"Do you hear that?" I whispered to my friend Tobias.

"No, what?" he answered under his breath.

"Drumming. The sound of soft, distant drumming."

"No, but I see a faint glow over there by cliff. Like a small fire. A vague, flickering light cast against rock face."

My friend Tobias and I love to explore old Indian ruins in Arizona's desert canyons and mesas. Our favorite ones are secluded, out-of-the-way remains not normally visited by other people. These remnants of a bygone civilization are quiet, dreamy and somewhat desolate. Many of aged, abandoned fortresses and homes are over a thousand years old. These timeworn vestiges of ancestral life are extremely serene-and mystical. When Tobias and I sit and meditate within their eroded walls, we often see a dim, blurry campfire, or hear subtle, muffled, elusive drumming, chanting or sound of children playing. Experiencing visual and auditory glimpses of distant past is enthralling to us and serves to heighten our interest in learning more about ancient ones who lived in American Southwest so long ago.

One day, while exploring a windy, arid, remote mesa in high northern desert of Arizona, Tobias and I happened upon an Anazazi Indian ruin with several partial dwellings still standing. The crumbling abodes were awash in relics of antiquity. Delighted to find a site that obviously hadn't received many visitors over years, we dropped to our hands and knees, and sifted through dirt for artifacts to help us understand long-departed residents. Our efforts were rewarded with arrowheads, pottery shards and corncobs preserved by extreme dryness. In center of this native village is a large oval pit about sixty feet wide. Surrounded by a wall of very carefully fitted slate stones, pit sinks approximately five feet into ground. This submerged ring of stones is called a kiva by Native Americans.

The structure served as a ceremonial circle for Indian rituals. Spellbound by aura and electricity we sensed within ceremonial pit, Tobias and I speculated about its history. As we sat on sun-warmed stones in kiva, we longed to know specific nature and focus of ancient rituals conducted by Anazazi Indians so long ago.

The absolute quiet and serenity of kiva reminded me of a psychology experiment I read about in college. The research project revealed a fascinating quality inherent in a vacuum. Relaxing in ominous silence of kiva, I related experiment to my fellow explorer.

Scientists set up a near vacuum in a completely empty room. Installed in this vacuum-sealed room were a speaker and a listening device. From outside room, one of researchers spoke distinctly one secret word, known only to him, through speaker into room. The chamber was then locked and sealed for five years. At end of five years, scientists returned. From outside room, they turned on highly sophisticated sound sensing equipment to listen to whatever they could hear from inside room. The device picked up secret word spoken into vacuum five years earlier! The sound vibration of word was still alive and detectable within that environment after five years.

The kiva was almost as still and empty as I imagined a vacuum to be. It was kind of quiet that absorbs every sound. Even intermittent whistling of wind was consumed by all- prevailing silence.

Sitting in this timeless place, we allowed tranquility to envelop us. I sensed space around us had been this serene for last thousand years. That's when notion came to me. Was it possible that whatever happened in kiva a millennium ago still exists on some subtle, vibrational level, just like sound of spoken word in scientists' vacuum? And, like word, is that vibration accessible and perceivable now?

What an exciting concept! I turned to Tobias to share my proposal, "Maybe we could contact whatever occurred in this kiva long ago. Perhaps even hear part of a ceremony."

Tobias caught my enthusiasm. Blond, blue-eyed and innocent, Tobias had adventurous curiosity of his Norse forebears. He was as anxious as I to see if such a feat was possible. We were flush with excitement. We were on a mission to connect with kindred souls who had preceded us on planet!

We decided to sit quietly inside circle and open ourselves to sensing any vibrations remaining from previous activities in kiva. The most we expected was something along lines of what we'd experienced before-a faint vision, a vague mumbling, or, if extremely fortunate, a hazy, dreamlike apparition.

After about half an hour, neither of us had picked up any sound or sighting. Then suddenly, to our right sat a Native American Indian-in flesh! I tentatively reached over lightly touching him to make sure he was real. I was taken aback by my discovery. "Yes," I nodded to Tobias, "the man is a solid, physical human being. He's not a phantom!"

The stoic Indian sat cross-legged on bare ground. A hundred canyon-like lines etched his noble, bronze face. He looked ancient, and very sweet and gentle. His soft eyes, quietly smiling, were so penetrating I kept losing myself in his calm, accepting gaze.