The study I am going to analyze today is called “Explaining ‘Memories’ of Space Alien Abduction and Past Lives: An Experimental Psychopathology Approach”. It was published in the Journal of Experimental Psychopathology in 2012. The author is Richard J. McNally, of Harvard University. If you want to read it entirely, you only have to click on the article’s title, though I can summarize it for you in a few words: it is beyond repair. When I finished reading it, I wasn’t sure if the only purpose of this “scientist” was mocking all the people who claim to have been abducted by aliens or remember past lives —because it is obvious both phenomena are totally comparable (???)— or maybe make it very clear to his colleagues that he doesn’t believe in such things typical of nutters.
I am afraid this is going to be only the first one of a long series of blog entries in which I will criticize the wrongdoings of the majority of scientists (if not all) that try to give an explanation to some paranormal phenomena. I warn I am not going to bite my tongue. I also warn I am going to use my irony quite a lot, as in these cases it comes naturally to me, so be careful about taking my comments literally. But I want to make it clear that I don’t enjoy doing this. As I have mentioned in other places in this blog, I was educated in science myself, and talking like this is not appealing to me. My wish... my dream, even, is there were many more scientists studying seriously and objectively phenomena like past life memories. I would like scientists were open-minded guys who try to search for the truth and never stop wondering. But, unfortunately, reality is very different. Reality is that every now and then reincarnactionists like me have to encounter “scientific studies” —this must indeed go between quotation marks, not the word “memories” we will see next— in which the only thing that is proved is that certain researches have already decided what can exist and what not, and so they display a boundless arrogance, not even leaving an open door, a small possibility of being something real, to everything their little minds can’t comprehend. Due to scientists like these I decided a long time ago I didn’t want to belong to that so-called “scientific community”, not while many of their attitudes didn’t change (what means that I will have to wait a few more lifetimes).
The study I am going to analyze today is called “Explaining ‘Memories’ of Space Alien Abduction and Past Lives: An Experimental Psychopathology Approach”. It was published in the Journal of Experimental Psychopathology in 2012. The author is Richard J. McNally, of Harvard University. If you want to read it entirely, you only have to click on the article’s title, though I can summarize it for you in a few words: it is beyond repair. When I finished reading it, I wasn’t sure if the only purpose of this “scientist” was mocking all the people who claim to have been abducted by aliens or remember past lives —because it is obvious both phenomena are totally comparable (???)— or maybe make it very clear to his colleagues that he doesn’t believe in such things typical of nutters.
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Part 1.
I go through different stages in this imprisonment. At the beginning I am in a state of confusion. They haven’t treated me wrong, in fact at first I thought they were doing it to protect me, as a group of people came to my house with the intention of lynching me. Perhaps they would have done so, had they not detain me before. But even so, I am nervous and afraid, obviously. I wonder what could have gone awry and how this will end. I deny all the charges, of course. Two men always come very clearly to my mind. One of them is a young man. The word “attorney” [in English in the original] always turns up in reference to him, he must be my public defender and he assures me he will do everything in his power for me. He is a fool believing he can do something, but at least he believes in me and will give it a try. The other one is an older and very serious man, black-haired and with a mustache, and he doesn’t believe me. I read in his eyes that he wants to see me dead as much as they do. He thinks I am a monster. I don’t like him at all... with time I even hate him, though in those days I hated virtually everyone. Sometimes some men (I don’t know if these are the same or others) come to speak to me. We all sit around the small table and they tell me how the situation stands. I am very upset. When they tell me the chances to be saved are low, I get down in the damps, but while they are in front of me I restrain myself and hold back the tears. I can’t believe they won’t absolve me as the other time. I think of the gallows and it makes me so afraid, of course, besides I think I don’t deserve it. Someone has left a piece of paper and a pen on the table, telling me that I can confess at any time if I want it to. But I do not intend to do so. I won’t give them that satisfaction. At another time I also saw myself sitting at an office table, I am not very sure who was at the other side, maybe the prosecutor. He was asking me, “Why did you do it?” To which I replied, defiant, “Do what?” He was trying to scare me so that I make a confession, but I knew I would never, ever, admit the accusations against me. I always wear a long, black dress. In one of the regressions I saw with all details the part of the chest and neck: I saw a piece of cloth that made a peak at the bottom, with little stripes as if it were a small pleating. At one side there seemed to be buttons and at the other something like buttonholes, but those that are separated from the cloth. And then I saw the typical lace collar, rounded and very close to the neck. I also saw the dress sleeves, long, tight, and ending with lace too. Now and then they come to the cell and take me to another place, where I have to undress so they can throw a bucket of freezing water over me. I feel so ashamed and desperate. As