Tuesday, December 7, 2010
In meditation--seduction, transcendence, tripping or just hanging loose--set and setting are everything, and that includes what's going on between your ears, as my old AA sponsor used to say. So benefit from my experience: let the cosmic sea of self propel you forward past the moldy fabric of reality's curtain and into the space spore-infused mystic, past time, past space, past/present. These ten additions to any armchair adventurer's arsenal may save your sanity one day, or help you lose it forever, and about goddamn time! Psychonauts, prepare to shucker loose!
I should also mention the 'set' part of set and setting - the right friends. Avoid dumbfuck townies like the plague - they love to hang out with finely-tuned artists like you and me and do dumb shit like "whooo whooo woooo! what do you see, Erich?" Fuck them. Pick a small group with the care of a dog groomer.
1. "The Drone Zone" on Soma FM -- Ambient drones and ethereal calm, nonstop on web radio.
So many web radio stations make you listen to endless pledge breaks and dorky voiced station announcements. There's still some of that on Soma, but not a lot... not enough to break the spell. In the enlightened, or oceanic state, you must surrender the channel changer, Once you've been elevated, karmic law dictates you should float them a donation and get a Soma FM T-shirt, like I did. My picture's on their web site, exhaling!
2. Light-Sound Mind Machines - Sure you can go deep via years of disciplined meditation, but if you don't have the time to tune in, quit work and join an ashram, try getting one of these groovy machines. Using synchronized light and sound they're basically auto-hypnosis tools, and man oh man. Many of them can be synced up with music to enhance the experience. I've broken through on several occasions via light sound machine connect to Charles Mingus' "Black Saint and the Sinner Lady" and Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." With the help of the light pulses, I felt my inner voice 'become' Coltrane's sax or the muted trumpet in Mingus' album. One of the things it told me in it's 'waa-waa' voice was "Erich, you're truly insane now, if you hear my voice, you're totally crazy" and all the other instruments seemed to be laughing at me! I wasn't fazed though... if you believe the hype I'm already legally insane around 10 time over.
3. Mermaid Magick Incense. Sage in the form of smudge sticks can be found at an herb store, Indian specialty shop, or new age bookshop near you... but for the deep weird mixed smells, it's worth seeking out some handmade stuff and I know no better source than the amazing and reasonably priced Mermaid Magik Incense shop. I dig the Earth Church and Dream Snake sticks and can personally vouch for the effectiveness.
My idea is, when starting out, choose one type of scent and only use it during your practices, your deep mystic journeys. That way, after a few experiences you'll associate the smell with the other world and it will be easier and easier to make the 'jump.' Since its handmade and unique to the Mermaid site you wont need to worry you'll smell it on the street or in yoga class and go insane on the spot.
4. Decor/Lighting - Don't leave newspapers, magazines, or anything too mainstream, anything with contemporary associations, lying around. If you have books around, make sure they're aesthetically unique, i.e. ancient looking tomes with exotic gilded edges. Keep most non-aesthetic food out of sight, especially meats and eggs, chip bags, etc. However, fruit looks very good in an altered state, so a bowl of ripe fruit is not only okay, it's recommended, as are plants, flowers (as long as they're not dying), etc.
The idea in this case is not to escape reality so much as remove 'triggers' for pre-set emotions and feelings. Use candles for light, no neon! Colored low wattage bulbs are okay, but the more shadows the better. Cover white walls with exotic tapestries. Keep weird art books handy on the coffee table.
5. Time - Hide the clocks! The idea is to create a sense of timeless space, and spaceless time, and any signifier of how you live the bulk of your life harnessed to the revolving orb isn't helpful. Even if you just put a tapestry or colorful bandana over the digital face of your clock radio you're on the right track. Keep time via the breath... meditate with the breath... your breathing is all you need. It's like a life vest that inhales and exhales and is always afloat, tick tock, whoosh!
6. Visual Media - Movies are a good way to wind down from a mystical experience, but not really that "positive" beforehand. Keep the TV off, way off.
But if you're having trouble coming down, may I recommend some Betty Boop cartoons? Disney's too creepy, WB to spastic and violent, but Betty is just right.
7. Cell phones off! - Don't kid yourself, they 'know' when you're being bad or good, as the aliens use cell phones to keep an eye on you. Imagine a giant grid of small pulsing lights at alien central: a sudden flash of 4th dimensional wall-breaching in a lotus-positioned voyager will light up like their switch boards like an Xmas tree. As they move in around you, the sounds of the house settling start to shift violently and weird noises outside--sirens, dogs, wind-- will speak to you, the way alien voices can interject themselves in everything from the falling of water to the stepping of jackboots.
8. Tobacco - Don't be a wuss! Tobacco is powerful medicine, and keeps any Native American spirits who may be present at a respectful distance. Know this: all plant spirits live even in the dead matter of their substance - their DNA writhes through you - every inhale of a plant's dried essence is a marriage. Let your mind be a garden, full of divine sage, mighty morphin' power tobacco, and crazy jester tetra-hydra cannibinol. Side effects may include: hastened death, prolonged respiratory illness, and yellowed teeth, but do you really want to live forever and hold America back with your knee-jerk atomic age fears, the way the elderly voting bloc are holding us back today?
9. Krishna Das - If things get too weird, turn to the music of Krishna Dass, who's moody mellow baritone voice will rock you back into harmony. (I especially love his "Mountain Chalisa" off
Flow of Grace) Part of accessing the inner daemonic realms involves getting through the daemonic TSA checkpoint... these demonic security guards don't just make you take off your coat and shoes... your memories, beliefs, and body have to be ripped away and shredded before your very eyes while you struggle to act cool. If you so much as sniffle in protest or fear they'll rip you up and kick you back down to the 3-D plane... so... love the demons who rip you to shreds.
Accept your own mortality and the transience of all things. Do this and you'll be floating through the metal detector and onto paradise before you know it. The voice of Krishna Das is the closest thing yet to a life vest in this instance, floating you beyond their thorny reach. One listen to that baritone mix of manly sorrow and unearthly joy and you feel safe, loved, and safely entrained to the immortal AUM.
10. Water - Drink a lot of it, and tea! I'm shooting off this figure off the top of my head (or other), but I'd bet a good 70% of mind-expansion-related mishaps (i.e. the kids who wind up shivering in the corner or taken to the chill-out tent) occur because of dehydration.
So... this post isn't meant to condone any form of substance ingestion, nor is it one of those dopey tirades against it. Don't trust the pundits on either side of the issue. No one path fits all. Research and make your own informed opinions. If it calls to you, go for it...if it doesn't, don't, and in either case, don't let peer pressure influence you against your better judgment. This shit's not for everyone. If you don't feel 'the call' don't answer the phone.
Most importantly, don't let some gooey mediator creep between you and the direct and personal realization of transcendental spiritual experience! Many will try if you let them - search for a guru and one appears - takes your worldly goods and disappears. Follow the inner voice that leads you to the light, and be careful it's not a trickster in disguise.
Using all the above steps, and after enough meditation on the AUM - you just might feel the electric hand of God on your shoulder. Isn't that better than some smelly bible at a smelly old church, with a smelly old priest droning on andzzzzz?
Remember, just be yourself, your real self --not the self the dorks who tell you to be yourself think your self is. You were only ever water and air - a cloud that thought it was separate from the sky. In the end, you will rain or evaporate - but you do not die when disappeared. Where do you go? Exactly - you ARE the sky and the sea, like me. When you remember that fully, the sun blazes through your dark purple center and evaporates your ego until all that's left is a recording of "Masie" and, behind that, a cosmic message you long forgot (that's a 2001 reference).
