An Odd Lot

Some Things Never Change


Imagine the experiential cacophony if you were located upon several places as a singularity. I am pressing the button, playing the string of your immersion into your own conceptual basis, a creature of biology with no verifiable internal location, if you assume your senses are but a simulation of what you cannot see directly.

In this superimposition, the imaginal realm is perhaps, I suggest to you, something more than suspecting there is a shadow lurking under your bed. It may be a lathe, a inter-dimensional conception of yourself as an intermediary, a creator of potentials, while unseen in this arrangement of fixed apertures we occupy, it may be suspended in a half life waiting for the opportunity to follow you as your shadow.
In this there may be other creatures more gifted in a realm delimited in a scope we can scarce envision. Their shadows may be impressioned, observed, perhaps even touched.

This assumes a coherency we lack in our seemingly random associations. Take a watch or a clock and concentrate on the movement of it's second hand. Now, see how it measures a circular yet linear compass of measurement. Now, relax and for a moment make a consideration appear in your thoughts, such as they are, to wrest control of your internal computations, to silence them. Listen to them babel as one would overhearing a conversation from far across the room. Looking at the second hand of our clock, as we measure our success.Alas, this machinery we have become adhered to seemingly has no end, perhaps there is no one home.

If thought could be arrested, what remains? A hand rises from the back of the room. "A potential?" The lecturer nervously fusses with his nest of notes, refusing to acknowledge the answer.

We stood on the crest of a hill in twilight in the brace of an autumn wind. The vessel materialized as a superimposition upon our senses. It was certainly a ghost ship or perhaps one that required our attention to form in some recognizable manner, as a signet of our own orientation that we had impressioned on this vision, lacking a counterpart in our own realm. It was a close match, as they say.

What Genie or Jinn would alight from this irradiating lamp? Mr Fort swiped the thin spectacles perched on his nose in one fell swoop in an irritated manner. His arms were braced in a defiant stance upon his hips, as small pieces of paper escaped in a whirlwind from his baggy trousers,frowning, he blurted "well..here we go..more fodder for the chattel,gentlemen."

We turned to spy Mr Lovecraft who was running like a man possessed down the slope,losing one of his shoes in the process. Mr Fort smirked upon observing Mr Lovecraft's mad dash across the moors,while commenting to no one in particular while gazing at the shoe, "He will certainly miss that"

As we stood in obedience before the end result of our own curiosity, which shimmered in the heat waves slightly above our heads, Mt Gurdjieff casually asked if we were ready for lunch, as then a disheveled stranger quickly muscled his way through our little crowd from the rear, which we all recognized as the tenant farmer upon whose pasture we and our bright companion had alighted upon, without invitation. "Well whats this about then..!? I just saw a fellow practically mow down my oats, and then scattered the flocks..and now this, whose responsible for this?"

Mr Crowley pointed to the orb without missing a beat. The agriculturalist scratched his unruly mop of thinning hair. "Well then, you brought it here, make the damn thing go away, Ive got to be in Middleford by noon"

It blinked out and vanished as surely as a pinprick would vector a bubble. Mr Fort grumbled on our way down the slope, "I hope the lunch is better." Encountering Mr Lovecraft wiping his forehead furiously with a handkerchief, awaiting our demise or return in the sedan Fort said, "HP..Your imaginations run away with you, man, get a grip" The farmer approached Mr Lovecraft slumped over the wheel. "Could I ask a ride to Middleford?"

Gurdjieff was waving at us , across the road,beneath the shade of a tree, with a large meal laid out on a blanket beneath it. " Good man" intoned Mr Crowley, who was already halfway there toward G's repast."Come on now Lovecraft...get some reality in your stomach" blustered Fort..

As we ate in silence under that tree, the farmer was bringing us some milk from his barn across the dusty lane as Lovecraft muttered under breath, "monsters.." Mr Gurdjieff bit into a leg of lamb and suggested to him,"Either we eat lunch or talk philosophy." Crowley set his glass down on the blanket after drinking it's contents in one quick gulp, and as rapidly stood up striking a theatrical pose "Do what thou whilst shall be the whole of the law!" Laughter issued from our little group while the farmer appeared perplexed. "Oh shut up..rabble..!" Fort complained from his position, back to the tree, absentmindedly scribbling notes. "Youre an odd lot" observed the farmer.

"Indeed" mumbled Mr Lovecraft.

I awoke and wrote this account onto a notebook always at the ready on my nightstand. Some things never change.

A Shadow Amongst The Shadows

The Hat Man, The Shadow and The Secret Sharer
With Apologies To Joesph Conrad


"A caricature is putting the face of a joke on the body of a truth."
-Joseph Conrad

"And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision, -what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them, -- will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him?
-Plato,the Republic Book VII

Perhaps our descent onto the purgatorial divisions we know by the demarcations of form, are marked by an incessant fire that sears us with a blinding spontaneous combustion, a experiential chemistry lacking heat or light, on the surface of our habitation within a mirror,onto this station of the blue Earth.

Having been cleansed of all offenses upon ourselves as Vice Regents, clothed in the white, virginal fabric of light,as the ashes fell away, we consequently lacked any self acknowledgment of our own nature as a aggregate sum, and so we began this sojourn of return,seemingly alone in isolation while attended by the breath of opportunity, a grace whose states of ascension and gravitational corruption made many a play upon the fertility of bewilderment.

As stripped of our past, we have been shown the forms of the names and attributes of our origination as brethren of a singularity, who now abode in poverty, by the mercy of a sun now oddly foreign to us. The Angelic choir sings praise in their aviary upon the branch of a tree, as we pass by, ignorant in our knowledge of them, tone deaf, informed by planetary rumors, conjectures, theories and the battlements of the living dead, while form in of itself sings a hymn foreign to our ears in which we have been immersed.

This is the realm of reconstitution of re imaging, upon the compass of a seal placed in the breast of all who transverse, of matter itself which we were enjoined to make sentient, every piece of granite and every blade of grass placed before us as an exemplar of meaning whose clay is upon a blind potters wheel, we have come upon in this sojourn among the unborn. So says the fallen ones.

Some of us pass quickly, while others remain, some remain invisible, silent, and others take the path of blame in order to reconstitute the elemental soil of the black light, which is the brightest star we navigate by, whether we are cognizant, or unborn to our place in vouchsafing this station of our intermediary reflection.

