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My Bigfoot muse and poet RiverMonk has been whispering in my ear. When he does I listen.
We the Sabe
bigfoot
Celebrate the Holidays with a Free Bigfoot Ebook!
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A BIG SHOUTOUT TO EVERYONE THAT HAS DOWNLOADED THEIR FREE COPY OF MY CONVERSATIONS WITH SASQUATCH BOOK “THE ENCOUNTER”. The # of downloads thus far are closing in on 500 copies as of this morning. To anyone with an interest, I am still giving away the Kindle version through Christmas Day as a thank you gift to Bigfoot fans for the Holidays. It is free on Amazon at this link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08N1M6RYB
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Free Kindle Copy of Conversations With Sasquatch, “The Encounter”
Merry Christmas to all my followers and readers. Today through December 25th, you can get my Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter eBook free from Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08N1M6RYB
This is book 1 in my Conversations With Sasquatch series. Please, I encourage you to take advantage of this Christmas special. Then upon reading my book, I also encourage you to leave a review. It will be very much appreciated. Being an Independent Author, this is the book avenue by which I survive. Thanks!
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Excerpt from book 1 of the Conversations With Sasquatch, series The Encounter.
5 Chapter 5
On my return to Big Creek, I am aware of some recent activity by other humans. It is not only the physical signs, like the matted down grass and discarded cigarette butts, but also the remnants of their auras. People leave in their wake good or bad vibrations that can hang around and be felt from here to eternity unless cleansed from the emotionally disturbed space. What I am feeling at the moment is not good, and it isn’t long before I find a half dozen empty beer cans and several Twinkie wrappers scattered about.
I have never known beer and Twinkies to mix well with the forest. I am hoping it is just a sign of some rebellious teenagers getting away from the claustrophobic demands of their parents, and what I am seeing is discarded pieces of their rebellion and carelessness that have been shed like the skin of a snake.
My hopes get permanently dashed when I find more cigarette butts and a game camera locked in place to a small sapling of birch. There is a generous pile of untouched corn a few yards away from the lens that snaps my picture. I stick out my tongue and give it the finger.
Tecumseh would throw a fit if he saw this disrespectful approach to the fine art of hunting. I can literally hear one of his angry rants echoing through the forest as I decide what to do.
“They leave their ugly scent behind like mangy dogs that seem to have a purpose to piss on everything,” Tecumseh rails. “They are thankless of all but their own gratification. I weep when I think about how the ancestors of such vile men invaded our tee-pees with their spirits of evil. I pray our eternal wills continue to be reborn without such an abominable weakness for whiskey.”
I look around and heft a broken hardwood bow about the size and shape of a baseball bat. I contemplate and weigh it for my purpose. Knowing I have been captured on the camera, I have decided prudence would be my best course of action.
I wind up and take a healthy cut and catch the camera square in the face. It explodes into different pieces and is not easy to gather back together, but I find the photo chip and slip it into my pocket. The rest of the camera pieces and every other sign of human presence, I put in my gathering bag. All that is left is the cable and lock still wrapped around the birch. I apologize in the name of Tecumseh and cut the cable free.
I then backtrack and gather the beer cans and Twinkie wrappers, finger-rake the grasses back to standing the best I can, and collect all the cigarette butts. I am happily gratified to feel the forest rejoice.
With the area cleansed of trash and bad vibrations, I am able to return to contemplating my original purpose. I had been looking forward to another philosophical melding with my Bigfoot friend, Loquius.
I have been pondering, that if the Sasquatch are immortal beings that have roamed this planet since the beginning of time, then they have survived the endless disasters of climate change, including ice ages, volcanos, earthquakes, drought, famine, asteroids, and even pandemics.
Man is relatively new to the game, and what is most important in this age of narcissism, are the symbiotic relationships that have and can be further developed between man and nature; each one can enhance the other when common sense and basic ethics are applied to such things as forestry, farming, housing, and industry. Even cities can be redesigned with regenerative energy and agriculture in mind. Man is basically good and will strive for the greatest good for all concerned when he realizes that one lifetime is but a growing and cleansing journey for his immortal soul. To survive, you have to learn that you do not shit in the bed to which you must return.
I hope to garner much more insight into what answers Sasquatch might have to help the human race as it seemingly hurtles unawares towards oblivion.