But though you may court insanity, try to be physically safe! Only venture outside when you're already in the 'zone' so you know you can handle crossing the street and make sure you're with other people who can watch out for you- you'll be as liable to wander into traffic as a six month-old puppy.
And believe me when I say this: you cannot fly. xoxoxo
---- guest writer Dr. Morphius "Twillie" Twilite, the X / 2009
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Take the Cheshire Cat for example which exists with 'just a smile' now there are many ways to interpet this, some very literally, like the EXORCIST: THE VERSION YOU'VE NEVER SEEN, some less so.
What about the audio?
I've had episodes where my own thoughts were spoken to me by the crazed horns in Mingus’ Saint and the Sinner Lady album. The repeating squawks now becoming a human voice, my voice, our voice, The Voice, for it has always only been one voice. Mingus will drive you mad as the tension builds the drama increases up and up and up until you have to tear the headphones from your ears but you suddenly have no hands to do that with, you are erasing yourself with each passing bar because your attention is not focused on the matrix, on the reality of the day, you are having your freak out where you look at your arm and all you see is electromagnetic radiation coalescing into what you knew was an arm.…. in advance.
This is the gravy moment, the near death coasting where all us trippy artists got to go visit at least once in awhile. Where thought and expression become one thing, to say is to create, to hear your own voice emerges in the sound of the tree falling the the woods. You think in rain, and breathe in wind. The fear God is to be killed by God to love god is to be god, to hide is to disappear to die is to be reborn to panic is to drown to love is to be absolved and to chant and pray is to help the wheel itself keep spinning. And then there is a sudden break and just the bass and piano are left and the song ends and you realize only three minutes have gone by.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I dreamed I was given a hundred year long song on an mp3. It felt liberating. I would not have to make any future jukebox selections in this lifetime, it was going to outlast me, it proved there had to be time for not only it to play out but to have been made. My ego couldn't fail to admit it - the world didn't begin and end with me, if lucky and depending on when I received the mp3, I could maybe hear 3/4 of it. And then of course, somewhere I knew someone was listening, to not only this 100 year-old mp3 but others. The truth about the universe seeped past my defenses in that moment, and the little tornado that thought itself alone was unwrapped back into the sky.
Each drug leaves its card, and steals something on its way out. They give their estimates, they do their magic tricks. After years they begin to repeat themselves. Some are like dogs all crazy that you hang onto their leash as they tear out the door and you just hope you're wearing water skis. Others are sullen and mopey and good for little except whatever it takes for you to not kick them out. If you cut them from your regimen, they mark up the floors with their switchblades so at least you know they were there. And others still are wise and enigmatic and if you didn't learn the last lesson before coming back, they scare you to death with threats and clockwork stabbing motions. All eventually wear out their welcome, for our ego is a restless and impatient host, forever singling out one or another of the guests as the sole reason the party's not going great.
Most people have no idea what's truly involved. Most people can't imagine sacrifices beyond relatives and possessions, and pets sacrificed on altars. It's the who who is sacrificed for involvement in enlightenment to be complete. You alone will be left to pat the final piece of earth around your grave. If you can imagine patting down your own grave, and imagine being the other mourner who finally walks away, then you are halfway to being on your way back home from death, but first, there is the blackness and no amount of running will speed the slow revolution of the black marble.
The process of moving, that is changing your address and packing up your shit and letting the post office know, is as close as many of us come to that level of total involvement. Not even our own death or a loved one's can be as drastic a step. But the more resistance and panic you have towards moving, the more sloth-like and attached you have become, obviously! You've grown into the wood and the walls and ages from now they'll bring in special spectrometers to look for your ghost. Show us a sign! Or begone.
The enlightened one leaves no ghost, no shadow, no footprints, no feet. His skeleton hangs in every science class, his skull is used for ancient ceremonies, his eyes are suns in distant lands. "His" eyes. That's not even right, for the possessive can no longer apply. His eyes are ours and, when we give ours up to the worms and the smoky sky, his are what we shall see through. But who can give up his own eyes? Imagine yourself wrapping up all your possessions for the movers. The movers come and take all your stuff and leave you with nothing, not even money, they take your shoes and throw you into a street that is empty. And if you can then whistle a tune as you walk away, thou art saved. Or homeless. There is no difference.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Is it a coincidence that the mysterious 'portal' of "Desteni" looks so much like a Bergman character herself? She's got thousands of videos up on youtube. Her hair cut is about the only discernible evidence she ages. She's a little pixie combination of the young boy in PERSONA and Bibi Andersson. On the one hand I'm vaguely enthralled. On the other, vaguely ennervated. Watch too many of her weird 'interviews' and you get the feeling you've simultaneously learned the secret of life and been subjected to a 20 hour performance art piece by your precocious niece who may or may not be trying to get you to join some Scientology-ish UFO cult.
(NOTE the videos posted here originally were deleted, and now exist only in Spanish with subtitles. Not sure what that means as far as Destini being too phony for Nortamericanos or not. But I found some, so here be what I can find).
And Bergman comes back through her to say howdy!! "I'm in HEAVEN! I'm alive but... in a different way." Needless to say, if you are positive it's NOT Bergman's spirit talking through her then are you really less dogmatic than someone who is positive it is? Don't dwell in absolutes, my friends! There are none. Be like Charles Fort! Be like Sherlock Holmes! Be like Carl Jung. In this case I'd advise being very Jung, for regardless of your vote, the whole Bergman Nordic blonde waif death connection is fascinating in and of itself, an example of the gray area where art, death, blondes, and the Unknown all meet.
But I'm impressed by the sheer volume of information coming out of this Nordic alien-looking portal chick, and the way you think well, if anyone would come back from the grave to say "Hi! I'm not sad anymore!" It would be the man who gave us CRIES AND WHISPERS, PERSONA, THE SILENCE, and PASSION OF ANNA. Oh and so many more!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The message: you don't even need a place to "live" if you have a PC. What is contentment after all but endless streams of free movies that you can play as loud as you want, all by yourself regardless of the size of the crowd around you? I'm not judging. Just seeing the writing on the wall, admitting my part - for no one loves avoiding people in favor of the internet as much as me, well, that's probably not true, not anymore.
I want to connect this commercial in your mind with a novel by William Gibson, All Tomorrow's Parties, in which a character lives in a box, inside a box owned by a weird figurine maker inside a subway. The guy lives on cough syrup and shivers in his cold sleeping bag, but he's plugged into the web, so he's barely in his body at all. He's sneaking into secret areas trying to rendezvous with the first totally cyber superstar, or something like that. I never finished the book, but well I remember that character. Other notables in the future of Gibson herein include lightweight electric cars, and rampant shanty town living. Even the Golden Gate Bridge is a long row of makeshift housing with no electricity. (The guy in the box is in Tokyo, not that it matters where you are, by then).
I've long imagined a future which is already here, wherein a stranger coming out of, say, a Russian gulag, finds the whole world seemingly asleep, sprawled on streets, sleeping on one another in train stations, barely moving, just hooked up to their laptops, directly, for screens and speakers will soon seem stupid, why have anything interfering when you can just tune directly in?
If then, everything is a fractal of everything else, as I believe it is, then this has already happened, and space time itself is a virtual illusion. I believe this to be true. The proof snakes before us in an endless Moebius Strip. Therefore, the grays are us in the future, and the future is us in the grays. Beware the fictions you create, for they are more true than you will ever be able to fully know. But you know just the same.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
It's charming to see scientists on 'legit' space documentaries like Morgan Freeman's Through the Wormhole on the Science Channel explain how unlikely it is that UFOs could travel from other galaxies, since they're millions of light years apart - and yet these same scientists posit the existence of worm holes and parallel universes, and superior technology, but then if anyone puts two and two together they get scoffed upon.
