Relationships and Attachment

Sometimes when I come out of a remote viewing session, I have a short period where anything I think about, information about it just slides through me. It's rather like a period in my past when "information channeling" seemed to be pretty natural, not that I knew much about the subject at that time. Sometimes I get information about the session or myself, because I happen to have a thought or question about something like that just at that time. Other times, there's been something on my mind, and so the information has related to that.

A few years ago I finished a session and just happened to think of several semi-related things at the same time. It had to do with my little girl and our occasional arguments, my parents and their relationship. And I got a line of information about all that.

Now this works best when you hold the initial question in your intent, and then get the hell out of the way so the information can flow. Apparently there is a reason that trance channels actually leave the body: because as I have proved, if you are unwilling to do that (because you're a paranoid control freak), you stand a good chance of completely screwing it up.

The problem is that the information itself sparks new ideas and thoughts and questions. And the instant your mind is sparked by that, or follows that, you literally change the path of information slightly--you change the question. The result is an information flow that literally shifts its focus slightly with every sentence or half-sentence, which obviously results in a far lesser product in the end.

(I have very often wondered if this is part of the problem in remote viewing, actually: that as we start getting information we often slightly shift our focus to more about the info we just got, instead of staying with the original focus of the task-intent.)

I thought I should write down somewhere the info I got that night on relationships, because I still think of it often and wonder what there might be to it. (At this point it's completely paraphrased of course, as I've no idea where the original info is.) It's made me re-evaluate the role of argument and dispute in any relationship -- with children, with lovers, with friends, with siblings or parents or coworkers. I guess I had never thought about it this way before.

***

Relationships are defined by the degree and style of 'attachment' between the individuals.

('Attachment' in the way the Eastern religions use the word: it can be positive or negative, and is defined by its divergence from 'neutrality'.)

The more intense relationships have the deepest degrees of attachment.

The dynamic of attachment creates a need for definition: we 'sum up' what we believe a person to 'be' when we love or hate them.

We are attached not so much to the person as to our definition and interpretation of that person.

For the definition to change more than slightly, we must 'let go' of our attachment enough for that shift to take place in our interpretation.

Imagine holding someone very tight in your arms. When they grow and change and that is no longer comfortable, you have to let go briefly, so they can find a new, more appropriate and comfortable position for both of you, before you re-connect.

The newer an intense relationship, sometimes the more need there is for this process, because the initial definitions that were part of the attachments are incomplete. As the individuals know each other better, 'adjustment' may be needed less frequently.

This adjustment must be done or eventually the individuals will realize they don't know each other anymore: they have both changed beyond the ability of an 'adjustment'. They will either dissolve the relationship, stay strangers, or start the process of forming attachment over again.

In human relationships, the adjustment happens via emotion, usually anger. Separating a person from their attachment to another even for an instant is not easy, and it has to come from within that individual. The subconscious takes steps to bring about the emotional situation where this can happen.

Anger itself is a pushing-away emotion. It often comes with a releasing emotion (such as "forget you!"), or sometimes with a re-evaluation emotion ("maybe I really don't know him at all"), as well as the anger itself.

These moments (the more intense, the moreso) allow a lessening of attachment for a moment -- a minute, an hour, a day, whatever is necessary -- enough that the individuals can both be more fully themselves, and will be forced, if they wish to fully re-attach, to accept and allow the current energy-shape of the other person to be their new subconscious definition.

The stronger the attachment, the more intense the emotion necessary to separate sufficiently to allow adjustment (and the stronger they are likely to re-bond when that is past). This is why new young lovers often love and hate with equal ferocity, while a couple married 50 years may merely spend an afternoon irritated. Over time, attachment (if healthy) relaxes in relationships, allowing more natural growth and change in both individuals without stress to the bond.

***

Well, that was all. But now when I fight with someone I love, I figure maybe it's a needed event, and that we'll be stronger after that. Maybe the incredibly moronic things we sometimes fight about, are just the subconscious's way of getting us to that emotional place we need to visit to allow the shift.

I always thought that a person wasn't really a proven friend until you'd had a couple really gnarly arguments with them and gotten through that. There are several famous sayings about that 'proving ground' for true friendship. Maybe that's partly because two people can never wholly know each other at first attachment--and that if there were not those adjustment points, it would be a sign that there was not much attachment to begin with.

PJ

Life vs. Life

This is an "experience" I had back in... I think the early 1990s. I'm not sure, now that I think about it, much of that era blurs for me. A vision? Waking dream? Alternate reality experience? Who knows. I don't think I've written it down anywhere, but it really moved me and made me think deeply about a few things, so having recalled it the other day when talking to a friend, it occurred to me that I ought to blog about it.

I'd been playing guitar with a guy named Tom Connell some time before. Highly intelligent, very talented, good looking guy and a helluva guitarist, he intrigued me. His brother Chris had been my best buddy for quite some time when we met. I paid him to give me lessons, of a sort; I'd never had any, which he found hard to believe. He taught me to play "Stormy Monday" which I considered worth all the cash combined, though I don't even remember it now.

What I do remember is that after a life of being damnably influenced by the music I loved, trying desperately not to write songs that sounded like clones (no jokes about my 200 songs in A-minor, now...), one night I set out to deliberately, for the first time in my life, deliberately write a song to sound like another. I made a list of rules: it had to have these jazz chords, this kind of timing, and so on. I'd never written anything with any 'rules' in place, and it was actually very cool. (That one was called "Count to Ten and Leave You." I imagined it being done on an acoustic guitar, sung by some appropriately black-soul-brother-of-blues, of course.) It came out different yet groovy, rather like writing exercises that are 'structured' sometimes do.

The funny part was, it sounded NOTHING like Stormy Monday, and in fact it would be difficult to sound any more UNlike the song if I'd tried. (Tom laughed like crazy.) So ironic, all things considered.

Anyway, one day when I hadn't seen him in quite some time, for some reason I was fairly deep in thought about him. He was the epitome of passive-aggressive: both he and his brother got a good dose of it (thanks Mom). He'd been Valedictorian of his high school, for godssakes. He could have done ANYTHING with his life. At that moment he could have been a CEO, a creative architect, a professor, a scientist, anything. The guy was brilliant, with more potential than 98% of the population.

Instead, he packed up his guitar and left Phoenix for California... to play guitar. He didn't want to be all those things; he wanted to play rock & roll.

So years later, there he was. A couple kids, a long-suffering, beautiful wife, a fantastic skill at guitar, yet-another band, and... and not much else. He wanted to play guitar, not work nine to five. He made very little money at his music-store day job, played whenever he could for money, and in a way, to me he summed up what I'd watched go past me my whole life: the faded fringes of the music industry.

I grew up on the fringes. Dad managed the biggest instrument store in the county most of my life, and played (guitar, steel and vocals) professionally since before I was born. There was a constant parade of excited musicians and new recording contracts and people hoping for that big break and, as any real musician knows, a whole world full of people with more skill than nearly anybody you'll ever hear on the radio, who can't get arrested let alone make much money to play.

And it's a long road, and a weary one, and you'd better be in it for the love of music because most the time all it does is rob your wallet, your years and your optimism and leave you wondering, what the hell would I have done with my life, if I'd known this outcome?

(Which reminds me, I wrote a song called "L.A. Stone" about this idea and him, much later.)

Well I was thinking about him a lot one day. I had quit going to see him some time before. I really liked him a lot, but I started to feel like I had to pay him to associate with me. It sorta hurt my feelings, but he hadn't done anything to make that happen, he'd been nothing but great to me. I just didn't want to be his fan or his student only, but his friend. There wasn't really the situation for that, is all.

