Trip To The Alien Vet

You know how we’re always looking at the content of high strangeness experiences to try to solve them? It makes sense to want to know what is going on, but more often than not we make an analogy to events in our normal everyday lives and instead of saying, “It’s like that,” we say, “It is that.”

For example, how many people have you heard sounding all smart to themselves for make the analogy between alien abductions and taking our pets to the veterinarian? These aliens treat us like we treat animals, they say, and so that must be what we are to them. Isn’t this declaration of what the unknown is and is doing really just cutting off a narrow slice of the story, making an analogy for it, and then immediately forgetting it’s just an analogy for that slice?

We want answers and we want them to make sense. This is clear. But might that be code for an even deeper unconscious motive on our part here? Might it be that forming coherent, knowable answers out of analogies is us doing anything we can to retain our outdated sense of reality in the face of great change?

Think about how we absorb new knowledge in any other context. What do we generally do with it? We bounce it off our databanks to see if we know what it is already. If we don’t, we form analogies to the nearest likeness. We judge its importance. We add it to our body of knowledge or discard it. So far this is the same as with high strangeness experiences, but here’s where paths diverge: with normal new knowledge, after hemming and hawing, we concede that we must change our perspective to meet what we’ve learned.

New knowledge–the type that changes everything in the field to which it pertains–changes us. Yet somehow, with high strangeness experiences, while experiencers may be changed, the public rarely is. Researchers rarely are. In fact, experiencers rarely are. This is because other types of knowledge may change us, grow us, have us learn and learn anew, but it is within a safe pretext–namely that we have a hold on reality and whatever we’re learning, it’s going to grow us, not shatter us. We will continue to exist as we’ve always defined ourselves and we will always be in control.

High strangeness tells us otherwise. Over and over again, otherwise. But we look at a facet of it, go, “You know, this looks a lot like that, therefore all of it is that,” and sit like dopes at conferences lapping it up. We run the program like broken robots. We refuse to be shattered because that’s crazy talk to our arrogant culture of self-worth and personal evolution.

Speaking of this looking like that, the that we were talking about in the beginning was a trip to the vet. And in a sense, although I see zero evidence that we are dealing with alien doctors, I’m not so sure what I’ve described here isn’t like the aftermath of a vet visit for scared animals. When my wife and I would bring our cats to the vet, they were scared out of their minds. They didn’t know what was going on. And after, when they came home and stepped out of their carriers onto familiar flooring, they’d confer with the other cats. They’d be sniffed by them, which told part of the story, I am sure. But the formerly terrified vet-visiting cat would inevitably tell the rest his story with great bravado. He’d walk around all puffed-chest confidence, as if telling the others what a hero he was for having survived the unknown. Cut to the next trip to the vet and he’s scared out of his mind again.

Our cats are not fundamentally changed by their trips to the vet even though in the moment (or the car ride and appointment) they are completely different cats. When they get home, that terror transforms into heroism, a story of which they are the center and in which they are brave. And then they go on being cats with zero interest in what just happened. All of their interest is in going on like nothing did.

The bridge they erect to run from terror to normalcy is their story. The difference between cats and us is that we’re married to our story. We’re in love with telling it over and over again. We don’t know that it is escapism.

Those who do come to understand that our new normal is always more of ourself are a rare breed, indeed.

Paratopia Strikes Back!

Paratopia Green LogoAt the end of last month I was supposed to send out flash drive sticks of the Paratopia archive to throngs of rabid fans. As luck would have it, the master copy coming from Jeff got lost in the mail. He sent another. It arrived. But as luck would have it, the $90 worth of USB sticks I bought from a seller on Ebay, who had a decent rating, were complete garbage. Turns out there’s a little-known thing as a flash drive scam, not to be confused with Greer’s flashlight scam. I became a statistic. And that sucks… sucks like a fox!

