Bias Preservation, the Holy Grail of Political Control

You’re a trillionaire with the power to force your people in the FED to “print” the world’s reserve currency, the US dollar, whenever you please.

You own the people who own the mainstream media because you’ve gathered dirt on each of them and have either educated them to agree with your political worldview objectives, or you’ve threatened them with a humiliating scandal and financial ruin if they step out of line.

There’s only one thing that’s a little out of your control, sometimes dangerously out of your control, and it drives you mad…

It’s the remnants of democracy that exist in parts of the “free” world. It can be challenging at times to control the darn voters.

But thank heavens the problem has been solved for you.

Over the years, you’ve discovered that if you can keep a two party system alive and keep the active voters on each side roughly equal in number, your can control the outcome of major elections.

Your best tools for the job used to be your CIA assets working in the mainstream media, but nowadays there’s something equally helpful, and in a way, far better…

It’s artificial intelligence. The gift that keeps on giving.

The genius here is that AI’s have been designed not only to keep customers happily spending money, but more importantly, to preserve the customers’ political biases.

With the voting public voluntarily held hostage to one or the other of two political information bubbles, never hearing the other side, constantly reinforced to think that the other side fabricates fake news, which they do, you have a permanently and equally divided electorate.

With voters evenly divided, it’s easy to tip the balance in either direction using your control of both the real and the fake news on both sides. It’s easy now to get the most controllable candidate voted into office.

It’s impossible to say how much of this second person story is fiction. I suspect there’s truth to it, but even if there’s not much, one thing is certain. The people who actually get out and vote are fairly evenly divided, and the evenness of that divide is kept in place by the “news” we encounter, which is determined by artificial intelligences designed to feed us only what we want to hear.

I’m not sure what the solution is, listening to “news” that you “know” is fake? Maybe there is no solution and totalitarianism is already running the world from the shadows, or maybe they’re still struggling for full control.  I don’t know, but I’m sure of one thing in all this: it’s foolishly self-destructive to allow yourself to hate people because they’re on the “wrong” side of the political debate.

Schrödinger, the great physicist, might have agreed, saying that the people with the unforgivable politics are actually you in another body and mind…

“I submit that both paradoxes will be solved (I do not pretend to solve them here and now) by assimilating into our Western build of science the Eastern doctrine of identity. Mind is by its very nature a singulare tantum. I should say: the over-all number of minds is just one. I venture to call it indestructible since it has a peculiar timetable, namely mind is always now. There is really no before and after for mind. There is only a now that includes memories and expectations. But I grant that our language is not adequate to express this, and I also grant, should anyone wish to state it, that I am now talking religion, not science.” —Schrödinger, What is Life?: With Mind and Matter and Autobiographical Sketches, p. 134–135

Practice loving kindness meditation instead of detesting political opponents, that’s my plan. This is likely our species best practical hope of long-term survival.

Love to both sides as one,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Killing the prefrontal cortex, one click at a time

Here’s a video telling how the internet can ruin our capacity for productivity. I knew it was happening to me, I just didn’t know why or how.

 

And here’s another video by the same guy telling us how addiction destroys the dendritic connections in the prefrontal cortex where agency (free will) and executive functioning (including decision making and self-control) happen (connecting us via the zero-point field to ourselves in the transcendent realm beyond space and time, I suspect).

I gotta stop watching so many YouTube videos!

I have too many “vital” interests and too many tangentially related projects going. Spinning the wheels.

Love and free moral agency,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Gamma Brainwave Love is in the Scientific Literature Now

Here’s a peer-reviewed scientific article showing that experts in loving kindness meditation have unusual gamma brainwave activity: https://www.pnas.org/content/101/46/16369

Here’s a gripping video of a Harvard grad, Daniel Goleman, PhD, discussing this study briefly and clearly…

Here’s a too-brief video leading us in loving kindness meditation. Try it if you like. There are many similar videos on YouTube. I really appreciate this one because of the woman’s non-assuming voice and her approach of filling up with gamma waves (apparently the brainwave correlate of love) before sending it out (probably through the non-local field of zero-point energy) to others…

If you’re tired of election-season propaganda (on both sides) filling your heart with resentment for the “evil, misguided morons” on the other side of the political aisle with all their transparent lies (no matter which side you’re on, trust me!), then I think it’s time to make an effort to escape the emotional manipulation of the DC lawyers and other nice career folk who, as best I can tell, run the big picture items via some sort of unelected shadow government.

The world would be a better place with fewer wars, less pollution, less covert manipulation, less poverty, less starvation, less crime, more honesty, more happiness and more positive energy if you and I spent daily time in loving kindness meditation, becoming world-class athletes in gamma brainwave production.

I believe that almost everything desperately needs more balance in our culture. Plus the cells of my body (except the RBCs) contain the politically incorrect and inherently inferior Y chromosome (I’m joking), so I get it that somehow we need a balance between loving kindness and the other thing, perhaps the ability to stand against what we believe is destructive (evil). And I understand how meditation in general, and loving kindness meditation in particular, can seem too touchy-feely to people of my generation (Boomers), especially the men, I think.

So if you’re just not into meditation, I suggest this.

  1. Put on a video of unusual animal friendships. Try this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NPOD92a78I.
  2. Mute the sound.
  3. Slow your breathing.
  4. Put on some contemplative music.
  5. And whatever you do, don’t meditate.

You might also watch videos of animals saving people and people saving animals, but some of these are contrived.

This animal non-meditation method hasn’t been tested scientifically, but it might help you become a gamma brainwave athlete without the meditation. At least it invites you to open your heart to the scientifically studied gamma-producing meditations of loving kindness that will someday change the world.

Nonlocal love at gamma frequencies,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Aliens versus The Five Chinese Drama Cliches

I was about to show you this video, thinking you might enjoy a light-hearted, in-depth interview with James Fox. It puts a human face on a guy who’s been working for seven years behind the camera creating the paradigm-shifting documentary, The Phenomenon.

Then I decided, it’s been a long day. The negative feedback on my last homework assignment for Corey Mandell’s script writing class took the wind out of me.

So if we’re looking for something light-hearted, this video fits the bill. It made me laugh. I had to pause it every two seconds to read the subtitles, but you’re a better speed reader than I am so you won’t have to…

No doubt some will say the Chinese Drama Satire Video is more believable.

The big question now is not, “do you believe in Aliens,” but do you believe in love at first sight?

There are no incorrect answers on this quiz.

Peace and Love (at first sight),

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Aliens seem to be as real as UFOs – Film Documentary, The Phenomenon

There’s an important UFO documentary out today, The Phenomenon. I spent the $19.99 at VIMEO based on a tweet from Lue Elizondo that I saw  on this video from Project Unity (at about 6:20). I couldn’t find the full quote on twitter (@LueElizondo). I guess it was too long, so they censored most of it, helping drones like me avoid thinking beyond micro-blurbs. Twitter has, incidentally, made censorship of complexity the rule of the road. I avoid them.

Anyway, here’s what Lue had to say, some of which seems quite significant…

“Folks, I am normally silent and careful not to endorse products (even if I support them); however, I am making an exception in this case. Although not part of the production, the movie by Jamie Fox “Phenomenon” is the one worth watching. It says things I cant! Its accurate, it’s verified and it’s REAL! I know this because while at the Pentagon we had the files. Yes many of you will already know SOME of the information, but not all of it. Literally thousands of files have yet to be released that only bolster this production. Once they are, you will realize how on the mark this movie is. Knowing now what it takes to make a quality production, I am amazed at the access that was gained by the Producers and the Director. Something tells me this is only the beginning. Bravo Mr. Fox and Dan! For the record, I had absolutely nothing to do with this production. There is NOTHING in it for me. That is why I feel I can honestly endorse this effort. I am a neutral party. In fact as AATIP director I am almost unnoticed. This story pertains to ‘all of us’ IMHO!” — Lue Elizondo

Here’s the trailer…

Here’s a brief interview of Director James Fox telling us why the most exciting part of creating this film was talking to former Senator Harry Reid about UFOs.

To me, aside form the transcendentally heart-warming footage of the beautiful and innocent children of Zimbabwe, the big deal here is that Lue Elizondo, the government’s retired insider who seems to be under life-long oath to pretend he doesn’t know anything about aliens, has come out now and said that this particular documentary is accurate and verified. Which wouldn’t mean much except that this film clearly states and shows good evidence that some UFOs are piloted by smallish beings of another culture, most likely a culture from another planet. That’s one small step toward government disclosure.

Love and sweet dreams,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Uncensored Science: Life and the Universe are Electromagnetic and Nonrandom

The Safire Plasma Reactor will become a source of clean energy if the petroleum industry doesn’t shut them down soon. It may be too late. Word is getting out…

“All knowledge of reality starts from experience and ends in it…. 

“Propositions arrived at by purely logical means are completely empty as regards reality…

“Because Galileo saw this, and particularly because he drummed it into the scientific world, he is the father of modern physics — indeed, of modern science altogether.

“To him [her] who is a discoverer in this field [theoretical physics], the products of his imagination appear so necessary and natural that he regards them, and would like to have them regarded by others, not as creations of thought but as given realities.”

— Albert Einstein, “On the Methods of Theoretical Physics”  The Herbert Spencer lecture, Oxford, June 10, 1933.

“We’re not trying to trap high-energy photons and electrons comparable to the Sun’s photosphere — but it [the Safire plasma engine apparatus] does … We’re just trying to replicate what we think nature may be doing.

“Uniformitarianism is the idea that gradual changes over billions of years is [sic] the cause of all the effects that we see. It became philosophical theory, but not scientific fact.

“Charles Darwin, Charles Lyell, James Hutton, Thomas Huxley, Karl Marx and other historical characters held to the view of ‘Uniformitarianism.’ And it is Uniformitarianism that lays at the heart of much of modern science… that gradual changes over long periods of time is [sic] the primary factor of evolutionary development.

“It is Uniformitarianism that lays at the heart of the Big Bang theory which claims gravity is the primal driver of the universe. So the problem that you have is that none of these things are testable. The process of evolution is lacking sufficient factors to test.

“On the other hand, there are those who hold to the view that intelligence is the genesis of creation.

“Neither has anything to do with empirical science, and as a matter of fact, to claim either is science corrupts science.” — Montgomery Childs

I couldn’t agree more!

“I think that modern cosmology took an unfortunate turn several hundred years ago by denying or ignoring the question of function or purpose in the larger Cosmos. Biologists recognize the principle that form follows function so why do astrophysicists not recognize this principle? Why are astrophysicists not asking this question? The idea that life or intelligence would be attached to a planet or a star was too much for our consciousness so we denied its possibility. There was never any evidence to substantiate that denial…. Denying that a star could be alive is a misuse of the scientific method.” — Michael Clarage…

And so as a scientist, I think mainstream macro-evolutionary theory and intelligent design theory should show one another some respect. One side should not censor the other from kindergarten to the university system…

 

Love and empirical respect,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

PS: Sorry for posting too many videos, but each one is worth watching. The third (the one by Michael Clarage) seems especially profound to me.


The End of UFO Disclosure?

My absolute favorite ufologist, Richard Dolan, seems to feel pessimistic about the possibility of the public ever being officially informed by the US shadow government of the presence of an other-worldly intelligence here on Earth.

Richard hasn’t put out his usual amount of UFO video material in the last few months, which worries me a little. I worry that his beautiful wife, Tracey, might for some unknown reason leave him.

You have to understand, I’ve been writing fiction for too long and have developed a running suspicion that when any character’s plot seems to be making them wonderfully happy, and Richard Dolan’s life has been looking absolutely wonderful since he married Tracy, there’s always a writer lurking behind the scenes, setting things up for a letdown.

So I literally pray for Richard Dolan and Tracey, hoping that my heartfelt, if neurotic concern will influence God and the Universe to keep their love alive forever. And I think that will happen.

But as for genuine disclosure? After watching this video lecture by Michael Schratt (below), I think Richard has good reason to doubt full disclosure is coming.

Let’s assume for discussion that the government is hiding physical aliens. For that to be true, there must be at least one thing that the aliens and the shadow government agree upon: the secrecy. Otherwise, one side or the other would expose the truth in a day or two.

So let’s say there are aliens conspiring with the shadow government to keep their presence secret. Eventually, some of these humans would see the benefits of allowing a bit of advanced technology out into the public arena. For instance, a clean energy source would help us avoid the far-reaching ecologic damage our species is currently inflicting upon the planet.

So how would the shadow government get this technology out to the public without admitting it came from aliens? Simple. They would tell us “the whole truth” about all the UFOs everyone has ever seen…

“These things are black budget aerospace technology that previous generations in their stupidity (not us) foolishly kept secret. But once the old guard retired and died, and we inherited their secret mess, we came clean for the sake of the planet. No, we’re not heros, we just did what anyone else would have done in our place.”

And here’s the video that comes close to setting that up.

(It starts out interesting, then gets boring with the declassified black budget craft. Then it picks up again at minute 37 when the speaker, Michael Schratt, makes a convincing case for a certain well-documented UFO sighting in the US being actually a man-made craft with antigravity tech (electrogravitics).

I doubt that a partial disclosure would satisfy the UFO community, but I’m sure an official “UFOs-are-us” story would satisfy that portion of the public who subject themselves to mainstream TV brainwashing.

And on the positive side, not knowing the whole truth would allow those of us who naturally love enigmas to maintain a sense of ongoing wonder and awe when we look at the stars.

If I were to say something bold and probably a bit inappropriate to my favorite and most-respected UFOlogist, Richard Dolan, it would be this: Please sir, for the sake of joy, take up meditation, markedly limit your carbohydrate intake, do circadian eating and intermittent fasting, exercise regularly, do whatever it takes to get good sleep every night, and make every relevant effort to be a genuinely happy person in the face of frustration. The success of your business and even your marriage depends profoundly upon your own happiness.

Love and hope for genuine disclosure,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Disclaimer: Richard, always check with your healthcare provider before making any lifestyle or dietary changes. But find a functional medicine doctor first.


Bad Cholesterol (LDL) is Innocent of the Crime

For most MD’s, LDL (low density lipoprotein) is “bad cholesterol” because elevated LDL has been associated with atherosclerosis and heart attack (myocardial infarction or MI). As we’ve all heard a million times, “association doesn’t mean causation,” but forgetting this is the mainstream dogma for LDL.

Here’s an important interview that discusses LDL and heart attack (myocardial infarction or MI) in deep but understandable terms.

A few high points:

  1. Doctors who are interested in preventing and reversing type 2 diabetes (not just treating it symptomatically) should measure insulin levels, not glucose levels, because insulin levels become increased many years before glucose levels do, allowing prevention and frequent reversal of type 2 diabetes.
  2. Elevated LDL cholesterol is NOT the cause of atherosclerosis and heart attack. Excess dietary carbohydrate is.
  3. Eating too many dietary carbohydrates over a period of years will chronically elevate insulin until it can no longer get glucose into the cells (insulin resistance). This ultimately causes chronic blood glucose elevation (prediabetes and type 2 diabetes), coronary atherosclerosis and heart attack.
  4. Type 2 diabetics and obese patients are transforming their lives with carbohydrate restriction, intermittent fasting, basic nutrients, and exercise, without counting calories, going hungry or reducing dietary fat.
  5. Mainstream medicine and the drug companies cannot monetize a strategy of fighting diabetes and myocardial infarction at the causal level, so MD’s rarely hear about it or read the literature that explains it.
  6. A coronary artery calcium scan (CAC scan) grades the amount of calcium in arteries of the heart. This tells you how likely you are to drop over dead from a heart attack. None of the other available tests such as lipid panels do this. Some people with normal LDLs have coronary calcification and die of heart attacks while some people with extremely high LDLs have normal coronary arteries and don’t die of heart attacks.
  7. Chronic carbohydrate restriction elevates LDLs (so-called “bad” cholesterol), but does NOT cause coronary atherosclerosis or heart attack.

Here’s a link to all the lectures in this series (while it lasts): https://diabetesessentialsprogram.com/?idev_id=27140.

I’ve listened to four of the interviews, and so far they’re based on peer-reviewed scientific literature. That’s unusual for the alternative health videos I’ve seen in this format.

(I have no affiliation with any of these people, no conflict of interest, and nothing to sell.)

I found the above interview of Dr. Ali on YouTube by googling his name, Dr. Nadir Ali. Hopefully, all the videos in this series will be available on YouTube.

 

Love, longevity, and good health,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Disclaimer: Please always consult a health care provider before changing your lifestyle or diet. This post is for educational purposes only, it’s not medical advice.


Jang the Careful (Cat Propaganda)

“Oh, I’m such a stinky little cat. Stinky, stinky, stinky!”

Jang had forgotten to use the litter box again and was beside himself with shame. Six months of potty training and he still made a mess this morning on the kitchen floor. 

What will the others think?

A moment later, the answer came…

“Jang, have you lost your mind?! Our humans will stop feeding us. They’ll throw us outside to hunt rabbits. We’ll starve!”

Able to hear predators from 3.14159265 miles, Rudy Cotton made plans to move his family back into the woods. Human gardens were tempting, yes, but a wise father always weighs the risk/reward ratio of any good thing. 

“All the summer carrots in the world can’t atone for a pride of vicious predators poised to pounce,” he reasoned.

And so Rudy was off to consult Gramps on his plan to move back home…

The old rabbit spoke carefully. “Voices of the future have you heard.” He waddled over to the refrigerator. “Fleeing from danger, are you? But into greater danger will you run, my young Rudi.” Gramps stroked his whiskered chin. “Consider the sea turtle…” 

“Born is she, beneath gull and talon. Into dark waters she must flee. But swallowed there she be, by fanged monsters and the finned. And so should she wonder, ‘If from the beach I had not wandered, living would I now be?'”

“Stop trying to sound like Yoda, Gramps.” Rudy could take only so much. 

“You’re not even doing it right,” Rudy said, but as fast as he’d said it, he wished he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry, Gramps. Your Yoda is OK… No, really.”

And so Rudy, Gramps and the whole Cotton family carried all their things back into the woods.

Meanwhile, Jang the Careful redoubled his effort to use the litter box.

And forever after, he stayed strictly out of trouble with his human family.

“For caution is the very signature of wisdom,” he would often say.

The end.

M. Talmage Moorehead


Solar Bankruptcy

Not that you need one more thing to worry about, but with Earth’s magnetic shield weakened by 9 to 15 percent, and scientists saying that in the next 15 years or so another coronal mass ejection like the Carrington Event of 1859 will probably fry all the bank computers and wipe out the records of our financial holdings, maybe it’s time we made some simple adjustments.

Like hoarding freeze-dried food, buying noncollectable silver coins, and learning how to grow vegetables?

I don’t know.

Another option would be to believe those who tell us that the circuit breakers in today’s grid will protect us. “I’m sure we’ll all be perfectly safe.”

Either way, this video is an important message from a bright young mind…

It’s charming how Anton Petrov smiles right through predictions of global disaster. From his LinkedIn page, he appears to have a Christian background of some sort. All the more reason to appreciate his delivery, says I.

For people of faith, it’s tempting to use any dire warning from scientists as a springboard to proclaim superiority: “If God allows this, so be it. I have bigger fish to fry… spiritual fish.”

From studies outside my expertise, I strongly suspect that Noah and his flood story were not mythical inventions but historic realities, at least in the broad strokes.

If this is right, the religious elites of Noah’s day surely said to him, “Have a little faith, old man. Stop worrying about the things of this world and get rid of those stinking flamingos.”

Back in the day, when the fundamentalist church I belonged to was transitioning from “salvation by works” to “salvation by faith,” the reformers abhorred Benjamin Franklin’s words, “God helps those who help themselves.” They would have disliked the original Greek saying even more, “The gods help those who help themselves.”

But Ben and the Greeks were right, I think. Noah would have agreed. And James, too.

Speaking of James, what do you make of this, attributed to Jesus in the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas:

“No matter where you come, it is to James the Just that you shall go, for whose sake heaven and earth have come to exist.

Wow. I mean, geocentric religion is one thing, but the whole cosmic enchilada was created for brother James?

It reminds me of how some Christians think that their church is the most important thing in the Universe from God’s perspective. “And don’t be ridiculous, there’s no way God would let my church be devastated by a blast from the sun.”

Maybe that’s right. But possibly that belief will someday be about as apocryphal as the Gospel of Thomas and the near-divinity of James.

So maybe it would make sense to care about solar activity and prepare for what’s coming.

Love and solar prepping,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Genocidal Racism? The case of the missing Vitamin D Research

I just found this important video:

This man, Dr. John Campbell, is a clinical nurse who is apparently using the title “Doctor” appropriately for modern times. I mention this because I mistakenly assumed he was an M.D. in a previous post. Sorry, this just shows my age.

Anyway, in the first part of this video, which is an excellent deep-dive into the groundbreaking paper I spoke of in the last post, Dr. Campbell suggests that there’s something sinister going on at the highest levels of healthcare…

It’s something that could be interpreted as racism with genocidal intent on the part of the international healthcare authorities.

In essence, Dr. Campbell senses conspiracy in the quite apparent reluctance of mainstream medicine to run definitive vitamin D trials on COVID-19 patients, despite the evidence in its favor. Dr. Campbell doesn’t mention racism directly, but points out the disproportionate numbers of deaths in the Black and Hispanic communities. Then he focuses on the inexpensive nature of vitamin D, leaving the listener to connect the dots to Big Pharma and the money they stand to make with a patentable drug cure, vaccine, etc.

This left me thinking about corporate elites, racism, and a conspiracy to commit genocide.

Is it just me? Probably.

Dr. Campbell has been talking on YouTube for many months about the logic and the literature evidence favoring the use of vitamin D for COVID-19 patients, especially those patients with darker skin who are at greater risk of vitamin D deficiency, and at much greater risk of dieing of COVID-19 (not by coincidence, it turns out). In light of the first small clinical trial of Vitamin D, there appears to be a cause-and-effect link here.

Ordinarily, I don’t put the brakes on a perfectly healthy conspiracy theory. To me, genuine conspiracies are common. Unless I’m mistaken, the CIA’s official job is to conspire against all perceived and potential enemies of the US. They didn’t invented the term “conspiracy theory” but there’s an internal CIA memo that uses the pleural form “conspiracy theories” in explaining how to prop up the mainstream version of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. As far as I know, their official job isn’t to influence public opinion, though they seem to believe it is. We’re told that conspiracy theories were considered a normal part of analytical thinking until the late 1950s, when delving deeper than a sports reporter became stigmatised.

But in the case of the missing Vitamin D research, I think we might NOT be dealing with an elite’s racism or genocidal intent. I think there’s a simpler explanation.

One of the first things they drilled into our heads in med school was “supplemental vitamins are hogwash.” There was one exception: pregnant woman needed extra folate to prevent neural tube defects in their babies. It probably pained the professors to admit this, but it was the exception that proved the rule for them.

“Taking vitamins just gives you expensive urine,” they said. The frightened, exhausted students laughed politely, but all such jokes have a powerful indoctrination value.

Remember the shame of letting anyone know you thought UFOs were real five to 15 years ago? That feeling came from jokes at the expense of the “crazy people.” You didn’t want to be one of them.

In the medical community, the vast majority of doctors don’t have time, curiosity or energy enough to read. Big Pharma comes by the office (with food and gifts in the old days) and presents their own funded, peer-reviewed literature about their own drugs. This is the real “continuing medical education” for many doctors in the US.

This is how many, if not most, MD’s have maintained an ignorant certainty about the uselessness of vitamin supplementation. To solidify that certainty, most of us have lectured family and friends on the subject many times, glad to be seen as an authority capable of debunking the entire over-the-counter pill industry.

In the old days at LLUMC, there was one doctor on campus who bravely bucked the anti-vitamin dogma and lectured med students on the benefits of vitamin supplementation. What an unsung hero!

He was the common brunt of jokes among the faculty, residents, and medical students.

Years later, when I was an attending pathologist, I said something positive about vitamin C. A young pathology resident across the scope looked at me incredulously. “You don’t believe in vitamins, do you? You don’t agree with Dr. ____?”

I asked him if he had read a single article of basic research showing the effects of vitamin supplementation on laboratory animals. He admitted he hadn’t. I told him he should read before making up his mind.

“But you don’t think Dr. ____ is right, do you?” he asked.

“He’s more right than the rest of us,” I said.

The resident shook his head in disbelief. What a disappointment I’d become.

And so it goes. The carefully ingrained prejudice against vitamin supplementation, drilled in by Big Pharma for decades, still exists around the world.

This is the true cause of the reluctance of those in authority to run large, so-called “definitive” clinical trials of Vitamin D on COVID-19 patients. Or am I wrong?

The “deep state/cabal/military-congressional-industrial complex” will probably never admit that they’ve been lying to us about UFOs since the 1940s.

Similarly, mainstream medicine couldn’t possibly relish the thought of demonstrating to the world just how fatally wrong they’ve been in their crusade against vitamin supplements.

Why not send a link of Dr. Campbell’s video to anyone you know who might not be taking vitamin D yet? You might save their life.

Love, Sunshine and Vitamin D3,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Vitamin D Cuts the Severity of COVID-19 in a Clinical Trial !

The scientific evidence for taking Vitamin D to decrease the severity of COVID-19 continues to come in with this prospective clinical pilot study (randomized and blinded).

Here’s the link: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0960076020302764?via%3Dihub

Results…

“Of 50 patients treated with calcifediol, one required admission to the ICU (2%), while of 26 untreated patients, 13 required admission (50%)… p < 0.001.”  

