Intelligent Design by ET’s

Here’s a controversial comment I left today on Richard Dolan’s website in the members section. It awaits approval there, but not here…

“The fact that [unknown] craft are flying around Earth is not a subject for science — it’s a subject for intelligence-gathering, collection and analysis. That’s because UFOs are not a natural phenomenon, and that’s what science studies.” — Dr. Eric W. Davis

Assuming this quote is accurate, you might think Dr. Davis’ definition of science excludes disciplines like archeology, paleontology and anthropology because they study artifacts and behaviors of intelligent beings (humans).

But to me, humans and our artifacts are part of the natural phenomena that science rightly explores, even if these fields of soft science are plagued by creative storytelling and various worldview biases.

Humans are a special part of nature, arising amidst multiple synergies that cannot be appreciated through reduction of the species to science’s narrow-minded list of possible common denominators: matter and energy.

As everyone probably knows, scientific materialism is the assumption that nothing exists besides matter and energy. This is an untestable assumption and therefore holding it as dogma is not in the spirit of science. And yet it’s somehow considered unquestionable truth by the vast majority of academia.

To be objective about this, it’s noteworthy that all non-materialistic worldviews, as best I know, are likewise based on untestable, unscientific assumptions. So holding them as unquestionable scientific dogma would also violate the core of science.

And yet mainstream “retail” science clings to one untestable assumption and refuses to allow exploration of the implications of the others.

If humans are part of nature, why wouldn’t ET’s also be? As a non-materialist, I would include here all possible and seemingly impossible forms of ET’s — the material, “interdimensional,” the “spiritual,” and those inconceivable forms that no human has the capacity to imagine as yet.

It seems clear to me that science should study all ET’s, as best it can, roughly the way it now struggles to objectively study ancient human history and human origins.

So I’d have to respectfully disagree with Dr. Davis on his idea that UFO’s should be the sole domain of the intelligence community, though I value this man’s well-informed opinions and admit that my views could be wrong. I often am wrong. I suspect we all are.

The problem seems to be that the scientific community denies any possibility of ET contact with Earth. The distances are too great. (Yawn.)

Science no longer denies the probable existence of ET’s “out there somewhere.” They’re just not here yet.

“There is no evidence of alien intelligence coming to Earth,” they assure us, as if they missed the DOD’s UFO disclosure. Sure, there’s no proof the UFOs are associated with ET’s, but there’s plenty of evidence for it. The very existence of UFOs is evidence of ET’s. Not proof, but evidence. Maybe some people don’t see a distinction between evidence and proof.

Science has a documented history of knee-jerk rejection and denial when it comes to new ideas, big and small. Most, if not all, scientific breakthroughs were met with denial and ridicule initially. The greater the eventual sea-change needed to absorb the new idea or technology, the greater the initial political and monetary roadblocks thrown up against the new item.

Nowhere is this emotional pathology clearer today than in the food fight between the “real” scientists of neo-Darwinian evolution and the so-called “pseudoscientists” who want to explore the genetic evidence of evolution by intelligent design. (These people are not pseudoscientists, by the way.)

Outrage reduces this discussion to name calling, ridicule and dismissal without addressing the logic of the issues. This is because those on the ID side often use the evidence of intelligent design to support a spiritual worldview, typically a Judeo-Christian worldview.

Materialistic science seems to viscerally hate all “spiritual” worldviews, especially the ones attached to the Crusades, the Salem Witch Hunts, ancient book burnings, the persecution and murder of great Western scientists, and so on. Perhaps materialistic science also fears spirituality because it might “drag humanity back into the dark ages.” I’ve heard this concern and nowadays I share it in view of the college crowds apparently abandoning logic by turning objective truth and reality into a subjective matter along with a cancellation of two-sided discussions. “My truth, your truth, so shut up and don’t trigger me or I’ll cancel you.”

Meanwhile, objective ufologists interested more in reality than in winning arguments also ignore the powerful ET evidence hidden in the literature of intelligent design.

We should read this work. I recommend, “Signature in the Cell,” by Stephen Meyer, PhD. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qpAXEicJVsu1JkzuVsnu4pvGA4kN8LUyUOzlxV7JybA/edit

Yes, brilliant, vociferous, self-confident ID critics abound. All the more reason to read the ID scientists’ work for ourselves, I would suggest.

Once enough of us wade through a bit of the ID literature and math, some of us may come to realize that intelligent design is a respectable scientific theory that would be mainstream science in an unbiased scientific world.

Moreover, the UFO community might become able to articulate exactly why the human genome is far too complex, irreducibly woven into the complex nano-machines that the code generates, and far too teleologically information-based to have arisen by random mutation, genetic drift and natural selection in a universe that’s only 13.8 billion years old.

On the other hand, I think any thoughtful person would admit that IF the universe is infinitely old, infinitely vast, or accompanied by an infinite number of randomly-tuned parallel universes, then neo-Darwinian macroevolution, (ignoring the “irreducible complexity” issues) could account for at least some carbon-based life forms. (Not that “irreducible complexity” can be rationally ignored. See Michael Behe, “Darwin’s Black Box” for a discussion of irreducible biological complexity.) https://www.amazon.com/Darwins-Black-Box-Biochemical-Challenge/dp/0743290313

But currently mainstream science insists that the universe is finite in size and merely 13.8 billion years old. So until they change their minds…

Let’s assume these concepts are accurate for now and point out that given these mainstream “facts,” science is almost certainly mistaken about the notion that Earth’s DNA came into existence through random forces without intelligent interference or guidance.