–Because now I’ve been forced to buy a pro account on Mediafire.com and put The Paratopia Experience there to live. Yes, that’s right, experience. Yes, that’s right, live. For now, instead of a dead archive reanimating its own corpse on a stick delivered to your door, for a mere $30 you get to stream and/or download everything from Mediafire–and I’m not trying to sell that as the better thing, no. The better thing is that I’ve got a ton of space to play with, so I thought instead of a dead archive, why not a living one? Why not update it every now and again with new content for you for free?

And then I thought, Hey! Since there are clearly people willing to shell out $30 for Paratopia–and since after years of nonexistence our Facebook page is still a lively, thriving place for new ideas–Why not extend this offer to listeners: If there’s an episode, a guest, an idea, that you heard on the show and you want to express your views, or your insights, or have questions keeping you up at night, let me know and we’ll record a chat together for the archive. Alternatively, if you’re shy, let me know and I’ll put the word out there to see if we can wrangle others to do a roundtable chat. It would be like a book club, except for a podcast. And instead of just talking to your pals, you can talk to one of the authors (or both, if Jeff’s available).

One of the things that made the podcast unique was our want to hand it over to the audience. I think that proposition might have been too intimidating at the time to all but a few. However, this is more intimate and you won’t be on your own.

Anyway, there’s that. If you’d like to be a part of The Paratopia Cult Experience, simply create a free-and-very-easy account at www.mediafire.com (I think they ask for just your name and email). Then send me your hard-earned cash and I’ll send you a link.

Get ready for hundreds of hours of the most dynamic “paranormal” talk show journey that ever was. And that’s no exaggeration.

Buy Now Button with Credit Cards

 

 

UPDATE: I wrote to the seller of the faulty USB sticks saying I know it’s past the refund date and I don’t expect one. But these sticks don’t work and since you’re a top-rated seller, I assume you don’t realize you’re selling scam sticks. Here is the reply. Faith in humanity restored….

Seller’s message:
“Truly feel that you have had problems with this set. I have also had problems with some of them at the time to try them before selling. You can return them, no matter what the time is fulfilled. Your money will be refunded in full and the cost of shipping.   I appreciate your benefit of the doubt. Having the category Top Rate Seller, my sales volume, not by accident it’s because we strive to solve problems and sell with Honesty. Now I also have to complain to the people I bought this set of memories. Let me know if you need any help on how much the shipping”

 

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On another note, writing this now and an email to someone just prior is a huge deja vu to the extent that I feel as though I know what happens next in terms of a response from the seller or maybe someone else? … Except the flash of it doesn’t actually make sense. Unless there’s, like, a parallel world where this happened and it went slightly differently in a worse way.

If any of that made sense, you’re ready for Paratopia. lol

 

What If Missing Time Is Supposed To Stay Missing?

Dimensions book coverAccording to a report in The Houston Post of April 22, 1897, one Mr. John M. Barclay had an extensive interaction with a man from an airship who didn’t give his name. “Never mind about my name, call it Smith,” he said. Mr. Barclay asked him where he was from and where he was going. Smith replied, “From anywhere, but we will be in Greece day after tomorrow.”

God I love that. It’s a bit out of Jacques Vallee’s more-relevant-than-ever Dimensions. More relevant now because it was so ahead of its time when it came out that many ignored it and few of those who didn’t knew what to make of it. Now that quantum physics has hit the mainstream and the popular culture is prying itself off of Newtonian physics, perhaps some of the ideas contained in the book will make a little more sense to a lot more people.

But that’s not why I quoted the above. I think “Smith” gave a brilliant, truthful answer. Whatever this enigmatic other is, names are irrelevant and so is location. Therefore, so is space-time. In a roundabout way it reminds me of something a disembodied female voice once interrupted a dream to tell me: “I understand hither/thither and in that understanding shall neither be swept away nor carried on the seas of time.” (Into The End readers know what fun I had with that one in the realm of fiction.)