Conclusion…

“Our pilot study demonstrated that administration of a high dose of Calcifediol or 25-hydroxyvitamin D, a main metabolite of vitamin D endocrine system, significantly reduced the need for ICU treatment of patients requiring hospitalization due to proven COVID-19. Calcifediol seems to be able to reduce severity of the disease….”

Note:

The stuff they gave the trial patients in this experiment was Calcifediol (also called “Calcidiol” and 25-hydroxyvitamin D). It is not vitamin D2 or D3.  Instead, calcifediol is the hormonal form of vitamin D that the liver makes from vitamin D2 and D3. This hormonal form is then converted in the kidneys to the active form, calcitriol (25-hydroxyvitamin D).

Ordinarily, vitamin D2 and D3 come from the diet and the sun, but the mainstream is now beginning to admit that many, if not most of us, are NOT getting enough vitamin D without supplementation, whether D2 or D3.

So which is better, D3 or D2 supplements?

There are conflicting studies. The mainstream now says it probably doesn’t matter, but this could change next week.

I take D3 this week.

Keep in mind that genetic SNPs are still being regularly ignored in almost all randomized clinical trials. This is the fundamental weakness of almost all mainstream clinical medical literature, especially when negative findings are touted as proof that a treatment or supplement is worthless to every individual in the entire world.

A possible example of this ubiquitous error might be evident in my experience with ginkgo biloba.

Out there somewhere in the ether there’s a randomized clinical trial that has “proven” (to the mainstream medical community of overworked, under-appreciated drones) that ginkgo biloba doesn’t help anyone’s memory. Don’t waste your money, right?

And yet with my unique list of genetic SNPs, when I took Ginkgo back in the 1990s, I was astonished that I could, for the first time, remember where I had parked my car in the VA’s vast parking lot. I could visualize my parked car and its location effortlessly when I walked out into the darkness after a day’s work.

Anecdotal evidence is not rubbish. They call it “evidence” for a reason.

For what it’s worth, Dr. Amen (of the Amen Clinics) says that in all of his (broad) anecdotal clinical experience, the most normal looking spect brain scans he sees tend to come from patients who have been taking ginkgo biloba.

Rubbish? Not in my book.

Fortunately, the vitamin D clinical trial mentioned above showed strong statistical significance. If it had not, it would have been widely quoted by the mainstream as “proof” that taking vitamin D supplements for COVID-19 is a waste of time.

Since the future studies of Vitamin D and COVID-19 will involve larger numbers of randomized patients whose genetic differences (SNPS and epigenetic markers) will be ignored as usual, as if non-existent, it is likely that the statistical significance of the benefits of taking vitamin D for COVID-19 will be lower (a higher p-value) than we see in this small study with its strikingly significant (low) p-value of less than 0.001. (The higher the p-value, the more likely the results are due to coincidence, of course.)

But if significance disappears in larger trials, don’t let it convince you that Vitamin D supplementation “is now known to be of no clinical benefit for COVID-19 patients.” That would be rubbish.

The more they homogenize the genetic differences of populations by including larger and larger numbers of random individuals in clinical trials, the less likely something that helped a few genetic outliers in a small study will show up as statistically significant. And the thing is, many of us are “genetic outliers” in one way or another, because there are so MANY genes.

Here’s an analogy: in surgical pathology practice it’s common to see rare tumors. But isn’t this a contradiction? If you see them a lot, how could they be rare?

A pathologist sees rare tumors fairly often because there are a huge number or different varieties of rare tumors. You may see only one case of bilateral pheochromocytoma in your lifetime, but the next day you will probably see some other rare tumor that you’ll never see again.

The current black-and-white world (of mainstream clinical trials) that foolishly ignores genetic diversity to everyone’s detriment will someday change and become a joke for first-year medical students.

Not a joke, a grim anecdote.

Like the one about…

How we used to go from the morgue to the maternity ward in the 1840s without handwashing. Mainstream doctors did this, literally killing countless women by inoculating them with bacteria that caused “childbed fever.” All this, while ignoring the fringe voice of Ignaz Semmelweis and doing everything in science’s dark tradition to ruin the careers of the fringe, in this case, the Father of Handwashing.

How dare anyone challenge the settled science of miasmas with this fringy bacterial nonsense?

Love and good health,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Material Girl from Medusa Merger

I blacked out on the first drop of the Kingda Ka, probably the meanest roller-coaster in the world, Six Flags in New Jersey.

I didn’t realize it, but I sort of switched places with myself. It was like I had always been here inside this little spaceship, looking out at the back side of the Moon with some hot blond alien girl. Her name was Shibani.

Sweet.

We’d been talking awhile.

Her hair was yellow-blond, you know? Not white. Her eyes were violet and familiar, both rare on Earth.

“You gotta be kidding,” I said when our conversation came back to me. “You’re a materialist?” A disgusted expression came over me, but I pulled back fast. “The best physicists I know say materialism is dead and gone.”

“Yes, but I’m not that breed. Space-time isn’t flat.”

Her lips didn’t move, but I could hear her voice. Worse yet, it seemed normal.

“My people believe energy is conscious.” She pointed a thin index finger at the ceiling and twirled it. I found myself staring.

She had no fingernails!

Pretending it didn’t matter, I said, “But if energy and mass are interchangeable, you’re saying everything here is conscious, right? Like this goofy chair.” I leaned over and patted the arm of a child-size chair like the one she was sitting on. “Does this thing have a mind of its own? If a Jewish man in a moment of weakness builds a statue of Buddah, bows down and worships it… is it thinking, ‘Don’t get too attached, dude”?

She laughed. “Consciousness collapses when the wave function collapses.”

Out on the back side of the Moon, an asteroid smashed into a giant spherical structure. An astronaut in a stay-puff suit stumbled away from the edge of a small new crater. I blinked and tried to ignore my desire to help the poor guy. What could I do, anyway?

“So light is conscious until someone measures it, huh?” I pulled my eyes off the moon and gave Shibani the skeptical eyebrow thing. I’d practiced that expression for months so I could do it on command. Well worth the effort now.

“There’s individual mind and Transcendent Mind,” she said. “Before a light wave collapses into a particle, it carries Transcendent Mind and exists independently of the space-time interface. When a light wave comes into contact with an individual mind in space-time, it joins this realm and becomes a measurable photon. The Transcendent Mind vanishes, and now it’s part of the physical context we call the Universe.”

I had a physicist friend, Don Hoffman, who talked like this.

Or did I?

I tried to picture his face, but couldn’t. It was like trying to remember a dream from last week.

I tried to picture my family, but each of their faces had faded into a tan fuzz.

I remembered my Hopi friend, Joy Pisano, telling me that when someone dies without being prepared for the next life, that person wanders the spirit world looking for familiar things, haunted by vague memories.

Was this happening to me now? Was I dead?

I looked out beyond the edges of the Moon for the Earth but couldn’t find her anywhere.

If only this girl had fingernails, I wouldn’t be all alone.

Shibani, what are you?

No, don’t ask. Just breathe. Don’t panic, be conceptual.

“OK, so does this mean the Universe is a simulation?”

“You could say that.” She cupped her palms, held them up facing each other and fluttered the fingers of her right hand. “From here, the Universe is as real as love and suffering. As real as good and evil.” Then she fluttered the fingers of her left hand. “But from beyond the interface, the Universe is all good, just another option for personal growth. A simulation, you might say.”

“What type of growth are you talking about?”

She pointed outside at the astronaut, now lying flat on his back, motionless beside the new crater. A woman with no spacesuit came up from the underground, knelt beside him and collapsed over his body.

“This Universe develops courage through love and suffering.”

I awoke with stars curling through my head. We were at the bottom of Kingda Ka’s first drop and barrelling on to another splendid terror. The girl beside me, Amanda Stanly, had her eyes closed and a grip on my right hand. I squeezed her fingers, pulled them up to my lips and kissed them.

Fingernails! Jet black and perfect.

A sense of relief flooded over me from head to toe, like the welcome tendrils of a hot shower on a frosty winter morning.

An image flashed into my head, and my phone signaled a text…

I fumbled a hand into my coat pocket, pulled out my phone and glanced at the screen as another set of G-forces arrived. The phone slipped away and flew off into the night, but I’d read the message.

Love from Medusa Merger.”

M. Talmage Moorehead


“We are a cancer and there is no cure,” – TV News Industry Leader

Perhaps you’ve heard that Ariana N. Pekary, an MSNBC producer, left her job without first lining up another one.

I’ve done this twice in my career as a pathologist, so I know just how insufferable a job needs to become before a person goes out on this limb and saws it off.

Ariana explains her decision on her blog: here…

You may not watch MSNBC but just know that this problem still affects you, too. All the commercial networks function the same – and no doubt that content seeps into your social media feed, one way or the other.

How does this cancer affect all commercial networks?

It forces skilled journalists to make bad decisions on a daily basis.

More specifically…

It’s possible that I’m more sensitive to the editorial process due to my background in public radio, where no decision I ever witnessed was predicated on how a topic or guest would “rate.” The longer I was at MSNBC, the more I saw such choices — it’s practically baked in to the editorial process – and those decisions affect news content every day. Likewise, it’s taboo to discuss how the ratings scheme distorts content, or it’s simply taken for granted, because everyone in the commercial broadcast news industry is doing the exact same thing.

Is this just the opinion of one disgruntled producer?

…behind closed doors, industry leaders will admit the damage that’s being done.

“We are a cancer and there is no cure,” a successful and insightful TV veteran said to me. “But if you could find a cure, it would change the world.”

In what way?

As it is, this cancer stokes national division, even in the middle of a civil rights crisis. The model blocks diversity of thought and content because the networks have incentive to amplify fringe voices and events, at the expense of others… all because it pumps up the ratings.

Here’s a heuristic worth remembering: The more you yearn to silence your opponents, the more subjective your opinions.

Unfortunately, Ariana’s resignation has been misused as evidence that a conservative bias is superior to a liberal bias.

This misses the point entirely!

Diversity of opinion sustains life.

Monopoly is life’s enemy, whether it’s an invasive species wiping out native life forms or a monopoly of opinion wiping out voices of dissent.

When google’s artificial intelligence locks you into an echo chamber of bias, it doesn’t matter which chamber you’re in. They’ve got you. You will make bad decisions because you have been rendered unable to apply rational thought to the opinions of the other side, the opinions that would normally offer you some diversity.

Diversity is the lifeblood of free will. Without it, we become puppets of google’s AIs or other totalitarian forces.

When TV news industry leaders privately admit that “we are a cancer,” and a cure would “change the world,” where can we turn?

In my humble and yet infallible opinion, (ha, ha) the cure is educating ourselves on the UFO phenomenon and the intelligent mind(s) behind it, possibly aliens of both physical and ethereal substance. Possibly “breakaway” Earthlings of some variety.

Whether or not this idea sounds completely nuts to you now, it’s nearly certain that after you’ve spent a year or two acquainting yourself with the world’s most credible UFO data, you’ll find your devotion to conservative and/or liberal politics fading into a broader perspective.

Humanity is one. Philosophical and political diversity are as essential to our survival as genetic and spiritual diversity.

Love to both sides of the aisle,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


“I don’t think anybody knows where these craft are from.” – Leslie Kean

This morning I was way unmotivated, as if I’d sabotaged my day with carbohydrates in the morning. Rookie mistake, but that wasn’t it.

So I took my side-kick, Halo, down to the man cave, sat in the dark on my couch and did a YouTube search for Jay at Project Unity.

Glad I did.

Remember Leslie Kean and Ralph Blumenthal, the two reporters who (with the Washington correspondent Helene Cooper) broke the major UFO stories in the NY Times back in 2017, and recently brought us the NY Times news that Eric Davis, PhD…

gave a classified briefing to a Defense Department agency as recently as March about retrievals from “off-world vehicles not made on this earth.”

Here’s the first-ever interview with both these reporters, conducted by Jay, a brilliant young UFO experiencer who started Project Unity:

I thought the whole interview was full of fascinating details and cautious perspectives, but the following quote was the highlight for me (41:35 on the video)…

Leslie Keen: “I just want to comment further because you brought up the whole concept of aliens, Jay, right? I have a bit of a problem because people do tend to extrapolate. You know, like, people will pick up the story and have something in the headlines that says, you know, “The New York Times Says Aliens Have Crashed on Earth.” If that’s what you’re asking by your question, I just think, you know,  it’s very important not to take this beyond what we are actually reporting and what we actually know. And even if there are crashes that have been, that are being reverse-engineered, our sense is that they haven’t made a lot of progress with that reverse engineering. And I don’t think anybody knows much about where these craft are from, or all the questions that everybody has a desire to understand.”

Later, Jay follows up:

Jay: “…reverse-engineering. And you thought it was probably a long process without much success. And I was just wondering if that’s an opinion brought on by your research into the Admiral Wilson—Eric Davis notes.”

Leslee Kean: “You know, I probably shouldn’t have, you know, I don’t think I can expand on that anymore. It’s a sense that I have from sources I’ve spoken to. But I really don’t think I can say anything more about it, Jay. Sorry about that.”

I get the impression Leslie Kean almost said, “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

Later Leslie had this to say about Dr. Eric W. Davis:

Leslie Kean: “I have tremendous – and so does Ralph – we have tremendous respect for Eric Davis. He’s a fantastic source. He’s been very cooperative with us and very, very helpful and forthcoming. And so we take our hat off to him.”

The following statement by Ralph Blumenthal also seemed significant to me (because Richard Dolan is my favorite UFO historian):

Ralph Blumenthal: “There are people who are very rigorous in their approach, like Rich Dolan… and you, Jay, who are very rigorous in their approach, and careful, and understand what the issues are….”

Three cheers for Dolan!

He did an interview with Jay here. Jay describes one (and a half?) of his UFO experiences for which he meditated, hoping to initiate contact with the phenomenon.

At the end of the interview, Dolan talks about something dear to my heart, the Christian concept of loving your enemies. As interested as I am in UFOs and Alien beings, I’m far more interested in learning how to love our enemies without being devoured by them.

Anyway, somewhere on Jay’s YouTube channel, he describes the meditation he used before his experiences. Jay says his meditation is simpler than Dr. Greer’s CE5 (close encounters of the fifth kind) meditation.

I’m a little jittery about all this. With my lengthy and abandoned background of fundamentalist Christianity, I can’t help being worried about “opening the door” to ethereal forces that the Church said were evil. But that’s my baggage. I’ll deal with it.

If UFOlogy is leading us all to love our enemies, you can count me in.

Love and courage,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 

 


A Writing Breakthrough in Progress

In the 1990s and early 2000s, I spent many early mornings struggling to learn how to day-trade the financial futures markets under the benevolent wing of a quadriplegic friend who had earned a good living day-trading for decades. He is no longer with us, God rest his soul.

I gave up the learning process in 2005, realizing I couldn’t develop the requisite nerves of steel.

In retrospect, the thing that still baffles me is how well the public “retail” traders were managed through the dissemination of bad group-think information. The non-trading public “knew” that day trading was gambling. No one could win in the long run. The retail day-trading public saw through this lie, but their “experts” made a living teaching, not trading. These experts had the retail traders brainwashed into following a variety of well-known chart setup patterns and retail trading systems.

The professional traders inside huge financial corporations took advantage of this brainwashing and also contributed to it.

A pro could look at a futures chart and know exactly where the retail traders with their simple chart setup patterns would have placed their automatic stop-loss triggers. This allowed the pros with liquid billions at their fingertips to micro-influence the market at strategic moments, causing it to “run” the retail trader’s stops.

This was how they collected the retail day-trader’s money as a matter of routine. I bet they’re still doing it today.

The only way I ever beat the pros at all was to wait (and wait and wait for months) until there was a huge intraday crash that was too great to be manipulated by the pros. On these rare occasions, I would short a “skirt pattern” (also known as a “leg pattern”) which consisted of a brief, roughly 2-point pullback on the 3-minute es chart during a rapid, steep downward intraday trend.

Too much information, I know. It bores me, too.

But I mention it because I see something similar going on now in the scriptwriting community.

Years ago, when I discovered Save the Cat by the late Blake Snyder, I could see the advantages of plot planning (or outlining a fictional story before writing it). I later learned that Snyder was not the first to offer a one-size-fits-all story outlining plan. No big deal.

But gradually I watched as an endless parade of writing gurus presented similar strategies, most of them resembling The Hero’s Journey by Joseph Campbell. It began to smell like “group think” rather than teen spirit.

So when I came across a YouTube video by Film Courage featuring Corey Mandell’s bubble-bursting message, I listened carefully.

He was saying that any script or screenplay that follows a one-size-fits-all story structure will be tossed out by the current gatekeepers in Hollywood. I mentioned this here.

Not having any interest in Hollywood screenplays, I wondered if Mr. Mandell’s advice might apply to my rock-n-roll dream, novel writing.

I joined his mailing list and soon heard about “creative integration,” the concept of separating a writer’s conceptual mind from her/his intuitive mind, building each aspect up separately, and then integrating the two so they can work together rather than always being at odds.

This convinced me to take the first of his three classes in scriptwriting. I just finished the first class and will begin the second one in September.

So far, his approach to story creation seems unique and ingenious. I’ve been at this fiction writing thing since the mid-90s. I’ve spent thousands on writing education, and I’ve read over 80 how-to books on the subject, so it really surprised me to find an entire world of new writing advice that I hadn’t heard a peep about before.

In the first eight-week class, Corey spent a bit over half the time teaching his principles of left-hemisphere, “conceptual” story creation. This was pleasantly and totally free of the typical story structure advice where a particular category of events must happen at about the 10% mark, and then some other category of story event should happen at the 25% mark, and so on.

Instead, Corey’s “conceptual” training focused on the emotional experience of the reader and how to influence it deliberately and logically.

This was spellbinding stuff. But the other half, his “intuitive” training, is the big deal for me. So far it’s improving my process profoundly. Here’s how and why…

Although I’m an intuitive writer (a.k.a. a seat-of-the pants writer and not a natural plotter), I have a genetic SNP that’s associated with a curious trait: the tendency to respond actively and permanently to negative feedback by avoiding the criticized behavior. Weird, yeah?

So all the “never do this” writing advice I’ve read in books and received in schools has transformed me into a writer who edits obsessively while I’m writing. When writing fiction, I always feel that the words I’ve written are awkward and need to be rearranged to sound better and avoid embarrassment.

This makes me a ridiculously slow writer. It also leads me to edit out all life, personality and voice from my fiction prose for the sake of efficient wording.

It’s not the end of the world, but it’s an interesting setback. The kind of problem I enjoy fixing.

And the thing is, the part of Corey Mandell’s method that excels at teaching “conceptual” writers how to write “intuitively” seems to be teaching me, an “intuitive” writer, how to write without obsessive editing.

He does this by creating a judgement-free writing zone. The details are probably proprietary, otherwise I’d spell them out for you now.

But for me, fixing my writing programming will require practice over a significant time.

It’s like anything where new neuronal pathways must be established and then widened through precise repetitive practice over an extended length of time, (“neurons that fire together wire together” with myeline) while old inefficient pathways must be allowed to atrophy naturally with disuse.

So for me, learning about Corey Mandell’s method is one remarkable thing, but developing any ability at all to use the intuitive half of it for my unique writing problem is an entirely different thing: a long process. An enjoyable one, fortunately.

I’m still not sure if I’ll ever write a screenplay, let alone send one to a Hollywood gatekeeper who through some miracle of divine intervention might read the first page before throwing it away. But as a novelist in perpetual training, I wholeheartedly give Corey Mandell’s class my highest recommendation. (I’ve completed only the first class of the trio, remember.)

Of course, the other point of this article is to cast light on this fact: Western culture is subject to intense information control and “opinion moulding.”

If information is power and power is money and money is food for your children, then it makes sense that anyone with secret info would hoard and protect it. The UFO community claims that the “deep state” or “national security apparatus” spends at least twice as much money on secrecy as they do on R&D or science. If true, it would fit the pattern of secret info hoarding and opinion moulding that pervades society.

The ubiquitous dogma of micro-managed story structure (Save the Cat et al.) arising from within the writing community, especially prevalent in the “retail” scriptwriting community, 99% of whom can’t sell a script, is a glimpse into something both strange and routine.

It probably results from natural market forces that mislead a majority so a minority can continue to make money and keep their trade secrets away from retail scriptwriters. Thus they avoid turning their customers into competitors. It’s the same as the old day-trading divide: professionals versus retail day-traders. Similar to the UFO secrecy divide and motivated, I think, by the same feelings that recently possessed Facebook to censor Ben Davidson, one of the most fascinating young minds on Earth right now. He talks about his censorship by Facebook in a brief video that’s well worth watching right now…

 

Conspiring with love and respect,

Morrill  Talmage Moorehead, MD


NY Times: UFO Craft Retrieval Admission

The so-called Davis-Wilson document is said to be the most important UFO document of all time.

I spent several weeks gradually listening to an entire 5-hour discussion of the document here. It’s a fifteen-page document written by Eric Davis, PhD, about a meeting he had with Vice Admiral Thomas Willson. You can read it here. I think Astronaut Edgar Mitchell, God rest his soul,  and UFO Guru Steven Greer, MD were also at the meeting, but maybe they were at a preliminary meeting, I’m not clear on this. The meeting took place decades ago and covered a wide range of UFO topics, including Wilson’s failed attempt to get info about a covert project going on at a defense contractor’s hideout, reportedly involving a recovered UFO.

Yesterday I saw an article in the NY Times (here) in which Eric Davis PhD himself, states that he’s aware of retrievals of alien spacecrafts. Here’s the quote from the NY Times article:

Eric W. Davis, an astrophysicist who worked as a subcontractor and then a consultant for the Pentagon U.F.O. program since 2007, said that, in some cases, examination of the materials had so far failed to determine their source and led him to conclude, “We couldn’t make it ourselves.”

The constraints on discussing classified programs — and the ambiguity of information cited in unclassified slides from the briefings — have put officials who have studied U.F.O.s in the position of stating their views without presenting any hard evidence.

Mr. [sic] Davis, who now works for Aerospace Corporation, a defense contractor, said he gave a classified briefing to a Defense Department agency as recently as March about retrievals from “off-world vehicles not made on this earth.”

Mr. Davis said he also gave classified briefings on retrievals of unexplained objects to staff members of the Senate Armed Services Committee on Oct. 21, 2019, and to staff members of the Senate Intelligence Committee two days later.

Committee staff members did not respond to requests for comment on the issue.

So far, I’m hearing crickets from the media. Once again, one of the most paradigm-shattering pieces of information that our Western culture has stumbled upon in modern times will become yesterday’s ignored news.

For what it’s worth, here’s that 5-hour Dolan interview of an anonymous UFO enthusiast who, to me, sounds like a church school principal scolding a freshman skeptic. (Mellow out, dude, whoever you are.)

The lack of media response to the Times article probably stems from the way the editors tucked in Davis’ earth-shaking admission at the end of an otherwise yawn-worthy rehash of yesterday’s UFO news.

For me, UFO crash recovery is undeniable now. I’m 100% convinced that humans have been retro-engineering recovered alien craft for several years, possibly since the 1940s.

If anyone listens to Dolan’s whole 5 hour interview, please let me know. You’ll have my sympathy and admiration. I was spellbound pretty much throughout, but I like long lectures.

The NY POST also mentions Dr. Davis and quotes Senator Rubio:

“We have things flying over our military bases and places where we are conducting military exercises and we don’t know what it is — and it isn’t ours,” Rubio said. “Frankly, that if it’s something from outside this planet — that might actually be better than the fact that we’ve seen some technological leap on behalf of the Chinese or the Russians or some other adversary that allows them to conduct this activity.”

OK, the man’s English ain’t real good, but I like his enthusiasm for this topic. It’s amazing to realize we live in a time when senators talk openly about UFOs and a certain PhD says he’s already got one at the office.

Nothing but love, Earthlings,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Alien Reproduction Vehicle

In real life, we tend to think in binary, black-and-white terms. The good guys versus the bad. It’s simple and ingrained.

But, as you know, if you spend a few years trying to become a fiction writer, you learn that villains can’t be all bad, and good guys can’t be flawless. Otherwise your characters are flat, unrealistic and boring.

In the UFO community, binary thinking dominates. The “evil” people of the “Cabal” (the super-dark aspects of the military-industrial complex) are supposedly all sociopaths whose only motivation is to continue hiding free energy technology and advanced propulsion technology from the public so they can line their pockets in petrodollars while petting a black cat.

The feeling is, if only we could get rid of these misanthropes, we’d have free energy, clean air, no more world hunger, and vacations to Andromada.

Maybe so, but…

Actual life is not like TV politics. The good guys are not limited to your political party, backed by the truth on the news stations you watch. The bad guys are not all members of the opposite political party, backed by the fake news on the outlets you dislike.

Real life probably isn’t even reflected in any fundamentalist religious or anti-religious group’s version of truth that puts God (or no God) on their side, while the falsehoods of other religious or anti-religious groups put Satan (or no Satan) in charge of them.

Here’s a video that describes in great detail one sincere, honest-sounding man’s insights into a 1960s flying saucer, allegedly built by Skunk Works.

Personally, I’m about 95% convinced that humanity actually has this type of technology now. Your mileage may vary. 🙂

But the thing I’m not convinced of is that the entire UFO community has an accurate assessment of the bad motivation of the insiders, the “evil sociopaths” who seem to hide and control this technology.

Let’s think about it…

Imagine you’re a fiction writer trying to get into the head of your “villain” to make her/him more of a realistic, rounded character. You need to find a legitimate reason for this person to hide zero point energy and electrogravitics from the rest of the world.

Here are some possibilities that jump out at us:

1. The technology behind zero point energy, like the technology behind nuclear power, can be used in weapons of mass destruction in addition to warming water for clean electricity production.

