Michael Prescott's Blog

Mark Alexander, who sometimes comments on this blog, has a new Kindle ebook out called "Imagination." I've bought it and started reading it. (The price is only $2.99.) Written in the brisk style of a seminar presentation, the book talks about limits that we impose on ourselves, restricting our creativity and blocking us from achieving our full potential. Take a look at "Imagination" at this link:

http://tinyurl.com/7ywb9rb

Book review: Paranormal

People had near-death experiences for centuries before Dr. Raymond Moody began to study the phenomenon. But although NDE anecdotes could be found throughout literature, and glimpses of the experience could be seen in works of art like Hieronymus Bosch's Ascent of the Blessed, nobody seems to have identified the NDE as a distinct phenomenon. In fact, nobody had even thought to name the experience.

All of that changed with the publication of Moody's first book, Life After Life, in 1975. Put out by a small publisher who optimistically thought it might sell 10,000 copies, the book became an international sensation. In it, Moody coined the term “near-death experience” and listed the main features of the NDE–features which have become almost too familiar through their subsequent dramatization in movies like Ghost and Flatliners, and in innumerable TV shows. Although Moody's book was more anecdotal than scientific, it paved the way for more rigorous studies conducted by Kenneth Ring, Michael Sabom, Bruce Greyson, and others. Today, although the true meaning and nature of the NDE remain in fierce dispute, nobody denies that the phenomenon is real; hundreds, if not thousands, of cases have been carefully documented, and if public opinion surveys can be trusted, millions more have taken place.

In his new book Paranormal: My Life in Pursuit of the Afterlife, co-written with Paul Perry, Moody gives us the background behind his investigations into NDE's and other, even more esoteric phenomena. The book is briskly paced, engagingly written, and remarkably open. 

Perhaps the most surprising revelation is that for most of his life Moody has suffered from a serious thyroid condition that can cause severe mood swings, and that, during one period of intense depression when his thyroid had essentially shut down, he attempted suicide and had a brief, preliminary NDE (or at least the prologue to an NDE) of his own.

The suicide attempt is the focus of the book's introduction, where the outcome is left hanging. Several chapters later, the authors return to the subject to tell the rest of the story. (Rather oddly, they choose to recapitulate several pages of the introduction word for word at this point, an unnecessary bit of padding.) Moody observes that he had kept his thyroid problem secret from the general public in part because he did not want it to cast doubt on the validity of his work on NDE's; but at this point, with the reality of the NDE phenomenon acknowledged by all researchers, he felt free to reveal this aspect of his life at last.

Moody recounts an equally dramatic episode from another period of low thyroid activity. At that point he was actively engaged in studying the ancient esoteric practice of mirror gazing, in which people look deeply into a reflective surface and sometimes perceive deceased loved ones in the glass. The effects he obtained in his homemade "psychomanteum," detailed in his book Reunions, were anecdotal but nevertheless impressive; some practitioners even insisted that their deceased loved one stepped right out of the mirror and interacted with them in the room. 

But when Moody — his energy at a low point with his thyroid largely out of commission — discussed this work with his skeptical father, the elder Moody decided his erratic son was having a mental breakdown and promptly had him committed! Trapped in a psychiatric hospital, he was misdiagnosed as bipolar, his every move and statement interpreted as further evidence of his disorder. Luckily, thyroid treatment was able to restore his normal functioning within a few days, while friends and associates who had experienced the psychomanteum for themselves arrived at the hospital to testify on Moody's behalf. As a result, he was finally released – but it seems to have been a close run thing. Just one of the perils of exploring psychic phenomena in a skeptical world …

Another intriguing section of the book deals with Moody's developing interest in past-life memories. Initially he was dismissive of such claims, assuming–as most people do–that such memories typically involve reliving the life of a famous historical figure like Joan of Arc or Napoleon Bonaparte. But when a hypnotist convinced him to try past-life regression for himself, he experienced a succession of quite ordinary lives that were sufficiently vivid and realistic to call his earlier doubts into question. I have to say I was unaware of his interest in this subject, although Moody actually wrote a book about it titled Coming Back.

