Earth & Sky: A Journey from Orbs to Old Farmhouses

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—in the best way. Jeff and I set out on two back-to-back trips that pulled us in completely different directions, both physically and energetically. 

 

One took us into the heart of the unknown. The other brought us back home.

 

We began with a 5-day dive into the mysteries of the cosmos at Contact in the Desert, the UFO conference held in a desert area of California. I’ve been to CITD before, but this year felt different—more special. It was the first time I got to meet several new but dear friends from an online UFO Discord community in person. Deeply thoughtful, creative, intelligent, and kind, this group of people is the epitome of just how expansive and connective this phenomenon really is.

The week was surreal in the best way: sharing a poolside cabana with James Fox and Dean Alioto, cackling obnoxiously with the Last Podcast on the Left crew, and having brunch with Kelly Chase, Jay Christopher King, and Whitley Strieber.

 

And yes—yes—I even, inexplicably saw orbs in the night sky with Chris Bledsoe. That moment still lingers.

 

From there, we flew clear across the country to Maine—a completely different kind of magic. I hadn’t seen my mom in four years, and this visit brought the kind of peace that only the slow rhythms of family and forest can offer. Our days were a mix of scenic drives past green fields—never-ending and immeasurable green—old farmhouses, and timeworn, haunting homes that whispered stories from generations past.

Each morning I’d sit on my mom’s back deck with a mug of coffee, soaking in the calm. Songbirds darted between feeders, a proud groundhog mama (affectionately named Woodrowina by my uncle) waddled through the yard with her little ones, and one quick little chipmunk made his rounds with such purpose and joy.

 

It was a simple ritual, but one that grounded me deeply—reminding me that some of the most powerful magic is found in stillness.

 

These two trips, so different in nature—one filled with mystery and skyward questions, the other rooted in ancestral memory and moss—reminded me why I do what I do. My work is about connecting worlds. The cosmic and the earthly. The unknown and the deeply known. 

From The Infinite Jewelry, after all, is a bridge—a tangible thread between who we are and what we believe is possible.

Thanks for being on this journey with me.

With wonder always,
Casey