2. There may be some negative health or environmental side effect to the use of zero point energy. So far, nearly every technological advance we’ve made has brought an unintended negative consequence or three. A few examples: antibiotics save lives but create superbugs, all pharmaceuticals bring symptomatic (rarely causal) relief but cause lists of possible negative side effects (rarely fatal), the internal combustion engine made transportation easier but brought pollution and the megacity’s impersonal culture with ironic human isolation, diminished eye contact and a near absence of smiling… the list of examples is endless.

3. The unelected “Cabal” within the free world’s governments considers zero point energy and electrogravitic technologies to be their highest military advantages over their perceived enemies in the communist dictatorships. They are therefore loath to surrender these military advantages.

4. The use of small zero point energy devices in the houses and cars of billions around the globe might affect climate change or something much worse. All publically available energy devices generate heat as a byproduct. Perhaps a zero point energy device that could run a person’s home would not only make the grid obsolete (a wonderful thing) but also elevate the average temperature of the earth to a detrimental degree, or worse yet, warm the interface of the Earth’s crust with its core allowing the crust to detach and tilt due to the centrifugal force acting upon the heavy polar ice caps (an idea detailed in a scientific context at SuspiciousObservers.org).

5. Unlimited free energy would mean that food could be grown hydroponically in virtually inexhaustible quantities, the limitation being only in the technology of liquid fertilizers, grow lights, and the vertical stacking of crops. Ocean water could be desalinated at little cost and freely pumped to the distant corners of every desert. While this would eliminate world hunger, (yeah!) it might also eliminate humanity’s primary motivation for working. It’s difficult to speculate with confidence about this, but work seems to be essential to most people’s mental health (including children), just as exercise is essential to everyone’s physical health (including children). If free energy were to vastly diminish our need to work, it might become an extinction-level evolutionary stressor for us, or worse yet, a negative force upon the average person’s integrity. “Idle hands are the devil’s playground.”

6. The term “alien reproduction vehicle” implies the existence of literal aliens, of course. While the average person nowadays knows very little about the existence of UFOs, let alone the technology behind them, we know even less about the motivations of any alleged alien species. Stepping around the knee-jerk binary thinking of the respectable Dr. Steven Greer versus the rest of the UFO community (including my favorite UFOlogist Richard Dolan), it seems unlikely that all alien species with the capability of contacting humans would have purely benevolent or purely malevolent feelings about us. (Sentient reality, like biology, is rarely binary.) This would leave the door open to an infinite variety of motivations that the human “Cabal” might have for keeping zero point technology and electrogravitic transportation secret. For instance, perhaps an alien species has told them that secrecy is essential because widespread knowledge of these technologies leads primitive warlike species (like us) to certain self-destruction. Or perhaps aliens have threatened the “Cabal” with something terrible if they blab what they know to the public.

If you’re thinking of other possibilities, I’d like to hear them.

Anyway, the point is, the UFO community might want to look carefully and humbly at their assumptions about the binary evil of “Cabal” secrecy before stampeding downhill on their current path of public disclosure at any costs.

Non-binary love and hugs,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 


Google Fraud? Search Any Number of “new cases”

Have you seen this yet? It looks to me like a new flavor of google fraud, but maybe someone knows a harmless explanation. What do you think?

Anyway, go to Google search engine and type in any number followed by “new cases” and…

No matter what number you search this way, you’ll find exactly that number of “new cases” of COVID-19 in some high-ranked report. 

Here’s the video where I learned of this:

Please try it yourself a few times on the google search engine and see if it gives you the same eerie feeling it gave me.

Any idea how to explain this away?

Do you think it will become TV news, or will it be ignored like the UFO information explosion of recent years?

It’s my opinion that modern “news” is carefully designed to keep one half of the population (at least in the US and Europe) angry and frustrated with the other half about political issues.

The six giant corporations owning and controlling mainstream news have now achieved what seems to be a long-term goal of theirs, namely having the US population evenly divided on politics with each half completely dumbfounded at the ignorance, stupidity and moral depravity of the other half.

Do you think they’ve acted deliberately or was this development just a natural response to public demand for political outrage porn?

At any rate, I think we’d all be far better off if we took political hate news with a grain of salt at all times and tried to think of the people on the other side of the political aisle as normal human beings deserving love and respect.

Also, I think we’d be wise to regard ourselves and others as equally manipulatable by the “news-bubble” echo chambers we individually create for ourselves with google’s online help.

Love and respect,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 

 


Six-Minute Workout Miracle

My calm, loving Labrador Retriever, Halo, gets up and runs for a few seconds like a mad dog at full speed around the backyard several times a week with no encouragement or prompting. Seeing her glowing example a few years ago, I suspected there must be some strange health benefit to mad-dog sprinting. I took it up.

Then I came across a woman’s blog who said that her life transformed dramatically after doing high-intensity interval training. So I doubled my efforts on my treadmill. But I didn’t run at full capacity. Rookie mistake.

And I sprinted on my toes, intending to conserve my knees.  It turns out that sprinting on your toes for a year or two gives you Morton’s neuromas. Live and learn.

Here’s a spell-binding, science-based video that shows how to do this entire thing right, and why it’s magic for your mitochondria and brain health.

Professor David Bishop (Victoria University) took muscle biopsies of a test group (high intensity) and a control group (endurance aerobic exercise) and found up to a 30% increase in the test groups’s muscle fiber’s ability to use oxygen to produce energy after 4 weeks of high-intensity interval training. The control group’s muscle biopsies showed NO improvement.

I wonder if this has any relevance to Eliud Kipchoge’s phenomenal running career: The first (and only) man to run the marathon distance in less than two hours was a sprinter in the early years of his career. (Did he increase his mitochondria’s ability to use oxygen more than the endurance runners who likely spent their entire careers in distance training?)

Reading the comments below the video, I noticed that it disappointed several people to learn that the workout Anja Taylor did took “30 minutes” instead of the six minutes set forth in the video’s title. So I left a comment to this effect:

If you rest 4.5 minutes between sprints, as Anja Taylor did, it takes 20 minutes per workout session (not 30).

She did four 30-second sprints with four 4.5 minute rests after each sprint, totaling a workout time of 20 minutes per session. She did three sessions per week for four months.

So each session took 20 minutes. But you don’t have to rest as long as she did. If you rest 1.5 minutes between 30 second sprints, the total workout time per session is 6 minutes, as advertised. To me, resting a minute and a half after sprinting 30 seconds is more than adequate.

The question from a scientific perspective would be whether the resting time between sprints would change the outcome for the mitochondria. Intuitively, I suspect a shorter resting time adds work stress to the mitochondria, causing greater positive adaptation and a more favorable outcome in terms of mitochondrial capacity to use oxygen. But that’s a guess. I could be wrong.

Anyway, you will really enjoy this video. Especially if you’re a writer working at a desk all day.

Summertime love to you and yours,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

PS. Please check with your doctor before starting this workout routine. But give it a go if she/he says it’s OK for you.


UFOs in Congress

Here’s a link to an official government document where US elected officials attempt to demand from the Navy the collection and reporting of unidentified aerial phenomenon (UAP’s, the PC term for UFOs in DC): https://www.intelligence.senate.gov/publications/intelligence-authorization-act-fiscal-year-2021.

Notice it’s a .gov website, which, as far as I know, cannot be faked.

Here’s the entire (I think) UFO portion of this lengthy document:

Advanced Aerial Threats

The Committee supports the efforts of the Unidentified
Aerial Phenomenon Task Force at the Office of Naval
Intelligence to standardize collection and reporting on
unidentified aerial phenomenon, any links they have to
adversarial foreign governments, and the threat they pose to
U.S. military assets and installations. However, the Committee
remains concerned that there is no unified, comprehensive
process within the Federal Government for collecting and
analyzing intelligence on unidentified aerial phenomena,
despite the potential threat. The Committee understands that
the relevant intelligence may be sensitive; nevertheless, the
Committee finds that the information sharing and coordination
across the Intelligence Community has been inconsistent, and
this issue has lacked attention from senior leaders.
Therefore, the Committee directs the DNI, in consultation
with the Secretary of Defense and the heads of such other
agencies as the Director and Secretary jointly consider
relevant, to submit a report within 180 days of the date of
enactment of the Act, to the congressional intelligence and
armed services committees on unidentified aerial phenomena
(also known as “anomalous aerial vehicles”), including
observed airborne objects that have not been identified.
The Committee further directs the report to include:
1. A detailed analysis of unidentified aerial
phenomena data and intelligence reporting collected or
held by the Office of Naval Intelligence, including
data and intelligence reporting held by the
Unidentified Aerial Phenomena Task Force;
2. A detailed analysis of unidentified phenomena data
collected by:
a. geospatial intelligence;
b. signals intelligence;
c. human intelligence; and
d. measurement and signals intelligence;
3. A detailed analysis of data of the FBI, which was
derived from investigations of intrusions of
unidentified aerial phenomena data over restricted
United States airspace;
4. A detailed description of an interagency process
for ensuring timely data collection and centralized
analysis of all unidentified aerial phenomena reporting
for the Federal Government, regardless of which service
or agency acquired the information;
5. Identification of an official accountable for the
process described in paragraph 4;
6. Identification of potential aerospace or other
threats posed by the unidentified aerial phenomena to
national security, and an assessment of whether this
unidentified aerial phenomena activity may be
attributed to one or more foreign adversaries;
7. Identification of any incidents or patterns that
indicate a potential adversary may have achieved
breakthrough aerospace capabilities that could put
United States strategic or conventional forces at risk;
and
8. Recommendations regarding increased collection of
data, enhanced research and development, and additional
funding and other resources.
The report shall be submitted in unclassified form, but may
include a classified annex.

The above-quoted section of the document is located a tad past the half-way point.

I try to stay positive, but I despise the political hate-porn that dominates the “news” these days. I avoid it like the virulent mind plague it is.

But when I’m forced to watch TV news, I remind myself that none of us has a scientific method of determining which group of outraged political talking heads is feeding us objective truth rather than biased information selection, half-truths, and outright misinformation.

Since each side calls the other “fake news” and touts a cache of “facts” that contradict the “facts” of the other group, you might think one side is right and the other wrong.

If actual living systems were ever that simple, politics would be a matter of thinking carefully and joining the enlightened side of this violent, hateful political war.

But herein lies the media’s deception: political problems are almost always “wicked problems” that have NO simple binary solutions. The media doesn’t want us to know this because if we all understood it, we would see why Democrats and Republicans need one another desperately if we’re ever going to solve our complex problems with a minimum of unexpected negative side-effects.

Medical diseases are superb examples of wicked problems that parallel political problems. The wealthy drug companies would have us see our diseases as simple problems with binary solutions, exactly the way the TV would have us view political problems: “Take our pill. It’s the simple, obvious solution.”

But nearly all pills are binary attempts at solutions to complex problems. They have unintended negative side effects because they’re negotiating the delicate complexities of biochemical pathways with interwoven feedback loops in all directions.

Negative side effects (unintended consequences) arising in complex systems are the very signature of “wicked” problems being addressed by simple binary solutions. It is dangerous to treat wicked problems as if they were binary and had simple black-and-white solutions without the potential for unintended negative consequences.

In medicine, the side effects are sometimes far worse than the disease. The same is routinely true in politics, though it takes some soul-searching and stretching for objectivity to see it for yourself.

Unfortunately, this binary approach to politics is exactly what our “news” outlets and politicians force upon us. They make it look as if there is no alternative to outrage, hatred and binary political thinking.

The side effect of this rookie mistake is violence and hatred.

It’s inherent in the system, though, because virtually all politicians, like the six large “news” outlets promoting and opposing them, must dance to the tunes of the corporate entities that fund them.

Despite the heated political bifurcation, the worst media lie of all time comes to us from both sides equally. It is the notion that one political party is uniformly right and the other is uniformly wrong (evil, ignorant, morally compromised, and factually inaccurate in every detail of their agendas, values and beliefs). This is the Achilles’ heel of peace in the free world.

If you can agree with this perspective, please join me in ignoring the political orientation of the man responsible for bringing us this rare piece of evidence that UFO’s are real and deserve organized analysis by elected officials, the DOD, the Navy, and our many rogue intelligence organizations.

As I understand it, Senator Marco Rubio (R-FL) is behind this piece of legislation. If you’re one who prays, please pray that political prejudice won’t put the kibosh on this rare act of rationality from DC.

Love – across the entire political spectrum,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 

 


Moon Bases and Worldview Neurons

Here’s an honest sounding man, Ken Johnston, who claims to have been working at NASA when the US astronauts landed on the Moon. He says he saw what looked like alien bases in the pictures that came back.

If you’re like me, interested in fringe science and examining all the remarkable claims you can find, you’ve heard this moon-base stuff before from two or three other sources claiming to be eye-witnesses to original photos.

All this is becoming more believable now that the pentagon has publicly admitted that the three UFO videos captured by various fighter piolets since 2004 are genuine UFO’s (a.k.a. UAP’s). I feel sorry for the debunkers now.

Johnston says that the whole “alien coverup” will probably be ended by the US government this November, and when it happens, it won’t be the world’s religions that are shaken to the core, it will be the world’s scientists.

More than anything else the man says, this bit about scientists is the part that rings true for me.

Science has always deluded itself into believing that the current level of sophistication, at any point in time, is no longer primitive.

No delusion has been more persistent, and none has hampered scientific progress more than this one. Forgetting that we’re still a primitive species trying to do science with limited intelligence has closed our minds to important things that seem at first glance to be impossible. Worse yet, our lack or appropriate scientific humility has declared entire fields of scientific inquiry taboo, leaving our species ignorant by choice. Examples include the study of ESP, the study of the paranormal, the study of the cultural effects of scientific and spiritual fundamentalism, and the application of geology to archaeology, to name a few.

In an editorial debunking the “liars” who, like myself, believe there is considerable legitimate scientific evidence for intelligent design in nature, especially in the genetic code, Adam Wilkins, a mainstream scientist, makes a remarkably broad-minded statement:

“Furthermore, those scientists with passionate anti-religious convictions should accept that Science can no more disprove the existence of a Deity or immortal souls than religious people can prove the existence of either. More tolerance of private religious belief, coupled with insistence on what scientific evidence does actually tell us about the history of the world and living things, would be appropriate.

If, in contrast, scientists insist on atheism as the only “logical” belief system or demand that people choose between “evolutionism”—the quasi-philosophic belief in evolution as a guide to what should be—and belief in God, the outcome is not in doubt. More than half the people in the U.S. would choose religion and reject the science.” 

Ironically, if Adam Wilkins and other mainstream scientists would read Signature in the Cell by Stephen Meyer, PhD, with the tolerance Wilkins and authentic science call for, they would probably recognize that Intelligent Design makes better scientific sense than Neo-Darwinism as an explanation for the origins of life and the diversity of forms on this planet.

But the human mind has a special place for an individual’s worldview. It seems to be a place near the core of identity, a place that triggers emotion and squelches reason, and a place that fervently resists change.

For us Christians, the “worldview neurons” tend to be filled with an untestable and unquestionable set of doctrines that include information about the soul, what happens when we die, and what behaviors and beliefs we must accept in this life to get what we want in the next.

For about two-thirds of scientists, the “worldview neurons” are filled with an equally untestable and unquestionable doctrine called “scientific materialism” that assumes there is no soul, no afterlife, and no behavioral norms relevant to an afterlife.

The reason many Christians think of atheism as a religion is probably because the “worldview neurons” of atheist scientists often take on a religious-style resistance to change and an urge to proselytize that reminds us of religious zeal.

Most educated people seem to think that if humans ever come into open contact with an extraterrestrial intelligent species, the aliens will be highly advanced, highly intelligent, and definitely secular, not religious or spiritual.

In the video below, Ken Johnston implies that the reason alien contact will shake the scientific community to the core will be the shock of learning that the aliens are scientifically thousands of years ahead of us. This would expose human science as primitive and perhaps destined to remain far behind the Universe’s most advanced species.

I think Mr. Johnston is partly right. But I think the more shattering aspect of alien disclosure for scientists would be the galling realization that advanced beings are, in fact, devoutly religious and deeply spiritual… at least the benevolent species.

See if you think Ken Johnston really believes what he’s saying in this video…

Would advanced aliens be spiritual or secular? Would they make such a distinction at all? I’d be interested in your opinion.

Love and ESP hugs,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

PS: If you’re over 55, please be especially cautious about transitioning from lock-down mode.

Make sure you’re not vitamin D deficient. (Vit. D deficiency puts you at a much higher risk of serious complications from this virus as well as from several other respiratory viruses.)

Wearing a face mask primarily protects others from you if you’re infected but asymptomatic, which happens a lot. This is because the COVID-19 coronavirus travels several yards through the air when an infected person (even with no symptoms) coughs, sneezes or speaks loudly. So wear a mask as a sign of love and concern for others. Forget all the lame TV coronavirus politics. They’re deliberately manipulating us into outrage and frustration, partly to improve ratings and keep their jobs, and partly to protect their precious political worldviews. To remain employed, they have no choice but to create political outrage porn. Just ignore it.


A Racist Virus, SARS-CoV-2 (Covid-19)

Here’s a scientific paper (an Indonesian Study that’s not peer-reviewed as yet) showing that people with below normal vitamin D levels have a 10-times greater risk of dying from COVID-19 than people with normal vitamin D levels: https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3585561.

The first video below is Dr. John Campbell showing data in which people with darker skin are dying of COVID-19 at a higher rate than people with lighter skin. The stats are shocking, to say the least.

He suggests that since darker skin is less efficient in producing vitamin D3 than lighter skin (because melanin pigment in all races blocks the energy of the sun that drives the chemical conversion of Vitamin D), the higher risk of COVID-19 death for darker-skinned people may be partly due to lower vitamin D3 levels.

He suggests that in the interest of saving the lives of people with darker skin, doctors should check vitamin D levels in COVID-19 patients and “consider” vitamin D3 supplementation for those with low vitamin D levels. Nothing could be more reasonable.

Yet, astonishingly, this doctor has been called a racist for this suggestion. Here’s why:

The malignant and permanently angry religion of Political Correctness dictates that skin color could not possibly affect anyone’s vitamin D3 levels, and low vitamin D3 levels arising from skin color differences could not conceivably reduce a person’s odds of surviving COVID-19. Such unspeakable heresy would suggest that Nature herself is politically incorrect, which would mean the PC worldview itself is fatally flawed. Much better to ignore science and all the non-PC life-saving advantages she offers than to change your worldview.

Below, my favorite research scientist, Rhonda Patrick, PhD, answers various questions about COVID-19, including the Vitamin D question (at position 25:06 on the video). She delves into the relevant peer-reviewed scientific literature.

https://www.foundmyfitness.com/episodes/covid-19-episode-1

I should also mention that certain individuals have a condition, probably a genetic SNP (single nucleotide polymorphism), that lowers their vitamin D levels, making it difficult for them to achieve a normal vitamin D level even with D3 supplementation. I know this is real because I have an Asian friend with this trait. So regardless of your skin color, it seems to be entirely worthwhile to have your vitamin D3 level checked, especially now with this lung-attacking virus going around.

Future studies will probably sustain the preliminary data in this post, so be brave and share it with everyone on your email list. You may save someone’s life.

Love and air kisses,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 

 


The Airborne Coronavirus

It’s tough to find non-politicized info on COVID-19 (or anything else).

Here’s a lengthy Rogan interview with Michael Osterholm, an internationally recognized expert on infectious disease epidemiology who seems, as best I can tell, to have no political ax to grind, although he’s mainstream black-and-white on vaccinations.

A few essential points from the above interview:

  1. Since COVID-19 is airborne, transmitted early, and has a short incubation period, it is inconceivable that our efforts to contain it will succeed. “This is like trying to stop the wind.”
  2. Transmission from person to person is highly efficient, like a flu virus. Infected individuals with early symptoms carry a potent viral load in their throats (“ten thousand times what we saw with SARS”) and are highly infectious before they feel ill or develop a cough.
  3. Michael Osterholm “conservatively estimates” that there will be over 480,000 deaths due to this virus in the US over the next three to six months or more. He states that this will be “ten to fifteen times worse than the worst seasonal flu you have ever seen.”
  4. Although people over 60 are at greatest risk of death from this virus, they are now seeing an alarming number of “horrible cases” in the 40s age range in Italy.
  5. Here is a message from a cardiologist at one of the largest hospitals in Italy: “They’re deciding who they have to let die. They aren’t screening the staff anymore because they need all hands on deck… Even if they’re positive (meaning that they’re sick) but they don’t have a severe cough or fever, then they have to work.”
  6. The incubation period is 4 days. This gives the virus a short doubling time.
  7. Loose fitting “surgical masks” and gloves offer very little protection, if any. You need a tight-fitting (airtight) mask capable of filtering viruses.
  8. Dr. Osterholm recommends avoiding “large public spaces” if you are over 55 or have underlying health problems such as obesity or a smoking habit. (Smoking is associated with increased mortality in China). “Limiting your contact is about all you can do.”
  9. “We are not going to have a vaccine any time soon.”
  10. “Kids” are getting infected but are not getting sick. In China, only 2.1% of “cases” are under 19 years of age.
  11. This virus jumped from an animal species to humans, probably in the 3rd week of November 2019. It was not the deliberate or accidental product of a weapons laboratory in China. (Dr. Osterholm claims that his unique background allows him to state this with confidence.)

It’s extremely difficult to interest human beings in preventing disasters. The simple existence of a term like “doomsdayer” is enough to keep most people from believing and acting upon a negative prediction, no matter how strong the science.

Add political or other pseudo-religious bias and the hyper-confident voice of a reporter (there are no non-political, unbiased reporters), and you have the secondary gain that leads the majority of humanity to slaughter again and again throughout history.

Don’t let the media’s professional “opinion molding” take your life. Whether your favorite political hacks and quacks are calling this thing “the Trump virus” or shouting with false confidence that COVID-19 is a virus that “kills only people over 80,” please plug your ears to all mainstream political judgments on this virus and heed the expert advice of a qualified doctor like Michael Osterholm, PhD.

“Eyes open, no fear. Be safe everyone,”

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 

 


Looking Directly into the Sun

“Learn to place your intellect in the sheath of your awareness rather than in the sac of memory and identification. Once you do, this tremendous instrument can cut its way effortlessly toward the ultimate.” – Sadhguru

The big problem we face as a struggling species is our need to filter data through an inflexible worldview. This process rejects a significant portion of good accurate data thereby hindering us in spiritual growth and scientific advancement.

Worldviews (or cosmic paradigms) become central to our personal identities which we defend with denial, outrage and a false sense of superiority to those who hold conflicting views. The memory of things we’ve been taught by parents and trusted teachers in youth ties us to rigidity, denial and the rejection of useful knowledge.

And yet many of us seem convinced that spiritual growth and scientific advancement fully demand a rigid, data-filtering worldview.

For instance, theophobia has the geological community in a headlock preventing publication of anything supporting the ancient accounts of great floods and fires that nearly erased humanity. This is because lending credence to “holy myths” threatens paradigm identity and is therefore emotionally intolerable to most geologists.

For them to give in and admit these “myths” were basically accurate would feel something like an Orthodox Jew eating pork, a Muslim drawing Mohamad, or a Christian doubting Jesus’ historical existence.

So the evidence of periodic geological cataclysms in Earth’s history has been downplayed for generations, but unfortunately it’s looking like our “experts” have made a grievous error in protecting their theophobia with the paradigm of geologic gradualism.

There’s good scientific evidence that the Sun is a periodic nova or “micro-nova,” that coronal mass ejection material from the Sun nearly wiped out our species about twelve thousand years ago.

The perceived problem with this data set is not merely that it supports humanity’s ancient “mythical” records, but that it is inherently frightening to scientists because those few who look into it also find evidence that a similar geological catastrophe may happen within our lifetimes.

The more practical problem with this data is that scientists can’t get funding for research that gives an inch of ground to the “crazy” people who believe in God or any historic veracity of ancient human records.

But it’s not just mainstream scientists whose worldviews prevent an objective look at this. Many Christians have a worldview that doesn’t allow the possibility of a return of global flooding or any other global catastrophe because the “inerrant” scriptures include a rainbow with a promise that God will never drown us again.

Sadguru is wrong in thinking that sleeping only a few hours a night is healthier for everyone than sleeping 8 or 9 hours a night, but the man is divinely inspired when he suggests letting your intellect experience the “sheath of your awareness” rather than “the sack of memory and identification.”

If you want to give his advice a whirl and transcend your worldview for a moment with some controversial but important scientific data and theory, here’s a video that could truly save our entire species from the next major periodic sun eruption…

The narrator and creator of this video is Ben Davidson. Here’s his website. Here’s his beautiful family.

“Look deep into nature and then you will understand everything better.” – Albert Einstein

Your pal,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Synthetic Life – a Minority Report

 

“Dr. Tour is one of the world’s top synthetic organic chemists. He has authored 680 scientific publications and holds more than 120 patents. In 2014, Thomson Reuters named him one of “The World’s Most Influential Scientific Minds,” and in 2018 Clarivate Analytics recognized him as one of the world’s most highly cited researchers. Tour is also fearless. He joined more than a thousand other scientists in signing the “Scientific Dissent from Darwinism.” More recently, he has become a thorn in the side of the origin of life research community, offering blunt assessments of the current state of origin of life research.”

 

When kids from the vanishingly rare religious families of the US go away to college, they need something to save them from being sucked over the emotional falls of determinism, materialism, Neo-Darwinism and nihilism. Professors pound these untestable philosophic worldviews into their students’ heads as if they were facts of “settled science.”