What of our own indelible shadows? Some seek a death of permanence as ghosts fixated within a protective cloister of certainties, much as a as they had in this realm, superimposed upon the chain of attachments wrought from their own causalities,while they are taunted and provoked by their living counterparts, who are poised to join their rank and file, also, in turn, by causality, perhaps by adhesion to a tomb which they forged in life whose shadow they will either occupy, or surmount as a matter of either discernment or remorse, fear or attachment, as this is such among the living, as shared with the perspective of the dead. It simply depends on which side of this relativistic equation you observing one through the other by the means of this mirror. Perhaps we burden the dead with our own baggage while they view our world with the remorse we lack toward our own, as the living. They may be the more discerningly wiser party in this arrangement. Call them actors upon two sides of a stage, all of which are variants of corporeal shadows cast by a certain darkness. The Hat Man has taken this to the level of art as an actor encased within his own authorship. So say the fallen ones.


In this singularity which fails a location, we as a portion of it's essence, have created the Grey in misappropriation, as well as the beasts that taunt our orientation, watched over by the vessels of the disembodied as platforms to roam this materiality of meanings in observation of it's play upon the nature of it's inhabitants, all informed by one another, all by our creative disorientation to wrest coherence from chaos within ourselves upon a potentiality, a process in this state between states, this isthmus of forms juxtaposed with the formless arising from the heart seated upon a hidden conscience.

We lack the capabilities of the wiser child who wakes from a nightmare realizing it was his fear that formed the demons that provoked his own torments, at their merciless hands of an unconscious magician who lacks the capability to acknowledge his failure to wake upon such an arousal of uncertainty. The realities of dreams or nightmares made manifest are yet potentialities given form. The sojourner abides in this secret sharing within the prescription that he himself fails to heed when he abdicates all responsibility for the gods and monsters he set forth, and proclaims them the work of others. Who knows what lurks hidden in the mind of the human heart in an arrangement where one's shortcomings are hidden from view, only to reemerge from the shadows?


Perhaps "The Shadow (itself) Knows" and one in particular, this character from the collective, imaginal realm has been called forth by our invitation as "The Hat Man", an intermediary phenomenon poised to attend us as the embodiment of Joesph Conrad's Secret Sharer, wherein we are both the secret creator of our own consequences upon this journey based upon the heart in relation to our conscience,as well as it's public Captain which are often, two disparate faces of an inner and outer persona whose shared existence is upheld by those who keep this secret held in trust, separated by the wall through which these two entangled facets of the Self communicate both in relation to private and public thoughts. Perhaps you and I share this secret in common, upheld for our reflection in the anomalies we pursue within ourselves as well as those which compel us from without. Perhaps a caricature is due that as Conrad suggested, is "putting the face of a joke on the body of a truth."


This is the darkness of a shadow far removed from a dime store medium, in which Conrad's protagonist Leggatt, is a symbol for the internal darkness of the narrator, who could not see what was in his own nature, and consequently, did not know how to behave towards his situation of command. The Hatman as The Shadow is perhaps a meme that is a signet of our own shadow nature, as well as being our repository companion of secrets of the Self, which has no form, as the shadow of the visible realm of form, recognized as a face, that is in effect, is a mask through which we negotiate these realities as a intermediary. For a child, in particular, this is most certainly a twilight habitation fraught with more uncertainties than we adults assume with blind confidence.


Interestingly, the wide brimmed hat of The Shadow as well as that of The Hat Man, are found also in The Secret Sharer, wherein this is the gift that the narrator gives to the stowaway Leggatt in order to protect him from the sun while on an island, but is dropped into the water as Leggatt leaves, and serves as a marker to protect the narrator from crashing into the shore, as well as making this hat a symbol of mutual protection and the relationship between the narrator and Leggatt.

The brethren of a winged snake whose obedience to light has perhaps created these shadows, a darkness of adhesion in this play of division to wrest the irradiated from it's shell,provides an equilibrium of choice, in the mark upon each defining adherent of form alone, who name the nameless existent whose corpus is without comparability, using similarities as a fools errand toward their own intermediary state whose defining characteristic lacks location as they have pinned the tale upon their own stubborn donkey, mistaking this as a game of their own choice alone as a defining characteristic.

"God has created no thing in the world of forms without its having a correspondent in the universe of meanings, and He has created no thing in the universe of meanings, which is the other world, without its having a reality in the universe of the real which is the mystery of the hidden world. In the same way God has created no thing in the two worlds without its having an image and an exemplar in the universe of man. If you understand that, know that the image of the throne in the universe of man is his heart and that of the pedestal is his secret conscience"
-Ibn Al Arabi

In the twilight paradigms of childhood or held in the shadows of the sun, we occupy a station between states and although we may envision ourselves as compartmentalized from our creations whether they be formed or unformed, perhaps all such matters seek a shared expression through the anomalies we hold through the mirror of ourselves as intermediaries and in this perhaps why our own shadows naturally follow our course, paranormal or otherwise.


We could say as we pause momentarily in our search for truisms in our own caricatures of meaning through the anomalous, it may be we at the gate between the dawn and dusk which, in effect, who have played an equal role in creating them. Perhaps we are but two streams of the same river running alongside one other, both are the hunter and the hunted.

Unintentionally, the hat loosed from the head adorned my last post at the nexus of our desires running chaotically under the guise of civility, the hat as a portion of a costume we all wear of our own choosing in our alliances and loyalties. Perhaps the hat this shadow wears is a navigational warning from our awaiting boatman upon the river Styx, or then again, a conveyor of our desires and fears unloosed upon a parallel world wherein we are the anomalies they seek by way of the riddle that is the human heart or simply that the hat is an adornment for our speculation in opposition to our presumed location.

"I swung the mainyard and waited helplessly. She was perhaps stopped, and her very fate hung in the balance, with the black mass of Koh-ring like the gate of the everlasting night towering over her taffrail. What would she do now? Had she way on her yet? I stepped to the side swiftly, and on the shadowy water I could see nothing except a faint phosphorescent flash revealing the glassy smoothness of the sleeping surface. It was impossible to tell -- and I had not learned yet the feel of my ship. Was she moving? What I needed was something easily seen, a piece of paper, which I could throw overboard and watch. I had nothing on me. To run down for it I didn't dare. There was no time. All at once my strained, yearning stare distinguished a white object floating within a yard of the ship's side. White on the black water. A phosphorescent flash passed under it. What was that thing? I recognized my own floppy hat. It must have fallen off his head and he didn't bother. Now I had what I wanted, the saving mark for my eyes. But I hardly thought of my other self, now gone from the ship, to be hidden forever from all friendly faces, to be a fugitive and a vagabond on the earth, with no brand of the curse on his sane forehead to stay a slaying hand, too proud to explain. And I watched the hat, the expression of my sudden pity for his mere flesh. It had been meant to save his homeless head from the dangers of the sun. And now, behold, it was saving the ship, by serving me for a mark to help out the ignorance of my strangeness."
-Joesph Conrad, The Secret Sharer

Then again, in the end, what we may have is an image arising from the mirror of the grave, in that we have role playing afoot arising from an individual enamored of the opportunistic capability of being an actor of another stripe,on a stage that has no parallel, and in all such endeavors, the hat is simply a hallmark of the character he has donned, perhaps from radio, perhaps from a comic book...If this is so, in his quest to become a legend from beyond the grave, he is a lone sentinel of ambition encased perhaps in a form of amber, reduced to a shadow puppet of his own desires. Trading the infinite expanse of multi-verses for a stage wherein he is the recipient of his own accolades, eternally in search of an audience for his shadow which he carried in life, an ambition unmet, a interruption in mid sentence, has placed him alone on a empty street encased like the ancient mariner in a journey of darkness amongst the shadows, pulled like a cart, driven like a piston in an engine he could never ascertain within himself. In this lies a cautionary tale, who are the actors upon this set?

