Gray Aliens: Origins and Objectives.

“But who shall dwell in these worlds if they be inhabited?…
Are we or they Lords of the World?…
And how are all things made for man?—”
— Kepler (quoted in The Anatomy of Melancholy) [as quoted in The War of the Worlds].

Though there have been many allegations with respect to their origins over the years, the most persistent allegation is that the Gray aliens described so often in abduction reports and alien encounters derive from Zeta Reticulum, a binary star system. To the best of my knowledge and amateur research, these allegations derived from at least three sources, the first of which was the 1961 abduction account of Betty and Barney Hill, though this happened in a remarkable and roundabout way. Subsequent to this, their Zeta origins were communicated to Bob Lazar as he was reading compartmentalized briefings in the late 1980s, and it was then quite literally spelled out to Kim Carlsberg in 1991.

Most recently, I heard this from Carlsberg, specifically through her 1995 book, Beyond My Wildest Dreams, which I should add is wonderfully illustrated by Darryl Anka. In her entry for October 6, 1991, she describes what is apparently just another rendition of a dream she had often had in which she found herself struggling as she was submerged underwater and forced to breathe the liquid. Once she finally did, she felt herself separate from her body and rise to the water’s surface, as was evidently typical of such dreams — though now, for the first time, she saw that her body remained alive despite the fact that she was outside of it. Before finally awakening from this dream, which she would later discover echoes the Breathing Pool experience described by many abductees, she heard a voice spell out “Zeta Reticulum” — first Z, then ZE, then ZET, and so on — after which she abruptly awoke.

So in her case, their origin was evidently announced to her by the little gray bastards themselves. The experience of Bob Lazar was more second hand in this respect, as he is not an abductee, though the whole of his experience as he describes it is at worst merely fascinating and at best an incredible wealth of information. I first heard of him back in the 1990s, far before Carlsberg’s experience, when my need to understand all I could about this subject and it’s periphery first manifested in my life. Though a controversial figure, Lazar’s story is an intriguing one that I’ve kept finding myself coming back to again and again over the years.

He claims that from December of 1988 to April of the following year he was employed by the Office of Naval Intelligence as senior staff physicist for Project Galileo, which was aiming to reverse engineer alien spacecraft at a remote installation known as S-4. He would arrive at the EG&G building nearby McCarran Airport in Las Vegas, and from there he would be flown to the ominous Area 51 — a mere stop on the way. Transported from there by a bus with blacked-out windows, he would ultimately arrive at S-4, an even more remote location on the Nellis Test Range than the pit-stop his story incidentally brought the media spotlight down upon.

This installation was built into the base of the Papoose mountains nearby the dry lake bed, it’s nine angled hangar doors covered by a sand-textured coating that served as camouflage. At one point he even saw all the hangars open, each revealing a distinct craft, their appearance inspiring Lazar to nickname them: the Top Hat, the Jello Mold, and so on. He only worked in a single hangar, however, and on one specific craft, which he called the Sport Model. And he saw only two out of three levels of the interior.

Early into his employment there he was often left alone in a briefing room with a table and chair, where he was left to read roughly 120 briefing documents contained in small blue booklets, each of which provided a swift synopsis of all projects in the overarching program. Though he could only confirm through personal experience that what they said of Project Galileo was true, the documents did provide disturbing information. Among these briefings he learned that the Grays, which they referred to as The Kids, derived from the Zeta Reticuli star system — specifically the fourth planet from Zeta 2, where a day is evidently some 90 earth-hours long. In the briefings, the planet was referred to as Zeta 2 Reticulum 4.

Though I currently hold the opinion that there may be a small chance that I’m mistaken, I believe that the first time I heard of the Zeta connection with the Grays was through hearing the account of Betty and Barney Hill. It was certainly the first time this star system manifested in UFO lore. They were taken from New Hampshire in 1961 while returning home from a vacation.

At some point during her hypnosis session with Dr. Benjamin Simon, Betty described how she had informed her alien escort that she was well aware that he wasn’t from around here and asked him where he had come from. In response, he brings her into a room and shows her what we would now describe as a three-dimensional, holographic star map. Some of the stars were connected with heavy lines that she was told denoted trade routes; those connected by dotted lines were occasional expeditions. In relation to the map, she again asked where his home port was. In response, he asked her if she could identify where she was on the map. Upon laughing and confessing she hadn’t the foggiest, he then said that if she didn’t know where she was, there was no point telling her where he was from.

After Dr. Benjamin Simon confirmed she remembered the map, he gave her a posthypnotic suggestion: if she could remember it accurately, she should draw it later. And so she did. Even so, as Stanton Friedman later put it, there seemed little chance that the map, even if accurately drawn, would help much at all with respect to determining their origins. Aside from what the alien had implied, which was that one the stars on the map might be our own sun, there was no point of reference. These could depict stars damned near anywhere in the galaxy, and that’s assuming they are indeed from our galaxy.

Enter: Marjorie Fish, a schoolteacher, astronomer and member of Mensa. She became interested in the star map and took the time to speak with Betty and collect the details firsthand. Ultimately, Fish made a total of 26 different 3D models of our local galactic neighborhood (which is to say 54 light years from us in every direction?) in the attempts to find a 3D pattern of stars that matched Betty’s 2D map. Having anticipated coming across a multitude of matches, she was rather surprised when she at first found zilch. Once she received good data regarding the distances between the stars and narrowed her search to the kind of stars most likely to host planetary life as we know it, however — and had some help from Walter Mitchell, Professor of Astronomy at Ohio State University — she found one pattern that matched “angle for angle, line length for line length,” as Friedman says.

The two large, foreground stars depicted in the lower, left-hand corner and connected by five straight lines on Betty’s map, according to Fish’s research, correspond to Zeta 1 and 2 Reticuli — the binary star system of Zeta Reticuli, residing in the constellation of Reticulum (“the net”). It is positioned in the geocentric southern hemisphere and resides roughly 39 light-years (or 12 parsecs) from our earthen sun.

As to whether there is any evidence for a planet around either of these stars: yes. Sort of. On September 20th, 1996, it was announced that a planet was discovered orbiting Zeta 2 Reticuli. It was then reportedly removed from the Extra Solar Planets Encyclopedia website some four days later, however, because “the data may have been misinterpreted and there probably is no planet.” Instead, the claim was revised: evidence has been found for a disc of debris around Zeta 2 with asymmetry suggestive of a planet.

Could the existence of this planet be verified, and might there be at least three other planetary companions as well, just as Lazar’s briefings suggested?

In his article “Zeta 2 Reticuli: Home System of the Greys?”, Joe LeSearne explains Bode’s Law, which states (in essence) that going from the star in question outward, each planet in a star system is roughly twice the distance from the star than the previous planet. According to Neil deGrasse Tyson, it should be said, this was based on our own solar system and may not apply to other star systems. Assuming it does apply to other star systems, however, and assuming the “discovered” planet around Zeta 2 Reticuli is the closest to its star (which at 0.14 AU is evidently a fairly good bet), one can then extrapolate where any other planets in the star system might be. Applying Kepler’s third law, we can then determine the length of the year on each of the hypothetical planets as well. None of this I understand sufficiently, as I do not “math” very well, but I can summarize his results.

At 0.14 AU, Zeta 2 Reticulum 1 would have a year that was but 18.9 earth-days long; for Reticulum 2, at 0.28 AU, it would be 52.8 days, and for Reticulum 3, at 0.56 AU, it would be 149 days. Zeta 2 Reticulum 4, alleged home planet of the Grays, would have a year slightly longer than Earth’s, at 422 days. This planet would reside at 1.12 AU which, he excitedly points out, rests between the distances of Earth (naturally, at 1.00 AU) and Mars (1.52 AU). Given the similarity between our two stars, this means that the alleged planet of the Grays would reside well within the habitable or “goldilocks” zone of their star.

If this is all true, what might the planet be like? Among alien experiences there is a description of an exoplanet — presumably their home planet — that has been fairly consistent across the board.

Many abductees have been shown imagery of this vast, otherworldly desert planet with two or three suns in the sky. This has surfaced in material provided by Whitley Strieber, David Jacobs, Karla Turner, and others. In his book, The Threat, David Jacobs remarks that “[m]any abductees have reported being in a desert-like terrain. Although the meaning of these settings is unclear, there are indications that such terrain may be a home environment for the aliens.” He then provides portions of the transcript from the hypnosis session of “Susan Steiner” (pages 51-52), who seems to be describing this planet:

“The sky is like reddish. There’s like cloud formations that are sort of hanging in the air very low, like very, they’re not like cumulus clouds. They’re more feathery type clouds. And they’re like all different colors. Like multicolored and they’re hanging in the air, almost like cotton candy or angel’s hair. It looks sort of like angel’s hair hanging there in the air. It’s just like all over the place. There’s like three, looks like there’s three suns in the sky. One of them has like little, like smaller things sort of like … I don’t know what you would call them but like rotating around one of the suns. The other two don’t have that, the other two are just plain. We start walking out into this […] hard sand. It’s not like beach sand, it’s like harder than that.”

Again, a similar environment is mentioned in Karla Turner’s book Taken, where she speaks of an abductee she calls Angie:

“In February 1989, she had another abduction in which she was called a ‘Chosen One’ and was also shown a scene familiar from other abductee reports. One of the aliens touched her forehead, she said, and ‘a series of graphic images exploded’ in her mind. She saw ‘a reddish-gold desert planet with two setting suns,’ a ‘galaxy,’ a ‘blood-red moon and a fiery orange sun exploding,’ and an ‘underground city’ before she blacked out. When she regained consciousness, an alien told her their home was ‘Cassiopeia in the heavens’ but that they had made a home for themselves on Earth before humans were created. After this, Angie passed out again and was returned home.”

In his book Confirmation, Whitley Strieber provides snippets from the letters many have sent to him describing their own bizarre experiences. On page 149, he cites an experience that sounds somewhat familiar:

“I was standing in the middle of a red plain. The ground beneath my feet was dust… like what I imagine moon dust would be like. There were no rocks, no chunks of anything. I appeared to be in the middle of a street. There were large, tan buildings running up and down this street, in all sort of strange configurations. They were not elaborate at all — just very angular. On the whole, they looked like Spanish missions, if those missions had been designed by Salvador Dali. They were made of some crenulated metallic material that on first glance looked like adobe. The sky above my head was white. Not bright white or cloudy white — it was more like the sky glowed, like it had some innate property of light. On the street were dozens of ‘gray’ creatures. They appeared to be gliding back and forth up and down the street. They gave off this feeling that I was sort of distasteful to them. I felt big and dirty and ugly.”

As I browsed through Albert Rosales compilation of humanoid sighting reports for 1989 on unfoino.com, I came across an interesting case that occurred in Mezhriybaza, Uzbekistan. On the fitting night of October 31, UFOFORUM in Russia reported that:

“A local bookkeeper, X. Saidov, spotted a large dazzling object descending towards the ground. After the object landed, a tall robot-like being wearing a silvery suit emerged from the object. Terrified, Saidov is unable to move and apparently loses consciousness. Waking up later, he finds himself in a desert like location standing among the sands. He could see hills and pyramids around him. He sees a man and woman exit one of the pyramids, but he remained paralyzed and felt the ground under him become soft. He soon lost consciousness again. Later he found himself standing next to his car close to the village.”

Such descriptions fit a type of exoplanet currently referred to as a land planet. In a 2011 paper in Astrobiology magazine entitled “Habitable Zone Limits for Dry Planets,” it is even suggested that life-bearing earth-like planets might be rare in comparison to life-bearing land planets, which would have a habitable zone around their star that is roughly three times larger.

Nuclear physicist and UFO researcher, lecturer and author Stanton Friedman has since made some interesting observations regarding Marjorie Fish’s discovery that might give us further insights into the Grays and their presumed point of origin. Zeta 1 and 2 Reticuli are the closest pair of “solar analogs” in our neighborhood, with Zeta-2 being the bigger, brighter and hotter of the two and the most similar to our sun. There is an ongoing debate regarding the age of these stars, however, which could be as young as two billion or as old as eight billion years. In other words, the prospect that life could have developed around any planets should they exist — judging from the amount of time life apparently took to develop on the earth — is more or less up in the air at the moment. In any case, it is possible that life on any planets there may have had a head start on us.

Though 39.17 light years away from us, the twins of Reticuli are a mere fraction of a lightyear distant from one another — far closer than our own closest stellar neighbor, Proxima Centauri, at 4.24 light years away. Light from one star in the binary system would take three weeks to reach its partner, which equals plenty of space for both stars to have their own planetary systems. Due to the close proximity of the stars of Zeta, on any planets around either of them the companion star would be visible — even in the daytime, assuming the planets in question were not tidally locked — shining some 30 times brighter than geocentric Venus. In addition, the residents of a planet around any one of the stars would be able to directly observe not only the other planets around its own star, but planets around the other as well. A sufficiently advanced planetary civilization would be capable of detecting life on another in the binary system, perhaps before ever leaving their home planet. Friedman has also suggested that given the close proximity of the other star and any planets surrounding it, space travel would have developed far earlier than it has with respect to the human species and underwent a rapid acceleration.

After exploring and colonizing their own binary star system, the most obvious targets would be the closest neighboring star systems, which Betty’s map reflects. Beginning at the right-hand side of the map and fanning to the left, we have four stars connected to Zeta-1 by means of those heavy lines: Alpha Mensae, the Sun, 82 G. Eridani and Gliese 86.

Betty’s captor described the bold lines as denoting trade routes, however, suggesting that there was life located in each of these star systems with whom they were trading. Are these stars, based on what we know, suitable for life, though, and have any exoplanets been discovered around them? I decided to find out.

Alpha Mensae serves as the lucida, or brightest star, in the constellation of Mensa, though it is the dimmest lucida present in our night sky. It is a main sequence star with the stellar classification of G7 V. It resides some 33.1 light years from our sun and shares a similar size and color, though it is slightly cooler and dimmer. It is also slightly older, at 5.4 billion years. Though suggestions of a circumstellar disc of gaseous matter were initially detected around the star, doubts arose once the Herschel Space Observatory failed to confirm it. Despite this and the lack of any discovered planetary companions, however, it was a prime target for NASA’s Terrestrial Planet Finder (TPF), a mission which was ultimately cancelled.

Next in line, there is our own Sun, a main-sequence star with the stellar classification of G2V that is 4.6 billion years old. It has at least eight planets, at least one of which is life-bearing.

Next is the star 82 G. Eridani, alternatively e Eridani, HD 20794 or HR 1008, which resides in the constellation Eridanus. It is a main-sequence star with a stellar classification of G5 (or G6), making it similar to our sun in terms of color, though slightly smaller. It resides roughly 20 light years away from Earth and has an estimated age of 6 to 12 billion years; in any case, older than our sun. This star was also a prime target for TPF, as well as the Space Interferometry Mission (SIM), which has also been cancelled. Even so, on August 17, 2011, astronomers announced the apparent detection of three Super-Earths orbiting the star — unimaginatively called 82 G. Eridani a, b and c — though all with orbital period of 90 days or less, which means they’re close to their star and so unlikely to be habitable. In 2017, three more planets were detected, however, with one of them, 82 G, Eridani f, orbiting within the habitable zone.

Gliese 86, the last star connected by a bold line on the map, is a K-type main-sequence star of spectral type K1V approximately 35 light-years away in the constellation of Eridanus. It has a close-orbiting massive Jovian planet and a white dwarf (Gliese 86 B) located around 21 AU from the primary star, making the Gliese 86 system one of the tightest binaries known to host an extrasolar planet.