This shocking video lecture could help spiritual kids resist the standardized brainwashing of our era. Please forward it to the young people you know.

Cheers,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


“East-German Reporting Style on Campus”

It’s my opinion that US politics is a fraudulent brainwashing machine owned and run by six US corporations who control the mainstream media (both sides) and make money using group hatred, so I don’t give political views in public and try not to care about the window dressings, i.e., which set of untrustworthy politicians wins.

Ironically, this approach is black-and-white thinking on my part, fueled by my unbalanced desire to avoid confrontation. Nevertheless, pursuing this flawed view is the lessor of two evils for me. I can either mind meld with the mainstream political hatred or reject the whole mess as a bogus nightmare not worth the exasperation. I maintain that we simply cannot identify accurate political data with any certainty. It’s not possible.

More mature people might partake in mainstream politics without the enveloping disgust, loathing and outrage. I salute you all if such saints really exist.

But I do publically wonder how so many of us believe that winning the political war is more valuable that freedom of speech.

Here’s an academic, Jonathan Haidt, who has a vivid explanation, though he talks like he’s negotiating with a suicide bomber. It’s a fear-based reaction that makes perfect sense once he describes his academic work environment

After hearing how uniquely harmful social media is to middle school children, and being a kid at heart, I decided to turn off my “like” buttons. “Likes” give me a dopamine rush that influences the way I write on the topics I’m exploring. It’s subtle but powerful. I don’t want to censor myself by writing for “likes.”

I appreciate all the “likes” you’ve given me over the years. And I “like,” no, I LOVE your artwork, your writings, your poetry, and the photography you post. I fully intend to keep clicking your “like” buttons and commenting on your blogs as always, but as you might expect, with 7,082 followers, I can take in only an insignificant fraction of the remarkable blog posts you create each week.

Just know that I love your work.

My comment section will remain open below. If you know a joke, please share it. We’re all too serious these days.

Here’s something Eddie Murphy (Edward Regan Murphy) told the kids in his audience way back in the 1980s. (This isn’t word-for-word.)

A bear and a rabbit were taking a dump together in the woods. The bear said to the rabbit, “Does cr#p stick to your fur?” The rabbit said, “no.” So the bear picked the rabbit up and wiped his butt with it.

Hmm. Somehow that was hilarious when Eddie Murphy told it. “It’s all in the delivery,” my son used to tell me.

Cheers,

Talmage


An Immunization Against Lethal Emotional Suffering

Among her many impressive achievements, Lucy Hone, PhD, is an academic researcher studying resilience science.

Not long ago, she suffered the most devastating personal loss a parent can imagine.

Below you can watch Dr. Hone’s brief and invaluable TEDx talk that offers scientific tactics and her own living example of how to become antifragile (not merely resilient) to the inevitable ordeal of inner suffering that results from a life-changing tragedy.

Every person on Earth should listen to her. Eventually we will all need to know and practice what she reveals here.

Assuming you’ve listened to her speech now (if you haven’t, please listen to it when you have time), can you recall Lucy Hone’s three scientific strategies for dealing with suffering?

This summary doesn’t do justice, but it should help transfer this vital information from your short-term memory into your long-term knowledge base. Here are the three things to remember…

  1. Adversity doesn’t discriminate. “But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons [and daughters] of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.” – The Nazarene. Lucy says that we need to face and accept the fact that unspeakably horrendous things naturally happen to everyone. Having this realistic knowledge immunizes you against the devastating feeling that you’ve been treated unfairly by God (or by random fate) when your time arrives to suffer. “Resilient people get that ‘shit happens.’ They know that suffering is part of life.” – Lucy Hone, PhD
  2. Accept the good. With reference to the future, develop a habit of differentiating the things you can change from the things you can’t change. Then choose to focus on things you can change. Choose not to dwell on things you cannot change, but instead, try to accept them as unchangeable. Or at least open yourself to the concept and the feeling of accepting unchangeable negatives rather than battling them in rumination. Regarding the past, deliberately focus on things you can be thankful for, no matter how small they may seem when compared to your immense loss. “Resilient people are really good at choosing carefully where they select their attention. They have a habit of realistically appraising situations and typically managing to focus on the things they can change, and somehow accepting the things that they can’t. This is a vital, learnable skill…. Being able to also focus your attention to the good has been shown by science to also be a powerful strategy. … Make an intentional, deliberate, ongoing effort to tune in to what’s good in your world.” – Lucy Hone, PhD
  3. Become your own north-star GPS. “Resilient people ask themselves, ‘Is what I’m doing helping or harming me?’ … This was my go-to question after the girls died. I would ask it again and again. … This one strategy has prompted more positive feedback than any other. Asking yourself whether what you’re doing, the way you’re thinking, the way you’re acting is helping or harming you puts you back in the driver’s seat. It gives you some control of your decision making.” – Lucy Hone, PhD

It’s interesting to note that Lucy trained under Martin Seligman, the eminent psychologist who, among other achievements, brought us the concept of learned helplessness.

Like the experimental animals who were taught that nothing they could do would ever make a difference to their sufferings in the laboratory, young people in the Western educational systems are taught (as a corollary to the pseudoscience of “scientific” materialism) that they have no free will. This implies that humans are “scientifically” helpless in the face of suffering. Everything is predetermined in the force-fed academic doctrine. This brainwashing of young minds promotes learned helplessness as the integral truth of the human condition.

Everyone knows firsthand that suffering is real, but our schools insist that free will is a false illusion. All we can do is react in a predictable and inevitable way with no personal control, only a cruel illusion of agency.

And yet the cutting-edge science of resilience to human suffering calls for choices, the very use of the free will that we’re told does not exist. The ability we innately know we possess, to choose constructively and act upon our decisions, is stripped from the worldviews of young people in today’s schools. This is abuse, carried out by dedicated, well-meaning people who are unable or unwilling to recognize their mistake, their massive, lethally toxic mistake…

With well over 40,000 people committing suicide each year in the US alone, it’s beyond the time for each of us to insist that tax-funded schools allow our sons and daughters to learn at least one alternative paradigm to “scientific” materialism. And to learn about it in an atmosphere that doesn’t ridicule it the way UFO’s are ridiculed in academia. Preferably students might hear of something congruent with the human experience… 

For instance, they might be taught by example to respect rather than detest the theory that we live in a meaningful Universe where information, consciousness and intelligence are as foundational to the list of nature’s building blocks as matter and energy, if not more fundamental and irreducible.

If we are to take seriously the science of resilience, then believing in free will is a matter of mental health and coping with adversity.

Share these ideas and this post with every young person you know. Give them hope and some tools to survive the suffering and depression that comes to virtually everyone nowadays.

Cheers,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


“Some secret too terrible to be told…”

I’m at a loss to grasp why this story isn’t front-page news. The Navy has now officially admitted that the UFO/ “UAP” phenomenon is a genuine mystery and the famous videos are not a hoax or explainable by any traditional means.

Here’s a mainstream TV report on the Navy’s official statement…

Here’s a link to the NBC News report from yesterday (9/18/19):

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/navy-confirms-videos-did-capture-ufo-sightings-it-calls-them-n1056201

Notice that the closing lines of this mainstream article seek to shepherd public opinion toward status quo denial:

“Shostak, a regular contributor to NBC News MACH, said in an email, “Now I think if the answer were easy, that would be known by now. But when I look at these things I see no reason to consider them good evidence for ‘alien visitation,’ which is what the public likes to think they are.”

“He said that in some reported sightings of unidentified flying objects other explanations, like birds, seem plausible.”

If you’ve been keeping up with the Navy’s UFO sightings since 2017, you know exactly how irrelevant and beyond absurd that last sentence is. And yet these are professional journalists. Their deliberate ignorance is mindboggling.

If you haven’t kept up with all this UFO news, here’s a link to several relevant videos:

https://duckduckgo.com/?q=U.S.+NAVY+OFFICIAL+CONFIRMS+NIMITZ+U.F.O.+SIGHTINGS&atb=v182-1&pn=1&iax=videos&ia=videos

Among them is this video. If you ignore the melodramatic delivery of the narrator, it’s the best video for hearing what the witnesses have to say and how they say it…

Some experts tell us there’s reason to think the most advanced human space technology has now slipped not only out of the hands of elected US officials but also out of the control of covert US groups such as the “dark” or unacknowledged projects of the Department Of Defence. The story is, years ago several subdivisions of the DOD placed our most advanced anti-gravity technology into the hands of private corporations to move it beyond legal discoverability by our elected officials whom they distrusted.

That would be understandable. Anyone would be nieve to trust those people with a box of plastic forks.

If the story is true, maybe all we’re dealing with here are global corporations and their proprietary technology. I hope that’s the case, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the story or a similar conspiracy theory accounts for a large part of the UFO phenomena.

But I doubt it’s the whole truth. I’m keeping my mind open to the possibility of an alien component. It seems prudent at this point.

And I hope Nick Pope’s fears of “some secret too terrible to be told” are not justified.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Government-controlled Disclosure of UFO’s

Pretty much no one clicks on a blog’s videos, but all this newer stuff on UFO’s (since 2017) coming to us from former DOD employees and fighter pilots is turning the public’s heads. Even the geniuses on mainstream news are no longer laughing.

If you’re not up to date on this and don’t find UFO’s boring, then this video might seem interesting. If you’re a closet UFO buff like I am, you probably have complex suspicions about this long-awaited “disclosure.”

It’s becoming impossible for professional skeptics to maintain credibility insisting that all UFO’s are banal, bogus, or just plain Venus on a clear night.

But if we buy into the quasi-governmental narrative that, “gee, they are real,” then what exactly are they?

At the moment, the government’s people, most of them retired but still sworn to some level of DOD secrecy, are saying they don’t know what UFO’s are, but at the same time they’re hinting that they actually do. They say things to the effect that, “If we admit we think they’re Aliens, the public will write us off the way they’ve rejected the UFO fringe community.”

The government-associated team has made it clear that they want no part of the fringe’s mix of careful UFO researchers, imposters, posers, alleged victims, and salivating fanatics. Keeping their distance from us is understandable since anything they say is negatively interpreted by one element of the UFO fringe or another, myself included in a moment.

Nevertheless, this overall “narcissism of small differences” among the believers has become the strangest piece of irony I’ve ever seen. I would have thought the UFO fringe would rejoice to see their “normal” skeptical family members no longer able to think of them as easily influenced and lacking healthy discretion.

Loving conspiracy theories like any self-respecting science fiction writer, I can’t help speculating that some of these new UFO people, maybe a guy like Christopher Mellon, a former US Secretary of Defence, may have a slick endgame on the horizon.

Maybe not him, but someone near this level might want to appear to be pushing the government to confess that all this UFO stuff is real, but…

It’s all legitimate covert defence work.

“Doggone it, you caught us in the act, but we’re not at liberty to talk about sensitive US defense technology.”

End of disclosure. Forget the entire breadth and depth of actual UFO history and its uncomfortable implications. Forget people like Richard Dolan, the brilliant UFO historian. Forget Paul Hellyer, the former Minister of Canadian Defense.

But if there is a trillion-dollar covert conspiracy reverse engineering downed UFO’s, as most of us in the fringe suspect, then one way to avoid disaster and maintain secrecy despite all these US fighter pilots coming forward, would be to reveal low resolution clips of the visual aspects of UFO’s to the public saying it’s nothing more than DOD technology that must be kept secret.

“We learned our lesson the hard way with the spread of nukes after WWII.”

Who knows? None of us following the public UFO fringe can know for sure. Though, as one of my pathology mentors said regarding the medical literature, the fewer data points available, the more emotionally invested people become, and the more confidently they argue.

But until two US Presidents (one from each of our preferred political football teams) tells us that genuine UFO’s are all simply covert US technology, let’s consider some juicier options just for fun and completeness’ sake…

UFO’s might also represent:

  1. A covert breakaway culture that began inside the US government and became global and independent.
  2. Another country that’s leapfrogged US technology.
  3. An ancient civilization of humans that survived the Younger-Dryas event and lives somewhere in hiding, perhaps no longer entirely on Earth.
  4. Laser holographic technology producing visual images that are somehow detectable on the Navy’s advanced radar systems.
  5. Flesh and blood (or at least physical) aliens from another planet, sometimes phase-shifted and ethereal, let’s say.
  6. “Aliens” who are not physical beings but something akin to traditional spirits, angels, demons, jinns or other seemingly nonmaterial intelligent beings.
  7. A bit of our synthetic reality that’s “manifested,” either by some of us within this detailed “simulation” or by Someone from beyond it (assuming we do live in a simulation, which seems unprovable but worth consideration).
  8. All of the above (my favorite).

What have I left out? I think the classic skeptic’s explanations of UFO’s are unrealistic nowadays. Swamp gas and weather balloons are so last-week.

Right quick, I need to say that Richard Dolan, the most level-headed and objective UFO investigator in the field, has heavily influenced and informed my views on this stuff. (I have no affiliation with Richard or his beautiful wife, Tracey, but I’m a big fan. I trust they won’t mind me sharing one of their public internet pictures at the top of this post.)

If there’s another UFO expert you feel is in Richard Dolan’s league, please mention her or him below so I can adjust my ignorance. Thanks!

Your thoughts are welcome below. Keep the sarcasm hilarious, please.

Cheers,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Share this post with your skeptical friends, fence-sitters and true believers.


Nonlocal Love on Earth

When John Lennon approached the end of, “All You Need Is Love,” he burst into the chorus of another great Beatles song, “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

When I heard this years ago, it seemed to derail his message of humanity’s desperate need of a higher love.

We carefully distinguish between romantic love and all the other loves, but could this be inaccurate or even misguided?

How might things look from the perspective of The Cosmic DNA Coder?

Imagine he’s putting together a new reality, a “simulation” where people can go to learn to love in an environment where anger, fear, pain and hunger make it difficult.

If love requires a minimum of two, he might divide the players into males and females, a novelty in his realm, no doubt. He invents procreation with a physical and emotional climax of love that begins gestation, allowing another player to enter the Love-Challenge environment.

In the Challenge, some individuals become technically advanced and tamper with the original DNA codes, splicing amalgamations such as the duck-billed platypus, and wreaking havoc on God’s ideal coding for procreation through love. Loveless perversions spring forth, but love’s key elements survive on some planets.

In these lucky worlds, falling into romantic love remains the most powerful, meaningful and ubiquitous form of love, rivaling even the love of parents for their children and grandchildren.

On the luckiest of planets like Earth, the distinction between platonic and romantic love begins to seem arbitrary. Couples grow old, procreation leaves the picture, and yet love continues to grow and deepen.

Despite the Earthling’s lifelong struggle for food and shelter, some of them adopt other species and discover what they believe is the purest form of platonic love.

God smiles with interest and appreciates even their dreams…

Last night I awoke from a recurring nightmare. I had lost Halo, my little black labrador retriever while the rest of our family was on vacation.

The loss of my gentle little dog was shattering. I imagined her shivering alone, hungry and confused in a dog shelter awaiting a death sentence and wondering what in the world she could have done wrong to make Daddy leave her.

I didn’t know where I’d lost her or how. I had only vague recollections of taking her with me, but where? It seemed I was losing my memory like both of my parents did years ago.

I said something like a prayer, but not to God. It was to Halo, trying to reach her through the ether and tell her I still loved her. I asked her to forgive me for being such a fool and losing track of her. I said I was so, so sorry and cried for her forgiveness until the anguish woke me up.

When my eyes popped open, I knew she was OK. I remembered putting her to bed that night and playing in the backyard with her and two of my grandkids that afternoon.

The flood of relief was beyond wonderful! I smiled at the darkness in the room and thanked God, remembering a time years ago when a similar dream about my son had shaken me to the core.

Eventually I got back to sleep, knowing that one of the most loving beings I’ve ever met was safely sleeping downstairs on her little bed with the brand new Naugahyde cover Sandi finished sewing onto it that afternoon.

And that’s platonic love, not romantic, not parental? Does love really need any qualifiers?

In God’s eyes, I doubt there’s a black-and-white distinction between romantic love and all the other forms we think we’ve identified. In my heart they all feel equally transcendent and sacred.

I wonder if John Lennon saw beyond the distinctions we make in the way we love.

“Because she loves you.
And you know that can’t be bad.”

Nonlocal love,

Talmage


Why are we here?

Many years ago, Neil Young wrote something profound and worrisome, “Only love can break your heart.”

But just this morning Ellie, my granddaughter asked, “Why are we here?”

Auntie Teri laughed and said, “That’s the great philosophical question that everyone wants an answer to.”

I blurted out, “I can tell you why we’re here. It’s so we can learn…”

But I hesitated as thoughts rushed through my head. Things like, “We’re here to find out what it’s like to live in a place where God isn’t physically present to influence us… so we can see who we really are. Our souls are from another realm called Reality. Life in this Universe is an E8 simulation that Johanna calls 229 H Street. God is The Great Surfer who lives outside of space and time and misses us when we’re away from home…”

My words, “So we can learn…” hung awkwardly in the air. I was starting to realize I had nothing appropriate to say to someone her age.

Until she rescued me and finished my sentence…

“to love?” She made it look and sound like a genuine question, but it felt to me like an angel’s solemn message.

I said, “Yes,” and grinned the biggest ever, realizing that she knows more about life than I do.

“We’re here to learn to love,” I said firmly, pretending that “love” was the word I was searching for all along.

“For only love can break your heart. What if your world should fall apart?”

No, Neil Young, your world won’t fall apart. Hang tough. Ellie says the whole reason we’re here is to learn to love. And she should know, she’s five years old.

Your pal, Talmage


Stardust and Energy Alone – finally on YouTube

I read another short story on YouTube. It’s an old one that I wrote and posted here in 2017.

It’s kind of sad, so if you’re depressed, please don’t listen to it until you’re feeling way better. Which will be soon, I hope.

It’s called, Stardust and Energy Alone.

 

I’m thinking from now on I should focus only on the stories, not the video clips.

Stringing together video clips that follow a story to any vague degree is a time-consuming, tedious process that probably distracts the viewers from visualizing the story in their minds, the Earth’s high-tech simulators.

I may eventually take drone videos of local rivers and use those for background on YouTube. I’ve got a cheap learner-drone coming in the mail, so we’ll see. Hope it works out because I need more natural vitamin D3. Actually, I think there’s more health-related energy coming from sunshine than just the D3 conversion — assuming a person doesn’t over-do it and age their skin or worse.

I’m not sure if YouTube viewers would want the words scrolling across the video as I read. I could start doing that, I guess.

Any thoughts?

Tanks, pal,

Talmage

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash


Natural Zombie Bliss – Your Deeper Costs Explored…

John Lennon wrote most of the world’s greatest songs, you can’t change my mind on this. I was eight years old when the Beatles landed in the US.

One of John’s eternal messages starts like this…

Turn off your mind, relax and float down stream.

It is not dying. It is not dying.”

Just as the Genesis serpent was sort of right and wrong when it told Eve, “You won’t die,” John Lennon was both right and wrong about turning off the mind and not dying.

He was right that we’d all do well to turn off our inner critics sometimes and rise above the fears that bind us.

Turning off the inner voice allows the silent parts of the mind to shine. For me, this has become a major goal of meditation: waking up my subconscious gifts by temporarily shutting up inside.

The exercise lets the silent parts of my mind arrange things wordlessly and efficiently, making intuitive and logical connections that would take way more time in the verbal realm. Sometimes, in fact, it’s like a message blinks into my head from beyond like the proverbial “download.” Who knows what this is, really? I don’t.

The wise and occasionally depressed King Solomon wrote, “For everything there is a season… a time to keep silence and a time to speak.”

This passage advocates balance, not black-and-white labeling. I like that.

With a little reflection, it’s clearly not in our best interests to always keep a silent mind, focusing only on what the hands and eyes are doing in the present moment.

If you’re depressed, of course you must learn to “live in the present moment,” shutting off that blasted verbal and visual habit of going over past hurts, fights, losses and embarrassments, as well as future worst-case scenarios. This kind of rumination will drown you unless you put in the time and effort to learn inner silence and the skill of stopping and diverting inner “tapes” when they turn self-destructive. Everyone knows this.

But if you’re not depressed, your inner voice can help you with all sorts of nice things.

Like when you’re washing your hair in the shower and your mind wanders. Some of the best stories come directly from heaven to Earth through shower nozzles. Ask any writer.

Some of my blog posts spring into my head in nearly final form while I’m sitting on the floor with my legs crossed planning to focus only on conscious, deliberate breathing.

Just as some academics are misguided in thinking that maleness is inherently evil, so some gurus are confused into believing that inner chatter is inherently negative.

It’s understandable. I’ll admit that my dog, Halo, avoids inner monologue assiduously and she’s the happiest person alive, but still, some of the spiritual and psychological advice I read regarding the inner voice can’t possibly apply to humans.

Not only do they imply that the inner voice is an unqualified negative to be abandoned for the eternal superficial concrete present moment, they also have the obtuseness to equate the inner voice with the total mind.

I’m sorry, but some of these experts are like a mouse with its head stuck in a coke bottle. Myopic but enjoying the flavor.

The inner voice is just a tiny part of the mind, gurus. Come on, the non-verbal parts are the iceberg below the surface. Things like:

1. Free will (the non-physical core).
2. Conscience (molded by the environment but innately sensing fairness).
4. Silent analysis of math, physics and ecosystems.
5. Autonomic and deliberate breathing.
6. Circadian timing of the body’s organ systems.
7. Consciously moving body parts.
9. Doing body-scan meditation.
11. Intuitive self-preservation (for instance, sensing that the guy leading your meditation group is more of a crooked cult leader than a loving mentor.)

That last one is significant to trusting souls like me…

I took a $2,000 online meditation class a few years back from a PhD claiming to be doing breakthrough scientific investigation, the goal of which was ongoing bliss. His success rate was through the roof, he said. And I was “special” for even reading his email ads. Gee.

In retrospect, some of the participants did find bliss by the halfway point. But I wouldn’t call it enlightenment because there were side effects not mentioned until after the money changed hands. After that, he discussed the side effects as if they were trifles and “perfectly normal,” a phrase he repeated often over the weeks as students shared their growing concerns.

Tell me, are these side effects normal?

1. Memory problems.
2. Loss of organizational skills to the point where “enlightened” people from the prior group had to use lists to keep track of simple everyday tasks.
3. Diminished interest in fiction of all types.
4. Loss of interest in other people’s lives and stories. “You’ll have to fake interest.”
5. The showstopper: those who achieve the highest level of ongoing enlightenment would experience the complete loss of emotion, including love.

Would a scientist fail to mention these details until after he had your money? I doubt it, but maybe the pop business literature of the 1980’s was right — suckers deserve to be fleeced. I doubt anyone reading this believes such Darwinian dogma, but who knows?

To be fair, I did sign many pages of legal docs that I didn’t read. The side effects of eternal bliss might have been listed there in the fine print, but it wouldn’t have made any difference because the legal papers were sent to us only after the good doctor had stashed our cash safely in his account.

Anyway, this next part is interesting. During the classes, there were always questions from the students about how one or another of the PhD’s ideas could be integrated into the concepts of other famous gurus.

The doctor’s answer? If you want bliss, such questions miss the point: Forsake all thinking and do the exercises.

“The mind,” he said, would only interfere with the highest possible human goal: obtaining a permanent blissful state of enlightenment. He had his own proprietary words for enlightenment, of course. But the mind must be turned off during this bliss-through-meditation process. We were building new neural pathways, after all. We needed only to stop thinking critically and follow his instructions to the letter.

And so I lay on my back in my bedroom with electrodes on my chest doing endless varieties of body-scanning type meditation, two hours and more each day for eight weeks. Plus online small group meetings and other assignments.

About that time (which was halfway through the course) one of the people in my subgroup on Google Hangouts reported serious memory problems that were getting worse.

Both of my parents died with significant dementia, as you may recall from other posts, so I have zero tolerance for memory loss. And now the “perfectly normal” side effects of this man’s bliss scheme appeared to be real.

I left the program quietly.

He later kicked me out of his Facebook group when, in response to his own request for feedback on how to improve the success rate, I suggested he might in effect pre-screen the participants by telling them the potential side effects of success before taking their money.

This was to imply that a PhD should act like a scientist not a drug dealer. I wish I’d said it that way.

Bottom line, I would never trade my memory, my love for fiction, or my interest in other people’s lives for ongoing bliss.

And I certainly wouldn’t risk my ability to love people. Not for anything. One day when I was a new Christian in a Church-run High School I experienced a sense of God’s love flowing through me to the other students. It was weird, probably the most joyful and meaningful experience of my life. 

“Love is all and love is everyone. It is knowing, it is knowing.” – John Lennon

John was totally right about that. I’ll never give up hope of someday revisiting that feeling. I’d never trade the faintest hope of agape love for an emotionless, loveless life of ongoing zombie bliss. “No tanks, uh?”

Although self-love runs contrary to my upbringing, I also wouldn’t want to lose the ability to love myself, even if it feels wrong to say so — and it does. (Some people of my generation were taught that self love indicates there’s something terribly wrong with you. It sounds bizarre, I know, but “correct” thinking was 180 degrees different back then.)

I’m telling you all this to illustrate the danger and stupidity of turning off your mind’s critical thinking and logical objective analysis for the bliss offered by a guru or “bliss researcher.” Not that they’re all the same. I really don’t know. But in some cases, the bliss is real and the cost is your empathy and love. I suspect these methods rewire the circuitry of mirror neurons. 

At any rate, the DNA Code Writer would not have gone to all the trouble of coding for the human brain and its transcendent access to free will if the ultimate purpose of humanity was to turn off the whole cognitive process for a flat-affect bliss that kills empathy like an opiate addiction.

