Blog Entry 22 * 5-24-22
I stopped in Rachel, Nevada again to hang out with the really nice folks at the Little A’Le’Inn. There’s something about this place that always pulls me back—the endless desert sky, the quirky UFO memorabilia, and the warm, down-to-earth people who run the place. It’s a tiny dot on the map but feels like a world unto itself, suspended between myth and reality.
This time, while I was in the restaurant, something extraordinary happened. There was a sudden sonic boom. At first, it was just a faint vibration, like the room taking a slow breath. Then I could actually see and feel the sound ripple running down the walls inside the building, a kind of invisible wave distorting the stillness. When it reached the far side of the dining hall, there was a massive, echoing BOOM, and the front door exploded open as if on cue. My heart jumped. It was absolutely amazing—otherworldly, even.
I had never experienced anything like that before. Apparently, it’s not uncommon here. When jets take off from the nearby Air Force base and climb straight up right above the restaurant, the resulting pressure and speed can create these sonic waves. It’s one thing to hear about it; it’s another to actually sit there with a cup of coffee and watch the desert air itself seem to move.
Afterward, the staff and a couple of locals just smiled knowingly, like it was part of the show. They started telling me stories about the times the windows rattled or how the sky sometimes glows in strange colors at night. Sitting there, listening to their tales with the smell of burgers and coffee drifting through the air, I felt like I was at a crossroads of the seen and unseen—a place where the desert’s silence meets the high-speed rush of human technology.
Through it all, I kept close to my meditation on Rādhā and Krishna. In a land so full of mystery and strangeness, Their presence felt like a steady, protective current—an invisible shelter that kept me safe while exploring such a unique and powerful area. Even amidst the rumble of jets and the whispers of the desert wind, the sweetness of divine remembrance anchored me in peace.
Rachel is like that: a collision of mystery and reality, UFO lore and military precision, cosmic quiet and thunderous sound. Every time I come here, it leaves me feeling both grounded and a little bit electric, as if the desert itself has whispered some secret into my bones.