Though Friedman has never explored these individual stars or their potential exoplanets in his lectures or written works, he has made some curious observations of them as a whole. Despite the fact that only 5% of the stars within 54 light years of our own are sun-like stars, all of these trade-rote stars are, which is a strange coincidence. Friedman maintains the chances are one in several thousand that this would be the case. Equally eerie is that all stars exist on a plane — like pepperoni slices placed flat atop a pizza, as Friedman has put it, rather than like raisins scattered throughout a loaf of bread.

Though it isn’t entirely clear on the map which of the stars of Zeta Reticulum the Grays are native to, the fact that Zeta 2 is the star from which the trade routes to the four other star systems stem is strongly suggestive, and this would line up with what Lazar said and perhaps even the more recent potential detection of a planet around that star in particular.

Aside from their own home star system, there is the question as to who they are trading with. The five lines connecting both the stars of Zeta might indicate life naturally exists in both systems, or perhaps only that a faction of their own species colonized the other star system and they subsequently engaged in trade with them. This could also be true of the other star systems, which is to say that they denote trade routes with other factions of their species who have colonized those areas.

Conversely, they could be trading with extraterrestrial intelligences native to those star systems — among them our own. Though the question remains: trading what? And at least with respect to Earth, with whom specifically? Any attempt to weave this into popular UFO lore might lead to speculations involving the alleged 1954 Greada Treaty or any variants on the tale, which in any case certainly represents the extreme, dark and highly questionable deep end of UFO conspiracy allegations.

One source for this story is William Cooper. In his book, Behold a Pale Horse, he wrote about a variety of strange, conspiratorial things, not least of which dealt with the large objects that were detected moving towards the earth in 1953, initially thought to be asteroids. Once it was determined they were in actuality spacecraft of some kind and they had taken up orbit around the equator, there were efforts to communicate with them via radio using binary language. These efforts were fruitful and they were able to arrange a meeting. Before that meeting took place, however, another alien race communicated with aspects of the US government and made First Contact.

Most sources that I’m currently aware of agree that this First Contact scenario happened in February of 1954. As the story goes, President Dwight Eisenhower was on a rather abruptly-announced vacation in Palm Springs, California, between the 17th and 24th when, on the evening and morning bridging the February 20th and 21st, he went missing. The media began speculating that he might be ill or perhaps had even died. The next morning, he showed up at a church service in LA. According to his press secretary, he’d lost a tooth cap while dining in some fried chicken and was rushed to a local dentist.

To some, this smelled like a cover story — the dental treatment, even the abrupt vacation. An alternative story eventually began to circulate that on the 20th he was in actuality taken to an Air Force Base (AFB) where he had his first, historic meeting with members of an extraterrestrial race, though some discrepancies arise with respect to where this epic meeting took place. According to Cooper in the aforementioned book, it was at Homestead Air Reserve Base in Miami–Dade County, Florida, which was at the time called Homestead AFB. Despite this, there is a lecture of his posted on YouTube which I came across entitled, “The Secret Government, UFOs, the Alien Problem and the Origin, Identity, and Purpose of MJ-12,” which the poster believed to have been recorded at the July 2, 1989 MUFON Symposium in Las Vegas, Nevada. In this video, he says otherwise. With respect to this First Contact meeting, he claimed that: “I do not know where this took place. I wish I did.” Most (even Gerald Light, whom Cooper himself cites as being there) claim it actually took place at Muroc AFB, later named Edwards AFB, which is located in Kern County in southern California.

According to Cooper, four individuals aside from Eisenhower were chosen to be present during this event, the reactions of whom would be considered representative of the public reaction to potential disclosure. Among them were Dr. Edwin Nourse, who worked at the Brookings Institution from 1923 to 1946 in the Institute of Economics and ultimately resigned to become the first chairman of Truman’s Council of Economic Advisers until 1949. Then there was James Francis Aloysius McIntyre of the Catholic Church, who from 1948 to 1970 functioned as an Archbishop of LA and became the first cardinal of the Western US in 1953, one year before First Contact. Also present was Franklin Winthrop Allen, an 80-year-old, retired reporter formerly of the Hearst Newspapers Group, who was allegedly authored the 1918 Dispatch Press publication, Instructions for Reporters for Hearings Before the Interstate Commerce Committee, though through my feeble Google searching I can find no evidence of its existence that doesn’t reference this meeting, which I find highly suspicious. Finally, there was Gerald Light, a writer, clairvoyant, medium and UFO contactee that also went under the name of Dr. Kappa.

In an April 16, 1954 letter to Meade Layne, who was at the time the director of Borderland Sciences Research Associates, Gerald Light wrote the following:

“My dear friends: I have just returned from Muroc. The report is true — devastatingly true! I made the journey in company with Franklin Allen of the Hearst papers and Edwin Nourse of Brookings Institute (Truman’s erstwhile financial advisor) and Bishop MacIntyre of L.A. (confidential names for the present, please). When we were allowed to enter the restricted section (after about six hours in which we were checked on every possible item, event, incident and aspect of our personal and public lives), I had the distinct feeling that the world had come to an end with fantastic realism. For I have never seen so many human beings in a state of complete collapse and confusion, as they realized that their own world had indeed ended with such finality as to beggar description. The reality of the ‘other plane’ aeroforms is now and forever removed from the realms of speculation and made a rather painful part of the consciousness of every responsible scientific and political group. During my two days’ visit I saw five separate and distinct types of aircraft being studied and handled by our Air Force officials — with the assistance and permission of the Etherians! I have no words to express my reactions. It has finally happened. It is now a matter of history. President Eisenhower, as you may already know, was spirited over to Muroc one night during his visit to Palm Springs recently. And it is my conviction that he will ignore the terrific conflict between the various ‘authorities’ and go directly to the people via radio and television — if the impasse continues much longer. From what I could gather, an official statement to the country is being prepared for delivery about the middle of May.”

The official statement alluded to didn’t happen, of course — at least not that May, and certainly not so blatantly.

Why these particular individuals? In his article, “Eisenhower’s 1954 Meeting With Extraterrestrials: The Fiftieth Anniversary of First Contact?”, Michael E. Salla, Ph.D., makes the case that these individuals would have been logical choices if indeed the event took place as suggested. Each of them were elderly and high-status representatives of the spiritual, religious, economic and media communities that, given the context of American society during that era, would have served as effective representatives of how the public might react to disclosure and, given that disclosure was judged to be the sensible path, advisors with respect to how such disclosure should unfold. “Based on this reaction,” Cooper writes, “it was decided that the public could not be told. Later studies confirmed the decision as sound.”

In a 1991 interview with UFO researcher William Hamilton, Sergeant Charles Suggs, Jr, claimed his father, Navy Sergeant Charles Suggs, Sr, was also present at this event at Edwards AFB on that same date. “They met and spoke with two white-haired Nordics that had pale blue eyes and colorless lips,” Hamilton wrote. “The spokesman stood a number of feet away from Ike and would not let him approach any closer. A second Nordic stood on the extended ramp of a bi-convex saucer that stood on tripod landing gear on the landing strip. According to Charlie, there were B-58 Hustlers on the field even though the first one did not fly officially till 1956. These visitors said they came from another solar system.”

Cooper, Light, Suggs and the others agree that the event is said to have occurred on February 20, 1954 (save for Lear, who only referenced the year), and is said to have involved remarkably human-like, and specifically Nordic-looking aliens. These aliens were also said to have similar concerns. According to Cooper, these human-like aliens not only warned us about the aliens orbiting the equator but informed us that we, as a species, were currently treading down a path ending only in species suicide. Given that we were willing to do away with our nukes and learn to live in peace and harmony with ourselves and our planet, however, they were willing to assist us in our spiritual development. They refused to offer us their alien technology as we were clearly incapable of spiritually handling the technology that we already possessed and felt certain that any technology they might bestow upon us would only serve to accelerate our trajectory towards annihilation. This proposed trade deal was met with a great deal of suspicion, particularly when it came to disarming ourselves of our nuclear arsenal, which it was felt quite strongly would only leave the US vulnerable to potential enemies both terrestrial and Other. On this basis, these alien proposals were ultimately rejected, though some suggest that Eisenhower himself was not on board with this rejection.

The planned meeting between representatives of the US government and the aliens revolving around earth’s equator, which turned out to be the entities we have come to call the Grays, allegedly came to be at roughly six in the evening on April 25, 1954 at Holloman AFB. As a consequence of this meeting, an agreement was reached that has been referred to as the Greada Treaty. In the Cooper synopsis:

“The treaty stated that the aliens would not interfere in our affairs and we would not interfere in theirs. We would keep their presence on Earth a secret. They would furnish us with advanced technology and would help us in our technological development. They would not make any treaty with any other nation. They could abduct humans on a limited and periodic basis for the purpose of medical examination and monitoring of our development, with the stipulation that the humans would not be harmed, would be returned to their point of their abduction, would have no memory of the event, and that the alien nation would furnish Majesty Twelve with a list of all human contacts and abductees on a regularly scheduled basis.”

Evidently, it didn’t take long at all for them to realize the mistake they had made. He went on to say:

“By 1955 it became obvious that the aliens had deceived Eisenhower and had broken the treaty. Mutilated humans were being found along with mutilated animals across the United States. It was suspected that the aliens were not submitting a complete list of human contacts and abductees to Majesty Twelve and it was suspected that not all abductees had been returned. The Soviet Union was suspected to interact with them, and this proved to be true. The aliens stated that they had been, and were then, manipulating masses of people through secret societies, witchcraft, magic, the occult, and religion. After several Air Force combat air engagements with alien craft it also became apparent that our weapons were no match against them.”

Similar stories come from other sources, such as John Lear:

“… a deal was struck that in exchange for advanced technology from the aliens we would allow them to abduct a very small number of persons and we would periodically be given a list of those persons abducted. We got something less than the technology we bargained for and found the abductions exceeded by a millionfold than what we had naively agreed to.”

At first sniff, this narrative reeks of bullshit. I mean, why would they strike a deal if they were just going to violate it within a year and do what they wanted anyway? With this ultimately needless treaty, they would basically be handing over their advanced technology to the very species they were exploiting, which doesn’t sound like something an advanced intelligence would do. Unless, of course, they only meant to implicate the government, who would certainly lose the public’s respect and so their power over the public if it were to come out that they not only knew of the existence of ETI but gave them the go-ahead to abduct the very citizens it is their duty to serve and protect. Like it or not, they were stuck serving the alien agenda now and couldn’t come out with it to the public without threatening their own power and control.

The Grays also kept them busy trying to reverse engineer alien technology they couldn’t possibly understand, let alone replicate. To paraphrase Stanton Friedman, our efforts would be akin to time-traveling and handing Christopher Columbus an iPhone and expecting him to back-engineer it, though in our case we may have neither the knowledge to back-engineer it nor the materials required to build it. For instance, the memory metal often spoken about in association with the Roswell crash may have been a component necessary to the proper functioning of the craft and it’s certainly nothing we have found or managed to manufacture on earth. Even if we were handed such vehicles as the Eisenhower-alien exchange program suggests, we would have only prized possessions. Irreplaceable tools in our arsenal. Nothing short of absolute necessity would justify their use in anything beyond tightly-controlled test flights in remote areas. It would not pose a threat to the Grays, only feed the government false hope that they might be able to match their technology and have a fighting chance in a war against them. Cooper implied as much:

“Since our weapons were literally useless against the aliens, Majesty Twelve decided to continue friendly diplomatic relations until such a time as we were able to develop a technology which would enable us to challenge them on a military basis. Overtures would have to been made to the Soviet Union and other nations to join forces for the survival of humanity.”

There is also the question as to what the true motives of the Grays really are, of course, and Cooper offered some allegations that provide food for thought:

“Another finding was that the aliens were using humans and animals for a source of glandular secretions, enzymes, hormonal secretions, blood plasma and possibly in genetic experiments. The aliens explained these actions as necessary for their survival. They stated that their genetic structure had deteriorated and that they were no longer able to reproduce. They stated that if they were unable to improve their genetic structure, their race would soon cease to exist. We looked upon their explanations with extreme suspicion.”

As they should have. Abduction researcher David Jacobs suspects a very specific motive with respect to the abductions, and it is for the purposes of colonization — or, as he puts it, planetary acquisition.

There are a limited number of ways by which a biological species which developed on one planet might go on to colonize another planet, planetoid, moon, or asteroid. Watching movies and television shows like Star Wars, Star Trek, Firefly and so on, one might fall into the mistaken assumption that if FTL speed or warp drives were possible we would be able to go from one inhabited planet to another and be fully capable of existing within the atmosphere and other conditions on the planet and that there would be no concern for cross-contaminating one planet with viruses or animal species from another. While convenient for science fiction, this is a strange assumption, especially given that even going from one continent or island to another on earth has resulted in such issues.

An advanced ETI could only colonize another planet in a limited number of ways. They could create artificial Closed Ecological Systems (CES) on the surface or in subterranean cities on such a planet, but they could also utilize this to colonize lifeless worlds or even exist in space stations. If they desired to live in the atmosphere and within the ecosystem of a habitable planet long-term, they would either have to change the conditions of that planet through terraforming (also, and perhaps more appropriately, known as planetary engineering) or, to go the most economical route for long-term colonization of an exoplanet, change themselves to fit the present conditions of the planet through transgenesis. If the research and conclusions of David Jacobs are to believed, the aliens featuring in the mass of abduction accounts seem to be seeking colonization in just this way: to cross human beings with themselves so as to develop a new species that bears a body predominantly human, so as to be ready-adapted to the earth and naturally integrate into the ecosystem, with a neurology, psychology, or consciousness that is predominantly Gray alien.

If this is indeed the case, are the circumstances the same in the other star systems depicted on Betty’s map? Could this be a technique they’ve not only employed in our case, but other star systems as well? Are the Grays colonizing those planets and did they make similar trade deals with those planetary powers? Do they go to a planet bearing an intelligent and technological yet lesser-advanced civilization, ascertain who the powers that be are, confront them and offer advanced technology in exchange for allowing them to abduct members of their population without intervention?

In his book, The Threat, Jacobs describes portions of the four-and-a-half-day abduction experience of Allison Reed, during which she was taken to a room that seemed to serve as a sort of museum filled with “artifacts on shelves along with strange life-sized ‘holograms’ of several beings. Her alien escort explained what these figures represented and why the hybridization was undertaken.” These figures evidently represented previous attempts of the Grays to mix themselves with other planetary species, much as they were attempting to do with human beings now, but each had flaws, the most important of which was their shared sterility. Jacobs described three:

“The first had alien features with distinctive black eyes and a thin body; it also had a distended stomach with boil-like protuberances on it. The next hologram looked more human. He had blond hair and humanlike eyes, but he had no genitals, and his skin was extremely pale, like that of a “borderline albino.” The final hologram was a grouping of smaller beings, about five feet tall. They were very white and Allison received the impression that they were “mentally weak or something.””

Given the three former hybridization attempts shown to Allison plus the one currently being attempted with our own species, it is tempting to speculate that each of these species belong to the other three star systems marked “trade routes” on Betty’s map. It seems possible, even likely, that there is more than one life-bearing planet in at least some of the star systems, however, as this appears a bit too evenly-distributed. In subsequent interviews and lectures, Jacobs adds that due to the vast array of differing descriptions abductees have given for the creatures they refer to as reptilian, this likely represents another former hybridization attempt between the Grays and at least one other planetary species.

Some would claim that this style of “planetary acquisition” would technically not mean that the Grays are colonizing, as the transgenesis would suggest the new species would not even be the Gray species, let alone the specific individuals engaging in the program. As I have written of elsewhere (in UFOs and Recycling Souls as well as in Monism, Dualism, and Eating of the Tree of Life) this is not entirely true. We understand very little about consciousness, but given a long enough timeline and given that we continue on our present technological trajectory, we surely will. Regardless as to whether monism or dualism in the philosophy of the mind proves to hold, there is good reason to believe we will develop what has been called resurrection technology or consciousness-transference technology. A civilization such as the Grays, which are clearly far more advanced than our own, would have mastered this science and technology long ago. Transgenesis may be the means by which they generate optimal bodies native to the planetary ecosystem in question yet custom-made for their alien consciousness.