If you'd have posited that in the future everyone in the world would be walking around with tiny phones that can reach anyone in the world anywhere at any time, they'd have told you flat out such things were impossible. Wireless radios, maybe... but satellite telephone service affordable to even the local ghetto youth? Pshaw! The only one, way back in the 1980s, who saw and wrote about a future where our external world is all poverty stricken but everyone's a king in a digital realm? William Gibson.
I'm not even sure I 100% believe in it even now, and I have a cell phone like everyone else. But unlike most people, I'm skeeved out by the thought of what sort of inter-dimensional space dust might be on those bouncy signals I'm sticking in my ear. Frankly, I don't believe it works. I think it's just a hypnosis machine that convinces people they've called each other in the past. The voices are echoes, of the windmills of your mind.
|A materialist, but with an eye for the beyond|
It's hard to imagine these kind of vast spaces between solar systems being traveled, even at light speed, but try to think of it in fractal terms - the distance between our galaxy and the next may correlate to the distance between one atom and the next in a single molecule of our fingernail. Would scientists really be so blind as to theorize that humans could never get from point A to B on a fingernail just because of all that space between atoms?
It's really a matter of point of view, which makes everything relative, including science. In this case the relativity is the size of the being wanting to do the travel, the notion of time as well. Imagine for example a planet that spins faster than ours, with days and nights scrolling by. They come visit us and move so fast we can't even see them, like the Flash. We say they are poltergeists, we say they are angels, blurs in the sky. They see us as this slow creatures stuck in a kind of melted time freeze frame life, just begging to have our pockets picked.
Another aspect to consider is anti-gravity, as explained by Bob Lazar who allegedly reverse-engineered UFOs for the government. Basically the way it works is by projecting a gravitational field that basically sucks the ship forward, so inside the ship it doesn't actually feel like you're moving at all, because your field of gravity is artificially maintained; essentially your falling towards your destination, no matter which direction it may be, but since the gravity is constant on board, you don't even notice. Questions to ask abductees who've been aboard spacecraft seldom asked: what is the gravity like? Do you see the aliens with your eyes closed, open, or both? Do they seem 100% real in 3-D, or are they kind of blurred and shape shifting, like hallucinations?
If we're foolish enough to think we begin and end in physical bodies trapped in time space on this spinning rock, then yes of course, we'll never get to drive to the far side of the universe. If we realize that the entire contents of the universe, from the big bang to now, exists in every facet of our entire being, then reaching Orion's belt is as easy as buckling up before driving to the store. But first we have to think bigger. Materialists believe in cell phone technology because it works. They hear the evidence. But what if, just as our cell phone signals are beamed back and forth through space so we can hear each others' voices, far away planets are beaming themselves, or their own cosmic messages, to our brains? Bypassing clumsy technology and going right for glands and organs they themselves planted inside us via manipulated DNA, they've been communicating with us for centuries! Do we just scoff at that? We don't know what the evidence would be since we can't tell, and don't try, to discern where our own thoughts end and transmitted thoughts begin, but if we meditate deeply it becomes more and more obvious.
|Smoke 'em if you got 'em|
Imagine a hermit crab trying to cross the ocean floor in a huge conch shell... it takes forever, but if the crab lets go and just floats in the current it's across in no time. First though it has to let go of the fear it will be eaten as it will have no protective shelter. That's faith, though.You need faith to let go of yourself and slip between the cracks of reality, without the comfort of a physical body. But once you do, then you're really going places.
If you want to really 'see' beyond our three dimensions, you only need to meditate, or sleep, or go on a hunger strike, become a vegan, ingest psychoactive molecules, or just become schizophrenic; you'll see and understand it all... and then you will read of these haughty scientists speaking of space light year distances making interstellar space impossible and laugh like a giant who knows he has the whole Milky Way galaxy captured like a dot on the center of his tongue, which is to say, you will laugh like an infinitely small atom along a vast DNA chain who knows he dwells safely in the center of a giant's mouth. What enduring harm is possible to that hermit crab if he accepts the entire ocean as his shell? Even the devouring squid is just himself, drawing him into a faster, larger network.
"Wormhole" has two meanings: we go into one and out of the other (the worm's anus) goeth our body back to soil. As Hamlet said, "a man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a King, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm, and so may a King may go a progress through the guts of a beggar."
See you soon, King!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
In the decades I've been casually following the incredible body of alien theory (starting back when it seemed the only books on the subject were Communion by Whitley Streiber and Chariots of the Gods), and shuffling it in with my own shamanic experience and that of writers like Graham Hancock, Patrick Harpur, Carlos Castaneda and Terence McKenna, I've gradually come to accept the probability that at least some of this stuff is true, and if even .01% is true then our current scientific paradigm is bunk, end of story. Aliens can't just 'half' visit Earth (well actually they can but that's a post for another day!) Once this truth is accepted, all the hokey scientific speculation and "are we alone?" pontificating seems only a more educated version of Middle Age religious hysteria. Any scientist not terrified of being tried for heresy would probably agree with Ufologists were they presented with the mountains of data and evidence that all fits together much better than the angry dismissals, belittlings, denials and cover-ups of the scientific and military community; if you approach it with a clear objective mind, the truth is right there.
And why not? It's basic psychology that once you give people a straight answer, they just ask ten more questions... until all mystery and excitement is drained from their lives. You do them a favor when you hide stuff, like hiding the polar bear's meat in hard to find places at the zoo, to give him something to do. Isn't the root of our love of mysteries seated in our curiosity about our own origins, why as little children we always wonder why we have our father's eyes, for example if we came 'from' our mother. Moms and dads evade, but the clues are there; the game is afoot!
If you want proof the people would panic at full disclosure, consider the reaction to Orson Welles' War of the Worlds broadcast in 1938. You can also see how the public aren't ready for disclosure by the way they expect the government and the law to supply 'answers' and 'solutions' to alien visitations. If you expect the government to prevent hurricanes, for example, the only thing they can do is order you to evacuate and/or board up your windows. If you demand they do something about the UFO probe hovering over your town, the best they can do is tell you it's a mirage, or a weather balloon, and to return to your homes. If you are smart enough to know it's no weather balloon, you are smart enough to know the cops can't do much about it, so why call them?
Instead you might examine the way you lean on 'the big Other' of government to protect you, the way a child would its parent at a scary carnival. Naturally the parent's job--if you're too scared to enjoy yourself--is to tell you the monsters in the spookhouse aren't real. But if you're not too scared (and they're good parents who want you to have a good time) they're not going to spoil the mood by pointing out the monsters are just masks and puppets. Better you don't bring your parents along at all and pretend (i.e. know) to be scared for your little brother, and have a great spine-tingling freak out together. Why the need to announce to everyone at the carnival that the spookshow isn't real? Why not be the only one on your block who knows the true score, and just keeps it to yourself? Don't run around like Chicken Little, just meditate, and keep reading all the great books on the subject. The truth is never farther than your own brain.
Disinformation runs rampant, but I think the people who are controlling all this information are doing a bang-up job at leaking it all out slowly enough alongside the false stuff that by the time 'the tipping point' comes we wont need to panic, and suddenly instead of UFO nuts being picked on, those who don't believe will be made out to seem like repressed weirdos of the "world is flat" variety.
By case in point, there's a documentary right on Netflix streaming, amateurishly done almost by intention, that collects 'the best evidence' of all the UFO material, including Bob Lazar's famous interviews, analysis and presentation of alleged Roswell crash material and something I didn't know of at all before, the work of surgeon Roger Leir, a doctor who has removed 11 implants from abductees and has had enough analysis done on them to know the material they're made of is distinctly extraterrestrial, and what's more, in the areas of the body where they've been found there is no evidence of any kind of infection, antibody resistance, scarring, or anything to indicate a human stuck those things in there (such as inside the jaw near the bone, etc.)
