Friday, August 03, 2012

Wizards, Workings and Walk-Ins: Another Kind of Language

About three years ago, I marked the occasion of John Keel's death by writing about some of the strange, semiotic links I have to the Mothman. There were so many of them, and these syncs seemed to pop up at such important turning points in my career, that I thought it was all worthy of a post. I'll recap here:
• My first full-time job was at New England Comics, whose first publishing venture was The Tick by Ben Edlund. The Tick's sidekick was Arthur, a literal moth-man. Edlund was later an executive producer on the short-lived Fox series Point Pleasant.

• My first comic series was Halo: An Angel's Story, published by Sirius Entertainment. Soon after it was published I was called into a meeting with Crossroads Films, who were interested in developing a film project based on the comic. Crossroads was also a big ad production house and their star director was Mark Pellington, director of The Mothman Prophecies feature film.

• My lawyer at the time also represented Doug TenNapel, creator of the Earthworm Jim video game. Doug would also do a lot of comics work as well. His publisher was Top Shelf, also my publisher when I was an associate editor at Comic Book Artist magazine. Doug was the first to attempt a feature film based on the Mothman saga, which he shot in Point Pleasant.

• Last and most certainly not least, my editor for Our Gods Wear Spandex et al was actually from Point Pleasant, West Virginia and grew up immersed in first-hand Mothman accounts. Coincidentally, our first meeting took place on the same block where my demon neighbor Aleister Crowley began his notorious Amalantrah Working. A double coincidence since the publisher of Spandex was also Crowley's exclusive US publisher at the time.
Now, there is usually one clear takeaway with these kinds of compound synchronicities and that is to pay attention. It's an unusually reliable indicator that there is something waiting for you down the road these signs are pointing to. The problem is that I always misinterpreted the signal. I needed to undertake a deeper study of John Keel, not the Mothman itself.

Keel was a one-size-fits-all theorist when it came to all things paranormal. Ghosts, UFOs, psi, cryptids, gods and angels, you name it-- to Keel they were all Ultraterrestrials* in disguise. Keel's UTs were a transdimensional race of natural born troublemakers who could manipulate sound, light and matter and could exist at any point of their choosing along the electromagnetic spectrum.

You can't fault Keel for his energy or his dedication- he was doing his research the old, hard way-- poring through dusty old books and newspaper morgues. But in some ways all that effort seemed to instill a need to get the most bang for his paranormal buck-- everything he found was tossed into the Ultraterrestrial blender, regardless of credibility or even factual accuracy.

But all of a sudden there is a realization among a lot of people in the paranormal community--inspired in no small part by Andrew Collins' new book-- that maybe Keel and Vallee (and Kenneth Arnold and others as well) are right. Maybe UFOs aren't extrasolar, metallic spacecraft. Maybe it's another kind of intelligence that's been living among us all along.

Another kind of intelligence that speaks another kind of language.

My study of Keel has allowed to me to view some of the paranormal weirdness that's intruded into my life on occasion in an entirely new light. I generally don't like to talk about that stuff since it's entirely anecdotal and usually hinges on personal issues that require their own posts just to explain.

Needless to say, weirdness has followed me around my entire life. There are a number of incidents I can usually corroborate but cannot prove (the paranormal is by definition unprovable) and so haven't written about here. But at the same I don't need to argue their veracity because I see them all as signposts. I'm perfectly willing to accept the visionary aspect because in the end the question remains the same-- how did the event change the course of my life?

But if I were to explain all of these odd paranormal experiences to Keel, he wouldn't even blink.

He'd also offer his own theology of predestination as well. I happened to be born at the tail end of a major UFO flap and my expectant mother's recurring nightmares of a witch trying to break into the house while she was napping were no such thing, but simply garbled memories of encounters with a mischievous Ultraterrestrial. The fact that she later developed an owl obsession and that I would have my own (waking) encounter in the same exact spot several years later would be all the proof he needed.

What does fascinate me though is the lightning in the dining room during that encounter.
Given the hyper-real nature of the encounter and my heart-pounding, wide awake state at the time I've developed a working theory on the event, which seems plausible to me given the fact that so many people taking ayahuasca and DMT have had nearly identical experiences.

In my fevered state the DMT switch was thrown and the great filter was turned off. I noticed something and something noticed me noticing it, in the words of the John Keel stand-in in Mothman Prophecies. So that something put on a little show to ensure I'd chalk it all up to hallucination. It reached into my mind, pulled out the racial memory of the Leprechaun and the gold coins and placed that in front of the plasma show I wasn't supposed to see.

