The sciences are all about repeatability and categorization. This is how scientists come to know the world. But if there is an independent (or interdependent) intelligence behind so-called “alien abductions” and associated phenomena, two things and only two things are clear about it: It doesn’t care what we call it. And defining it has no bearing on our relationship with it. Our wondering at its facade is our own hangup. What unfolds between us is what we share.
No, the enigmatic other doesn’t give a whit if we think it’s an alien, a time traveller, a demon, a fairy, an angel, a ghost, schizophrenia, a dream, alive or dead. It doesn’t care to correct us, and truly, our interactions with this intelligence have nothing to do with categorization. Repeatability is a different question we’ll get into shortly.
In fact, let’s go one step deeper. It does not matter what experiencers name these beings, think we know about them, where they’re from, and all that. The thing that does not matter, then, is our certainty and our uncertainty. If you handle your experiences with certainty that these are alien doctors studying us and I handle mine by saying I don’t know anything, that these beings are a mystery… does it matter to the beings at all? Do we not end up in the same place?
If what we claim to know about them or not know about them doesn’t affect the experiencing of these things at all, then perhaps science as it currently stands cannot give us a proper framework to explore this, for our “objective” and “subjective” stances carry equal weight in the eyes of these beings. Perhaps that’s why they engage equally with one who thinks they’ve got it all figured out, one who believes they know at least something about it, and one who says they don’t know anything. At the end of the day, maybe factual knowledge has little correlation with our personal growth. This is a different kind of school than we’re used to–intellectual education need not apply. Maybe that is because these interactions transcend the rational and so cannot fully be captured by intellect.
Can’t be captured by it but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an anchor point in the rational. Nature unfolds along a “transcend and include” model. Transrationality, then, has a rational component to it. Perhaps repeatability is that component but it is hidden beneath the multitudes of subjective facades, individual and cultural. Perhaps we’re studying the wrong thing, trying to figure out what a ghost is, an alien, a mothman, and so forth. If these are subjective masks on the walls of our personal caves in our personal hero journeys then we need to look elsewhere for the objective thing. Might it be found in the result of the interactions? That is, the result of walking through the cave of masks and coming out the other side?
Who is that person? How does s/he differ from the one who tiptoed in?
When dealing with the seemingly unknowable, theories based on facades always crumble into belief. This is because researchers tend to stick to their theories until proven wrong, which they will not be, by definition. So if you believe, for example, in malevolent space vampires feeding off our negative emotions then any positive outcome for the experiencer will be seen as a trick from the advanced ghouls. But I haven’t known anyone who hasn’t grown more empathetic at least toward Earth and Nature as a result of their experiences be they positive or negative. Be they following the script of “alien doctor”, “space vampire”, “space brother”, friend, foe, or indifferent. How have we ignored this for so long?–That people whose experiences do not logically lead to empathy for Nature do just that? It’s a non sequitur that has been overlooked because it is a clue to an answer that is culturally more uncomfortable than even the dreaded “alien abduction” Hollywood punchline.
It all ends the same. The experiencer ends up caring deeply about the fundamentals of us all. Literally, our roots. The ground itself is sacred ground. People we can take or leave–but plants? Animals? The air? We cared before global warming was cool. But we didn’t care and mostly still do not know how to care as deeply as First Peoples around the world–and perhaps that’s why we have a different relationship with this enigmatic other than do they. We have different needs in terms of growth.
It is taken as a given that if intelligent beings far more ancient than seems possible given the track we’re on discovered us, they’d ignore us, kill us, enslave us, inject their technology into our system to help advance us, or observe us at a distance. The more hopeful among us believe they’d share information with us. That’s all fantasy based on the notion that how we are right now is the pinnacle of what it means to be human. It’s the fallacy of the intellect being the priority of the universe. I submit to you that what we are actually observing is an interaction wherein the importance of intellect is being negated.We are being show that the wholeness of being has an intellectual component, but it transcends this component. Perhaps knowledge, that most sacred grail of science, is only ever a local phenomenon. It is… ironically… subjective to our species and our time.
If the universal constant to sentient life is not a restless intellectual learning by doing and repeating, but a fuller, wordless intelligence and complete satisfaction in being… then if I were such a being I would only be interested in creating equals out of people from wherever who had that same spark. Because being is indivisible. That spark is the light. That light is one light. One light beaming out from behind different masks whether we’ve discovered it or not. And when we do discover it… What happens when we do? What happens when the faces we wear slough off?
What happens when they don’t?