If you don' have Netflix streaming (the documentary is called CLOSE ENCOUNTERS: PROOF OF ALIEN CONTACT) you can read all about Leir's findings and qualifications on the web, including UFO Digest:
Normally there is an inflammation response to any foreign object in the body. This results from white blood cell activity in the area, attempting to rid the body of what it considers garbage that doesn't belong there. If the object is something soft, like a sliver, the body is able to disintegrate it and take it away one piece at a time. If the body can't remove the foreign object, it does the next best thing. Thousands of cells join together in a process called differentiation, changing form and surrounding the object to wall it off and separate it from the rest of the body. Any type of foreign object placed in the body -- whether by accident, such as a splinter, or something surgically inserted by a doctor -- will show this type of inflammation. So it was extremely strange that the pathology reports on these objects showed no inflammatory cells at all.
Another strange thing was also discovered. In the tissue around each implant, there were numerous nerve endings that didn't belong there. None of the investigators could say why these nerve endings were there, but it suggests the possibility that the implants act as some kind of monitoring device through attachment to the nervous system. (...)
When Dr. Leir received the three different scrapings of the membrane coatings from Derrel Sims, he sent them out to three separate pathologists. When the reports came back, it turned out that the main ingredient in this very tough membrane was something simply made from blood. In this bloody mass were some brown granules. The pathologists did an iron stain test and found that these brown granules were made of oxygen-carrying pigment from human red blood cells. Besides this, they also found a material called keratin, which comprises the outer layers of human skin, hair and fingernails.
Dr. Leir pointed out that if medical science could figure out how to duplicate this membrane, we would solve one of the biggest problems in medicine, that of transplant rejection. The membrane around the objects was apparently composed of material from the patients' own bodies BEFORE the objects were inserted. If we knew how to do this, we could put almost anything into the human body and have absolutely no rejection.
Leir and Sims illustrated the structure of one of the implants taken from the woman's toe. When first removed, it was flat and triangular. When the outer membrane was removed, inside were two separate pieces of shiny black metal, tightly joined together in the shape of a "T". Apparently only the membrane itself held these two metal pieces in alignment.
On February 22, 1996, the first preliminary lab reports came back on the metal itself. Leir and Sims both said they would await the final reports before announcing any details. They stressed that they had sent the samples for testing to highly specialized labs and had not indicated anything about where the samples came from. Dr. Leir told the Thousand Oaks audience that the preliminary findings are "mind-boggling," and that the first metallurgist simply said: "Wow, you guys really found something here." Dr. Leir stated that as soon as they get final reports from all three labs, they will make their findings public. "I think you're watching history," he said in conclusion.
Say what you will about that documentary, I found it very refreshing in its lack of skepticism. If you read the above and find yourself getting angry at how we're all getting taken for a ride by a quack doctor and his attention-seeking gambits, then maybe you're just not ready to 'let this in.' That's fine. That's why I like that I had to 'look' for this evidence in a badly reviewed, left-of-the-dial documentary (two stars based on Netflix viewer ratings!) rather than seeing it plastered on the front page of the Times where it would stir only a national panic that could only be quelled by the FBI pressuring Leir to declare it was a fake, even though the hep cats would know it wasn't.
And if it's not true, so what? Why let it make you mad that some people believe it? It doesn't directly effect the events of your day, so it needn't effect your life one way or another, any more than a fly should be expected to worry about your taxes. Your job and family aren't in jeopardy by accepting the fact--pretty unshakable if you have an open mind--that 'they're here.' So what's the big deal? Why is science unwilling to even accept mountains of eyewitness testimony as the basis for even a workable hypothesis? Shall I tell you? Or do you know by now that once you open that door you can never close it, that admitting the truth will not provide us with answers so much as an infinite number of terrifying realities. Do we really want to learn that we're not on the top of the food chain after all? Do we want to know what really happens to those mutilated cattle, and the missing children?
There's so many documentaries on UFOs out there that are either a) conservative, no-risk science with flimsy rationalizations, b) full of obvious hoaxes almost to discredit the entire idea, and c) stuck at the "But what if...." stage. The CLOSE ENCOUNTERS documentary goes way past all that to become its own one-doc disclosure proclamation: "well... so they're definitely real, science now has its hard evidence, so what now?" I like that, it takes guts, and the shoddy construction of the film helps it go down with just enough dubious fringes--just enough BLAIR WITCH-iness-- that you can still fall asleep at night.
|Gulf Breeze - ceiling light, jellyfish, or UFO- still cool|
I also like that it looks beyond the hang-up a lot of UFO researchers have about "disclosure," as if disclosure is the be-all and end-all, that once it happens all their worries will be over because they'll know for sure they were right, which is understandable if you're devoted to the study and have been doing all this good work for so long while idiots around you jeer and scientists wont let you in their dorky clubs, or that you're jonesing for some mainstream recognition, to become the Newton or Einstein of your day, but if you're not, why do you care so much what the government says? Even when they disclose you know they'll be lying.
Validation from Big Brother is just the curtain parting on an even bigger curtain. It's like THE WIZARD OF OZ suddenly reversed, with the gentle old man Frank Morgan as the mask in front--the sneering scientist declaring UFOs a lot of rot--and the crazy green face--terrifying in its size and scope like you can't imagine, waiting behind the curtain, and behind that, still another curtain to be pulled, maybe scarier, maybe stranger. Don't blame the shadowy sects who work so hard keeping that curtain in place to spare you the shock and awesome horror. They're just the macro representation of your own consciousness and its repressive mechanisms pulling curtains on childhood traumas.
And anyway, even if it's not true, you can pretend you're pretending it's true for the scare effect, like THE BLAIR WITCH and PARANORMAL ACTIVITY (above, see also my Acidemic review).
It might be interesting though, to hear posts from people still wrestling with whether or not aliens are on our planet, coming and going in ways our science can't comprehend any more than a dog can comprehend nuclear physics. And in our sly will-to-stay-sane-y way, we're playing right into their hands. At any rate, they like things as they are -- obviously. They don't want to land on the White House lawn like scared skeptics demand any more than nature documentary teams want to intervene in the matters of the the African Serengeti. Imagine a pride of lions reasoning that they're the highest life form in the universe, because if those humans at the edge of the preserve really existed, why don't they come forward and challenge the dominant male of the pride? Obviously as they have no fangs and claws--they're not real... hairless white apes, whoever heard of such a thing!
|Arizona lights, 1997|
Or now take the metaphor further, the conservationists decide to tag the ears of some gazelles so they can monitor the population, and to check their blood and see what parasites they're carrying, etc.. So they grab a gazelle, take a blood sample, tag its ear with a plastic tag, and release it back into the wild. Maybe while examining him they notice he has ringworm, so they give him a shot for it. Then they release him into the wild and he gambols away as if nothing happened. The gazelle's brain isn't really hardwired to accept this strange event, but somehow this gazelle, even without a proper memory as such, feels that something weird happened to him, something not of his usual world.
Even more complex agendas persist: some humans invade the preserve and kill gazelles for sport, or to take their horns or meat, sometimes under the guise of being conservationists so they don't get arrested by the game warden. There's not much gazelles can do about it, so they forget it. In dreams they remember the white men with the tags and needles as a lion, a lion with thin sharp venomous stinger claws, but only in dreams, cover memories, ways to try and fit the strange events of their lives into their normal existence. If the abducted gazelle demands the dominant buck do something about it, the only avenue said buck has, therefore, is to assure the herd this gazelle was only dreaming... so as not to start a needless panic or stampede.
