Sunday, September 14, 2003

I spent most of today reading "Human Devolution." Cremo's thesis is that the universe is constructed from matter, mind and consciousness, the latter defined as a cosmic wellspring from which all else originates. Cremo notes that physical matter of the kind regularly experienced by human beings is the basest of the universe's three ingredients -- hence "devolution."





Cremo's model can be read as a spiritual version of Extropian/transhuman philosophy. Instead of upgrading humanity via cybernetics and genetic engineering, Vedic cosmology offers the idea of ascension through transmigration. A leap of faith, to be sure. But Cremo does a good job of putting his evidence on the table: fossil anomalies, the perils of using mitochondrial DNA as a tool for dating the human species, "psychic" abilities, etc. There's even a chapter on UFOs which I haven't gotten to yet. Along with a few iconoclastic titles like Michael Talbot's "The Holographic Universe," "Human Devolution" has made me reevaluate what I think I know. So even if Cremo's balancing act fails and his discussion "devolves" into pseudoscientific posturing, at least I will have learned something.

Of course, professional skeptics will have a field day with this book. Let them; they're missing the point. Even if one ignores the bulk of archaeological strangeness that forms the basis of Cremo's dissatisfaction with the mainstream evolutionary paradigm, one still has to find a consistently plausible prosaic explanation for various out-of-body states, psychokinesis, religious "miracles," and UFOs. Personally, I don't think this can be done. There's a real mystery here, every bit as existential as scientific. "Human Devolution" likely doesn't contain the whole story, but it's a sincere, informed attempt.

Whitley Strieber and other alien contactees/abductees have described their "visitors" as enlightened beings with an implicit interest in human consciousness. If consciousness is a distinct material capable of existing without matter or mind, as suggested by Vedic scholars, then it's very tempting to wonder if the "aliens" are constructed of pure consciousness. They may be forced to adopt a temporary (?) material existence in order to interface with us in a meaningful way. But the fact that we ourselves are conscious as well as decidedly physical beings implies that the "visitors" (to use Strieber's designation) can control their material aspects in ways that would leave modern physics mystified. The UFO intelligence (or Philip K. Dick's VALIS, which is likely the same thing) probably employs a technology of consciousness.

In "Transformation," Strieber describes dormant alien bodies stacked like cordwood, awaiting future use. Strieber's visitors appear to have the ability to inhabit and discard gross material bodies at will. The craft they allegedly pilot are similarly dualistic, appearing alternately as amorphous, physics-defying masses of light and structured vehicles. Close encounter witnesses grasp for "nuts and bolts" explanations when they describe entities walking through walls. But for the visitors, there are no walls in the sense that we perceive them; in "The Matrix," a similar revelation allows Keanu Reeves' "Neo" to sever his connection with a seemingly omnipotent virtual cosmology once he understands its inherent unreality).

Supposedly, apparent aliens once told a witness that they "recycled souls": hardly the sort of task one would expect of beings as simple as extraterrestrial anthropologists. If true, then presumably human consciousness persists after biological death. The presence of so-called "aliens" intent on insinuating themselves into our collective technological mythology presents fascinating questions. As Strieber argues, it would be incredibly naive to dismiss close encounters in which the witnesses see deceased relatives working in tandem with "Grays" simply because the prospect clashes with the prevailing materialist interpretation of the UFO phenomenon. Perhaps a hidden "spiritual ecology" is at work, with "aliens" functioning in some vital -- if unknown -- capacity.

Recently, physicists presented a model of reality in which everything can be reduced to pure information. People, houses, quasars, galaxies -- in theory, all can be reduced to a series of "yes" and "no" questions reminiscent of binary computer code. Maybe human affairs are as inconsequential as the antics of Rudy Rucker's Boppers, with the "aliens" possessing the equivalent to "system operator" status. Interestingly, Rucker, a mathematician with extensive experience with the concept of infinity, envisions "God" as a sentient pure white light. It may be no coincidence that both UFO encounters and near-death experiences often begin with the awareness of an all-encompassing light or glow. Psychologist Kenneth Ring maintains that "alien abductions" and near-death experiences are essentially the same subjective experience, with only minor cosmetic differences.

Returning to Cremo's thesis, perhaps our goal as a (partially) conscious species is to become one with the Cosmic System Operator -- an entity that may well be godlike in many respects, although I'm wary of any overtly religious definitions. It might be the "maddening simplicity of unattended clockwork" posited by astrophysicist and UFO researcher Jacques Vallee, or the artificial intelligence to whom psychic and showman Uri Geller attributes his abilities.

I'm reasonably certain that nonhuman forces are attempting to guide us closer to some unguessed revelation. Assuming we indulge them in their playful dialogue, will their message ultimately assist us or deal us a shattering blow from which we can never recover?

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