I loved his brother deeply, far too much for decency given we were only friends frankly, so I gave him some slack just by virtue of being related to my best friend. But I was sad that on some level, he felt untouchable to me. He was a nice guy, a super smart and talented guy, loved his wife and kids, but you could almost feel the 'wall of reserve' around him, that invisible psychic buffer zone that P/As carry with them always. So I'd wandered off, and not seen him in some time.

I wondered why life turns out the way it does. I wondered if it was a bad thing that he'd given up college and a whole lifestyle to instead go play guitar and not really go anywhere with it. I wondered if that qualified as throwing his life away, or if maybe there was some other obscure reason why in the end, it might all be for the best. I couldn't really think of one frankly. But I mused on this off and on all day one day.

And then that night while sitting quietly, I fell into one of the odd "linear, interactive visions" that I had more commonly in those days than now.

It was another world, another life, a not-quite-parallel universe, you might say.

***

I was sitting on the perfect lawn, picking the grass that intruded on the edges of the marble gravestone set flush into the ground. I sat here every day, afternoons after school. I tried to cry sometimes, but usually couldn't... not really. I just felt empty, passively angry and more than a little numb.

I felt like everything in my world that made sense had departed when dad died. My life of optimistic faith in how everything would be alright, was as inaccessible as my father, six feet under where I sat. There was no sense to it, no reason. He was just gone, dead for over a year, and I felt like my life, my mom's life, my brother's life, had meandered over to a depressing, dismal shade of purgatory.

Mom, who'd been such a cheerful part-time nurse's aid when dad was alive, had gained too much weight. She was chronically exhausted, and looked so unhappy. The lines on her face and her look of bone-weariness and lonely resignation broke my heart anew every day.

And my brother, the sports hero, the good-grades good-boy I couldn't begin to compete with, yet worshipped my whole life, had changed, first a little and then gradually far moreso. Eventually his grades had fallen, he'd quit the teams, and he'd taken up guitar and started hanging out with a different kind of people. Now instead of his handsome face in neatly cut hair and letterman's sweater, he had long shaggy hair and a black rock & roll t-shirt most the time. He was still smart, with his bright eyes and pirate's smile, but now he was droll, sarcastic and even biting. His songwriting reflected the deep turmoil inside him.

We had no money now. Mom worked way too much and we were still poor. Our yard was overgrown. Our screen door was hanging by a single hinge and banged against the door in wind. Weeds grew up the edges of the porch steps. Our house, like our clothing, like our lives and our hopes, was wearing out, too demoralized by the gaping hole in our middles to even pretend to be cheerful. Dad was the center of everything. I don't think we'd ever realized this until suddenly he was dead, and there we were. Zombies in hell, pretending that life wasn't irreparable, that it would be better someday.

I thought about the day before. I'd gone to see my brother, who worked at a small hardware store. There was a round low counter, and he'd been joking with some customers when I came in. I watched him there, his wicked white smile, his eyes of pain and light, his grungy concert shirt, his "intensity", and I felt such love for him, and yet such grief. Dad's death had destroyed us, I felt. My brother was the shining one. I would have given my own life to see him truly happy, my hero since I was four years old. But he wasn't, he was filled with that pain, that rage, that "inner-driven" quality he'd taken on since dad's death, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Nothing. I could do nothing.

Somehow, after months off and on of visiting the graveyard on the way home from school every day, for the first time I actually had the sense of my father's presence. It shook me a little, and moved me.

I whispered out loud: "Daddy."

And that was it: it all broke through, and I started crying, bawling with such long deep sobs it was like dredging the pain up from the cosmic depths of soul. I yelled at him. "Why did you leave us? Our lives SUCK without you!" I screamed in rage, pounding my fists on the grass. I finally found myself lying on my face on the headstone, crying with such body-shaking grief that eventually I couldn't breathe.

I finally relaxed into occasional sobs and long sighs. I rested my head on one arm, and idly bent the blades of grass nearest my eyes, thoughtless and exhausted, yet somehow freed from the inability to grieve I'd had for so long.

It was a gradual realization, so subtle, that someone's hand was on my shoulder. I sat up, and turned toward that, and my hands fell uselessly to my sides as I stared at him, wordless. My father sat next to me, his hand on my shoulder, looking so much like... well, like himself, that it was all I could do not to start crying again. I wondered if he was real. Maybe I was hallucinating.

"Are you real?" I whispered.

"For a little while," he whispered back with a smile.

"Why did you leave?" I demanded.

"It was the way it is," he said, as if that made sense.

"Everything is so BAD now!" I accused him, starting to sob again.

"Things are as they should be," he said gently.

I stared at him, in surprise and anger.

"How can you SAY that?!" I demanded. "Why? WHY?"

He watched me watch him, as I cried silently but copiously, barely seeing his blurring image through my tears. And then he said softly, "Do you really want to know why?"

I nodded silently yes.

He stood up, and held out his hand, and I took it and stood, and we began to walk. Toward home, which was a block away and around the corner. I didn't know what he meant, but I wanted my mom and brother to see him. I wanted him to tell all of us that it was alright. Even though it couldn't possibly be.

We turned the corner and I stared quietly at the house as we approached it. It had been freshly painted. The weeds around the steps were gone. The lawn was lovely. The screen was fixed. It looked rather like it had before dad had died, in fact. I stared at him curiously but silently. Had he magically made everything alright? I thought I was bringing home a rather solid ghost, but how could that change my house?

We went up the stairs and into the house. It was different inside, too. Things were nicer. It was cleaner. And it just... felt better, somehow. It felt like a house where normal people live. Not like a mausoleum.

Mom came bustling out of the back room. She was supposed to be at work. But she was home--and she was thin again. Her face looked years younger, and I hadn't seen her look that rested and happy since--well, since before dad had died. I stared at her open-mouthed, my heart feeling an actual pain, like seeing her how she had been, so happy, so loving, was killing me.

They kissed and talked of trivial things as he followed her into the kitchen. I watched them go, falling into an armchair feeling like things were a bit surreal, and it beginning to dawn on me that for mom, obviously, he had never left.

Maybe I had cried myself to death and this was my heaven: a world where mom was healthy and happy and dad was still alive.

Something felt wrong, though. Not like a bad thing, just like... something out of place. Something was missing from mom. I wasn't sure what.

I heard the slam of a door on a truck, and through the window I watched my brother walk around to the other side of a beautiful black pickup. He looked like I dreamed he would, if things had gone on as they had been instead of our father dying. He opened the door and a girl climbed out, a lovely girl I didn't know but who seemed to be his girlfriend.

They came into the house, dad and mom coming out of the kitchen at the same time. As they used to do, he and dad touched fists and then shook hands in a street handshake and a loving exchanged smile. That was before my brother became a rebel angry at the world. I watched him, feeling like I was in a little bit of shock. He had on nice clothes, and a sweater tied around his shoulders. He looked like a member of the yacht club now, with his clean-cut hair and macho grace.

He and dad stood and talked about his truck, and I watched him. He looked happier, for certain. Content. His face was much fuller, softer, and he had that comfortable ease with the world he used to have. The ease of a boy with paid college, a truck and a girlfriend and Friday night football... not that thinner young man of angry rebel-rock screamed in grungy little clubs and garages and basements.

I tuned into their conversation again, realizing he was in college now, not working the hardware store. Wow was his life different. Mom came back into the room and hugged him, and he talked about his girlfriend and their engagement. He grinned at me and I smiled back, feeling a little bewildered still.

It dawned on me slowly, but deeply.

He was happier, but it wasn't him.
Mom was happier, but it wasn't her.

It wasn't just that their quiet desperation, their grief and loneliness, had vanished. It was that they had never been. And they were both... less deep, as a result. Less... intense, for sure, in my brother's case, but I suspected in both. It was as if they'd been "simplified" somehow.

As if pain had made them both more alive.

Had forced them to 'feel' in ways they never had.

And in some respects, had made them more of the human beings that they had the potential to be, than they would have been, could have been, with dad there.

