"To search expectantly for a radio signal from an extraterrestrial source is probably as culture-bound a presumption as to search the galaxy for a good Italian restaurant" (McKenna 1991).
Yes, the aliens, after performing cattle mutilations, carrying out hybrid breeding programs, expanding individual (or collective, a la morphic resonance) consciousness by love and spiritual terrorism are going to pull back their saucers and pyramids from our pale blue dot and reply, as one group, to the ancient radio transmitter with a "We are here, humans, we come without having observed you once and view you as equals. We know you are sophisticated..." Meanwhile, Cambodian and Indonesian Genocides, Forrest Gump, and Mary Jane are all sailing on boats called "continents", exhausting gases like hippos fanning shit over the shivering ice caps (because we knew they were cold, our asses raised like the engines on our boats -- surprised suns providing the most heat). We're digging for something in the bottom of the boats: Guts of rope, ball bearings and cannon balls. Surely, bent over so far, shitting constantly, there is no worry of being attacked...it is more surprising that one can shit in this position at all, in Downward Dog. How is this possible? And now one is close enough to eat the toes right off their own feet -- and still shitting!
Yet shit is remarkably absent from this book. The aliens do not seem to be interested in that part of us, not like children, fools and tricksters are.
Instead, they're interested in anal probing, impregnation and fleshlights to a faultless degree (because of their advanced spirituality). Unless if you're experiencing samadhi on a regular basis, there's a chance our little friends will whisk you away, if not this life, then another, and if not you, then a friend or acquaintance of yours, and likely their family.
Since the grays can occupy different dimensions, it is hard to say the experiences abductees have of them corresponds to, well, exactly what they're describing. Likely, the aliens use these various traumatic methods of probing, implanting, cutting, impregnating, in conjunction with the catastrophic images, perhaps as the only means left to pierce, permeate or make porous the vast majority of people's crustier-than-crustacean egos (a crab is less egotistical than the normal human, which is probably why we find them tastier than ourselves too, while much consciousness in a dish will spoil it). After all, they're not abducting the Dalai Lama or any Himalayan monks, those conscious of consciousness, because they're already jiving with our shapeshifting guardians. "Those large black eyes" a monk might say, "are eyes to get lost in."
Are you opposed to getting lost in them? What's the risk? Even they admit they're afraid of our emotions, our depth, we being dark souls who have carried the flame far from the Source. Those large, endless eyes, full of love, bigger than us, and yet, reflecting how far we've come. Are they you, a genetically dead-end humanoid, trying to recover something they've forgotten? Or do they admire this human difference for what it is, and are not attempting to retrieve anything (excepting some hybrid children that may or may not be for us when the world is wiped clean). What if your connection was stronger with one of them than with any human, and you missed the children you created with your alien wife or husband? You realized some dual identity to yourself, felt some purpose that needed to integrate these two halves.
Mack says toward the end, "Writer and futurist Jean
Houston, at the Congress of the World Parliament of Religions in
Chicago in September 1993, commented that all myths begin with
a form of betrayal." It may be that aliens are abducting us, and whether or not are performing these traumatic experiments on us, know how to betray us. But is that it? Do they want us to view them as mythological beings at a later point in time? It seems, rather, that the woman who gets impregnated by the aliens or whose "seed" gets genetically modified beforehand, resulting still in the same outcome -- will she suckle the hybrid? They seem to be playing with our biological altruism towards related things -- "That baby is mine, but..." What? Of course, this isn't some chromosomal abnormality, this is the splicing in of another species, forced (re)entry, as the species is more advanced spiritually, abductees report feeling this, often claiming we were two species separated from the Source long ago.
Does disgust arise towards the hybrid baby because it is other, the mother desiring it to be a different species, while also trying to integrate it into the human, or because it is a more primitive species, that has been forcefully integrated with the human? For example, Kafka's cockroach-man. In evolutionary theory, cockroaches are hundreds of millions of years older than the human species and a different phylum entirely. They experience the world in a way that is older than us, in a way that came before us, that is non-human, yet still continues to the present alongside us, our scurrying friends. To be the cockroach-man is really just to have our experiences superimposed woefully short over the cockroach's much longer evolutionary vision. "I'm nowhere near as ancient as that..."as we look and see our scuttling legs disappear miles away into the dark behind us. He stands in contrast to Lin from Perdido Street Station, the artist khepri, a human with with a scarab head. The Egyptians rightly understood these animal-headed humans as gods, as they represent the human hosting a unique intelligence, and the human is something that can support these different intelligences.
The otherness of the hybrid may not be overlooked because of the above analysis; the "listless" hybrids even being a eugenic experiment in removing man's self-destructive, and therefore destructive, impulses...how is a parent to approach them with affection? They seem to point the way ahead for man's spiritual development, and though forced, perhaps that is all the decency we deserve, even according to our spiritual value, if we cannot listen to our dying Earth.
Here's to the Pentagon releasing UFO documents before June 1st this year, and to the next Copernican Revolution, when we find out not only are we not living in the center of the universe, but neither is our intelligence. Here's to the displacement of our intelligence and the unfolding of Indra's Web in the West, to the destruction of false Enlightenments and to the creation of cosmic cooperation.
Rhizomatic creep-spread
And diversity training
With my telepathic wife
Over morning bread.
Ten lotus prayers before
Existential coffee
(The Every New Sunrise).
I've gone,
"That's fine!
Other then you anyway --
Dear, we'll make it."
Who are you again?