Because it’s relevant to Ufology.

In perfect analogy to mainstream science’s dismissal of UFOs as unworthy of study, anyone wishing to determine if intelligent design is worthy of scientific study must READ the ID literature before rejecting it. This sounds simple, but it is hard to do objectively when every scientific article we read attaches some aspect of the neo-Darwinian myth to the interpretation of new data, assuming the random origins story is unquestionable fact, when it’s not.

Darwin’s origins story is a myth based upon interpreting observations through the untestable lens of scientific materialism. It assumes mindless forces acting randomly on a planet that intelligent ETs have never touched. This lens of denial has kept the mainstream’s random origins story circulating long after it should be obsolete.

While religious people jump on intelligent design science to support the existence of God, the UFO community seems to be ignoring the ID literature’s relevance to ETs. Without mentioning God, the isolated theory of intelligent design quite logically and powerfully implicates ET’s in at least some of the coding of Earth’s DNA.

ID science is young, but it’s alive and well. We who are open to UFO science would be wise to educate ourselves in this hidden branch of scientific knowledge. It could widen the scientific foundation of objective ufology, and perhaps broaden the scientific horizons of the true believers in “scientific” materialism.

Full disclosure: Although I have a science background (a retired MD, with AP/CP pathology boards and cytopathology subspecialty boards) I believe in the scientifically Untestable assumption of a benevolent personal Supreme Being (or Beings), and I find myself praying a lot for the people I love. Just as the Untestable assumption of “scientific” materialism (a huge misnomer) dominates and colors the worldview of most scientists today, once a person like me goes down the path of the Untestable non-materialistic assumptions I have taken to heart, the loving and personal Supreme Being (or Beings, perhaps?) dominates your worldview. Nevertheless, I strive to be objective and don’t belong to any church, synagogue, mosque or CE-5 group. I know of no spiritual group that would accept me into their fold without a radical revision of my beliefs, except perhaps in some exceedingly generous way within the spirit of transcendent love, the spirit of objective Ufology, I’d like to believe.

Beaming you love,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

 


The sex sense – an alien perspective on love and reductionism

I took an Excedrin for the morning’s headache, got back in bed and did some Wim Hof Migraine Breathing. Three cheers for our pal, Mr. Hof!!! The pain vanished, and the caffeine took me back to the words of my dear mother, God rest her soul.

“We live in a sex cult.”

Yeah, right out of the blue. I must have been in college when she confided this opinion to me. It was the second and last time she ever mentioned the word “sex,” if memory serves. She was born in 1916, and her slant on the subject was alien to my generation.

Like any geek Boomer, I found myself wondering what a legitimately advanced alien might say about sex.

Soon my imagination made contact with a species so advanced she looked like an angel. I just listened…

“Because human intelligence is quite severely limited, you believe you must break down complex things into their parts to understand them. And so reductionism has become a hindrance to science, barring a deeper understanding of the complex synergies that animate relationships from the quantum level to the galactic.

“Through reduction, the narrow focus of the left hemisphere, one can grasp only the simplest phenomena. To move beyond your primitive ignorance, a species must rise above the trees and gaze down upon the synergies of the forest, resisting the left hemisphere’s angry denial of the unknown.

“To the letter, you might stop killing your trees. They would return Earth’s lost oxygen and eventually elevate human intelligence to something realistic. Cruelly has the solar influence delivered you into the last dozen millennia.

“Your Sun is a beautiful scoundrel, even so. She erupts and snatches a little more atmosphere each time. The last tantrum cut the oxygen from 45 to 20 percent, your intelligence and lifespans similarly. Old stories are myth, yes, but worthless myth to the blind alone.

“And Sir, by extrapolation, my species has been at the table for six and a half trillion Earth years. I would think you might remove the scowl from your face and listen.

“Some of us ask ourselves, what bewitches the latest humans of Earth?

“An answer lies beneath the tenth of the human senses. The sacred sense.

“One might quibble with these as primary, but the mind is synergy and cannot be accurately dissected. Here are the primary human senses, then.

  1. Sight
  2. Sound
  3. Smell
  4. Taste
  5. Touch
  6. Balance
  7. Body position and continuity
  8. Temperature
  9. Self
  10. Orgasm
  11. Fairness
  12. Intuitive good and evil

“The weakest of these is perhaps smell. The most influential might be the tenth, orgasm.

“Throughout the universe of intelligent life-forms, orgasm envelopes the love of a lasting relationship. This is the norm most everywhere.

“Sadly, humans reduce it to the chemistry of a meaningless act, separate from love, even opposing it.

“Orgasm is the human’s only sacred sense. You have chopped it into kindling, killed its magic and rendered it hollow, common and dirty.

“If humanity would survive, you must reject the angry, narrow leadership of the left hemisphere. Leave behind your species’ obsession with reductionism.

“Just as ‘The Tao that can be spoken is not the true Tao’, even so, love, the sacred sense of the Universe, cannot be spoken, told, inspected, described, or even authentically named outside of the wordless understanding of the soul.

