Its been two years since I did any real remote viewing (and a long time since). I take it for granted that it can be done as I’ve done it myself.
Traveling on busines tonight, it struck me again just how astonishing the skill of remote viewing truly is. I suppose I’ve been so caught up in the study of it, perhaps keeping it at arm’s length in many ways, that I’ve forgotten how incredibly revolutionary it is.
It truly is an astonishing skill: one that I will strive to improve from now on.
I just finished reading Blink, the excellent book by Malcolm Gladwell exploring the power of the first impressions. While the book seems a bit less sure-footed than his earlier book The Tipping Point, it did provide useful insight which may be applied to remote viewing.
When my did my first remote viewing workshop with Joe McMoneagle, Joe instructed us to draw our impressions rather than put them into words. Doing so seemed to provide me many “hits.” An image would come and I would draw it, usually with some aspect of the target represented. However, when I put my thoughts into words, frequently I am not as successful.
Research mentioned in Blink may provide a big clue as to why this is. Psychologists Jonathan W. Schooler, Stellan Ohlsson, and Kevin Brooks co-authored a paper called “Thoughts Beyond Words: When Language Overshadows Insight.” Essentially, th act of reducing an image down to fit into words causes the brain to lose track of the original image. The image in the mind is altered to match the describing words.
The same could also be a big stumbling block to remote viewing, where the target’s wispy impressions vanish when the brain’s verbal section kicks in to describe them. It shows me how I would be much better off sticking to sketching my impressions.
You can read more about the researcher’s fascinating insights at this article: Words Get In The Way.
Watch what Shannan Rohde does to this poor, defenseless spoon. Wow. I’m so jealous! Though I have yet to do it myself, I do not doubt for a minute that it can be done because I have witnessed it several times with my own eyes. Once I bend my own spoons I’ll post a video here, too.
Of course, Rohde has now attracted the zealots from the Randi camp, who claim that Rohde is faking it. Once one of them creates a video duplicating Rohde’s feat I’ll be happy to post it here, too.
Boingboing editor Mark Frauenfelder has fallen under the spell of hack stage magician James Randi, who’s so-called $1 million challenge claims to show psychic ability doesn’t exist. What actually doesn’t exist is the $1 million Randi says no psychic has yet claimed, according to some digging by Sean Connolly.
Like the old carny he is, Randi gets nervous when anyone too nosy wants to look up his sleeve. He doesn’t really check out psychic claims, and in turn journalists (including editors of otherwise top-shelf blogs like BoingBoing) never check out Randi’s claims.
Randi’s already-outsided ego (um, do you know anyone who calls themselves “amazing?”) is in need of stroking, so he should be flying high with the ego-stroking geek circle-jerk that is TED.
The memory is the reality, not the event itself. We have it backwards.
Damn. That sure came out of left field!
I just woke from a fantastic dream, one that left me crying. Physically whimping upon waking. Any time I wake up asking myself “gee, why am I crying,” its a sign of a Really Big Dream. This one was a Really Big Dream: one in the same league as the ones I had foretelling the birth of our children.
It was a movie but I didn’t know it was a movie. I was just living it, or writing the script. A handful of friends were just hanging out, each slowly building relationships with others. They were downtrodden, just getting by, but they were true friends to each other. They didn’t care that none had money or status – they trusted their hearts.
These friends held each other up and listened to the others problems and did their best. Eventually, things fell into place for them in each’s chosen way.
One of them worked as a security guard at a nearby plant. Another was the son of Steve Ballmer who married another woman of the group named Joi Ito.
I was another member of the group. My luck was buying the winning lottery ticket. At the end of the dream everyone was saying “Mark, you won the lottery! You won the lottery!” I slowly began to accept this but always remembered my downtrodden friends. We had all started small and that experience forged us into sensible people. Fate rewarded them for their pureness of heart.
I woke up literally whimpering with tears in my eyes upon hearing this wonderful story. I felt at the end that it was a movie script, a Gump-like story but difinitively “based on a true story.” And it was my story and I was very proud of it.
I don’t know what compelled me to sit down and capture the smallest fraction of this dream. The emotion I felt upon waking was real. The only other dream I’ve ever had with this much pure emotion was my “annoucing” dreams: dreams fortelling the birth of my children. I am awed by its intensity, and more than a little curious of its true source.
I felt like I’ve been given a gift, or about to be given a gift. The dream told me it was mine because – like the Willy Wonka / Charlie And The Chocolate Factory story – I had proven worthy of it.
The characters in the story were all me in some way. Each had stayed together just because we liked each others’ company. Each chose a role based on our interests yet stayed close to the others out of our friendship bond.
As I continue to write, the thought arises that the group in my dream may be me as an “oversoul.” That’s why I was many people bonded together, but all me, with many things in common. It seemed that our group had associated with each other for so long that – like the way an old married couple starts to mirror each other – the lines between us eventually blurred. Though we were free to associate with anyone – and did – we felt compelled to be together and that could never change. Each of us was an individual section of a complete circle.
I feel now the emotion I had upon awakening (and still have now), was either from my oversoul smiling favorabily on the exciting day I had yesterday here in Shanghai, rather than a sign I will actually win the lottery. Yet as I write this I feel the winning is true and undeniable. I should not dely in purchasing my ticket (more words I felt compelled to write).
I feel if somehow I just turned a corner in my life, finally mastering some long-challenging puzzle. The pride I feel now seems to validate that – that same kind of pride. I feel my reward awaits for me to claim it.
A more disturbing view of this dream-and-reward scenario is that I am soon to rejoin my oversoul. In other words, I will soon die. If that is so I feel its meant to be without a doubt, and for that I feel no concern. The dream’s script built to a wonderful conclusion – many plot lines magically assembled themselves into solutions in a beautiful sequence. Its like the solutions were planned from the beginning and – working backwards – the parts to each solution were slowly and cleverly disguised into everyday life, each to be discovered with the simple joy a child feels in an Easter Egg hunt.
Joy, boundless joy. Pride in completion. My puzzle is complete. I am more than I thought I was.
Back to an earthly point of view, I don’t know what to expect of my future. This dream may or may not signal my impending death. It could literally be news that I will win the lottery, but I don’t think so the more I think about it. The feeling of comraderie I felt among my fellow travelers was more satisfying than winning any lottery. If it means I will soon die – or rejoining with my oversoul – it is a intensely happy occasion and written in the stars before I ever set foot here. It will happen because that was the plan. It was the agreement.
It could have been my oversoul looking into the events of my life with equal, shared pride, That’s okay, too. I won’t turn down this loving feeling. In my dream I somehow touched God, no matter what meaning I choose to attach to it. That seems certain. It was some sort of enlightenment, itself a kind of death (or rebirth, if you prefer. They are one in the same).
By its nature, enlightenment is a huge jump. It will take time to process this beutiful ball of pure information and knowing. Perhaps a lifetime.