As I trek, I am elated to have removed the footprints of the litterbugs and their bad vibes. The forest has returned to its harmonious songs within itself. I hear the distant drumming of a partridge, the chatter of squirrels, and the peeping of some snipes at the edge of a meadow filled with dancing grasses. A porcupine scuttles over a log, parks it itself in a defensive posture and raises its quills as I pass nearby.
The walk to meet Sasquatch is over two miles of ever changing terrain. The forest is rife with organic smells and subtle changes of temperature. I have come to recognize many sun dappled openings verdant with ferns as well as groves of various trees. I am traversing the edge of the hardwoods that are easier to navigate than the thick cedars, tag alders and small pines that thrive next to the creek.
It is on the ridge where the hardwoods turn to cedars that Sasquatch appears. I am immediately struck by the aggressiveness portrayed in his muscular stance. There is nothing soft or serene in his posture towards me. My first instinct is to cut and run, but I will myself to keep my poise and hold my ground.
He vocalizes an unearthly bugle of screeching sounds that all but rattle my bones. Instantly, there is movement to his right and another Sasquatch appears at his side.
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Bigfoot Told Me
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Bigfoot told me we look comical with our noses glued to a phone, with our ears attached to CNN and NBC. They told me Hollywood actors have fangs and forked tongues, the Internet is an illusion on which fools will feed. They told me, so I am telling you, we look comical with our noses glued to a phone.
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Richard Rensberry, Author of Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter eBook for free on Amazon for 5 days beginning 12/20 and lasting through 12/25. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Friends
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Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter https://www.amazon.com/dp/1940736684
Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter
Book 1 In the Conversations With Sasquatch Book Series
Visit Rusted Roots Apothecary, Storybook Corner, or Au Sable River Outfitters in Mio for any and all my Conversations With Sasquatch books. Thanks for shopping locally and supporting local businesses and artisans.
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Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter
Excerpt 1
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I have had to readjust my beliefs and rethink many an opinion since I met a Sasquatch while out hunting for morel mushrooms in Lewiston, Michigan. I had no idea that these mushrooms were high on their list of dietary delicacies. They prize and love them.
I would have been afraid and crapped my pants if it hadn’t been for the long outstretched arm that offered me a half eaten morel. There was nothing aggressive or hostile in this gesture. He effused a welcoming aura of curious friendliness.
I took the half-eaten morel and popped it into my mouth. As I shook my head affirmatively, I offered him my paper sack that contained about twenty morels and two or three beefsteaks I had gathered along a cedar ridge beside Big Creek.
It was then that I noticed the pure silence that had fallen over the forest. The crows look-out caws had vanished, the squirrels had shushed their chatter and rattle in the trees. Not even a bluejay or a mosquito was daring a peep.
I struggled to swallow the copper taste that had encroached to dry my mouth.
Sasquatch smiled. He had jaws filled with yellow teeth and eyes that twinkled with delight.
“Thank you,” he said, and jiggled his lips like a horse as it eats a sugar cube off your hand.
“You’re welcome,” I replied with another swallow.
“There’s a storm in the air,” Sasquatch offered with a gesture towards the sky, “the ozone is lifting my hairs.” He proceeded to run his hand a few inches above his upper chest where I could see the hairs stand up as if a magnet were being run over a cache of metal shavings. He abruptly slapped his chest and laughed. It sounded eerily like the shriek of an eagle guarding its kill.
The sky was clear, but I thought I could hear a distant rumble of thunder to the west. I couldn’t remember any rain being in the forecast. I had come dressed only in jeans, a polo shirt and sneakers.
“You humans are such frail creatures,” he said. “I remember when you were more like us, hunters and gatherers of the health and fruits of The Creator.”
I really couldn’t tell if he was speaking to me verbally or telepathically. There was such a sense of otherworldliness. I had a hard time getting a grip on my racing thoughts and emotions. In the absence of abject fear, I felt a combination of elation and serenity. I guess it was what you’d call dumbstruck.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked and popped a fresh mushroom into his mouth.
“I have never met a Sasquatch before,” I managed.
“Not many a human has,” he whispered conspiratorially. “You are the first in many thousands of years I have spoken to. You are the chosen one.”
“I am honored,” I humbly croaked.
“I am not so sure you should be. You humans are blowing it. You are blind to the world of the Sasquatch. You have lost the memory and instinct of your body’s genes and the very essence of your immortal soul.”
