I just finished reading Nick Redfern’s Final Events.  It tells the story of the Collins Elite, a supposed group of government insiders who are convinced that alleged space visitors are demonic forces unleashed by occult activities carried out by the like of Jack Parsons.  THe viewpoint of the CE is that of a particularly millennial fundamentalist Christianity.  The book is worth reading, if for nothing else than the satisfyingly creepy figures Redfern met on his journey.

The book rekindled my thoughts on the intersection of Christianity and the paranormal—especially issues of  saucers and contact.  Fundamentalist Chrstianity seems to have gone through some convulsions in the past couple decades.  The 19th century notion of dispensationalism has been expanded upon, leading to such notions as literal millennialism, a detailed eschatological timeline involving raptures of pre-trib, mid-trib, or post-trib varieties, and a political cognate known as “dominionism” that links the triumph of Christianity to the dominance of the United States.  Most tangible is the connection between fundamentalist thought and American foreign policy, particulary some pro-Israel movements in the US.

Although I’m a Christian, coming from a Lutheran background, much of the fundamentalist though swimming around baffles me.  Personally, I find the blending of faith and politics to be dangerous.  It’s fascinating, however, to examine the overlap between some aspects of fundamentalist though and the paranormal.  Writers such as L.A. Marzulli and Russ Dizdar have made names for themselves by connecting extraterrestrial contact with the old bugaboo of demonic possession or visitation.  This is, however, old news.

Digging through my books the other day, I came across this classic from Bob Larson:

Larson has had a long career as a televengelist who is—recently, at least—focused on deliverence from evil spirits.  Larson got his start in the Satanic cult scares of the 1980s, a field plagued by frauds and charlatans such as Mike Warnke.  It always struck me as odd that the crossover between the DevilFear and the AlienFear took so long to take place.

After all, the beginning of the saucer contact mythos had strong spiritual—if not religious overtones, through the stories of the Contactees.  Early concerns about the possibility of ET life having an adverse affect on our religious culture indicate that, as far back as the Brookings report, the overlap in the two topics existed.  As the scientific bent of 1960s saucer research took hold, these religious questions moved to the back burner.  Writers such as Keel and Vallee did much to move the notion of a wider ufology back to the fore but serious discussions of the intersection between religion and the paranormal were the exception rather than the rule.

Regardless of one’s views on religion (or on specific religions) the connections between the spirtual and the paranormal are there.  It’s just awkward and difficult to look at it for any length of time.  Like the intersection of the paranormal and academia any conclusions one draws tend to alienate at least 50% of the audience.  Maybe…just maybe, it’s time for that to change. 

In contrast, the Indigenous Hypothesis put forth here argues that some UFOs are in fact real vehicles. But we’re not under siege by anthropomorphic ETs or “goblins from hyperspace”: the beings behind the curtain are eminently tangible. They insinuate themselves into our ontological context not to confuse us but to camouflage themselves. The UFO spectacle takes on the flavor of myth because it wants to be discounted. At the same time, knowing that their activities are bound to be seen at least occasionally, the occupants deliberately infuse their appearance with what we might expect of genuine extraterrestrial travelers.

It’s a formidable disguise — but it can be pierced.

Mac Tonnies

Two years ago tomorrow, October 18, 2009, we who study and think about the weird and its implications lost one of our brightest lights, Mac Tonnies.  Mac though and wrote about far more than the paranormal and his blog Posthuman Blues was a showcase for ideas ranging from science and the paranormal to cutting edge design and technology.  Though probably most well-known today for his development of the cryptoterrestrial or indigenous hypothesis as a possible explanation for some UFO encounters (to which the quotation above is related), his work ranged far beyond that.  His first published work was science fiction, followed by extensive writing on the potential for interplanetary archaeology (of which his After the Martian Apocalypse was the culmination).  

I never met Mac in person, though we corresponded online semi-regularly via email and Twitter.  I admired him greatly for his ideas and the clarity with which he expressed them.  Even after a few years, I believe that the cryptoterrestrial idea is at least as possible as the extraterrestrial—not necessarily because of my experiences or physical evidence but because Mac was able to express the possibility of hidden peoples on our planet with such style.  

Not that Mac was ever sold completely on any idea—even his own.  This, as well, was something to admire.  He sought clues rather than answers and understood that knowledge could come from stories as well as science (and that science, after all, was just another kind of story).  Mac was a true skeptic who retained a sense of wonder about the universe, our world, and humanity.  

Even today, when looking at something interesting online, I find myself wanting to send Mac the link on Twitter to see what his view is.  Sometimes I still do, just in case he’s paying attention from beyond, in whatever posthuman state he’s achieved.  

Mac was unique—in the literal sense that there’s no one like him out there in what we laughingly call the paranormal “scene”.  I doubt there ever will be.

Listening to the most recent installment of Radio Misterioso, and following the sometimes heated dialog that followed, I was struck by how much of the real intellectual work in the realm of the paranormal is done by those who are not the huge names.  The Jacobs, Friedmans, et al are trading on work initiated decades ago, making appearances, earning money and—in my view—contributing nothing new.

I’ve learned more—and had my perceptions challenged more—by listening to Radio Misterioso than I ever have by listening to C2C or Dreamland.  Posthuman Blues and The Other Side of Truth pushed my thinking in more interesting directions than any dozen random paranormal-themed books on my shelves. 

Increasingly, those popularly published paranormal books (and there seem to be fewer of them every year as publishing and public tastes shift) are merely the primary sources for an investigation of the cultural phenomenon of “paranormal belief and marketing”.  Kimball, Redfern, Bishop, Binnall etc. are the ones doing the heavy lifting—the analysis and exploration of this phenomenon.  Others, like Walter Bosley push things in increasingly strange, exciting directions.  I may not (and often don’t) agree with everything these people say, but they say things so well that I’m compelled to give them a fair listening.

So, to my mind, there’s a cabal out there.  An invisible college of seekers looking for direction and clues rather than destinations and answers.  These are the people with whom I cast my lot.

Don’t tell me your answers.  Present me with your questions.  Make me think and seek and search into those weird, dark intersections between belief and science, thought and matter, real and unreal, rational and nonrational.

(photo “Synchronicity” by Flickr user leef_smith, used under Creative Commons license)

Fifteen years later, the Whitley County Crop Circle still resonates with me.  Part of the reason is that I had so much darn fun messing with earnest weirdos and suspicious, grizzled paranoiacs.  Another reason is the set of coincidences that just seem (taken as a whole) to be slightly less than probable.

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July 15, 1996

            My closest encounter with an actual paranormal experience occurred in July, 1996.  I was at home in Columbia City for summer break after my sophomore year at Hanover College.

            I was also very bored.

            You see, I’d been the head of UFOIA Strategic Investigation Team 1310 for quite a while by that time.  Had I seen one flying saucer?  No!  Had any Men in Black warned me to keep my mouth shut?  No!  See?  Boring!

            So, one Tuesday afternoon after getting home from work, I picked up the Post & Mail to see if any of my high school classmates had been arrested.  On the front page was a headline that would change my afternoon and, indeed, my whole evening:

CROP CIRCLE IN THORNCREEK TOWNSHIP

            I threw down the paper and grabbed the phone.  I dial Doug’s number.  Busy.  I suppressed a scream and hit redial.  Doug picked up before the first ring.

            “I just tried to call you.  Did you see the paper?”  Doug’s voice was breathless with excitement.

            “I just tried to call you.  You wanna go check it out?”

            “Yeah, give me half an hour.”

            I quickly slipped on a tweed sport coat, that being the sort of thing I pictured paranormal investigators wearing.  I grabbed my camera and tape recorder, told the folks where I was going and headed out the door.  Climbing into my venerable 1985 Toyota Camry, and heading toward town I mused on my situation.  It was clear that we had no idea what the circle might look like, how close we would be able to get or anything else. Within what seemed like mere minutes I was pulling the Camry into Doug’s driveway.

The garage door was open and I went in.  Doug was there—clad in black pants, black turtleneck and a pale trench coat: obviously what he thought paranormal investigators wore.  More shocking, he was holding a strange device.  Gray in color, it had a light mounted on it, and a long rod extending from the end, topped with a cork.

“Doug, what is that?”

“It’s a paranormal energy detector!”  He had a serious look on his face, making me wonder if his mind had finally gone. “I took an old single-slide projector, taped a Black and Decker Snakelight under it, and put a metal rod on the end.  Pretty cool, huh?”

“Indeed.  Nice trench coat too.  You ready to go?”

“Sure, just let me adjust the paranormal energy detector’s calibration first.”

I rolled my eyes, grateful that the higher-ups at UFOIA couldn’t see this debacle.  The device should have been calibrated already.

The circle was north of town, just off highway 109, in Thorncreek Township.  Being unfamiliar with the area, we drove slowly, not wanting to miss it.  Within fifteen minutes (about 10 miles outside of town), we saw a number of cars parked near an intersection.  I pulled our official alien-hunting vehicle safely off to the side of the road and we embarked on our greatest adventure yet.

There were maybe five other looking at the circle.  It was probably two hundred feet from the road, and the field was surrounded by yellow police “caution” tape.  Doug and I stared at it wordlessly, trying to comprehend something so beautiful and mysterious.  We were cast into almost a spiritual state.

“What should we do?” I asked.  There didn’t seem to be a lot to investigate from the road, and if we went into the field with that many witnesses around, we would certainly be detained by the authorities.  Most of the county officials disapproved of our efforts to bring THE TRUTH to light and we needed no more trouble.

“Let’s try out the paranormal energy detector.”  Doug moved off to the ditch next to the field and pointed the PED toward the ground.  He walked along slowly, looking through the viewfinder.  Suddenly, he began calling off numbers.

“4.7. 5.8.Are you getting these, Aaron?”

Thinking fast, I switched on the tape recorder and repeated the numbers into the mic.  “Got ‘em Doug.  Keep going!”  I suppressed a smile.  If we couldn’t get close to the circle, there was no reason we couldn’t confound the bystanders.  We continued our charade for a few minutes but, aside from curious looks from the people, received no other response.

The sun was starting to set, and soon we were the only ones there.  We walked up the road, trying to see if there was a way into the field which wouldn’t be easily detectable.  As we walked west along the road, we discussed the find.

“So what do you think it is, Doug?”

“Well, it could be a lot of things.  Plasma induction technology could have been used to create it, but I won’t know until we get to the center.  There’s trademark blistering of the stalks when that method is used.”

I bristled at Doug’s use of the passive voice.  “Could have been used by whom?  Are we dealing with aliens or an earthbound phenomenon?  I know as our projectile design specialist you’re looking at the technological aspects of this, but UFOIA HQ wants answers and they want them quickly.  SIT1310 is really on the bubble right now.  We could lose our certification if we don’t come up with some answers soon!”

We stepped into the ditch, preparing to enter the wheat field when we heard a faint buzzing sound.  Looking down the road, we saw a four-wheel ATV coming toward us.  Its rider was middle-aged, scraggly, wearing camouflage, and smoking a cigarette.  Doug and I shared a look which could only be described as “fearful.”

“You guys here for the crop circle?” he asked as he slowed to a stop.

I bounded up to him.  “Yes!  We’re investigators for the UFO Information Agency, Strategic Investigation Team 1310.I’d show you my identification, but I’ve left my wallet at home.”  He looked at me with cold, bloodshot eyes.  In an instant, Doug was standing there as well.

“They say it’s fake.” The stranger didn’t sound like he agreed.  “They say it’s fake because someone found a cigarette in the middle of it this morning.  You know what?”

“No, we don’t.” Doug replied, his eyes wide.

“That was my cigarette.  I was out here before anyone else saw it and I dropped my cigarette.  That means it’s not fake.”

“Wow,” I said, “That would certainly put a dent in any hoaxing argument.  What time were you out here?”

“About four.  Maybe earlier.  I don’t know.  I know a lot about this sort of thing.”  He looked at Doug and me, as if daring us to contradict him.  “Oh yeah, I’ve got a stack of magazines at home all about it.”  He stopped abruptly.  “But I shouldn’t be telling you guys that, should I?  You probably already know all about me.”

“Um…” Doug said.

“Er…” I said.

“That’s what I thought!” the man said with a nervous laugh.

I thought quickly.  “No, I mean, we aren’t from the government or anything.  Really, we’re not even real investigators; we’re just a couple of college kids home on break.”

“Yeah,” Doug spoke up.  “We’re not keeping track of you or anything.”

The man started to back away.  “Sure.  Sure.  I bet that’s what you tell everyone.”

“No, we’re really just a couple of guys. It’s nothing more than that!”  I could see that he didn’t believe us. Without saying another word, he turned his ATV around and sped off down the road.

At this point, Doug and I decided that crossing the yellow police tape and entering the wheat field wasn’t the best idea. For one thing, it was trespassing and doing a stint in the Whitley County lockup didn’t appeal to us. For another, it was a really long walk out to where the circle was. We started walking back to the car when we noticed a rickety van heading toward us in the twilight.

The van stopped and two figures got out. One was a generally clean-cut looking fellow. His companion resembled nothing if not a aging hippy, right down to the lavender-tinted John Lennon glasses.

“Hello!” she called, jogging toward us. “Have you been into the center yet?”

“Um, no, we haven’t” said Doug, walking toward them.

“What’s that?” the man asked, pointing to the PED.

“Well, it’s a paranormal energy detector.” Doug replied, looking nervously at me. The woman turned to me.

“I took a course on crop circles at IPFW. The energy is concentrated in the center of the circle.”

“Ah.  Well, that would make sense.” I said, not knowing what else to say.

She went on. “If you like, we could take your device into the circle with us to get the readings you need.”

If they went into that circle with the PED, the gig would be—as they say—up. We stammered for a few moments trying to come up with a reason why they shouldn’t do this tremendous favor for us. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so luckily Doug spoke up.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. The PED is just a prototype. We just got the plans from UFOIA headquarters this morning. I’m not even sure it really works.” Doug looked at me for help.

“Yeah, knowing the shoddy material and equipment they usually send us, it probably doesn’t work at all.” I smiled winningly. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

We then said goodbye to them and started back toward the car. Like most investigators of the unknown we were left with more questions than answers. Where did the circle come from? Was it made by human hands or by something or someone beyond our world? Perhaps whatever caused it is part of our planet, some kind of force that we hadn’t yet figured out how to harness. There was no way to tell, with our bumbling interviews and misadventures with imaginary paranormal energy detectors.

“Any ideas, Doug?”

“None. None whatsoever. I don’t know why things like this happen?”

“What do you mean? The circle, or me forgetting my wallet, or the hippies, or what?”

Doug’s face fell. “No, things like us seeing the story in the paper at the same time, the colliding phone calls, the fact that neither of us had anything to do tonight, all of it.”

“Well, to be fair, we almost never have anything to do. But I see what you mean. This all feels a little too contrived to be coincidence. Yet, if it’s not coincidence, then who’s behind it?”

“Exactly!”

“I have a feeling the answer will come in time. The real question is, are we ready for the answer?”

We drove back toward town, as silent as the field we’d just left.