Archived from the former firedocs blog. 12 April 2006
"There are three kinds of people in the world: those who are immovable, those who are movable, and those who move." -- Anon.
There are those who do not consciously become aware of psi in their experience. Since I believe that psi is the fundamental of our atomic existence, as well as the fundamental of a "consensus reality" being possible at all, then obviously I do not believe they lack 'psi'; that is like lacking molecules or something, it's impossible for a physical-human-in-our-perceived-biological-bandwidth. I believe they just lack awareness of it.
There are people who do become aware of it, albeit spontaneously, accidentally, in dreams, and so on. Even some psychics fall into this category, if they are the more casual, "whatever grooves through me" sort.
And there are people who proactively, consciously attempt to become more 'aware', to maintain 'awareness' and integrity down to the very thought, and in some cases, to practice Remote Viewing. Those aren't the same, of course. Some people attempt to be 'aware', and some attempt to have great 'integrity' even in thought, and some practice Remote Viewing, and those may be three different people. Or not. Most serious viewers qualify for the first and the third. Whether or not they take that farther into the middle depends on the person.
Psychic functioning prior to RV was often presented as a severely passive exercise. You got comfortable and mellowed out and asked your question and opened up to the universe and whatever went past you, that was your data.
Much of the inaccuracy in standard psychic work hasn't been only because the psychic was trying to make data A into data B, but because the psychic really WAS focusing on being "open to the universe," which is substantially larger in scope than most targets. Remote Viewing drastically improved the 'target definition' spectrum.
Psychic functioning in Remote Viewing, once Swann-derivative psi methods had been promulgated to the greater world by hill, rooftop and late-night radio, were an "active-distraction" exercise, though the details of this depended on the Acronym of the Moment and your trainer. In general, you got comfortable and followed that paint-by-number plan reallyreallyfast, in the hopes that by distracting yourself, you'd be getting yourself out of the way, so that when you were finished, what was left on paper would be dominantly accurate, this rating mostly depending on how much of you had target contact ("IN" the way) and conscious distraction ("out of the way").
This is similar to counting backward as you are inducted into hypnosis: "if my conscious mind is busy over there, my subconscious here will be free." This emphasis has been stronger in TRV training than most CRV training, I should note. Most people find this "move through it fast" approach actually does work as intended.
Given the methodology mostly instructs you to ask for info, write down every single tiny piece, move on fast and keep moving (...which I do find workable in a rather bean-counter-trained-to-be-psychic sort of way), the distraction technique goes pretty well with it.
But that whole framework is a nice analogy, as my buddy EricT once pointed out, to the "distraction vs. focus" models in personal training, like bodybuilding or top-quality sports. (This is now me explaining, but the original surface-idea came from him.)
There are people who go into the gym in their cute spandex and they get on a machine of some form and they turn up the MTV and distract themselves as much as possible while they exercise. And that works, for the average person, whose primary goal of exercise is NOT the process, feeling, or focus on the exercise, but a side effect of it, which is that it happens to contribute to looking good in spandex.
But on the other side of the spectrum are the people who do certain kinds of exercise or weight training not just as a "practice on purpose" but as a very serious "way" or "focus" or "personal exploration." And that's a whole different thing. You won't find these sorts "distracting themselves" to make time pass and avoid boredom or avoid "messing it up by paying attention." Instead, they actually focus on what they are doing. The actual process, and all the many subtle details of how they feel during that process, are very important to them.
It's not that either way is better. It's just that different people have different reasons for doing things.
The professional bodybuilder has to care about the subtle feelings in his neck when he lifts. It matters that he feels a pull slightly more on one side than another, even if it's subtle. It matters not only because his ability to adjust-within-process is affected, and not only because his process may be more in-depth than some others, but because he must treat his body as a very living, interacting-thing. It's a form of communication.
The spandex crowd doesn't care about the subtleties their body wants to communicate; they care about sweating for 20 minutes to Oprah and moving on. It was never really the focus on their body as a living part of them to interact with, as both friend and self, that mattered; it was a focus on the side-effects of exercise, like their hip size and energy level and so forth. And those are good things to care about, and they matter.
But getting to know your body in the way that a serious martial artist or bodybuilder or high-pro sports athlete does, is a completely different thing.
Remote Viewing has that kind of dynamic as well.
There are the unmovables, the seemingly non-psi sorts, who are the Les Nessman's of our consensus psychic-reality: This line I drew is a wall. Get it? It's a wall. I can't see you! You can't see me! There's an invisible WALL here!
There are the movables, the seemingly psi-by-accident types, and sometimes the psi-by-casual-allowance types. If they practice a methodology they call remote viewing, they either breeze through without any larger protocol (tasking-scopes that span a lightyear, feedback-scopes that you can fit in a thimble), or sometimes breeze through the entire process as if it's entirely literal and devoid of need for (or permission for) attention.
Then there are those who move. Controlling your remote viewing is not about some guy's doctrine or some other guy's method, although such things can be shared and may be useful. (If properly understood. Which in the case of Swann's work is in my opinion the far bigger problem: it's not that much of his stuff isn't downright brilliant or insightful, it's that a lot of people distill it into a simplistic, dualistic, stereotype-level of comprehension which sells well to the masses but is downright inane to try and apply to the complexity of this topic.)
It's also about a state of internal commitment which allows a conscious process-experiment with 'awareness' that can't really be approached without that inner anchor of acceptance. I once wrote, in Bewilderness,
All acceptance is by faith. Not blind faith as "trust," but faith as an absolute commitment, and when you make the latter, you realize it is the former.
The initial focus and quest for data, and the initial "opening up to" information, this little portion is always the feminine, is always the receptive (not-quite-'passive').
But once it flows into you, it becomes part of you. And once it's part of you, it really IS a part of YOU. And because it's part of you, it's alive. Because it's part of you, it can communicate. It's a thought-form, and when resident within you, has the motive-power that you lend it.
There is a difference between processing data in a way that attempts to conclude what it is or belongs to, which is baaaaad, and processing data that recognizes its nature and attempts to discern more about it, which is necessary if you intend to have data of real depth at some point, or any clue what the hell you're doing.
For example, some data is symbolic. When you know that, you don't write it down as a literal, and it's not an AOL, either; you go to the data on the spot and figure out what it's trying to tell you. Much data is, itself, communicative. Data may move, morph, merge and separate, and all of these things are themselves a form of data.
Data may come across in a variety of ways and that itself is a form of information, often about the data. There is even a whole genre of data that is about the session, the viewer, the process. You can 'program' in data-forms that are about the feedback, about custom process. There are no limits.
Sometimes, you have to stalk the target. You have to go out and get it. You have to follow the funky and often bizarre and surreal dance inside you to where it leads, find its home, discern its reality, and that's your data.
It's a vastly bigger world than "go real fast and write down whatever comes across until you're done." It's a completely different experience in many respects. It's the [pink spandex] version vs. the [highly attentive martial arts bodybuilder listening to subtleties of his body] version.
It's alive. It's proactive. It's dynamic. It's not passive. It may be receptive, but it's also quite active... and interactive.
Which is a whole 'nuther post. Or book. If I'd quit typing here, and start typing there!