This conversation never happened. Do you deny it? Don't worry, aliens can't stand the cold germs that God, in his infinite wisdom, spread upon the earth, and every once in awhile a fast lion takes a human hunter down. They can be stopped. Oh yes. But first they have to be believed, and not in a half-assed 'oh yeah, military knows all about 'em' way, but in a "holy freakin' we're barely a pawn in this cosmic game and we're fin to get our asses kicked off the board any day now" way, and who wants to deal with that, except artists and crazy people? For they alone have always felt thus. Ask not for whom the flu germs toll, they toll for thee, so why not stay in bed and just dream it all away?
Uncle Sam shall thy pillow fluff.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
One of the mission statements of this blog is to combine speculation with suspicion, parapsychology and para-science with outsider shamanistic intuition. Ideas like life after death, aliens, ghosts, inter-dimensional wormholes, are so out there that we can't really grasp them except through art, speculative fiction, etc. This is how the government disseminates UFO information to the public: shrouded in enigma and contradictory testimony, like what the 'code' of old Hollywood did when addressing the question of 'did they or didn't they?' in the fadeout between the night's kiss and the next morning's breakfast. The prudes and kids thought they didn't, the experienced and lecherous knew they did - both answers were right via the code. For the alien question, the MAJ-12 strategy is to make sure most of the important details are available, for those of us drawn to the subject, to familiarize ourself as part of a gradual public awareness. The analogy might be made to sex talk in elementary school - some kid might know what goes on, but he might be lying. We hope he is and the space created in that hope allows for the slow familiarization, so by the time we know for a fact what sex is, in say, 7th grade, we're not as horrified as we were in, say, 3rd.
But thought through to its end game, the idea of military complex-spread disinformation is so tragically clever that it becomes a kind of structuralist super virus, one that multiplies within itself and spreads through human thinking and reason until the very foundations of truth vs. illusion, fiction vs. reality, and all other dualities crackle and dissolve.
There's no need to ask yourself if 'disinformation' as a tool exists, since it's so ingeniously simple to execute that a child could do it and often does without even knowing it. It's easy and fun and no government would be stupid enough not to employ it. The only thing is, a child doing it has a wolf-crier's trouble being believed if he reverses Occam's Razor and replaces a simple truth with a complex lie. An organization devoted to propaganda within the military industrial complex on the could easily mask a very simple and disturbing truth with an elaborate tapestry of fictions we'd rather believe, hence the obvious fact (aliens exist) is prevented from overwhelming our sheltered reality since it's bathed in flaky unreliable haziness.
If the men who circumscribe the parameters of our reality do this long enough, however, reality itself split into an acid trip of blurred and shattered boundaries between realms of existence.
Central to the idea of 'disinformation' - and what makes it compelling - is that it actually does make inseparable the elements of truth with pure fantastical speculation. We forget which is which. If we ever knew for sure, as in if someone came along who could tip the balance and make the truth undeniable, they would have to kill that person. Or to paraphrase Hamlet, to be or not to be is the question only if you have not yet understood the answer which is that we are always both actions at the same time, which again brings us back to the concept of myth, like a ring around a goddamned Rosie.
Scientists each have their own ethical code, but when it comes to, say, experimenting on the living brains of chimpanzees, all may not be of accord. Some may close their sense of compassion to the chimp completely off, refuse to grant it the courtesy of human emotion - see it merely as an animal and their work as too important to stop the torture. Another scientist may feel a connection and attempt to ease the chimp's suffering, teach it some rudimentary sign language, show it some TV. If all the chimps were then returned to the wild, in what sense would the 'altered' chimps be able to explain their abduction and tests at the hands of the humans in white masks and gloves, to their fellow apes? The humans would be angels or devils depending on which human scientist was in charge of them.
Some of the skeptic chimps might argue that since the fur of the 'abductee' contains no bite marks or claw marks where the humans opened his flesh then there is no 'evidence' of any operation. A stitched-up scar for example might be regarded as a row of insect bites or dismissed as an anomaly.
Reasons why the chimp was abducted would be so far outside their own realm of chimp thinking that the only way they could perhaps be understood was through a tribal song, a ballad about white tall ghost chimp gods that plucked apes from trees and brought them up to the sky to a giant termite mound, where they taught them language and astronomy; other chimps talk of giant sky god devils who opened the chimp's heads with glowing termite sticks and ate their brains, replacing them with pieces of jungle fruit. Gradually over the years, as the stories accrue, the myth of the sky god angels and devils would twist and include agendas of different chimp kings: 'The hairless white gods told us that Magador must be the one true chimp king!' A few generations later: "Magador was a hairless white chimp God!"
A few generations after that, anyone who claims Magador was just a chimp and not a sky god, is burned at the stake.
Humans believe in a fixed consensual reality, even though mystics and quantum physics proves there is no such thing; yet it's a truth just too shattering to fully accept since to follow the reasoning to the end leads you back around to the beginning and the realization that all truth is fiction.
But consider these different states that humans sometimes find themselves in-- and which we believe are normal at the time-- but that might be very different from 'consensual' reality. I list them below in order of what I believe is their level of intense weirdness:
'Reality' (consensual) - 3-dimensional, anchored in space and time
Dreams - non-dimensional (4th), outside space and time
Sleep Paralysis - 2nd dimension w/ 4th dimensional cracks (here is the level where time and space begin to melt off)
Fever - Delirium - accidental access to 4th dimension caused by neural overheating
Trance (via meditation) - same as above but intentional
Psychedelic / shamanistic vision - full on immersion into 4th-9th dimensions
Nirvana - All dimensions accessed / transcended, including space-time; consciousness untangled and returned to AUM consciousness
Near-Death Experience / Death - 9th dimensional access, no return except via new opening through to lower dimensions. (Your body / tunnel through to space/time has closed behind you)
Now when we think of aliens coming to earth, or being here all the while, we only really think of the first level, the 3-D consensual reality. But what about the rest of the levels? Aliens might well consider, say, the third eye psychedelic inter-dimensional state, the ones only a few humans sometimes reach, to be much more 'real' and the place they do their visiting and invasion from. (Hence they're most often seen by schizophrenics, trippers and people with high fevers). Maybe these aliens could/can see and exist simultaneously in all of the above dimensions and realms of thought, whereas we can be in 'only one' space at a time. To them we might look like a giant water slide ride snaking line of motion, a projected film where each image remains on the screen and the images pile forward so that if you don't have 4D vision it just looks like a black wiggling blob. To them humans seem like 4D snake lines, with heads newborn babes at the front of the line and tales withered old dying men. Each time the human thinks that if he doesn't see any aliens when he's sliding down the water slide, when frankly, his attention is focused elsewhere, on the long tunnel tube in front of him, then they can't exist.
Meanwhile there they are--far off in old people lawn chairs, drinking wine coolers--watching us play in the water until they see a weak one who needs to 'come out' and rest for awhile (and maybe be diced up and sent back into the primordial soup).
We can get an impression of just how close these beings always are when we have deep out of body trance experiences. As someone who more or less stumbled on the ability and could do it at will, sometimes, for a few months here and there (in 1987, 1991 and 2006), I can share some of the feelings involved in moving outside one's body:
One notable thing is the awareness of one's presence inside one's body, suddenly not being fixed to one's actual body, more like a brain with a long trail of writing jelly fish nerve endings that fill up various end points of the body, like a hermit crab might lodge himself inside a shell. So for example with some concentration you can let go of your auric tendril's hold on your physical form and 'feel' like you are standing vertically while lying in bed, let's say, or floating in place while your body revolves below you, or above you, there's no difference... your gravity can shift so that you are rotating with the atmosphere -- say the moon's gravitational drag holds your astral body in place while your physical body slowly rotates away below you in a slow clockwise direction. Or you can feel the magnetic pull northward lifting you up, ass first, out of yourself and up along the ceiling towards the north, only to gradually rotate around back into your form, with the slow measured regularity of a swinging hypnotists' pendulum.
