"What I'm dealing with is so vast and great that it can't be called the truth. It's above the truth." - Sun Ra

Saturday, July 24, 2010

I Blur the Line


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. And part of that is no doubt tied into the very way the government disseminates UFO information to the public: shrouded in enigma and contradictory testimony, like what the 'code' of old Hollywood 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. 

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; 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 other hand could easily mask a very simple and disturbing truth with an elaborate tapestry of fictions we'd rather believe. 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 contain kernels of the whole truth, which are then made inseparable from elements of pure fantastical speculation - but which is which? If we ever knew for sure, they would have to kill us. Or to paraphrase Hamlet, that is the question... but only if you have not yet understood the answer, 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. 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 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 accrued, the myth of the sky termites would twist and include agendas of different chimp kings: 'The hairless white Termite Gods told us that Magador must be the one true chimp king!' A few generations later: "Magador was a hairless white chimp God!"


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 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 - 2, 4 dimensional, 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

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 a few humans sometimes reach to be much more 'real' and the place they do their visiting and invasion from. They could in fact see and exist simultaneously in all of the above dimensions and realms of thought, whereas we can be in 'only one' at a time, ideally... to them we might look like a giant water slide ride line -- humans in the line waiting to be born, they climb up into the light, are born, slide down the ladder and die, and go back around to start again in a new incarnation. Each time the human thinks that only the few minutes he's on the slide is when he's alive, and if he doesn't see any aliens in that brief time on the 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.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkID1I1EIM0