They might not be happier or healthier. The things we normally consider important, those were definitely worse without him. But some ineffable quality, some "spark of spirit", some survival-skill inspired, pain-generated lighthouse of inner life had never been forced to grow in them.

And their souls were less for it. I could see it. I could feel it. That was the sense of wrongness. It was a sort of . . . "development" that they'd been deprived of. My brother and his girlfriend said goodbye and left, and mom kissed dad goodbye as she went off somewhere as well, and dad and I were left alone in the house.

He knelt in front of the chair I sat in, and looked at me with compassion. I had a couple of slow tears on my face. I understood, but almost wished I didn't. I accepted his death now, for the first time, although I kind of hated that I did. I wondered if there was some equivalent in me, that I couldn't see. Something that the void of him in my life had forced me to reach down into and pull out of my soul for survival.

He held out his hand, and I took it and stood, and we walked, hand in hand. Down the porch stairs, across the nice lawn, around the corner. Down the block, and into the small graveyard that I had visited too many times to count since his death. We walked slowly to his grave, and stood next to it, looking down at it, his hand holding mine.

I looked up at him beside me, my tears gone. I felt ok now. Although I felt a new kind of grief I didn't fully understand, the keen sharp edge on the old grief was dull now, and it felt like something known for too long, something I could live with. I gazed at him with gratitude, and understanding, and the odd feeling that in that moment we were more equals-in-soul than we had ever been.

And he leaned down and tenderly kissed my forehead, and turned away, and faded in a few steps to gone.

I stood there for awhile, just looking down at the stone with his name. Then I slowly turned, and in the waning light toward dusk, I walked home alone.

I rounded the corner and eyed the weeds growing over the edge of our porch steps. The shabby paint on the railings of the porch. The listlessly hanging screen door. This was my life now, I realized. Not just a life missing dad, but a life that was mine to do with, to be with, to feel with. In its own way, every experience opens doorways to parts of ourselves we have never known, parts we choose to know, no matter how the surface of that decision is hard to understand.

I climbed the stairs, thinking. I should fix that screen for mom.


***


When I came out of that vision, or unusually-linear-dream-while-awake, whatever it was, I felt as if my day of thoughtfulness had basically been answered. I call it a "sit-in", when it seems I am part of someone else's life for awhile. Some other aspect of me, who knows. I had wondered, genuinely. I'd been answered.

We are who we choose to be. Our experiences help shape who we need to be. The shallow surface measures of beauty, money, and a life of ease, have nothing to do with the needs of our soul.

Tom, like my brother, needed his guitar.



PJ

The Third Coming

The other night (morning, actually), I was dreaming.

Upon a really tall hill, stood this big structure. Sort of a house, in a way. I went to the structure and found it had three stories to it. I went to the third story and found that it was open inside and had three stories within itself, as well. I went to the third story of the third story and walked around.

There were people there, some seemed oblivious to everything, others seemed to know each other. The moment I arrived, though, I understood that I was one of four who had come to meet in this place. The odd thing is that it wasn't my normal "Four elementals of soul" symbology -- if it was, they were all certainly very different than I normally perceive them. Or perhaps this was 'grafted on'. Who knows.

There was a man, who was very quiet. Not quite sullen, but the kind of quiet that is not really peaceful and you'd be reluctant to disturb. He was in his 40s or 50s I guessed, and wearing a suit. The sort of man who seems always uncomfortable in his clothes. I understood that he was ridiculously, almost monstrously, psychic, and that was his 'role' almost like an unspoken job in our world.

There was a woman, who looked like someone's grandmother. In her late 50s or early 60s I guessed, she was just a few pounds overweight and wearing a flowered dress with a kind face. She looked like she ought to be making cookies for someone in the south. But she was also incredibly powerful, psychically, the reason she was part of the four.

My friend J was there as well. But he was only half there; his attention was split. We "all understood" that this was necessary, because his other half was off negotiating with the leader of some arabic country in an attempt to keep the peace for another few minutes. He is certainly pretty powerfully psychic, and he was of the four.

And then there was me. I wondered what I was doing there. It felt appropriate that I was one of the four and yet, it was really obvious why THEY were there and meeting; and yet who the hell am I, I'm just restarting viewing after eons out, I'm a psychic brick, I'd be lucky to view my way to my own front door with my eyes open, it's pitiful how painful it is when I restart after a long time away from it. I decided with some depressive cynicism that maybe I really didn't need to be in on this group meeting all things considered, and I wandered down to the second floor and was walking around looking at things and talking to people.

Then the woman thought at me that I was to come back up to the third story of the third story where they were, with a bit of a tone in her thought as if I were a rather wandering-attention child or something; I knew why we were there, and where I was supposed to be, so why was I wandering all over the place?

I returned to that level, going near her, but pointed out, well I don't see why you need me here. You guys are the cornerstone monster psychics of my country or world apparently, but I'm obviously not.

And she says/thinks, with this sort of ... not patronizing in a bad way, but in an observant and weary way, "Well yes, we understand that you continue to deny and avoid this, but we trust that eventually you will take responsibility for yourself and accept that." It came with the overlay of 'destiny'. Her tone of thought was almost like a disapproving grandmother. Not angry, not really judgemental, but not willing to pretend, because you clearly aren't living up to her expectations, either.

Then we all sort of merged psychically so our thoughts were shared.

There were two important things we had to meet about. One I cannot recall. In my memory I could swear it was about a movie, or some kind of video, which had information which 'gave something away' to the public in such a way that it literally changed the dominant consciousness of enough population to affect "probability" fairly radically. Alas I don't remember more than that.

The other was about a man. Now, the man in the suit had found him first; the woman had found him second; but they'd both done so independently. The man in the suit had actually figured out his name, though he didn't share it. We all four considered the situation.

The man was a messiah. Basically a 'larger, more intense dose of god within a human body' is about the only way I can put it. And he was... coming. I couldn't tell if he had already been born or if he was just coming soon, but it was "soon" either way, whatever his status or age might be.

His presence was going to cause a highly significant change in the population's awareness, which affected future probability significantly. It was like a wildcard, as futurology calls them. We were looking at a possibly profound shift in our people, nation, and world, as a result of this man's presence.

I had a sort of overlay of Jesus, but not from the others, just from my own association with the concept of a messiah. It wasn't like it was the same person. But it was, actually, like much of the same energy flowing through a different person, so in a way, it was the same. I understood that in terms of a highly specific individual whose presence here (directly or indirectly) could change the course of history, it was his third coming to our place. It had been a long time since the last time and longer still since the first.

And then my alarm went off and woke me up. I felt like I had to drag myself out from under the sea to get to it.

PJ

Abramelin and Remote Viewing

I once met an Abramelin entity. I told him the story of the Flatlanders. I assumed that entities like him were just too multidimensional for us to understand or something, and I was explaining how this story had given us that concept.

He said that wasn't so. And he showed me how finding him was actually a super thin, super specific layer of reality, or frequency. I could not possibly find it with my conscious intent because my intent was too clumsy -- like trying to use your eyes to see molecules. Your eyes work fine, and molecules are visible, but that doesn't mean that the tool is appropriate to the focus. My conscious intent included some degree of thinking I had a clue, just because I had a desire, and it skewed the search into looking for things I knew, I related to, that made even subconscious sense to me.

I had to set my intent to find him, but then LET GO, and let the parts of me much better at this kind of thing work out the exact address. Once I was there and it started coming into focus, then I could pick up control again, and use my intent to explore.

At the time it totally reminded me of those Magic-Eye (3D) pictures, as that was the same dynamic: I had to pick a focus and the intent, and then "let go" and let my brain work out the detail--not my eyes--and once the brain had worked it out and it started coming decently into focus for my eyes, then I could put my eyes back in charge again of the focus.