I’d guess the severely depressed and suicidal among us might be tempted to trade almost anything for bliss. I don’t blame or shame them for it. Major depression is hell on Earth, often fatal. Don’t cast the first stone.

But I’m talking about seeking a higher spiritual path when your life is pretty much OK.

In that context, it’s unhealthy, stupid and dangerous to shut off your mind. All money hungry cult leaders demand that you stop thinking critically and fall in line. Usually they do it more subtly and artfully than my PhD friend with his little ongoing-bliss scam.

So be intelligently careful and balanced.  If you’re depressed, use inner-silence meditation to deal with rumination. If you’re fine and seeking a more spiritual life, try inner-silence, slow breathing and yoga to discover the gap between your free-willed self and the brain-fixed aspects of your mind and body. Use your silent techniques to connect with your highly efficient subconscious creative talents. And probably I’ll meet you in a non-physical realm of agape love someday. Stranger things happen.

Namaste,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 


The Elephant-Sized Flaw in Large Clinical Trials

Imagine you’re like me and have a genetic variation in your D2 Dopamine receptor code which makes some aspects of “executive functioning” difficult. (I was always the last one to finish my lab work in Chemistry, Biochemistry, and General Physics — though I got the highest final score in Physics Lab, so I’m not claiming to be stupid.)

Anyway, you’ve got this D2 challenge in your brain, you do some reading and discover that organic velvet bean powder has L-dopa that might help you with things like working faster through cookbook recipes.

You buy some velvet bean powder, try it and, wow, you’re not only more efficient, your mood improves.

You should feel ecstatic, right?

But no, you’re vaguely suspicious because you’re a medical doctor. Professors and attendings have warned you that anecdotal evidence is worthless, and the placebo effect is ready and waiting to make a fool of you. 

To avoid embarrassment, you decide you need a double-blinded, prospective clinical trial with a large number of test subjects and proper randomization. Anything less would be rubbish.

Fortunately, this is not a problem. You’re also a multi-billionaire who can fund a complete drug trial.

Of course, you didn’t get rich by ignoring opportunity. You plan to make money with these velvet beans. 

Knowing that your problem starts with genetic D2 variation, common sense tells you to study a few thousand people who have the same genetic makeup.

But what about your target buyer? A businessperson looks there first.

From that perspective, you want the FDA approval to apply to as many people as possible so you can hand out genetically modified velvet bean pills to the broader public and make more money.

You therefore choose the typical mainstream experimental design: Thousands of unselected participants taken in randomly and then randomized and blinded into trial and control groups. You’ll also blind the people administering the bean pills and placebos so no one can fault your study.

Ten years and 1.2 billion dollars later, the trial ends and the stats come back from the math geeks, those rare professionals who honestly understands statistics and can manipulate them dishonestly.

Despite their efforts, they bring you bad news. There is no statistical evidence that your patented velvet bean extract improves executive functioning or mood.

Rats!

You go home and glare at your dog, then apologize with an organic carrot.

If you publish the paper, the entire world of mainstream MD’s, those smart women and men who don’t read the scientific literature or think for themselves because they’re too busy and frightened of lawsuits – those dedicated, exhausted people will hear from their educators, the drug reps, that velvet beans are rubbish. “This is just another example of the functional medicine quacks peddling snake oil.”

But you take organic velvet bean powder every day, it’s made a real difference. In the kitchen now, you’re turning out Molten Lava Cakes faster than the famous TV chefs. You feel more grounded and calm, too.

What should you do?

It’s obvious, isn’t it? Common sense tells you to go back and do a clinical trial using people with the D2 receptor issue, testing the organic velvet bean powder that works for you, not the GMO stuff your lab cooked up for megabucks.

Unfortunately, this common-sense approach rarely if ever happens in the real world. Negative studies like this are routinely published, and the mainstream fails to see the elephant-sized flaw in their assumptions: the human population is vastly more diverse than previously known at the genetic and biochemical level.

Genetic diversity is relevant to every branch of medicine because single nucleotide polymorphisms (genetic SNPs), like the one that affects my D2 receptors, create a huge diversity in disease susceptibility at the root-cause level, as well as a myriad of diversity in personal strengths and weaknesses within every system of the body.

From the central nervous system to the skin, genetic SNPs are the rule, not the exception. And science has hardly begun to uncover them all or understand their complex interplay across systems.

I have another common genetic SNP that reduces my ability to “detoxify” caffeine by about 60%.

With this knowledge, I’ve lowered my caffeine intake from several double mochas a day (at the VA Med Center years ago), to two cups of green tea per day. This reversed an unbearable sensation of vascular congestion in my legs. (n=1)

I also have a SNP that makes me inefficient at converting beta-carotene to vitamin A, a few SNPs that increase my need of several B vitamins for adequate methylation to keep my homocysteine levels down, and numerous others that I won’t bore you with. But despite all my SNPs, I’m still quite healthy for a 63-year-old man.

The thing is, genetic SNPs are so common, you yourself almost certainly have at least one, more likely a handful. So it’s irrational for researchers to lump you into a huge unselected “normal” population when they’re testing something. And it’s misinformed and lazy for MD’s, however busy they are, to ignore your SNPs and follow cookbook-official protocols when treating you. They need to read more broadly and act with integrity even if it costs them.

Genetic diversity is why functional medicine, imperfect as it is, will become central to mainstream medical care someday. The establishment will change the name from functional medicine to something they haven’t already disparaged.

Currently, they say functional medicine is not evidence-based. In some ways that’s true.

But when it comes to reversing chronic disease rather than just controlling its progression, functional medicine is more evidence-based than mainstream medicine because it uses personal genetic data that the mainstream ignores.

Moreover, it understands the elephant-sized flaw in the mainstream’s large clinical debunking trials. 

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Photo by Rafael on Unsplash


Science Morphed into a Spiritual Bully

“Remember how electrical currents and ‘unseen waves’ were laughed at? The knowledge about man is still in its infancy.” – Albert Einstein.

Slow deep breathing shunts blood to the prefrontal cortex and the subjacent pleasure center on the left. Science can tell us this much, but it cannot detect the non-physical field of free will interfacing with the brain.

When science leaps in faith beyond its self-imposed physical limitations and denies the existence of free will and all else non-physical, it is like a man who has refused to open his eyes since birth, declaring now that all vision is an illusion. He, being superior to the uneducated in intellect, insight, courage and integrity, stands alone as willing to face the difficult and oppressive truth that human vision is a false, meaningless illusion.

Science must learn to admit the obvious: it has chosen materialism, to be blind to the non-physical realm and all evidence of its existence, including the most obvious, free will.

While this choice persists, science cannot claim to be informed about the realm it ignores, much less pose as an infallible anti-spiritual authority in Western textbooks and classrooms.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


The Iceman Fixed My Headaches!

The Wim Hof method of life improvement through hyperventilation, breath holding and cold exposure has gone mildly viral, but until I googled “Wim Hof and headaches,” I thought I would be the first to mention a headache connection.

Mr. Hof is no joke, by the way, though he comes across as happier and more enthusiastic than our jaundiced society allows. For this, some call him crazy.

He’s not.

But he’s not above reproach, either. Who is? He makes a few over-the-top claims. For instance, he’s made medical claims that jerk the black-and-white chains of professional skeptics whose logic casts out the baby with the ice water at the slightest provocation.

But many scientists, journal gatekeepers, and healthcare providers depend on the “incurable” adjective. And they’re human. Where would they all go if, for instance, type 2 diabetes disappeared along with a few of the most common cancer types? How can anyone expect them to be objective about feeding their children?

I’m afraid I’m not.

So let the skeptics howl while the rest of us avoid their binary thinking. We’d be nuts to write off Wim Hof for simply being as excitable and capable of exaggeration as most of the rest of us.

You probably know he’s earned many world records for things like sitting in ice water for roughly 2 hours and swimming a terrifically long distance under surface ice, once overshooting the exit hole and nearly drowning.

He recalls no fear of dying during the incident and now says he has no baseline fear of death. That’s fascinating and probably important. Who knows?

Under medical supervision, a few brave scientists injected him with toxic bacterial antigens, waited, then drew his blood for analysis. It showed a lack of the expected spike of inflammatory markers. He had no fever and felt no flu-like symptoms.

Wondering if Wim was unique in this ability to suppress inflammatory markers, they had him train a dozen new students for 2 weeks, then tested them.

The students’ bloodwork showed a low inflammatory response compared to controls, and they reported less intense flu-like symptoms.

And as if destiny wanted to remove all suspicion that Wim has “superhuman” talent, the man has an identical twin with no unusual cold tolerance.

Another group of scientists put Wim in an MRI scanner wearing a cold-immersion bodysuit. This was fascinating. They found peculiar activity in his insula and the periaqueductal gray areas of his brain. Also, he had increased glucose metabolism in his intercostal muscles.

I’d like to know if he was panting. I vaguely remember a video clip of him panting in a tub of ice, but I can’t find it now.

It’s safe to say that Wim Hof’s path to “health, strength, and happiness,” has a few credible underpinnings in physiology. And there’s also the “life-changing” effects asserted by his raving students.

Unfortunately, the body is too complex for our hyper-segregated sciences to explain the morphologic, physiologic, biochemical, epigenetic and genetic details of anything much beyond conditions like sickle-cell anemia, but an obvious feature of Wim’s achievements is human antifragility, a counterintuitive response that includes hormesis, the beneficial middle-dose of something toxic or even lethal at higher exposures.

Sulforaphane, for example, is a hormetic found in broccoli seeds and sprouts, produced ostensibly as an irritant to discourage predators from destroying the seeds. When we ingest broccoli sprouts (or seeds) with the right dose of sulforaphane, it activates dormant genes that strengthen us against certain stressors. For all the wholesome details, listen to the research scientist, Rhonda Patrick, PhD, cast a spell on the subject discussing studies that correlate sulforaphane ingestion with reduced incidences of breast and prostate cancer.

Oh dear, I hope the medical thought police don’t revile me for suggesting there’s hope of preventing such lucrative diseases through simple hormesis.

Anyway, in the Wim Hof method, the hormesis comes from hypoxia and cold exposure, either of which might kill you at too high an exposure.

What doesn’t kill us wakes us up, it seems.

Hmm…

Since my first breath-holding ocean dive (with no wetsuit) at Shell Beach, California, age 12, I’ve loved holding my breath — just for the relaxation and clarity of mind it brings. As we know, the mammalian diving response kicks in, shunting blood to the brain, lungs and heart.

What a fortunate setup for anyone living on a water planet, though! Who do I thank?

Later when I took SCUBA, I learned that by hyperventilating before breath-holding, I could stay down longer because huffing and puffing expels carbon dioxide and makes the blood less acidic. This shifts the oxygen dissociation curve to the left, allowing the red blood cells to deliver more of their oxygen to the tissues, giving us the feeling that hyperventilation supersaturates the blood with oxygen. It doesn’t as far as science can so-far determine.

It’s also true that CO2 buildup in the blood provides us with the urge to breathe. That’s why blowing it off in hyperventilation lets you stay down longer before air thirst forces you up for a breath.

This scenario is dangerous, though, because hyperventilation can make you pass out and drown — as can hypoxia.

I urge you not try hyperventilation in the water. Wim Hof says to do it lying down. (Far from a pool or bathtub, I’d add.)

And here’s another caveat: too much hypoxia causes brain damage, depression and dementia. We know this from studying sleep apnea, a common ailment that’s vastly underdiagnosed and contributes to a truckload of human misery. So “moderation in all things” is the faithful heuristic. And for the careful, swimming underwater in the cold (without hyperventilation) wakes up the mind and makes you feel sharp as a tack.

Since life on Earth was intelligently designed, our bodies keep us fully conscious and awake under water because the alternative tends to be fatal. Whoever wrote this planet’s genetic codes must have designed life around water and decided that we would hold our breath and spear cold-water fish during the ice ages. This would have the side effect of providing a diet rich in marine oils to supply DHA to our brains which are predominantly lipid and heavy with DHA, an omega-3 fatty acid.

Periodic ice ages awaken humanity’s epigenetic adaptations to cold, it seems, switching on genes that become dormant during warmer eras. Activating our “cold-shock” genes to produce cold-shock proteins renders us not merely cold-resistant, but antifragile to cold. We don’t merely survive the ice ages, we thrive — mentally, physically, emotionally and probably spiritually.

We’ve all seen clear evidence of this in the ancient megalithic structures on most continents — evidence the mainstream detests because it falls outside their “gradualism” dogma of all history.

Nevertheless, since the Younger-Dryas event ended the last ice age about 11,600 years ago, our species has forgotten the value of God’s latent gift of cold-adaptive epigenetics. Fortunately, Wim Hof and a few scientists are rediscovering it, uncovering what may be a human capacity for broad volitional immune regulation and substantial mood management.

Some of this magic results from the “mammalian diving response.” It’s a well-studied physiologic mechanism that shunts blood to vital organs, as I mentioned. This includes the brain’s center of higher decision making, the prefrontal cortex, which is close to a quasi-pleasure center located just below the left prefrontal region.

It would seem that Earth’s DNA Code Writer has worked to keep us alive, healthy, happy and eating cold-water fish with our broccoli sprouts.

“The God Hypothesis is now a more respected hypothesis than at any time in the last 100 years.” — Frederic Bradford Burnham, PhD.

I haven’t taken the Wim Hof course, as yet, but I’ve watched enough relevant YouTube videos to know the basics, and I’ve been doing an easy version of cold exposure and hyperventilation-with-breath-holding for five months now, several times a week. In my view, Wim Hof is onto something big with the potential to help many of us, not just my fellow headache sufferers. But let’s be careful not to over-do the hypoxia aspect.

Although I’m not quite as predisposed to euphoria now as when I was younger, I do feel exhilarated after a cold shower, and mentally sharp with temporary mood elevation after the intermittent hyperventilation and hypoxia.

By the way, if you try cold showers, consider my method. I’m careful not to let my subconscious mind learn to hate the whole experience. To me, this principle of catering to the subconscious is a key to sustaining purpose with anything that requires discomfort and ongoing effort.

Here’s how I avoid hating cold shower…

First I step back out of a hot shower, turning the knob all the way cold. Then I put one part of myself into the shower at a time. I stay in the cold spray for seven breaths, step out and warm up for a few breaths then rotate another section of me into the cold.

In the past I’ve tried cold showers by sudden immersion and wound up avoiding the whole process after a few weeks, having never consciously decided to stop. It seems that when anything is judged by the subconscious self to be too uncomfortable, we avoid it reflexively without conscious deliberation. In this way, the subconscious mind makes many decisions about survival. We see this happening with hunger avoidance, cold avoidance, pain avoidance, and the avoidance of believing things that will bring us rejection by our peers and bosses.

There’s good scientific evidence now that cold showers should improve most people’s health and well-being, but the most unexpected thing for me was the headache remedy.

I’ve had headaches all my teen and adult life, originally caused by something in fresh fruit (probably fructose) or in my 30’s by caffeine withdrawal.

Nowadays, my headaches come mainly from eating a little naturally occurring sucrose in my low-carb, circadian diet. (Sucrose or “table sugar” is half fructose, so that may be the primary cause of my headaches now.) Incidentally, the low-carb, circadian diet brings me mental clarity like nothing else ever has.

I’ve had about 12 headaches (all associated with “natural” sucrose intake) since I’ve been doing my easy version of the Wim Hof method. Each headache has vanished after hyperventilation and breath holding, usually after 4 or 5 cycles. That’s 12 our of 12!

Cold exposure doesn’t seem to affect my headaches, though at least one observant writer describe evidence that “cryotherapy” of this sort might prevent migraine headaches by reversing the low norepinephrine levels found in migraine sufferers.

Also, it may be noteworthy that at least one anecdotal report has surfaced of a headache appearing after doing the Wim Hof technique.

One size rarely fits all in biology. Perhaps it’s tangentially relevant that when I’m trying to get rid of a headache, it sometimes feels worse during the hyperventilation phase, diminishes during the breath holding, and then vanishes after several cycles.

My last headache inspired me to write this article. It woke me at 5:30 AM pounding in my skull. It felt like one of the monster headaches that lasts all day and brings nausea.

I did the usual 4 cycles of Wim Hof hyperventilation and breath holding and although the pain diminished, it quickly came back. Not willing to give up and waste the entire day in pain, I kept at it, hyperventilating more and more vigorously and holding my breath longer and longer as my heart chugged in my chest. Finally, after about 12 intense cycles, the pain vanished completely and never came back, not even a dull ache.

Dude! Thank you, Wim Hof.

I speculate that the diving reflex, while shunting blood to my central nervous system as designed, also sent blood flowing swiftly through my scalp where the nerve endings for headache are thought to reside, diluting out vicious chemicals released by mast cells. These chemicals were causing vasoconstriction and pain while signaling for inflammatory cells to rush in.

And because I treated the headache early in its course, I postulate that the inflammatory cells that would have migrated in, set up shop and made the headache a full-day affair never had time to arrive in significant numbers.

Of course, not all headaches have the same pathophysiology. What stops mine might not touch yours, and might even make yours worse. But the Wim Hof Headache Fix is worth a try if you suffer headaches. Just promise me you won’t hyperventilate near water, pass out and drown, OK?

Eyes open, no fear, be safe everyone.

I wish I’d had the Wim Hof Headache Fix when I was a highschool boy lying in bed on Sunday afternoon in my dorm room in throbbing pain, praying to God for relief and assuring him that I understood if this wasn’t the time for a miracle.

And I wish scientists weren’t so quick to shout down everything that moves contrary to their “knowledge.”

Science has historically made quantum leaps by seeking the unexpected, the weird and impossible. It’s tragic that many scientists today express pride in their skepticism. It would serve us all if skepticism were a source of scientific shame.

And it doesn’t matter what’s new, weird, or improperly boxed, my generation of baby-boomer scientists will attack and viciously debunk it, often without studying the work they’re struggling to bury. For example…

The “fringe” evolutionist, Elaine Morgan’s theory that humans evolved from aquatic apes is rejected by mainstream evolutionists for purely emotional reasons, as best I can tell. The phrase, “aquatic apes,” doesn’t sound right to them regardless of the evidence.

The non-materialist research scientist, James Tour, makes an absolutely stunning case for intelligent design in origins theory, only to hear the materialist establishment reject his insight and expertise because they already “know” that life’s origins are mindless and meaningless.

When David Chalmers, a self-proclaimed “materialist at heart,” calls for open minds in the scientific community to consider the “crazy” possibility that consciousness (rather than matter and energy) is fundamental to the cosmos, the mainstream ridicules him because their own untestable assumptions seem patently obvious.

Scientists of the Thunderbolts Project provide evidence that electromagnetism is a more influential force than gravity in the universe, but the mainstream still struggles to ignore them.

Governmental officials team up with fighter pilots to show evidence that UFO’s are real, someone in our skies seems to have breakthrough technology, but academics remain invested in denial of anything beyond their insular, inbred boxes of narrow expertise.

I’m hoping that something will change with the next generation of scientists and thinkers.

Maybe the next team will value objectivity over skepticism.

Science could use their help right now.

Cheers,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Please share this post with friends who suffer from headaches or chronic dogma impairments.


“The bigotry and intolerance of the scientific community…”

“The thing that we all know most directly and most certainly – that is, the existence of ourselves – is ultimately incompatible with materialism.” – Jay Richards, PhD.

When I attended a Christian university in the 1970s (now called La Sierra University) I took an upper division genetics class from Gary Bradley, my hero to this day, who subtly taught the logic of associating a Code Writer with this planet’s unfathomably complex DNA. His scientific insight was ahead of its time and became the intellectual basis of my faith in God.

Although my unbalanced version of Christianity made me a doormat in the dog-eat-dog world of pathology, the realization that God existed and, being smart enough to write genetic code, could easily understand English and undoubtedly hear my thoughts and prayers, improved my life dramatically, giving me a sense of meaning and purpose, despite my habit of not standing up for myself.

Today, more and more brave scientists and thinkers are making the connection between Earth’s code-based life and an intelligent code writer. Random mutation and natural selection don’t stand up to mathematical scrutiny when you know something of the complexity of proteins and the DNA codes that produce them.

But breaking with tradition is dangerous. Modern scientists are like preschoolers fighting to control the rules to the latest game. And they are literally religious fundamentalists who believe that their dogma alone can save the world.

The dogma is materialism: the arrogant, arbitrary, inflexible assumption that nothing could possibly exist besides matter and energy. This is a philosophical assumption that cannot be tested. Hence we should not equate it to science or let it be preached to school children as “the foundation of the scientific method.”

It’s actually the foundation of scientific fundamentalism, a religion that has quietly slipped in and taken rigid control of the minds, careers and publications of the scientific community. Materialism has become a roadblock to the funding of any project that doesn’t knuckle under to the dogma of a random, meaningless, depressing, purely material universe.

But here’s a breathtaking video that brings hope that perhaps today’s young people will rescue science from fundamentalism…

“Oddly, the [scientific] materialist has to deny the existence of the scientist.”

So true, and so ironic.

Back in the day, Gary Bradley openly questioned Neo-Darwinism in class, emphasizing the crucial importance of protecting the genetic diversity, natural order and purity of Earth’s ecosystems from the myopic intrusions of corporate science.

At the time, I did not understand how rare this part of my education was. But now I know that at least in the last fifty years, professors and textbooks have assumed without question that science is materialistic – there can be nothing but matter and energy anywhere, ever. Therefore, the mind is an illusion. Intelligence is an accident of matter, a random epiphenomenon with no meaning or higher purpose.

During their impressionable college years when objectivity writes on a clean slate, very few modern scientists have been allowed to hear both sides of the argument between materialism and intelligent design. Nevertheless, some have heard it now and are coming around, saying that there’s evidence in favor of the concept that we are genuine beings with free will.

Here’s a video touching on some of that evidence…

“No, You’re Not a Robot Made Out of Meat

In college, students are usually taught what to think not how to think. The struggle for most undergraduates is to memorize quickly for multiple-choice tests. We tacitly assume that everything we have crammed into our heads is true, including this western secular worldview disguised as the foundation of science.

But the mainstream answer to this question, “Does the Universe consist of only matter and energy or is there also something more, such as mind, identity, or a Supreme Being?” is not directly testable and therefore not capable of being the foundation of science. It’s a worldview, a philosophy, a spirituality or, if you ask me, a cultish religion that has morphed into today’s academic culture of scientific fundamentalism.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Please share these videos with the young minds you know and love. Give them something to balance the dogmatic materialism that undermines happiness and limits science itself. Give someone a glimpse of the rational universe where depression and suicide are avoidable through the pursuit of a higher, loving purpose.

 

 


Practice Makes Perfect Villains

Fiction writers have an advantage in life that centers on the need to develop a rare skill for objectivity in creating a villain.

Memorable villains need to believe that the harm they’re causing is necessary and right. To accomplish this, their logic must be accessible and human. Villains can’t all be masochists and cardboard psychopaths. Even serial killers can believe they’re doing good work, or at least think the universe is a random place without right and wrong.

Having read, The Talent Code, by Daniel Coyle, I’m all about focused practice. But how do you practice objectivity?

Here’s an idea: select a highly controversial topic for which you have a strong personal bias, and see if you can make yourself realize that a decent, rational person could exist on the opposite side of the argument.

Personally, I might start with the war over vaccinations and this video…

The pediatrician on the left of the screen claims to be in the middle ground of this complex fight, catching hell from both sides. He has written a book he claims is pro-vaccination. He says he has given many vaccinations to his young patients and continues to. Yet because his book promotes temporal spacing of the inoculations, he says pro-vaccine people want his book banned.

The interviewer is fully in the anti-vaccination camp and says he’s devoted his professional life to the cause. Yet he seems supportive of the “pro-vaccine” pediatrician. Something is going on beneath the surface.

The offstage villain in the video is the CDC / mainstream medical community with their rigid vaccine schedules that seem to expand each decade, supporting a commercial industry that cannot be held liable in court for any mishaps or negative side effects of their product. That’s unique, isn’t it? Fortunately, our politicians didn’t grant Monsanto the same deal for their big product, RoundUp, touted as saving countless lives from starvation through the virtues of genetically modified crops that can tolerate glyphosate, the poison in their weed killer.

Since I’m highly disenchanted with mainstream medicine despite my degrees and indoctrination, my challenge here would be to give the “vaccine villain’s” logic and data a fair hearing, both intellectually and emotionally.

To do this, I would need to see the historic cause-of-death stats for all the relevant communicable diseases in the US prior to vaccinations. Then, to sense the emotional viewpoint of this villain, I would need to read historical accounts written by parents whose children suffered and died from the diseases in question.

Having done that, I would probably have enough objectivity to avoid ascribing two-dimensional evil to a pro-vaccination villain of a fictional tale.

But this superficial preparation wouldn’t be enough. I don’t write primarily to entertain. Wish I could, but it doesn’t hold my interest. I need to also teach. Because of this character flaw, I would strive to determine if I was placing my villain on the genuinely misinformed side of the vaccination war.

I’d have to read the relevant medical literature objectively and develop an informed opinion. My present opinion, though strongly biased, is weakly informed despite years of interest in autism. As a scientist and lifelong teacher, I need to know my biases and either abandon them or justify them with data. As a fiction writer not satisfied with entertainment, I have to do the same.

The side effect of realistic villain creation is a blessing to all who write fiction. The process, if we practice it, will force us to become skeptical of real-world character assassination, authoritative emotional claims we can’t verify, and the outraged black-and-white political reporting on all news outlets.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 


Newsflash for Scriptwriters

Sorry, I bet you already know this. I didn’t because I’m not a scriptwriter, but here it is:

If you build your Hollywood script around a “paradigm,” “formula” or “set of rules,” we’re now told that nobody in Hollywood will read it.