Sources:
Captured! The Betty and Barney Hill UFO Experience: the True Story of the World’s First Documented Alien Abduction, by Kathleen Marden and Stanton T. Friedman
Beyond My Wildest Dreams, Kim Carlsberg.
– Countless YouTube videos featuring Bob Lazar.
– “Zeta 2 Reticuli: Home System of the Greys?” by Joe LeSearne
The Threat: Revealing the Secret Alien Agenda by David Jacobs
Walking Among Us: The Alien Plan to Control Humanityby David Jacobs
Taken: Inside the Alien-Human Abduction Agenda by Karla Turner
Confirmation: The Hard Evidence of Aliens Among Us? by Whitley Strieber
– UFOinfo.com
Behold a Pale Horse by William Cooper
– “The Secret Government, UFOs, the Alien Problem and the Origin, Identity, and Purpose of MJ-12,” by William Cooper.
– “Eisenhower’s 1954 Meeting With Extraterrestrials: The Fiftieth Anniversary of First Contact?” by Michael E. Salla, Ph.D.

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Aliens and Insects IV: Alien Brains & Telepathic Superorganisms.

At the same time that many in the scientific community maintain that we have no reason to believe extraterrestrials would ever look like us (which is to say humanoid), they paradoxically maintain that such entities would nonetheless think just like us and communicate in a similar vein; interestingly, the accounts of alien abduction seem to indicate a diametrically opposing view. These humanoid, apparently insectival creatures have advanced minds, it would appear, but they seem to be minds quite distinct from our own, and the coexistence of those two facts when held up against the perspectives of comparative neuroanatomy are not as paradoxical as might be commonly conceived.

According to Paul Patton in his December 2008 Scientific American article, “One World, Many Minds: Intelligence in the Animal Kingdom,” as popular as Paul MacLean’s “triune brain theory” may be, it is an overly simplistic and misleading model. Rather than a linear process in which successful developments of the brain are piled atop one another, with modern, non-human species bearing brains that constitute earlier stages, parallel developments have been made, culminating in widely-divergent nervous systems across the animal kingdom. “Substantial cognitive abilities have evolved multiple times, based on differing neural substrates,” he writes.

In the attempts to grasp how different the central nervous system (CNS) of the Grays are from our own, we might turn towards the earthly insects with whom we are familiar, and here we find that they may indeed be quite alien to us.

According to Anna Stockl, the CNS of vertebrates such as human beings operates like a monarchy. It is, in other words, a centralized system, with the brain in the skull governing the body through the dorsal nerve of the spine. Among insects, it’s more akin to a decentralized federation. The CNS is composed not of a spinal cord but of a ventral nerve cord that stretches across the front or bottom of the insect and serves to connect the ganglia — clusters of neurons that function as brains — that occupy multiple areas of the body.

Two of these ganglia reside in the head, and they are known as the supraesophageal ganglion or anterior brain, located behind the esophagus, and the subesophageal ganglion or posterior brain, which resides just below the esophagus. The anterior brain is composed of three lobes: he protocerebrum, the deutocerebrum, and the tritocerebrum, which assimilates data from the other two lobes and connects them to the posterior brain, which in turn connects them to the ventral nerve cord. This nerve cord connects the dual brains in the head to the segmental ganglia, which occupy each segment of the insect body. Functions of those segments therefore have a decent degree of autonomy, which is why a decapitated insect can not only survive for days or weeks noggin-free but can continue to crawl around, fly and fuck as well.

While there are no cases to my knowledge in which someone managed to slice off the head of a Gray alien, I was reminded, in the midst of researching the insect hypothesis, of an online account a friend had me read back in high school that may have some relevance. It was an account by a man named Randy Terpstra who, my research suggests, has since died, and his story is strange, even for a presumably alien experience. I must confess that if there were not particular correlations between his story and my own I might have dismissed them in a reactionary sense (much as it is with respect to Strieber). He described a series of strange events centered around missing time episodes and vivid “dreams” featuring a disembodied voice that only identified himself as a “teacher”. In one of these dreams he found himself in a space engulfed in a pinkish blur before a metallic table, on which he found a creature, presumably dead, fitting the description of the Grays, which the voice tells him is an enemy that he will have to battle with. Terpstra continues:

“He tells me to turn it over. I reach out and push the body onto its side. It is cold and rather damp. It feels like a lizard, leathery and soft. I am looking at the back of the head. There is a hole (oblong) at the base of the neck where it meets the head. The Voice tells me that the creatures have two brains. Anterior and Posterior. (I have since learned that this means front and rear). The creatures use the brains simultaneously. Because of this, it is almost impossible to kill the creatures. If shot, unless shot in both the front and rear of the head, the creature continues to live. One of the brains is dead, but the other continues to carry on. If one of the brains dies, the ‘power’ is now diminished but not terminated.”

He was then told that these two brains are separated by a bulletproof bony plate that divides the brain cavities and are connected by a bundle of nerves that runs through it, and that aside from shooting them in the head from the front and back, the only way to kill them — and it would kill them instantly — was to penetrate the aforementioned hole at the base of the neck at a depth of 3-5 inches with the blade of a knife or perhaps a bullet.

While not all of this may not resonate entirely with what we know of our earthly insects, the parallels are close enough to arouse my curiosity. And while they may have evolved from an insect species, trying to learn about them by studying our own insects may only get us so far — as far as another alien species might get by trying to understand us by studying our simian ancestors, for instance.

If their ancestors were like our insects, intelligence might have dawned in the protocerebrum of the anterior brain. This lobe not only controls vision but contains the higher brain centers known as the mushroom bodies, which is what enables an insect to learn and store short- and long-term memory. The anterior brain can vary within species, however, and in eusocial insects it can also vary in accordance with caste.

Among eusocial insects, the aforementioned decentralized nature of the CNS may extend to the colony as a whole.

Take the Social Brain Hypothesis, which posits that individuals in social species like human beings develop larger brains (or at least larger brain regions that deal with processing complex data) because within the complex social interactions that characterize their society such adaptations have survival value. This may indeed be true for vertebrates such as ourselves, but it does not necessarily extend to insects. Case in point: when researchers elected to study wasps — some of whom are solitary, some of whom live in small groups, and others that live in the most complex colonies of which we’re aware — they found that this hypothesis doesn’t apply to them. The wasps’ reliance on higher brain regions was reduced as they evolved from solitary to more complex societies, and to help explain why this is the Distributed Cognition Hypothesis was developed.

Unlike us social vertebrates, most insect colonies are populated by close relatives. They therefore have a shared interest in carrying on their collective genes and rely upon one another to achieve the end of survival and reproduction, resulting in a highly organized, structurally-complex, goal-directed society in which the individual members are so tightly united that they hardly constitute individuals at all. Instead, the group takes on the collective traits normally ascribed to a singular organism and the “individuals” therein serve as its various functions. They are, in effect, a “superorganism.”

In the simplest, most general way, the reproductive castes serve as the reproductive organs, the sterile workers and soldiers it’s somatic body. This is also why the workers in a eusocial insect colony are frequently compared to the neurons in the human brain. Individually, neurons offer little more than simple, stimulus-response behavior; collectively, however, they form the brain, the emergent intelligence of which puts any individual neuron to shame. Similarly, workers in an insect colony have reduced individual brain power, making the members of a colony dumber than a member of a solitary species, but the emergent intelligence of the colony is superior because they have shared brain power — or distributed cognition.

Insects in a colony are different from neurons in some respects, of course, not least of which due to the fact that they are not physically bound to one another. Instead, cooperation within the insect colonies we are familiar with requires some form of communication, such as pheromones or, as in the case of honey bees, a symbolic dance language. In the case of the Gray Mantodea, that form of communication is undoubtedly telepathy.

In human beings, parapsychological studies seem to indicate that the strongest instances of telepathic communication are found between identical twins (naturally-occurring clones), and then increasingly less between other siblings, other relatives, close friends and married couples, and finally between distant friends and strangers. Aside from genetic and emotional bonds, age also seems to be a factor, which is to say that the younger one is and the closer two people are in age, the more telepathically conductive they are. Following this logic, we could assume that the strongest cases of telepathy would occur between a group of young, closely-related members of the same species and age group, which is precisely what the Smalls appear to be — and that’s leaving alone the fact that telepathy would appear to be their central if not sole means of communication. Given that telepathic effects are rather immediate, unlike the way our familiar insects communicate, there is good reason to think that the superorganism mentality may be more pronounced among the Grays than it is in earthly insects. The benefits and detriments involved in this kind of mentality are therefore also likely to be more pronounced than those which we have otherwise observed.

While they are not eusocial insects, some of the survival advantages of the superorganism mentality can be seen when flocks of birds or school of fish react more quickly as a whole than they do individually. They apparently accomplish this by means of picking up on the visual cues provided by the body language of other members in the group in response to stimuli such as prey or predators. Imagine how this effect might be amplified if such creatures used telepathy as their main mode of communication.

Just as we might fail to understand the Gray Mantodea given our tendency to anthropomorphize, they seem to have difficulty understanding the nature of individuality — and of how things operate among social animals, as opposed to eusocial ones. An easy example would be the plethora of occasions in which they show scenes of global cataclysms to abductees, either on a large screen or directly into their minds telepathically. They then either insist that the abductee must prevent such scenarios from happening or make them believe that these scenarios have already happened and then chastise them for not having done enough to prevent it. Though the objective may merely be to study emotional responses, it still provides some insight into their own psychology. It is as if they perceive the abductee as singularly responsible for the cataclysm; as if s/he could change the collective human perspective on a fucking dime. It reveals that they are clearly incapable of wrapping their bulbous heads around the concept of human individuality and the limitations of our ability to effect such collective change. They talk to an abductee as if they were speaking not to an individual, but an appendage of the human superorganism, implying more than a bit of psychological projection on their part.

In order to foster this superorganism mentality, what would be sacrificed is what human beings would consider our cherished individuality, as it would enable members to serve themselves or their faction rather than the colony as a whole. Individuality and personal liberty would serve as a threat to the security of the colony.

As a consequence, insects only perceive and interact with each other only as collective categories: colony, caste and age. The alien society, which seems to be merely a more complex rendition of the familiar social structure of the eusocial insect colony, also seems to embrace this psychology. Even in terms of clothing or other adornments, there are no individual differences — only ones that reflect the caste in question. Rather than providing personal names, they identify themselves only as their roles: The Doctor, The Leader, The Teacher, Scientists.

It appears that they may lack autobiographical memory — the life narrative composed of episodic and semantic memory which supports the sense of personal identity experienced by human beings. While we cannot know if this is the case with insects, it would certainly appear to support the superorganism mentality.

In his book, The Threat, Jacobs offers some abductee testimony suggesting that this is true, in the very least, with respect to the hybrids. “According to abductee reports,” he writes, “the hybrids have no memories of parents, siblings, family life, nurturing, or other emotionally important events that bond humans to each other. In a long conversation, one late-stage hybrid told Reshma Kamal that his memories were quite different from hers.”

The hybrid explained to her that while he has met his parents and understands who they are, he lacks the capacity to bond with them, to look back on personal “memories and histories” and recall things such as “picnics and parties” shared with them. Instead, his understanding is limited to medically-oriented “files” regarding his genealogy. He is a “robot,” he explained, in the sense that a robot is, as Reshmal put it, “something that you create and it does what you want it to do and nothing else.” Or as he put it, hybrids such as himself are “just here to do work” and the aliens are “in total control of everything.” Given that the hybrids operate alongside Grays as members of the worker caste and this sort of mentality supports identification with the group, we might assume this is also the case for the Grays themselves.

It should be noted, however, that while this superorganism behavior is seen quite clearly in the Smalls, later stages in development do seem to introduce more and more individual character. As they develop, they also appear to have more focus and discipline with respect to their personal telepathic abilities, suggesting that the telepathic superorganism effect we observe in the Smalls might constitute a sort of psychological womb out of which they slowly emerge as they develop as individuals; a dominant collective mind that nurtures them until they gain a more independent mind that can control their telepathy.

Despite what seems to me to be clear evidence of this superorganism mentality among the Gray Mantodea, however, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention a major critique of my comparison with it in the past to the “hive mentality” of bees. This came during a relatively brief period of weirdness of a kind that happens periodically in my life in which I had a “conversation” with someone regarding the very hypothesis I’ve attempted to flesh out in this paper. The Conversation either happened on the evening of September 9, 2011 or the following day, and I believe it may have been a half-remembered encounter:

“I remember explaining that the Small Grays seemed, in abduction reports, to be in a subordinate position to the Tall Grays, who in turn also seemed to have an authority: taller, slender beings in cloaks or robes that are often said to look like a Praying Mantis. The person said “Praying Mantis” just before I said it, which indicated to me — with great excitement and enthusiasm on my part at the time, I might add, forcing me to smile and give a little laugh — that they were actually listening to me, taking it all in, on the same page as me and, even better, were apparently well-read on the subject. It went beyond that at the time, however. I remember thinking just after the person said that how weird it was, because it seemed as though he had read my mind. I went on to say that the Mantis species we know on earth have young that do not always look like miniature versions of Mantises, but instead often look like ants, so it was my theory that the Grays were merely the younger versions, the “nymphs” of the taller Mantis beings. They were basically an advanced insect species. I then explained how they also seemed to be part of a “hive mind” like bees, and this is where the person again interjected, this time to express a difference of opinion, feeling that the “bee” analogy was insufficient or misleading.”

On a positive note, if this was indeed a telepathic conversation I had during an encounter that was veiled in one of their telepathic dream-scenarios, he seemed to confirm the heart of the hypothesis: that Grays constitute Mantis nymphs and they’re all an advanced insect species. So far as I can recall, however, he did not detail what was so insufficient or misleading about my bee analogy for the alien mentality. Did he mean the analogy as he understood it, which is to say that it did not fit with his advanced knowledge on both the mentality of the Grays and the mentality of our earthly bees, or did he merely mean to imply that how I personally understood (or misunderstood) the mentality of bees at the time provided an insufficient analogy? And what was a sufficient analogy, in either case?

It would be nice to have a follow-up conversation, is all I’m saying.

***

SOURCES:
– The Andreasson Affair: The True Story of a Close Encounter of the Fourth Kind, by Raymond E. Fowler
– Into the Fringe, by Karla Turner.
– Communion: A True Story, by Whitley Strieber.
– Majestic, by Whitley Strieber.
– Secret Life: Firsthand Accounts of UFO Abductions, by David Jacobs.
– The Threat: Revealing the Secret Alien Agenda, by David Jacobs.
– UFO Hunters, 303: The Greys Conspiracy.
– Inside the ant colony – Deborah M. Gordon
– Ant Colony IQ: Just How Smart is an Ant?
– How Monogamy Made Superorganisms Evolve
– What Is A Eusocial Animal? | Earth Unplugged
– Why the insect brain is so incredible – Anna Stöckl
– Do Social Insects Share Brain Power? Drexel University
– Do Bugs Have Brains? Neuro Transmissions
– Will Alien Life Resemble Life on Earth? Harvard Biologist Jonathan Losos Explains
– Convergent Evolution vs Divergent Evolution | Shared Traits Explained
– Top 6 Examples of Convergent Evolution
– Convergent Evolution speech by Richard Dawkins
– On Extraterrestrials– 3. Insect Nervous System– Why are there so many insects? – Murry Gans– Why Aren’t There Giant Insects?– The Social Brain: Ralph Adolphs at TEDxCaltech– What Happens When You Put A Spider And A Fly In A Vacuum Chamber? Will They Survive?
– How bees use swarm intelligence to make decisions
– How do insects become queens or workers?

