Posts Tagged ‘quantum consciousness’

Singing the Body Electric – Human Force Fields and The Streetlight Effect

Thursday, April 30th, 2009

I’ve thought about the streetlight effect quite a lot, because the phenomenon of knocking out streetlights happens around me quite a bit.  These events are also episodic to a degree, typically clustered around times when I perceive my quantum vibration to be intensely high.

Based on how I feel energetically, I can generally predict whether or not streetlights will go out when I’m near them on a given night.  If I’m driving home from an intriguing lecture or have just been involved in a fractalising conversation, or if I’m just thinking, thinking, thinking and making new connections – that’s when I’m more likely to affect streetlights.  So it would appear that the streetlight effect is related to increased cognitive synaptic activity.

Simply feeling more energised may well be a sign that we’re primed for increased subtle electric interactions.  The mechanism by which this happens is a mystery, but I intuit that our unique vibrational frequency and sensitivity factor in.  When I’m surrounded by negatively-charged ions, for instance, I get a mental surge which is likely electrical in nature – and which may also explain my fascination with stormchasing:  I’m hungry for the storm’s negative ions.

Another possibility is that spontaneous increases in neurotransmitters like serotonin and DMT may play key roles in working with quantum energetic fluctuations.  Terence and Dennis McKenna, in The Invisible Landscape, note that when we’re saturated with certain tryptamines (presumably whether via enhanced endogenous production or an outside source), the resulting electron spin resonance (ESR) of the metabolising tryptamines within our bodies may be “amplified to audible levels,” at which point the sound “…can actually become visible – as if the vibrational wave patterns were shifting into the visible spectrum (italics mine).”  Perhaps this speaks to halos depicted around angels and other figures as far back as prehistoric cave paintings.

A phenomenon that may be related to all of this is BOLs – balls of light – and here’s a story to preface why.

One day in the mid-1990s, a time when I was highly energised in general, I was totally enchanted by love for my cat; she was purring so loudly and seemed to be in trance, like me.  I was filled with so much love for her at that moment, words can’t describe.  Suddenly a bumblebee type of BOL (so described due to its size, its general energetic feel, and even the sound I perceived) came flying at me from across the room – !  I saw it from the corner of my eye and then looked right at it, instinctively ducking as it flew past me, moving my head slightly right.

I actually felt the buzzing energy graze my left eyebrow.  Simultaneously I jumped up from the sofa, tossing little Minou’ halfway across the room.  Thinking the BOL must have hit the wall behind me and be bumbling around on the floor behind the sofa, I instantly looked for it, but it was gone – or at least it had become invisible.

I’ve always thought the BOL just described was attracted to the force field generated by the strong loving feelings between my cat and me at that moment. Maybe these BOLs are outward manifestations of our own electricity once we’ve attained a certain highly-energised state by one of the methods I’ve described above.

Maybe they’re completely independent beings or disembodied intelligence that manifest on their own when conditions are right.  If either case if true, even part of the time, BOLs (visible light or plasma in a “bundled” form of EM) and BOEs (balls of energy in the non-visible part of the EM spectrum) may be drawn into and/or released by our own electromagnetic field.

By extension, whether BOL or BOE, “packets” of excited energy may interact with a streetlight’s sensor or other functional mechanisms, disrupting the lamp’s anticipated operating conditions.

That may sound complicated, but it really boils down this:  I theorise that our energy, when vibrating at a high enough state, can produce gravitational effects and “surplus” electromagnetic radiation, whether in the visible spectrum or not, and that this conceivably leads to such phenomena such as BOLs, the streetlight effect, and even synchronicity, as I’ve detailed previously.


Title Reference:  “I Sing the Body Electric;” Walt Whitman.

As often happens, a recent blog posting at Mike Clelland’s site, Hidden Experience, inspired me to write this one.  You can read his article here.

Imagining the Metaverse – Sacred Science & Psychedelic Research

Sunday, January 11th, 2009

Questions to Ponder

Does DMT or something like it somehow illuminate, from the inside, perhaps through some “trick” of nature, the quanta of which we are formed?   Does it enhance or even create the perception that we are animated, individual, sentient beings in our own right?

