Why Alien Symbols And Math Will Turn Out To Be Meh-Worthy

Sigh.

Know what I’m sick of in ufology this week? It’s that the old guard is trying to gussy themselves up, polish their dull spots, and present themselves as not-the-problem. They are doing this by mimicking dissenting voices, downplaying hypnosis, and pretending to do scientific studies. It’s as if the world of ufology listened to Paratopia, read Project Core, and said, “I can sound like those guys!”

Listening to Peter Robbins talk about the problems of ufology on Jim Harold’s show is like listening to Jeff Ritzmann or me or a handful of others talk about those same problems–except we’d be naming him as one of the problems. Personality Disclaimer: Peter is a nice guy. I like him personally. This is not mud-slinging. It’s a fact that he is the very thing he’s lamenting in that interview.

Being a part of the solution means actually doing what you say you do–which is following the evidence wherever it leads. Not sounding like you do. Not claiming that you do. Actually doing it. And let’s not get started on feeling compelled to come up with new material to keep your career as a stage performer. I won’t accuse Peter of that, but his friends? Oh, the company he keeps.

But I’m only picking on Peter because I just listened to as much of that show as I could stomach. He’s not the whole of the problem; there are many like him. Some have even banded together to form “new” “scientific” groups doing “never-before-performed” studies and surveys of abductees.

Christ, really?

And these fresh faces of the new include the likes of the same-old-shit hypnotists that got us into this mess in the first place. One of them is working on decoding some mathematical equations allegedly given to alien abductees by aliens. This only interests me because an experiencer friend of mine told me back in September that members of his group were also coming back from experiences with equations and he wouldn’t tell me more than that. It was all hush-hush, apparently.

I’m going to go on a limb here and say that in all cases these equations will turn out to be of no consequence whatsoever. But I’m going to give you something to chew on as to why. No, it’s not the Trickster and I won’t make a Stan Romanek joke. It has to do with my last blog post.

If any bookworm out there in ufology is looking for a real clue that you can sink your teeth into to further the investigation into the nature of this stuff, I’m giving it to you free of charge. Unless you think the following is coincidence, someone with a brain please do something with this….

Hallucinogenic Transcendence

  • When one takes a dose of a psychedelic ample enough to break through to the crazy carnival of transpersonal mind, the barrier one goes through is a visual of flashing symbols and geometric patterns. It is as if one transcends logical structures to end up in the hyper-real imagination that exists beyond yet inclusive of one’s personal imagination.

Spiritual Transcendence

  • When one is on the verge of transcending the personal mind and transpersonal mind–leaving the brain-born and the human collective consciousness for that universal “I Am” nothingness/all things experience in which both minds exist, one receives logical, rational, spontaneous epiphanies and insights into the nature of reality.

Alien Communication/Download

  • Sometimes when one engages with the enigmatic other, often called “alien,” the communication begins with flashing symbols, geometric patterns, and mathematical formulas. And sometimes these are perceived to be “downloads.”

Could it be that in spirituality universal, logical truths come to us not because enlightened beings or god(s) deem us worthy to report such wisdom to our tribe but because that’s the barrier of the brain or of the rigid, rational self caving in?

Could it be that in the psychedelic trip it’s a similar story? A logical breech into the translogical means you see the logical being breeched?

Similar also in the “alien” encounter, which marries the two: an experiencer perceives these beings from on high downloading their brains with symbols or otherwise being shown flashing visuals of physics.

Could these three similar/same types of visuals be what the fabric of reality looks like when the egoic, rigid self is about to transcend its own state and/or its own physics? Do we, in those moments, necessarily see… physics?

There might be something we can grab onto here. At the very least, we can say that when these abductee equations come back as a hodge-podge of stuff we already know, we’ll have another theory to look at besides they’re lying, they’re delusional, or it’s the self-negating principle of Trickster Theory.

And we can now question whether these equations were given to them or were just a natural part of their hyper-real circumstance.

Hyper-real circumstance… hmmm… This means that an alien abduction… ah…  how do I put this delicately for the alien crusaders? … Wait for it… –ain’t nuts and bolts aliens here with us in the flesh and blood.

Yes, taking a look at what I just laid out means calling into question the reality in which abductions take place. It may mean there’s no Star Trek-like disclosure coming anytime soon because the abduction or communication–whatever the correct term is at this point–is taking place not in a ship hovering over one’s house, but in a frequency right next to channel normal, which is located just outside the bubble of the brain-born self.

Are the Peter Robbins’ of the world ready to tackle that? Ready to give up the hypnosis crusade and the Rendlesham noise of the dying cottage industry they built or partied in, yet now wish to publicly divorce themselves from?

