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"The part we ignore…may contain the clue to the whole subject." ~ J. Allen Hynek

Objectivity. Feh. And Meh.

“Meh. Feh. People have experiences. People, being people, then interpret those experiences according to their cultural, religious, spiritual, political, etc. beliefs, contexts, upbringings. Nothing new there. All this stuff about being objective — well, we sure do need that! Except, within this holy chase of being objective, we forget that people have experiences that are, at best, weird. Some of us put those experiences into a comfort box where All Is Explained. Others, like myself, don’t know what the fuck happened, except, it DID happen, whatever it was, and it was weird, and continues, and so now what?” ~ Regan Lee on Facebook, June 2019

 

That’s what I posted on Facebook this evening in response to a thread about the need, and lack, of “objectivity” in UFO research.

Two minds here. One, sure, I think one should be objective. Especially if you’re a researcher, or simply an interested on-looker of UFOs. You can’t go in there with a pre-determined idea of What This Whole UFO Thing Is All About. You don’t know — you don’t! — and neither do I. We have ideas, theories, speculations, and that is not a bad thing. At all! At all! But it’s not the truth, or that utopian idea of “objectivity.”

The other mind, says, “Oh, well, clearly — CLEARLY!!!!! — it’s angels. Or demons. Or fairies, dark projects, weapons technology, and the list is just endless.

The Reptilian that comes, or the angel, or the alien, or the lovely sexual/asexual Space Sister/Brother, with messages of peace and gentle chidings of care for the planet, may be the message.  But does that mean it’s the truth? The entity may be real (or, not) but its message may be pure bullshit.

Or, it could be, most likely is, a little bit of all of those things: some conspiracy, some non-human entity melodrama, some sci-fi-yet-all-too-real DARPA weaponry, etc.

Meanwhile, we’re still left with experiences. Sightings. Encounters. The researcher out there who doesn’t know me, didn’t see what I saw, can only be “objective.” Up to a point, that’s good. A different perspective, a needed reminder to stop, breathe and think.

Thank you. I needed that.

At the same time, for many a witness/experiencer/your label here, our experiences continue. And we still don’t have answers. We don’t have solutions.

The mystery continues. Many of us are stuck in a created answer. I can’t speak for others. But I also know that many of us remain stuck for different reasons. We don’t have answers. We reject a one size fits all, be it a religious, cultural, or whatever the fuck explanation. All we know is that weird stuff has always happened, and continues to happen. We want to know why, and how, and, what.

So while “objectivity” from outside can add insight, it isn’t an answer.

And this perspective that I’ve presented here is an old one, which proves that we haven’t gotten anywhere, really. Except for, very possibly, the recent revelations of various government data concerning UFOs. While that may be objective, it isn’t an answer. We still don’t know the whys, and the wheres, and the hows. We just know that there IS.

That’s objective. IT IS. Old, old data. Only the most stubborn, the most dense, the most thick headed of skeptic-debunker of the thick-headed-debunkers, can deny the existence of Otherness.

But that’s all we have really. The data that tells us that there is truly other shit out there. Doesn’t take us too far.

We need a kind of Zen approach, a real balance. Get out of our comfort zones in terms of frameworks that make us feel better, yet reject the blindness that can come of objectivity. Because, in the end, whether it’s gorillas or bees or the mating habits of heterosexuals on the west coast of the U.S., there is not true, real, objectivity.

So everyone relax. And listen.

 

River Voices and, Screen Memory?

Jim, remembering his years living up river, in the woods,  in a yurt. This, decades ago, no cell phone, no computer, no TV, no nothing. Except his dog, his S.O. at the time, and a couple of iron skillets. And books. 

“You don’t want to pay too much attention to what you hear in the night. Probably doesn’t help I was reading Castaneda at the time.”

Jim speaks of whispers, calls, songs, voices to be sure, but not quite human sounding. Imagination? Or awareness of other? (He never saw anyting UFO – ish out there, up the McKenzie River, but he did have some interesting experiences, including a strange energy zapping thing that came through his cabin (post-Yurt) and “into” his body.)

I remember a night in the Santa Cruz area with my father and step-mother. Standing by a river. A very crisp night. I remember the stars; so many, so damn brilliant!  It was the first time, spending time by water that I heard singing. Voices. Angelic. Coming from the water. Distinct. I was about sixteen, fifteen. I remember that night vividly. I think we spent the night there, camping out. I’m not sure. So much about that night is vague. But the voices in the water — I’ll never forget that.

Decades later, I painted a semi-abstract painting of a river, water . . . as I was painting, that memory came back to me. Suddenly, I put in a little silver saucer shape thing in the sky above the water.  I was thinking “star.” As soon as I had done that, I “heard” just outside my head a voice (not the first time this has happened) that “There was much more to that night than I remember,” and the insertion of that silver object in the sky is no mistake or mindless doodle.

“That was no star,” the voice said. “That was a UFO.”

Whoa. 