Another is the sensation of being around much larger beings that are just out of sight, 'behind' the bands of light that constitute our aura, huge astral forms that watch over us-and by extension human consciousness -- the way parents reading the Sunday newspaper might watch over their 2-3 year old infant playing below their feet.
This was a recurring and very pleasant sense of presence I encountered during many sessions of deep astral meditation. At one point I found the hand of this being on my shoulder as I sat in the lotus position, as if it was sitting behind me, and put its giant, electromagnetically vibrant hand on my shoulder--like a cleansing lightning. For awhile this giant teacher's message was I must go and spread the word of God, etc. etc., but there's so many people who think they're Jesus out there that the idea seemed too literal. So as an artist and writer, you calm down and remember that no one likes a sanctimonious windbag telling them what to do just because he had a little white light experience and now thinks he's the what's what. So you humble up and try to incorporate these experiences into your work in such a way as to reach whomever they were meant to be communicated to. I'd say William Blake (below) is probably the finest example of this. Herman Melville's Moby Dick is another.
Another being from beyond I encountered a few years back: a giant revolving planet-sized Medusa headed tentacle-wreathed (instead of snake hair) behemoth approximately the size and shape of Pluto, I was floating in place outside the orbit of this giant tentacled planet head, but again above the sway of its gravity so that it revolved below me, and I knew that there was a giant red squid-beak mouth coming my way along the head, a flaming Molloch (METROPOLIS) door mouth that would inhale and scald, rend and devour my entire soul, mind, and body when it next revolved under me, so I became very devout and pleading and promised to spread the word of this giant space octopus head far and wide, like the Silver Surfer heralding Galactus. When I returned to my physical body I wrote a song 'Spare me, Space Octopus' but... it sucked. While wondering if this C- of an effort would be enough to spare me come 'da rapture,' I found lots of weird coincidental things on the internet that would indicate I was not alone in having this bizarre encounter. All sorts of authors, musicians, and artists have made deals with the giant Medusa head: H.P. Lovecraft (Cthulu, Yog Soggoth, all his other elder gods); the Spaghetti Monster 'religion,' and Medusa herself in Greek myth, and even this cool T-Shirt, which I bought and now run in to the bewilderment of fellow joggers and parkgoers:
So that's just an example I guess... of disinformation in action.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
In case you haven't seen it yet, be prepared to have your neurons re-arranged. Can this even be possible? How many years did it take? Six million hits later, the mystery endures. It makes me proud to have married an Argentine, however briefly...
Saturday, May 22, 2010
"Snakes in the grass, you and I."
--Joni Mitchell ("Don Juan's Reckless Daughter")
Ever since seeing that Sumerian sculpture of the Annunaki, I've been remembering very bizarre experiences I've had over the years. Now a recent photo from David Eckhart (below left) hits me between the eyes so I must report in full my experiences, for posterity:
The fist occurred around 1982, when I was 15: Always kind of a weird, shy but creative kid, I was really into comic books, one of my favorites was Elfquest. Anyway, I had a very vivid dream set on Mars or similar red planet: a vast empty, lunar-style landscape with a dark red sky. The only feature on the landscape was a set of jungle gym-style monkey bars where I was hanging out with a bunch of Elfquest elves. I hated my school, had no friends, but these elves! I felt like I belonged with them, a really strong feeling of love and connection that struck me deeply; I'd never felt that kind of loyalty/love before.
Then, walking slowly towards us from across the vast plain was the silhouette of a single figure, which I knew was Death, or a demon, at any rate the 'end' of my new friends-- and I wanted to protect them, so I told them to stay by the bars, and I walked forward to meet this being as it approached us.
I was scared but had courage via my love for the elves. However, the closer I approached this figure, the more nervous static energy seemed to envelop me, like a wasp buzzing inside and outside my head. Finally, I was maybe five feet away from the being: he was wearing a sweartshit and sweatpants, with the hood up, and had on a cheap rubber Halloween skull mask, with red pin points of light in the center of the big black eye-holes.
Again, filled with new courage, I walked up and looked closely into the red of the being's eyes, knowing that if I could stare this being down, I'd save my friends. Again, I felt this extreme buzzing in my head, like radio static that was really an infinite number of mathematical equations and computations coming at me via telekinetic transference, kind of like a morse code or something... it was abstract but I understood it somehow and it was inflating me with strange, burning energy. I remember in the dream thinking, "I'm merging with all alien insectoid intelligence!" The energy in my head and body swelled and swelled the longer I looked into the being's red glowing eyes. The deeper I looked the more the message became pure empty mathematics.
It would have been just a dream, except the energy buzz was so strong it woke me from my bed, and not just like from a vivid dream or nightmare but like from something real! I literally jumped out of bed and bounced around the room like I had just gotten off an intense rollercoaster. I was full of crazy electric energy and still anxious to protect the elves. Every nerve and hair on my body was full at attention. I could still feel the presence of this being slowly fading away, not just in my head but all around. I didn't, however, see any evidence of a being in the room or outside -- no ships or lights or anything -- that I recall.
For the next few months I was obsessed with getting back to that dream, the sense of love and connection I felt with the elves, etc., so I read through my Elfquests maniacally, every night, to try and get the dream back. I was possessed! I never really thought of the being, though, but he would return! Not the elves... although I found their human incarnation in 1987, in gorgeous Connecticut hippies who took me in as one of their own.
Flash forward to November 1992, and I was back from college and travels and travails and was living at home in my old bedroom. I was very sick--a huge terrible fever-- and woke up one early evening around 6 PM (it was dark already, being the winter) from around 23 solid hours of writhing in fever delirium, I was in the grips of sleep paralysis and finally jumped out of it, to see this huge demon looming over me in me room, I recognized it immediately as the same one from the elf dream so many years before, though the skull mask was off and it was laughing at me, like amused I was trying to struggle out of my sleep paralysis and escape.
I was freaked out and all my hairs stood on end again and with all my might I jumped up and stood on the bed, so I could be taller than the being, and shouted at it to go away. I kept screaming: leave! go! Go AWAY! GO AWAY! It smiled wider--laughing at me (but not making a sound)--and gradually faded to moonlight reflections on my bookshelf. I remember being in total awe of how perfectly every detail of the being's face, fangs, eyes, scales, all fit perfectly into the reflections of light from the streetlight and moon out my window on my book spines.
I've seen demonic hallucinations here and there in between and after these two experiences, but never were they allowed to get "that far" before I'd pull away my attention. I instinctively realized the best way to deal with these beings is to ignore them when they're still at the "shadow" stage or to confront them, but to not stare and recoil in horror or fascination at the same time, because they feed on fear energy to manifest themselves into your consciousness. You see them, therefore they can define themselves as a corporeal body in 3D space time... the longer you stare, the more vividly they materialize.
It's mind-boggling to watch a demonic figure form itself from, say, the patterns of a fire in a fireplace on the side of leather couch, or a painting on a wall or what have you. Scientists dismiss this stuff because they have a name for it: "hallucinations." But if you follow real science to the end of the quantum physics rainbow, then you know: if you see it, it exists, because you're seeing it, and just seeing the thing gives it power to manifest. Maybe science is trying to protect us by saying "Look away!" or to belittle these visions as inconsequential remnants of an archaic cortex on fire with fever or drug withdrawal. When one thinks of the Catholic exorcist strategy of ignoring telekinetic displays from possessed patients or houses, of refusing to be shocked or scared or acknowledge anything's out of the ordinary, this is perhaps a clue of how science uses skepticism as a way of protecting us from being invaded. If we look at these things too long with too much fear, who knows how corporeal they may become?