Cricket… Cricket….

Sigh.

 

 

 

It’s. Happening. Again.

Dear Diary:

Okay, okay, I don’t keep a diary, much to the chagrin of one Tyler Kokjohn, who wishes I’d publish a diary. But if I did keep one, I would write in it this….

It’s happening again. I’m being flooded with sensible insights–truths–into life, the universe, and everything, while at work, that are so powerful and complete that I have to stop what I’m doing and jot them down lest I forget before making it home or to the next moment, whichever comes first.

Yeah, even in my diary I’d do run-ons.

The first time this happened it was at a temp job in New York. Thankfully, I had much less to do there than at my current job here, so it wasn’t annoying. Now it’s kind of annoying. Couldn’t the powers that be in my head choose, like, toilet time? Or, I’ve got nothing to do today–Mario Kart Racing, or get crackin’ on that Rupert Sheldrake book, decisions, decisions time? No-no, work. Work time. That’s fair. Assholes.

Still Urgent After All These Years.

The first time was a prelude to transcending… well… everything. I was flooded with these epiphanies, these unspoken and over-spoken points of clarity. They came as facts that appealed to the intellect. Years later, I expounded upon them and squeezed them into my book, Urgency. That they came before transcendence and not after is telling. Telling what, I don’t know, but it reminds me of the fact that the prelude to a deep hallucinogenic trip is flashing geometric patterns and symbols. Logic comes first and then is out the fucking window. Perhaps that is why we are making a beautiful world terribly uninhabitable to the best of our know-how. Let that sink in while I digress….

What comes next this time? After I’ve gotten this round of zeros and ones out of my system, am I invited back to the party I left to write about the party the first time? The first time left me with a decision to make: Go be yourself or BE. I didn’t know what BE-ing entailed so I came back to the Jer we all know and love and stalk and hate. Was it a mistake? Was it the right thing to do? Was the choice a necessary illusion? Does the illusion of choice present itself once you’re “back to normal,” i.e. back to dichotomies?

Perhaps nothing comes next. Perhaps I make a little detour back into mystical writings then quickly get to work on my highly anticipated adventure novel, Fartocalypse. (Just… go with it.)

Or perhaps a mutation occurs. No longer is there a taste of the all-encompassing stage beyond stages followed by a presentation of choice. Now it’s just poof, I am that. And you may never have any evidence that it happened except for this blog post. This blog post and the secret code I’ll have hidden in my highly anticipated comedy novel, Free Space: The Real Life Story of A Bingo Queen. (Don’t be surprised.)

The point is, Diary, this is happening again and so at the very least I’ll have a heaping, steaming, load of new perspectives that will blow the walls off our thinking box. The only question I can answer is: What to do with them?

Does anyone really care about another book? Or a trickle of blog posts? Or youtube videos?

Is there another way that is powerful and actually reaches people? Does it even matter at this point?

Dear Diary:

Are these truths unfolding in my head actually just something that happens? Though they are applicable to all because they are universal, could one small yet crucial fact have missed us completely through the ages?–Namely that, like the onslaught of geometry is prelude to a psychedelic transcendence of personal self into a carnival of Mind, an onslaught of intellectualized truths are prelude to a total transcendence of the personal self, the carnies beyond, and Mind.

Maybe they aren’t for anybody and at the same time apply to us all, which fools us into believing they need to be repeated or taught. They’re in me because they’re in all of us. They are us, voiced or not. And we’re the thing that needs to go. Be understood and thereby dissolved.

If that’s the case then these epiphanies are me shedding my skin. If you pick it up and wear it because it fits and feels right, first of all, ew. But second of all… you’ve just added another layer to yourself that needs to dissolve.

Helping people might be hurting people. Unless you see all of this with the clarity of an arrow through its bullseye.

Then we never need discuss this again.

Um…

Diary.

 

 

The Subtle Racism of Ufology

An Orb of Light Chris Brown Witnessed

On a recent episode of The Experience, I spoke with Ardy Sixkiller Clarke about her new book, Sky People. Through direct interviews with trusting people living in remote villages throughout Mesoamerica, Ardy paints a picture of “alien” phenomena that is both similar to what we’ve all heard and distinct. Distinct in that the predominant entity encountered is not a short gray doctor with wraparound eyes, but a ball of light that can morph into a (usually tall) humanoid. A light being.

The guest on this week’s show is Chris Brown–an American man who had a couple of ball light incidents, which really shook him up in the “I must tell the world at all costs/MUFON investigators say I’m the only one who has been this close to this phenomenon” sort of way.