A darkness crept stealthily over the ridge. Lightning flashed and a huge clap of thunder reverberated off and rattled my teeth. I began to shiver uncontrollably as Sasquatch melted into the rain with a welcoming gesture meant for me to follow him there to wherever there was going to be.
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The Encounter is Book 1 in the Conversations With Sasquatch Series of books is also available on Amazon if you are so inclined. https://www.amazon.com/dp/1940736684
The Bigfoot Knocks Band
Buy your copy of “MAGA Bigfoot” my near death experience here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1940736773
Excerpt from Conversations With Sasquatch, “Cross Over”
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“Welcome,” Loquius gestures with open arms.
“Once again, you have proven worthy of being the chosen one. There is great interest as well as skepticism behind your appearance here in Pariseema before the Council of Elders. These are trying times for this world and yours.”
As on another occasion, I am compelled to extend my index finger and the gesture is simultaneously reciprocated with a gentle and prolonged touch by the huge index finger of Loquius. I see nods and soft smiles from the elders directly in my view.
“I took heed in your advice,” I say. “I followed the Stone Without Time. I saw you there beckoning me, and here I am.”
Again, there are nods from the elders.
“I believe that in your world you have a noise box called a television, and another called a computer. We have seen these things by peeking through your windows. In those noise boxes are many voices and pictures quite different from those you see and hear in the Stone Without Time. In your world, those electronic voices and pictures look to be determined to overwhelm and entice a desired agreement and predetermined outcome from the listener. In the Stone Without Time, the voices and pictures you hear and see are thought created, they are reflections of your own mind and heart. You are here because of your own self-determined purposes that have found agreement within our Sasquatch universe.”
I smile. It is like a huge weight being lifted from my shoulders because I know what he has said is the truth. I weened myself away from TV years ago, and my use of the computer is limited to mostly those things that serve and enhance my abilities to be happily productive. My life has dramatically changed for the better since I am no longer bombarded with the voices and pictures of big money corporations and media puppeteers.
“I understand,” I acknowledge. “I pride myself in not hypnotized nor subliminally directed like many of my fellow humans. No one thinks for me, I think for myself. I have come to be here on my own volition.”
“Yes, your visions are your own. That is the only way the Stone Without Time can work. It has no value to those that aren’t pure of thought nor heart. That is why you were chosen.”
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Purchase paperback copy here https://www.amazon.com/dp/1940736706
Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter
Excerpt from book 1 of the Conversations With Sasquatch, series The Encounter.
5
On my return to Big Creek, I am aware of some recent activity by other humans. It is not only the physical signs, like the matted down grass and discarded cigarette butts, but also the remnants of their auras. People leave in their wake good or bad vibrations that can hang around and be felt from here to eternity unless cleansed from the emotionally disturbed space. What I am feeling at the moment is not good, and it isn’t long before I find a half dozen empty beer cans and several Twinkie wrappers scattered about.
I have never known beer and Twinkies to mix well with the forest. I am hoping it is just a sign of some rebellious teenagers getting away from the claustrophobic demands of their parents, and what I am seeing is discarded pieces of their rebellion and carelessness that have been shed like the skin of a snake.
My hopes get permanently dashed when I find more cigarette butts and a game camera locked in place to a small sapling of birch. There is a generous pile of untouched corn a few yards away from the lens that snaps my picture. I stick out my tongue and give it the finger.
Tecumseh would throw a fit if he saw this disrespectful approach to the fine art of hunting. I can literally hear one of his angry rants echoing through the forest as I decide what to do.
“They leave their ugly scent behind like mangy dogs that seem to have a purpose to piss on everything,” Tecumseh rails. “They are thankless of all but their own gratification. I weep when I think about how the ancestors of such vile men invaded our tee-pees with their spirits of evil. I pray our eternal wills continue to be reborn without such an abominable weakness for whiskey.”
I look around and heft a broken hardwood bow about the size and shape of a baseball bat. I contemplate and weigh it for my purpose. Knowing I have been captured on the camera, I have decided prudence would be my best course of action.
I wind up and take a healthy cut and catch the camera square in the face. It explodes into different pieces and is not easy to gather back together, but I find the photo chip and slip it into my pocket. The rest of the camera pieces and every other sign of human presence, I put in my gathering bag. All that is left is the cable and lock still wrapped around the birch. I apologize in the name of Tecumseh and cut the cable free.
I then backtrack and gather the beer cans and Twinkie wrappers, finger-rake the grasses back to standing the best I can, and collect all the cigarette butts. I am happily gratified to feel the forest rejoice.