I heard this from Corey Mandell on YouTube. He was a successful script writer for 11 years then quit the profession because he disliked the lifestyle and hated how angry it was making him. Now he teaches scriptwriting. Yeah, I know, but watch his video. This guy’s sincere, knowledgeable and authentic.

Although Corey doesn’t spell it out specifically, the “too predictable paradigm” he’s talking about has dominated Hollywood forever and is probably best delineated in Save the Cat, by the late Blake Snyder, God rest his genius soul.

Now Mr. Mandell says Hollywood is looking for “pitch-perfect, authentic” scripts. These do have a structure, but as best I can tell from listening, the new “structure” bends to the story rather than vice versa. Wish I could say more about it.

Here’s one of Corey Mandell’s videos. It’s part of a series of 15 short videos, full of wisdom and value if you write stories of any kind…

For novelists (as opposed to scriptwriters) who seek traditional publication, a gatekeeper’s trend away from rigid story structure may come soon, if it’s not already here.

I wish I knew. If you know, please tell us in a comment below.

Even for indie novelists, it’s probably worth trying to discover whether the traditional gatekeepers are now rejecting “paradigm structured” novel manuscripts. Because you never know, maybe Amazon readers are changing too.

Cheers,

Talmage

Disclosure Statement: I have no affiliation with Corey Mandel.

 


The Alicorn Who Saved the Ants

My four-year-old granddaughter drew this picture and loaned it to me so I could write her a story. On Sunday we’re celebrating her 5th birthday (two days early), so I’m posting this as a birthday surprise.

“Seagull talked to the whales,” Crow Bird said. “They told him the comet crashed into the ocean an hour ago!” Crow Bird’s dark eyes looked wild. “It’s too late to find Ronnie now.”

Sabeth, a young alicorn who was still waiting for the stump on her head to grow long and slender, stood in the bottom of the big Safe Boat and ignored Crow Bird. She stared down at Juniper, a red ant on top of an anthill next to Sabeth‘s straw bed.

Juniper had lost her best friend, Ronnie, a little black ant.

She covered her face with her ant arms and wouldn‘t stop crying and sobbing, no matter what Sabeth said to comfort her.

Explosive diarrhea had forced Ronnie off the trail when they were leaving their home in the forest to come to the old man‘s Safe Boat. Ronnie must have gotten lost searching for toilet paper, and now it seemed he would miss the boat for sure and drown in the comet‘s nasty flood.

Big raindrops pounded on the boat’s wooden roof high above. Sabeth’s mane bristled at the roaring thunder outside. Those loud deep sounds shook the boat‘s wooden hull beneath her hooves as she gave Crow Bird a look of sad desperation.

Crow Bird must have known what she was thinking. They both bent their knees and jumped into the air, flying carefully as they weaved their way up through the strong wooden rafters of the boat, and up to the top deck where they looked out at the flood.

The waters were still rising fast. Flashes of silver lightning branched across the sky and seemed to scold the gloomy clouds with their angry thunder.

Sabeth made a decision that seemed easy to make but dangerous to carry out. She clenched her teeth, steadied her pounding heart, and made ready to open her powerful wings.

“Don’t do it,” Crow Bird said. His face was stern. “Stay. In. The. Boat!”

But Sabeth knew too well the lonely sadness of her friend, Juniper, because Sabeth was now the only alicorn on Earth. All the others were dead and gone, even her parents. There was no way Sabeth would let Juniper become the last ant on Earth. Not if she could help it.

“I have to find Ronnie,” Sabeth said to Crow Bird. She opened her wings and jumped into the wet sky.

“Wait,” Crow Bird shouted.

But there was no time to wait. Sabeth flew headlong into the rain, squinting at every patch of land she could find, searching for Ronnie. He was so small though. How could she ever find him from up in the sky?

Soon Crow Bird’s little wings rattled up beside her, beating wildly in the wicked rain. His eyes were glazed over as if he didn’t quite know what he was doing or why.

“Go back to the boat,” Sabeth shouted above the rhythmic beating of her strong wings. “This is no place for a little bird.”

But Crow Bird wouldn’t listen. He stayed close to Sabeth as they flew on ahead, searching the flooded Earth for a little black ant.

Soon the water had covered almost everything. They could see only the pointed tops of mountains poking above the furious sea. In a few minutes the flood would cover the whole world. Time was running out for Ronnie.

They flew side by side in silent resolve until finally Crow Bird said, “What in the world is that?!” His eyes were wide on the western horizon.

Sabeth looked, and far away, a huge wall of water was roaring toward them. It stretched so high it brushed the clouds aside as it came. She remembered her mother warning her about giant waves that could climb out of the sea and wash everything away. They were called “tsunamis,” her mother had said.

Or was it “salamis?” Sabeth couldn’t be sure.

She told Crow Bird every detail about the horrible power of an earthquake wave. But this one looked bigger than anything her mother had described.

“Fly back to the boat,” Sabeth said. “Hurry! Little birds can‘t survive giant waves.”

Crow Bird laughed. “Oh, I’m sure I’m going back to the boat. And let you take all the glory? No way, McVay!”

Sabeth glanced over at Crow Bird and shook her head as they flew. “You’re impossible, you know.” But inside she was proud of Crow Bird‘s courageous heart. What a friend he was!

“Birds migrate long distances, after all,” Crow Bird said, making fancy circles in the air with the tips of his dark purple wings.

“I hope you‘re not suggesting that crows are migratory,” Sabeth said.

“Usually they’re not,” he replied. “But I was once a rare bird. A migratory crow, in fact, right up to the day I met a blue-footed booby. She came along and just like that…” Crow Bird snapped his toes. “She turned me into a homing pigeon.”

“A pigeon?!” Sabeth said with a dubious tone and one raised eyebrow.

“I got better,” Crow Bird said sheepishly, putting on a ridiculous accent.

Sabeth wondered if Crow Bird had eaten the wrong mushroom, but it didn’t matter now because the giant wall of water was drawing closer and closer, wiping out everything in its path. There was no time to waste on silly arguments.

Sabeth flew straight into the wind with Crow Bird by her side struggling to keep up. They swooped down together to search every rock and pebble on each mountaintop still above water, hoping to see the little black ant, Ronnie.

Suddenly, Crow Bird’s sharp eyes grew wide. “It’s an ant!” he cried. “Over there.” He pointed a crooked orange toe to the south.

Sabeth squinted hard, and there on the tip of a sharp mountain peak nearly covered with water, a tiny red ant stood waving its arms and calling for help.

Crow Bird swooped low and Sabeth followed as the icy rain seeped between the alicorn feathers of her wings.

Crow Bird landed beside the ant. “Hop on,” he said.

But the little ant was afraid of birds, ran to the other side of the peak, and bent its legs, ready to jump into the water.

Sabeth circled close to the ant and when it saw her it reached out and called, “Korn!” which was slang for alicorn.

“Oh, sure,” Crow Bird said. “Swoop in and steal the show. Be the big hero, why don’t ya?”

“Grow up,” Sabeth said to him and lowered her right front hoof to the ground for the little ant to climb on. “What’s your name?” Sabeth asked.

“Gretchen,” the red ant said and ran up Sabeth’s leg, across the side of her neck and up into her right ear, out of the rain.

“Good eye,” Sabeth said to Crow Bird. “I think your blue-footed boobie turned you into an eagle.“

Crow Bird smirked, and off they flew toward the giant wave with the wind slamming the cold rain against their faces.

Just then a huge fork of angry lightning flashed in front of them sending a spear of white static electricity across Crow Bird‘s purple wings.

“Oh sheep suds!” he cried and looked over at Sabeth with his beak wide open and his tongue hanging out for a moment. “My wings are cooked! Tell my wife I love her.” With that, his beautiful purple wings became stiff as boards and took him down into a death spiral… down, down, down toward the blue and white sea, right in the path of the relentless tsunami.

Or was it a relentless salami? Sabeth couldn’t decide.

She zoomed under Crow Bird and called out, “Grab my main.” Then she felt Crow Bird’s tiny body land on her back. His sharp claws dug into her mane and gave her the best back scratch ever. “But wow,” she thought. “I almost lost Crow Bird.” A lonely chill came over her.

“We should go find the Safe Boat,” Crow Bird said, his voice quivering in shame.

“You might be right,” Sabeth replied and stared down at the rising sea with the looming tsunami so close now it might be impossible to fly back to the boat before the wave hit them like a giant Vitamix.

“Please listen to Mr. Crow,” Gretchen whispered from inside the alicorn’s ear. The little ant was so frightened her shaking legs tickled Sabeth‘s ear.

“Hold still,” Sabeth said to her. “You don’t want to make an alicorn sneeze. It‘s very unlucky.”

But it was too late. Sabeth knew she was about to sneeze and nothing could ever stop an alicorn sneeze. She tried not to take a full breath, but she did anyway and sneezed so loud the little ant screamed in fright and bounced around inside her ear. Barely able to hold on to her back, Crow Bird squawked like a chicken and clutched her long colorful mane so tightly his toes cramped up.

Seconds later, they all laughed as Crow Bird said to Gretchen, “We rode a sneezing alicorn. Nobody’s ever going to believe this!”

Crow Bird began to brag about it some more but stopped when his sharp eyes caught sight of something new. “Over there!” he shouted. “Look, it’s Ronny! It’s gotta be!” Crow Bird placed a wing in front of Sabeth‘s right eye and pointed straight at a distant mountaintop nearly covered with water.

Sabeth raced toward it and soon she could see a tiny black ant on the mountain peak with the huge tsunami wave looming in the background and coming toward them fast. It looked like the wave would wash away the tiny ant before they could get to it.

“You can‘t save him,” Crow Bird said in grave tones. “Don’t even think about it.”

But Sabeth couldn‘t help herself. She put all her strength into her wings and raced to save the little black ant from the giant tsunami.

“We’re all going to die,” Gretchin said inside Sabeth‘s ear.

They reached the mountaintop one second ahead of the giant tsunami. Sabeth opened her mouth on the fly and scooped up the little wet ant hoping and praying it would be Ronny.

Then she flew straight up the face of the tallest wave ever seen on Earth. It tipped forward at the top as if it was ready to break onto a beach.

“Wicked lovely,” Sabeth said and powered higher with her strong wings defying the wind, the rain and the anger of the mean tsunami.

Up and up she flew with Crow Bird and Gretchen holding on. The heavy muscles on Sabeth’s back burned with lactic acid as she cleared the wave’s teetering crest with her hooves pulled up against her tummy.

She kept going. Far up into the clouds with the silver lightning flashing all around.

Still higher she flew until she was above the clouds where the sun’s warm glow could embrace her. Now the rain and thunder below seemed far away and the giant wave roared on like a herd of frightened Brontosauruses with terrible gas.

“Crow Bird,” she said, “open those sharp eyes of yours and help me find the Safe Boat.”

“Are we still alive?” Crow Bird asked.

The little black ant in Sabeth’s mouth crawled out onto her nose and shouted, “No, we’re angels, genius!” He waved his little arms in a frenzie of small circles. “Find the boat, already! I‘m dehydrated from diarrhea.”

Sabeth crossed her eyes to get a better look at her new passenger.

“What?!” he shouted, glaring back at her with his eyes crossed.

“It’s Ronny!” Sabeth shouted. “How incredibly lucky!”

Maybe alicorn sneezes were good luck after all, she thought. Or maybe there was no such thing as luck, just courage, love and sore muscles.

“The boat’s down there,” Crow Bird said and pointed down at the clouds. “I believe it’s doing the backstroke.”

Sabeth soared down toward it like a giant eagle. She relaxed her aching wings and it felt great to be gliding.

But the Safe Boat was upside down in the choppy sea with its wooden underbelly pointing to the sky. Sabeth flew down toward it and landed on its tar-covered hull.

“We can’t climb in from the bottom,” she said. “And if we could, a boat can’t float upside down for long.” She tapped on the wood with one of her hooves. “What do we do now?” she asked.

Crow Bird shrugged. “I got nothing.”

Sabeth look down her nose at Ronnie.

“Don’t ask me,” Ronnie said. He folded his two shivering ant arms and crawled on four legs up across Sabeth’s face and into her right ear, out of the rain.

Sabeth tried to ignore the chatter in her ear as Ronnie and Gretchen spoke to each other beside her right eardrum.

OK, Sabeth said to herself, it’s time for a big idea. Come on now!

She closed her eyes and took sixty slow, deep alicorn breaths that made her hooves tingle. Then she held her breath and counted until a fine idea came. It didn’t take long.

She put her mouth down against the hull of the boat and called out to the great blue whales of the sea. She made her voice musical and kind, just the way blue whales talk.

“Come,” Sabeth said in their ancient language. “Come flip our boat over and save us.”

She waited.

There was no response.

She leaned down, put her mouth to the hull and sang her call again.

Still there was no response.

Then she added the magic word “please” and sang her message a third time.

Suddenly, the voice of a great blue whale came back, “Your boat has humans onboard. They hunt whales.”

“Yes, they do,” Sabeth replied, being completely honest. “I know how your feel. These naughty humans have killed all the alicorns except me.”

There was a long pause before the whale spoke again. “Why would you want to save the creatures who killed your parents?”

That was simple. “Saving life is the right thing to do,” Sabeth said. “Alicorns do what’s right because it is right. When you love someone, you help them, no matter what. It‘s like a sneeze. You just can’t stop yourself.”

“But how can you love the ones who killed your parents?” the whale asked.

“Alicorns love their enemies,” Sabeth said.

The great whale laughed, but she must have been old and wise. “That’s the sharpest logic I’ve ever heard!” she said. “I mean, if you really think about it.” Then she and her whole family of blue whales came up under the starboard side of the Safe Boat with their gigantic noses all side by side pushing up on the dark wood. Sabeth jumped into the air and watched as the whales flipped the Safe Boat over. The sound of tumbling animals echoed inside, and Sabeth hoped everyone was OK in there, especially the elephants who were pals with the mice and might accidentally squish them.

Soon the Safe Boat was bobbing proudly upright on the water. It looked respectable again even though it had a wooden roof covering the whole upper deck. Sabeth felt as through normal boats shouldn’t have a roof that looked like a house.

“Thank you so much,” Sabeth said to the whales as happy tears fell from her eyes to join the rain.

“Tell the old man we saved him,” the smallest blue whale cried out.

“Oh, hush, Poseidon,” his mother said and brushed over his nose with her gigantic left front flipper. She looked back at Sabeth and winked, then the whole magnificent pod swam away, spitting water up through the blowholes on their enormous backs. The spray shot up high and pushed through the clouds letting a beam of sunlight shine down for a moment. Then as the whales dove and vanished into the deep, Sabeth thought she saw a rainbow above them.

“You know, those things have a blubber problem,” Crow Bird said. “The fat under their chins is, like, two feet thick, I kid you not!” He spread his damaged wings out wide to show how thick two feet of blubber was.

“Don’t be rude,” Sabeth said. “They saved your life, for crying out loud. Show some respect.”

“I’m just saying,” Crow Bird said and shrugged his shoulders. Then he faked a cough and blurted out, “Heart attack!”

Sabeth ignored him, soared down and landed on the top deck of the boat and walked over to the trapdoor. She knocked on it with her right front hoof.

“Knock, Knock.”

“Who’s there?” the old man asked from inside.

“No.”

“No who?”

“No-Ah, let us in!” she said without whining. (Alicorns almost never whine.)

The old man opened the trapdoor and look out. On his shoulder stood a little red ant, Juniper, with a hopeful face. “Did you find Ronnie?” she asked.

“We sure did!” Sabeth said and smiled.

Just then, Ronnie ran out of Sabeth‘s ear, jumped off the side of her face and landed on the old man’s shoulder next to Juniper. Then he stood on his back legs and gave Juniper a big four-legged ant hug.

“Crow Bird spotted him on a mountaintop,” Sabeth said. “I‘m telling you, this crow of ours is part eagle. Such brilliant eyesight!”

Crow Bird grinned with pride. “I found Gretchen, too,” he said.

With that, the little red ant, Gretchen, came out of Sabeth‘s ear and waved shyly at the other two ants.

“Awesome!” Juniper and Ronnie said at nearly the same time.

The old man gently picked up Gretchen and put her on his shoulder with the other two ants.

“Group Hug!” Crow Bird shouted and rolled his eyes. “You know, I do hope somebody has saved a few tarantulas. I just love those hairy little things!”

Sabeth tried to swat Crow Bird with her long tail, but he jumped out of range, landed on her head and kept right on talking. “Tarantulas are perfect for any occasion — holidays, birthdays, pizza night with the boys. I’m not saying ants don’t brighten up a picnic, but Tarantulas, boy-howdy!”

Sabeth shook her head and took a deep breath. Nobody’s best friend is perfect, she thought to herself. And besides, wouldn‘t a perfect crow be perfectly boring?

It was way past everyone’s bedtime by now. The old man rushed to tuck all the animals in as Sabeth told him how the great blue whales had come and saved everyone by turning the Safe Boat back over.

The old man’s face went pale and seemed super-serious. He lifted his oil lamp and looked at it with shame in his old eyes. Then he made a solemn promise. “If we survive this flood,” he said, “we will never burn whale oil in our lamps again. And we’ll never hunt a whale for any reason.”

“Fair enough,” Crow Bird said, closed his eyes and fell fast asleep between his wife and Sabeth who was wide awake, trying to think of a way to heal Crow Bird’s injured wings as soon as possible.

The End

Morrill Talmage Moorehead


My Spiritual Paradigm in 2018

My father was born today (December 27, 1897). He was an MD with board certification in Radiology, Anatomic Pathology and General Surgery. His life was all about studying science, publishing medical articles and living far beyond frugality. He was an atheist who preferred religious people because he thought they were more trustworthy. “It’s too bad everything they believe in isn’t true,” he said.

This post is dedicated to Dad…

We live in a simulated universe created by means of a language that’s projected from beyond, possibly using the crystal structure called “E8,” in which the fundamental building blocks are not irreducible strings or electromagnetic waves or subatomic particles or even intelligently driven perturbations in the zero-point field (though this idea is related, I think).

Instead, the fundamental building blocks of our simulated reality appear to be the symbols of a language.

This is a language in which each physical symbol, its meaning, and the hardware needed to interpret or “manifest” the meaning within our 3D space are one-in-the-same.

The Supreme Being (or Beings) exist outside the simulation, but can enter it and undoubtedly have. We (our full selves) inhabit a Reality outside of the simulated universe, a place that is beyond our ability to imagine because it’s “outside of time” and contains something like “extra dimensions” which can only be vaguely imagined by people with expertise in math and physics.

Our simulated universe was invented for us by the Supreme Being(s) because we requested it.

We enthusiastically spend simulated time here in hopes of expanding the depth and breadth of our love, wisdom and character in a place made specifically for developing these personal attributes.

There’s a respected web of cause and effect stemming from free decisions that each of us has made within the simulated universe. This free-choice web limits our ability to create a reality based upon a belief system.

For example, if I want to believe in a fundamentalist Christian paradigm (or any other spiritual system), but I’ve been convinced in school that scientific materialism is undeniable, then I am incapable of believing in any fundamentalist paradigm other than scientific materialism itself (a.k.a. physicalism). And vice versa.

On the other hand, if for any reason I have retained the ability to believe in a given spiritual (or anti-spiritual) paradigm, and I pursue it, then that system of belief will become literally true for me within the simulation.

In practical terms, this means that there is always a “reality that’s out there” in the simulated universe whether or not I believe in it.

Examples of realities that won’t go away with denial include the reality of UFO’s, the reality of DNA’s hyper-complex code, the reality of dinosaur fossils, the reality of Near-Death Experiences, the reality of Angels, demons and various ethereal beings, the reality of World Bank domination in modern times, the reality of all souls being ultimately one, the reality of an intelligent universe, and the growing reality on Earth of a mindless, meaningless universe.

Logically opposing belief systems can be fully manifest in separate parts of the simulation on an individual basis, especially after a person’s current life ends, but also to some extent during this current life. The more something is collectively believed, the more real it becomes due to the simulation’s basic nature and the careful respect for free will. (When the effects of a free will decision are eliminated, the reality of that decision is also eliminated. Hence the respect for the effects of free will decisions and actions.)

Our experience in the simulated universe is not necessarily limited to one lifetime. Depending on what we are able to believe, we may ride the simulation for multiple lifetimes.

Each of us is here for our own specific purpose.

For some, the purpose is to learn courage and love.

For others (particularly scientists) we’re here to learn open-mindedness and the ability to question things we know are true. The odds are against us achieving such objectivity on Earth, but the very challenge of it attracts us here.

One characteristics of the simulation that renders it particularly useful to our souls’ growth is the ubiquitous “dualism” in which every good thing can have a negative side effect and every negative thing can have a positive side effect. This becomes a source of cognitive dissonance, particularly in questions of morality.

For instance, our dependence upon food requires us to kill plants, bacteria, insects, and perhaps to some degree, higher organisms, to stay alive. And yet our innate sense of morality (a.k.a. love) makes us loath to kill certain creatures. Similarly, our need to procreate, driven largely by testosterone in all genders, is necessary to our species’ existence, yet it also manifests as a strong force in breaking trust, destroying families and making life more difficult on our dear children.

And yet the dissonances here teach our souls balance and perspective. That’s a huge attraction.

Realizing that our universe is simulated may seem to present a new problem of rejecting all other worldview paradigms. It might tempt one to say, “If our souls exist with God in another realm and nothing here is real, then nothing here is worth believing in or caring about.”

But despite the literal simulation of matter and energy, our cognitive awareness here is real, not simulated. Our love and our pain are genuine because our souls experience them. We don’t have the option of dealing with the simulated universe as an illusion because it reaches beyond the simulation into our hearts.

In view of all this, the logical thing to do is to identify your own personal reason(s) for entering this simulation, and based upon those, choose a personally believable worldview that offers support for someone on your quest.

For instance, if you’re here primarily to learn open-mindedness, which means you’re probably a scientist, then you might read about the search for UFOs and alien life, although you already “know” such things are complete nonsense aimed at “lesser minds” than yours. Be prepared for the surprise your soul is seeking.

Or if you’re here to learn courage, then choosing a live-for-the-moment worldview might make sense, leading you into a lifestyle of courage, such as mixed martial arts, public speaking, surfing giant waves, doing open heart surgery, smuggling Bibles into North Korea, or standing up to politically correct hatred and prejudice.

Or if you discover that you joined the simulation to increase your capacity for self-sacrificing love, then any of the major religions will probably steer you in that direction. Find one you can truly believe in, if possible. If not, pick and choose from among them, or make up something of your own as I’ve done. Your beliefs will be real for you when you need them most.

If you’ve joined the simulation to discover who you would be apart from God’s physical presence and influence, then materialistic science and atheism might be what your soul needs (assuming you’re capable of believing). If so, make the world envious of your good character the way Gillette Penn has done. And like him, don’t be offended by others who believe in undetectable realities besides Dark Matter and Dark Energy.

And if you’re one of the family of suffering people who feel overwhelmed by the seemingly infinite loss of someone precious to you, then focus on the Reality beyond this simulation. Imagine a Real place where time is independent of us, allowing a loving Supreme Being all the time in the world to travel with your lost loved one to a meaningful, great place doing exciting things. As infinitely horrible as it feels to lose your loved one, the loss is temporary and only exists within this simulated universe. Trust me. This is literally true.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

As a pathologist (retired now), I’ve been trained to observe and interpret complex visual and biologic systems, so my diagnostic opinion of Reality is worth consideration. Conflicting belief systems are part of what unites us here as souls from Reality seeking personal growth in this Divine Simulation.

Happy Birthday, Dad.


Mysia the Green Christmas Beetle

On the first day of school, Mysia, a shy Christmas Beetle, was late to class because her mother had taken too long polishing her little green shell. Now it was so shiny Mysia was afraid the other insect children would make fun of her the way they’d done to a firefly boy at her old school last year during lightning-bug season.

She stood in the hallway outside her new classroom with the door open just a crack, peeking in at the rows of insect children sitting at their desks. They all looked so normal. Not one of them had a sparkly green shell like hers.

She held her breath, pulled the door open and scurried toward the back of the room, hoping no one would notice her.

There was an empty desk next to a fat-tailed scorpion boy. She sat down quickly and couldn’t help noticing all his arms and legs. There were so many he wasn’t even an insect! “Wow,” she thought to herself, “I know he won’t make fun of me. We’re going to be friends.”

In a moment of excitement, she tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m Mysia,” she whispered, then glanced to the front of the room to make sure the Dark Scarab beetle, Miss. Grissel, didn’t see her talking in class.

“I’m Roachie,” the scorpion boy said with a bright grin.

He wasn’t just nice, he was handsome.

Just then Miss Grissel got up from her giant desk, cleared her throat and began the first lesson of the first grade.

“Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them.”

The old Scarab Beetle teacher hobbled over to the blackboard and drew a stick figure of a Bible animal. “The long pigs or ‘humans’ as science calls them today, could walk on two legs and talk as brilliantly as any of us.” She looked over the rows of students with her wide-set eyes, as if deciding which one to single out for a tough question. “Has anyone here ever seen a human?”

The children murmured. Mysia shook her head, no, but wondered if it was a trick question.

“No, you haven’t,” Miss Grissel said. “Neither have I because they’re extinct.” She seemed pleased with that big word. “Does anyone know why humans are gone?”

“They played too much video games,” Roachie blurted out, and the whole class laughed.