“Attempting to dismantle synergy into some testable denominator is wholly absurd. Reserve reduction for simple binary issues. Slide it back into the small slot beneath the infinite angle of your intuitive, inductive awareness. Follow the natural leadership of the right hemisphere and learn the sacred custom of the 10th primary sense, the language and voice of enlightenment through transcendent love.”

Bring me a higher love,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

(Share this with someone?)


Enoch’s Last Truth

The Angel took Enoch up in a spaceship over the mountains of a beautiful land that would someday be called Zimbabwe. In front of them now, hidden within a hollowed-out granite fortress, was one of the Watcher’s four Earth bases. Enoch took a mental picture.

Over the years, he had been inside all four of the angels’ Earth bases. The main one was below ground in a once densely forested area that would later become The Great Victoria Desert of Central-Western Australia.

There was also a small base built into a cold mass of dark granite that would eventually receive the name, Mount Hayes, Alaska.

The angels had hidden their fourth base nearer Enoch’s home, deep inside a lime cliff in a mountain range that would someday be called the Pyrenees.

Enoch’s Angel friend, the Watcher Naomi, wore a white tunic and usually went barefoot, though her feet were peeking out of living sandals today. Her teeth were always the first thing he noticed whenever they met, they were perfect, unlike anything he had seen in an adult human.

The Angel leaned back on a soft sky blue couch in front of a wall, a bulkhead that radiated white granular light. Enoch sat on the edge of a red chaise lounge across from her, a narrow black table on the floor between.

“There’s a nice Earth-sized planet not far,” she said. “When your people are ready, we hope you’ll-”

“Wait.” After years of friendship, Enoch felt comfortable interrupting her. “You said every possible worldviews is inaccurate. I’m sorry, but that idea is drilling a hole in my head. Trying to get out , I think. Could we go over it again?”

The angel looked a little concerned but proceeded. “Consider the earth and understand from the work done upon her, from the beginning to the end, no work of God changes as it becomes manifest.”

“I’m not following.”

“The Universe is neither real nor unreal,” she said. “At its highest magnification and sharpest reduction, it remains both genuine and illusory.” Her eyes seemed to call for comprehension. Enoch felt none. “And if any of that feels logical to you, you’re in the wrong universe.” She laughed and gave him a reassuring smile.

Enoch’s mind went fuzzy as her words sifted through it. “But if what you’re saying is true, any worldview would be as good as the next.”

“Wake up.” She leaned forward and touched his forehead for the third time that morning, an uncharacteristically rude gesture that now seemed to sharpen his mind. Perhaps it wasn’t a gesture at all.

She leaned back and sank into the yielding matrix of the couch. “To avoid a war of extinction, your species needs a specific belief system that’s literally set in stone. They must have structured practices that train and ingrain a reflexive forgiveness of all suffered and imagined wrongs. And their loving kindness must create no lethal options for an enemy.”

“I hear your words, but if the ultimate view of the universe can only be a false picture, I don’t imagine the details matter much.”

“For Heaven’s sake, it’s hot in here?” She twisted and reached behind her for a glass ball that floated near the wall. “Are you hot?”

This was always a rhetorical question. Enoch kept his mouth respectfully shut.

She tapped on the top of the ball with a polished fingernail and turned back to him. “Now listen. Your comprehension is not essential. The nature of this worldview is all that matters. The new one I hope to impart to your people must be unshakable. The details cannot self-contradict and invite scholarly criticism.”

Enoch hadn’t factored scholars into any of this. Those people seemed to hate anything less tentative than an abused child. “Do you think claims of infallibility would be wise, then? God hasn’t actually said anything to you about the nature of things, right?”

She nodded as her toes curled down over the front edges of her sandals. “We must be economical with the truth when there isn’t any,” she said. “Since empirical data contradicts itself, the truth is intrinsically hidden. We can only assume that God has limited our reasoning abilities in some fundamental way.”

“And yet nothing would help us more than a reasonable understanding of God’s Universe.” Enoch sighed. Why would God select an opaque universe for us? What had we done to deserve such a thing? “To be clear, though. All claims of worldview infallibility must be false. This is what you’re saying and you’re sure it’s accurate?”

“Yes.” She drew her palms together. “Fundamental reality appears not only to be beyond comprehension, it’s beyond anyone’s imagination.” The muscles of her broad shoulders slumped beneath her white gown. “Our only infallible claim, if you insist on the term, is that all the empirical evidence available to us suggests that reality is irreducibly baffling.”

Enoch had always felt pleasantly trapped by her superior intellect, but now that he was staring into the limits of it, he had another feeling, doubt.

“In a sense,” she said, “if you accept the view that any falsehood requires a converse truth, then no worldview is a lie. None of them has a correspondingly opposite truth. All grand-scale views are orphans, any of which might grow to be king.”

“You’re saying, if everything’s a lie, then nothing is.” Enoch grunted in frustration. “And I’m supposed to believe this? Have you asked yourself where your fundamental capitulation leads?” But he knew deep down that she was always right. And so the gravity of her revelation began to pull an abstract sorrow down over him.

Eye hath not seen nor ear heard,” the Angle replied, “neither hath it entered into the heart of man.”

But lies were wrong.  Rationalizing them was to invite disease.