Can we dip into other dimensions of quantum consciousness that exist within independent universes so obscure we generally don’t realise they also exist in “ours?”

Are “we” interwoven with an other, unique DMT universe, populated by beings and animations that exist independent of us, yet who exist inside us as well?

Recommended Reading:

  • Science and the Akashic Field: An Integral Theory of Everything by Ervin Laszlo.  (The term “metaverse” I use as Laszlo does in his book, referencing all universes – prior, present, and future.)
  • DMT: The Spirit Molecule by Rick Strassman.

Sacred Science, Extraordinary Awareness, and the Implications of Psychedelic Research

If you’re keenly interested in interdimensional contact and haven’t read Dr Rick Strassman’s book, DMT: The Spirit Molecule, I highly recommend you do.  Here you’ll get firsthand reports of sudden transits into extreme and superreal otherworld destinations that are readily available to us by way of DMT, a chemical that our bodies and other organic, living matter produce naturally and which can also be synthesised in the lab, in which case it is deemed a controlled substance in the US and in some other countries.

The extent of DMT’s purpose isn’t known.  What we know is that when certain thresholds are surpassed by extraordinary amounts of circulating DMT, we may experience mystical states such as near-death and out-of-body experiences, alien encounters, epiphanies, and lucid dreams, among other “extramundane” states.

Within seconds of receiving high intravenous doses of DMT in a controlled setting, Strassman’s research volunteers landed in a wholly-different but real otherworld, many experiencing fully-conscious contact with various independent, sentient beings.

While the body remains in “this reality,” DMT-saturated awareness lands somewhere else entirely, often described as being like a spaceship, a circus, or some other artificial, energetic space.  Volunteers report a supernormal rapid relay of what seems like radical data – which, as with dreams, often fades to some degree once the DMT level attenuates.

Notably, in Strassman’s experiment, visuals of the DMT otherworld were oddly overlaid (i.e., as entirely different realities) upon the room if the subject’s eyes were open – rather like “two branes colliding,” in a cosmological sense, so volunteers wore an eyemask to prevent distortion of the dominant DMT field.   (I’d be curious to know if something happens in the brain that also shows up on functional MRI [fMRI].  To my knowledge, no one has checked that out yet.)   What is both anecdotally and scientifically documented is that certain concentrations of DMT, whether of endogenous or exogenous origin, seem to allow physical and mental awareness to separate and occupy totally different realities simultaneously.

That endogenous DMT may play a role in creating and/or facilitating, at will, temporary yet very real interdimensional encounters with other intelligent beings may be one way we humans may enter an otherworld, to explore some of the deepest mysteries of our time.  The question is, how can we increase endogenous DMT production, without being reborn or nearing death….?  Another question, perhaps, is should all humans, having given informed consent, whether for personal or cosmological insight, be allowed to experience levels of DMT that may well illuminate dimensions beyond the mundane?

copyright STACE TUSSEL

The Cosmos “Neither Declares Nor Conceals”

Wednesday, December 24th, 2008

~ dedicated to the memory of Dev Hathaway

I can be a bit particular in my usage of certain terms. Recently my research has drawn me back to the subject of synchronicity, the mention of which often causes undue confusion. There are reasons why I use the words coincidence, serendipity, and synchronicity in very specific ways.

A bit of logic should silence all arguments: Yes, all synchronicities are coincidences, but not all coincidences are synchronicities.  Strictly speaking, any two things that happen concurrently form a coincidence, whether it carries any special meaning or not.   Serendipity is a step up – more like a lucky coincidence, but not out of the realm of everyday possibility.

By contrast, synchronicity is that rare coincidence that punctuates – with an exclamation point – a deeply meaningful coincidence, one that is so astonishingly rare as to be nearly unbelievable.  And, to satisfy its critics, the synchronicity’s extraordinary significance must be clearly and immediately undeniable.

Synchronicity has been acknowledged to happen more frequently during events or times in our lives that are accompanied by profound insight, change, or discovery – events such as falling in love or ending a relationship, experiencing cascading epiphanies, or, perhaps, inviting contact from “other intelligence.”