Now this last dream/hallucination I had a few months ago, wherein I was walking home from some late dinner to a motor-court/motel in a parched, lonely, lunar-style desert and maybe 20 feet away from the walkway was that same demon figure standing perfectly still, framed against the expanse of desert mountains behind him in the distance, glowing in the lights over the motel walkway.
This time I was neither young, nor sick, so I was able to approach the being from a detached observer state. Again he had a unique mix of being perfectly still and totally in movement, not breathing exactly but seeming to feed off the energy drawn from my dream reality; like a waterfall, where all the water flows towards this points where it disappears over the falls-- the reptoid was like the falls and everything around me was the water on the high part of the river, about to fall....flowing towards him. He seemed to "not belong" in my dream, like something inserted from another dimension, a 5th dimensional giant tweezer end coming down on a 2-d glass slide.
Another analogy is the obelisk in the movie 2001. The presence of the reptoid standing still and grinning but not moving, reminded me a lot of the strange trans-dimensional presence of the black obelisk in that film.This time I wasn't afraid like I was when I had the fever. In a way, I knew I was safe since it had visited me over the years before, there was obviously some reason for these visits, and that's why I remember them so clearly as opposed to the rest of my dreams and visions, which fade away fast.
The uncanny similarity of these beings in my dreams to the reptilians in Sumerian sculpture and to Tibetan demons has fascinated me ever since, especially as I knew nothing of reptilian conspiracy theory or Tibetan or Sumerian legends until the third experience.
I also used to suffer from sleep paralysis, and once around 1991, I was taking an afternoon nap and experienced the paralysis and felt myself lifted, ass-up onto the ceiling where I was rolled on out the window (my friend's apt in Manhattan) and up up up to the sky faster and faster, like my underwear had been hooked on an invisible fishing wire. I summoned all my psychic energy to escape, woke up and like before jumped out of bed with a fright, the hairs standing on end all over my arms and legs, and a feeling that "this was more than a dream." But there was no one to tell it to. These subjective experiences are hard to translate, and most people don't want to hear it.
I wonder on some level if sleep paralysis isn't a kind of litmus test wherein the weak ones who can't fight it are taken, or not taken, but that somehow sleep/dream unconscious energy opens or can occasionally open a powerful interdimensional gateway and perhaps sleep paralysis ties in somehow.
Weird aspects of sleep paralysis include that I can be sleeping right next to someone when it strikes, but though I'm struggling and yelling to wake up, they don't even notice, even if they're awake. Could this be similar to the alien abduction strangeness, where people disappear through the ceiling or the wall with their spouse sleeping next to them, never noticing? When I went downstairs to see my mom after that aforementioned fever dream, she said she'd heard nothing at all from upstairs, though I had been screaming at the top of my lungs for her help for perhaps a whole 30 or 40 seconds, or so it felt - I had no dream-within-a-dream second wake up, I had run downstairs right after I woke up and the demon had so slowly and laughingly vanished! How clear it was and how perfectly it disappeared into the reflections of light on the spines of books on my shelf. I can still see it perfectly and feel those eyes peering into my soul, and the mocking laughter as I shouted it back into the shadows, completely amazed as the definitions of the thing fit like a perfect painting back into the bookshelf in the moonlight.
Anyway, so there it all is. i have no obsessive anxiety about being abducted--as in trauma of repressed memories--and don't think I really have been, but I do feel I've been "visited" - though for now the reptoid / daemons seem content to watch, and occasionally hook me, lift me out of the water, and throw me back, so to speak, too small, under the galactic legal limit. And who's to say dreams aren't just as valid a reality as this one? It's totally possible to get to the third-eye open state where you see the exact same things with your eyes closed or open, for example. It happened to me once for about 6 minutes. Terrifyingly cool! Another story for another time!
PS - I mention these dreams not to claim I'm a special conduit or hybrid, but to share weird experiences. While I agree that, yes, fevers lead to hallucinations, I also wonder if science isn't missing a fascinating opportunity to study the bedrock of reality and perception by delving more into the nature of hallucinations and visions rather than just dismissing them as "not real." In the paraphrased words of Aldous Huxley, if the doors of perception were truly and completely cleansed we'd see a lot of beings from a lot of higher dimensional beings interacting with us in ways so perfectly intertwined its beyond our 'conscious mind' comprehension. A tea kettle for example, might turn out to be somebody's space helmet. Your sudden need to move it off the stove coincides perfectly with his stepping out of the rocket onto the moon. If you keep lots of demon representations around you room--figurative statues, African tribal masks-- maybe you can make it so easy for them to appear that they can't, like you somehow, as they say, "blew up their spot."
The contempt these scientists show for ancient astronaut theory, UFOlogy, witness testimony, crop circles, demonology, astrology, etc. as being beneath "serious academic consideration" is all fear-based: guilt by association with the "lunatic fringe" and the idea that no one wants to be the messenger of news so bad no one can handle hearing it. For if the government/scientific complex admits there's aliens, they also have to admit they're powerless against them, and that defeats the whole purpose of a government/scientific complex.
Actually, paranormal researchers have to be twice as careful as regular "experts" because the skeptics are very quick on the trigger. That is, until they're forced by consistent results, or one or two brave researchers (like Rick Strassman or Terence McKenna) to reconsider, as in the way acupuncture and eastern medicine has slowly and reluctantly been admitted into hospitals and insurance coverage. Western medicine is pissed off that they don't know how acupuncture works, but they can no longer deny that it does.
Scientists shouldn't be scared if people "want to believe" in something science wants, by inclination, to disprove. Rather, western science should take a hard look in the mirror at itself before it judges the rest of us as flakes and crackpots. At least we admit we don't know what's going on, and we stay open to new evidence and ideas. We respect science as all-important in our development -- but it's not the whole picture. Trying to actually launch our physical bodies into space seems way too literal compared to exploring "astral body travel" which may be how many of these beings operate. Scientists are still saying space travel between our galaxies is so unlikely thanks to the huge distances, but they don't even consider the whole idea of distance might itself be a hallucination.
Hey man, we--right, left, up, down-- need each other. Without the speculations of the sci fi fringe, science would calcify and become as repressive and dogmatic as that haven of ritual child-torture, the Vatican. Without science to fight against and try to convince, the fringe would be forced to realize the catastrophic consequences of believing all of this stuff much too fast. Maybe Bush was a shape-shifting reptoid, but that doesn't mean we could have stopped him even if the whole world had known!
Thus for the truth to be true by definition it must dribble from the mouths of babes, lest our fellow cattle be spooked into a stampede. If some of us want to quietly evolve off of the ranch on our own, the daemons wont use direct force to stop us - by order of cosmic law - only trickery. All they ask if we do make it past them: don't spook the rest of the herd. They've invested heavily in breeding programs to yield a maximum head count. So don't worry about them - all now living will become enlightened (another cosmic message I received); just get your heart lighter than a feather before you get sucked into the scythe swipe thresher at the end of the net of time along with the rest of Noah's rejects! In the words of Sam Spade: See you at the inquest, maybe.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
If you ever want to really understand why shadowy government agencies continue to hide the existence of alien life visiting earth, watch CLOSE ENCOUNTERS (1977) again, and really study the behavior of Roy (Richard Dreyfuss), the immature "everyman" who makes mountains out of his mashed potatoes and frightens his family half to death with his lunatic ravings about UFOs. He's the guy we're supposed to identify with, one of the "chosen" invited to the party. And yet he's unable to accept the "truth" of the aliens until he's right there seeing them and touching them, even then he's more a wide-eyed kid at Disneyland than an adult trying to grasp this vast importance of this cosmic event. By making himself a mere patron on a UFO ride, Roy once infantalizes himself as a glorified spectator, a fan.