One of the things that have sometimes frustrated me about Moody is that he can seem stubbornly skeptical or iconoclastic about his own investigations, an attitude epitomized by his rather strange book The Last Laugh, in which he seemingly calls much of his own research into question. For someone with a deep-seated interest in paranormal phenomena, he can also be surprisingly hostile toward parapsychologists, a trait I discussed in an earlier post. Now I wonder if these periods of intensified skepticism may be correlated with periods of diminished thyroid activity, with its concomitant self-doubt and self-destructive tendencies. Could the emotional swings Moody vividly describes in his memoir possibly relate to his occasional, baffling attempts to undermine his own credibility and the credibility of like-minded researchers? Moody himself doesn't say this, and maybe I'm wrong about it, but it might make sense of the somewhat contradictory messages he has put out over the years.

In any case, in Paranormal the good doctor seems to have moved beyond his earlier skepticism. In the conclusion of his book, he makes reference to “what happens to our souls after death," and then comments that this statement

is a big step forward for me. In the beginning, when I first named the near-death experience and started near-death studies, I made it a point to neither believe nor disbelieve in the existence of the soul or a place called heaven. I was raised in a family that didn't attend church or believe in God. But aside from that personal history, I felt it was unscientific to conclude that we have a soul or that there is an afterlife. To do so would mean to some people that I wasn't objective in my work, that all of my research was merely aimed at propping up a belief, not at testing one. My goal in this research was to remain a true skeptic in the ancient Greek sense–one who neither believes nor disbelieves but who keeps searching for truth.

After more than four decades of studying death and the possibility of an afterlife, I have come to realize that my opinion is buttressed by thousands of hours of research and deep logical thought of the type that few have devoted to this most important topic. I have concluded that if everyone else has an opinion on the subject of life after death, why shouldn't I? As a result of his conviction, I have become brazen about voicing my viewpoint.

He then reproduces an answer he gave during a TV interview:

What do I think happens when we die? I think we enter into another stage of existence or another state of consciousness that is so extraordinarily different from the reality we have here in the physical world that the language we have is not yet adequate to describe this other state of existence or consciousness. Based on what I have heard from thousands of people, we enter into a realm of joy, light, peace, and love in which we discover that the process of knowledge does not stop when we die. Instead, the process of learning and development goes on for eternity.

As Moody points out, he “answered the question from the heart.” It is this heartfelt quality of self-revelation and emotional honesty that is perhaps the most striking feature of this fascinating and worthwhile book.

Although I read a couple of books on cold fusion some years ago, I remember few of the details today, and can safely say I know next to nothing on the subject. That said, I found this blog post by Roger Stritmatter about the E-Cat reactor very interesting. It's a good summary of the cold fusion controversy, the vindication of Fleischmann and Pons by a number of independent researchers, and the amazing potential of low energy nuclear reactions. Since I can't judge the scientific tests of E-Cat that have been performed so far, I can only say that either this thing will be a game-changer or it will be one of the great hoaxes of all time. Either way, it's worth knowing about.

http://shake-speares-bible.com/2012/02/14/i-am-an-e-cat-junky/

An amusingly different take on ghosts. Despite the blogger's wry tone, I think he genuinely does believe his house is haunted. He's just singularly unimpressed by those who do the haunting.

http://ace.mu.nu/archives/326821.php

Old news, but I'd never heard of this April Fool's hoax before. In its own way, it's brilliant. I don't know if Arthur Conan Doyle would be amused or annoyed, but perhaps he would take some comfort in the fact that even today, people can be fooled by fake fairies!

http://www.snopes.com/photos/supernatural/deadfairy.asp

Extraction

In spy thrillers and military adventure stories, there often comes a point where plans have to be made for an extraction. The hero has gotten in over his head and needs to be pulled out of a dangerous situation. His cover is about to be blown, or the odds against him are just too great, and the higher-ups decide his mission must be scrubbed. Sometimes he calls for the extraction himself; other times the people at headquarters make the call. Or maybe he has successfully completed his mission, and simply needs to be transported home.

It occurs to me that extraction is a useful metaphor for dying. We could look at being born as the beginning of an undercover mission, a foray into hostile territory, a dangerous assignment with an unpredictable outcome. At a certain point in any assignment, extraction becomes necessary. As with the spy or the military operative, our mission may have been completed successfully, or we may have run into insurmountable difficulties that make it impossible to continue. Maybe we make the call–there are people who seem to choose when and how they pass on, even without committing suicide in any obvious way–or maybe the call is made for us by those who have a wider perspective on the situation.

One way or the other, we are extracted–pulled out of enemy territory and escorted home.

The metaphor may take some of the sting out of the loss of a loved one. It's not that the person has “died,” in the sense of being obliterated; instead, he or she has been retrieved by the higher-ups, brought home to rest, recuperate, and assess the success (whether partial or complete) of the mission.