Ah, I remember the days of “I must tell the world!” enthusiasm. But I also remember what comes next: belief/disbelief/ridicule/some friends and allies/some stalkers and trollers/nothing. George Hansen’s audience will recognize this as part of Trickster Theory: entering any paranormal field is like walking into the dangerous poppy fields of Oz, where everything goes wonky and you forget who you are. It’s a subculture war for the hearts and minds of anyone who will listen. It’s intellectual bum fights.

Lately I’ve come to wonder if this is accurate. Is there really a trap set by a seeming intelligence hovering about like an air-born hallucinogen, just waiting for us to step into its mist? Or is it more likely that this circus of responses to one’s abnormal experience ending in nothing concrete (and often tears) is what happens when the culture defines normalcy by exclusion?

I mean, if I were to take my ball of light encounters to someone, anyone, from an indigenous nation who was raised to listen with an ear toward inclusiveness, that person wouldn’t shut the door on my encounter because it doesn’t challenge their sense of normalcy. It adds to and enriches it. In Western culture it would only add to and enrich one’s experience if I told it as fiction. To tell it as nonfiction is taboo.

So perhaps this belief/disbelief/ridicule/some friendships/some stalkers and trollers/nothing churn is one of neuroticism produced by the friction of a subculture attempting to be inclusive within an exclusionary mainstream culture, which is where its real heart beats. Perhaps, just perhaps, this Trickster Theory is describing a defense mechanism inherent to Western thought.

Now let’s get back to Chris Brown’s experiences. He’s excited by them because he was told by MUFON investigators that they were unique in their close proximity. So close were these lights that he could describe what was happening within them. Never been done before. Never.

Never, MUFON? What about all of the Native Americans living right here who have such a close relationship with these ball light beings that they set a space aside for them to show up during ceremony and sweat lodges? What about the fact that they often do show up?

Mesoamerican research is one thing. Traveling expenses are ridiculous, so let’s all thank Ardy Clarke for putting up her own money to do this. But what about North America? Canada? What about right here? Why is it again on Ardy Clarke to talk to Native Americans in her first book and one forthcoming?

While it is true that ball light phenomena have been reported time and again in association with “alien”, “ghost/spirit”, and other encounters… and as I said, I’ve personally seen them… why does reading Ardy Clarke’s book feel like a revelation? Why was Chris Brown told his experience was unique?

Where are the voices from other cultures standing right beside us? Are we afraid to speak with them? Are we afraid to learn that they have a fuller understanding of certain phenomena because they’ve built relationships with intelligences we have yet to engage in any meaningful way, while we’re still stuck on “Is it real?” and “I know what I saw!” and “The government better tell us what it knows–We have a right!”

How does that Western mind–which, like a child, believes itself to be the pinnacle of what Mind is and therefore believes itself to be at the frontier of exploration–engage its neighbor who has already formed close bonds with the transrational beings we ogle at a distance?

What would happen to ufology and the infantile Disclosure Movement if they were to learn that there is nothing left to pioneer, discover, or fight for, because those words are products of a culture that dominates through exclusivity and separation? What if they learn that these transrational beings entered into relationship with non-Westernized peoples long ago and that their “rational mind” pinnacle is only as 1st World as their bullets and disease?

What revelation about us and our culture awaits us on the waking side of the poppy field? Do we want to find out?

Do we honestly?

I submit to you that we suffer from a fear greater than the alien and that is a fear of our own shortcomings. The shortcomings of how we process and shape reality. And that fear is why we rarely engage people we believe we’ve “conquered” or who are otherwise born into cultures we’ve deemed “inferior.”

Meanwhile, they don’t deem us inferior or superior because their mind transcends that childish comparison. But just try telling a little kid who thinks he’s an adult that he’s a little kid. He’ll throw a tantrum in protest, such is the strength of the image he has built of himself.

There is a simple way out of this field of pies. Investigators? Actively engage and include everyone. That may mean setting aside the knowledge we’ve accumulated, giving up the dominant role of the investigator, and just listening. Not foisting hypnosis on people to hear that story again, either. Just listening.

Since we don’t actually know anything about the unknown, isn’t it more honest to admit we’re all still learning?

In the classroom we are equals. We’re sharing. We’re equals. Equality is the foundation of right relationship with any being, known or unknown. Dare we become students again? Dare we speak with and not at? Dare we let go the temper tantrums and allow ourselves to be wild and alive with curiosity again?

Dare we make the leap from subculture to transculture?

If we do, perhaps we’ll throw the Trickster for a loop.