“Let’s say that for the sake of a far, far greater good, I am able to overcome my disgust with the spreading of falsehoods. After all, I do trust you implicitly, Naomi, and if you say that some particular false view of things would help others overcome their lust for war, at least I believe that you believe it. Perhaps I even believe it myself now. But say I do, for sure. What outcome would you foresee?”

“Ultimately, once your people are no longer a danger to themselves and to all creatures in the wake of their behavior, the Watchers would hope to help your entire species move far away from the blast zone of your star.” She glanced toward the morning sun. “Before the next micronova, I should say. Your people have seven thousand years until the next wave comes through and sets the devil on the loose. It’s not much time, I know, but we are hopeful.” Her eyes sobered in on Enoch’s skepticism. “Actually, my friend, I am the one with genuine hope. My colleagues say your people show no justification for hope.” She picked up a small stick, ignited the end of it with her gaze and held it down against the side of an incense block on the bare tabletop between them. “But what do they know? None of them met your ancestors. Those people, the ones in India, were on the verge of loving kindness before the last micronova sent them back… into caves and starvation. I was not permitted to help them. The Council admits the mistake now and has formally apologized to me, as if that fixes everything.”

Enoch’s head was spinning. “What was that about a solar eruption?”

“You don’t remember India? Years ago?”

“I remember our flight, but–”

“No fears.” She gazed above his head and as he turned to see what held her attention, the small rectangular opening in the front of the ship expanded until a third of the bow was invisible. “Take another look, old seer man.”

Beyond the invisible bow, a vast structure of intricately carved stone rose from the bottom of a huge basalt pit with vertical walls. The builders, whomever they were, had carved full-sized elephants and full-hipped dancers into every surface of the solid-rock monuments. Some of the dancers had joyous stone bodies with multiple sets of arms, but some of them held a stern expression. The closer he looked, the less human some of their faces appeared.

The Angel picked up the smoldering incense block and inhaled the smoke through her nose. “These celebrators of life were thousands of years ahead of anyone before or after them.”

Enoch wondered how these people could have been happy and yet so scantly clothed. The bare chest was wrong in public. These carvings were bare and sensual.

“When the oceans receded after the sun’s third eruption, a handful of survivors from beneath the rocks came out with the remnants of their technology. They migrated west, settled in north Africa and built the underground realms of Egypt. As the last of their tools ground to a halt, they completed a monument encoding the sun’s eruption history. I’m sure I told you all this. Right here, nine years ago.”

The ornate stone miracle of India moved away rapidly, and an old tan pyramid of limestone rushed at them menacingly but stopped short of smashing their ship. Now it stood filling their view like a proud mountain.

“This is a shadow of her original glory,” the Angel said, “but the builders cared nothing for show, only for permanence. They needed a structure to stand as a warning forever, or until the continents sank again beneath the seas. It’s a regular affair on this planet.”

Enoch remembered no mention of sinking continents, though this brick pyramid seemed familiar. Was he getting old and forgetful? He tried to tell himself he wasn’t, and it didn’t matter anyway.

Then he imagined himself lying to his family about some new worldview, trying to pass it off as the infallible truth from God. The idea made his skin crawl. He couldn’t do such a thing. He wouldn’t do it.

Over the years he had suffered for the sake of honesty, especially with his son, Methuselah. In retrospect now, though, he sometimes wished he’d hidden more from the boy. More of the world’s harsh realities and all of his own spiritual doubts. But mostly he wished he’d hidden his fears. If only he had pretended to be more certain of the sacred teachings, his little boy, a grown man now, might not have become so prone to trouble and sadness. So absorbed by poppies, mushrooms, and Soothsayers.

“Think of what you’re saying.” Enoch felt suddenly unable to match the Angel’s politeness. “You want me to go down there and lie to my wife and children? Fabricate some idealistic lie that you hope will be clever enough to withstand scrutiny for thousands of years.” Tears threatened and seemed to silence him.

“No, my beloved,” she said, leaning across the table and taking his hand. “You know too much to argue or to judge, let alone bear false witness to your family. Your influence there would ruin everything… all chances of your people’s eventual transformation.”

Her words, though spoken kindly, felt cruel. Enoch had poured all his years into helping the Watcher Naomi. How could she call him a hopeless failure and a detriment to everything?

“How would I ruin things for you?” he asked. “My views are in harmony with yours, which are, evidently, entirely beyond any possibility of either correctness or being corrected. Have I wasted my entire life for you, Naomi?”

“You are a hero and a champion. The truth is the only one who has failed. An honest man who knows the truth… that within a simulation all possible worldviews can only be inaccurate… such a man is not a failure or a problem.”

“With you, first it’s one thing, then the opposite. You’re making no sense.”

“Unfortunately, the truth as we understand it offers no bond with love and benevolence. No higher purpose worth devotion and life. A higher truth is what your people need, an unbreakable worldview that ties them to love, trust and trustworthiness. A worldview such as this can change the heart and the behavior. Nothing else can, especially among primitives.” She stepped over the table and sat beside him. “Your people are extreme primitives. I’m sorry, but this is their unfortunate status.”