And there will be other missions, other assignments … and other extractions. And the game goes on. 

 

Book review: Consulting Spirit

I don't have a whole lot to add to my brief review, posted earlier, of Ian Rubenstein's book Consulting Spirit. As I said earlier, I enjoyed the book for its sensible, matter-of-fact approach to paranormal phenomena and Spiritualism, and for the author's wry sense of humor about himself and the strange people and events he encountered.

Rubenstein is a British medical doctor who developed an interest in clairvoyance and after-death communication, and gradually cultivated his own previously unsuspected talents as a medium. In the process he discovered the surprisingly active world of British Spiritualism, populated with colorful characters, and found himself opening up to new interpretations of life and death. Throughout it all, he remained at least somewhat skeptical, and even at the end of the book, he refrains from drawing any monumental conclusions. I have to say that if I'd had some of the experiences he recounts, I would probably be a little less skeptical and a little more convinced!

To me, books like this are in some ways more valuable than scientific studies involving control groups, double-blind test conditions, and statistical analysis. I'm not sure that any amount of laboratory data will persuade people of the reality of mediumship, but a sober, common-sense account like Dr. Rubenstein's may succeed where tables, charts, and graphs are likely to fail. Reading his story, I couldn't help feeling that if I were in his shoes, I would have had many of the same questions and considered many of the same non-paranormal explanations. Nothing in his book struck me as exaggerated or embellished; if anything, the author's tendency seems to be to play down the more dramatic elements of his story.

His sense of humor keeps him–and the reader–firmly grounded, no matter how apparently outlandish some of the developments in his narrative may seem. Here he is, talking on the phone to an eccentric medium he has never met. Rubenstein asks:

“Do you honestly think my patient can see spirits?” 

“Oh, yes. Why not? I see spirit all the time. There’s a whole unseen universe out there. Once you tune in, you realize just what you’ve been missing. I’ve even got an alien living in my apartment. He’s quite shy, but I know he’s there.”

Was this how it ended, in an apartment somewhere looking for aliens? I made a neutral “uh-huh” remark, just to let him know I was listening and that, well, you know, who doesn’t have an alien living in their apartment nowadays! 

Rubenstein notes how easy it is for the mind to fail to process anomalies such as paranormal phenomena. This is something I've noticed myself. I may experience a remarkable synchronicity or premonition, but unless I very firmly make a mental note of it or–better yet–write it down, I will probably forget it within an hour or so. Later, all I will remember is that something really interesting happened, but for the life of me I cannot recall what it was. As Rubenstein comments,

Work, raising a family, and generally muddling through life tends to keep our thoughts focused on normal, everyday things. When something strange occurs, it’s very hard to know what to do with it. The effort of trying to understand how unusual experiences fit into our lives is just too great. So we simply don’t bother. If we ever recall what happened, maybe when something jogs our memory, then perhaps we mention it as an interesting story. Otherwise we ignore it and get stuck back into our everyday, normal lives. 

The author makes another point that dovetails with my own observations: I have more of these synchronicities and premonitions (and more powerful and meaningful ones) when I'm in a negative state of mind–depressed, upset, confused. It's as if the lowering of my emotional energy opens me up to more outside influences. Or maybe it's just that in times of difficulty, I'm in greater need of such influences. Rubenstein writes,

I rather enjoyed these [synchronistic] coincidences. I began to see a pattern to them. When I was calm and happy, nothing unusual seemed to happen. I wasn’t certain, but they seemed to occur when I was stressed, confused, or looking for direction.  

Although the main focus of the book is on Rubenstein's personal journey to become a medium, there are interesting tidbits of metaphysical speculation scattered along the way. At one point he gets into a conversation with a Spiritualist about the nature of spiritual energy.

“Ian. Think of the caduceus.”

“You mean the medical symbol? The two snakes intertwined around a staff?”

“That’s right.” Dave took a pen out of his jacket pocket.... With his pen he drew a rough picture of the caduceus: a single upright staff with a pair of wings projecting from its top end and two snakes sinuously winding up the staff from bottom to top. The snakes crossed over each other several times and their heads met at the top of the staff, just below the wings....