Aliens and Insects III: Alien Exoskeletons.

According to David Aguilar in the third episode in the third season of UFO Hunters, the Grays would seem to have come from a world with less gravity than the earth, where being bipedal would be easier and where their bodies would grow to be tall and slender yet remain capable of propping up their gargantuan gourds. Growing hair might also he selected against in such an environment, as it would float around, obscuring their vision. We know that if humans were to exist in a low gravity environment we would need to keep up a rigorous exercise regimen, otherwise muscle tone and bone density would be lost, so evolution may have selected for alternatives — such as, perhaps, an exoskeleton.

The uniformly-colored, featureless “skin” of the Grays reveals no signs of a skeletal system or musculature, which would make sense if they were insects. Insects don’t have skin and bones, they have an exoskeleton composed of three main layers. There is the uppermost layer, known as the integument, beneath that the epidermis, and then the basement membrane. According to Jacobs, the “skin” of the small Grays bears “a soft rubbery or plastic quality.” Perhaps not coincidentally, in larval form the uppermost, integument layer of an insect’s exoskeleton is a hard though lightweight and pliable outer cuticle. The integument undergoes a process called sclerotization in insect adults in which it darkens and toughens, though remains flexible, perhaps corresponding to the reported “rough, leathery feel” of the Talls. Sometimes the Talls are also described as having wrinkles; similarly, with some spiders, a new exoskeleton is often wrinkled as the old exoskeleton could not provide enough space for the larger replacement growing beneath it.

For Grays in general there is also, despite the lack of genitalia, an often strong sense of the gender of a particular being. Both female and male genders have been encountered in every caste, as a matter of fact, including the mantis levels. If it is not mere projection on the part of the abductee, it might stem from the fact that while still at the stage of the Gray nymphs they cannot reproduce as they have not yet developed the plumbing required, sex is already determined and plays a role in their neurology, if nothing else, and so is consequently conveyed in their telepathy. Only in their eventual adult, imago form as the alien Mantis might they have developed naughties and be capable of reproducing.

Their exoskeletons also act as natural armor, protecting them from the environment, and even from the degrees of pressure in a vacuum chamber that would make mammals such as ourselves explode. These exoskeletons may also be advantageous for space travel. As Strieber references in Communion and others have referenced elsewhere, there was a November 29, 1983 letter written by physicist Dr. Robert I. Sarbacher, who was a consultant with the US Department of Defense Research and Development Board, to William Steinman that dealt with what he allegedly knew secondhand regarding recovered alien spacecraft and bodies. In this letter, Sarbacher stated:

“There were reports that instruments or people operating these machines were also of very light weight, sufficient to withstand the tremendous deceleration and acceleration associated with their machinery. I remember in talking with some of the people at the office that I got the impression these ‘aliens’ were constructed like certain insects we have observed on earth, wherein because of the low mass the inertial forces involved in operation of these instruments would be quite low.”

This exoskeleton may even explain why the Grays, despite their popular name, also come in different colors — pitch black, pale white, and in some cases even blue, at least according to early results of cross-analysis of abduction reports from MUFON’s Abduction Transcription Project. One means of natural camouflage the aliens may share with some species of the earthly Mantis is the ability to adapt the color of their exoskeleton to their surroundings. Called ‘fire melanism’, such Mantis species have the capability to change the color of their exoskeleton after their next molt so that, for instance, they can adapt to the black color of scorched earth rather than remaining green, which served as sufficient camouflage in their formerly grassy habitat. The Transcription Project also revealed that the rooms observed by abductees when aboard the craft were white, gray and, more rarely, black. Might the differing colors of the Grays be related to their prolonged stays on board craft with interiors colored in those particular ways?

Another characteristic that the exoskeleton might explain is their apparent lack of breathing. There is no expansion and contraction of the chest, Jacobs tells us, and during Mindscan abductees do not report feeling or hearing the inhalation or exhalation of air. It may only be that they don’t breathe in the way in which we do. A human being breathes by inhaling air in through the lungs, from which it is circulated throughout the body in the blood. Insects have no lungs, breathing instead through tiny holes in the sides of their exoskeletons known as spiracles, which open and close as the abdominal muscles expand and contract. From the spiracles, the air is taken through small tubes known as the trachea which carry the oxygen to the insect’s tissues.

If they are insects and breathe through spiracles, it may also give us another hint as to the nature of their home planet. The upper limit on the body size of an insect is dictated by the degree of oxygen in the atmosphere due to the limitations of the spiracle form of breathing. The current oxygen composition of the earth’s atmosphere presently rests at around 21%, for instance, and so could not support insects the size of the Grays. In earth’s past, however, Lady Gaea was a real airhead. During the Carboniferous period, some 359.2 million years ago, the earth’s peak oxygen content came to be roughly 35%, permitting gigantism for both the amphibians and arthropods, with the largest insects being about a foot and a half long. Due to their even larger size, if the Grays are insects they would have to have come from a planet with a higher oxygen content than the earth — even during the Carboniferous period. They may have evolved their tiny-slit “nostrils” and “mouths” to compliment their spiracles; they may even actually be extra large spiracles. While some may speculate that even if they had extra spiracles this placement in the areas of the nostrils and mouth would be unlikely, convergent evolution could potentially explain such correspondences.

These spiracles may even help to explain how they can exist within earth’s atmosphere, at least for a limited amount of time, without any apparent need for breathing apparatuses. The lowered oxygen, one would think, would have to be an obstacle, but there may be a way around this given their insect nature. It is known that by closing their spiracles and trapping air some insects can exist in an underwater environment for extensive periods; by an analogous process, perhaps the aliens can exist for extensive periods in an environment of depleted oxygen by “holding their breath.”

What a correspondence with earthly insects cannot explain, however, is how they eat and excrete waste, as Grays lack the typical insect mouthparts and even the antennae with which they would touch and smell their food. Perhaps they are in part plantlike, as others have suggested, as this would resonate to some degree with the spiracles already discussed.

Akin to an insect’s spiracles, every part of a plant respires or “breathes” through microscopic pores, which allows it to inhale and exhale in a process known as diffusion. In addition to breathing, however, plants also use these pores to acquire the ingredients necessary to manufacture their own food. Chlorophyll, which gives plants their green color, collects sunlight and carbon dioxide from the leaves as well as the water, nutrients and minerals that the roots have collected from the soil. From these ingredients the chlorophyll, through a process known as photosynthesis, whips up some simple sugars to serve as sustenance and poops the waste product, oxygen, out through its pores and into the air. Might it be possible that the Grays manufacture their food internally in an analogous process, not only breathing through their exoskeleton but drawing in the ingredients for sustenance and excreting waste in a similar fashion?

There have been peculiar reports regarding them entirely submerged in tanks of liquid without any evident breathing apparatus, like enduring, full-body baptisms. In one such case, an abductee was told that they were “eating and sleeping.” In addition, alien-looking young are described as being “painted” with a substance as a form of nursing.

Many abductees have also described being thrown into such vats of liquid themselves, as David Jacobs describes in his book, Secret Life. In Chapter 6, Jacobs details some specialized and “irregular” procedures that some if not most abductees never bring up, while others report being subjected to them continuously. One such procedure he calls the Breathing Pool. Here, an abductee is made to submerge themselves in a tank or swimming pool filled with a fluid and breathe it is as they would the air, and they find success in this endeavor. Jacobs describes the liquid as clear, resembling water, and that after the experience, the abductee is often but not always dried off. The single experience Jacobs offered as an example in the book — and all subsequent ones, as it was never mentioned again — was that told by abductee James Austino under hypnosis regarding an experience he had in 1988. An adolescent hybrid urged him to get into a big, ovular pool filled with greenish, nearly luminescent fluid of viscous consistency. Despite his initial resistance, after she slowly descends and stands in the pool up to her chest he ultimately submits to her insistence. He describes it as being body-temperature and inducing a sort of numbness. She then tells him, “Just lay back, and relax,” and then he then sits, sinks down about four to five feet to the bottom, and begins to breathe in this substance. She then pulls herself out of the pool and he blacks out.

Some time after I had first read Jacob’s book and the aforementioned experience, I came across an associated abduction account on YouTube. It was by a man who told of a very strange and intriguing experience, even for an an alien abduction. Interestingly, like James Austino’s experience, it occurred sometime in 1988. He recalled the experience in spurts, blacking out for a period of time before finding himself in another strange circumstance in an apparently ongoing sequence of events. Despite his apparently limited knowledge of the phenomenon, in the midst of his experience, in another period between coming to and blacking out, he described his own rather haunting experience with such a Breathing Pool.

When he awoke this time around, he described how his found himself naked in shiny, metallic, funnel-shaped pool roughly twenty yards wide and of considerable depth. It was filled with a greenish-black, gel-like fluid. With him were at least fifteen other captives, and he had the impression that some of them had been here for years. All were screaming in panic and most engaged in futile escape attempts. The fluid made the surface so slick that it made you slip if you made any effort to exit the pool, though gaining any ground appeared to be a futile effort anyway. He described one man who, despite constantly getting closer to freedom than the rest, would be hit by some beam of light that would send him back in. He found this man’s efforts to be utter madness, all too aware that even the guy managed to escape the pool and the beam there was simply nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Someone — though he was unable to recall who — assured him that there was nothing to be afraid of and that if he submerged himself he could not only breathe the gel but eat it, digest it, and dispose of it in the natural manner.

He described, in other words, the fluids capacity to serve as a self-recyclable substitute for air and sustenance. If it works for humans, perhaps this is what the aliens rely on: their one-stop, self-recycling, food-court-and-restroom combo.

Between Green and Violet.

Awareness: the core,
the white light
of the soul, the observer,
the witness, my third
person perspective:

ajna,
my pineal gland:
in spirit,
if nothing more.

Triangulate…

Consciousness: the prism
of awareness,
breaking that white light
of the soul

into: moods, states,
frequencies,
psychic spectra

within which state-specific,
mood-dependent
memories
and consequential identities
are forged.

Fractured.
Split.

Shards.

Puzzle pieces
broken, dissociated,
beneath, through: a light,

each psychic island
expressed, manifest
in wildly, widely
varying intensities,

constantly shifting,
oscillating…

And where along
this continuum
do

I

reside?

Somewhere between green
and violet,

according to her,
my Jungian Sophia,
my Native American
Spider Woman,
Spider Grandmother,

but not quite blue:

so either
cyan or indigo.

Show me the spectrum,
blessed alien:
explain classification issues.

Her body light
is green,

so maybe we resonate,
share a station,

or maybe I’m a mix
of purple and red,
a body light of indigo,
a step away
from violet,

from wrapping
up this work,
the end of this road
of the soul,

my next
turn destined to set
my future precedent,
a significant step

dictating
the ongoing
World Line of my soul.

Wish that Nimi
would let me know.

So long
here, wondering,
should I just wait
and stay

here, and if not, my Teacher,
where should this
confusing-shade-of blue,

perplexed
Artist

fucking go?

Never will I have faith
again: trust
is kaput.

No.
Not at all your fault.

In any case, m’lady
I could use
the input.

The Nature of Child’s Play.

“Over the last couple of years, the photos of me when I was a kid, the ones that I never wanted old girlfriends to see… well, they’ve started to give me a little pang of something — not unhappiness, exactly, but some kind of quiet, deep regret. There’s one of me in a cowboy hat, pointing a gun at the camera, trying to look like a cowboy but failing, and I can hardly bring myself to look at it now… I keep wanting to apologize to the little guy: ‘I’m sorry, I’ve let you down. I was the person who was supposed to look after you, but I blew it: I made wrong decisions at bad times, and I turned you into me.”
— Nick Hornby, High Fidelity.

“Well, then get your shit together. Get it all together and put it in a backpack. All your shit. So it’s together. And if you gotta take it somewhere, take it somewhere. You know, take it to the shit store and sell it, or put it in the shit museum. I don’t care what you do, you just gotta get it together. Get your shit together.”
— Morty, Rick & Morty.

Towards the end of my high school career, when I finally went to see a psychologist regarding the strange memories and experiences that had come to envelop my life, I did so with some trepidation. My limited experience with social workers, psychologists, and psychiatrists had suggested to me that they could have just as easily been patients, and I feared this guy may just serve to reinforce my opinion. It turned out I was wrong. He was intelligent, passionately interested in the subject matter, and seemed to have a firm footing on more than one reality at a time. Though part of me was quite happy that he wasn’t judgmental, he seemed very careful about revealing any thoughts he had on my experiences. I knew I had to corner him, and I did, insisting that he tell me what he thought my flashback regarding the Doctor was all about.

This was a flashback that occurred somewhere on the bridge between 1994 and the following year. By that time I had remembered a wide variety of strange incidents and odd dreams, but it was nothing like what happened that evening. Unable to get any shuteye, I had been staring at my lava lamp while in bed and it suddenly seemed to have almost psychedelic effects on my vision, which was waving like the surface of a pond. When my eyes landed on a book on the shelf attached to my bed, a book I have yet to read — War of the Worlds, by HG Welles — I was instantly somewhere else, somewhen else. Later, when I would read Kurt Vonnegut’s book, Slaughterhouse Five, I was instantly reminded of the intense flashbacks I began having that evening. It wasn’t just remembering, it was reexperiencing.

Despite the length, this is the most condensed version I can muster. In this flashback, I had re-experienced hiding beneath my bed around five or six years of age. This I determined due to the leg braces I was wearing and the fact that I had worn them for a little under a year when I was a kid. From beneath the sheets and blankets hanging over my bed, I watched these creatures, some of whom had three toes, as their feet pitter-pattered across the carpet. They seemed to be going through things in the room, picking things up and examining them. Afraid they would eventually find me, I tried to scoot myself even further under the bed, but one of my braced legs hit a large box my parents had my sisters and I always keep there. It contained our drawings, report cards, and other such things. This not only made my leg abruptly jut out from beneath the bed, but made a loud noise for added effect. I winced and the silence in the room was deafening. When I finally opened my eyes again, I saw the feet and legs of one of the creatures standing by my braced leg, reaching down three, long, tan-colored fingers to touch it. Instantly it reminded me of the closing scene in the 1950s film War of the Worlds, which was my favorite movie at the time.

Certain for some reason that they would make me forget, with determined eyes I scanned this creature from his feet to his face so that one day, when my talents were good enough, I’d be able to draw him. I have in the years since, but I can never seem to get it right. I do know that he had eyes akin to those of a human’s, which is to say a white sclera, a yellow or brown iris, and a black-as-death pupil. His had a pug nose and his face was etched with deep wrinkles. His most memorable feature, however, was a long, deep-set, almost cartoonish frown.

Upon meeting his eyes, we were suddenly communicating mind-to-mind. They were scientists, I understood, and he was The Doctor. He was very old, very wise, and in some way served as a grandfather to me. After this, which seemed to be a form of internal yet interpersonal dialogue, I next found myself in a setting that seemed to be my room, but not quite. I was sitting down by my bed, looking up at the Doctor, though now he was different. He wore glasses that magnified his eyes instead of bearing eyes that were naturally that size, as was the case before. He wore a long white lab coat, had a stethoscope around his neck, held a clipboard and his cartoonish frown was inverted into a Cheshire grin. He told me that they just needed to run some tests, that this was just a check-up.

As he said all this, he seemed to be standing in front of me in a way that suggested he was purposely obscuring something, but all I could make out from behind him were bright lights, indecipherable chatter and a lot of activity a short distance away in my room. I also couldn’t ignore my growing suspicion that this was all a sort of dream we were sharing, one that he was sort of shaping into a false memory or cover-story.

It was an incredibly real experience, somewhere between a memory and mental time travel into my younger body. I experienced this formerly-forgotten event as if for the first time, and it was only the first of two such flashbacks I’d have that very night at sixteen. As my psychologist and I had been talking about the Doctor flashback, however, it was this that I so desperately wanted his opinion on, so I kept badgering him.

Finally, he let out a reluctant, “I think you had a confrontation with your Shadow.”

Though I knew what he meant, I had but a limited understanding of the concept. Before I had met him I had come across references to Carl Jung in my reading but had never read the words of the man himself. Around twenty years of age, I became rather obsessed with the ideas I found in The Portable Jung, however.

Jung referred to the total personality of an individual as the psyche, which he then broke down into three levels that constantly interacted with one another. The conscious mind, sensibly enough, would constitute everything we’re aware of at the moment. It’s the only sector of the psyche we ever experience directly. Regardless as to whether we have a present sensory experience, remember something or have a dream, we must experience it through consciousness. The personal unconscious is the basement or attic of psyche, the graveyard of the forgotten and repressed or dissociated. It is the giver of dreams and memories, shaper of perceptions, keeper of habitual behavior, passions and tendencies.

He saw yet another level to the psyche, however. Having studied myths from across the world, he saw recurring stories, themes and symbols, and in studying his patients, he saw many of the same themes and symbols manifesting in their dreams, fantasies and behaviors. In an effort to explain this, he posited the collective unconscious, composed of what he referred to as archetypes.

There are two ways of explaining archetypes that make some sense to me, and the first is a useful metaphor. Say that consciousness is a sheet of paper and all of our thoughts, emotions, and memories are iron filings sprinkled atop it. An archetype would constitute a magnet below that paper, arranging those iron filings in a pattern. The pattern of the iron filings provides the only evidence we have of the magnet, however, which we cannot perceive or interact with directly.

Another way of explaining archetypes is to compare them to instincts. They may, in fact, be extensions of them, but even if that’s not the case they serve as a useful metaphor. Upon reading The Portable Jung around twenty years of age, I remember Jung describing how a particular insect was driven to enact incredibly complex behaviors devoid of any training, which was essentially what he saw in his patients. Archetypes may then be seen as a bulk of instincts shared by the species that not only organizes behavior into specific patterns but also governs psychological forms and processes. As a consequence, they manifest not only in our behaviors and relationships but also in the realm of the imagination as well: our personal dreams, projections, hallucinations and delusions as well as in our literature, artwork, myths and religions.

While the manifestations differed from culture to culture and from individual to individual, they did so under certain constraints and in accordance with certain guidelines akin to how instincts function. Like instincts, archetypes are not learned but inherited, not personal but the legacy of our species. Like instincts, they cannot be directly observed, only inferred by their influence, their manifestations, how they arrange behavior and symbolic imagery. Unlike instincts, however, at least as popularly conceived, they influence not only behavior but psychology. It seems to me, as it did when I first read it, that archetypes are really the logical extension of instincts. Why wouldn’t they structure and animate the mind as they inspire and structure behavior?

In any case, Jung argued that these archetypes had a huge influence on the life of every individual and we must gain an understanding of them. To grow, to evolve as individuals, we must make the unconscious conscious, we must expand our consciousness. He warns us not to ignore the archetypal manifestations or to identify with them, but to become aware of them, to subject them to analysis.

All archetypes have a bipolar nature, which is to say they have within themselves what we might categorize as positive and negative qualities. Each archetype is also paired with a polar opposite, or shadow, and their relationship is one of interdependence. Whatever archetype we embody and personalize becomes our Ego, then, which casts its corresponding Shadow into our unconscious minds. The Shadow is essentially the anti-ego, serving as a collection of all we have repressed or have failed to bring out of latency in our conscious personality. We all bear both archetypes, but the degree to which each influences us varies in each individual and over time — and to have an excess of either is to live a life out of balance.

If the Doctor really was my shadow, then, at least at that point in my life, what kind of shadow was he — to what archetype did he correspond? If he constitutes an archetype at all it would by necessity be the Senex, which is Latin for old man. In his positive form, he often manifests as a mentor, wizard or shaman. Merlin, Obi Wan and Yoda are all often-cited examples. Disciplined and wise, he has often come from a distant, foreign land to offer knowledge and guidance. In his negative form, he takes the form of a tyrant, hermit or ogre who is bitter, brutal, greedy and stubbornly resists change. Rigid thinking, strict rules, harsh discipline and hierarchy are emphasized. He’s concerned with time, tradition and science. Prone to taking things seriously, he seldom if ever laughs or seems to enjoy himself. He is cold and distant, associated with depression, winter and death. With his frown, his interest in science, his status of a doctor, his claim that he was both wise and old to the extent of centuries and his clearly alien nature, the Doctor fit the negative end of the Senex polarity a bit too close for me to ignore.

Whether I was projecting the Senex onto the creature or the creature was purely a manifestation of my diseased mind is up for grabs, but at the archetypal level it doesn’t change the insight this might offer me about myself. Nimi, the female alien who used to come and visit me, typically at night, once told me that I was an Artist, that art was my “work.” If I am an Artist, it makes perfect sense that the Doctor, leader of his team of Scientists, would have served as a manifestation of my shadow. I am more creative and emotional; he is more logical and intellectual. As I said earlier, opposite archetypes attract — and Senex would serve as the shadow or antithetical archetype for the archetype Jung called Puer Aeternus, or the “eternal boy.”

Appropriately, the Puer is the predominant archetype when we are young and it focuses on play, as it is through play that we experiment, explore, and ultimately discipline our mind, develop our imagination, master our body and adapt to our environment. The Puer also has a bipolar nature, of course, and at the positive end of the pole you have the Divine Child, reflected in the mythical birth stories of figures such as Heracles, Horus, Cupid, Zoroaster, Moses, Christ, Krishna, and the Buddha. It can manifest as an adult with childlike qualities like Raymond from Rain Man, or a child with adult-like qualities like Calvin from the Calvin and Hobbes comic, Linus of Peanuts fame, or Allie Keys from Steven Spielberg’s 2002 Sci-Fi Channel miniseries, Taken. Despite coming into this world weak, vulnerable, and dependent on others to satisfy his needs, the Divine Child is powerful in that he attracts the attention of others, inspiring them, bringing joy, wonder and hope for the future. In its positive form, the Puer brings joy and wonder. He is optimistic and fun-loving, curious and creative, idealistic and insightful.

He is also fertile with possibilities and rich with potential, but this is but a temporary condition in our youth by necessity. Jordan Peterson explains that we have more neural connections at birth than we do at any other time in our lives, but that in that state we are essentially low resolution, latent potential. We contain possibilities and probabilities but are nothing for certain at all. Just within two years, however, we lose most of those connections, which he describes as akin to dying into your childhood personality. This is just the first period of neurological pruning we will experience as we grow, a process in which neglected associations are snipped away and only those that have been repeatedly reinforced remain. Use it or lose it: this is evidently how the brain develops what Huxley referred to as it’s “reducing valve.” With each brush-fire of the brain, the dead wood is burned away and our perceptions and character narrow further, specializing, adapting to the specific environment at hand.

As we develop, we come to see things increasingly less as objects and more as “shadows,” as Peterson puts it, though I think Colin Wilson hit closer to the mark when he used the word “symbols.” These symbols are only complex enough to let us do what we need to in order to survive and achieve our goals, little to nothing more. They are mental maps of sufficient detail: no more, no less. In terms of personality, our character becomes more solidified, which is why the hands that mold us when we are still soft are so influential. We further develop a relatively narrow set of unconscious and automatic programs triggered by familiar stimuli, or what Wilson refers to as the Robot Function. It happens again at the end of adolescence, between sixteen and twenty, where you die into the specialized, adult personality into which you are reborn with senses fine-tuned to your surroundings. When approaching adulthood, you settle on one role to the exclusion of all others. You adopt an apprenticeship, and so enter into an extremely narrow and limited training period that develops the appropriate skills. You become more competent at a specific set of things but become largely blind to all else.

Once we’ve adapted to life, after we’ve died to ourselves to do so more than once, we achieve the last half of life. We become the Senex. It is here that Carl Jung thought the proper path in our ongoing development was to come out the other side, that the head of the serpent had to swallow its tail. To adopt the positive qualities of the Senex, the old man must rediscover the child he once was and left behind and reintegrate him into his character. His work now involves opening old doors and rediscovering the world again, accessing new possibilities and regaining his capacity to play. He finds his source of enthusiasm, peace, creativity and joy for life. He not only gets to be what he has earned but regains the potential of the child he was forced to abandon in the process.

In Zen Buddhism, there is a concept known as Shoshin, or “beginner’s mind,” which is essentially a state in which you regain your lost sense of virginity to experience. Free of preconceptions, you approach something in a very present, open and enthusiastic manner. A much-quoted line from Shunryu Suzuki’s book, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, summarizes it nicely, explaining how “in the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, in the expert’s mind there are few.” This has clear ties to the positive aspects of the Divine Child and how an adult may integrate that aspect of themselves back into their personality.

This is not, however, the only form and path of the puer, nor is it the one most familiar to me, as I shamefully discovered months ago and has finally begun to set in. It was unnerving to watch a YouTube clip of Jordan Peterson profile the Peter Pan personality type. With every following word, I felt my wince tightening, my heart dropping further, my body sinking deeper into the sofa. My hand went to my forehead as if I were attempting to hide my face from someone in my empty apartment. With every following word, it became increasingly freaky, increasingly clear that he was talking about me. It was the story of the immature man-child, the old infant.

Pan is Greek for “everything,” which is appropriate enough, Peterson tells us, as he is the boy who refuses to grow up. He passionately strives to maintain the latent potential of childhood and resist the actuality of adulthood. This is largely due to his only available adult role model, Captain Hook, who is being chased by a crocodile with a clock always tick-tocking away in its belly. This Peterson refers to as the dragon of chaos, time and death, residing beneath everything. It has already bitten off his hand, in which place he has put the hook that earned him his name, and now the tick-tocking croc has got a taste for him. This, he explains, is a metaphor for what happens when you get older: time keeps biting off pieces of you and sooner or later, it will fulfill its destiny and devour you entirely. Just as a sense of mortality can spawn in some people, this circumstance with the croc traumatizes Hook so much he tries to increase his sense of control over everything, exerting power through cruelty, and so becomes at once a coward and a tyrant.

Seeing Hook for who he is, Peter Pan understandably refuses to end up that way, generalizes Hook as a characterization of adulthood as a whole and so naturally elects to extend his own childhood indefinitely. He flies off to Neverland, a place that doesn’t exist, to become King of the Lost Boys, which Peterson describes as a band of losers who can’t get their act together. Then one day it seems that his Shadow (which Peterson never seems to mention, despite being a fan of Jung and despite some clear correlations with the archetype of the same name) has somehow become detached from him and led him to London, into the bedroom of Wendy. She proves to be a mature girl that accepts her mortality and wants to have children one day. He sacrifices a potential relationship with Wendy, a real girl, however, and continues to content himself with Tinkerbell, an imaginary substitute, essentially the Fairy of Pornography, as Peterson suggested.

Though I’ve never read or heard it serving as an example, I think Rob Fleming, the lead character in Nick Hornby’s 1995 novel High Fidelity (and the subsequent 2000 film), certainly qualifies as a puer. There were two lines in that movie that articulated what Peterson’s saying here in a different way. One involved keeping options open to ensure you can always back out and never get trapped in something; the other, his realization that committing to nothing constitutes suicide by small increments.

A man in the grips of this shadow aspect of the puer aeternus detests restriction and oppression and values liberty and independence. He covets individuality and personal liberty. Individual freedom to the fullest extent. Unrestrained instinct, chaos and intoxication excite him. Limitations, restrictions and oppression are intolerable. He refuses the call to adventure into maturity, shying away from adulthood. Fearing commitment, this emotional adolescent forever extends his “temporary” life because he fears that in making a move he might lose himself and be caught in a trap of a career or imprisoned in a marriage.

Peterson emphasizes the fatal flaw in Peter Pan’s presumptions: you grow up whether you want to or not. Though you can postpone maturity in our culture without suffering an immediate penalty, Peterson stresses, the penalty accrues, and then when it finally hits, it hits much harder. You can be lost and clueless at 25, as it’s acceptable that you’re just trying things out at that age. When you’re instead in your 30s or 40s, people tend to be less understanding. You a have become a 40-year-old King of the Lost Boys, a man-child, an old infant, a living corpse of a child. So you might as well manifest some of that potential in a particular direction and choose to become something as opposed to nothing.

I’m 39. I’ll be 40 this November. Many who know me would undoubtedly say quite confidently that this is me in a nutshell. Since shortly after my high school career came to a close in 1997, I began referring to adulthood as the 13th grade and arguing that adults did not, in fact, exist. What we took to be adults were just children wearing masks, putting on costumes and trying to play the roles the culture tells them to play. They aren’t mature adults, they’ve just achieved that state of “seizure” a child experiences when playing a game of “as if,” as Joseph Campbell has put it, though not in this context. They mistook the game for reality, their masks for their true and original face, their roles for their souls. I always refused to do any of that. I opted out.

My most recent experience on psilocybin mushrooms seemed to communicate, among other things, that reality was a sort of multifaceted illusion, sort of a system of games, and the appropriate response was not to forfeit but to play. This resonated with the “child” theme that has followed me throughout my life and took in a rather life-like quality in the context of my strange experiences just shy of two decades ago. The ultimate message in the psilocybin experience was to play the game we call society or culture, to try and make this ride a meaningful one, to take these games seriously while simultaneously keeping in mind that it was all illusion and was ultimately of no consequence.

Now I find that the observations of those such as Jung and Peterson seem to suggest that it is futile to forfeit the game anyway, for in doing so you turn into precisely what I have become: an old infant, a man-child. Peter Pan in the flesh.

As additional reinforcement, there remains the fact that I’m still not convinced that a single, actual adult exists on earth. I still think our game is essentially stupid, but I am beginning to regret not having taken the game seriously, not choosing a role to play and having time force me into a rather pathetic and meaningless one. I’ve resisted intimate relationships, kept friends and family at an arm’s length, and have remained in an extended “temporary” job more suitable for high school kids. Fast food should serve as a sort of “scared straight” program to inspire kids to go to college and make something out of themselves so they don’t have to suffer this fate into their forties. For some, it’s worked out just fucking dandy; evidently, it has failed to work for me to this point. I’ve forfeited the game and remain here in a fast food McNeverland just because I’m afraid to play the role of the adult.

I should have identified an appropriate adult role for myself right out of high school, but I was too wrapped up in the craziness of what had happened, too depressed and anxious, too damned undisciplined and unstructured. I thought that of myself even then. I could have finished college when I finally went in my thirties, but the crippling anxiety that shot through the roof when I again attempted public speaking paralyzed me and I fled. I could have been a master of the visual arts and writing by now, translating what is in my mind more effectively. I might be living off my passions and expressing myself through play as a way of life.

I fucked up.

After enough sessions, the aforementioned psychologist gave me a homework assignment: to master the mundane. He told a tale of students going off on a vision quest, receiving a profound one, and returning to their master, excited for the next step, invariably disappointed when the master told them to chop wood and carry water. I needed to have my feet planted firmly on the ground, he told me. I needed a career, friends, a girlfriend. What he was saying makes more sense now than ever: I needed to go through the process Peterson described. And I didn’t, not really, and here I am, two decades later, with an inner child deserving of an outer adult to nurture it — an outer adult I have I have utterly failed to develop and provide.

Thought-Talk Monologue Voice-Over.

Some might say
that you never existed
in the first place,

but your reality was cemented
in me through the nature
of our conversations.

Just as they use
verbal communication
atop nonverbals,

you use subjective still-frames
and mental motion pictures
complemented

by a thought-talk
monologue
voice-over.

Imagination
is your telepathic
nonverbal.

You’re the best voice
that’s ever been
in my head.

Telepathy and Eye Contact.

“When eye contact between two people is initiated and maintained, an invisible energetic circuit is established between the two participants, dissolving the barriers that ordinarily separate them from each other, drawing them ever closer into a shared awareness of union.”
— Will Johnson, The Spiritual Practices of Rumi: Radical Techniques for Beholding the Divine.

“Portal sits deep within the eye.
The eye of yin’s severity
rewards understanding.”
— Mudvayne, Mercy, Severity.

In addition to my personal experiences, parapsychological research suggests that not only is eye gazing unnecessary for telepathy to occur, but distance between the subjects in question ultimately makes no difference, either. Despite this, eyes certainly hold a particular and peculiar power for me and I continue my struggle to understand why. It doesn’t help matters that aside from the alien abduction literature in general and my own experiences in particular I have only heard of experiences of “ocular telepathy” through two other sources.

Years ago, when I found Koda on the net, he had yet to write his 2004 book Instant Enlightenment: Metaphysical Fast Food, which I have since purchased. His interest in metaphysics was first sparked as a teenager in the early 1970s after experimenting with psychedelics. Since then he has explored the paranormal through conversation and tested out various techniques on his own.

His first attempt at telepathy occurred when he and a friend were alone, smoking hashish, and the technique was a rather basic one: Koda tried to focus on and “send” a letter as his friend tried to “receive” it. After visualizing a letter for about five minutes, his frustration grew and he screamed to himself mentally, at which time his friend screamed it quite verbally. They tried to repeat it several times that day and failed, but now that he had confirmed telepathy to his satisfaction he decided to see what other questions in this area he could lay to rest.

After attempting and accomplishing two other paranormal feats while alone in his bedroom that evening, as he explained it, “My ego was glowing profusely.” Upon going to the local coffee shop and telling some of his friends and classmates, however, he was met with only disbelief and ridicule. Frustrated, he was immediately set on revenge, and he stumbled upon the means some weeks later at that very coffee shop.

They often held staring contests and one girl always seemed to be better than the rest. Whenever he challenged her he would be doing fine for a short while before he cracked a grin and lost the game. He finally thought he would try thinking of a joke during their staring and telepathically “send” it to her to see if he could get her to laugh. It worked, even during the rematch she demanded. When she asked how he had done it and he told her, she confessed to using the same technique.

He then began practicing telepathy far more blatantly — and with a certain vengeance. He would begin the process using cold reading, approaching a friend, looking in their eyes and saying,”Let me see if I can read your mind.” Judging from their facial expressions he could easily determine that they thought he was full of shit, so he told them just that. They would confess it was so but maintained that it proved nothing. Then he would declare that they were now trying to think of something more specific and less obvious. Then he would tell them that they were beginning to wonder if he really could read their mind after all given his accuracy this far. At this point he began to generate fear in them, which as a consequence made them focus all the more intensely on whatever they were thinking about.

Up to this point, it was all cold reading, but it became, in this way, effective foreplay for telepathy. He slowly and systematically built up fear in them that he could read their minds and once that emotional component achieved sufficient intensity — typically when he went one step further and accused them of being terrified that he might be capable of knowing their deepest, darkest secrets — their focus became so locked on their specific, sustained thoughts that, as he put it, they essentially broadcasted their thoughts to him. He would then tell them what they were thinking, which by this point was something very specific, and they would confess that he could do it after all.

He did this daily for two weeks and got quite proficient at it before deciding he had had enough. Not only did he finally feel that he gotten even with them, he could no longer deal with the feelings of absolute terror he generated in them in the process. To make matters worse, even after making it known that he had stopped, people still avoided him for roughly two months.

It was two years before he started investigating telepathy again, this time with the intent of teaching others how to do it. In time he developed what he came to call the “Psychic Window Technique” in which two people engage in prolonged staring or mutual gazing at a short distance. According to Koda, this technique has a few effects.

In the midst of prolonged eye-gazing he would perceive strange illusions in his partner’s face: areas would often appear blurry, darker, or become more pronounced. Sometimes these distortions gave way to full-blown hallucinatory shape-shifting into the faces of strangers, animals, and even stranger things. His partner, it turned out, would see the same illusions, simultaneously and with equal intensity on his own face. He came to call this effect “visual telepathy,” and it is essentially this that first brought him to my attention. It helped explain an incident I’d had on December 15, 2001.

For some time I had been working at a particular fast food restaurant where I also often spent a considerable and embarrassing amount of my time off. A few hours before work I would come in, get my free and essentially bottomless cup of coffee, sit in my booth in the smoking section and spend my free time writing, reading, thinking and, in my idle time, people-watching. It was one of the few unofficial benefits of the job.

On the day in question a guy I had briefly worked with at another fast food job saw me, took a seat at the opposite end of my booth and we engaged in a short conversation. He was there with some guy, perhaps a brother, who had a young kid with him. After we concluded our conversation, he got up and left. I went back to my writing, lost in my own personal trance, having assumed that was the end of it. I could not have been more mistaken. As I have previously written:

“I was jolted… by the sound of something hitting the far end of my booth. Startled and curious, I looked up to find a dome of blond hair poking out from just beyond the end of the table. It was the upper hemisphere of a toddler’s head. One hand of his was grabbing a hold of the end of the table; in the other, he held his cup with the sippy-top. He was looking dead at me, and instead of meeting his eyes I just sort of laughed under my breath, turned my head back down, placed the pen to the page and continued my writing. My eyes didn’t even reach my notebook before I heard it again. Looking back up, I immediately locked eyes with the kid and found myself imprisoned there. The gateways to my mind were being held hostage.

My peripheral vision was suddenly enshrouded in this dark, blurry overcast. While the eyes at the end of the tunnel shared the shadowy opaqueness, it was also possessed with a hyper-vivid quality. This sense of pressure built in my head, as if energy from his eyes were literally pushing into my mind, as if breaking and entering the mind and scanning and downloading personal files. A virtual form of search and seizure or, in this case, a telepathic analogue.

After a moment, he seemed satisfied and strangely amused, looking at me in a creepy way, as if he knew a “dark secret,” as I had later phrased it, that somehow connected him and I. The edges of his lips then curled slowly upward to an unnatural height, almost as if this surreal Cheshire Cat grin belonged somewhere in the twilight betwixt reality and cartoon.

Soon he walked away slowly with who I presume to be my ex-coworker’s friend holding his hand, but my line of sight was still ensnared by his eyes. He held me in his ocular tractor beam until he was out of my line of sight, at which time I felt him release my mind from his psychic grip.

Sinking down into the booth, I was cold and trembling, heart pumping wildly beneath gooseflesh. My eyes felt a strange, widened sort of pain, and it felt as if I could still feel the residual feeling of him being inside my head. I tried to look intensely out into nowhere, to “stare” the feeling out of me as if I were trying to flush out the psychic lines or something.”

According to Koda, this mutuality of experience does not end with visual illusions and hallucinations of the face, either, but extends to emotional states and physical sensations. One can even play a game, he suggests, in which one takes on the role of the blind receiver as the other intentionally generates and attempts to communicate a specific emotion or sensation.

This brings us to the 1998 book, Dancing Naked in the Mind Field, by Kary Mullis, a biochemist who won the Nobel Prize for his invention of the polymerase chain reaction (PCR) in 1983. Despite his accomplishments and credentials he is, to put it mildly, a controversial figure and an interesting character with even more interesting personal anecdotes to relate. In a chapter entitled, “Intervention on the Astral Plane,” he recounts his experience with a woman he introduces as Katherine O’Keefe who had astounding abilities — though I will focus on a single instance he cited which occurred on the day he met her “in the flesh,” in December of 1978. They met first at a Bakery and she then followed him home:

“We talked briefly about nothing much in kitchen and then made love before I knew anything more than her name. She looked deep into my eyes and did something to me with her mind that was ecstatic. It seemed to me as if a little tentacle had reached into my mid-brain and tickled my hypothalamus” (p 93).

In 2002, while I still worked at the fast food restaurant previously mentioned, I had met Angela, a beautiful girl that had some strange experiences of her own. When we worked nights together she used to get up real close to my face and stare at me in the eyes, which I always enjoyed. At one point, while staring at me in that way, she did something akin to what Mullis described. I received this intense, joyous, almost orgasmic high that reached a fever pitch, overwhelming me and causing my field of perception to ripple like the surface of a disturbed body of water.

I had experienced such perceptual distortions before, to be certain, though the emotional component had never before achieved such intensity. One of the first occasions this happened, I was attending a dance with my girlfriend at the time at her school. In passing, as I was walking behind her through a crowded room, I happened to lock eyes with a random girl and the same thing occurred: a rising high with rippling vision. And she had done it at some distance, too.

Koda also writes about telepathically transmitting and receiving emotionally-charged imagery. Having read it for the first time in the process of writing this, it made me think of two experiences of mine.

The first happened during high school sometime after the flashbacks. I was in English class and we were all in our seats working on our papers independently and the teacher was walking up and down the isles, observing us as we worked. Occasionally she would stop and talk to a student in whispered tones. She walked up to my desk, leaned down to talk to me and as I looked up I happened to look her directly in the eyes. It was as if I was sucked into the vortex of her pupils. Inside, I saw things rotting, dripping with a venomous, sewage-like substance, absolutely grotesque, ill and deprived of life. And in an instant I broke the link, looking away from her, totally confused as to what had just happened.

Years later, the same sort of thing happened to me with a kid on April 8, 2002 as I was in a booth at work talking with a Tess, a co-worker and passing romantic interest:

“As her and I spoke, I found myself a bit distracted when this family of four came in. There was a curly-haired brunette lady who I presumed to be the mother; a tall, dark-haired man who’s face I never saw, and two kids. There was a younger one who had blond hair and blue eyes and looked rather frail-looking. His head was kind of big, too. The other was older with dark hair. The mother sat down in the booth behind my friend – booth number five – with the frail boy between her and the wall. Across from her and back-to-back with my friend was the tall man. Across from the blond haired kid and tall man sat the dark-haired boy.

It was the blond that first caught my attention. He was a cute little kid with bright blue eyes, but something about him made me uneasy. Though I was quick to attribute it to paranoia, for a few moments I watched him closely just to be sure. As I was scrutinizing, both kids stood up at once, leaned towards one another from across their table and placed themselves forehead to forehead, like playful bucks locked in a duel, staring dead into one another’s eyes. The mother lightly backhanded the blond kid and told them both to stop.

My attention slipped back to Tess, who was still talking. I had absolutely no fucking clue what the hell she had been saying, and even what she was saying at present seemed to be empty words lost in a jumble. I was getting really, really uncomfortable, and I had no idea why. It all seemed very odd. Somehow, something just didn’t feel right.

Then I looked back up over her shoulder. The dark-haired kid seemed to sense my eyes on him, and he suddenly turned around and looked dead at me and have me a Cheshire Cat grin. When I meet his eyes his pupils grow large, darker-than-dark, and it suddenly it feels as if I’m violently dragged forward and right into them. It’s like we’re in this foggy bubble where we’re only eyes and mind, and only him and I exist, and the rest of the world grows blurred and distorted. It was definitely visual — he looked magnified, abstract and surreal, and I could still see that Cheshire grin, wide and cartoon-like. It certainly wasn’t limited to image, though. It was as if our eye contact had merged us mentally, fused us. I felt as though I was in his mind, or that he was in mine, or that we now shared a mind.

I looked away. It took me a few seconds or so of staring at the table in front of me to realize just what the hell had happened. I knew I wasn’t sleeping, so I couldn’t be dreaming. I wasn’t on drugs. Tess was still talking, but when she looked up at me she did a double-take and then stopped dead in her tracks. I imagine the look on my face must have been about as fucked up as I was feeling. She studied me another moment before asking what was wrong.

Looking at her, staring deep into her eyes, I found that nothing happened. If this was in my head, I wondered, wouldn’t looking into her eyes do the same thing? I looked back at the kid, thinking this might have been something I’d imagined — half hoping, as a matter of fact, that it had truly been something that I’d imagined. Then it all happened again. He goes into my head, grinning again, almost as if he’s a fucking cartoon. If I focused at all, I feared I might be locked there forever; that I might be trapped there and the rest of reality might fade away.

He looks away. While I’m sitting there pale as a ghost and freaking out, he’s sitting there amused. It’s almost as if he thought it was funny that he could do this. He leaned over the table again and whispered to the blond haired kid. Then he turns back to me and does it again, grinning that wide and freaky Cheshire cat grin, eyes as big and black as universes.”

Koda ultimately experienced something far more extreme than me in this respect, however. In the summer of 1984 he writes how he was practicing the technique with a friend of his in a coffee shop when, for roughly six seconds, they both suddenly saw the same detailed scene from the same perspective:

“I was looking directly at a very pretty blond girl about nineteen-years-old. She was perhaps six feet away, facing slightly toward my left as she sat in front of an old-fashion chest of drawers topped with a large, ornate mirror. Her dress was bright yellow, laced up the front and had a white, ruffled collar. She was brushing her long blond hair with very slow strokes, looking rather absent minded, as if she were daydreaming about some hoped-for future. To the left of the dresser was the closed bedroom door. Without knowing why, I was certain there was a hallway on the other side of the door. I knew that toward the right the hall lead to the back door and the barn area, while on the left the hall opened into the living room. On the other side of the hall from the bedroom was the kitchen. I knew where all the pots and pans and lanterns were hung, that the road came in from west in front of the house and most of the fields were in that direction. I knew everything about the place as quickly as my mind could scan the area, including the ‘fact’ that I was in a farmhouse in Southern California in the late 1800s” (p 18).

In rare instances, he says, even thoughts can be communicated — as exemplified to some degree in his initial experience with his friend on hashish and his subsequent mind-reading of his friends and classmates. It also brings us back to Mullis. In a chapter of the aforementioned book entitled, “My Evening With Harry,” Mullis recounts an experience he had in 1978 in San Francisco.

He was sitting at his kitchen table with his friend, Harry, a fellow chemist, who he had not seen in some time. They both drank some beer and Harry smoked a joint. After explaining that he wanted to show him something, he turned to Mullis with wide eyes and asked him to stare into his eyes and do his best not to blink or react if his face happened to change. As Mullis goes on to explain:

“His face did change. It was still Harry, but varieties of Harry I had not seen. Different faces appeared out of the familiar flesh, which now wasn’t so familiar. Some of them were humans I didn’t know, some were not human at all. They were animal. They were all Harry in some way I couldn’t explain. I was seeing things in him that were him but not a part of the life we had shared. It was a little scary, but Harry was somehow underneath it smiling that confident smile” (p 86).

(p 86)

They both admitted to being inside each other’s minds (“the front room — the reception area,” Mullis explained) and then Mullis broke it off for a moment, grabbed two pens and some index cards.

“We were being scientists. We both wrote down a word and then showed each other our cards. It was the same word. Just a word, nothing cosmic, but it was the same, and we knew it would be. We did it again and again, and we knew every time it would be the same. We were watching something — always present but usually dormany — from a privileged position that we had created by putting ourselves together in some way. It was absolutely normal and yet it wasn’t” (p 87).

Recently I came upon some articles regarding eye-gazing experiments that inspired me to try researching the subject again, hoping to find something. While I found no further personal anecdotes, I did happen upon some interesting and relevant studies. In a video by The Liberators International they invited strangers to publicly engage in eye contact for one, whole, psychologically-juicy minute. After the predictable awkwardness produced at the onset, participants reported the very heights of elation. This predominantly emotional experience may have been overshadowed by some haunting hallucinatory phenomena if ocular engagement had continued for ten minutes, however, at least according to experiments conducted by Giovanni B. Caputo, a psychologist at the University of Urbino in Italy.

I was first introduced to Caputo’s work through an article regarding his studies on mirror-gazing in which he found that after perhaps no more than a minute of staring at one’s reflection subjects experienced what he called the Strange-Face-in-the-Mirror Illusion. Features would darken or become more pronounced; people would see, instead of their own faces, those of strangers, animals, or monstrous beings. In further experiments in which he explored the effects of what has been variously referred to as interpersonal, intersubjective or mutual eye-gazing, he found that the same basic manifestations emerged.

In a paper entitled, “Dissociation and hallucinations in dyads engaged through interpersonal gazing,” Caputo described an experiment in which he paired off 20 people (15 women, 5 men) and had them sit facing each other at a distance of roughly three feet in a dimly-lit room where they were instructed to gaze into one another’s eyes for ten minutes. There was also a control group of 20 placed in more or less the same conditions, though in this case they were instructed to gaze at a blank wall. Each group then completed three questionnaires relating to their experience. The initial dealt with dissociative states, the remaining two focused on their experience of the point of focus — the control group’s wall or the face of your partner. The results were astonishing:

“The participants in the eye-staring group said they’d had a compelling experience unlike anything they’d felt before. They also scored higher on all three questionnaires than the control group. On the dissociative states test, they gave the strongest ratings to items related to reduced colour intensity, sounds seeming quieter or louder than expected, becoming spaced out, and time seeming to drag on. On the strange-face questionnaire, 90 per cent of the eye-staring group agreed that they’d seen some deformed facial traits, 75 per cent said they’d seen a monster, 50 per cent said they saw aspects of their own face in their partner’s face, and 15 per cent said they’d seen a relative’s face.”

As explained elsewhere, a cocktail of neural adaptation, psychological projection and facial recognition would explain the surreal effects that can manifest during mirror-gazing; the same would appear to be true for mutual gazing. This would not, at least so obviously, explain why interpersonal gazing would constitute the more intense experience of the two — nor would it begin to explain the seemingly telepathic effects. There are, however, at least two separate studies that may offer some insight. One was conducted by psychologists from the University of Stirling involving 20 five-year-old children. It concluded that those who averted eye contact in order to consider how they would answer questions were more apt to answer correctly than those who maintained their gaze. In another study conducted at Kyoto University in Japan (the results of which were published as “When we cannot speak: Eye contact disrupts resources available to cognitive control processes during verb generation”) participants played word association games of varying complexity while looking at a variety of faces that were either staring or looking away. During eye contact, they did more poorly during the most complex questions.

In both cases, then, it was suggested that cognitive effort and eye contact interfered with one another. While neither study so much as references hypnosis, the conclusions of both appear to resonate well with hypnotist Scott Jansen’s allegation, which is that sustained eye contact generates “psychological pressure” that diminishes conscious thinking. Subliminal or unconscious thought then rushes in to compensate, heightening one’s suggestibility. In other words, eye contact could be seen as the most basic form of the most typical of induction techniques used by hypnotists both on and off the stage: what is variously known as the direct gaze, fixed gaze or fixation method of hypnotic induction. Though this can be used to refer to the subject’s fixation on nearly anything — a candle’s flame, a finger, a swinging watch — among the objects of potential focus are the hypnotist’s eyes. The issue here is that inducing hypnosis does not alone explain the seemingly telepathic effect, as there are no clearly no overt, hypnotic suggestions to follow in the midst of silent, mutual gazing — and they would prove difficult to deliver, too, perhaps, given the interference it evidently has with respect to cognition.

There may very well be nonverbal hypnotic suggestions at play here, however. Consider that eyes are essentially extensions of the brain that not only receive external signals as sense organs but can also transmit the brain’s own signals to other pairs of eyes. When you engage in eye contact with another person you pick up on the expressions on their face and, of course, the movements of their own eyes. While you can consciously perceive the eye movements known as saccades, such as when the person looks back and forth, there are various forms of subtler, involuntary movements that occur even when those eyes remain fixed on your own, and they may also communicate nonverbal information regarding their inner state. By picking up on these external, nonverbal reactions to their own minds we may instinctively decode those signals and replicate the other person’s inner state within ourselves. Hypnotic trance through silent, prolonged mutual gaze would only amplify such effects.

Those effects are certainly there, too, whatever the cause. In a 2015 study published in the journal Neuroimage, 96 volunteers were split into pairs and proceeded to engage in mutual gazing under the watchful eye of fMRIs. It was found that not only did the pairs begin blinking in unison, their brain activity synchronized in the area of the right inferior frontal gyrus. The remaining question is whether these mundane processes are enough to explain the effects of what I, perhaps lamely, have referred to for some time as ocular telepathy. To put it more plainly: if through prolonged mutual gazing you are capable of sharing or exchanging hallucinations, emotions, mental images and even thoughts with your partner, does it remain a viable hypothesis that the aforementioned normal — as opposed to paranormal — processes are the culprit?

Taken as a whole, it seems a stretch. To break it down in specific bits: being capable, in the midst of locked gaze, of reading emotional states through nonverbals and experiencing them as your own — or experiencing them as emotions from an external source, namely that of your partner — is a hypothesis that would be relatively easy for me to accept, especially given what we know regarding our inherent capacity to subliminally and automatically translate body language. When it comes to sharing hallucinations and subjective imagery, however, I am far more skeptical, and when it comes to communicating thoughts — say in the fashion of Mullis and Harry at the kitchen table exchanging those index cards — it seems absolutely absurd.

So how might one explain this?

We know that ordinary sense perception exists. Our mundane senses do not operate in isolation, however, but are in constant concert, influencing one another with the aim of delivering a seemingly seamless sensory experience to consciousness. Smell, for instance, affects taste, as anyone who has had nasal congestion can attest to. Wine tasters swirl the fluid in the glass, take a hearty whiff, and then sip, utilizing all relevant senses as they contribute to a more holistic, mindful experience of the taste.

There is sufficient data in parapsychological studies to suggest that extrasensory perception exists. While we accept the community or senses as a factor for clear reception with respect to the clarity of reception provided by any singular, ordinary sense, we are for whatever reason suddenly prone to amnesia when it comes to exploring the extra-sensorium. Here, frustration and discouragement overwhelm us when we learn that, for instance, telepathy is difficult to isolate with any certainty from other senses — or potential extrasenses — in the laboratory setting. When we do manage to fashion experiments that isolate specific psi, we are frustrated and discouraged when the effect, though exceeding chance, is relatively weak. We fail to consider the fact that in their natural environment, so-to-speak, they may complement and be similarly influenced by a community of extrasenses just as ordinary senses are.

Not only that, but we should expect these two distinct sensory systems to influence one another as well, which would certainly serve to complicate matters. Assuming this is the case, it could go some way to explain what many interpret as a failure in parapsychology, which is to say that any detectable effects are prone to being relatively weak in nature. After all, when we take average individuals and subject them to parapsychological studies with rigid controls meant to remove any evidence of sensory (if not other extrasensory) influence, we are in effect removing their given extrasense (telepathy, in this case) from its natural context and placing it in an isolated, alien environment in which it is not only virgin but necessarily abandoned by its typical support system. We should be astounded that parapsychological experiments reveal any psi influence at all.

Perhaps the coupling of mutual eye-gazing, subliminal cold-reading and telepathy could better explain the phenomena experienced as ocular telepathy. It works so well, its effects are so predictable, immediate and intense in comparison to telepathy as it is ordinarily explored, simply because it utilizes the parapsychological in tandem with the psychological and biological.

No doubt a relevant form of training might help discipline our natural ability to conjure such capacities through the Psychic Window Technique, and the literature which I have referenced in quotes in this article already provide some clues as to what training might be optimal. Consider, for instance, the conversation between Mullis and O’Keefe following the incident in which she seemed, according to him, to have tickled his hypothalamus:

“I asked her what the hell she had done to me.

She replied, ‘You’ve been playing with your mind, but you don’t know anything yet. No one has ever properly taught you.’

I was excited. ‘Will you show me how to do that? What you did?’

‘You already know. You just need to practice'” (p 93).

Though Mullis reported that she did indeed teach him to practice, he gave few details, in the end only offering the reader her diagnosis of his condition. “She told me that I had abilities that I hadn’t tapped into and that I had to learn to quiet myself inside,” he wrote. “I had to learn not to think so much.” Though she never said it outright so far has Mullis himself has conveyed, it seems clear to me that she was talking about meditation — something akin to the Theravada and Tibetan Buddhist practices of samatha and vipassana, which cultivate the power of attention.

There was also a detailed practice offered by Koda, however: the aforementioned “The Psychic Window Technique.” He suggests that you and your partner sit down and face one another at a distance of perhaps two to three feet, sure to maintain “open” body language devoid of defensive barriers like crossed arms or legs in the process. Both of you then decide which mutual “side” will hold your attentions when you stare at one another: either you focus your eyes on your partner’s right eye as they focus on your left or vice versa. It is of vital importance, I think, to focus mutual attention on a mutual “side,” as it makes certain you are both focusing on the eye of the other that is focusing on you. This would also make it indistinguishable from samatha meditation.

Once the “side” is established, you both stare into one another’s eyes unwaveringly, without blinking, all the while trying to expand your field of clear perception to encapsulate the entirety of the face: then the weirdness begins…

Seven Phases & Frog Soup for the UFO.

OF STEPS & PHASES.

I first heard of the Seven Steps to Contact when it was referenced in 5 Things That Will Happen When Aliens Arrive, a Strange Mysteries video on YouTube. It made me tilt my head like a confused dog and lift a brow, too, for despite my obsession and rather thorough research on the subject I had never heard of it, not once. When a subsequent Google search only provided a few articles about it (none of which offered additional information) I began to suspect that I had never heard of it for the simple fact that it was bullshit that someone had relatively recently pulled out of their anal cavity.

I was wrong, however. Kind of.

It is really called the Seven Phases to Contact and it was first reported in the 1967 book, Flying Saucers — Here and Now! by Frank Edwards and later discussed in Xenology: An Introduction to the Scientific Study of Extraterrestrial Life, Intelligence and Civilization, a 1979 book by Robert Freitas. Allegedly it was among the subjects of a joint Army-Navy briefing regarding UFOs held in Washington DC during the summer of 1950. It was meant to provide an outline for how we might approach an extraterrestrial intelligence (ETI) upon our discovery of it. By extension, it may also explain how an ETI might approach our own species. Though potentially bunk, the content of the Seven Phases is interesting nonetheless and well-worth consideration.

PHASE ONE.

We might regard the first phase as one of remote detection and surveillance. The way Edwards described it in his book, this “would take place before we knew whether the planet was inhabited” and “would consist of a cautious and careful surveillance from a distance considered safe.” From earth and our orbiting satellites we might ascertain not only the presence, age and habitability of a distant exoplanet but even detect the signature of life through spectroscopic analysis of the atmosphere. SETI may even detect radio signals from the exoplanet.

PHASE TWO.

Given the star system was a relatively nearby neighbor and/or we had warp technology or access to wormholes, we would move onto the next phase and send out covert probes that would take up orbit around the exoplanet to gather further intelligence. If there were any natural moons, we might make manned bases there as well, ensuring they could not detect our presence.

There have been consistent rumors of an extraterrestrial “black knight satellite” orbiting earth as well as some curious moon anomalies that would be consistent with the notion that we are under such surveillance ourselves.

PHASE THREE.

If intelligence procured from the former two phases provided justification we would then engage in covert contact, deploying maneuverable, manned craft in order “to check the performance characteristics of vehicles belonging to the planetary inhabitants — to test their speed, types of propulsion, and maneuverability as compared to our own.” This is not unlike what UFOs started doing in the second World War as documented in Keith Chester’s 2010 book, Strange Company, and continue to do today, which is essentially antagonizing and play-fighting with commercial and military aircraft — as if to test their capabilities.

PHASE FOUR.

Next we would direct our craft to “make near approaches to determine whether the alien beings are hostile” as well as to “check radar locations and locations of military centers” so as to assess their degree of hostility and weapon capabilities. This is akin to the behavior of UFOs post-1947, where they began invading our airspace, focusing on our military bases and buzzing — and in a few unnerving instances, interfering — with our nuclear arsenals.

PHASE FIVE.

Finally, we would land, though Edwards states that this would be limited to “brief touchdowns in isolated areas to secure specimens of plants, animals, and (if possible) specimens of the intelligent beings themselves.” Freitas explains that xenologists (those who study extraterrestrial life) refer to this as “the snatch.” Of course, it also explains what is generally known as UFO or alien abduction. Alien beings have been observed taking plants as well as animals such as dogs, elk and, last but not least, human beings.

PHASE SIX.

With respect to the next potential phase, one which we might call the “presentation” phase, Edwards explains:

If we have been successful in acquiring the information we needed by the preceding steps, we must now decide on the basis of that knowledge whether to abandon the project as too risky or otherwise undesirable — or whether to put into effect the sixth phase of the program. If we decide that the evidence seems to warrant some kind of eventual contact, direct or indirect, then phase six would consist of landings and low-level approaches where our craft and their operators could be seen — but not reached. These approaches would be made where they could be witnessed by the greatest possible number of inhabitants. If carried out successfully, this phase would demonstrate our existence and our non-hostile nature.

PHASE SEVEN.

If the intelligence gathered from the former six phases suggested it was advisable we would then make overt contact, communicating and interacting with the ETI in person.

Referred to by our briefing officers as the ‘Overt Contact’ phase. This would be the deliberate, carefully planned and executed final step in the program. Contact would not be attempted unless we had excellent reason to believe that it would not be disastrous to either of the races involved. There are some good reasons why it might never come to pass — even though results of the first six phases might have indicated that it could be physically possible.

QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, REFLECTIONS.

Though not noted by either of the authors so far as I am aware, it seems clear to me that these seven phases — aside from the fifth phase, for some reason — could be grouped into pairs: phases one and two deal with covert surveillance; phases three and four deal with assessing their potential threat (their degree of hostility plus their technological capability); phases six and seven deal with incrementally conditioning them to our presence until overt contact can be safely initiated.

Phases six and seven also operate on what we could call the frog soup scenario. If you boil up the pot of water and then throw in the amphibious, ribbiting fuck, he’s going to hop out. So what you do instead is put him in a pot of room-temperature water and slowly crank up the heat. The change will be so gradual that he’ll never know what’s happening to him.

In his book UFOs, JFK, and Elvis, Richard Belzer quotes Jim Marrs, who described the process in what, to my mind, seems to be a far less ominous fashion:

Back in the 1970s, scientists discovered what appeared to be a Stone Age tribe living in a remote area of the Philippines. For the first time, instead of just rushing in with cloths and tools and Bibles and everything and saying, ‘Here, get civilized,’ we finally showed a little bit of smarts and quarantined the whole area. Then we sent in a pool of scientists who would condition these people — actually get them used to the reality of modern human beings — so they could accept the researchers as a normal part of their lives.

For the first week or so, the researchers would simply sit within the villagers’ view, but at a distance. The next week, they would move slightly closer — not close enough to interact, but within the villagers’ notice. In a few days, perhaps they would move to a clearing. Some time after that, they might start to smile and wave, and so on. After a while the tribesmen began to get acclimatized to the scientists’ presence. And they began to realize, Okay… These people are here. And by the time the scientists finally made contact, the villagers knew their visitors were neither enemies nor a threat.