She let out a breath and turned to a topaz platter materializing beside her on the red chaise lounge. From it, she lifted two bending glasses of pink fluid, grasping them each by the bottom as they finished an upward entanglement from a digital realm that Enoch couldn’t understood despite several descriptions of the mechanisms involved. Naomi the Angel extended one glass to Enoch. He took it reflexively. “You’ve finished your work. A man of your integrity could not germinate a lie to his family and friends. Nor to his enemies. Though all of their lives desperately depended upon it.” She sipped her drink as he gazed down at the small rising bubbles in his glass. “That’s why I love you, Enoch. Unfortunately, it’s also the reason you can never return home now.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, my friend. So very sorry. You’ll have to put up with me and my people for a long time, it seems. The Council has declared it. Your character has been evaluated and confirmed. You will become an immortal, in simulation terms.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Enoch was torn. He would never see his wife again. Her heart would break and tears drive her to the grave. His son, on the other hand, would be better off without him. He missed him already, but when was the last time he’d come home?

“And what am I now?” Enoch said to his Angel, the Great Watcher, Naomi. “Your house pet? A diplomatic figurehead?” Or an Angel’s tired out lover?

And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him. Genesis 5:24

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Free Will – a Dog’s Perspective

 

“Wake up, Barnabus.”

 

“Wow, I was solid gone. Like that one bear….”

 

“In Jungle Book? I think that was Baloo.”

 

“He should have danced all night.”

 

“So what’s the difference… between being awake and asleep?”

 

“Consciousness comes back when you wake up.”

 

“What’s consciousness?”

 

“That’s easy. Consciousness is a three-part nonlocal quantum entanglement between
(a) the information coded in the aromatic hydrocarbon walls of the microtubules that sit inside the pyramidal neurons of your cerebral cortex, plus
(b) that same neuronal structure in all the other dogs, and
(c) the coded information coming to us in the Cosmic Background Radiation. Dogs call it the Field of Consciousness.”

 

“Really? Who’s sending the information?”

 

“Us. It mostly comes from our Real Selves outside the simulated, physical Universe.”

 

“Mostly?”

 

Mostly.

 

“But, there’s also the Code Writer sending us messages and free will. Free will is kind of nice. It lets you ask questions and see if you like the answers.”

 

“Can you see the Field of Consciousness?”

 

“Not quite. It’s information radiation. That rimes! It also brings genetic code into the Universe through nonlocal quantum entanglement with the aromatic hydrocarbons in the base pairs of DNA. You know, the digital ladder rungs? That’s how original genetic design gets into the universe. It’s the mechanism humans haven’t discovered yet.”

 

“But Francine, isn’t the Cosmic Background Radiation just radio static from the Big Bang?”

 

“To local detectors, yes. But to nonlocal detectors with stacked benzyl architectures designed for quantum entanglement, the random static of the Field of Consciousness becomes coded information. Even a puppy’s neuronal network decodes it effortlessly.”

 

“But all this talk of freedom… I need a nap.”

Love from beyond,

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD

Thanks to the photographers at Unsplash for these precious doggie pictures.


“To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom.” – Socrates

The picture of the Jewish Women and Children above is from a group of 1,684 Jews, of whom 1,670 survived the ride to Switzerland aboard the Kasztner train in 1944. The man who made this possible was Rezső Kasztner.

He sounds like a hero to me, but some people want more than results, they demand documentation of faultlessness, or else.

An Israeli judge, Benjamin Halevy, found Rezső Kasztner guilty of “selling his soul to the devil.” The Judge decided that Kasztner didn’t warn other Jews to flee. Kasztner’s motive was supposedly to selfishly save a “smaller number of Jews,” including his family and friends.

An angry citizen, acting on one-sided publicity and outrage, assassinated Rezső Kasztner in 1957.

Judge Halevy was appointed to the Supreme Court of Israel in 1963, but before that…

The Supreme Court of Israel posthumously exonerated Kasztner in 1958. One of those judges, Shneur Zalman Cheshin, wrote this:

“On the basis of the extensive and diverse material which was compiled in the course of the hearing, it is easy to describe Kastner as ‘blacker than black’ and place the mark of Cain on his forehead, but it is also possible to describe him as purer than the driven snow and regard him as ‘the righteous of our generation.’ A man who exposed himself to mortal danger in order to save others.” — Shneur Zalman Cheshin of the Israeli Supreme Court, 1958

Erwin Lutzer, the author of When a Nation Forgets God, quotes a German man…

“I lived in Germany during the Nazi Holocaust. I considered myself a Christian. We heard stories of what was happening to the Jews, but we tried to distance ourselves from it because what could anyone do to stop it? A railroad track ran behind our church, and each Sunday morning we could hear the whistle in the distance and then wheels coming over the tracks. We became disturbed as we heard the cries coming from the train as it passed by. We realized that it was carrying Jews like cattle in the cars. Week after week the whistle would blow. We dreaded to hear the sound of those wheels because we knew that we could hear the cries of the Jews on route to a death camp. Their screams tormented us. We knew the time the train was coming and when we heard the whistle blow, we began singing hymns. By the time the train came past our church, we were singing at the top of our voices. If we heard the screams, we sang more loudly and soon we heard them no more. Years have passed, and no one talks about it anymore. But I still hear that train whistle in my sleep. God forgive me. Forgive all of us who called ourselves Christians and yet did nothing to intervene.” — When a Nation Forgets God, 7 lessons we must learn from Nazi Germany, by Erwin W. Lutzer.