Keel argues that geology has something to do with all of this, as does Collins. Does this intelligence (or intelligences) use the energy from geologic faults and whatnot to manifest itself in our dimension? Or do they feed on this energy the way we do carbon-based foods? If so, that might explain why Braintree- and northeastern Massachusetts in general-- is such a magnet for weirdness, since the area is rich in granite. Collins sites granite (New Hampshire, home of the Betty and Barney Hill abduction, is officially known as "The Granite State") as a particularly effective conductor/source for this plasma energy.

In a Keelian context, my 2010 sighting doesn't seem so anomalous, either. I've heard it said that places like swamps and graveyards are also gateways (graveyards are filled to the brim with granite, aren't they?). If that's true, then my neighborhood must be the paranormal Grand Central Station, since there are six cemeteries in walking distance of where I sit right now. As I said (on Mike's show?), the glowing figure initially seemed formless until it took shape as a small person. I'm just glad my dog was with me because I really would have thought I was losing it.

Speaking of cemeteries, I talked about how our little showbiz kid clan used to summer together in Gloucester†, in a cottage near Good Harbor Beach. What I didn't realize until reading Keel is that the cemetery where Mark would bring us on summer nights to hold séances (this was the 70s- séances and Ouija boards were all the rage) was on the eastern border of the old Babson farm, where one of the strangest paranormal events in Colonial American history took place.
Returning home one night, Ebenezer saw two men leaving his house, but when questioned, his wife and children had not seen anyone in or around the house. He quickly left and decided to follow them, but soon encountered difficulty: the mysterious men did not leave any tracks...

Two nights later, the harassment at the garrison took on a darker, more sinister tone. Again, Ebenezer Babson spotted the two figures, but this time they were armed. Later that evening, Babson and another man named John Brown saw three armed figures and attempted to shoot them. The attempt was unsuccessful however, as they could not aim properly due to the quick movements of the figures.

On July 14, 1692, six figures were seen by the men of the garrison. At first, the men did not want to leave the security of the fort, but later went in pursuit of the mysterious attackers. Soon, one of them was close enough for Babson to shoot, but his gun mysteriously misfired.

What happened next was written in a letter to Cotton Mather by the Rev. John Emerson, a "rather excitable minister". He wrote, "Babson saw three men walk softly out of the swamp. Being within two or three rods of them he shot, and as soon as his gun went off they all fell down. Babson, then running to his supposed prey, cried out unto his companion....."he had killed three!" But coming about unto them they all rose up."
What fascinates me about ghosts is that like the overwhelming majority of UFO sightings, they are constructions of light. So if in fact any of this exists outside of the human imagination, Keel could very well be right-- this an intelligence composed of energy and not mass and expresses itself primarily as light, or plasma.

I would only add that it speaks to us, only the language is symbolic and synchronic, not verbal.
I wonder now if my "swamp gas" story should be reinterpreted in that context. Let's wind the clock back to 1988...

My wife, my son (who was a baby at the time) and I were driving through the Great Swamp-- the very same Great Swamp immortalized by Orson Welles in his notorious 1939 War of the Worlds broadcast -- to go shopping at the now-defunct Pathmark superstore. It was a beautiful night and the skies were crystal clear.

But something caught my eye- I noticed three stars in formation over the tree line. They seemed to be a bit on the bright side, but nothing out of the ordinary. But a funny thing happened and kept happening-- every time we came to a clearing and were able to see the skies the position of the stars completely changed.

My wife and I were very interested in astronomy at the time- we had a giant, glow in the dark star map on our bedroom wall, I was doing some backyard stargazing with a telescope, and even named one of our cats Boötes. So we weren't naifs when it came to the stars.

In any event, it was pretty freaky but we lost sight of them as got deeper in the hilly woods just outside the Great Swamp Road.

We did our shopping and left the store. As I was putting away the groceries and as my wife was strapping the baby in his seat a man approached us. He was tall, bespectacled, extremely heavy, unshaven and badly dressed. He spoke with a light accent which sounded Eastern European. He said that he had some baby furniture he was trying to get rid of, as well as things like strollers. My back was up immediately- why did this guy have any of this stuff? I didn't see any kids with him. My 80s horror movie imagination began to run wild on that particular speculation.

He spoke mainly to my wife, who was the one who didn't grow up in Braintree and so was more trusting. I looked over and saw a middle-aged woman standing stiffly against an old Ford LTD station wagon, looking at us with her arms folded tightly across her chest. My bad feeling got worse. I placed myself between my wife and the stranger and told him thanks, but we were all set. He backed off and away and said if we need anything he lived on the corner of such and such a street and we could drop by anytime. (Note: my wife just told me he also offered to babysit, which sends chills down my spine just thinking about it).

I finished putting the groceries in the trunk and looked over at the Ford. The stranger was sitting there watching us intently while he smoked in the dark car. Even in the dark I could see the deep discomfort on his wife's face. We never saw either one of them again but the creepy feeling stayed with me a long time after. I realized just recently that this had in part inspired my "Pilot" nightmare (all of my worst nightmares are based in real-life events).

Now for almost a quarter-century, this was my "swamp gas" story, a weird conjunction of a will o' the wisp sighting and a disturbing encounter with a stranger in a dark, empty parking lot.The problem is that when I was looking up images of swamp gas ignitions for this piece, I couldn't find a single one that looked like the weird star formation we saw over the swamp. Nothing. Looking back I don't think we were looking at methane explosions at all.

I'm well aware that this is exactly the kind of story that would be presented as a (yet another) screen memory of an abduction encounter- a young family driving down a dark, deserted road, strange lights in the sky, an anomalous encounter with a predatory stranger speaking in a strange accent.

It's almost Betty and Barney Hill Redux (all the more so since my wife's first name is also Elizabeth and "Hill" and "Knowles" are essentially synonymous) But there was nothing dreamy or vague about it- on the contrary I can still remember the adrenaline-induced crystal clarity of the confrontation.

But that's not to say there wasn't something deeply strange about it all. Those strange lights could well have been a communication, a warning that something was wrong, something bad was about to happen.

In another kind of language.

Sync Log: While working on this piece I found this story
in an X-Files comic collection
I ordered last year and lost before I could read. Click to enlarge.

There's a tendency these days to chalk all of the paranormal to negative forces, thanks in part to the 24/7 EvangeliCIAl noise machine, but I strongly disagree with these interpretations. I think a lot of people have experienced strange interventions on their behalf, but have become too embarrassed by the angel nuts and browbeaten by the skeptics to talk about them openly.

I've long believed that experience with the Paranormal is a lot like an acid trip. Your experience is going to reflect the expectations and baggage you bring into it. John Keel seemed to be a very bitter, cynical and deeply paranoid man, and people have long speculated that he had a particularly unpleasant encounter sometime in the 70s that colored his work for the rest of his life.

In a recent interview with Jeffrey Pritchett, Brett Raynes explained why Native American cultures don't share the same negative expectation of the paranormal that the mainstream culture brings to the table:
In the beginning of a Native American vision quest ceremony, the Trickster was generally expected, according to their belief system, to put in an appearance, to test these initiates to see if they were worthy to gain higher knowledge and wisdom. If they failed to discern the truth and see through the Trickster's web(s) of deception, then their unworthiness might leave them to progress no further up the ladder of truth.

However, if they could see through the surface illusions of what the Trickster was actually teaching, then they could proceed up the ladder a little further to discern higher truth and wisdom. Unfortunately, a lot of people let their ego get in the way and both their ego and their lack of discernment ability causes them to embrace only what their preconceived belief-oriented "comfort zone" would allow. Thus they're stuck at the bottom rung of the ladder, like an earth-bound ghost clinging to the Middle World.
And until we are willing to learn another kind of language, that's exactly where we will stay.

* I've come to revise my own related Elusive Companion Theory-- I originally stated that the companions we are dealing with were in fact the Igigi/Grigori of ancient accounts, now I believe that may be a case of mistaken identity on the part of our ancestors. I realize the temptation to put it all in one box, but there is the possibility that we are looking at two separate phenomena, separated by millennia.

But the old school Trekker in me also likes to entertain bizarre ideas about the hypothetical ancient gods. What if they were in fact these discarnate transdimensionals taking human form? Maybe then those rituals of sending the Ka via starlight to be with the gods is a bit more literal than some might want to believe. Are these weird science and black projects the Elite are throwing king's ransoms at all about trying to follow in the ancient gods' footsteps and evolve into discarnate beings themselves?

† I also spent a lot of time at Mark's family's home when I was young, which was on the outskirts of the old Fort Devens and Shaker Country. I mention it because at the end of their street in a wooded area was one of those mysterious stone chambers.


  1. The Babson item you quote triggered a recollection that in 1692 Gloucester was also caught up in the Salem witch-trials -- and sure enough, Babson himself was in the thick of it. As a result, what you say about ghosts being constructions of light also has me wondering about these spectral French soldiers and Indians mentioned below. I can understand his mother's general anxiety, given that this was the middle of King William's War ('s_War) -- but spectral? There may have been more high weirdness surrounding the Salem witch-trials than our rationalizing histories ever credit.

    Andover and Gloucester had more accused witches than any other towns outside of Salem. A total of nine Gloucester women were accused of witchcraft during the hysteria of 1692: Esther Elwell, Margaret Prince, Elizabeth Dicer, Joan Penney, Phoebe Day, Mary Rowe, Rachel Vinson, Abigail Rowe and Rebecca Dike.

    Not much is known about these cases since many of the records have been lost. What we do know is that the accusations began in September of 1692, when Gloucester resident Ebenezer Babson asked some of the afflicted Salem village girls to visit his mother, Eleanor, who was complaining of spectral visions of Indians and French soldiers. Upon visiting Eleanor, the girls accused Margaret Prince and Elizabeth Dicer of bewitching her. ... Shortly after, in October or November, James Stevens, a deacon of the local church and lieutenant in the militia, sent for the afflicted girls of Salem village to name the witch he believed was bewitching his sister Mary Fitch, wife of John Fitch. The girls named Rebecca Dike, Esther Elwell and Abigail Rowe.

    Actress Sarah Jessica Parker has gone from “Sex and the City” to Witch City. ... Her tenth great grandmother, Esther (Dutch) Elwell of Gloucester, was arrested along with two other women, and the historical society still had the original court records. Parker was dismayed, describing peoples’ behavior during the trials as “the worst of us.”

    According to the records, her ancestor and the other two women were charged with “wicked and feloniously committed sundry acts of witchcraft...”

    A Gloucester woman named Mary Fitch had recently fallen ill with an unexplained sickness. Soon after, a 17-year-old Elizabeth Hubbard accused Elwell and the other women, or at least their “spectres” of “pressing, squeezing and choking of Mary Fitch.” That night, Fitch died, and the three women were arrested for murder.

  2. All is mind Chris. The world may not be real. Anything is possible. The biggest mystery is why individuation in the first place. Was it a mistake. Some Jews talk of "repairing the face of God". God got it wrong and needs help to re-orientate the world. Others say there is a "blueprint". It is a holy mystery.

  3. Another point Chris. In the face of this mysterious world a person must first come to the realisation that they know nothing. They must acknowledge their foolishness and strive toward humility and constant awareness of their foolishness. The realisation should make the stomach queasy. It should bother you. It should make you squirm like those embarrassing moments the memory of which bring on a cold sweat. As the saying goes "The man who realises he is a fool is not such a fool". A person must retreat from error. No self deception. In this way he turns his life into a prayer that may one day be answered.

  4. Paul and Ben Eno have talked about the old swamp encounter you recall here. It is also like the Hopkinsville encounter as well. I'm so happy to hear the idea that the "paranormal" is "evil" is not something you necessarily want to foster. As revealed by Andy Colvin in his decades long research it is my opinion that Mothman was intended as a warning, an attempt to enlighten and warn people of something coming, something dangerous. Just like in the MP movie when the Keel stand in describes the abilities of the creatures as akin to a window washer high up above the city, they know what is coming in that way, maybe even more as in real future seeing too. I just got the book by Collins and am looking forward to reading it. It would stand to reason Chris that if the ultimate life form is sentient energy that they would have some abilities that would enable them to manipulate matter and reality in ways. That might also allow them to take on physical forms and alter perceptions. It's Archon like too. Fascinating discussion for sure.

  5. @tenebroust
    although all of these things are traits that humans themselves have displayed in one way or another, at least imho. ive wondered for some time if instead of walk-ins perhaps at least some of these observable phenomenon can be lumped in w/ human spirits (sentient energy) affecting the environment outside their shell. like astral projection but on a radically different scale, or perhaps even some other species here on earth, whales for example?

  6. Chris, I have a family of owls in the cottonwoods to my west. With every hoot my minds eye gets introspective. They alert me to the wonderous mysteries that we human beings are presented with. Something is always afoot, something always begging our intuitive attention. Shineforth brave souls. Dennis

  7. I find your mother's dream of interest. While her encounter with a witch may have just been a paranormal dream, I grew up being warned of actual "witches" known as "yee naaldlooshii" (meaning "with it, he goes on all fours") or "skinwalkers." The Diné/Navajo reservation I grew up on is about four hours north of Phoenix, where I live now and as recent as two years ago my grandmother had a terrifying encounter with one of these evil shaman/medicine men. I have always been fascinated with the Mothman legend, especially because of the description of it being a large, man-moth (or owl) hybrid. Witnesses have said that it has menacing red glowing eyes, which is what I have always been told skinwalkers have (my youngest aunt who is a very talented artist in Tucson has even seen one looking directly at her through a window when she was a child). Part of the Mothman legend involves a Native American curse of the land surrounding the original sightings which makes me think more about the connections. These perverse shape-shifters are so taboo in our culture that my grandmother was even hesitant to tell my mother and I about her latest encounter when we came to visit her but it just sort of came up as we were leaving, after spending the weekend with her. She woke up in the middle of the night when she heard some noise coming from a dining room window that she always leaves open to let cool air in during the summer. She used to be traditional in the Navajo religion but now she's Christian and anytime her intuition/spidey sense tells her something, she says that it is "God," so that's what she interpreted the negative feeling as when she went to the window. Her instincts told her to make a fist and hit the curtain that was pulled down over the open window as hard as she could and as she did, the curtain opened as she punched a large man wearing a flannel shirt that was open enough that she could feel his furry chest on the back of her hand as he growled and jumped back. She called the police (who are aware of this paranormal activity and are required to investigate it) but because there are only 50 or so police officers on 4 states of reservation, it took them a few hours to get to her house. By the time an officer arrived, whatever was trying to break into her home was long gone but the police officer and she found strange animal tracks that she said looked like what I can only guess would be considered cloven hooves (she made a three-point shape with her fingers so I don't really know). She said the tracks went from standing next to the window to going toward the backyard fence, every six or seven feet, as if it was jumping away and right over the fence. The whole neighborhood she lives in is full of practitioners of the old pagan/rural religion so it is hard to determine who this was but she immediately suspected her next door neighbor because of the flannel shirt. She said a few weeks later, there was a flannel shirt soaked in blood, buried poorly beneath the same window outside, which she picked up with a rake and burn with some trash. She turned 65 this year and my mother and I would like to get her off of the reservation but she's a proud older woman and her faith in "Jesus" keeps her feeling brave in a part of the country that is forgetten by most. My greatgrandmother used to always tell us that if you shine a light in an animal's eyes and they don't glow the way their supposed to or if the animal looks mutated or abnormally large, then it probably is not a true animal. Late at night, you can hear these things in your yard, especially when it rains or is windy. In November 2008, one allegedly showed up at a casino that was built on an ancient Anasazi burial site, a decision that was controversial when the site was chosen for the location:

  8. Wow- I find that fascinating because in fact my mother is one-quarter Navajo. So in the same spot I was speculating on a Leprechaun emerging from the racial memory of my father's side, a skinwalker does so to my mother. That is absolutely fascinating.

  9. Hey Chris,

    Makes sense. Remember the brain scientists use electrodes and magnetic fields to alter the perception of people in sense deprived Faraday cages. It seems geological electromagnetic disturbances can affect what we feel, and imagine which are basically brains interpretive machinery. So the idea of granite which also is documented to emit weak gamma rays and vibrate due to piezoelectric effect to be a involved in paranormal experiences makes sense to me.

    Now as for the idea of plasma beings or plasma thought forms is still beyond the edge of our scientific cliff but computers, A.I.'s and animals use nerves, electric signals to generate a form of intelligence does seem plausible.

    As for the nature of these "plasma beings" is something that can only be answered with speculation. Like you I have read myths and stories of beings of light i.e. devas, fairies, angels and it seems that the fact that this sophisticated idea is recorded in our earliest myths seems to indicate it may have been a worldwide phenomenon once experienced by our ancestors when they were noble savages in the wildness of nature. Perhaps there simpleness and their close communion with natural forces may have given them the right state of mind to experience them.


  10. I know these things aren't supposed to matter but it is good to know that you are one of us. I love dreams...too bad our oppressors don't feel the same way. Have you ever seen what a calcified (by fluoride) pineal gland looks like? This.

    My grandmother always told us that the old traditions were "evil" and we were raised in a hypocritically strict Christian setting. On the last visit earlier this year (had to be this year, as the old age is ending), she told my mother and I that her mother's father and her grandmother were both traditional healers who treated people using herbs, prayers and singing. I was surprised to find out that not only are healers in my family but that my name, Quentin, means "the fifth" and Hermes Trismegistus was known as "the fifth" Hermes, who is of course Mercury, the ruler of my astrological sign Virgo. My middle name is Micah, meaning "who is like Iah/YHWH," the Hebrew god who brought them out of Egypt and was originally known as Thoth/Djehuti, the Egyptian Hermes and scribe of the gods (and later their creator). My mother always tells people how when I was a child, even before I could read or write, I walked around with a notepad and pen. Finally, in astrology and magic, my archangel is Raphael, whose name means "God Heals." I never really had any interest in astrology or any other type of divination but you have to wonder why great men throughout history and even the Bible (Abraham, Moses and King Solomon) were believers.

  11. Exhilirating Christopher.

    Like reading an account of the 'mystical' equivalent of Stonewall at the moment when the headscarfed transvestite in the miniskirt with the huge head of rollers and impossibly high heels waddles upto the row upon row of (Psi)Cops and says "Enough is enough. I don't have to explain myself to you or take pills or undergo electrotherapy or spend time in a padded cell because you think people like me shouldn't exist and ought to be straightened out. Hey! I am what I am and if you don't like it...FUCK YOU!"

  12. Great stuff, as ever, Chris. Keep on keeping on. I'm very busy at the moment but will check in properly when I get some time. Peace.

  13. Hey again, Chris

    You know, your noting of language in connection with all this high-weirdness has got me thinking about my own fascination with language, and how language can be perceived in various lights.

    At uni, as a Lit student, I was able to really delve into my fascination with language, semiotics, etc. I came to realise that language is basically a vast, interrelated web of tensions. When I say tensions I mean fuzzy units of compressed metaphorical potency. I think because language is essentially an imaginary construct it has the paradoxical quality of only needing to refer to ITSELF for meaning, nuance and context.

    Language is a shapeshifter. Language can be written or spoken, audio-visual, and associative. Hieroglyphs for example are incredibly potent units of metaphor, the historical and cultural nuances of which are largely lost to us now. Thinking of language as movements in rhythms of tension calls to mind 'Authors of the Impossible', and Jeff Kripal's work in general.

    I know I bang on about language quite a lot in the Sun's comments section, but I really do feel that language is magical, in the fullest and most romantic sense. I think each piece of art or discourse has it's own unique language. I can't help but read even the driest engineering manual, for example, and see the poetry between the lines, between the letters themselves, and even in the punctuation.

    I think this is because when you search for complexity and context you become acutely aware of language. One important thing I want to try to convey here is that language isn't just the movement; it isn't just the creative, combining faculty of the mind at work. It's also the context and medium of its delivery. I mean to say, it isn't just the words or images or feelings, or the way we blend and shape and reshape, it's also the page itself, or the canvas, or the screen. But also it's the context for the placement of that page or canvas. This context is psychological, social, historical, economical, etc.

    Language is all the things that have conspired to create a confluence that allows a human to articulate its interiority; its dreams and desires and fears. The fact of this is utterly remarkable, and this is why I believe that we are indeed authors of the impossible. The very context that allows us to even frame language and discuss it whilst being contained WITHIN it is a genuine magical situation.

    But we forget this, don't we? We're so used to a ton of 'Ordinary Impossibles' that we forget just how incredible sentience - and by extension, language - really is. If we're largely numb to the magnificence of our own various languages, it's no wonder we're having trouble sensing the presence of other mysterious, mercurial languages flitting all around us.

    Language is the manifesting of rhythms of tension; it can be inclusive and embracing and fuzzy, but it can also be exclusive, analytic and razor-sharp. I suspect that various things can give us access to strange new languages; corner-of-the-eye watchfulness, diligence, creativity, curiosity, and sometimes even various kinds of trauma can shove us into a new linguistic framework.

    The telepathy of children when they first negotiate with language is astounding; their constant immersion in it whilst not quite understanding what it is, or how they're doing it. I think we as humanity are at a similar place right now - we're absorbing strange data and new insights into high-weirdness and consciousness, faster than ever before, but we still don't really have a handle on it. We're being forged at the heart of a crossroads, I suspect. There's a big X in the cosmos, called Interplay, and it's teasing us with the intimations of a new Gnosis.