If you need a reminder of what great theater this “alien” enigma truly is, read Dimensions. He has a piece in there about alien abductions, basically saying that if we ignore all of the pitfalls of hypnosis and take the stories given under hypnosis as accurate, we still must see them for their symbolic value, because advanced aliens would not need the crude tools they are said to use, nor would they need to do the surgical procedures they are alleged to perform. These are antiquated by our scientific standards.

Dimensions was first published in 1988. Knowing what we do now about hypnosis and about the (not to be) trusted men who used it, I wonder if he’d even allow for that premise in a 2014 edition. Has anyone ever consciously recalled the alien doctor scenario? If not, we can, as Jeff Ritzmann says, safely attribute it to cultural contamination. And really, when you look at it, the irony is… it’s too logical to fit the scenario.

Go back. Read the accounts of “alien” and “human-from-airship” interactions sans hypnosis. They’re ridiculous. It’s as if the Rorschach test is alive and a few researchers said, “I see a wolf’s head. Everybody? It’s a wolf’s head. Now we’re going to put you under hypnosis and you’re going to tell us about that wolf’s head.” Meanwhile, in reality, it’s an inkblot that can look like a wolf’s head if that’x how your brain makes sense of it.

This gets me to a point about missing time. Missing time is the thing we fill in with hypnosis, right? That’s the whole reason for the hypnosis debacle in the first place: you have a weird experience and there’s a chunk of time missing and you want to know what happened. But if the consciously-remembered events surrounding this missing time are seemingly illogical, should you recall a logical space doctor interaction during the “missing” part? Nothing in past interactions suggests this.

Perhaps Jacques was wrong about the content of missing time being symbolically relevant but right about missing time in general. Perhaps it is symbolically relevant in and of itself. Maybe nothing happens during missing time. Maybe it’s there, like everything else in high strangeness, to keep the person’s focus on it. It can be another way to make the enigma undeniably real to the experiencer.

Or maybe it runs deeper than that. Maybe it’s a message waiting to be decoded, much like that of our friend “Smith.”

What’s missing? Not just time, space-time. Not just any space-time, a person’s or a group’s personal space-time. What’s missing? The person. The observer. You’re there, not there, and then there again. Do you wink out of existence and then back? Just like the very UFO you were witnessing?

We talk about these futuristic craft sometimes winking in and out of existence and how far in advance of our technology they must be and yet running parallel to that is the fact of us sometimes winking in and out of existence during the same experience. To my knowledge, no one has ever picked up on that. It’s easy to understand why–it is far too tempting to ignore the symbolism and say that aliens are using technology to wink the experiencer in and out of existence like they do their craft. Problem is, we don’t know those are aliens, we don’t know those are craft, we don’t know if the alleged craft is even piloted, and if you were to ask a supposed alien pilot, you’d just as likely be offered a pancake as you would be asked, “What’s existence?” It’s only through hypnosis that you’d have a prayer of being given a logical (or at least straightforward) answer by busy doctors.

¿Qué?

Ironically, what’s missing in missing time is missing time. We keep filling it with answers from ourselves. And maybe we are supposed to turn inward and ask ourselves about it. Just ask, not answer. Wait for the answer to come or for the next clue to unfold. And as I wrote that, something fell off a shelf in the next room. I hadn’t planned on ending it here.

And so it goes.

Abruptly into the night.

POST SCRIPT: As poetic an ending as that is, I realize I do need to make the point. Thankfully, I wrote it succinctly on Facebook and can lazily paste it here….

As I was going to get to before I was so rudely interrupted by a crash, maybe it’s a clue that there is no technology here, or if there is it’s one that runs on holistic consciousness (for lack of a better term.) The self “disappears.”

Like the other is saying, “You don’t get it. This isn’t advanced science. You can do this, too. This is how things are.” But we miss the meaning by looking at it the wrong way–as a hole to be filled with memory.