Is there a lesson for us in this?

What is it?

Dangerous Love,

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.


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


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.

 

 


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.


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


Black-and-white thinking? Come on, we ALL do it!

I’ve thought for a long time that black-and-white thinking is one of humanity’s biggest problems. But trying to eradicate it with more black-and-white thinking is just ridiculous.

When I was a medical student doing a psychiatry rotation, I noticed that all the white coats, myself included, had a powerful desire to be seen as absolutely NORMAL.

The feeling came out of nowhere the first day we started seeing psych patients. Some of them weren’t free to leave the building. There was an unspoken fear that we caregivers might be, in some unseen way, indistinguishable from the patients. It was both a subtle and a consuming motivation that made everyone subconsciously try to act and speak as if they were hyper-normal in every conceivable dimension.

I’ve rarely felt anything like it since.

In those days on the psych wards, one big sign of derangement to avoid was “magical thinking,” which meant believing in anything that wasn’t established by science or grounded in secular Western middle-class society.

Since LLUMC was a religious institution, Christianity was begrudgingly considered OK on the psych wards, or at least not necessarily equal to magical thinking… unless the patient thought he or she had an unusual religious purpose in life such as being Jesus Christ, a delusion that was said to be “not uncommon.”

Between the lines, we knew that any “visions of grandeur” might put us at risk of being too similar to the inpatients. And while there was no chance of being locked up for it, a med student couldn’t hope to pass a psych rotation where the people evaluating you thought you were basically nuts.

So if anyone had a personal relationship with God that meant everything to them, as I did (and still do), she or he had to be careful to tuck it away along with any secret hopes of someday becoming objectively great by doing extremely valuable work in the world.

And of course, some of us tried to down-size our ambitions and become genuinely satisfied with the psych ward’s prescribed mediocrity.

That never worked for me. I couldn’t escape my burning desire to do something great. I still can’t.

But to this day I’d never admit such a grandiose hope to a shrink. Only to you.

I wonder if the new boogeyman for med students on psych rotations today is black-and-white thinking.

It’s finally becoming a mainstream negative, which would be a good thing if it were opposed logically rather than in binary terms, such as the current “normal versus borderline personality disorder” dichotomy and other B&W approaches.

If you want to really insult a thinking analytic person, say that she’s a black-and-white thinker. The accusation is powerful and leaves a red mark.

It usually comes with the assumption that black-and-white thinking is always narrow-minded and inappropriate.

But it ain’t necessarily so…

Simple arithmetic, for instance, is black-and-white. No one will accuse you of B&W narrow-mindedness if you lower your guard and admit that you believe one and one equals two.

But with imaginary numbers (i.e., the “lie” that a negative number can have a square root), math itself enters a gray zone with the letter “i” keeping track of imaginary calculations.

So math starts out black and white but, like fiction, merges truth with imagination. Neither math nor fiction is really lying because the letter “i” and the word “novel” tell us we’re sort of pretending. Both explore the human experience by merging black-and-white foundations with a story written in symbols.

Physics is similar. When you calculate a coefficient of friction in a college Physics lab, it’s black-and-white Newtonian work. But if you’re ever trying to decide which version of string theory clashes the least with your classical Einsteinian bias, you’re quickly up to your eyeballs in shades of gray and spectrums of color.

Ironically, the popular all-or-none belittlement of B&W thinking, typified by the picture above, misses all the boring details of reality and winds up in subtle hypocrisy where the only black-and-white thinking it allows is its own binary criticism of black-and-white thinking.

Splitting humanity into “black-and-white thinkers” and “normal in-color thinkers” may be useful to some shrinks, I guess, but for the rest of us, it’s often used as a polarizing weapon to belittle people and silence unwelcome ideas.

Case in point…

To convince people that there’s no such thing as good and evil, some have associated good and evil with the dreaded black-and-white thinking. Some have claimed that the scientific version of Deity (the Intelligent Mind within the Quantum Field) isn’t concerned with such black-and-white matters as good and evil.

But does this make sense?

Can the rape of a child, for instance, be seen as morally neutral in the eyes of an intelligent Universe and the Mind that fills it?

Perhaps the Quantum Mind of God is not as preoccupied with negative judgments as our fading Western traditions tell us.

But this Mind is smart enough to write original DNA code. We are the products of that code. Most of us feel deep empathy for suffering children.

How then could the Code Writer be incapable of empathy, or reject the truest words to describe our human predicament: good and evil?

The best thing about humans is our capacity for compassion and empathy. These traits simply must have been written into our DNA by Someone who knew them. But we’re supposed to believe that the Code Writer is a stranger to empathy and suffering? Too broad-minded to see the difference between right and wrong?

This kind of thinking isn’t rational.

While black-and-white thinking is obviously one of humanity’s greatest limitations, the binary mindset that now pretends to oppose it is unwittingly promoting it by using shame to paint negative emotions on unwelcome ideas.

The situation is analogous to William Cooper’s old videos from the 1990’s where evil attempts to overcome evil. His conspiracy theory describes secret societies that plan to rid the world of evil by killing billions of people with viruses, then following up with a “benevolent” dictatorship run by the murderers.

But fighting fire with fire doesn’t work in the realm of good and evil. A pretty ending can’t overcome an ugly plot.