time passes, the physical deterioration is visible, and my hair looks more and more unkempt. I know that a priest comes to preach to me from time to time, I listen to him (or pretend to) but I don’t give a damn about anything he says. I don’t know exactly when, but sometimes I also hear there is an uproar out there, around the prison, it is as if people is protesting about something or came to ask for my head. They remind me of the lynching attempt and how they had to protect me to bring me to prison... Again I feel so much fear and desolation. They don’t even know what that man (my third husband) used to do with his ex-wife, they don’t know what they did to me in my youth. Nobody knows that, because I’m supposed to be another woman, but this is another secret I will take to my grave. They don’t know anything about the beatings, the bathtub, or the desires for suicide. They know nothing but even so they have already judged me and they want my death. How unfair is life, how unfair is everything... There are never two identical past lives. This is something I have completely proven. Even when some of the circumstances seem to be very similar at first sight, they never feel the same, the emotional conflicts are never the same, nor your decisions, nor your way of thinking, nor how you take things. I think this is one of the most magical aspects of reincarnation, a process that seems to be orchestrated flawlessly from the beginning to the end (if there is an end at all). Something that is completely to be expected, if we consider reincarnation as a natural and universal phenomenon, as so seems to occur with the rest of natural phenomena. Being Roderic I was seized and sentenced to die by hanging. Being Susan I was imprisoned and sentenced to die by hanging. The coincidences between the two past lives end here. Staying some time in prison destroys your soul, and sometimes it can take you to the brink of madness. One of the main reasons I have to think that in each incarnation a new mental body is created (making use of esoteric terminology), is that it would be impossible for us to live with the same mind we had in other lives, especially when certain experiences make you arrive to your death in such a state of disequilibrium that functioning with it as we did in childhood it would be slightly less than a miracle. Yes, I know, maybe I should begin by defining what the mind is for me, but I will leave that for another day... I have always felt a certain fascination for exploring those limits in which the human mind starts to become something “inhuman”, that complicated labyrinth in which any of us (yes, anyone) can get lost and never come out again. It is not by chance that my Arena’s favorite album (Arena again, of course) is dedicated precisely to that: insanity. I have already talked here about one of those songs: “Tantalus”. I always used to think about Roderic when I listened to it, because the discovery of that song coincided with the emergence of my first memories as Roderic. And now, years later, I realize it is also applicable to Susan. Linking the chains that weigh down your reason
Nothing to blame, but the actions you choose Driven insane by the conscience of treason Running in vain from a life of abuse The last few days have not been easy. At times it seems the anxiety wants to be back, but when I meditate nothing comes. On Sunday, March 12th I had a severe headache during all day, despite the fact I had slept quite well. It came together with pain on my shoulders and neck, and I still can’t say how much it comes from the present and how much from the past. Sometimes, curiously when I start to cook, I feel slight anxiety attacks that I barely can control. I suspect this is somehow related to my life as a mistreated wife (this month is another one of those dire anniversaries). I even see some flashes of events that I don’t want to remember at all, but they don’t quite come to light.
In my spare time I have finished reading everything I could find about James, and I have selected the most interesting excerpts so that I have them well-placed in my records. I was considering writing an entry dealing with what one feels when someone speaks of one of your past life personalities, but it was being really hard for me to find the words to express it, until, talking with a user of Military Past Lives, I told her: “I’m dying of nostalgia and I want it all back”. I think this sums up my feelings quite well. Doubts and more doubts. Doubts gnaw at us reincarnationists, at least those of us who keep a bit of sense. But, as so well a friend told me not long ago, there is something we can’t doubt: our emotions. We can’t make them up. Emotions arise on their own, they arise for a reason. They are there from the moment we are conscious, and many times their origin is unexplainable... unless we take into account the existence of past lives. I smile when my boyfriend becomes so insistent that I must watch a series of three documentaries about the Invincible Armada. He thinks I will be interested, as, without his own memories, he can’t understand how we reincarnationists feel in regards to our past lives. I am not interested in the Invincible Armada in the least. I am not interested in the Spaniards of 16th century. It is an era totally indifferent to me. Neither do I like current ships or sailing. I haven’t lived it as a child. What interests me, what moves me, what makes me vibrate, is 18th century England, the Royal Navy of that time, not even Nelson’s, but the one of Cartagena de Indias, the one of Minorca, the one that was in full development —the first school of officers didn’t even exist when I started off my naval career—, with its major defects and strategy failures due to lack of experience in maritime warfare. |
AuthorMy virtual name is Eowyn. I have been researching and experiencing reincarnation since 2011. This blog is only a tiny fraction of the result. Categories
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