A true memory, literal, or something else? Easy to dismiss or explain away in rational terms. And I would. Except, as always, the life long experiences that puts these seemingly random events into a context. A context that shouts: “UFO paranormal weirdness, sister. Keep paying attention.”

Why Her? Childhood Memories of “Them”

I have a recurring dream. I’ve been dreaming this dream for decades. Goes like this:

It’s night. I’m in bed, watching the yellow light beneath the door, waiting for “them.” The little beings that I can barely see. I have to wait like this, part of the “ritual” although I didn’t think of that way when I was a child. Just kind of excited, waiting to “play.” 

They come. Float me out through the bedroom door, the hall door, through the living room — where I see my mother and grandmother, maybe some others, talking, watching t.v. — and float me out the front door. They put me up in the large pine tree on the corner of our street. The house next door to us, the one on the corner, had a huge pine tree on the corner of the front yard. 

I’m not the only one sitting happily on a branch, high up in the tree, waiting for the rest of “them.” My friend Pamela is here too. We wait together. The two of us are used to this, happens all the time. Soon the ship will come and we’ll go inside and be with the rest of “them.”

In this recurring dream, it’s only Pamela. Not any of my other friends from school or the neighborhood, not my god sister or sisters or anyone else. Always Pamela.

Is there literal meaning to this memory? I still have dreams, decades later, of her, where I contact her. She is far away, and it was quite an ordeal getting her number, etc. to reach her. But I finally do.

We also used to sneak up to the roof tops of the multi-apartment complex she lived in in Hancock Park. Late at night, sitting up on the roofs of buildings. Did something happen on those rooftops, something we, or I, don’t remember?

I haven’t been in contact with this person since my early twenties. No idea where she is, her last name (married, kept her maiden name, what) — and, regrettably, my behavior back then was not the best. (Drugs, rock and roll, the seventies, … enough said.)

Dreams of UFOs, space ships, non-human beings appearing and communicating . . . childhood memories that, when shared with some family members, are met with uneasy and startlingly confirmations of similar memories.

A ghost story’s clues: abduction?

Heard a ghost story today. I will not reveal where, or details, in order to protect the witness. I don’t have permission, so, no.

But the story is a basic ghost story, of an apparition appearing as a “real” person, who abruptly — very abruptly — disappears. As many a ghost story goes, this one took place in outdoors, in an area where, anyone coming or going would have been easily noticed. Also, the witness had given this ghost/visitor physical items. Items which seemed to have left with the ghost. Who disappeared as quickly and oddly as he had appeared.

I related this story to my husband, who asked about the items. If they were physical items, where did they go? Did the “ghost” take them with him? They weren’t around — the witness did not see them.

Was there physical evidence of these items given to the ghost before hand? If so, where are these things now?

My husband speculated if this ghostly encounter wasn’t really, in fact, a cover memory of an alien abduction.

Damn interesting!

Who knows, of course. These seemingly different and specific phenomena often merge; crossing over each other. One playing at being another? Or all the same? Or, sometimes the “same?”

Elk Memory

I’ve written about my elk memory in past blog posts, including here.

The following is a poem I wrote recently about this event:

An elk, so I thought

deep in the woods, at ten

away from my troop — 

what was this huge, silent creature? as I stood

across the highway

still, staring,

regan lee elk.jpgunafraid, but awed.

Why was I there?

alone?

away?

Not lost, but

not where I should 

have been.

 

regan lee

oregon, 5/2019

 

A Profound Insight on the Astral About MUFON, Or Something, and Archangel Gabriel

 

I’ll be a guest angelgoodbad.pngagain  on Tim Beckely’s podcast in June. More to come on that. Time, date, etc. I was asked to submit some topics to discuss; I told Tim Schwartz I’ll get back to him with some ideas.

Then later, I realized: I don’t have any ideas. I don’t want to discuss, again, all my Orange Orb-Missing Time – Bigfoot Related Weirdness. Not that I mind, but I have a feeling a lot of people out there do. Again, with this? I hear them saying.  So much on my mind, always about “all this” in UFO Land, but I want something specific and constructive.

Last night, thinking on this, I called out to Archangel Gabriel (helper guide of writers) for ideas. And had a dream about my interview, talking trash — trash I tell you! –about MUFON. But deeper than that, insightful calling them out comments. Deeper and deeper we went. Not about UFOs themselves, but the humans researching them. Their agendas regarding UFOs. That’s the issue, really, more so than the actual UFOs. Almost.

In the dream, I was articulate. Had my paranormal shit together. Then of course, upon awakening, I forgot the specifics.

But something lurks in the subconscious, about hidden agendas. Not by “them” — it’s a given their agendas are hidden — but by some of us.

Aliens Through the Wall: Then Why Did Ya Tell Me?!”

It seems when I sleep in the afternoon, the dreams are weirder. I’m recovering from oral surgery, feeling sloggy and groggy, and so, slept for a couple of hours. (And when I woke up, thought it was time for work and had a moment of confusion on what to wear.)