Morrill Talmage Moorehead, MD


Stasis (Chapter 8) “Hapa Girl DNA” by M. Talmage Moorehead

Is it me, or is it a little unnerving to find the words, “United States” inside a UFO?

With two time-frozen men in hoods.

stock-photo-the-man-with-no-face-over-dark-background-15638068

Generations ago, Ojiichan saw a Japanese boy in a black hood flying a Zero toward Pearl Harbor.

That same Sunday a second-generation Japanese-American guy named Daniel took offence to the bombing of his island.

He dropped school and quit his job to become eligible for the Army, but got classified 4-C…

Enemy Alien.

He never gave up trying to get in, and finally, under the novel influence of logic and reason, D.C. allowed 4-C’s to fight.

Shortly thereafter, Daniel met a strange warrior.

In this photo, the phenotype is evident in his right eye, forever determined.

First_Lt_Daniel_Inouye

“If you must give your life, do so with honor,” Daniel’s father told him.

In combat, Daniel became a legend. Near the end of his fighting career he found himself prying a live grenade from his own nerve-dead right hand and lobbing it at the enemy with the accuracy of his left.

Then, after an insane one-man charge, right arm useless and dangling, gut shot with an exit wound near the spine, propped against a tree to take pressure off the bullet in his leg, Daniel noticed his men catching up, thinking to carry him from the field before he bled to death.

“Nobody called off the war,” he growled, and ordered them back.

These things are documented. All the witnesses from the Japanese-American 442nd Regiment recounted the details of his bulletproof confidence, the innate tactical genius, the deadly absence of fear. One of my own relatives fought in the 442nd.

Daniel lost his arm, but not before delivering the message of Samurai DNA…

“Honor alone defeats the sociopath.”

Thirty-three of Hitler’s hardened troops saw the signature in the cell that day.

Later, when Daniel became Senator Daniel Inouye of Hawaii and found himself in the heated Iran-Contra hearings where a US President was accused of unconstitutional behavior, our elected Samurai said…

“[There exists] a shadowy government with its own air force, its own navy, its own fundraising mechanism, and the ability to pursue its own ideas of the national interest, free from all checks and balances and free from the law itself.”

Until now I refused to connect those words to President Eisenhower’s warning of 1961…

“The prospect of domination of the nation’s scholars by Federal employment… and the power of money is ever present and is gravely to be regarded.

Yet… we must also be alert to the equal and opposite danger that public policy could itself become the captive of a scientific technological elite.”

A black triangle in near space…

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US Government policy dictated by an unelected elite?

Rule of thumb – (can I say this in a novel, Talmage?) – Don’t be shocked by UFO’s, just chew before swallowing.

Classified defense contracts are logical in a world that generates Hitlers.

But if we’re hiding zero-point energy from starving kids, perhaps we have a sociopathic technological elite making our biggest decisions.

My mind still resists that notion as I sit on an ancient Indian carpet in space and stare at a triangle that I’ve heard called the TR-3B.

TR-3B

In front of it, a time-frozen corkscrew mist stretches out for six hundred yards into space. It looks like the “camera-shutter artifact” captured on reentry of the Space Shuttle Columbia in 2003, just before she exploded. God rest their souls.

Here’s that “artifact,” from a video documentary…

gi3d_600x460

Despite two punctate stars (forget the circular pointer), NASA says that this photo “suggests” a jiggle in the camera’s shutter. I can’t imagine they believed that, but the cloudless ionospheric lightning theory would have flown.

No?

“What in the world is that purple trail?” I ask Vedanshi who’s in cobra pose to my right. Always yoga.

“Looks like smoke from an unbalanced missile, but I don’t know,” she says. “The chemistry’s buried in phase shift.”

The Ganga’s orb touches the triangle and dims as it moves into the hull.

“They’re ghosts,” Vedanshi says.

The Ganga takes us closer, then eases us slowly through the hull and into an ethereal cockpit. The top halves of the two men come up through the carpet behind us as we study the control panel with our bodies leaning through the backs of the bucket seats.

I notice a clipboard beside the Chief of Staff’s chair. On it there’s a memo from “Paul Adolph Volker, Jr., Chairman of The Federal Reserve Board.” It’s dated, August 21, 1984, and says…

“The economically disruptive nature of zero-point technology demands it be kept from the public. Your ongoing cooperation is imperative. I would remind you that all conversations are monitored.”

“Does The Ganga run on zero-point?” I ask Vedanshi.

“Yes, but she prefers zero-point gravity over the electromagnetic spectrum. She claims it’s the taste, but I think it’s pride.” Vedanshi winks at the carpet beside her. “She has the most advanced technology in recorded history… At least the parts of history that a sixteen-year-old was allowed to read.”

“Did other ships from your era survive the asteroids?” Maxwell asks.

“Probably. But not in stasis. I don’t think anyone but my mom’s techs could rig a ship for controlled quantum stasis. And even they botched it. To do the job right you need a pyramid.”

The Sea of Tranquility peers down from the moon. I could imagine a well-stocked ship going there to miss an asteroid storm. Or maybe they’d go to Mars. A photo of a pyramidal mountain on Mars pops into my head…

ESP_017574_1965_polyhedron

“Wait,” I say to her, “you mean the pyramids were used for suspended animation?”