“The caduceus was supposedly the staff of the Ancient Greek god Hermes,” he said. “The single unifying theme in all modern psychic work is energy. It’s even crept into Spiritualist jargon replacing the term ‘vibrations’ or ‘spirit power.’ The idea goes like this: a flow of universal subtle energy regulates the whole of existence. There is only one type of energy but it has two directions of flow: from spirit to physical, and then back from physical to spirit. You can think of Man, who has both a physical and a spiritual body, as acting as a link, or conduit, between the two. In fact, you can think of all life as acting in this way. The physical form of the energy is at a lower frequency than the spirit form. As it flows from spirit to physical, its frequency is lowered. As it flows from physical to spirit, its frequency is raised.”

I thought about this.

“So, living beings would be what? Transformers? Transducers?”

“Yes,” agreed Dave. “In transforming this energy, living beings do work, and the work they do is what we term life.”

“Okay. That makes sense to me.”

“Good, because it’s very important. Let’s consider the symbol of the caduceus further. You have two currents of energy, symbolized by the snakes, forming a circuit. Notice how the snakes cross over each other several times.” Dave tapped on his drawing with his pen to indicate the crossing points. “You can think of the points where they cross as centers of psychic energy.”

“You mean chakras?”

“Yes. Chakra is a Sanskrit term which means wheel. Each chakra represents a crossing point of energy. Where they cross, the two opposing currents set up a rotating vortex of energy. So the word ‘chakra’ is quite descriptive. Traditionally, there are seven major chakras and these need to open up in order to do any form of psychic work. In order to do this you require a free flow of energy, which means you need a strong link to spirit and also to be well-grounded...”

“...in order to complete the circuit.”

“Yes, in order to complete the circuit.” 

Rubenstein also recounts a conversation with parapsychologist Maurice Grosse, who investigated the famous Enfield poltergeist.

“So, what do you think is going on in these poltergeist cases?” I asked him.

Maurice sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled in thought. He paused for a moment, carefully considering his position.

“Some people feel it’s all down to spirit influence in these cases; in effect the focus, the person at the center of the disturbance, is a haunted individual. If you like, ghosts haunt places, while poltergeists haunt individuals. Others say it’s just down to telekinesis, mind over matter, on the part of the focus, the person around whom these events tend to occur. These people would say that it’s all just a manifestation of unexplained mental abilities and would deny the involvement or even the existence of spirits. Of course, other people just blame it all on trickery....

“My theory, for what it’s worth, is that the focus certainly provides energy. In some cases the focus can even use this energy to affect the environment. At the same time, any passing entity can also pick up this energy and play with it, too. Think of a kid kicking around a football in the park. Then a couple of other kids come around and start playing with it as well. It’s like a sort of ‘energy football.’ Think of the emotional energy children generate when they reach puberty. That’s why they’re so often the focus of such cases.”

This made sense to me and seemed to tie in with what I was learning in my psychic development circle. In order to manifest in the physical world, discarnate entities such as spirits required some form of physical energy supplied by a living person.

“So, in this case the girls provided the energy and a spirit came along and used it to move objects and communicate,” I summed up. “That’s a very interesting theory.” 

Elsewhere, he presents the somewhat familiar image of a diamond as a symbol of the group soul. Although this image is not original with the author (as he freely acknowledges), I found his explanation very clear and straightforward.

I’d been thinking about this one day when I had a realization, which came to me seemingly out of the blue. I experienced the mental image of a huge, multi-faceted diamond. Light was shining through the diamond. I could see that the diamond represented a human soul. Each facet of the diamond represented one lifetime. I realized that time as we experience it on Earth is merely an illusion due to our current perspective. The diamond exists, has existed, and will always exist in a sort of timeless state.

I could see that the purpose of life was to polish each facet. We say life grinds us down. A diamond in a jewelry workshop could make the same complaint. In fact, the grinding polishes our facets, to add beauty and harmony to the whole gem.

Perhaps “I” as I experienced myself in each life, am merely one aspect of the whole diamond, and a very limited aspect at that. As a mere facet I am flat compared with the three-dimensional nature of the whole diamond. The whole diamond would be my “higher self.” Then suppose each diamond was stacked together with others. Perhaps each whole diamond in its own way represented a single facet of an even greater diamond, a huge structure, which kept on stacking up until what? God? 

I don't know if there's anything really new in Consulting Spirit, and I wish the author had been a little more willing to overcome his skepticism and carry his thinking a little further, but overall I enjoyed the book quite a lot. In some ways, it's almost a throwback to accounts that were common in the early part of the 20th century when Spiritualism was more widely accepted. Rubenstein presents an array of supernatural phenomena in a calm, sober voice, laced with humor and occasional self-doubt. I found his story very appealing, and I think you will too.