I was recently rereading Bewilderness (as I reformatted it for the modern world), and it reminded me of this guy and what he was trying to teach me, about "Will" being a root-layer of intent but separable from the rest of intent (specifically separable from 'conscious trying').

Showing me how I had many "layers" of intent, and didn't have to use them all as one big club, but could separate layers of intent for more precise work--and for getting conscious intent out of the way in situations where it wasn't equipped for the job, because it simply didn't have the finesse or knowledge needed.

Like archeology. Sometimes you need a backhoe... but sometimes you just need a tiny little brush.

I had never before connected this to remote viewing until last night. In RV we have the same basic structure or challenge as finding something invisible:

1 - An arbitrarily created 'target' identity;

2 - A need to move our awareness to it, or it to us, or 'find it within us', or whatever the viewer's personal model of how this works;

3 - A conscious intent that doesn't know what that identity is (let alone where/how to find it).

Except unlike the Abramelin entity's demonstration for me, and unlike the magic-eye pictures, in RV we don't quite do it this way. We assume from the get-go that our conscious intent to describe 'the' target, whatever it might be, is what we need, and that's the habit.

So for those sessions that turn out not to relate to the target, we say, "Apparently the intent wasn't strong enough." Or something.

This reminds me of a charismatic church I went to when I was young. No matter how sincere you were, if you were not speaking in tongues, then you had not given yourself to Jesus ENOUGH, you were holding back! If you weren't holding back, you'd be babbling like the rest of them! And everybody accepted this because there was no known answer for why some people, some of the time, "spoke in tongues," and some people didn't very often, and/or didn't always. You can bet a lot of people faked it lest it look like they were not truly devoted.

I never faked it. I said, "It's just not happening for me Reverend." Everybody looked at me in such sympathy. Such resistance to the love of Jesus! Poor young girl.

(It's really a miracle I learned to appreciate the godform of Jesus despite religion.)

But remote viewing has about the same level of logic going for it on this topic: you didn't connect with the appropriate target? You had a good session on the wrong thing? Your target "acquisition" was off? File 13. It happens to everyone. Everybody knows. Apparently your intent was not strong enough.

OR SOMETHING.

Is there some different means of focus that would change anything?

PJ

Target Acquisition Errors

Aside from the million things we screw up in any given session--those are things that experience teaches, so they don't phase me--what is the biggest problem in remote viewing, the thing that makes it the most exasperating, the thing that makes evaluation the most difficult even with solid controls, the thing that makes it most inconsistent?

Incorrect target acquisition. Or, to put it another way: it appears that sometimes, we knock on the wrong door. And we have an entire conversation with the 'identity' there, and it's a good conversation, and we feel ok about it, until feedback when we realize that the target identity we were communing with has approximately zero relationship to the intended target identity. And since we never know physically exactly *what* target-identity we were talking to, we have no feedback for the experience.

Now some would argue that it simply "wasn't psychic" because it was "totally off-target". I disagree. I think it doesn't have feedback so we cannot validate whether or not it's psychic, that much is true, of course. But I think given the feeling of the overall session can be compared to a lot of other experience--and 'no decent psychic connection' is a known experience, and something wholly different than what I'm talking about--I believe in those cases, the viewer still had a session, met a target, collected data, etc. It's simply that unfortunately, the 'identity' of the target they met was incorrect. They got the street address wrong in the matrix or whatever the hell it might be, who knows.

It's easy to admit that it's wrong--that part isn't in question. The debate is whether or not this is an issue of "not being remotely psychic," vs. "being at least potentially psychic, but apparently about the totally wrong thing."

Some people think this doesn't matter. That the only thing that matters is that it was wrong. Yet I consider this issue one of the biggest issues in viewing. Of course it matters, if you are expecting practice and feedback to actually do you some good.

But other issues, all of them are usually process or interference issues, and can be learned from with feedback, like any other sport of a sort. But simply being 'off target' after a whole session that seemed just fine, and did not seem to have any intent or process difference from any other on-target session, there is nothing that we learn from that.

Except not to trust ourselves, except that psi is whimsical enough to make us want to kill it sometimes, except that our actual feelings and perceptions are unreliable. In short, it does all the harm of a form of negative feedback, but none of the good that feedback can if it shows you how you were inaccurate, which leads at least sometimes to understanding why. It's just a bad experience, period.

If you judged most sessions by criteria as harsh as the science lab might, a ton of sessions that viewers consider on-target but poor or even average would probably be considered not on target, simply because they either didn't have enough data to demonstrate that, or had too much data that was inaccurate. The english language, and the relatively small number of unique "forms and dynamics" in our reality, not to mention the issues of symbolism and analogy, mean that it's actually quite an accomplishment to write out say, 20 lines of data, and not be able to find something that can conceivably be considered a match to target -- even if we cycled through ten feedback photos, none of which were the actual target. (Don't even start me on 32 page sessions...) I think the problem is a bigger problem than laymen realize because I suspect that laymen greatly underestimate how often it happens with them due to this.

Even in the lab, there were two numbers that people like McMoneagle used to quote: the percentage of the time they were on-target, and then when they were on target, the percentage of data that was likely to be accurate. The issue with contacting the 'proper' target has always been an issue.

Psychic work camouflaged this throughout history, because the psychics knew the target, and so you never really had a chance to see them 'completely off target', because they either knew enough about it, or had enough exposure to people or environmental information, that they would always describe something that sounded like it could be accurate; whether any of the details really are, is another story.

Remote Viewing solved this problem with the doubleblind. If the target is a goldfish pond and the viewer describes a man, they are off-target. If the target is a child's bedroom and they describe a nuclear reactor, they're off target. If the target is a deer and they describe something in space, they're off target. Remote viewing gave us the chance to prevent the pollution of front-loading and other non-psi sources of info, so we could truly see what a person was connected with psychically. And what we see, not surprisingly, is that people aren't nearly as accurately-connected to the universe around them as many assume. This is part of why a lot of people really hate the double-blind, not surprisingly, and will argue extensively and creatively for why it really doesn't matter. It matters. If they were better, they wouldn't have a problem with it.

But what we also see is that somewhere in the "making that appropriate connection" part of the process, there's often a problem--one we are not doing anything to consider or work on, because we haven't any idea how, so everybody acts like the problem doesn't exist (or "doesn't exist for me, because I am super-viewer, ta-da!"). Instead we obsess on AOL, Stage 5 tools and how accurate-yet-succinct we can be (please god) in a session; those things, we can do something about. Having a perfectly good session that turns out to be on the perfectly wrong target, nobody's got any answer for.

In modern RV, the benefit of the doubleblind mostly comes in for the evaluation aspect; frontloading prevents the lack of target contact from being so obvious. I think there may be a good use for frontloaded-evaluation of existing sessions, or even MILDLY frontloading a second session (the first being truly doubleblind, and only IF the first one appears to at least be in the target genre), but the initial "clean contact having to prove itself" is something unique to RV and the best thing going for its accuracy in implementation. As psychics, viewers aren't any more or less accurate than psychics throughout time, they're simply working in an improved model that maximizes the ability to see when target contact is off, by minimizing the ability to get or skew information based on non-psi sources. (Of course, this doesn't stop viewers from wanting to revert RV to the muck it was dragged out of in a couple dozen different ways, but that's another topic.)

Now the science lab with RV wanted the best viewers. If you weren't testably, provably good, you were out. A teeeeeeeny number of people worked 'long term' (as opposed to occasionally or for a couple studies, some of which might have dealt with skill in the average person) as a result. Now with McMoneagle the general gist of it --to me anyway-- often ended up sounding like, "Ok, well it works for him X% of the time, but almost nobody else truly is talented like that, so give up, take your ball and go home." (My response to this impression the first time I got it is unprintable, lest the search engines avoid me ever-after.)