This process is known as a gradual disclosure or leaky embargo, and it is certainly one way to explain the behavior of UFOs both collectively and in individual sightings and encounters.

As a whole, UFO sightings come in waves. There will be troughs nearly void of UFO sightings or encounters that will occasionally be broken by unpredictable spurts of activity. At some indeterminate point and at varying speeds and intensities this activity will increase, leading to a cluster of sightings and encounters, the frequency and intensity of which reaches a fever pitch until the wave crashes, leaving you in a trough once again. Just when the public seems to have forgotten about the UFO phenomenon, however, the surreal tide rises yet again.

Waves are only a general characteristic of their pattern of activity, however. When they speak about UFO flaps, they typically mean that UFO waves are centered around a specific, geographical area. UFO hot spots are meant to denote geographical areas in which activity seems both concentrated and enduring, as in Gulf Breeze, Florida, or in the aftermath of the videotaped sightings in Mexico during the solar eclipse of July 11, 1991.

When cases are examined individually, one finds that there seems to be an increasing proximity between witnesses and UFOs over time — or, in the very least, an increasing awareness of their proximity. At first there were only distant sightings of daylight discs and nocturnal lights and unnervingly validating radar-visual cases. Then there were Close Encounters of the First Kind, where UFOs were close enough that witnesses could clearly see that they were manufactured machines. There are countless individual reports but most notable are the sort of slow, low-level parades and mass sightings of large craft seen by thousands of people over New York and Connecticut beginning in 1983, in Phoenix, Arizona and Sonora, Mexico on March 13, 1997 and in Stephenville, Texas on January 8th, 2008.

Reinforcement for the objective reality of UFOs came in cases of the Second Kind, where the craft in question would appear to cause blackouts, stall cars and otherwise manipulate and often enough burn earth, vegetation as well as witnesses. During Close Encounters of the Third Kind they may see and even interact with occupants.

Are the aliens — a convenient term for the intelligence behind the UFO and abduction phenomenon — slowly conditioning us, acclimating us to not only their existence but their real-time presence? If we would approach an ETI in such a way, as suggested by the alleged Seven Phases of Contact, is it not at least conceivable that an ETI would approach us in an analogous fashion? And is there not suggestion in the form of the UFO phenomenon as a whole that we are currently in the seventh phase of the process?

Aliens, UFOs and Abnormal Psychology.

Dismissing myself as crazy has been my convenient go-to, a default triggered when my strange experiences and their apparent implications become too overwhelming. When this surreal aspect of my life comes to face the giggle factor, meets the laughter curtain and exceeds my boggle threshold, the barrier beyond which I am no longer able to suspend disbelief, I endure a sort of nausea of the mind so intense that I, for a time, submit to it. Declaring myself crazy by no means makes me feel better — to the contrary, I always feel worse — but condemning myself in this fashion requires less energy than continuing my efforts to actually understand my experiences. The issue is that once I get beyond the emotional devastation of labeling myself crazy and subject this self-diagnosis to analysis I ultimately come to realize it really doesn’t constitute a diagnosis at all. “Crazy” is just a buzzword, dismissive in spirit and entirely devoid of true explanation.

So early on, back in high school, I found myself trying to identify a more specific self-diagnosis by reading through books on psychology, even an Abnormal Psychology college textbook I got from a friend. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when I found that no single condition I read about seemed to cover the crazy shit that I had been experiencing. No umbrella terms appeared to be available. When I began seeing a psychologist shortly thereafter, and one that I had quickly developed a respect for, I explained how I had tried diagnosing myself and failed, as no disorder seemed to encompass it all. In my memory, he retorted, stating that I was wrong, and when I pressed him he fumbled and mentioned schizophrenia. The fact that he immediately seemed to backpedal when he saw my reaction only made my terror increase. The moment hung with me and I fell back on it when the weirdness weighed me down. At one point I remember finding a page on the net that described traits of the schizophrenic and the schizoid personality that seemed to fit me perfectly.  I scotch taped it to my bedroom door.

In 2002, when I came back to him after an intense cluster of experiences and casually acknowledged in our session that I was fully aware that I was schizophrenic, he immediately asked me, with a skeptical look on his face, who it was that had given me that diagnosis. When I stated that it had been him, he was emphatic that this could not have been the case. After explaining to me that the term schizophrenia was essentially a dumping ground for what may turn out to be various disorders, he took on this proposed diagnosis directly.

“If you’re a schizophrenic,” he told me, “you’re certainly a highly-functioning one.”

I found the notion that I, a twenty-something living at home yet again and working fast food, could be described as “highly functioning” by any measure to be ludicrous, but he was, after all, the goddamned professional. Though he predicted that I had particular abnormalities in certain regions of my brain and called my experiences “perceptual anomalies,” he never gave me a diagnosis.

For a time, specifically after reading Dr. Marlene Steinberg’s book, The Stranger in the Mirror: Dissociation — The Hidden Epidemic, I also explored the notion that I might suffer from a dissociative disorder, perhaps even Dissociative Identity Disorder. Without doubt I experience what has been labeled dissociative symptoms. In addition, my memories and experiences may in part be due to some alternate personality or “alter” and there appears to be evidence of its beginnings in my childhood. My initial rush of memories and the flashbacks that followed might represent a previously compartmentalized sector of my mind, one belonging to this alter, colliding with my conscious personality and merging. My experience with the ideomotor response in my use of the Ouija board, in my spontaneous artwork and writing, as well as during the hypnosis session, all may have represented the alter gaining slow and localized control over my body. The entity I encountered during my “astral projections” might be one manifestation of an alternate personality or alter as well — perhaps after sharing previously isolated memories the separate aspects of mind we have governed over blended further, giving rise to shared lucid dreams I took to be “astral projections.” Maybe the incidents between June and August of 1995, climaxing in the incident at the java juicer, represented transient periods where the alter took control of my body entirely.  

The issue is that this degree of dissociation is typically associated with intense physical and psychological trauma. On the surface, at least, this presents itself to me as an utterly insane proposition. As I imagine is the case with anyone, I have my share of complaints and grievances with respect to how I grew up. My mother favored my sisters over me and I had endless power-struggles with her over the course of my childhood. It hurt and enraged me, and I continue in my attempts to deal with those issues. Even so, I recognize that I was one lucky little asshole. My parents never physically abused us kids. I was certainly never sexually abused. Our harshest punishments as children, which I faced often enough, involved either staring at a corner for a length of time measured by my mother’s oven timer or being under “room arrest,” confined to my bedroom until further notice. Without doubt this nonviolent discipline is what made the abuse I witnessed at Jimmy’s house all the more traumatizing — and indeed, that was all certainly traumatizing from the position of a witness as well, but that it might provide the fuel for alien encounters seemed far more ludicrous to me than the thought that, well, I might have legitimately had alien encounters.

It isn’t just trauma and mental disorders that can allegedly produce these alien encounters, however. People have linked alien abduction experiences with various drugs such as Salvia Divinorum, Ketamine, and psilocybin, but most often DMT. All are classified as psychedelics, I believe, aside from ketamine, which is a dissociative, but unless you’re willing to concede that each of these chemicals constitute different rabbit holes leading to the same parallel universe, all are psychedelic in the true sense of the term, which is to say that they are “mind-revealing.” In other words, these drugs draw back the egoic curtain and let you take a peek beyond the veil of mundane consciousness, bringing you can deal more directly with the more subliminal aspects of the mind — just as psychosis can.

Some believe sleep paralysis alone can produce the abduction experience, which I find ridiculous for several reasons. Even among the popularized abduction cases one can see that bedrooms are not the only place encounters occur and that often enough the people involved are not asleep at the time of the event. They might be fishing or driving, for instance, and be among others who are taken along with them. In addition, I have had sleep paralysis myself and the earliest such experience is the succubus experience mentioned early in the book. Even at the time of the experience I did not interpret it as an alien breaking into my dark room, crawling atop my bed, straddling my immobilized body and proceeding to dry-hump rape me. Instead, I assumed it was a disembodied entity doing something analogous or — more likely, I supposed — this was all a hallucinatory experience brought on by one-part sleep deprivation and one-part prescription medication.

So I have explored the Psychological Hypothesis (PH), which alleges that while it may require activation through trauma, drugs, mental disorders or the peculiar circumstance in which your mind wakes up before your body does, the abduction experience is purely a product of human psychology. There is no external intelligence at work here, only my own. It’s all in my head. A related school of thought I explored posits what I’ll call the Psi Hypothesis (PsiH), and it attempts to compensate for the failure of the PH to account for physical evidence by bringing parapsychology into the fold — specifically, the psi capabilities of the human mind.

My train of thought ultimately ran along this track: if one finds the PH absurd and instead accepts abductions as nuts-and-bolts physical experiences, these physical experiences require you to accept the existence of paranormal phenomena. It is simply a given. After all, a cursory glance at abduction reports should make it clear that telepathy and moving through walls, for instance, is by no means rare in abduction events. To the contrary, paranormal phenomena is pretty fucking standard — and not just during these events, either, but in the wake of them. There is the matter of the “paranormal afterglow” that manifests in my life during these experiences, and while some investigators fail to mention them, personal reports from abductees reveal that I am by no means alone. Others also experience spontaneous telepathic experiences, poltergeist activity, vivid dreams that seem like awakening in a parallel reality, odd coincidences and other strange events.

As this paranormal afterglow runs the full spectrum of psi, stretches on indiscriminately into the gamut of the strange, it seems natural to wonder if the aliens themselves, rather than extraterrestrials, might just be another manifestation. In other words, it could very well still be that the phenomenon is purely psychological at the roots, that it is governed by compartmentalized aspects of my mind that influence me subliminally, that this is truly my conspiracy against myself. Maybe it also branched out into physicality utilizing psi abilities, however: powers which for whatever convenient reason I cannot wield consciously.
This would by necessity be a form of poltergeist. In this view, the phenomenon of poltergeists is explained as a living individual who is experiencing recurrent spontaneous psychokinesis; the psychokinetic activity is the result of subconscious and involuntary acting-out of the focus individual.

For a clearer picture of how this might work we might first turn to a series of parapsychological experiments that have been conducted since 1972. These experiments sought to demonstrate that the display of psi phenomena often attributed to deceased individuals could manifest without them, and so such phenomena were not necessarily evidence for life after death. In the beginning, which in this case was 1972, there was Philip Aylesford, the child of eight members of the Toronto Society for Psychical Research. He was a fictional character they developed with an elaborate backstory regarding his birth, life, and eventual death. They collectively meditated on him before attempting to communicate with him in the style of a Spiritualist seance. Participants reported not only communications but manifestations — they not only saw and heard things, in other words, but poltergeist phenomena also manifested. Other groups conducted similar experiments, reporting that they had successfully created and then conjured Lilith, a World War II French Canadian spy, Sebastian, an alchemist from medieval times and finally Axel, who was from the future.

As expected, results of these experiments were disputed — as were the tales regarding the more extreme manifestation of what has typically been called the tulpa in Western culture and which is also variously known as an egregore or a thought-form. It is often conceived as an imaginary entity that achieves, through ritual intent of its creator, a physical manifestation — according to some, an intentional and advanced rendition of your typical poltergeist.

Though the notion is reasonably dispersed across the collective consciousness at this point, methinks, the only alleged personal account I have come across is the one told by Alexandra David-Neel. In her journey through Tibet, she became interested in tulpas. Having elected to make one herself, she decided on a friendly, pudgy monk, and was eventually able to visualize him as a hallucination in her visual field. Over time the hallucination gained clarity, and eventually she found it indistinguishable from a living, breathing, physical being.

The frightening aspect of her little experiment soon became apparent, however, when the monk began appearing when she hadn’t conjured it, and then began behaving in ways it had not been programmed by her to behave. The monk also seemed to be losing weight and had taken on a distinctly malicious appearance. Nothing was as shocking, however, as when an individual she knew, who knew nothing of her practices, began questioning her about the stranger that had been meandering about in her tent. She reports that it took half a year, but she was eventually able to abolish the creature through other Tibetan techniques.

Though in both of these cases the entities were intentionally generated, in both cases they reportedly also exceed their programming and seemed to take on a life of their own, independent of the conscious aspect of the mind: essentially, a spiritual form of artificial intelligence. It also fits the profile of a dissociative identity state, an alternate personality. They are essentially intentionally-generated alters that can manifest physically.

An interesting aspect of the Philip experiment was that none of the eight involved were gifted psychically. Nonetheless, they were apparently capable of creating and programming a spiritual entity that could communicate in a way that was consistent with that personality and, most important and amazing of all, producing psychokinetic effects. David-Neel seemed to be at least moderately gifted psychically and have some degree of discipline as well; despite being a lone individual, she was able to produce a creature that could be seen by her and others. The entity was also able to become independent of its creators, functioning autonomously. Naturally, this might lead one to wonder what kind of effects a large group of psychically-gifted individuals might be capable of producing.

All the people I know that have had experiences similar to mine seem to have no knowledge of the UFO or abduction phenomenon beyond the superficial reports that the media regurgitates every now and then. Despite this, correlations between our narratives are plentiful right down to unanticipated details. From the way one friend described the shadows of the beings from outside her tent during a formative experience while camping as a child to the way another friend described the manner in which one of the creatures in his encounter ran, there are correlations even in the details littering our experience that I cannot in good conscience deny. This extends to many of those of whom I have read and read about in blogs, articles and books and seen through interviews and documentaries. Could the answer really be that our collective unconscious is conspiring against us, utilizing telepathy to share a narrative and RSPK to bring that narrative to life?

Despite finding the concepts of both the PH and PsiH fascinating, I have, in the end, always choked in my attempts to swallow. Those who have posited that poltergeist activity is the unconscious product of an individual note the similarities in individuals around which the alleged recurrent spontaneous psychokinesis (RSPK) manifests. In cases of alien abduction, on the other hand, it is clear that these experiences are shared by people from all walks of life, people all across the spectrum — racial, religious, cultural, class, education — as well as people of wildly different constitutions who react to these shared experiences in very individual ways. This sounds less like a psychological disorder — with or without psi effects — and more like an actual, nuts-and-bolts experience.

Crazy.

Sometimes I think I’m crazy. Sometimes I know I’m not.

— Stone Sour.

Always and forever, that question rears its ugly head once again, popping back up like some dreaded, stubborn Cheerio of Doom in the cereal bowl of my life: am I crazy?

I mean, I’m plagued with anxiety, experience periods of depression and bouts of blinding rage: does that alone make me crazy? Or is it the whole alien thing coupled with the seemingly paranormal phenomena that makes me so damned qualified?

Probably the alien thing, right?

Its rather stupid, too, I must admit, as I’m treating the “crazy” label as if it in itself might be an answer, but what does it explain, really? What the bloody fuck does it even mean?

Nothing.

It’s just a dismissive word. Calling someone crazy is a thought-stopper, not unlike saying “god did it.” It’s an easy out because you don’t have to question their motivations, their influences, the inner workings of their mind and heart. You need not understand a single thing. Crazy means empathy is unnecessary, even dangerous.

If my unusual experiences are little more than a mesh of waking dreams and hallucinations supported by delusions, that still leaves a lot open to question. For me, anyway. I know I’m not consciously and deliberately imagining these things and yet the experiences can be so sensory-rich, lifelike, structured — and totally governed by subliminal, autonomous processes. My battles against them are battles against some aspect if myself, but that makes it no less of a battle, makes them no more under my control.

And if I am crazy, does that mean the people I have met throughout my life who have had similar experiences — who have seen aliens, experienced paranormal phenomena for themselves — are also crazy? It would stand to reason. So I am not merely judging and dismissing myself but many of those who are dearest to me.

I may not be crazy, then, but calling myself crazy might make me a dick.