Mindblogging

A lot of people knock remote viewing, or other psychic awareness such as telepathy as being imperfect. Surely, they argue, you must be able to get your details straight if you’re a real psychic. Just because its psychic they put the bar high and expect superior results.

The other day I had an appointment with my optometrist. It gave me a moment to consider vision and other senses, and how accurate they are. People say they’ll believe something if they “see it with their own eyes.”

But our eyes lie. All the time. And we shrug it off.

Humans can see only the tiniest sliver of the electromagnetic spectrum: that part called “visible light.” Move just slightly below or above that range, into infrared or ultraviolet wavelengths and we’re blind as bats.

Our television screens refresh at 60 Hz, or sixty times a second. That’s sixty individual frames per second. Thirty per second if interlaced. 1/60th of a second is an eon in our world of gigahertz computers, yet this is all the time it takes to fool our eyes into believing they are viewing a moving picture and not separate images.

Police officers and courtroom lawyers are well aware of how imperfect witness statements are. If three people see something happen, three different stories will result.

The point is that you can’t trust your eyes. We put so much stock into what they tell us, yet they are so easily fooled.

Now that this poor excuse for a sense has been exposed, how can anyone fault remote viewing for minor imperfections? People learn to use their eyes soon after birth. Their entire lives have been spent using their eyes. Still they lie!

On the other hand, remote viewing is usually learned well into adulthood. Few people have learned it from their parents. Or schools. Or friends. There is no optometrist who can help you better remote view. The viewer must dust off hundreds if not thousands of years of neglect and learn all over again how to use this sense.

Of course it doesn’t come easy! Of course it isn’t perfect! But none of the five physical senses are, either, and people have had their whole lives to get to know them. Given enough time and practice, remote viewing can become as strong as your so-called ordinary senses.

And hopefully, better.

Last night I watched Skip Atwater’s tape of Joseph McMoneagle‘s actual remote viewing session of Mars. Joe viewed ancient structures of Mars and conversed with their builders. It was fascinating to listen to an RV session done by perhaps the best remote viewer on the planet.

This morning I discovered the best remote viewer on the planet now has a blog. Check out Joe and Scooter McMoneagle’s blog and get a glimpse into the day-to-day minutiae of this amazingly talented couple.

Joe’s getting back surgery tomorrow, too, so he could also use your thoughts. Stop by and say hello if you get a moment.

One of the biggest challenges I faced was morse code school in the military. I was a fresh-faced Navy seaman recruit all of eight weeks in uniform and off I was to the Army Intelligence school at Ft. Devens to learn how to copy code. Every day I marched to the school, an intimidating set of rickety old buildings behind razor wire. The stakes were high: you either learned it or you didn’t. Those who didn’t were rumored to became an “IBMer.” That’s “instant boatswain’s mate,” meaning a relatively unskilled job on the deck instead of in secure spaces. There was no avoiding the code, either: you sat at your position until you got it right. It was a nightmare for many students. Probably every student.

I went to copy code, day after day, listening to tones in my earphones and reaching for the right typewriter key. At first it was far too conscious: by the time I figured out what the letter I heard, the next one was already playing. Clearly, something had to change if I was to succeed.

But succeed I did. As time went by, the dots and dashes became so familiar to me that I would hear them in music I heard on the radio. Before long, my finger would instinctively hit the key, sometimes before the letter’s code stopped playing in my ear.

Eventually, copying code became automatic. I didn’t have to think about what I was doing, I just did it! I had not trained my mind so much as I trained my body to react to the sound. Only when I could do it without thinking did I get good at it.

Its the same with driving a car, or riding a bike. When the skill gets so ingrained that one can do it without thinking.

Such is the level I need to achieve in the skill of remote viewing. In fact, I believe its even more crucial to remote viewing than other skills. The reason being is that conscious direction screws up remote viewing results, big time. The less one has to think about remote viewing, the better it works.

I didn’t realize the importance of this until recently, when I came to appreciate the role of the ideogram in the whole process. It sounds simple enough: sketch the first thing that comes to mind at the start of a session. Yet with the proper training, this skill can be imparted to one’s body, so that when an ideogram is needed, one draws one instantly and automatically.

This was also part of Ingo’s speech, how the autonomic nervous system could be trained. It was an insight into remote viewing I hadn’t discovered before.

It took me four months to become proficient in Morse code. I learned it so well I was the distinguished honor graduate of my class. That only came, though, with a hugely focused effort: full-time for four months with four years of my future hanging in the balance.

I can remote view now, there’s no question about that. However, if I want to really master it, I will have to make it automatic – just like I did for Morse code. The question is how to get there. Without months of intense focus, I’m afraid it will be a long, long time before I get there.