“Among other things,” Vedanshi says. “Most pyramids had multiple talents. My favorite thing was mood enhancement.”

There’s a piece of white paper under the foot of the hooded Chief of Staff.  The name on his lapel badge has no vowels.

“Mood?” Maxwell asks, forgetting to close his mouth.

Vedanshi nods. “Some pyramids were resonant. You could hear them for miles. The Builders made them in sets of three to produce a haunting minor chord. They sang every seventh day. If you sat and breathed slowly, the sound brought new enthusiasm. Spiritual technology. I miss that sound more than… even the garden in my bedroom.”

“You had a garden in your bedroom?” James asks.

She nods wistfully. “You know, this science-spirit dichotomy of your era is bogus.”

James just stares at her – an unusual response from him.

“Have you seen the pyramids at Giza?” I ask and put my forehead against the deck to see if anything’s legible on the paper under the Chief’s statuesque foot.

“I’ve seen images,” she says and leans over to see what I’m squinting at. “You want to go check ’em out in person?” There’s the child in her voice again.

James straightens up his lotus position. “To Giza KFC,” he says solemnly, and raises an index finger. “Make it so.” As his hand falls, I see Captain Picard in my head…

wj1h4Dc

“Let’s do it,” I say as frozen words from 1984 shift in and out of focus, most of the message probably hidden under a wide boot:

“All international bank debt will henceforth be transferred to taxpayers through the International Monitory Fund. Breakaway civilization is re-established.”

The pages of a book I skimmed in an eight-year-old pout, The Creature From Jekyll Island, appear again. Since I was thirty-three days shy of my fourth birthday, I’ve been able to read faster than I can turn pages. I’ve always been able to re-read from memory at least ten times faster than I can read from a book. Bottom line on Jekyll Island?

The Fed is inconceivably evil.

Thomas Jefferson might have agreed…

I am not among those who fear the people. They, and not the rich, are our dependence for continued freedom. And to preserve their independence, we must not let our rulers load us with perpetual debt

The Earth spins beneath us as we descend. The enormous African Continent fills the horizons. Everything becomes a tan blur, but before I can worry that we’re about to crash, we’re looking through double glass doors at the tops of the Giza Pyramids…

hgrHTIf

“Yesssss!” James hisses. “I’m so hungry I could cry!”

“In a minute I shall cry,” I say, channeling Scarlett O’Hara.

James chuckles, looks at me and shakes his head. “Man, you sound just like her… Hey, anybody got some Benjamins?”

I shake my head, Maxwell checks his pockets and Vedanshi unzips her purse. She pulls out a crisp fifty dollar bill as the glass doors in front of us burst open and a large man walks straight through me at full tilt, stops at the counter behind us and seems to be placing an order in the local tongue.

My heart pounds at the horror of being a ghost. I’m not dead, though, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

James starts chanting, “I’ve never seen a man eat so many chicken wings,” repeating it with increasing anger as Vedanshi smiles at him and giggles.

Now I ask you, how could she get that joke? It’s a spoof on Korn, for heaven sake! She’s never heard of Korn.

Has she?

Maxwell is leaning back on his right elbow managing not to look startled by our first encounter with lunch traffic.

“Tourist info,” Vedanshi says. “The Ganga informs me that there used to be a library under the right paw of The Great Dog. She says there’s a statue similar to it in the very same spot… Called the Sphinx?” She looks at me and smiles broadly. “You want to…”

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“We’re eating first,” James says and pounds the rug.

Maxwell holds out his right first, and the boys bump knuckles.

M. Talmage Moorehead

This in-progress story starts here.

Join my email group here and download my e-book, “Writing Meaningful Page-turners.” Sounds boring, but if you’ve never read a book on fiction writing, this will be the best one ever! For you. So far. I’m pretty sure.

If you have a close friend who doesn’t roll her eyes at sf stuff, please send her (or him) my blog address: http://www.storiform.com.

Personal note to fiction writers:

Sweet, this chapter was shorter. Still too long, but next chapter I’ll try to add some conflict and make it yet shorter. I realize conflict is probably the second most important part of energy flow in a story (from book to reader, vs the opposite), so why is my story lacking conflict?

First, it’s early and I’m hoping to build. But let’s be honest, it’s not that early.

OK… plot twists with conflict are best designed to highlight your characters’ strengths, weaknesses and especially big motivational changes. When I manage to do things that way, I don’t feel arbitrary or manipulative. But writing plot conflict in general is energy-consuming because “working memory” is pegged out quickly (at my age) when I put characters in complex grave dangers that leave only a less-than-obvious (but logical) way of escape. Writing in pegged-out mode is exhausting and challenging. I try not to be lazy, but it requires all kinds of self-control and exercise of free will to build meaningful conflict into the plot.

Plus conflict is risky, and I’m somewhat afraid of it. I might get one of my characters killed. I would deeply hate that experience! Yeah, I know that attitude is unprofessional – what would you call it? “Sentimentalism?” But hey, it’s me. Your humble and yet infallible hack. We must all go with what we are, facing our limitations and striving to overcome and work around them.

At least I realize I need conflict to salvage the energy flow of this story. Otherwise it’s going to be boring. I’ll try harder next chapter. You do the same, maybe. With your talent, you could blow the doors off any complex plot issue. Don’t hold back.

Keep going. Stay pumped!

Talmage