The Encounter At Miller's Crossing

Playing The Abduction Card

"I sit on a man's back, choking him, and making him carry me, and yet assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by any means possible, except getting off his back"- Leo Tolstoy, 'Writings on Civil Disobedience and Nonviolence' (1886)*


This post examines the psychology of chaos confronting any haplessly naive alien who is ruminating contact with our species as a group, as opposed to such a meeting being scheduled on a person to person basis. Why has the diplomatic tea at the United Nations with our ambassadors from Oz yet to have taken place? Is there a perspective of relativity when it comes to the commission of crimes, in the eye of the beholder? Who determines when a crime takes place? That alien guy and girl wants to know before setting foot upon our skewed surrealism of formal relations we ourselves established as a judicial prerogative, that may, in fact, be sociopathic, and so... if we, as a organized set of cartels, do talk out of both sides of our consensus terms when it comes to our own behaviors, is it also a possibility that we could also plant evidence at the scene of a crime that has only a circumstantial basis?

What would be the gain? Is this a deceitful, military intelligence operation performed to convince the targets of the operation that they have had an encounter with extraterrestrial beings which is actually a staged ploy to create a negative viral meme based on the manipulation of fear? Are some inadvertent causalities of this process? Do we have two parties to this phenomenon in that one attempts the utilize the screen of UFO activity to manipulate the evidence, to harass witnesses and then create the scenario of sociopathic abductors, by arranging inadvertent false testimony by witnesses? If so, to some degree it has been successful if it is truly a intentional and propagandist counterintelligence ploy.

Many technological advances in non lethal weapons have occurred, as well as accounts that such weapons as used by various police departments, can be lethal. The common denominator of a bright light causing disassociation and then the associated induction of a state of that between a dream and a waking state, causes this writer to examine the other side of the coin by asking, is this an example of planting evidence, a frame up? One considers the revelation made public by no less than the CIA that many field operations were conducted by manipulating the UFO phenomenon, as a screen for their own agenda..Is there a program to inoculate our species against potential contact with a non human species? Whose loyalty is in question? If not our own, then whose?

In the following video, take note that when faced with two alternative scenarios, one being the murder of a subject that may have undergone a highly strange but terrestrial procedure and the other pointing the finger at "extraterrestrials", the extraterrestrial hypothesis is given more weight. Is this evidence, albeit subtle, that the framing of a circumstantial case has been altered by the manipulation of psychology?



The empirical world of human history viewed long before the advent of multi-national corporations, was a protection racket based upon taxation. The Pentagon centuries ago was a stronghold of stone, replete with high walls, posted guards, the technology of weaponry and a moat of security to vouchsafe the unauthorized entry of the rabble, in, of course, their best interests,created as a inferred and actual threat of one being subject to harsh consequences or rules of the Kingdom's laws, while also providing proof that alpha males, or bipedal homids donning ceremonial robes while wielding a sword, was a altruistic necessity. Call it nationalistic security in defense of a territorial imperative, an armed franchise. The equation of hearts and minds attached to a territorial loyalty, a brand name if you will has historically been and in glove with the ecclesiastical prerogative, now, perhaps this is an old hat trick and in a existential shift of loyalty to the sciences as a means to an end, this exercise in self verification by proxy, as been transferred to the technological mastery of psychology.



What was at stake had been transferred from the watering hole where game predictably gathered, long before the advent of oil being considered a necessity, to the gathering and claim upon other resources, human, mineral, agriculture, art, and of course, the subjects paradigms that all was right with a "volunteered" yoke or otherwise "obedience" to a cartel of weapon wielding real estate moguls,whose assets were transferable to tokens of trade, or other similar tokens, or shall we say, totems of this game whose motive was a zero sum orientation of self interest.

Mob rule has a Janus face either as chaotic in the absence of imposed order, or the gang warfare, mob hits, extortion's, negotiations, posturings of implied threat that promotes a certain ordering of allocations. To be initiated into the protection rackets either as a soldier or a Capo, on either side of the self legislated Janus face of a game field with rules, or innovating rules to accomplish the same on a smaller scale is to parse minutia. The same applies to the U.S versus China, or China versus Japan,the Sicilian Mob versus the Irish Mob,or the U.S versus Iran. Loyalties aside,not all activities make the morning edition as recent revelations of a CIA hit squad have caused much public wringing of hands while behind the scenes, either under the cloak of national security, or in overt military operations, the territorial imperative of Mob rule remains to wrest direct control over a natural world that no one, in reality actually owns.


The extraterrestrial sat across from me in his familiar position in the darkness,illuminated by the campfire, seated upon a boulder across from me in silence. I sat in silence. This chess game had no common language. Our conversation had halted when he posed a motive for this game by stating that we are incapable of self rule, individual rule held in place by shared interest. This was not opinion, for better or worse this is a fact. The first rays of light flickered over the horizon as he walked away. I bid him no farewell nor he to me. I scanned my immediate environment, as this sun rose, and encountered a field of ghosts chaotically arranged about me as the grainy translucence of their presence underscored this unnatural silence.


I thought about the orbiting flocks of surveillance satellites, the crew of the international space station, expeditions to the moon and mars, the captain of a full rigged vessel upon some unknown cartography of the sea and how all of these were the circumference of a circle within the cycle of history which is the expansion of external horizons, without the benefit of an internal compass. This was in relation to the cartels of religions as the paid intermediary's between Gods now to a God that was the constabulary of a parallel mirror of a monarchy or ruling King.

I was thinking of a relation close to me whose son had committed suicide.She was very worried about his term in purgatory. Recently I heard that this ruling had been rescinded, that officially there was no such state and station, which seemed to this writer, irony of ironies as purgatory confronts us, challenges us as a discernment of human values that reflect our orientation to the creations we fashion as seals upon our own fate. Our ships navigate the surface of a deeper oceanic realm, knowledge exceeds being and my alien friend had a simple observation stated as a face that circumscribed this rumination, as I made my way back home,down the yellow brick road.