With the area cleansed of trash and bad vibrations, I am able to return to contemplating my original purpose. I had been looking forward to another philosophical melding with my Bigfoot friend, Loquius.
I have been pondering, that if the Sasquatch are immortal beings that have roamed this planet since the beginning of time, then they have survived the endless disasters of climate change, including ice ages, volcanos, earthquakes, drought, famine, asteroids, and even pandemics.
Man is relatively new to the game, and what is most important in this age of narcissism, are the symbiotic relationships that have and can be further developed between man and nature; each one can enhance the other when common sense and basic ethics are applied to such things as forestry, farming, housing, and industry. Even cities can be redesigned with regenerative energy and agriculture in mind. Man is basically good and will strive for the greatest good for all concerned when he realizes that one lifetime is but a growing and cleansing journey for his immortal soul. To survive, you have to learn that you do not shit in the bed to which you must return.
I hope to garner much more insight into what answers Sasquatch might have to help the human race as it seemingly hurtles unawares towards oblivion.
As I trek, I am elated to have removed the footprints of the litterbugs and their bad vibes. The forest has returned to its harmonious songs within itself. I hear the distant drumming of a partridge, the chatter of squirrels, and the peeping of some snipes at the edge of a meadow filled with dancing grasses. A porcupine scuttles over a log, parks it itself in a defensive posture and raises its quills as I pass nearby.
The walk to meet Sasquatch is over two miles of ever changing terrain. The forest is rife with organic smells and subtle changes of temperature. I have come to recognize many sun dappled openings verdant with ferns as well as groves of various trees. I am traversing the edge of the hardwoods that are easier to navigate than the thick cedars, tag alders and small pines that thrive next to the creek.
It is on the ridge where the hardwoods turn to cedars that Sasquatch appears. I am immediately struck by the aggressiveness portrayed in his muscular stance. There is nothing soft or serene in his posture towards me. My first instinct is to cut and run, but I will myself to keep my poise and hold my ground.
He vocalizes an unearthly bugle of screeching sounds that all but rattle my bones. Instantly, there is movement to his right and another Sasquatch appears at his side.
Available on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/1940736684
Conversations With Sasquatch, The Rising
CONVERSATIONS WITH SASQUATCH, THE RISING
Episode 2 by Richard Rensberry
2.
“What are your thoughts, My Friend,” I ask Tecumseh after we have been deposited into a cozy but roomy dome structure to refresh ourselves. We are bathed in diffused sunlight reminiscent of being inside a green house.
“Intrigued,” Tecumseh answers, looking about and absorbing the situation.
Each of us has been given dry clothes that are soft and light. My guess is that they are woven from the plant kenaf that is so prized and prevalent in Cross Over. On the table before us sit plates of vegetables and spices similar to my first meal eaten in the land of Sasquatch when I had been the guest of elder Loquius and his family. To satisfy our thirst there is also an ewer of steaming tea that smells of ginger and raspberry.
“I wasn’t sure my body was going to survive its journey here into your land of the forest people,” Tecumseh says. “But, here it is, in one piece, and I admit that now that I am here, I have grown hungry.” He rubs his belly, eying the vegetables and aromatic spices.
I take hold of the ewer of tea in both hands and pour ourselves a steaming mug of pink liquid. Like all the Sasquatch teas I have tried, this one is also zippy and zingy.
“I am a bit perplexed,” I tell him. “I wasn’t expecting Dr. Walker or any other humans to be present here. It contradicts the information I received from the Council of Elders. As for the coveted spirits of your ancestors, they may or may not be here in Cross Over, but I can assure you that the place is very real and you will find the food much to your liking.”
“This Dr. Walker,” Tecumseh questions, “Are you sure he is not a ghost or a spirit?”
“I am sure he is as solid and human as we are,” I tell him. “How he got here and what he is up to besides farming, I can’t say, but I believe we are about to find out in our meeting with Demarcus.”
“Ah yes, Chia Tanka not so friendly in the flesh,” Tecumseh says and sketches the Bigfoot’s shape with his hands. After a moment, he nods and the lines on his forehead soften. He closes his eyes and takes my hand, then invokes a sing song blessing of thanks to the powers and wonders of that which has brought him here and put fresh food and tea on our table.
“Dig in,” I say when he opens his piercing eyes and looks at me.
“For some reason, I feel we are going to need it,” he adds.
Available on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/1940736765