But essentially what the lab did by accident or design was filter down to the incredibly few humans who had the greatest percentage of correct-target-acquisition. That does not mean they were the best or most amazing psychics, that should be understood: consistency means a great deal more than star-power when it comes to labwork. So when you consider that target-acquisition wasn't even great for them (ranging from 50-80+%, although the measure in a layman or application settings would be higher than the measure in the lab), it brings home how big an issue it probably is for the rest of the world.

But because nobody knew how to deal with that, they simply worked to get people who had the least issue with it. And because their viewers had the least issue with it, they either didn't bother studying it, or haven't told us about it if so, or didn't figure out how to touch it. So the primary problem in psi, that we had from the dawn of time, but with the advent of a decent RV protocol we could finally see clearly, still hasn't been touched, improved on, or better understood.

Worse, this is the one factor that the scientists say doesn't change--ever. That viewers may get better based on practice, when they "are" on-target, but as far as their % of accurate target acquisition (to begin with) goes, it is 10, 20, 30 years later the same as when they walk in the door, as if it's something set in genetic-stone.

In the science psi world they've accepted that only a tiny fraction -- half of one percent, maybe -- of people are decently talented for lab work, and of those, that their ability for accurate target acquisition, totally aside from other viewing-related skills, never improves.

This is true based on their data.

It offends me greatly anyway.

To me, this is like people who go on diets, and after a few pounds don't lose weight, and continue dieting, and they still don't lose weight, and they call it a 'stall'. You go to the bodybuilding world and you don't see people having nine month 'stalls', because nobody in that world would put up with such a thing: if what they were doing wasn't working, they would have done something else long prior. You go to weight watchers meetings where people have been in the group 20 years and they are still fat but they continue to have hope that doing the same thing they've been doing for 20 years is magically going to work now. (Einstein once said doing the same thing and expecting a different result was the definition of insanity.) And when it clearly is not working to any degree, whether because their body isn't responding or because nutritionally their body is incapable of staying on that eating plan, they accept that as if it is a tragic fate, and generally, nothing changes. Except sometimes they give up.

It's like a cult mentality -- you see it in dieting, you see it in religion, you see it in all kinds of things where there is any kind of doctrine that has to be defended even when quite obviously it is at best insufficient for consistent results and at worst an abysmal failure.

Remote Viewing has a little of that too, even in the most legitimate corners. I don't personally find it acceptable that we have no idea what causes inaccurate target acquisition, and no idea how to improve that. And I don't find it reasonable that the assumed explanation for this is that you don't love jesus enough you didn't focus well enough.

There are a ton of problems that can and do happen in RV. Issues with focus, assumption, imagination, and other kinds of AOL are common, but you can SEE those when you evaluate your results. This issue--this target acquisition issue--you can't see at all.

And since people like McMoneagle say "intent" is what it's all about, I'm a little torn: on one hand, he's the boss so to speak, I take his comments on RV very seriously. On the other hand, if even he hasn't improved his 'target acquisition'% in 30 years, then he's no help at all on that particular subject--nobody is.

Aside from process issues, there are 'interference' issues. Sometimes you just can't seem to make contact, you wander, you stare at the paper, whatever, there are other problems that can arise. But all of these are recognizeable when they occur. If that's an issue, you can view later, you can make up exercises to make it intense but brief or different in some way. If process issues come up, you can deal with them as a learning process. But process issues, and interference issues, can be perceived, and as a viewer gets more experience, dealt with more adequately. Target acquisition issues are really a different kind of problem.

First, you spend all this time on a session and the whole thing is considered trash. This is hardly improved by feedback which tells you that. You may have spent the entire session being adequately psychic and well-behaved in process, only to have all of it invalidated as not-counting, despite that aside from the initial acquisition aspect, the rest of the session might have gone very well, you'll never know.

It's demoralizing. I've been fortunate that it doesn't seem as common with me as with others I see, but it still happens to me too sometimes, and it pisses me off in a big way. Viewers don't talk about this much, I assume because everyone wants to be considered good at it. I consider it the RV-family dysfunction, like that Issue Nobody Talks About (the elephant the mother in the AA commercial is vaccuuming around).

Second, it's not uncommon for RV applications groups to pretty quickly get into the mode of wanting to pour in all kinds of non-psi info to the process, particularly frontloading. This annihilates the ability to clearly perceive when a viewer is offtarget; thanks to frontloading, every perception they get is going to be brought through a model that will make it seem like it could be so, and we're back to where we were with psychics before RV came along and the doubleblind gave us the first means to half-way evaluate at least whether someone was truly 'in touch' with the intended target or not. At least with RV, historically the project manager had the option to exclude 'obviously off target' sessions, or retask for a different session. Killing the protocol just means you have to take everything because now everything looks equal on the surface.

In the layman's world, there's so much creatively positive evaluation of sessions (particularly long ones which have SO much data they hit nearly every possible target along the way), that I think a lot of viewers only notice totally off-target sessions maybe 20% of the time it actually happens. But I have yet to meet anybody who's never had it happen.

And I have yet to meet anybody who has the slightest idea what to do about it. They focus. They intend. They practice harder, or more, or longer, or less, or change methods... it still happens sometimes. Nobody knows why.

Thus far, everybody has apparently been content to accept the hopelessness of built-in target-acquisition frequency limits.

I'm not. I don't know that I can do anything about it, but there has got to be something we're missing about this process.

Once target contact is made, viewing is not rocket science. Most anybody can do it. Practice obviously makes a difference. Clear thinking and communication skills probably matter more than excessive amounts of psi 'talent'; a little, once you have target acquisition, is enough.

So to me, everything comes down to target acquisition. In the lab they just hire people already good at it. In my world, I'd like to know how to make anybody better at it.

So far, most of what RV has brought to the table toward improving this issue is: "Describe the target." Wait, there's also the previous one: "Here's a number that has no relation to anything but which I meditated on related to the target. Use this to focus and describe the target."

Hmmnn. Not exactly a leap forward on the scale of development, is it.

I see approximately no evidence of any serious efforts toward improving the accuracy or the clarity of initial target acquisition. I'm sure there have been some, somewhere, by someone, but it isn't visible or known to me (I'm glad for refs if anyone has them).

Is there something we are missing about "intent?"

Is our use of "conscious intent" only partly-workable because that isn't the ideal way to go about it? What other options are there?

Are there psychological, or spiritual, or physical exercises that would contribute to improving this situation, reducing the inaccuracy in acquisition issue?

What is the point of trying so hard in all the process areas, if one of the most important facets of overall accuracy--initial target acquisition--is insufficient yet completely ignored?

PJ

Thoughtforms, Geometry and Abstract Identities

This is the third and last post on the concept of identity, which is just the first part of the equation I'm trying to hash out in my head for a larger question.

One of the most interesting things about metaphysics is the bizarre stuff that makes total sense inside you but sounds bewildering to anybody you try and explain it to. Either people have such an experience themselves, and they know what you mean, or they haven't, so there's no way they can.

Thoughts are things, as Edgar Cayce is quoted as saying. I agree. But in the case of deliberately generated thoughtforms, they are powerful things.

In the east, a thoughtform of a creature of any kind (including a human) would be called a Tulpa. I'm not sure if they have a different word for thoughtforms that are not seemingly autonomous entities (such as inanimate objects). I read a neat book on it once. The creation of this sort of thing is a whole magical art unto itself.

Some would suggest that simply altering belief systems and probability to bring what you need into your life, is probably easier than creating it from scratch. This is probably true. But there's always those people who will build their furniture rather than buy it, so I suppose it's the same sort of thing in a way.

Fictional characters in a story are thoughtforms. I believe that the more people who read a given book, and the more energy, interest, emotion they put into that character in various ways, the stronger the thoughtform. James Bond and Harry Potter have become literal archetypes in our culture, as an example.

Religious icons, from Mary to Mithras, no matter what they might have been at any point in the past, have had so much energy-attention poured into them that they have become autonomous thoughtform Tulpas on a nearly god-like level, at least compared to us. So the thoughtforms range from the wispy creations of an unpublished fiction writer, to unimaginably powerful creations that, like humans but even moreso, grow into their own sense of identity and autonomy eventually.

It's not just characters, though. I consider everything inanimate a thoughtform--it's merely that some things have more "representational energy within the bandwidth I call physical reality" than others.

If I take out my tools and I cut and plane wood, router it, put it together into a chair, sand it, paint it, and then use it, in my view that chair is a thoughtform. My "representational magic" just happened to be quite literal in this case. (A voodoo doll, by comparative example, is representational magic, but indirect.) But its envisioning, and its creation, and its perfection, and then its utilization, are all something that I arranged.

The same goes for everything, even if it's a television with two thousand tiny parts made in an automated lab in Taiwan. Still, someone had to plan--(humans playing nature-deva)--every tiny piece, and the arrangement, and the function, and everything that went into making it, and everything from the raw materials mining to the commercial marketing in retail stores is part of contributing to that thoughtform, both individually for a given TV, and as an archetype about TVs in general.

So you won't be surprised that in general, I consider most everything a thoughtform on some level (some are physical, some aren't), and I consider all thoughtforms to be an identity of sorts, whether it's a television or a fictional character.

Geometry:

When communicating in some rather obscure states-of-mind, nothing really works to get an idea across in terms of words. What does work, though, is if you "intuitively search" for a "geometric shape" that "feels like it fits" the concept you're trying to get across. This may be large or small, simple or complex, it's usually pretty offbeat, and sometimes it takes awhile to 'feel out' the various proportions of it that intuitively feel right.

Once you have the whole thing feeling appropriate, then you can present that shape to an entity--and to them, for whatever reason, it apparently makes sense.

Often I've had this "language training" in dreams that felt like some kind of geometry. And there's a level of both spontaneous dowsing (simple gut-locating) and grokking (like a whole galaxy) that is entirely based on "geometry-of-meaning."

For a long time I considered the 'base' of most everything in the universe to be 'shapes and relationships of energy' -- or, geometry -- but so far I still have no evidence for that. Then I considered geometry to be a sort of language, because for me shapes were being used as a language. But eventually I realized that I was marginalizing the whole concept.

A given shape/geometry of energy is just as much a 'thing' as, say, a chair -- and in some respects, might be more 'pure' a thing, for having less 'add-on' to its nature: it's just a shape, not necessarily some material-energy made into a thing in that shape. Shapes don't feel like thoughtforms to me because they feel like they are behind or under that, as if thought itself is laid upon shape in order to take a certain 'form' -- as thoughts are not physical, the 'form' they take is a sort of geometry... it becomes physical, in an energetic sense, on some level. This could be wrong or incomplete, it's just my impressions so far.

I once merged with a geometric shape; it was astounding, like my whole form took on that shape, like it grew to life inside me and 'of' me with my energy, and like I morphed and stretch to match it, which was awesome. But the real point I'm making is only that eventually, I came to consider all geometric form--which is infinite--to be at base, a sort of identity of its own. Let's say something simple, like a triangle. As a geometry, which is also an archetype... it is an identity.

Numbers are in the same category. I once merged with the number 4. Man, 99.9% of the experience was completely ineffable, and that's just the part I was able to retain when it was over; most was too far out. It was like becoming one of the fundamental building blocks of the universe. Every number is infinite, as Liber al vel Legis says... I really believe that now. Before that experience I had never considered that the number four was literally "sentient to the degree of a powerful godform". That was hard to wrap my brain around for awhile, since to me, numbers are just abstracts.

But aside from numbers, so are fictional characters. So are geometries. Abstracts, ideas, just as much as physical things, are at the least thoughtforms, and in the case of geometric shapes and numbers, possibly much, much more. It's a little hazy on the lesser things, but there is no doubt on the greater things, that these are definitely--at the least--"identities".

Identity is an arbitrary collection of energy. 10 marbles, a bowl, and that bowl of marbles, are 12 different identities technically--because when you start adding things together, your equation has a slightly different sum; every combined thing is a new identity just from the combination, more than the sum of its parts. Let us say you have a table at a restaurant, and you have five people plus a waiter, and all the food, and a birthday cake, and a celebration. All the components that are part of that birthday dinner go into making up the *identity* that is "the birthday dinner." That identity is a conglomerate, a composite, and it includes several people and objects and aside from that, it includes all energy dynamics within a given span of time, and many other subtle elements.

This is why in remote viewing, you can target an idea. You can target a fictional character. You can target an event. Even though these things are not "things," nor are they "people", those definitions themselves make up an identity.

And because everything is an identity--a unique identity, even though in many cases there is so little uniqueness that a viewer tends to get more of the group thoughtform/ archetype than the specific (e.g. if targeted on a television, a viewer is as likely to get archetypal info about TVs, even if it's not accurate for the specific one in question)--but because everything is an identity, viewers are more than capable of simply tuning into that identity as a "target".

You might say that the whole identity concept is merely a "singular" way of putting it. A person has a ton of different energy and components but we call that conglomerate "PJ". A television has a zillion tiny parts but we call it "a TV." A birthday dinner has a ton of different elements, from physical forms to entities to objects to 'energy dynamics' without form, but we call it "a birthday dinner."

The fact that identity is arbitrary and able to be collected in infinite ways is great. It's what allows "a target" to be a singular tasking in RV, rather than a detailed list of every imaginable detail involved. That's pretty important, since at root, we may not even know what all is involved and that might be part of the whole point of viewing something in the first place. But if we know the "host identity" -- the target -- we can explore its components.

So, is accessing a given "identity" merely a matter of getting your attention to it? Is every identity comprised of energy? If there is no space, and there is no time, exactly 'where and when' is this energy being stored? How do we find the Star Trek "section 729G" address of that identity?

PJ

Physical Reality and Identities

Following on the previous, but split-out to a new topic for clarity:

Now, the problem with psychic ability is that people you talk to always expect you to somehow be working with the same sense of reality they are, and merely to know a lot of secrets. I look back on the early days of RV in public, when it was mostly represented by insane people like Dames, and how everybody talked about viewing your own death and God and every imaginable target like it was just so fun and viewers were tough but still perfectly ordinary people, excepting their occasional omniscience, which mysteriously could not be found in those claiming it and selling it.

It's such a fairy tale. Anybody viewing seriously for a good length of time is definitely going to cease being that perfectly ordinary person. If they don't, then whatever they're doing isn't viewing. Of course, if they're cool, they will perfect the art of "acting" normal, so to others it is not apparent that their entire way of looking at reality has shifted a zillion times until their whole framework of what is real and what is alive would be incomprehensible to most people. But to pretend that the process does not radically affect fundamental belief systems about reality, about identity, about time, is to simplify it to the point of absurd. I think the reason there are so few longterm viewers is because the psychological impact of it is more than nearly everybody's willing to adapt to, so people just fall by the wayside, the chronic cognitive dissonance gets resolved by their instantly walking away from it, sooner or later.

Viewing, in MY experience of it anyway--although spontaneous 'esoteric experience' has some part of this with me too I admit--gradually tends to dissolve a lot of the assumptions about reality, and depending on one's experiences with it, that can impact the area called "identity".

Identity is arbitrary. And, it's share-able. It's a collection of information, no different in some respects than an event or a complex object.

Whether something is perceived "as" an identity depends on the psychic in question. If you hold firmly to yourself (as is considered, historically, 'the way, truth and light' for remote viewing), then when you look at, say, a tornado, or Ganymede, you will mostly be aware of all that destructive windpower, or that big hunk of ice-ball in the sky. Because in official RV, nobody gives a damn whether these things are alive and aware. Nobody really wants to know what Ganymede is like. They want to see on paper that it's a space object of ice because that matches the known feedback. The whole issue with identity tends to freak people out, even plenty of viewers I know. They aren't sure if they should consider it possession, or what; many consider it 'dangerous', to work like that. I consider it awesome and fascinating.

If you allow your identity to flow, and to share, then it might be different, like it has been for me. You may find that you ARE the tornado, a nearly ineffable experience, or that you are sharing your perception with Ganymede, as if IT is remote viewing YOU, as a mutual shared experience. If you fall into a zen sort of merge with a metal recycling bin, you may momentarily share 'some degree of awareness'--and the addition of yours may 'add' to that of the MRB's to allow this to happen.

But when you are done, it makes you an Animist. That word until now has mostly meant a religious perception that "god is in everything" - trees, rocks, birds, people, whatever. My interpretation of it is slightly more wholistic, mostly that I don't really have a definition of 'god' to fit the western perspective to start with--if we're going to use that word to mean 'consciousness' or 'awareness' then I'm ok with it. But I believe that even non-autonomous, non-self-aware "things" have 'awareness'. It is just of a different degree than we have. (We are really complex entities, in some respects.) Whether a psychic has enough "flexible identity" to allow other identities to join theirs, or merge/overlap, is what seems to drive "how" the psychic will perceive that thing (or person, or entity, or planet, or tornado, etc.).

And like everything else in the universe, identities are energy. Like trees, dining tables and televisions, they are 'collections of energy' operating as a singularity: a 'thing' that is an 'identity'. I'm PJ, that is a table, there is a tree, that's my TV--what's the difference, except that I am seemingly autonomous and self-aware, and the tree is seemingly NOT autonomous, and whether it is self-aware I have no idea but I suspect moreso than humans suspect, and the TV is not self-aware (I believe) but does have some degree of 'awareness' simply because all its physical components are comprised of 'consciousness', which is a property of the vibrating energy that creates mass. The "degree of awareness," and whether it moves into self-awareness (which is simply a high-degree), and the "degree of autonomy," which I suspect is simply a higher number on the awareness chart also, is most of what separates us. That, and that I am mobile in the frequency-bandwidth we consider physical reality, within which I have opposable thumbs.

So I can chop down that tree and seemingly impose my will upon all those things. That does not mean they are not identities of their own, merely because I have more autonomy and mobility than they do. A sewing machine has a destiny for which it was designed just like a human does. All things long for evolvement, even seemingly inanimate objects. Inanimate doesn't mean unaware. It merely means not-biological and not-communicative within the bandwidth of physical reality. When humans focus in a different way, they are able to 'connect' with such things, and with the addition of their awareness, gain some understanding of that seemingly inanimate object and whatever 'awareness' it actually does have.

I learned this by accident, not by viewing, and managed to 'magically fix' a sewing machine as a result of truly understanding, for the first time, its role and its potential. By convincing it that I could help it find that potential, and selling us both a vision of how awesome and powerful it could be in my world, how useful to my life, if only it worked, it suddenly did, after hours of crying frustration on my part. Sure, skeptics will rightly point out that I have no proof I didn't just PK the machine in some fashion, but some of that is being self-centered, I think; I attribute consciousness to everything being composed of it, so I consider all changes to be 'joint ventures' between my intent and the focus.

Some Seth-ian and ACiM folks might suggest that since reality reflects me, it was only me that changed. I would agree with that, however, I think recognition and respect for everything around me is part of recognition and respect for myself. Recognizing that I, on some level, worked with energy to mutually create a given thing, does not imply that the thing "doesn't exist," it only implies that it is a part of me. I believe that framework should empower people to recognize how fabulous reality is, to see the profound significance of symbol in sidewalks, and sliding glass doors. Instead it often causes people to devaluate and dismiss everything around them as 'fake illusion' while they try to 'transcend' it.

Thus far in life, every surprisingly-cool thing I have ever pulled off, from occasional PK to plenty of RV, has been a side effect of genuinely appreciating and granting respect , whether informally and I knew what it was, or formally in RV when I didn't know what it was. Gratitude goes a long way.

Some magicians do experiments where they attempt to commune with a given elemental. Some monks do experiments where they attempt to commune with a small stone. What is the difference? The stone happens to fall within the red-bandwidth of the rainbow of soul, within the frequency grouping we call physical reality. So we can see and touch it, unlike the 'elemental'. But maybe the stone IS an elemental: it is simply one within our spectrum. They are both "identities". The physical or other detail is its own question. But they are no less identities than a tree or a person. They simply don't have the same complexity, intensity, and degree of 'awareness' that humans do.

And we are the elementals of larger awareness. When we merge with something less-aware, it's a downright religious experience for it, to share in our "expanded consciousness". When we merge with something more-aware, it's a downright religious experience for US, to share in its "expanded consciousness."

So in addition to all the "entities" which have "identities" -- from humans to aliens to shamanic creatures to astral entities -- we also have the situation of reality, composed of energy, of which consciousness is an inherent part, a whole vibrating, cycling universe of awareness. In my world, although I don't operate like this except when working on psi or philosophy, everything has some degree of awareness, and on the whole, no matter the degree or nature of it, I consider that "thing" -- that metal recycling bin, that tree, that television -- and, that moon, that tornado -- to be an 'identity' of sorts.

Not your average interpretation of 'identity' I agree. But that is mine. And because all things are an 'identity' to some degree, if I add enough of my own consciousness to the mix, I can perceive 'as' them or 'through' them or 'with' them -- not just OF them. Not just from the perspective of a human looking on. But from the perspective of a living universal translator, that can "sit in on or share with" nearly anything.

Now when I choose to access a given identity -- let us say 'the target' is that tree, or my TV, or a tornado, or a moon -- is it merely a matter of finding the beat pattern and place on the sine-wave that their vibrating energy inhabits, and somehow getting your attention there?

PJ

Frequency, Dimensions and Entities

The next few posts may not make much sense, because I'm using the blog to think-on-paper and try and work through something chewing on the back of my brain. (Ewwww.) Too many things at once that complicate it yet they all sorta relate. Must wade through them in text so I can eventually re-read and then better put the pieces together. I will try and keep each major topic-group together in a separate post, then when I've got them all down, I'll post on the REAL question that they all relate to.

In my perception during my Bewilderness era, just about everything came down to vibrating energy and different frequencies, different beat-patterns of the sine wave of a given frequency, etc. Probably to physicists this all makes perfect sense. To me, it just meant an infinite number of probabilities, possibilities, realities, energies, entities, identities, timelines, etc. I called it "Jungian Stew," the universe I was just one tiny piece of carrot in the midst of, swirling around as it boiled and bubbled (in toil and trouble, as the witch's brew song goes)--confusing even on a good day; crazy-making on bad ones.

I haven't got any answers when it comes to entities and aliens and other realities and past/future times and so on. I know what I experience. Sometimes there is some consistency there. That may be more about me or my interpretation than the things I experience. Sometimes there is not consistency. To this day I have the same question that I had 13-15 years ago: what do all these thinhgs have to do with one another?

How does this tie into the bizarre situation of 'time' seeming to move in every direction, not just the one we know in this world, and of 'reality' seeming to be basically infinite, limited only by attention, observation, awareness?

Because for me, all these things seemed to come either through the same doorway, or state of mind, or generally the same timeframe, I kept waiting to see if it'd be clear, eventually, how they related to each other.

Why did the light-beings and the cat-eyed lizard guys and the greys and the blondes and the tall red-dusky sorts etc. seemed to be different, with different agendas in some cases, but some working together in other cases? But that's the EASY ones: those, at least, all fall into the 'alien' category. Simple. Let me put a label on that little file-folder. "These are aliens." I feel better now.

Now there's the creature kind of like a human but all brown and with a face that sticks out sorta like a horse's. Then there's the creature that vaguely reminded me, in form only, of one of the characters in the later-levels of the first version of the videogame DOOM: about 70% of its body is legs, as if there are two knee points instead of one, and the leg goes up and then bends back downward toward the hip, creating giant 'haunches'. That one had a fine grey and white pinstriped skin all over, and a human face, though it was odd, with a dominant center of thin face, reminding me vaguely of a few jewish men I've known. The eyes were terrifyingly feral-but-intelligent. Nature creatures fall in here, like the dryads and so on. Those are what I call the 'shamanic' creatures. I've seen tons of different kinds of these, but my brain (I finally concluded) can't "hold the pattern" until I've seen them repeatedly, just because they're so different I guess. Can I call those shamanic? Sure. Let me make another folder here... alrighty. That category is all sewn up.

Then there's the creatures of the Aethyrs. These start with archetypal occult creatures (I suppose), like the one that had the bottom half of a male human, the upper half of a female human, and the head of a ram, with horns, and something on its head, rather like fruit. (To you it is, but to me it is not, and in Truth it is something else, it explained when I asked about that.) Then there are the other archetypal creatures like the incubus and succubus and other human-like (but not-quite-exactly) creatures that you can "feel" astrally (and that can frighten you into paralysis, or use a level of sleep paralysis as opportunity), most of which seem to want our energy (sex, whether direct or abstract, seeming to be the primary means of share/transfer). I call them creatures of the Aethyrs partly because it's mostly occult stuff that talks about these, but also because way-back when human writings had a little more about them, they rather liked variants on the words "Ethers" as if the air itself had layers. OK, this folder is "Aethyrs," and that category is all neat and clean now.

Alrighty. So we've got aliens over in the first corner, and astral entities over there in the second, and shamanic beasties over in the other corner, and me as a human in the fourth. Then we've got the seeming 'light-beings', and whether these fall into the religious/astral (angelic) or alien (pleiadian) category I guess depends on which of them you're talking with.

This is entirely complicated by a few facts, like:

1. Many of these have been around longer than our species.

2. They've been around HERE, albeit not working at wal-mart.

(Wait. If you'd seen the staff at my local super walmart, you could probably argue this point and win, but never mind.)

3. Which means they are less alien than WE are.

But the real brain-crunching part comes from the following:

You can access any or all of these "identities" -- 'doons, as I used to call them in my early days -- through the same 'doorway of consciousness'. Although some seem to "intrude upon our physical reality," that is usually temporary, and often doesn't need to be repeated, since it appears implants allow a bilocation ability that makes actually parking a craft next to your neighbor's Volvo unnecessary. And, it's not unusual that people with experience with any one of these 'categories' of creatures, eventually has experience with the others.

Because they all come through the same doorway for us (generally), it's pretty difficult to figure out what separates them from one another.

Maybe everything has its own physical reality just like we do, in its own frequency; maybe the aliens are nothing more than those 'closer to our frequency' than others, so better able to be here physically or affect us physically etc.

Whether the so-called aliens understand the issues with time and dimensions--and all those other entities--I don't know.

I wonder, is accessing 'the homeland' of a given type of entity, merely a matter of frequency? Finding the beat pattern and place on the sine-wave that they inhabit, and somehow getting your attention there?

PJ

Alien NLP

There have been many times that either in dreams, visions, or other esoteric experience someone else has either said to me, or heavily implied, that I was -- well, something distinctly individual and special, the word varies and sometimes I don't recall the word if it's a dream and I awaken, but it has some singular and semi-religious connotation. Usually it is some variant of--or something that gives the impression of--prophet, saint, etc. I personally suspect this is human ego on some level.

The other day I was watching multiple segments of this guy's "Abduction Account." It is pretty interesting; I take it more seriously than many I've heard. Of course, thanks to Bewilderness I have my own framework for all this, of a sort--retrospectively at least, I didn't have one at the time--which probably skews how I interpret other peoples' accounts.

Anyway, somewhere around part 3 I guess it was--I'm not sure as I fell deeply asleep during part 4, suggesting I was probably in denial, gotta get back to that--he says the aliens are having a hard time with him and he's ready to punch them when one walks in and looks at him and says to the others something like, "This is the prophet."

Two interesting things happened then that weren't obvious (I don't think) to the guy telling it. The first is that he accorded the man who said it a lot more respect than the others. The second is that he reduced (greatly) his probability of physically freaking out.

Which seriously led me to wonder if that whole part was a setup to begin with. "It worked," is what I thought, on hearing it. It reframed it for him, in an NLP context; the situation's overall equation changed, because the inner variable--him--was affected by this, even though nothing else changed.

There is no reason to think that the various entities/aliens that interact with humans are all morons. Basic human psychology is not rocket science, to say the least. And in the state of mind when we are interacting with them, it seems a little closer to the emotional surface and a little farther away from the ordinary surface of mind that we consider reality 'here', which I suspect may make us slightly more vulnerable to that kind of thing as well.

I'm a skeptic at heart. That's why when I do bulk doubleblind dowsing I also throw in targets like "My name is Melissa." If I get these wrong, I have to take positive answers for "Am I being monitored for intell purposes" or "Are there really people living on Mars like my session implied" with a grain of salt. (Let's just say that a good deal of dowsing has left me a skeptic as to the success rate of binary models for psi. I think it's do-able, but I can also easily see why RV took precedence over all forced-choice formats.)

In an "interactive situation with other identities" as I would call this, I would later ask myself:

1 - is there any reason for them telling me something which might not be true?
2 - do I have any reason to 'believe' anything or everything they tell me?
3 - if they told me something different or opposite, would I believe that too?

Because I notice a curious thing about 'doons of any kind, whether they're aliens or entities or god-only-knows-what-else: if they say something grand about you, one is prone to not only believe it, but to instantly bestow some level or trust or respect upon the one uttering it.

If it weren't so predictable it'd be embarrassing.

Now I'm not saying this guy is not "the prophet" or whatever. My comments are about me, not about him, it's just that his account made me think of all this.

I'm saying that having had kinda similar frameworks of experience, and more than once, and in different genres of experience, I question whether this is some fundamental truth--or some beautiful, hypnotic experience which not only served their purpose for that moment, but actually set this guy's psychology up to share his experience and all the different things they told him. (At which point maybe he became the prophet. As if there can only be one.)

In business you'd have to pay someone as a spokesperson. In intelligence you'd have to pay them or monitor them to see they didn't get wild, I imagine. In religion, people are driven to share their stories with others for internal reasons, mostly the feeling of importance, whether of the subject or themselves or both.

But in esoteric experiences, all it seems to take is one convincing identity to tell you that you're something special--even if the identity is the bad guy, humorously!--to later provide the effectiveness of business and intelligence combined with the internal drive of religion. A star is born, not necessarily because we were destined, but because we were able to BELIEVE that we were destined to 'be someone' after they told us so.

Humans tend to believe anything they say, because we have a complete vacuum of experience or evidence to the contrary, and because when with them, we seem to be in a state of mind that is highly suggestible. If I believed everything an entity or alien has told me or that some esoteric experience has showed or implied to me, I'd probably be totally crazy by now, convinced of some glorious spiritual calling for my people for which I alone was qualified to serve. I just can't take the 'doons, or myself, that seriously.

He points out (in part 6) that communication was telepathic, and he has a hard time understanding how they could ever lie, since he could "see" or understand their brains and vice-versa.

I don't know. That's a good point. In bewilderness I had the argument from others that they were lying to me or appearing to be something different. I really don't have an answer to any of it. I guess I just have some fundamental need to question myself, and his account tapped into that insecurity of mine.

PJ