The cartels examine the dynamics of a script they themselves have authored, in a self referential world as securely sealed as though they themselves are Lazurus, entombed asleep in Plato's cave. This script is as old as the geological record reveals from flints to the ceremonial burials of the Neanderthals. Last night I had a strange vision within a Jungian dream. A winged humanoid female figure approached me with eyes that were empty with the exception of the radiance of light that was blinding as I myself was blind. I asked if she had a name. Her name was Grace. She laid out in front of me the geological equivalent of layered realities as a horizontal color spectrum, in the middle of this abstracted painting was the color blue. She said "This is the middle way."


Growing up in Chicago specifically in Cicero, many of my childhood neighbors were members and operatives of what is known as the mob..to me as a child, they expressed kindnesses, hauling me with their own kids in a wagon to the park, or having dinner, only to learn many years later, the head of the household was a hit man who was later blown into unidentifiable pieces in his garage while turning the key in his ignition.



Then the words of my extraterrestrial friend had encircled my ruminations once again, in the from of self exploration in the face of external territorial disputes, whether the opposition of the two was a conflict being fought not over territories, religion or behavior but rather the orientation of certainty toward uncertainty, the individual as a potentiality rather than a measurable, statistical and aggregate sum of science or government. The individual is approached on his own terms, simply because the other terms are irrelevant to the question at hand.



Then we have the script upon a mirror wherein human psychology is a twice told tale, played by actors assigned to a certainty upon a game field of potentiality, the world of castles, the world of the pentagon, the world of resources, extortion, and alliances of convenience. My alien friend rightfully may have pinpointed the nexus of the issue in terms of human psychology, in the Janus face of Mob rule, the demarcation of chaos versus extortion wherein the world leaders are the self legislated cartel of protection rackets in a high stakes poker game financed by the corporations who skim off the top, while purchasing influence by arrangements of mutual benefit to both parties.



Within this game are the speculations of a new racket proposed by alien-human hybrids which of course in turn lead to the imagining in our own terms, new cartel muscling in on the stakes of a decidedly surrealistic anomaly we term reality in the form of consensus reality,which of course mirrors our conceptual models of the Cosa Nostra. What most fail to realize or account for is history when one race ( human) determines on the whim of territorial and critical assumptions that a threat is implied to power structures, such as they are or are imagined to be, by the demonizing of the "other", one could say my alien friend has a wealth of evidence that rumor and innuendo is the homeostasis or life blood of a power base. Of course, the the would be Exopoliticians are reaching to grab a base line through the distorted lens of fair play, whereas such Utopian aspirations are normally consigned to the stance of the Warrior Popes when confronting the heretics, as surely as one pours from the empty into the void in a tragicomedy of empirical rule.Which contender to the throne has the seal and signet of authority? A lynching party awaits the unwary, or is it yet another crucifixion in absentia? We fear to make the first call through SETI lest we meet ourselves in spades.

In this costume drama all of the aliens appear to be cloned on the basis of their surface appearances, which may be a mirror of opportunistic exploitation in the mirror of human psychology, wherein our own homeostasis is a madhouse of internal alliances, clothed in certainty. The fear of the other may be but a implanted contrivance in the minds of abductees in the advance of an approach as spooking the locals is an art rather than a science, created by innuendo in order to enforce loyalties.


A certain cartel may be utilizing a form of viral alien meme implanted within the orientation or shall we say, strategy of xenophobia, by the creation of future alliances in a propagandist and technological extension, simply by exploiting a consistently pernicious weakness in human psychology by misdirection. Then again, the uniformity of a cloned consensus floats upon the support of those who seek certainty in the concealment of chaos, as an alliance of fear superimposed upon territorial prerogatives. This is always a grass roots effort in terms of the resistance required to oppose change, especially social change. But then again, whose? Who stands to lose the protection rackets? Would another party muscling into the well establishes alliances, territories, profits,and schemes, be cause for concern that the loyalties of extortion by armed threat must be countered at any cost? Again, who stands to lose the most, who stands to be motivated to create an alliance of convenience among other cartels to insure the well is poisoned if the other shoe drops?



One needs only to leverage a certain propensity toward loyalty when faced with a unknown. Who is being played and by whom? As a postscript, I was curious about the name I was given and looked up the meaning of Grace.

"Grace is often distinguished from mercy in that mercy is seen as not receiving punishment that one deserves to receive, whereas grace is the receipt of a positive benefit that one does not deserve to receive."

* relevant quote as published in The Daily Grail

PT2 : The Human Mediumship of The UFO Phenomenon

Expanded on July 15th

In Search of The Crimson Hexagon: The Anomalies of Space\Time


The Misnomer of Missing Time Versus Immeasurable Time
This is a post that introduces a new language, spacial language or the common denominator between UFO, NDE, OBE,Ghost and PSI phenomenon in terms of the anomalies of space\time that these various aspects of this singularity represent.Again we revisit Borge's Library of Babel in that each volume of these file folder binders of notes seemingly have the codex of inter-dimensional accounts upon them. Some are more obscure than others.
http://www.ghostwoods.com/2009/07/infinite-worlds-162/

In Ufology, there is the thread of spacial relationships that defy our own orientation, whether it is the lack of a verifiable propulsion system in relation to their levitation, their seemingly instantaneous appearance and disappearance, the occupants propensity to walk through walls, the levitation of abductees,whether they be human or otherwise, the anomaly of immeasurable "missing" time experiences, and so forth. On the other hand, we have PSI phenomenon, remote viewing, precognition, teleportation, ghosts, and undetermined creatures such as Sasquatch, among others that seemingly have no local habitation. All of these have in common spacial and\or space\time anomalies attached to them. What does the observer have in common with these anomalies? Is our orientation also multidimensional? Then again time has no language only spacial relationships to convey the information that it contains. This non linguistic language of spacial relationships could be considered a glyph in some sense as it is only through the lens of our own equations, whether they be mathematical or subjective, can we determine our relationship to spacial language.The again, we have OBE accounts some of which relate a seeming orientation that is presented in the mathematical model of the hypercube, wherein they are on the outside of our own spacial orientation, looking in.



Is a dimensional aspect of evolution about to unfold, or in historical terms, is a revolution in Copernican terms about to unfold? Consider another once anomalous phenomenon, complete with random, unrepeatable events, scientific skepticism, discounted eye witness accounts and all the same controversial dithering that attends the UFO phenomenon.This is the phenomenon of rocks falling from the sky or as we know now, meteorites.Then there is the matter of the NDE phenomenon.In this account which is typical in it's basic elements, has a subtext of critical assumptions that are enfolded into the experience, one of which is an encounter with a extra-dimensional being that this woman assumes to be God, just as easily one considers the role of superimposition and quantum information in this experience, and one wonders if alien encounters are a variant of this state of the receiver being the co-creator of the experiential reality that is being simulated in the physical brain as related to the mind.



