Just returned from a long visit home in CT to visit family and particularly my mother, who is 87, has progressive dementia and may well have a terminal recurrence of breast cancer. On the flight out, I changed from the difficult and long book that I have been reading to lighter fair, one about Full Disclosure of UFO contact - how it might happen and what might happen when (not if) it occurs. This book is essentially preaching to the choir, and I, being one of the choir, have found it soothes some need in me for the awesome to occur.
I have no doubt that some form of "other" contact has occurred and is occurring, due to several second hand experiences that I may have mentioned in this blog before. For instance, my high school and college-era girlfriend's family, who lived about a mile from my parent's house in the hilly countryside of rural Connecticut, were woken one night by bright lights outside their windows. Looking out over the hills, they saw a huge disc, of a hundred yards or more in diameter, hovering over a well-known family's farmhouse not more than a half mile from my (parent's) own. They all - my girlfriend's sister and her parents - watched it for more than an hour, lights spinning around the disc, until they grew tired and went back to bed (!) A few weeks later I asked the father about it and he replied angrily, "I didn't see nuthin'!", a sure sign that he did. The daughter, about 12 then, was enthusiastic about it, though, and no one contradicted her. At that same time, cattle mutilations were occurring behind my parent's land, the stories of removed genitalia and tongue and eyes "as if by a surgeon" printed in the local paper. Something, indeed, was occurring.
My father, a gunner on a B-29, also saw "cigar-shaped vehicles" floating next to his squadron - as did everyone else. These vehicles would hover by the planes for several minutes, then veer away at radical angles at incredible speed - beyond what they then had in technology, not to mention what we have now. When reported, they were all told to keep quiet, as an order of "national security." This was shortly before the war's end, when another B-29 dropped the notorious A-bombs on Japan.
Then there are the tales told nationally by police, pilots, everyday people, etc, etc, to such an extent and with such similarities that it is difficult to doubt that something is going on.
I believe, not because I want to, but because of the evidence; and I am excited about the prospect of "full disclosure," something the authors of my book think is inevitable - and will change life on Earth forever.
I cannot disagree. But while sitting with my mother across from her old wooden kitchen table - a table given to her by her mother after she was married in 1949 - I felt the slightest touch of impending death, one that I had first noticed shortly before my father died. In that time, I had sat by his hospital bed and talked of recent events both familial and political. He had said "hello" at my entrance, but after a few minutes of talk, I realized that he was not listening. Instead, he was elsewhere, far away beyond my reach. Everything I had said then seemed petty and stupid, as if the shadow of death made all our concerns irrelevant. I felt that again sitting by my mother, only briefly but mistakenly: that eerie vacuum of silence, the standing before the incomprehensible that made all I knew or said vacuous.
And so I thought on the flight back as I popped open the book on UFO's again: what is the point to this? In the face of that dark eternity, what is the point? This would concern, too, all matters I have recently written about, such as "genius" and Psi. Compared to that which deals with the infinite, that is, true spirituality and religion, what is the point of everything else?
This point, I think, is the truth; and yet, other things must take up our lives. We are not of the infinite world, not yet, and until we are, such things as we have made of our world - or agreed to make of our world from somewhere beyond where we talk to the angels or creative darkness itself- remain for a time relevant. And there is a hierarchy. Do Psi phenomena not talk more to the infinite than, say, an action movie or an IPod? Isn't UFO contact more relevant to the Greatness of Being than struggles in congress over domestic policies? And yet billions are spent on these simpler, time-contingent matters. Higher plains of knowledge are not to be compared with the field of ultimate knowledge, but they are higher plains. And if I watch the evening news and read the daily paper, should I not write of these things that dwarf their relevance? I have felt the void, but am not there yet. I will keep things in perspective hopefully, but as a contingent being, I cannot help but be interested and involved in those things that bridge that contingency with other realms of consciousness that may be many times greater - smaller than the reality of my dying parents, but still, for a time, worthy of interest. FK
I have no doubt that some form of "other" contact has occurred and is occurring, due to several second hand experiences that I may have mentioned in this blog before. For instance, my high school and college-era girlfriend's family, who lived about a mile from my parent's house in the hilly countryside of rural Connecticut, were woken one night by bright lights outside their windows. Looking out over the hills, they saw a huge disc, of a hundred yards or more in diameter, hovering over a well-known family's farmhouse not more than a half mile from my (parent's) own. They all - my girlfriend's sister and her parents - watched it for more than an hour, lights spinning around the disc, until they grew tired and went back to bed (!) A few weeks later I asked the father about it and he replied angrily, "I didn't see nuthin'!", a sure sign that he did. The daughter, about 12 then, was enthusiastic about it, though, and no one contradicted her. At that same time, cattle mutilations were occurring behind my parent's land, the stories of removed genitalia and tongue and eyes "as if by a surgeon" printed in the local paper. Something, indeed, was occurring.
My father, a gunner on a B-29, also saw "cigar-shaped vehicles" floating next to his squadron - as did everyone else. These vehicles would hover by the planes for several minutes, then veer away at radical angles at incredible speed - beyond what they then had in technology, not to mention what we have now. When reported, they were all told to keep quiet, as an order of "national security." This was shortly before the war's end, when another B-29 dropped the notorious A-bombs on Japan.
Then there are the tales told nationally by police, pilots, everyday people, etc, etc, to such an extent and with such similarities that it is difficult to doubt that something is going on.
I believe, not because I want to, but because of the evidence; and I am excited about the prospect of "full disclosure," something the authors of my book think is inevitable - and will change life on Earth forever.
I cannot disagree. But while sitting with my mother across from her old wooden kitchen table - a table given to her by her mother after she was married in 1949 - I felt the slightest touch of impending death, one that I had first noticed shortly before my father died. In that time, I had sat by his hospital bed and talked of recent events both familial and political. He had said "hello" at my entrance, but after a few minutes of talk, I realized that he was not listening. Instead, he was elsewhere, far away beyond my reach. Everything I had said then seemed petty and stupid, as if the shadow of death made all our concerns irrelevant. I felt that again sitting by my mother, only briefly but mistakenly: that eerie vacuum of silence, the standing before the incomprehensible that made all I knew or said vacuous.
And so I thought on the flight back as I popped open the book on UFO's again: what is the point to this? In the face of that dark eternity, what is the point? This would concern, too, all matters I have recently written about, such as "genius" and Psi. Compared to that which deals with the infinite, that is, true spirituality and religion, what is the point of everything else?
This point, I think, is the truth; and yet, other things must take up our lives. We are not of the infinite world, not yet, and until we are, such things as we have made of our world - or agreed to make of our world from somewhere beyond where we talk to the angels or creative darkness itself- remain for a time relevant. And there is a hierarchy. Do Psi phenomena not talk more to the infinite than, say, an action movie or an IPod? Isn't UFO contact more relevant to the Greatness of Being than struggles in congress over domestic policies? And yet billions are spent on these simpler, time-contingent matters. Higher plains of knowledge are not to be compared with the field of ultimate knowledge, but they are higher plains. And if I watch the evening news and read the daily paper, should I not write of these things that dwarf their relevance? I have felt the void, but am not there yet. I will keep things in perspective hopefully, but as a contingent being, I cannot help but be interested and involved in those things that bridge that contingency with other realms of consciousness that may be many times greater - smaller than the reality of my dying parents, but still, for a time, worthy of interest. FK
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