So, the dream. I’m working away on writing, reading, researching all about This Stuff. UFOs, aliens, with a few cryptids thrown in. The usual. It’s night; outside the window I can see the dark night sky, a few stars. A knock at the door, I answer. Three males, all very different and very odd, are standing there. Without a word they just come in, pushy!

They act like MIB but don’t look like MIB. (Men in Black.) One looks like a boy of about sixteen, but I know he isn’t a young boy. He’s not even human. In fact, I know that none of these “men” are human. The other looks somewhat like an human, except the he’s really tall, and the other, about five foot nine, well. He’s simply a humanoid outline full of purple glittery shimmering material that keeps swirling around.

These men warn me in very strong terms not to discuss my experiences, my research. They know all about what I’ve written in the past. Everything. Every blog post, every article, every reference to me, every journal entry, and every discussion I’ve had with others about UFOs.

I am very offended. I ask them, “Just who do you think you are?!” and they don’t answer. They then walk right through the wall! Now that terrifies me. Then they walk back out, into the living room. They tell me “Don’t fuck with us, lady. We’re serious. You CANNOT tell anyone about us!”

“Then why,” I ask, “Are you showing up here at all, and showing off your wall trick?”

That, they ignore. They just walk through the wall again.

Later, I’m at work, I think.  Somewhere. I get a few people close to me together, tell them they cannot, CANNOT, tell anyone what they’re about to see. We’re in a room, locked door, paper over the peep hole. 

I am telling these people because the “men” later told me I could, but only if we promise not to tell others. Turns out I have video of their going through walls.

After I show the video, some tell me they don’t believe it because it’s easy to fake things. True, good point. I don’t know what to say.

Then the “men” show up and go through walls again. That gets everyone’s attention.

 

What I found interesting in this dream was the show off nature of the aliens, or whatever they were, along with their warning not to tell anyone. I asked what I considered a very reasonable question: then why show me all this?

True, as we know, when weird experiences happen and we tell others about them, many times we’re not believed. But many of us are compelled to tell our stories anyway. And there is certainly a trickster element in the UFO/alien paranormal realm. Lots of bizarre actions — performances, really, by “them” — often with warnings of keeping the experience secret.

Rectangle UFO in Oregon

MUFON has a report on a 2018 sighting. Sounds like a weird blimp to me, but who can say? Speaking of MUFON, feh. Except for straight up reports, otherwise . . . we take what we can get in this field.

An Oregon witness at Dallas reported watching a large, gray, rectangular-shaped object reminiscent of an aircraft carrier moving overhead, according to testimony in Case 92560 from the Mutual UFO Network (MUFON) witness reporting database. – MUFON

My (Past) War With Skeptics

Oy. Skeptics.

When I first discovered the internet; many years ago, I went after skeptics. I had many a name for these debunkers. “Skeptoids,” “skeptic-bunkies,” and more. I had Yahoo groups (remember them?) devoted to bashing skeptics. Blogs that went after them with a vengeance. Argued with them, and, was the victim of their pathological insanity. I was called many names, insulted, lied about, and threatened. (With violence, with rape.)

I would count up the astounding number of links on the JREF forum relating to Bigfoot — so many dozens of links attacking the existence of Bigfoot! For a creature that skeptics insist isn’t real, there were sure (and no doubt still are; haven’t checked in a long time) a lot of threads devoted to Sasquatch.

Finally, I quite. Started using my own, real, legal name on-line. Partly because, in using my own name, that would hold me accountable to myself. Also, letting others know: this is me. Who I am. Really, truly me.

As it is now. Still me.

After awhile, things died down, and they’re still fairly quiet in that realm. But overall, lately, there has been an uptick in the skeptical world. Lots of links (see Anomalist, and Coast to Coast, etc. for links) to skeptics and anti-skeptics.

Things don’t change. They rest, they retreat for a moment, but after a while, they return. Skeptics are always with us. Still showing their ignorance, their smugness, their refusal to consider — seriously, and more importantly, honestly, — the subject they’re refuting.

Finally, I’d like to say, to para-phrase, “nobody believes in ghosts, until they’ve seen one.” Except, even in those cases, I know that’s not true. I’ve met a few who have seen ghosts, heard them, felt them, along with members of their family, and still refuse to acknowledge their existence. I’ve had people walk out of the room, rather than talk about the things they’ve seen, be it UFOs or strange creatures or ghosts. I’ve had people refuse to talk about the very things the rest of their loved ones have seen, as they themselves had. Their love for their family — siblings, spouses, etc. — isn’t enough to cancel out their fear, or refusal, to accept the anomaly.  (And by the way, I have seen and heard ghosts, many a time.)

Why?

A question that intrigues me, but at the same time, I don’t pay much attention to anymore. I don’t argue. I don’t explain. Not now. Not anymore.

I will happily discuss my experiences. But explain? Justify? Apologize? Nope.

It is not my job to convince you. I don’t want to convince anyone. I simply  tell my story. My truth. It is up to you — your choice — if you believe me, or care to honestly engage with me.

Otherwise, buzz off.

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