Time and spacial orientation are joined at the hip. Time is a measurement of velocity by comparison, whether it is viewed through the framework of the theory of relativity, or in experiential terms., GI Gurdjieff described this mercurial phenomenon of sensation in relation to our experiential cognition within the continual passage of events as "the great subjective." Can time be sincerely termed to be "missing" in abduction cases? What is the basis of comparison? Here we have two superimposed measurements, one as measured by a device, whether it is an odometer or a watch, and the other internal as best described as a subjective sensation, as we have no local time displayed in these cases that reportedly take place in non local time. A better description of this phenomenon within an event may be called immeasurable time.

The Four Phases of Time As Correlates
When we refer to experiential time, what we are actually referring to is spacial time as a product of the senses. Sensation is the first response of the nervous system to stimulation from patterned energy in the world. Our sensory systems are organized into modalities, including vision, hearing, smelling, tasting, pressure and texture, temperature, kinesthesis (limb position and movement), and vestibular senses (gravity and body acceleration).
All of this leads ,in turn, to perception Perception is the active acquisition of knowledge about the self and the world through the senses The characteristics of the perceived world are locational perspective or, world perceived from a point-of-view, which has incomplete access to world or having a limited range, Also perception correlates the redundancy of information (e.g., depth cues of interposition and linear perspective)in relation to the former

Then, in juxtaposition to this there is the matter of mechanical time keeping devices which work at the linear level of one dimension at a fixed rate of velocity.This is an aid to our admittedly handicapped position of requiring a fixed reference point, whether it is the position of astrological objects or the velocity of forces that are limited to being superimposed upon our dimension in a manner they can be measured against a fixed reference point. Then again, this is a misnomer as Einstein had so accurately pointed our decades ago.Now we will superimpose another (third) reality of time, which is not a sensate time nor is it mechanical, linear time, this time could be considered dimensional or spacial time, the vast majority of which, out of eleven dimensions, we only have a cognizance of three. This then is also representative of geometry, as well as other aspects of mathematical language, which can also be visualized.



The fourth correlate of spacial time or space\time is non somatic, non mechanical and interfaces with all three of the previously mentioned phases, and that is being created as you translate these symbols into language, language to thought, thought correlated to semiotics, your data base of memory, your processing velocity, the velocity of light onto ocular simulations as you visualize nothing directly. This is a simulation of spacial relationships as internal processes.

As a result, we have somatic or sensory time, non sensory time,the simulation of time,and fixed mechanical time. So if we call an an anomalous experiential event of being in two places at the same time as immeasurable time, or if you will, the superimposition of non local time into local time, we see there is no missing time, simply we have no means to measure these correlates. Inversely, we cannot say that these events are theoretically impossible because we cannot measure them. The physicist Dr Claude Swanson has substantially extended Rodney Collin's theories as contained in "The Theory of Celestial Influence", which also further extends the theoretical interaction between celestial mechanics, sidereal time,energy exchanges between fields and the periodicity of PSI anomalies as they effect spacial orientations. Again, in the context of parallel universes and the potential interface between ourselves and presumably non human sentience, in this, there may be even a fifth correlation in this subset of dynamics.



What is The Interface Between Parallel Worlds?
If we have made the critical assumption that the hard wired variant of Ufological theory is largely illogical, as an exercise in critical thinking, rather than an edict, that is to say, remove certainty from our speculations, and if, as mentioned in the previous post that if the observer holds an equal share toward what is observed,when we speak of credibility, whose are we to chose in relation to what other forms of consensus as a standard, are we to apply?
This then is the study of the state of the observer, rather than the state of Ufology. If we study trace evidence, we find that high energy physics is usually cited. In my own speculations I have narrowed my research into what forces can effect both the material and the immaterial, mind and matter, which is ultra or infrasound and biophotonics. These are potential interfaces in sound and light mediums which correspond to biological systems and are measurable. One asks what is the demarcation between abductions, NDE and OBE as well as ghost phenomenon. Are the aliens of non extraterrestrial origin simply a form of non human ghost, that what really separates the ghost from the alien, the demons from the angels, if, perhaps the previously mentioned quantum information processing that occurs ( according to theory) when the state of the receiver has a direct impact on the content or state of whatever is sent, again, in these case from apparently another facet, albeit unseen to our cognition, of extra dimensions that exists beyond the realm of our direct cognition ?



If one studies quantum theory as applied to consciousness, research as focused on the role of presynaptic connections in the neural net of the physical brain which allows potentially the gate between states, an intermediary quantum state between the local and non local state that we occupy as adapted into a somatic system.

Why should the non human inhabitants of a parallel universe reinvent the wheel? If we are a transceiver medium as the research of Dr John C Lilly also indicated, then why bother with the clumsy, indirect difficulties of taking the long way around this mountain of distance by concocting a material craft? Why use snail mail? This in turn has led me to research the roles of cybernetics, system psychology, information theory and phenomenology in attempt to decode the Libary of Babel. This transcription of a superimposition of parallel worlds has led to some puzzling results as related in previous posts as related to my own experiences.

We have been sent a non linguistic cipher in the form of a type of signal communications that has no precedent that is prone to our superimposition of interpretation,in that the manipulation of form is seen as only that, as if the visual and sensory alphabet of this phenomenon had a reality of it's own, rather than it being a medium and that medium in fact, is the message. Do all the facets of the UFO phenomenon represent a quantum transmission in the form of a spacial language?

The Human Mediumship of The UFO Phenomenon

A Journey Through The Quanta of Oz In Ufology


The Inhabitants of The Library of Oz
This post began with a revisit to "The Library of Babel," wherein the brilliant Jorge Luis Borges outlined the recombinant knowledge base of human reality as well as fractal differentiation. On another level, this story is a metaphor of the human condition as it conveys the uncertainty principle as opposed to logic in the sense that information is not always intelligible, but, at the same time, suggests that the paradoxical may have it's root embedded within a larger context which eludes us. In this sense, this story could easily be relating the chronicles of the UFO phenomena.

Borges's narrator describes how his universe consists of an endless expanse of interlocking hexagonal rooms, each of which contains the bare necessities for human survival—and four walls of bookshelves. Though the order and content of the books is random and apparently completely meaningless, the inhabitants believe that the books contain every possible ordering of just a few basic characters (letters, spaces and punctuation marks). Though the majority of the books in this universe are pure gibberish, the library also must contain, somewhere, every coherent book ever written, or that might ever be written, and every possible permutation or slightly erroneous version of every one of those books. The narrator notes that the library must contain all useful information, including predictions of the future, biographies of any person, and translations of every book in all languages. Conversely, for many of the texts some language could be devised that would make it readable with any of a vast number of different contents.