By contrast, CLOSE ENCOUNTERS regularly switches to the "insiders" led by Claude Lacombe (Francois Truffaut). While
There is a scene early in the film wherein a group of air traffic controllers are gathered around a radio listening to flying saucer reports from one of their planes. They ask him if he wants to report a UFO: "No. I wouldn't know what to report," the shaken but professional pilot answers.
By the terrified citizen standard, not reporting the incident that pilot is "hiding" from possible peer ridicule, but the reasons are actually more muddled: If this unseen pilot had chosen to make a report he may be ostracized, not for "believing" in aliens but for reporting the encounter, for clinging to the lie of "real" authority, expecting that someone higher up will have an explanation for him. In other words, these men in the military are forced to grasp the notion of the ungraspable real, the other, the "stain" in Lacanian terminology. By choosing to not allow the UFO into their consensual reality in this way, the pilot and those gathered maintain their positions within the symbolic order. They know there are UFOs, and they know there is no explanation for them; but they can "handle" the truth, and the way they handle it is by realizing and accepting that there is no possible rational explanation and not letting it get them too rattled. There's still a job to do. Roy can't go to work or function in society once the 'truth' overtakes him, that's why he's not ready for it.
This split between these "grown ups" and "adult children" is further borne out in a scene in CLOSE ENCOUNTERS where panicked citizens meet with government officials in a press conference. The government officials basically acknowledge that the citizens saw something that no one has an answer for. If the townsfolk were to really "hear" this news, they would just sit there, pale and shaken, but they clamor. These citizens cannot recognize that the symbolic authority of the adult government has been removed by the presence of this advanced alien intelligence. The explanation they are looking for does not exist; but this is simply not good enough for them, so they throw a mass temper tantrum, which is in itself a sign they are not ready for the truth.
Another popular consciousness movie touchstone might be examined here to see how a person can move from one level to the other. (
This is a key moment in Jeffrey's evolution as a male, and this psychic growth is something that's present in all of Lynch's films: Jeffrey doesn't panic, but rather greets the crooked cop with a smile and a handshake, as if he knows nothing of the matter. The chief is impressed and later when Jeffrey denies he knows who the cop is to Laura Dern, the chief says, "Good boy, Jeffrey." -- an acknowledgment of Jeffrey's newfound complicity within the social order. Jeffrey proves he can keep a secret, in this case the most important secret of all being the complete lack of 'truth' or solidity at the center of the social order, and this is the secret all true adults must guard. The 'dumb' citizens seldom realize that they need their politicians to lie - need to not believe in their leaders, so as to always presume there's more, rather than less, going on 'upstairs.'
We have a similar thing going on today in the world as we approach 2012: global warming, water and oil shortages; inflation, over-population, whatever you want to obsess on. We know something's up, but at the same time as long as the president doesn't come on national TV and proclaim any of this as officially doomsday, evacuate in a calm, orderly manner, say goodbye to your ass, etc., we're going to be all right. This is the trap we find ourselves in as we enter the age of total digital reality.
The infantilization of the masses by the ruling elite--both in film and in real life-- is no joke, and anyone with any authority knows that a large part of their job is simply to "embody" the "one who knows." By acting contemptuous and dismissive towards the citizenry's concerns at the aforementioned press conference scene in CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, the government agents allow the citizenry to continue to live in the illusion that somewhere along the chain of command there is someone who has the situation well in hand.
Now to bring this to our own current situation, which is the slow--presumably permitted--leak in information about the existence of aliens that's coming through on the internet, which manages to disperse information so rapidly that the shadowy government insiders would be hard pressed to stop it even if they wanted to, but one gets the impression they don't want it to. Rather, they want to continue to release the information with just enough disinformation to let them keep control. As long as there's debate about whether it's factual, we won't panic. People have an option not to believe if it scares them.
To put it in the Lacanian terms: during the infamous 3 1/2 second, Ilsa and Rick did not do it for the big Other, the order of public appearance, but they did do it for our dirty fantasmatic imagination - this is the structure of inherent transgression at its purest, i.e. Hollywood needs BOTH levels in order to function.
As Zizek points out, this two-sided reading is not only present but essential for control to exist. By a similar token, it is safe for us to believe in aliens because the government does deny their existence. Once the president comes out and tells the actual truth, civilization as we know it will instantaneously collapse, the way the
To really begin to believe in the alien conspiracy is to invite a complete collapse of values into your psyche; there are myriad "truths" to believe in, but one of the more obvious ones is that most humans are alien-ape hybrids. One of the most depressing is that we are a "soul farm" and gray-reptoid aliens eat our pain and suffering as snacks before they devour our souls. (which explains the fearsome appearance of Tibetan Demonology), and this is the reason why overpopulation runs amok, and that governments doesn't want us experimenting with drugs that will show the man behind the curtain, why they want to burn and destroy anyone who shows the way clear of bondage. It may be depressing, may not even be true, but it's one of the more acceptable all-encompassing answers to life's mysteries (the alien gene splice is, then,
The challenge is not to wonder what in that preceding morass of horrible truth and CIA disinformation is real or not, but to realize that if even one shred of it is true, just how vast and incredible its implications are. If you're not completely freaked out by the idea of alien life on this planet then you're not thinking about it clearly. You're thinking about it in the same abstract way you might think about death if you're not enlightened. You're still on the fence, wondering if its all true, still denying your own death, your own mortality, still clinging to possessions and temporal space like a kid grabbing his mom's ankles to prevent his having to go to school. You may believe in Jesus, but aren't sure if he rose from the dead, maybe believe in Santa Clause but not the Easter Bunny, and maybe you don't really believe in anything 100% and that's probably the smartest tactic, but it leaves you awfully numb.
To which Rinpoche replies:
"Have you actually realized the truth of impermanence? Have you so integrated it with your every thought, breath and movement that your life has been transformed? Ask yourself these two questions: Do I remember at every moment I am dying and that everyone and everything else is, and so treat all beings at all times with compassion? Has my understanding of death and impermanence becomes so keen and so urgent that I am devoting every second to the purpose of enlightenment? If you can answer yes to both of these then you have really understood impermanence." (p. 27)to the concept of alien life on this planet. Have you truly grasped the implications of "the truth" of alien existence? Have you overcome the egoic blinders that make you run to snap judgments and ridicule, the same defense mechanisms so overworked to keep you from thinking about death? If so, wouldn't you be spending, as Rinpoche describes "every second to the purpose of enlightenment?"
The mechanisms that keep you from thinking about death all the time are important for your functionality and sanity, but when you listen to them exclusively, life loses its scent of danger and excitement, and the dour wardens of your inner asylum start slowly taking away privileges. They only let go of your throat when they hit the wall of cancer or a gun in the face or death row... or psychedelics or meditation or exhaustion obliterates them temporarily. Is it any wonder that mind-expanding drugs are illegal and meditation such a hard habit to integrate into your life?
Or even more understandable--and chilling-- is it any wonder that even those convinced of the alien presence prefer to focus on issues of disclosure and evidence gathering, rather than actually altering their world view to the point of nervous breakdown? For once you "let it in," the truth about aliens cements so many missing connections, answers so many questions, that you find yourself on a whole other level of consciousness. Now that you believe in greys, anti-gravity propulsion, inter-dimensional doorways and reptoids, you can begin to deal with issues like the Pleiadians, angels, God, reincarnation, and the light to dark ratio of your own immortal soul. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," the man behind the curtain shouts. But he's doing you a favor; the man behind the curtain is you.