The hidden paranormal people
by Jon Rappoport
October 31, 2013
Conventional physics argues that all the tiny particles which make up the universe are:
neutral and unconscious and dead—
And yet, say these same physicists, the brain, which is only a collection of such particles, is conscious.
The absurdity of this contradiction can only be sustained by monopolistic authority.
Consciousness is as non-material and paranormal as paranormal can be.
Without it, obviously, we would not be communicating right now. We would not be here. We would not Be.
Categories like telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, and telekinesis don’t tell the whole story. They’re just a pale reflection of the fact that Existence itself is paranormal.
Consensus reality, on the other hand, is a stage play based on the notion of “normal.”
So here we are, and we’re all paranormal, and we’re living in a normal world. If that isn’t a joke, if that isn’t a sickness, if that isn’t a conspiracy, what is?
The Matrix can spawn one Agent Smith after another, like a machine turning out products, and still the incalculable and magical fact of consciousness endures beyond the machine.
The stage play called reality is dedicated to top-down control, because consciousness, if unleashed as creative power, if allowed to flourish, would explode the stage flats and take us out into an open sky of such varied magic it would ring in a multiverse of unpredictable beauties…none of which require supervision from the psychopaths behind the curtain.
Making life into a machine is the goal of elites. We, on the other hand, see something else.
We don’t need to define what that is in a lab. We certainly don’t need to develop algorithms that purport to define what we are.
…Forty years ago, I was hired to tutor a young girl in arithmetic. She was having trouble with long division. She was in sixth grade, and she couldn’t do division. This is what I was told.
So one night I walked into a very large house in West Los Angeles. The mother, tall and thin, a remote ghost, led me into a cavernous living room, in the center of which sat her daughter, at a small table.
The mother gestured vaguely and glided off into unknown rooms and left the two of us alone.
I sat down. I gave the girl a couple of division problems to work, and she couldn’t. She grimaced.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll fix it.”
I asked her to explain what she was confused about. I wanted to get her to talk. She thought about it and recalled a few experiences in arithmetic, from third grade.
I sat there and listened. As she talked, she raised her head and started looking at me. There we were, in a huge quiet house, a dead house, two people, two strangers.
Something clicked. She began smiling.
She said, “I can read very well, but I can’t do division.”
I smiled, too, because it seemed there was a joke here, and it had nothing to do with math. It had to do with her whole life, the house, her parents.
Neither of us quite knew what was going on, but we were in the moment.
Without thinking, I said, “You’re in prison.”
She laughed.
I said, “Right now, I don’t know why but I feel like I’m in prison, too.”
We both laughed.
That was all it took.
I brought her back to the beginning of division, started from the bottom, and we worked our way up to more complicated problems. It took about an hour and she was fine.
I felt like we were two undersea divers, our oxygen lines were crossed and pinched, and we’d worked out the kinks. We could breathe again.
After that, we talked about her school, my days in school, teachers. She mentioned tomatoes. She said she was growing them in the back yard.
She took me through a few large rooms into the yard, turned on the pool lights, and we walked along a path to her garden, by a high fence.
The vines were tall, and the red tomatoes looked splendid.
We walked back and sat down at a table by the pool and looked at the water. All of a sudden, things shifted. The night sky was wide open. I could feel the air on my face. I could smell flowers.
“It’s a nice yard,” I said.
She nodded. “I’m reading everything Charles Dickens wrote,” she said.
“Why?” I said.
“Because it doesn’t seem to end,” she said.
I thought about it.
“Some things are like that,” I said.
“No,” she said. “Everything is like that.”
I looked at her.
She was smiling. Her face was radiant.
“Remember what you just said,” I said.
“I will,” she said.
She put out her hand. I shook it.
That was the end of the lesson.
I’ll always remember it, too.
Jon Rappoport
The author of two explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED and EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at www.nomorefakenews.com
Dear Jon,
Life isn’t “paranormal”…it’s God breathed. The myriad ways in which those who don’t believe in God continue to try to explain human life is simply amazing.
God stated:
“For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.” – 1Cor. 1:18 and
“The fear of the Lord is the BEGINNING of wisdom.” – Proverbs 9:10
It sounds like you are saying,”Life’s not that it’s this.” Is it necessary to believe anything? Do you mean that ALL people who don’t believe in god need to explain everything? Just wondering.
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Rappoport, like Castaneda, always sees another World. Un like Castaneda, he brings minds to points congruent with his own mind, and enables others to see what he sees, via the creative magic of his unique words…words…words….
Words…words…words? What did Castaneda use? Points congruent with his own mind? Did Castaneda use someone else’s mind?