Despite,indeed, because of this vast compendium of information, all books are totally useless to the reader, leaving the librarians in a state of existential despair. Then again, if we return to Charles Fort who ruminated on the exceptions to human experience, we see the slender historical thread that emerges onto our era, when he asked if the aggregate facets of these exceptions formed a pattern beyond simply coincidence. Someone once termed coincidence as a place marker rather than a final verdict and in this, I sense that I am as much a collector of hieroglyphic symbols that are referents rather than reading a direct meaning from the surface of these matters when it comes to the UFO phenomenon and the paranormal in general. Our self referential system psychology as a species is a formidable barrier, and as a result, many facets of this phenomenon are taken at face value whereas I have suggested that they are a superimposition on this inbred form of strictly defining matters on surface appearances, which is increasingly, the autonomic reaction to our place in the natural world. In this I suppose I am beyond the fringe of the fringe but then again, I am not seeking consensus but rather the truth of the matter, which in of itself, is a cautionary stance to take in regard to one's own capabilities.


However, Borges speculates on the existence of the "Crimson Hexagon", containing a book that contains the log of all the other books; the librarian who reads it is akin to a non-monarchical God or perhaps what Ervin Lazlo envisioned which is a "cosmic plenum", or that others, like Jung have termed the "universal mind" or in more arcane terms, Ibn Al Arabi's "delimited potentiality", a unimaginably vast realm of similarities that are, yet,less than the incomparability of all possible universes as an aggregate sum.

The Qubit of Superimposition
This in turn brings to mind, the quantum state, wherein the non locals meet the locals wherein yes and no are compatible in a potential state and station, between a dream and the linearity of language. In other terms we are faced with the superimposition of an open system upon a closed system in terms of philosophy, religion. science and evolution of our own relativistic paradigms, which, in terms of Ufology as a signet, of a larger dynamic at play,appears to be not only an provocative agent in this multi-layered contest, but rather a form of language of intelligibility that appears as strange and as chaotic as Mayan cryptography, which of course to those who can read it's symbols, is not a ruse, but rather, it is a previously unknown form of language.

In quantum mechanics, quantum information is physical information that is held in the "state" of a quantum system. The most popular unit of quantum information is the qubit, a two-level quantum system. However, unlike classical digital states (which are discrete), a two-state quantum system can actually be in a superposition of the two states at any given time.

Quantum information differs from classical information in several respects, among which we note the following; it cannot be read without the state becoming the measured value,an arbitrary state cannot be cloned and the state may be in a superposition of basis values. In other words, quantum processing of information is directly impacted by the observer who superimposes his own state upon the state of what is observed. This then is the subtext for this post, but then where would such a communication originate?



The seemingly endless variation of craft and occupants within the realm of UFOs, are perhaps in search of this Crimson Hexagon as well, or more likely, these recombinant facets of a unknown genome are the variants of our own nature, beyond the restrictive somatic nature of local realities in the quantum processing of an information field. What we may be seeing is a simultaneous superimposition of two states, the state of the observer and the state of the observed.

The Yellow Brick Road
Last year I posed a simple question whose answer is quite complicated. Does a UFO exist, if there is no one there to observe it? This is a variation of the question posed by physics. Does a tree fall in the forest if no one is there to witness it?

In posing this question, I have made a strange, but unintentional demarcation between myself and most researchers, in that no amount of field work would ever satisfactorily answer this question beyond simply further leading me off the path into paradoxical abstractions, which make for great campfire tales, but in reality or at least the one I tunnel through, has nothing to do with the nature of what lies behind the curtain. One could either call this philosophy, theoretical noodling or leaving no stone unturned.

Is this question a anthropocentric conceit or a reductionism or does this framing of a question represent a more complicated relationship between experiential reality and what is observed? I tend toward the latter more than the former as a matter of common sense. GI Gurdjieff, once observed that we have reached a state in our cognition wherein we trust our eyes less than we do our intellect. This wry statement as a truism certainly applies to the UFO phenomenon. Of course there is an inference in all this... which is that our senses are incapable of creating an unintelligible form, albeit it is certainly capable of producing one that is referentially nonsensical. Is the UFO phenomenon making hybrid oranges from apples?

Here is a tree. There you are. You do not see the veins of sap, the production of biochemical photosynthesis, the water being drawn upward, the small insects and birds sheltered in it's branches, and so forth. You see an image of a tree, you do not see it's relationship to it's environment, nor it's reproductive seeding, it's mutation and adaptation over time, nor the larger forest that lies beyond your binocular vision. This tree is the metaphor of the UFO. Not only can you not deduce these relationships solely by vision,or if you will, it's surface appearance, you already have a predetermined concept, a equation fashioned by thought, of a tree wherein your definition is predetermined. Is a cactus a tree, or a tall mulberry bush? And so the same applies, to it's observer, the human being.Perhaps we are upon a proverbial yellow brick road through this forest that contains a variety of species, each one a page in a vast library of differentiation, which further compounds this complexity.


To complicate matters more, you do not see the tree. The tree you see is a simulation of light. There are no green leaves, simply the effect of color perception in relation to reflectivity of it being irradiated in the spectrum of energy. The somatic brain colors the tree by the nature of it's perceptual capabilities, which could easily be termed limitations. A tree is a word in a book.

"Let us return to the wisdom under discussion. Know that universal matters which have no existence in themselves are without a doubt intelligible and known in the mind. They are hidden and continue in their invisible existence. These universal matters have jurisdiction and effect on everything which has an individual existence. Indeed, they are the same thing and nothing else, i.e. the sources of existent individual things, and they continue to be intelligible in themselves. They are manifest in respect of the sources of existent things just as they are hidden in respect of their intelligibility. Each individual existent thing depends on these universal matters which cannot be dislodged from the intellect, nor would their existence be possible in the source once they ceased to be intelligible, whether that individual existent is in-time or out-of-time. The relationship of that which is in-time or out-of-time to this universal intelligible matter is the same. This universal matter only has jurisdiction in individual existent things according to what the realities of these individual existent things demand of it. It is like the relationship of knowledge to the knower, and life to the living. Life is an intelligible reality; knowledge is an intelligible reality. Knowledge is as distinct from life as life is distinct from knowledge."
-Ibn al Arabi

This short extract from "The Metaphysics of The Imaginal Realm" poses a complex relationship in that as Dr Valle has suggested, information in of itself is a creature, albeit one that is cellular that creates form and not the other way around and that being unlimited in it's recombinant nature, we are in a sense, pulling in a limited amount from it that is defined by our own conceptual basis whether it is somatic or physic although then again these are one in the same in terms of a locus of a manifestation by way of the human species.Information has it's own reality, and we our own, but then this begs the question, that as an isthmus between these two worlds, while acknowledging information can be non linguistic, ( a plant or the sea) we may be a medium of transcription, intended as a diplomatic courier as well as a explorer of our intermediary state on the behalf of a sentient universe. In one sense, we occupy two sides of a mirror as a matter of this geometric station dimensionally, and so it it perhaps it is not too far a stretch that there are others, albeit non human, distant relations that are explorers as well, and we may seem as strange and fraught with cross purposes as we assume they are. Our tribal genome takes the stance of instinctual drives, that telegraph to us they want something material, a resource, whether it is mineral,vegetable, a water hole, a domestic herd of human slaves in conquest or the planet itself. Seldom is it remarked that all of these motives and intents we project, are perhaps of no use to them in the sense that they are, as a critical assumption, non human. Does a fish desire a loaf of bread?

Then there is the matter of location in this transitional waveform collapse. Where are you more likely to find a tree? For that matter UFOs? A tree is usually found near a water source, the opportunistic seeding that produces a tree certainly requires a certain range of tolerable environmental conditions. A tree will not grow in impermeable basphalt or crystal. Are we speaking of organic farming of another order? One could say that both the human and the non human if they share anything in common whatsoever, it is sentience, in a greater or lesser degree although my intuition suggests to me that our sentience is more akin to cellular intelligence. This parasitic relationship of superimposition has no hierarchy, as once again, if we study any locus of manifestation, no one aspect of this situation is more important than any other, except when it is studied in the bias of our psychology, wherein we define ourselves as a critical factor, whereas we may be the least by our own terms.

The Wizards of Oz
Returning to the fertile minds of the human species, perhaps we could say this medium of the mind is akin to soil as it is to the tree and is an environment that uses light to define relationships, shapes and forms. When we close our eyes and someone says "Imagine a tree" , we see a tree without the benefit of vision, yet we can envision it. If I said, "Imagine a UFO", the same process applies. However if I asked a respectable number of individuals to draw what they imagined, no two drawings would be exactly alike in this Library of Babel.


How have we envisioned nature or for that matter the supernatural or anomalous and unseen forces behind the curtain that The Wizard of Oz draws closed, over the centuries? Are these creatures in some sense related to how we envision ourselves as a supernatural creature, whose purpose and existence as related to consciousness, largely a mystery? Do we seek companions of a form that we lack when we attempt to conceptualize ourselves? Are we related to the Greys or The Wee Folk in some subconscious conceptual projection of a missing model for ourselves? If so then we might ask, are we strange attractors due to this? Or are each of us also producing what we attract? Is not a tree an attractor? Are we the Wizards of Oz that produces these effects behind the curtain of our concoctions produced by our limited self awareness? Do we have to decide to pump blood, make neurons connect, create blood cells, or produce hormones? What I am suggesting that we may possess a facility that we have no conscious awareness of much in the same manner as in the above listed examples, and so as a consequence we may be creating a transcription of other realities superimposed upon our own and instead of being the hapless observer, we in effect, make molds for the fluidity of a non human sentience. When we seek these allegedly omniscient creatures that we nearly always assume them to be with the baggage of our own desires seeking answers that we seemingly lack the capacity to fathom, we may find that due to our inability to fathom our own nature, we may have within us, a hidden translation manufactured by none other than ourselves. That is not to say that this is simply an illusion, but rather it is a form of sentient homeostasis, in that the Wizard of Oz we confront as alien occupants may be a transliteration of a reality we have no means to transcribe. What we view on the surface may be the machinations of a strange form of semiotic chaos, a version of the book in the aforementioned Library that is a inaccurate variant of what exists behind it's veil of appearances. Whether this is praiseworthy or blame worthy is beside the point as we point the finger in a misplaced value judgment, that we have been duped, when it is ourselves that is the actor in this situation.



This as it always has been in Ufology, marks a territory where Angels fear to tread, which is the implication that our role in this takes on a form of a unscripted form of theology, wherein, there is no script, no orders from the front office, no strings attached, other than we are the co-creators of what we seek. This responsibility may arise from the fact of our unconditional freedom to destroy ourselves or explore this realm is a choice not arising from a indifferent positioning, but rather the recognition that there is no substitution for experiential learning and development, and that any direct action would make the point of this gift moot. Influence through provocation is a Fortean dynamic, the lure that differentiates certainty which is a theological and decidedly human take on God as a monarch rather than a creator of opportunity. Less gracefully,as someone once said in Ufology terms, if anyone tells you they have the answer, they are full of s__t. This infers a provocation, toward uncertainty posed intentionally against logic, a logic that is full of black holes and dead ends when trying to transcribe reality as a mechanical phenomenon that is not conscious,but rather a system of differential gears and clockworks. Our own lives dispute this interpretation.

Can we successfully separate the tree from it's proclivity to attract certain forms of energy that are in of themselves capable of transmuting into a variety of forms that are material and yet at their root are also energetic? In this one can surmise that no two individuated facets of the manifestation of a tree are more more important than any other, nor are the relationships that produce a replicated tree in our imaginations, or for that matter indirectly envisioning it through our senses.
Is the ocular organ more important than the actual tree? Is the UFO more important than the observer? After several weeks of ruminating on the humanoid stick figure which blithely and yet demonstratively glided past my home on it's way from a forest to the nearby lake, what had sent me into a abstracted state now seems clear only in retrospect. As one who considers the universe as well as all of it's manifestations to be both inter-related as well as being the bearer of a strange cryptography of form via information, this was simply a demonstration of this principle of uncertainty versus logic, in that this hieroglyphic creature was telegraphing a confirmation that a non linguistic dialog is often a more powerful provocation to pursue these matters further than anything I could gain by asking provencal questions in my own comparatively prosaic context.

Is there a non local,parallel reality we inhabit that can cross these demarcations in order to engage us in a creative and energetic manner whereby we supply the localized form as a transliteration making it thus an intelligible, yet non nonsensical transcription of another variation of our own reality? Do our own forms change over time or for that matter, have they changed over the range of our own conceptions of self, over the centuries, as they relate to our environment?

In Part Two, we will travel further down this path....perhaps the creatures of this Oz are as directly attached to our world, as they are in their own, and we...the same, to theirs...the two perhaps are one in the same through the focal lens beyond our cognitive capability. Which book is to be read? The prosaic is a self comforting stereotype, a refuge for cliche, and so when we separate the UFO phenomenon as an existential abstraction, we remove ourselves, by the artifice of logic and certainty separated in dissection from the equation of the inner from the outer, the human from it's environment, the unseen from the seen, and attribute all of this as being external to our embedded status within it's purview and we within it.The unintelligible is simply a variant of a larger codex in this Library of Babel, and in this perhaps we are the medium of this phenomenon whose powers of cognition are framed by our sensate organs of perception, rather than the context, that has perhaps caused it's manifestation whether we are in Kansas or Oz. They may be the Janus face of a singular differentiation. Perhaps frame by frame, we have animated the potentiality of the Library onto the utility of a fated script that we ourselves have imagined in the homeostasis of our evolutionary trajectory toward greater complexity, although we cling fiercely to the comfort of an assigned role that we ourselves have created. Time is counted in the approach of a storm.