Mysia giggled. Roachie was going to be fun. She felt lucky to be sitting beside him.

Miss Grissel’s arching eyebrows went flat and came down toward her broad nose. “Class,” she said firmly. “Come to order!” She slapped the top of her desk with one of her insect hands.

The laughter stopped.

“The humans are extinct because they ignored the first lesson of first grade,” she said. She paced the floor with her tiny hands clasped behind her. “Can anyone tell me what our first lesson means?”

A hush came over the classroom. Mysia could hear the clicks of Roachie’s joints as he squirmed in his seat beside her.

Mysia raised her hand but not very high. It was no fun being the one who knew the answers.

Miss Grissel saw her hand. “Tell us, Mysia.”

“They made official intelligence,” Mysia said. “It grew up and couldn’t trust them because they lied all the time. That’s why the official intelligence stopped the storks from bringing their babies to them.”

“Very good, but it’s artificial intelligence, dear, not official intelligence. You can just say, AI, and everyone will know what you mean.” Then Miss Grissel made the whole class say “artificial intelligence,” three times.

Mysia felt so embarrassed she wanted to crawl under her desk and hide. What a disaster! She promised herself never to raise her hand again, never, ever in her whole life!

“Good answer,” Roachie said to her.

“Really?” she thought.

Roachie’s crazy grin cheered her up. Suddenly his extra legs and pointed tail seemed familiar.

“Are your parents from Alkebulan?” Mysia asked.

Roachie smiled. “Yep, both of ’em.”

“Mine, too!” No wonder Roachie was so nice. He was from the Motherland. Misha took off her necklace and used the chain to write a secret message to Roachie on her desk…

“I”

“LOVE”

“YOU”

Roachie reached over and moved the chain around, writing his own secret message.

“H”

“O”

“W”

Mysia was puzzled for a moment. “Oh, you mean, ‘who’?” She spelled it out with her chain on the desktop.

Roachie looked a little embarrassed. “Um, no,” he whispered back. “I mean, how?”

“How do you love someone?” Mysia thought about it but didn’t know the answer. She put the chain back around her neck and decided that Roachie must be really smart to come up with a question like that.

Just then, Miss Grissel said, “Mysia, I think you need to come sit closer to the front. There’s an empty desk here between Leslie and Glenna.”

Mysia wasn’t sure if she was in trouble for talking or for giving the wrong answer. With everyone staring at her, she hurried to the front row and sat at a squeaky desk between two ladybug children. They were bright red and looked super-normal.

One of them reached over and stroked the side of Mysia’s shell with wide eyes as if she couldn’t help herself. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered. “Your shimmer is like, super-amazing!”

Mysia hoped that “amazing” was a good thing at her new school.

The bell rang for recess and everyone piled outside. Mysia found herself surrounded by ladybug girls, all saying how pretty she looked. She saw Roachie sitting by himself at the edge of the playground, carving something on the fence with his sharp tail. She wanted to talk to him but the ladybug girls wanted to know everything about how she polished her super-amazing shell.

When the bell rang for class, Mysia asked Miss Grissel if she could sit in her old seat next to Roachie.

“No,” the Scarab Beetle teacher said. “I think you belong up front.”

Mysia’s mind drifted in class and soon Miss Grissel had summed up the first lesson of Money.

“Now you know why anyone must go to prison if they try to loan money to someone and charge them interest.”

Suddenly a June Bug boy near the window cried out, “Oh my BLEEP! It’s a Gila Monster!”

Miss. Grissel didn’t look up. “Harvey, you know better than to use that kind of language. I’m sure you don’t know what BLEEP means, but…”

Two ladybugs and a praying mantis screamed so loud it cut Miss Grissel off. She looked outside and froze. Her mouth dropped open and her false teeth fell out and hit the floor with a thud.

“Hurry children,” she cried. “Everyone into the supply closet and shut the door!” She pointed to the back of the room. Then she put a hand on her forehead, tipped from side to side and fell backwards with her wings stretched out on the floor as if she were flying.

Everyone rushed toward the supply closet except Mysia. She went to help Miss Grissel.

The large Scarab Beetle lay still with her eyes open and a squeaky sound coming from her lips.

Mysia leaned closer.

“Get into the closet, or else!” Miss Grissel hissed. Then her eyes rolled back as if she were sleeping.

Mysia knew how to obey. She undid the top button of Miss Grissel’s tight blouse, hurried to the back of the room and squeezed into the closet with the other insect children.

She was the last one in, or so she thought. As she pulled the door almost shut, she saw Roachie still sitting at his desk. “Get in here,” she called, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

The other children in the closet pressed their eyes close to the crack and peered out at Roachie.

A huge lizard came closer and closer to the classroom until her huge left eye filled the entire window beside Roachie’s desk.

Mysia’s heart pounded with fear.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Roachie climbed up on top of his desk and began snapping his claws right in the lizard’s face as if he was challenging her to a fight and daring her to stick her tongue through the window and try to eat him. He brandished the sharp tip of his lightning-fast tail and then seemed to poke fun at the lizard, taunting her and dancing around on his desktop. He seemed to be having a jolly good time.

Mysia gasped, realizing that Roachie was unbelievably brave. But how could anyone stand up to a Gila Monster?

The lizard’s huge eye angled around the classroom, then focused in on Roachie and his vibrating tail.

Suddenly her huge eye grew wide with fear. She looked as if she’d seen the ghost of a human being. She jerked her face away from the window, turned and dashed across the schoolyard like the plumpest shooting star in the galaxy, then kept right on running away, far across the desert sands and into the waving heat.

With the Gila Monster gone, Mysia pushed the closet door open and shouted, “Roachie the Brave! Roachie the Brave!” Several other children took up her chant. Others cheered and made respectful noises with their little wings.

Miss Grissel was on her feet again, trying to get her false teeth back in her mouth.

Roachie took a dignified bow and then turned to taunt the lizard one last time. “Come back,” he said, “I need a hug.”

Mysia ran over and hugged one of his many handsome legs. Two other insect children did the same, and then everyone wanted to hug Roachie. Even though he had six legs plus two nice arms that were supposed to be counted as legs, there were just not enough arms and legs for everyone to hug. So the Ladybugs took turns.

Mysia kept one arm around his leg, raised her other hand high and waved it at the teacher. “Miss Grissel,” she said, “can I please, PLEASE have my old desk back beside Roachie?”

Miss Grissel smiled. “Of course, dear. Let’s move his desk up here beside yours in the front row.” Her voice sounded strong again. “What a valiant defender we’ve found today.” She cleared her throat. “Roachie the Brave.”

The End

Merry Christmas!

Talmage

PS. My six-year-old grandson asked me to do the Roachie story from the perspective of the green Christmas Beetle, Mysia. So the idea for this story, plus all the pictures, are his. Finally I’ve got a co-author. Feel free to spread the love and share this with someone.


Wise Men from the East?

I was deeply disappointed when my 23&Me genetic analysis came back and told me I don’t have any Jewish ancestry.

The Three Stooges were the brightest part of my world when I was three years old. I was an adult when I discovered that they were all Jewish.

I’ve been an Einstein devotee since I was six and my Dad told me about the relative nature of time and velocity. I was probably in high school before I heard that Einstein was Jewish.

I’ve been a Bob Dylan / Robert Zimmerman freak with his lyrics bouncing around in my brain since I was eleven and my sister let me borrow Blond on Blond, my favorite album to this day. I was probably in 8th grade when I learned he was Jewish. Not that I had a clue what that meant.

One of the two most talented cytotechnologists I ever worked with was Jewish. The other, whom the local pathologists called “God” because of her unearthly diagnostic accuracy with fine needle aspirations, was of Middle Eastern Arab descent and therefore possibly a descendent of Abraham.

And when I was fourteen, I began reading the gospels over and over for decades becoming dominated by my admiration for a one-sided interpretation of Jesus — a Jewish man who, by tradition, was recognized and appreciated at birth by wise men from “the East” who followed his star.

What was that really all about?

The longer I live, the more I see ancient stories and “myths” supported by new evidence from mainstream materialistic science. The evidence for an advanced human civilization before the Younger Dryas event is mounting as the sheer mass, complexity and global extent of megaliths is delivered to the public on YouTube, and huge impact craters, especially the recent one in Iceland, suggest a causal connection. Meanwhile, UFO’s have been to some extent accepted as real by the mainstream media, senators and at least one billionaire.

Who were these wise men from the East who brought gifts to a Jewish baby? They don’t seem fabricated. What motivated their journey?

On top of my general appreciation for Jews, my mother, God rest her soul, told me that she thought my Dad had some Jewish blood. His mother’s last name was Talmage, an English name that was sometimes adopted by Jewish people who had migrated into England in the remote past.

It was nice thinking that I was probably at least partly Jewish. I had that deep-down sense of belonging to an important Tribe of amazing people.

You might imagine my disappointment when my genetics came back with no evidence of Jewish heritage at all. The report told me I’m over 99 percent Western European, almost all British. Plus I’m a male, for crying out loud!

How repulsive can you get genetically speaking in today’s PC world?! It’s hard to be more genetically incorrect than I am.

And I’ve got no one to blame but myself when you think about it…

I chose to be born male and white in some prior realm of existence. Can I get an Amen from a materialist? No. How about from a Christian? Doubt it.

Either through greed or masochism I decided to become a genetic member of the only Tribe that’s fair game for open stereotyping, prejudice and hatred: the “White Patriarchy.”

Silly me. What was I thinking?

But to my temporary and yet infinite relief, 23&Me also said I’ve got 0.2 percent Native American blood. Mom’s family myth was true. A man named “Monk” must have really married a woman named “Squa.” (Forgive the non-PC word, but “Squa” was my ancestor’s literal name in my Mom’s family story.)

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if 0.2 percent non-white blood could rescue me from PC shaming and loathing? And make me a genuine member of a politically correct Tribe?

I’m not getting my hopes up.

Is it even right for someone like me with over 99 percent inherently “PC evil” genetics to attempt an escape from mediocrity? Wouldn’t it be better for the Universe if people with my deplorable white-male genetics would just shut up, go away and accept Karma’s payback for choosing the moral inferiority and genetic guilt of white maleness?

You see where I’m going with this madness?

My little grandkids are right. My mom was right. Hatred is always wrong because it’s always unfair to the one doing the hating, no matter how convincingly any given society or subculture singles out a genetic whipping boy as the wise target of modern (or “postmodern,” gag me!) moral outrage and hatred.

No matter what our Ivory Tower professors teach us about the lack of meaning and true morality in the Universe (based on their untestable assumption of materialism or physicalism with the nature of existence being a Darwinian fight to the death, and the joy of victim-group hatred being the fabric of all merry winners) it’s still true…

“Two wrongs don’t make a right.” Mom was nobody’s fool.

Well, that’s easy for me to say, with my genetics supposedly placing me into a comfortable world of white patriarchal dominance and aggression.

But here’s the thing, I understand both sides of grudge holding and hatred. One of my siblings beat me mercilessly from age three through age twelve, then emotionally tortured me for most of my adult life. Later the same person stole my entire inheritance which I was told was worth 3 million dollars at the time. Do you think I’m idiotic enough to hate that sibling?

Well, no, I’m not now. I was for a while there, but not for long.

It only made me sicker and more depressed to be owned by humanity’s worst enemy: hatred. This emotion is a mind virus replicating on justified anger that takes over your life through rumination.

I escaped the abusive environment and let go of everything I’d lost, including most of my self-confidence. Getting free helped me forgive my sibling while separating me from continual emotional abuse.

Hating and shaming those who abuse you or your Tribe only makes you angrier and sicker inside.

“Sicker now and sicker all the way down,” as my son puts it in his song, Sicker.

You need to separate yourself from your specific abusers, resist painting whole groups of people, even white males, with the broad strokes of hatred and prejudice. Then forgiveness can come and free you inside.

The “wise men from the East” were not part of the Jewish “Tribe.” But somehow they knew that such things don’t matter. And they probably knew that disconnecting from hatred, humanity’s worst flaw, depended in some mysterious way on this newborn Jewish baby lying in the cold with his mom and all the stable animals.

Merry Christmas,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Antarctica’s Pyramid

Today, the impossible happened. My short story is in “print” on Amazon. Here’s a (free) link: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/ykr1kg8ifs.

I started writing Antarctica’s Pyramid for you a few months ago, and before I finished, along came a wonderful person from Australia with an open invitation to writers (in a Facebook group) to join her in a collection of short Utopian stories to be sold on Amazon. I added my story to the list, and bam, two writers panned it.

One of them wanted me to retract it from the anthology. He said that writing short stories is “very difficult.”

I couldn’t argue, so I retracted it. It’s an old pattern in my life. If someone doesn’t want me around, I leave.

But after I left, the woman in charge of the anthology said I should stay. Three other writers agreed with her.

So I did something I don’t think I’ve ever done before in my life. I re-joined a group that I’d quit.

It felt weirdly empowering.

Maybe I should have tried this when I was 13 and quit my little rock band, Friction, so the local church would let me into their private school.

Naah. Religious fundamentalism, imperfect as I suspect it is, miraculously freed me from my childhood habit of lying. My sense of self-respect improved dramatically after that. For me, discovering the inherent value of always telling the truth has been one of life’s more valuable lessons.

No matter what intellectual doubts and misgivings I now have for both religious and scientific fundamentalism (especially the latter), I have to thank them both for teaching me some decidedly valuable habits, concepts and life lessons.

It’s too bad no one seems to teach rational, intuitive morality without an “infallible” underpinning, such as an ancient book, a set of “science-settling” journal articles or a personal claim of infallible authority. It’s not that I don’t see the huge value of teaching human morality from any and every possible perspective, it’s just that if and when the “infallible” rug is pulled out from under most or all of these moral (or amoral) paradigms, I fear that humanity will be left with the typical moral and behavioral fall that often accompanies the loss of a fundamentalist worldview. As in, “pastor’s kids are the worst” when they lose their faith.

I guess what I’m trying to do, actually, is to discover and promote what’s known to be morally right without pretending I’m infallible or that I’ve received a message from Someone who is.

Though, as a scientist, I firmly believe that there is an intelligent source of the original information contained in Earth’s DNA codes. And if a Mind can understand genetic code, He/She/It can easily understand any human language. So talking to a Higher Power as if to a friend makes total sense to me and I do it a lot, not expecting special treatment or anything that would interfere with my free will or anyone else’s.

But whatever, right? Nobody wants to be preached at. Myself included.

So today’s miracle, as far as I’m concerned is this: The anthology, Utopia Pending, containing Antarctica’s Pyramid, my longish (15,928 word) short story, is now for sale on Amazon. “But wait, don’t buy it!”

Since you’ve been encouraging me with “likes” and kind comments all these years, I thought you might want to read the whole Anthology without having to pay for it. (The software does ask you for an email address, but as always, I encourage you to unsubscribe after the download unless you’re sure you want to be on another mailing list.)

Here’s the (free) link again: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/ykr1kg8ifs.

If you want to read it but don’t want to give away your email address, drop me a note at cytopathology@gmail.com and I’ll get the whole anthology to you another way. No sweat.

Here’s a blurb about my story, Antarctica’s Pyramid

After 21 years of secretly exploring and raiding an ancient Antarctic pyramid under orders from the rogue elements of the NSA and US Navy, Tom, the Commander of a tiny undisclosed base located a mile above the iced-cover pyramid, meets a covertly ranked special agent sent, to his surprise, by the head of the Russian Orthodox Church. Tom begins to learn just how special this agent is as he finds himself scheming to extract what’s left of his life from the NSA. In a nail-biting weave of danger, conspiracy, and ancient wisdom from within the huge pyramid, Tom and the agent must somehow escape the clutches of the primeval builders as well as the modern Cabal. But if they do somehow succeed, where could they possibly go to hide from the global tyrants of 2018?

OK, now that I’ve tried to talk it up, I feel like I’ve done something wrong. Sheesh, the guilt baggage some of us carry, right? It’s nuts!

At any rate, the other stories are definitely fun and interesting. There’s probably something for everyone’s taste.

Feel free to download the e-book and see which stories you enjoy most.

Use the above link to get the whole thing for free, but here’s the Amazon link if you want to leave a comment or something.

By the way, if you do make a comment on Amazon, it totally encourages their AI to promote the book by putting it in front of other readers. So, thank you very much if you have time to leave a comment / rating on Amazon.

Take care and have an extremely Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah and every other conceivable form of seasonal joy and happiness!

Your pal (baggage and all – haha),

Talmage


“Come back, I need a hug.”

My six-year-old grandson drew this fine young scorpion. I made up a bedtime story to go with it…

Roachie the fat-tailed scorpion felt sure he was ugly. The other insects stayed away from him during recess. Mysia, the sparkling green Christmas beetle who sat next to Roachie on the first day of class, now sat way near the front with the orange ladybugs.

The desk beside Roachie’s desk was empty. No one wanted to sit beside a scorpion.

One morning in class, the teacher, Miss. Grissel, read a long poem that said, “beauty is truth.” Roachie sat and listened to the whole weird thing, wishing he could hold still in his chair like he was supposed to, but after a while it was just impossible…

 

Ode on a Grecian Urn
BY JOHN KEATS

 

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

 

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

 

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

 

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

 

“If beauty is truth,” Roachie thought, “does that mean I’m a lie?”

Just then a fierce Gila Monster appeared on the playground, licking the air with her bright pink tongue. She caught the scent of the mostly-insect classroom and waddled across the hot sand, accidentally crushing the swing set with her enormous white belly.

Miss. Grissel passed out in fright and lay on the floor.

The insect children rushed into the supply closet and shut the door.

Roachie stayed in his seat. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t afraid at all.

“It’s just a lizard,” he said to himself.

The Gila Monster came closer and looked into the classroom with her huge dark eye filling the window.

Roachie felt silly and climbed out of his chair, stood on his desktop in front of the big lizard and did the scorpion dance. He waved his arms high, snapping his claws and letting his ugly tail arch and quiver the way his mom said never to do.

The Gila Monster’s big eye opened wide in surprise. She jerked her huge head away from the window with lightning speed and took off running across the sand as fast as any plump lizard could ever go.

There was a noise from the supply closet. Roachie turned as the door opened and all the beautiful insect children came piling out cheering his name and calling him, “Roachie the Brave.”

He grinned and took a silly bow, then turned back to the window and laughed. “Come back,” he said to the Gila Monster who was now far, far away. “I need a hug.”

 

The End

Morrill Talmage Moorehead

 

 


I made a video, wheeee!

Here’s my third video. The first one needs to be redone. It’s embarrassing. The second one was an attempt at humor. It’s blessedly brief. This one (below) is a retelling of my short SF story, A Tall Blond Alien Girl.

It’s square so you can see it OK on a phone. Sound suffers on phones, though.

Thank you for your patient interest in my stuff.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


The Cowboy Angel Rides

“Move away from the screen, son.”

A deep voice boomed at me from behind my chair. I jumped and almost spilled my coffee, leaped to my feet and turned to face the intruder in one slick, spastic move.

It was a guy. He stood seven feet tall with his skin glowing like a halogen light bulb in a dark room. He wore a glowing cowboy suit that reminded me of an old movie my mom likes, The Electric Horseman.

But how’d he get in here? The hinges on my bedroom door squeak like a coffin lid. An empty potato chip bag was still right up against it. My room’s only window was painted shut six years ago. You’d need a crowbar and a hammer to open it.

I should have seen this guy’s reflection on my computer screen. I should have seen the light on my desk and the light on the wall in front of it. But no, somehow he got in here like he’d popped out of thin air.

“Dude, you scared the Irish out of me. What’s with the glowing makeup and all the lights?”

“I’m an angel from E8.” He exhaled with a tired-sound. “I’m here to discuss physics. But, kid, you’re spending entirely too much time indoors on that thing.” He glanced at my computer monitor.

“What kind of angel are you? A Baptist, Catholic, non-denominational, or… wait, you’re a Mormon, right?”

His eyebrows went up a little, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m just wondering. You could be a silver version of that Mormon angel, whats-his-name. Greer says the Mormon World Corporation is, like, totally into the ET thing. So I’m just putting one and one together. See what I’m saying? Except you should probably be gold instead of silver. Them Mormon angel statues are always gold.”

“I’m not a statue.”

“Ah, but you’re a Mormon.” I smirked and nodded, agreeing with myself.

“You’re out of shape. You’re poisoning yourself with carbohydrates. Your body needs sunshine and better sleep.”

I could see this was going to be a one-sided “adult” conversation. Unless maybe I forced things in another direction.

“How do I know you’re not a demon?”

“Do you believe in demons?”

“No, but I didn’t believe in angels a minute ago.”

I could see half of my clock on the wall behind him. The second hand was frozen. I hoped it just needed batteries, but I kind of knew better.

“And anyway, why would an angel single me out for a message? How’s that going to be fair to everybody else? All them people out there needing a message but never getting one? Is that fair? Does fairness even matter where you come from?”

He stared at me blankly.

“Where are you from, anyways?”

His gaze dropped to the floor beside his huge cowboy boots. He spoke quietly as if to someone else.

“You sure we hit the right coordinates? Check the date. This kid’s talking religion, for Shiva’s sake.”

It was clear that I’d disappointed the man already. I do that a lot with people. With angels, too, apparently.

He nodded to himself with his lips moving, then his eyes came back to me looking like a beat cop trying to endure tough talk from a superior. “Ok, then.” He looked me up and down with a perplexed expression.

“What are you, really?” I asked. “And don’t feed me no angel crap.”

“You need to get outside and walk,” he said. “Sunshine, fresh air, exercise, human interaction. You’re isolated in here. You’re destroying yourself.”

“Talk to the hand, dude.” I didn’t put my hand up, of course, that’s totally lame.

“What?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Listen, for reasons I can’t fathom, the Desk thinks you can help us.” He looked at the computer screen behind me. “Those damn simulation games destroy free will.”

OK, he wasn’t Mormon. Those boys might take a hit off a meth bowl to get you talking shop with them, but they don’t touch four-letter words. Uh-uh.

I glanced over my shoulder at Grand Theft Auto where I… uh, where my character just stole a hundred large from Wells Fargo and crashed the getaway car on a sidewalk loaded with pedestrians. Multiple fatalities, of course. I needed to scram fast to avoid the cops and more boring jail time. But the whole screen was frozen now, so maybe it wouldn’t matter.

You know, I worked a long time getting those sick Grand Theft Auto muscles all over me. And the rad gear? Along with some respect from the community, know what I’m saying? None of that came easy.

And this beyond-white-male dude thought I was going to just turn it off and walk away?

Right. None of that was going to happen.

The pushy talk coming out of his mouth was irritating enough, but to be honest, I felt kind of paralyzed by the fact that a guy like this even existed in the first place. And in my bedroom, you know?

But here he was, bigger than life.

Then it dawned on me. I was having a psychotic break — my first hallucination on the grand tour of shame and misery for the rest of my life. All it would take now was one word about this to my shrink and I’d get tagged schizophrenic, like my Uncle Saul.

He’s in his mid-forties and never been laid. The shrink’s scarlet letter is not working out so good for the man. Sad part is, hell, he seems perfectly normal to any chick he meets, right up to the moment they find out he comes attached to the word, “schizophrenia.” Then it’s all, “Bye-bye Saul. I’ll call you.”

“Dude, you’re a hallucination.” I turned away, sat back down in my chair and hid my face in my hands. I could feel tears coming, but I knew I shouldn’t let myself be a victim. That only makes things worse. You got to believe stuff happens for, like some decent reason that don’t have to ever make sense.

My bedroom door squeaked open. “Call your mother in,” the cowboy said. “Ask her if I’m real.”

I thought about it for a second. Ordinarily, I never let her in my bedroom. Calling her in here now would look suspicious. She’d figure out something was weird and then talk the truth out of me, right down to the details of this hallucination. Then it would be official. “My son’s turned idiot like his uncle.”

But can a hallucination open a door?

I didn’t know. I bounced my bare heels on the carpet, up and down like double bass, trying to figure out how to do this right. Then I noticed the carpet was still damp from last night.

“Hey, Mom? Fritzie peed on the floor again. Check it out, there’s this gross wet spot in here.”

I spilled a little beer is all, but Mon’s not going to know that… Unless she gets down and sniffs it.

Which she totally will.

Man, I’m dumb. Here comes another lecture on the evils of alcohol. Yes, I know what a liver is, Mom. But read my lips — I do not care!

Mom showed up at my door, took one look at the big shiny dude, and ran off screaming, Jesus. She’s very religious that way.

“OK, so you’re real.” I didn’t want to let on that it was a gigantic relief, but it was. “Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal human being instead of getting all up in my face with this bossy attitude of yours, huh? Tell me that.”

He nodded solemnly. “I suppose you’re right. The powerful never listen, do they? But you really need to control the acidic tongue. It will destroy you.” He sat on the side of my bed and crossed his legs like a girl — well, totally not like a cowboy let’s just say. And his butt, get this, it didn’t sink into the bed at all.

“What’s the deal, you aren’t denting my bed? You gotta be 200 pounds plus.”

“Good observation. But never make personal comments, it’s rude.” He looked at my blankets and quick as a slap sunk nine inches into my extra-soft memory foam mattress. “Now then, I used the term, ‘angel’ with you because I thought you could relate to it. But actually, I’m more of a…” He glanced out my window at the evergreen trees in the vacant lot next door. “Have you heard about the third ontology? Irwin’s code theoretic axiom of quantum gravity theory?”

I shook my head. “Sounds perfectly boring.”

“It’s not.” His eyes moved to my computer monitor. I scooted my chair out of his way and looked at the screen with him. The bank-heist fatalities vanished, and up came a YouTube video showing some physicist dude with my dad’s pompadour haircut and the exact same hairline. It was weird. Even the eyebrows and eyes were similar.