To explain, I’ll have to go back in time about fifteen years. One of my most esteemed English professors, the late Dev Hathaway, told me that my writing reminded him of Annie Dillard’s. Coincidentally, Dev was an acquaintance of Dillard’s sister. I remember the smile in his eyes as he mentioned I even looked a bit like her. He advised me to read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.

That same afternoon I was browsing quantum mechanics or some such topic at the university library. Most of the books were relatively new – many in paperback, and all of them looking fairly standard for the subect matter. As I scanned the shelves, my eyes were drawn to one book that seemed somehow out of place: a dark, fabric-covered hardback with a faint, copper-hued title. I leaned in and, still unable to read the worn lettering in the dim light, pulled the book out: Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.

In a library housing hundreds of thousands of volumes, how is it that my eyes landed on the same book Dev mentioned just moments earlier – and why?

Later that week I chanced upon a paperback copy of said book, marked down to some unreasonably low price at a bookstore’s closeout sale, and I was able to add the book to my collection. Now, that I was at the bookstore at the same time as the book was a coincidence – and it was serendipitous that I happened to spot it while quickly rummaging through boatloads of others, especially since I had just learned about it.

Looking back on those days, when I was finishing college in my late 20s, everything in my life was at an intense high. I was experiencing some profound interactions with what might be called the subtle realm. Once I was sunbathing in the back yard – a lush, overgrown, and private area – observing nature. As I watched a dragonfly dart around the bushes and trees and Queen Anne’s Lace, I thought to it, “Come and sit nearby.” To my delight, the dragonfly immediately came over and landed very close, facing me with a steady gaze for several seconds while I perceived, with joyful gratitude, its gossamer wings and velvety eyes.

Back to the library, though, and to synchronicity.  At the top of my list of “all-time wildest synchronicities” has to be the following. I was in an “Intro to the Internet” class in the mid-1990s when a book was passed around containing the e-mail addresses of a hundred or so relatively well-known people. My assignment was to e-mail one of them and then report back on the result. I flipped through the book and found a name that was quite familiar, although I didn’t know much about him: Noam Chomsky.

Later that day I was, again, in the university library. This time I was deliberately looking in the bound periodicals section for a particular back issue of Esquire magazine, to read an interview with Dr. John Mack about the alien encounter phenomenon.

As I walked past the bookshelves, alphabetically approching Esquire, coincidentally I saw a section of bound volumes of a periodical called “Encounter.” I’d never heard of this publication, but I couldn’t resist stopping to take a quick look at one of the books. I chose one at random, with dates like Sept. 1971 – May 1973. I quickly flipped it open to a densely-packed page and immediately saw two words: “Noam Chomsky.”

So as I stood in a library of a million or so books with many more hundreds of millions of words mixed up in mostly-random order, I had chosen the right book, the only page in that book, and the exact place on that page to find the words that I had chosen earlier that day. Something was pulling me toward that book – or vice versa. Now that I would call a synchronicity.

Could a “conscious” factor in the book have sensed me walking by, and called me in?

Noam Chomsky – a linguist – ended up having a connection to an overwhelming interest of mine, crop circles, and specifically, to the meaning that they might convey. Nice conversation starter, eh? “Mr Chomsky, what do you think about the language of the crop circles in the fields of rural England?”

But to reframe: simple coincidences are not necessarily less valuable than astonishing synchronicities. Remember, Dev’s coincidental acquaintance with Annie Dillard was closely connected to the synchronicity of finding Pilgrim at Tinker Creek later that day. In fact, there was a similar chain of events in the Noam Chomsky synchronicity, only in a much tighter time frame: first, the coincidence of walking past a periodical named “Encounter,” which clearly grabbed my attention, and second, the synchronicity of my eyes landing on the words “Noam Chomsky” when I opened a volume at random.

I believe that the magnitude of a particular synchronicity’s meaning is inversely correlated to the odds of the coincidence. Doubtless, these events – especially the ones of least probability by chance – support the reality of a pervasive, yet obscure consciousness which I feel is omnipresent in the Cosmos – by whatever name it be called, whether quanta or God or something else entirely.

To paraphrase Heraclitus, who noted so long ago with riddling insight, the Cosmos “…neither declares nor conceals, but gives a sign.”