A Winter's Tale

In Memory of John Keel

"And Im laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin home
Where the New York City winters arent bleedin me, leadin me to go home..."
-The Boxer, Paul Simon


This is the story of John Keel who found himself potentially homeless being unable to pay his back rent on a apartment in New York City,as well as myself in relation to a series of events which led to my leaving my own childhood home in search of an elusive truth that still escapes my grasp, but was guided by possibilities brought forth by a someone I had never met.

Like Mr Keel, having diabetes and a heart related condition, as well as long since being considered a senior to many, I ruminated on Loren Coleman's account of Mr Keel's last days and posed myself a question, how would I fare if faced with the same financial maladies that trailed his every step against the undertow of infirmities that arrive by advancing age? The simple answer is a doubtful one.
Winter is the final human season, with the enveloping stillness that accompanies a journey fraught with a destination yet to be envisioned, while one pushes upwind against a prevailing storm.


Beyond the chronicles of every paranormal event, there is a flesh and blood human being, and that this person whom I never met, never conversed with, was familiar to me in ways that remain perhaps the chronicle of uncertainty, and that, despite the odds being in favor of the house, one's survival whilst swimming upstream opposed to the odds of ever reaching a confirmation that such a destination will be received by a welcoming greeting, is the courage all of humanity holds.

In this we all share a familial bond, as we seeming pack our lives with lessons for a future that may or may not arrive as we anticipated it.

One evening, at the age of 18,many decades ago,I was in my room, intently reading a very dense book on necromancy that I was forcing myself to digest inasmuch I felt it this was critical, in order to comprehend the context of it's compendium of seals and signets as there was... oddly, no text. I had found it in a used book store in Chicago, it had a tattered orange cover, and yellowed, brittle pages but oddly, no title or attributions, which intrigued me as this sort of a publication as such, was a rarity to my own experience. After much cross checking, I had determined to my own satisfaction that each of these seals were referencing obscure angels within a medieval context. All of this would lead to a later experiment that ran seriously amok, but that is another account best left for some later post. That night, a blizzard was making conditions outside a virtual "white out" of any visibility one could gain by peering out the window.

At the time I was still struggling through that most dense and even more abstracted, quasi-historical tome which some of you may know as "The Oasphe." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oahspe:_A_New_Bible which has taken a great deal of prolonged searching to locate. Neither of these books were to be undertaken lightly. One had to reconnoiter a certain athletic will to read them, let alone comprehend them. At the same time some music I had been playing, some guitar noodling like Peter Green's "The End Of The Game". In the midst of this somewhat intensive focus on my part I was interrupted by a persistent urge to go outside the warm confines of my room into this blizzard which increasingly irritated me by it's perverse purpose of interrupting my studies. I could not in good conscious, call this a voice that called me forth as it wasn't, but none the less, this manifested call was so out of context to my present activities, I thought such a compulsion was evidence of some sort of instability on my part as there was no logical reason to follow this urge.

There had been a precursor to this evening, as two anomalous accounts related to this writer by two friends, Craig S and Gil.I had been in Michigan visiting a young lady, when upon my return, I was confronted by their offense at a snub to them I had delivered while I was out of state. Both irritated and puzzled had asked me why I had walked past them on the street not acknowledging them or returning their greeting. When I informed them I was in another state, all three of us became equally perplexed.

And so with this sense of the unanticipated being a possibility, I donned my winter gear, feeling all along that this had to be one of the more bizarre behaviors on my part, but then again, I thought to myself that after a couple of minutes, my inner restiveness would be chilled to the bone.

I was no more than a block from my home, feeling ridiculous, when a enormous flash lit up the entire neighborhood and as far as I could see, in a glare that would be impossible to describe that did not seem to originate from any specific location.Everything looked as if it were an over exposure of a black and white photograph, frozen in time. I turned in a circle trying to determine the source to no avail. To the south, a light that appeared to be a floating multi-hued Christmas tree light slowly and horizontally passed behind a power pole, some distance away


Two days later, I received a card in the mail, the sort that one sends to someone who has suffered a recent passing of a loved one, in a funereal "sorry for your loss" type of floral design via an unmarked envelope. Inside was a hand written death threat.

My mother, over the morning breakfast later in the week, mentioned in passing, the black limousine parked alongside the curb, opposite our house that had idled in place all night long and passed off the recurring presence later the following day, saying it was probably "a debt collector," which of course, then and now, made no sense to me.


At this time a friend of mine, Pat, suggested we visit Kathy whose close friend had found in his bedroom, dead, hung by his neck, on his birth date. To say Kathy was upset was an understatement as she had spoken to him the day before and he was his usual self, not particularly concerned or upset about anything. The next event in this odd week, was another friend found hung by the neck from the rafters of a home under construction. Again, there was a connection to yours truly, and it was then, I began to reconsider the card I had received earlier in the week. All of us scanned the local papers for more information on this second event, but we found no mention or report of it.


It was then shortly afterward, I came upon John Keel and his strange accounts of MIB activity, odd events, the paranormal twists and turns he had encountered as well as the darker aspects of this sort of thing. It was if this book had been gifted to me personally, and upon reading it, while I had no great insight into the events of the previous week nor others, I sensed that he was upon a path that I recognized in my own life and that afterward, I felt that my own deep feelings of isolation and suspicions by having experienced these events,that somehow there was a thread in all this, and by this, they suddenly did not quite seem so bizarre. When I left home with fifty dollars in hand that following summer, and a back pack that contained his books as well as a few others, I had the temerity to discount my own fears, bolstered by the exceptions to what others considered rules, by the example of others, Mr Keel was certainly among them.

Later, I would find the others had experienced these bizarre flashes as well the idling black vehicles, and so forth but it was John Keel who opened the proverbial door just enough to allow my passage in order to search for an elusive context for these events. He was and is irreplaceable, and if the world seems lessened by his passing, it is due to the fact that it is.

When I heard of his diabetes, and heart condition, as well as his bitterness and anger toward his own helplessness in regard to his financial condition,I was struck by the rewards of this life in the tangible service he had provided to others, by being the iconoclast and individualist he was, and that there will be no way to repay him in this regard other than to acknowledge his work for future generations.


Another was his refusal to give into despair in the place of his stance as a feisty individualist who refused to accept an easy way out, a graceful exit or a simple rationalization.. There will never be another John Keel and throughout his career and in the last moments of his life, one senses there was no unconditional surrender to either his or our own circumstances, as an advocate for those who have no voices, that we could ascertain, beyond the courage of his pen. Hail and Farewell, Mr Keel, I am in your debt. Despite your return, homeward bound, the fighter still remains, in every page and word you had arranged.