Salutacions. Vas aconseguir que fes divisions ? Un favor.Pots publicar entrevistes que tens en Màtrix,el Hipnotitzador que deia que tots estem hipnotitzats. Qui entén que tot es material de petit devia tractar els seus pares com dos pedres. Ànims,ben cordialment.Que tingui un dia agradable amb moltes rialles.
Beautiful story. You were both there and you communicated. The essence of life.
“Making life into a machine is the goal of elites.”
Reminds me of John C. Lilly.
Jon, I appreciate your recent stories on your experience with the paranormal. I’m writing some fiction on the topic, and would respectfully request an opportunity to contact you with some questions. Let me know if this would be ok.
It was one of those times when one link led to another, and I ended up reading this: (*Edit, I’m going to remove the link because sometimes links make comments go into the spam folder*) “Parents of Reddit, what is the creepiest thing your young child has ever said to you?”, on Reddit, obviously, a long discussion of strange and disturbing things that people’s kids had said. Dozens and dozens of them had incidents where children had said something about living a former life, having another mommy before this mommy, getting murdered by somebody and describing the incident in detail, dying in a car crash, and knowing things they couldn’t have known, which turned out to be accurate. For some reason I have always loved reading stories about strange, bizarre things that have happened to people.
Nowadays my own mental experiences are disruptive enough that I do not value them. I’ll be researching this more in the future, and it’s frustrating to always have to postpone the research, but I have to get other stuff done first. I hope I can use my mind again in the future without the disturbing phenomena interfering with me.
When I was young I remember I would play with other kids and envy them if they were seemingly able to ‘voluntarily hallucinate.’ The other kids would ‘get into’ the pretending game much more than I could, so that they would actually believe whatever was happening, a sort of self-hypnosis for fun. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t actually *see* whatever we were pretending about, and eventually, over the years, pretending because less enjoyable. One time I remember playing with a neighbor girl and we were pretending to run away from the ‘floating eyes,’ because I had told her about an incident where I had seen glowing floating eyes coming towards me in my bedroom when the lights were off. She pretended, and got very scared from it, and acted like she was really able to see the floating eyes. Another girl friend pretended we were running away from tiny monsters, or bigger scarier monsters, that were invisible to me. I felt left out because the other kids I was with were able to self-hypnotize better than I could (I decided later on that ‘self-hypnosis’ had to be the explanation) and were able to really believe it.
So strangely, I am actually more ‘realistic’ than many other people, but nowadays, I’m also totally accepting of my own experiences, so that when something happens to me in my mind, I judge it and perceive it for myself, and if other people tell me I’m ‘crazy’ or that the stuff happening is a sign of mental illness, I don’t listen to them. Nobody else can tell me what is normal or abnormal for my mind. I’m familiar with how my own mind works well enough that I know I’m not capable of merely imagining these events or hypnotizing myself to believe something that isn’t real. My *lack* of ability to hypnotize myself proves to me that the stuff happening to me is real, because I *don’t* have a good imagination. I know that seems contradictory.
Reblogged this on Jericho777's Blog.
Nice post.
It’s always in the small things.
Beautiful….as usual
We are all psychic. We shut down to block out the noise of other people’s incessant mental chatter, the screams of abused animals and people, the rapes, the abortions,the trees being cut, the bees being poisoned, the mustangs and eelephants slaughtered (they do weep, you know) , the shaming as children, the female genital mutilation and the earth herself groaning with the weight of evil thought speech action and consequences. I would go mad if that was in my conscious awareness 24/7. Perhaps that is what autistics and schizophrenics are hearing
What a peculiar and insightful observation.
As wrongly being diagnosed schizophrenic at a young age, that was later changed to a diagnosis of Aspergers, I can tell you I have been intensely aware of sadness and pain in all living creatures, for as long as I can remember. Because of this there is a constant heaviness with me, while I still am in awe of the beauty of earth and everything beyond.
Supposedly, I’m insane, of sorts, so what do I know, other than I make more sense than most.
Perception is a funny thing. How do you show the truly mad ones that they’re making up the asylum and not in charge, outside, as they believe?
Harri, I think you’re on to something.
Can’t be said any better. Salude’
“So here we are, and we’re all paranormal, and we’re living in a normal world. If that isn’t a joke, if that isn’t a sickness, if that isn’t a conspiracy, what is?”
Makes one wonder if we’re not all subconsciously prone to psychic/paranormal experiences – maybe we just take them for granted because they’ve never been pointed out as “different”, so remain “normal” until brought to our attention.
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Beautiful piece, Jon. You found it and I am glad you shared it.
Reminds me of a line from Russel Hoban’s “Ridley Walker”;
“Eusa’s head is dreaming us all”.
I don’t want this story to end — so it won’t – EVER!…… Thanks for this, Jon.
It’s the little things in life that are most worthwhile…. a quiet word….a look….a smile.