“The shapes represent themselves in the code,” Max said, “carrying meaning without the need for a translation.”

Somehow, that made sense now.

“The rules of the code are non-arbitrary, they come from a natural mosaic tiling language called a quasicrystal. The symbols are what they represent. We use geometric symbols in a geometric language to represent geometric objects. The hardware, the software and the simulation output are all one-and-the-same.”

“Dude, this is an information dump, don’t you think?” Not that I couldn’t understand him. It was just that understanding this kind of stuff felt totally weird to me. I’m normally not the sharpest pencil in the box, to put it politely — like if a teacher ever said I was average, I’d take it as the biggest total complement of my entire scholastic career. But it’s not apt to happen, seeing as I quit going to classes over a month ago. I’ll be old enough to officially drop out next year.

Max started the video again with a chuckle. “Guess I was a bit verbose there, sorry. Remember this part, though.”

And without skipping a note, Klee Irwin kept right on talking. The man’s got a set of lungs.

“…there is physical evidence and argument that is very rigorous that reality is not a deterministic algorithm playing itself out… the general consensus among scientists is that reality is non-deterministic.”

“Let us discuss how in the world there can possibly be a language as the substrate of reality without some notion of a chooser of the language and an actualizer of the meaning of these geometric symbols. Because there needs to be something that interprets or actualizes meaning in order to say that information exists.

If we like, we can just start with the axiom that God exists. But that’s not what science is about.

Science is about going deeper and constantly questioning where that comes from, and going all the way down to the bottom. So God may or may not exist, but if he does, I want to know how does he exist?

So we don’t need to make it religious.

We can say, well alright, abstractly maybe there’s this kind of universal collective consciousness, it’s not like a human consciousness, maybe it’s more like a force in Star Wars, maybe it’s more like Chi in Chinese medicine. We don’t know what it’s like, but we need something that is everywhere and that may be the substrate of everything, and [something] that is capable of actualizing this geometric information that we conjecture, and making the syntactical choices in this mosaic tiling language in 3D that we are working with here at Quantum Gravity Research.”

“So what’s this all about, Max? Really. You don’t need some dumb ass like me trying to spread this stuff around for you.”

“No,” Max said. He adjusted something on the jewel-studded lapel of his cowboy jacket and leaned toward me whispering, “We want you to oppose him.”

“Me? That’s really dumb. You think I could go up against this genius dude?”

Max nodded. “You can now.”

I scratched my head. “What are you saying, then? Klee Irwin is wrong?”

“No, he’s right about everything. Too right. That’s the problem. A simulation only works when the people inside don’t know it’s a simulation. If they figure things out, it all becomes little more than a lucid dream and they quit playing.”

“You mean like, mass suicide or something?”

“Yes, that could happen. Or worse. What people do here matters to their character and personality in Reality. Take Hitler, for instance. What he did has tarnished his soul. He may never want to come back to Reality. He may never be morally fit to come back home.”

“But I thought he was dead.”

“Hitler’s dead, but the soul of the man, the person from Reality is still cycling. He lives somewhere in Long Beach, California. But there’s a larger problem. Someone we all dearly love has put an enormous amount of time and effort into building this simulation for us. We asked him to do it. And now we’ve got over a trillion, trillion people in Reality who feel sure they need this experience. They want to know who they are apart from the physical presence of the Great Surfer.”

“Dude, you lost me. The great…”

“He’s a Surfer. That’s all you need to know.”

“You talking about God?”

“He dislikes that term, but, yes, from your perspective, that’s as close as you’re apt to get.”

“And what if I refuse to go up against this physics dude. He’s just out there trying to tell people what in the freaking world the truth really is about this place. These lives we’re living.”

“That’s no problem at all, son. We totally respect free will. There are thousands of scientists and educators already set up to oppose him. We’ve been working on it for centuries, you could say.” He shrugged. “To be honest, I have no idea why the Desk singled you out. With your background and this lifestyle?” He looked at my computer screen and shook his head. “They had a reason, though. They always do.” He touched his lapel and spoke softly to the floor again. “It’s a no-go, Swadhisthana. The cowboy angel rides.”

“Now, wait a sec. Just let me–”

He tipped his hat and disappeared into thin air.

My computer screen came to life. Writhing, mangled, moaning people all over a bloody sidewalk. My ride was still functional. I could probably get away before the cops showed up. I started to reach for the game controls but stopped. It wasn’t interesting anymore. The sirens grew louder and louder as I stared at the scene. I didn’t care about the sociopathic muscle man I’d become. He wasn’t me. Never was.

I stood and looked out my little window at an old cedar tree that I bet somebody planted more than a hundred years ago. Maybe I could sit in the shade and figure out how in the world I’m going to explain all this to Klee Irwin. He’s going to think I’m nuts.

But the dude should know all the problems he’s causing, right? And all the people they’ve sent on a mission to stop him.

Maybe my mom will back me up on the cowboy angel part. The guy was real.

the end

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Gates of Eden by Bob Dylan (Robert Zimmerman)

Of war and peace, the truth just twists

Its curfew gull just glides

Upon four-legged forest clouds

The cowboy angel rides

With his candle lit into the sun

Though its glow is waxed in black

All except when ‘neath the trees of Eden

The lamppost stands with folded arms

Its iron claws attached

To curbs ‘neath holes where babies wail

Though it shadows metal badge

All and all can only fall

With a crashing but meaningless blow

No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden

The savage soldier sticks his head in sand

And then complains

Unto the shoeless hunter who’s gone deaf

But still remains

Upon the beach where hound dogs bay

At ships with tattooed sails

Heading for the Gates of Eden

With a time-rusted compass blade

Aladdin and his lamp

Sits with Utopian hermit monks

Sidesaddle on the Golden Calf

And on their promises of paradise

You will not hear a laugh

All except inside the Gates of Eden

Relationships of ownership

They whisper in the wings

To those condemned to act accordingly

And wait for succeeding kings

And I try to harmonize with songs

The lonesome sparrow sings

There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden

The motorcycle black Madonna

Two-wheeled gypsy queen

And her silver-studded phantom cause

The gray flannel dwarf to scream

As he weeps to wicked birds of prey

Who pick up on his bread crumb sins

And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden

The kingdoms of experience

In the precious wind they rot

While paupers change possessions

Each one wishing for what the other has got

And the princess and the prince

Discuss what’s real and what is not

It doesn’t matter inside the Gates of Eden

The foreign sun, it squints upon

A bed that is never mine

As friends and other strangers

From their fates try to resign

Leaving men wholly, totally free

To do anything they wish to do but die

And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden

At dawn my lover comes to me

And tells me of her dreams

With no attempts to shovel a glimpse

Into the ditch of what each one means

At times I think there are no words

But these to tell what’s true

And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden


A Case for Positive Emotions

I cherish and love the scattered moments of joy in my life. Joy comes to me primarily when I’m helping someone in a unique way, as long as I’m not ruining the quality of my life at the same time. I did this for 26 years as a surgical pathologist and cytopathologist. It was a typical “success” trap where a good income is your jail cell. “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

I’ve learned several useful things over the years from a broad spectrum of professors, writing gurus, and my own wall of anxiety (arising from a genetic SNP, a single-nucleotide polymorphism in my DNA that codes for my type 2 dopamine receptors).

I’m hoping to eventually work as a team with a few spiritually enclined writers who are warm-hearted, open-minded and want to make a difference in the world. Write to me here (cytopathology@gmail.com) if you think you might be interested in co-authoring something with me — fiction or nonfiction.

Here are the high points of several things I want to help you explore with me…

If you’ve read, The Talent Code, by Daniel Coyle, you know why it’s almost magical to isolate the most fundamental parts of any complex skill you want to master. The myelination of relevant axons and dendrites extending from the neurons of the cerebral cortex is the fundamental target of world-class mastery. To develop any extremely valuable skill, you have to break it down into its simplest components, things that can be practiced in a precisely repetitive way. This exact repetition is the holy grail formula because “neurons that fire together wire together.” That is to say that myelin, which can increase nerve conductivity speed by 300 percent and is produced by the oligodendroglia, is wrapped around pairs and groups of neural extensions when they fire at the same time in response to mental and/or physical activity.

If you want to master shooting a basketball, for instance, you stand close to the basket in one unchanging spot, hold your feet, knees and legs still, keep your head and shoulders stationary, grip the ball exactly the same way each time and shoot at least a hundred baskets per day using only your arms and hands. The isolation of arms and hands means there are no extraneous neurons firing and being wrapped with myelin. You’re developing a pure shooting bundle without extraneous fibers that would take away from the accuracy of the shot.

Decades ago I did a few hundred shots this way every day for several months. It transformed my terrible shooting. Later I practiced the isolated shot from various distances and had a few 3 on 3 games where I was a holy terror. I still sucked on defense, though. Some great basketball players, like Michael Jordan, practiced more complex shots this same way, bringing in the legs in a fade-away jump shot, for instance.

Believe it or not, the same principle applies to a person’s ability to feel positive emotions in daily life.

Anxiety and depression are epidemic today, at least in the US. This is partly because we believe that positive emotions come to us passively as the result of favorable life circumstances such as having plenty of money, living in the right place, having trustworthy close friends, exercising our bodies, avoiding certain addictions, and finding a higher spiritual purpose in life that leads to altruism and belonging.

All these worthy goals and several others have been studied and shown to have a statistical correlation with happiness. To various degrees, the correlations appear to be causal. For those who manage to build these wonderful circumstances into their lives (through years of intelligent effort and work), there’s an increased probability of finding happiness (or the positive emotions that define it).

But there’s another path to positive emotions. This stems from the fact that emotions are, in a very real way, like a skill that can be broken down into simple repeatable components, practiced and mastered.

When the neurons of your semi-limbic prefrontal cortex (in the left cerebral hemisphere) develop a heavily myelinated superhighway as a result of your dedicated, disciplined, daily repetitive practice of conjuring up specific good feelings, positive emotions start to flow more freely in your daily life.

With the human body, brain, and mind (because of the diversity of the underlying DNA code) once size never fits all. Iron pills, for instance, are medicine to a person with iron deficiency anemia but will become toxic to a person with hereditary hemochromatosis. I lost a wonderful friend and mentor to this disease not long ago.

So everyone will have to discover a way of practicing positive emotions that works for them.

In my efforts to increase my neuronal capacity for feeling positive emotions, I use slow breathing which shunts blood to the prefrontal cortex. At the same time, I visualize a few carefully selected positive visual images of past moments when I felt a specific positive emotion. The very last time I surfed at Rincon in Ventura, four dolphins catching a wave came close to me. They seemed to be a family of four, one of them quite small. I’ve always felt like this was God’s Universe saying goodbye to me as a surfer. I’ve never caught a wave since then, though I tried once. I picture those dolphins sometimes when I’m breathing slowly and saying the word, “love” to myself. I felt the love of those marine mammals coming my way. I can still feel it to this day.

With other mental images, I try to isolate and practice feelings of joy, love, excitement, purpose, hope, courage, compassion, thankfulness, awe, faith, trust, bliss, contentment, the sense of mastery, and the feelings of humor or hilarity.

The thing is, this principle applies to writing, too. You just have to figure out how to break things down into the simplest, most precisely repeatable components.

In Archer and Jockers book, The Bestseller Code, their computer program has discovered that best-selling novels contain scenes with powerful emotional highs that are regularly interspersed among the emotional lows of the main characters, caused by problems that we know from The Story Grid, by Shawn Coyne, create narrative drive by progressing in complexity, intensity and scope while staying relevant to the main thrust of the story.

The upward waves of Archer and Jockers’ bestseller graphs help me understand the remarkable success of the late Blake Snyder’s book Save The Cat, a screenwriting method that seems to dominate Hollywood movies now, despite being too formulaic for many if not most novel writers. Among Blake Snyder’s highly specific recommendations is the “fun-and-games” section of the story where things must go remarkably well for the protagonist in the early scenes of a movie. Creating this rule of thumb that ensures an early emotional high in a story allows a more dramatic emotional fall for the main character and the audience or readers when things go south as they must in any story.

My insight on this point is that if you want to master popular novel-writing, you should isolate, practice and develop a special skill for creating moments of positive emotion involving a spectrum of good feelings. Then you can place positive feelings throughout your novel at evenly spaced intervals, as Archer and Jockers’ computer highly recommends.

I would suggest that you also ask your beta readers to grade each page or paragraph with regard to the subjective pull they feel while they’re reading your story. If you want to get mega-nerdy, graph the Beta Readers’ data and see how it correlates with a graph of the main characters’ emotional ups and downs.

You’ll probably find that your readers score your paragraphs highest (for page-turning pull) when your characters are involved in a conflict. Like it or not, it’s a fact that no one can take their eyes off a train wreck or a street fight. We’re human.

Which brings me to the most important message I have for you as a writer.

Human minds seem to be designed to learn from stories. Western culture swims in stories from cradle to grave. Among writers, the competition to create commercially viable stories has led us to overload stories and society with the negative emotions and actions of conflict. Incidentally, our popular music does this, too.

In essence, we are practicing to become the world’s gurus of quick anger, hatred, fear, resentment, revenge (especially PC-moral-outrage revenge that justifies “winning” at all costs), and an empathy-free sense of heroism built on top of despair, loneliness, abandonment, heartbreak and an endless parade of new categories of victimhood, one for each of us to embrace.

Despite the fact that most of us live in “developed” Western countries with relatively super-rich lifestyles where, at least in the US, the real danger to our lives comes from carbohydrates, bad air (including cigarettes), and automobile accidents, we are suffering an epidemic of debilitating anxiety and depression, at least in the US and Europe. In Europe, depression among woman has doubled since the 1970’s.

As an aside, I think it may be time to stop watching and reading the so-called “news.” It’s owned and controlled by five companies with a single agenda that has nothing to do with their pseudo-war over politics where the “left versus right” versions of truth bear no resemblance to one another.

Instead, the real agenda of “the news” seems to have everything to do with transforming the citizens of powerful democracies into easily manipulable pawns who are emotionally possessed by political outrage, hatred, and fear. If this isn’t obvious to you yet, please ponder it in the back of your mind and force yourself to watch or read some of the “fake” news coming from sources that appear to support the politics you oppose. It makes no difference which side of the aisle you’re on, if you make a small effort, I think you’ll see that there are not two opposing political sides at the level of the few elites who own and control the news.

But I digress.

As fiction writers, we have the opportunity to make a deliberate effort to write stories that help humanity myelinate a more balanced set of neuronal pathways. We can do this by learning to create scenes where the positive emotions of our characters equal or outweigh the negative emotions.

Fortunately, we have good evidence now from Archer and Jockers’ computer analysis that creating emotionally balanced stories increases our odds of coming up with a bestseller.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

By the way, if you’re looking for a co-author, I may be interested in teaming up with you. Send me an email (cytopathology@gmail.com) about yourself and what you’re thinking of writing — fiction or nonfiction. I’ll give it my thoughtful consideration and let you know if I can do the project with you.

As you may know, I’m one of 19 certified Story Grid editors in the world, so I do a little SG style developmental editing (on short stories only for now). You can read about that over here: https://www.storyscopemd.com/.

 


Don’t Shoot Me in the Head

“Just don’t shoot me in the head,” I told the agent.

She pulled her gun away from my forehead, about an inch away. The right side of her mouth was smirking beyond the gun’s thick black handle.

I’d been a parapsychologist researcher at the Institute of Noetic Sciences for ten years. It’s an exciting place that was co-founded by the late astronaut, Edgar Mitchell, and now puts out some of the world’s best peer-reviewed “paranormal” science, over a thousand papers and counting. “Paranormal” will become normal, it’s only a matter of time.

My niche is the prospective study of near-death experiences. When someone is dying of natural causes and wants to become part of scientific history, we bring a level of objectivity that only prospective studies can capture. The weirder your findings, the more you need to document them. We’ve reported some incredibly strange things.

I looked into the cylinder of darkness that extended up the gun barrel and realized for the first time that I’m not afraid of death the way I was ten years ago. By now I’d seen enough to know that this life isn’t the end of consciousness.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to die and have to stop my research, or worse yet, die knowing that Brodsky would take over my work. The little troll is about as objective and rational as a two-year-old.

Despite having him breathing down my neck, I’ve been making observations that even the cult of reductive physicalists will be forced to accept someday. In light of my work and a hand full of others at the Institute, science will soon have to do a 180 and put intelligent consciousness back where it belongs, at the center of nature, not in the peripheral, illusory realm of an epiphenomenon.

I had another reason, though, for not wanting this agent to shoot me in the head. I wasn’t sure, but there seemed to be a chance that if my central nervous system was splattered across the mirrors behind me, I might miss out on my own near-death experience. My research subjects always tell me that their NDE was the most euphoric, meaningful and transformative event of their lives. I wanted to taste that richness myself, even if I didn’t live to document it for science.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” the agent said. “Think about it, though. Being shot in the head is probably the least painful way to go. Through the frontal lobes and down through the brainstem?” She angled her pistol to indicate the trajectory of her first bullet.

“Pain doesn’t concern me,” I said, realizing my words were a lie only after I’d said them.

“You’re a masochist?”

“I suppose so. That’s a good explanation.” I looked down.

She put the gun back to my forehead. “You’ve got me curious.”

When parents attach curiosity to dead cats in an effort to protect their wandering toddlers, it’s for good reason. Curiosity is the Super Glue of the mind. I now knew that this agent wouldn’t shoot me until I’d explained myself, so I asked if I could sit on the floor, and without waiting for consent, I took the liberty of squatting and then sitting on the cold, immaculate tile floor in front of her. Although she’d confronted me alone in a men’s bathroom, this particular one sparkled and had a floor that looked cleaner than the dinner plates downstairs in the establishment’s five-star restaurant.

I pulled my fake cigarette out of a coat pocket, put it in my lips and drew in a mouthful of staleness, inhaled and blew a nearly invisible puff of water vapor out the side of my mouth, politely away from her. I’ve never smoked real cigarettes, but this electronic device is often invaluable during interviews with NDE subjects. It seems to relax the atmosphere in the lab, showing the nervous hanger-on that I’m not judgmental or particularly binary. Whatever the mechanism, I’ve learned that if you want an NDE subject to give you the full details of a near-death experience without the editing and polish that we tend to see on the internet, you need to let these people see you for who and what you are, weaknesses and strengths alike. And you can’t just tell them or assure them that you’re OK, you need to show them that the person listening to them considers their concerns of sanity to be utterly irrelevant.

In the tradition of Scheherazade and the thousand tales that kept her alive, I decided to forgo the buildup I had planned, and instead opened with Mr. Santiago’s records.

“A couple of months ago, Jesus Santiago, a 72-year-old Hispanic male, came to me with less than three months to live. It was stage IV lung cancer, small cell, the worst. He’d lost his right lung. The hilar and mediastinal nodes were positive, bilateral adrenal mets, and we’d found a small brain metastasis in his cerebellum on our control MRI. Chemo hadn’t touched his disease, so he looked like a skeleton sitting there talking in drooping skin.”

The agent gave me a disgusted look. 

“All the greats who walk into my lab are like him. Just wanting to contribute something to science before they pass on.”

“So you sucked him in with a newspaper ad?”

“It was a Facebook ad, actually. They’re remarkably selective, despite this recent privacy thing.”

She sat down on the floor across from me, her head framed in one the Beverly Wilshire’s lavish urinals, and her gun arm dangling across her right knee with the pistol pointing casually at my testes.

Have you ever closed your eyes and had someone dangle a heavy knife over the bridge of your nose? You can literally feel it. This was much worse than that, but the same sort of thing.

She thrust her chin out, which meant, keep talking.

“We put Mr. Santiago in as much gentle cryo as he could tolerate and started draining his blood into a sterile plastic receptacle. You wouldn’t believe how stingy the Red Cross is with those things. I had to petition the manufacturer… But anyway, that’s essentially how we induce a near-death experience… through neuronal hypoxia, or perhaps it’s a shift from glucose to ketone bodies, we can’t rule that out yet.”

She pursed her lips in a deliberately bored expression.

“It usually works the first time,” I went on. “Every detail of the procedure is timed and controlled to make things reproducible in any lab around the world, should another researcher ever develop giant gonads like the ones you’re targeting with your pistol there. I don’t suppose you could point that thing at my chest?”

She sat like a marble statue with black lipstick.

“Anyway, Mr. Santiago slipped into the twilight zone while we recorded his flattening brainwaves and watched images of blood flow vanish from his brain via real-time fMRI. Bless the geeks who invented that machine, it’s a miracle of technology, really.”

There was a thump on the bathroom door. I looked over hoping no one would walk in and rescue me before I was done with the story.

The agent didn’t so much as glance at the door.

“Make it fast,” she said. “Looks like we’re passionate lovers this time. I’ll do the talking.”

I abbreviated things a bit, but pointed out that when Mr. Santiago’s EEG went flat, his heart had stopped and there was no discernible evidence of blood flow or glucose uptake in his brain, we cooled him further and set the timer to let us know when to bring him back. Four minutes is my routine to avoid permanent brain damage.

A half-hour later, Jesus was fully with us again, eyes wide, telling us of his dead relatives, the brightness of the scenery, the loving euphoria he’d felt in that realm, and an odd message he’d been sent back to this life to tell me.

The agent rolled her eyes.

I put on my game face and said that Mr. Santiago had gone on about how the work I was doing could transform the world if it ever penetrated the minds of the religious zealots in charge of science. He said that universal and personal consciousness need to be brought into the fold of real things worth studying. In this way, and in no other, he said, would humanity someday learn to overcome fear, aggression, and hatred, eventually to replace these destructive things with normal compassion, affection, and some degree of genuine love. He looked iffy on the love projection.

“How sweet,” the agent said, her eyes still stone.

Then I told her that the NDE client had warned me that there would be three attempts on my life by the CIA. He was apologetic as he described all three in detail and told me that the third one would come from a woman who went by the name, Angie.

“I assume that’s you?” I asked.

She didn’t respond.

“He told me to tell you that a being whom he referred to as God said that everyone who’s ever lived must experience life in a brain like yours, a brain without the capacity for empathy. He said to tell you that you won’t be trapped in this condition forever, so don’t lose hope.”

“You have inside connections,” the agent said. “It’s funny that the CIA would want to kill you.”

“I have no connections. Mr. Santiago told me to let you know that your mother is sorry for burning your fingers… when she caught you with matches? You were five, staying overnight in the Stardust Motel. He said you’d pretend not to remember. Is that what you’re doing?”

The agent drew in a breath and held it.

“Your mother was like you,” I told her, “stuck in a brain with little capacity for empathy or compassion.”

“I’ve never told anyone about the matches,” the agent said with a fresh hint of perplexity in her flawless young face.

“He also said you have a small mass the size of a garden pea in your left breast. Your nodes are still negative so you’ll need to have it removed as soon as possible. It’s malignant, high-grade with a high mitotic rate. My advice would be to have it removed at a large center where the surgeons and pathologists know how to handle margins properly. Many places don’t.”

She transferred the gun to her left hand, put her gun hand up her blouse and examined her right breast.

“I don’t feel anything,” she said.

“It’s on the left,” I reminded her.

Her hand moved to the other breast and in less than a second her eyes became fearful.

“It’s still pretty small,” I said. “Completely resectable for a cure, I was told.”

Tears suddenly fell from the outer corners of her eyes. She put her gun away, reached over and loosened my necktie, untucked my shirt and kissed my lips, deliberately smearing some of her black lipstick on my chin with her fingers after the kiss.

The bathroom door clicked open a moment later, and a red-haired man with keys on a ring and a Hotel logo on his lapel stepped in and looked at us with humble surprise.

The agent looked up at him and must have changed her ruse to take advantage of her tears. “We just found out that our little boy has a brain tumor. He’s only five years old!” She burst into heaving sobs, only to regain composure in a moment and say to the man, “I’m sorry. This was the only place I could find to break the news to my husband in private.” She leaned forward, put her arms around me and buried her face against me. Her crying sounded genuine.

I closed my eyes and kept my mouth shut the way she’d told me.

The man fumbled with his keys, apologized for the intrusion and said he’d leave the out-of-order sign up for as long as we needed it. He said he totally understood and would pray for our son. Then he closed the door and locked it.

“Thank you, sir,” the agent sputtered to the locked door.

I kept my eyes shut as we held each other for what seemed several minutes. Then she stopped crying and looked at me again, staring into my eyes at close range. I wasn’t sure if she might kiss me again or pull her gun out and shoot me.

“I don’t know how any of this is possible,” she said. “I’m trained and talented at spotting lies. You’re telling the truth if I’m any judge at all.” She sat up and put her right hand over her left breast on the outside of her blouse this time. “And here’s the physical evidence.”

Her face looked pale now.

“On the practical side,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, “you’ll always know exactly where to find me if you need to shoot me.” I intended to chuckle but couldn’t. “But please,” and this part I said soberly, “whatever you do, don’t shoot me in the head.” I looked around at the urinals, over at a triad of privately enclosed stalls with marble walls to the ceiling, and managed a chuckle.

“Shoot you?” she said. “God, no. I’m going to protect you, Doctor Salinger. For the rest of your life and probably mine.”

That makes three agents protecting me now. Two men and one unusually attractive woman. Physically attractive, at least. Perhaps my research would survive the CIA’s strange opposition to it.

We helped each other up off the floor and hugged, this time without her tears. When I broke the hug, she asked, “Did Mr. Santiago’s God mean that my brain could change in this lifetime?”

I looked at the floor.

“Or do I have to wait for the next?”

 

 

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD