With respect for Budd Hopkins, June 15, 1931 – August 21, 2011
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With respect for Budd Hopkins, June 15, 1931 – August 21, 2011

Missing Time

I met Budd Hopkins only a handful of times. We had a mutual friend who knew of my interest in UFOlogy and who grudgingly–and with noted mockery of me–made the introduction. My friend quoted a line he’d heard at a dinner party where Budd had spoken about UFO’s, and one of the other guests had rolled his eyes. “I’ll believe when I can kick a tire.”
Budd was a brilliant man. He was unfailingly polite and soft-spoken, with the current of intelligence and thought bubbling through his conversation. He was both passionate and restrained about his work in the UFO field. I have a personal interest in UFO’s and am somewhat private about the origins of this interest, despite my outspoken support for reincarnation, energy healing, and the paranormal in general. I didn’t quite work up the nerve to ask Budd some of the real questions I wanted to ask. But I could have.
Budd showed my husband Sabin and me around his house in Cape Cod, where he had a studio. Budd was very much working with sacred geometry. I liked his current work though his earlier abstract expressionism didn’t do much for me. That’s a matter of taste. Regardless, Budd was a talented artist with a fabulous eye for line and color. A world-class artist, in fact.
His UFO work was seminal. It inspired some of the greatest researchers into the field, including Dr. John Mack, the Harvard professor who worked with UFO abductees and who came to believe that something real was happening. Something that must be studied because so many people were affected. “An extraordinary phenomenon demands an extraordinary investigation,” Budd proclaimed. Rightly so.
I know that UFOs are real. I am here to witness: They are here. By UFOs I mean non-terrestrial biological entities. I do not know if they are real in the physical sense or if they are confined to the bandwidth of the astral planes. This question I did pose to Budd, who told me flatly, “They’re real in the physical.”
For sure they are present in the astral planes. The thing is, the astral planes are real. They are, in fact, as real as the physical planes. They’re just different bandwidths.
Budd once mentioned to me the phenomenon of invisible beings. The moment he brought that up, I could feel, tangibly and powerfully, the being standing near Budd. Ten feet away, as present and watchful as if a stalker were standing there.
The universe is bigger than many people like to acknowledge. This, I think, is about safety. Many people (especially educated folks) feel safer clinging to the Newtonian box, the grand machine, which is predictable. To hell with quantum physics, that spooky action at a distance that made Einstein shudder. To hell with infinite dimensions in the multiverse, which the many worlds theory espouses. These people have blinders on which only allow them to see a tire which they can kick.
Fortunately great souls like Budd Hopkins aren’t wearing blinders. To Budd: it was great to meet you, and I wish you peace and joy in your journey.
Artist as Psychopomp – Tune in Mon July 11, 2011 – Monty Taylor – Living Consciously
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Artist as Psychopomp – Tune in Mon July 11, 2011 – Monty Taylor – Living Consciously



FROM MONTGOMERY TAYLOR, ABOUT MY GUEST APPEARANCE ON HIS SHOW
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JOIN ME! Monday, July 11, 2011 at 12:00 NOON
www.talkingalternative.com

Call in live: 877-480-4120
Hello Everyone,

I hope you can tune in to us this coming Monday, July 11th at 12:00 NOON EDT (and call in with any questions you may have during the live broadcast). If you are busy at work, tune in anytime that is good for your schedule or time zone by simply clicking on the archive of any of our past programs. The website is: www.talkingalternative.com and my program is called “Living Consciously”.

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Here’s a summer reading project that makes a difference!
(The recent series of solar and lunar eclipses continues to bring to us a future of revelations and insights.)

First, here’s a new word to add polish to our vocabulary: psychopomp. According to the dictionary, a psychopomp is a guide that conducts the uninitiated Soul between realms of consciousness and different stages of cosmic reality. In Jungian psychology, the psychopomp is a mediator between the unconscious and conscious realms. It is symbolically personified in dreams as a wise man or woman, or sometimes as a helpful animal. In many cultures, the shaman also fulfills the role of the psychopomp.

We don’t always expect to find psychopomps in the field of art and literature, but consider this perspective:

When looking at art throughout the ages, a little interpretive trick is to look for the character in the painting or sculpture who is holding a staff. This is the esoteric symbol showing that the figure in question was serving as a guide to a destination of fuller self-realization. In art of ancient times, Hermes is often seen holding a staff or cadeusis to identify him as such a guide. After all, Hermes (Mercury) was the only Olympian that could go from the heights of Olympus to the depth of Hades(different levels of consciousness) without restriction. He was the Divine Messenger that could communicate with every level of human psychic evolution. Later, in the art commissioned by the Catholic Church, the Saints and even the Christ were depicted carrying staffs to portray them as guides to the Heavenly Realms.

But who left us the legacy of these messengers? It was the Artist! It is important to remember that people could not read and write as a collective society until very recent times. So, it was the symbolism in the art of temples, cathedrals, and sacred places that conveyed the message.

This week I will have as my guest the visionary writer TRACI L. SLATTON, who steps into just such a role from the unexpected realm of the written word of fiction. Using written language the way a painter of the Renaissance uses crushed pigments of meaning and fine shading of emotion to transport us into time, both past and future, she celebrates the immortal voyage of the Human Spirit. Her latest books take us to the brink of what we think we know about time.

Traci Slatton’s works share a theme of linking the worldly perception of our existence to the transcendental. Her novels have been translated into over seven languages. Her recent books “Piercing Time and Space” and “Immortal” foreshadowed the current release of her most recent novels “Fallen” and “The Botticelli Affair”. They bring us into a world of insight and our relation to the endless cycles of time as we know it. After all, 2012 is rapidly approaching!

Traci Slatton is married to the pre-eminent sculptor Sabin Howard, whose widely-collected bronze sculptures champion the ideals of the Renaissance and their role in connecting us to the value of classical esthetics in our present reality.



Please let your friends know about this wonderful program that is such a joy to host. And please, if you can catch it, let me know your ideas for future program topics.

You can also join us on Facebook – Talking Alternative Fan Club, Twitter – @talkalternative, also at LinkedIn or IM us using AIM Messenger: talkalternative@aol.com

Best wishes always, Monty
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Montgomery Taylor
MontgomeryTaylor22@nyc.rr.com

JOIN ME! Monday, July 11, 2011 at 12:00 NOON
www.talkingalternative.com

Fire Island
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Fire Island

Fire Island

What is it about children and the beach? Such innocent and intense joy! My little one was so happy to go that she left love notes all over the house for her father and me: “I love to go swiming, I love the water, love, me.”
Ecco, Fire Island. It’s no Truro, and I have a wistful love for the Cape, in all its scruffy pine and sandbar glory. But neither is Fire Island 5 hours away. (Unless you leave for the ferry at the wrong time on Friday afternoon). It’s an hour and ten without traffic, and then a short ferry ride.
Ocean Beach has a honky tonk strip where too much raucous music spills out of bars and too many yahoos hang out, beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. Deer roam the sidewalks and every time I see one, I think: yikes! Lyme disease!
But… the beach, the beach, the beach. It’s beautiful. It’s fun.
On Paul’s 80th Birthday
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On Paul’s 80th Birthday

Paul’s 80th Birthday

We went to the Cape for my friend Paul’s 80th celebration. This afforded the opportunity to play on Thumpertown Beach before attending his party. It was wonderful to see him looking so happy, and to reconnect with some of his lovely friends whom I have met along the way.

Eighty is a milestone, and Paul gave a speech that began somewhat morbidly. His is a life that has seen both devastating tragedy as well as brilliant accomplishments and victories. Fortunately, his speech morphed into a more humorous exposition. He was his irascible self, exactly the man we had come to know and care for. If his words weren’t exactly uplifting, seeing him be fully Paul, with his foibles and his lovableness, was an affirmation of the core of the human experience. We are here to be imperfect. And to be loved.
I also owe Paul a debt of gratitude for modeling for me what it means to be an author. I was born to be a writer, but until I got close to Paul, I didn’t have a clue to what that meant.
So in honor of Paul’s 80th, I post herewith a poem I wrote for him more than 20 years ago. I still consider him The Good Man.

THE GOOD MAN

for Paul

His face conceives of the sun, gilded by flycasting

For manifold days off the crooked finger of the Cape,

Often around the jettied mouth of the Pamet.

Along those teeming shoals lie blue barnacled oysters, buried

Littlenecks, razor clams, one shard of whose sweet sharp

Crescent slit open my foot in the ebb tide. He sat me down

In the bright ankle-deep water, then trudged off

Across a glittering gilt sandbar, an oasis sculpted out of the flux,

For a band-aid and antiseptic wipe. Two terns

Fed each other, even the greedy white gulls, his favorite

Harbingers of humanity, for once stood peacefully watching

The wind ruffle in from the Bay.

Back home in his tower

(He built it on the earnings of years raking muck up

To publicly expose the threatening unseen)

I showered first, while he watered the pink tomatoes,

Curly beets, tiny triangular hot peppers and fragrant basil,

All fertilized by fish mulch, before he washed off

The luminous sticky sand of the day’s

Adventure. It took him an unhurried hour, maybe longer,

To nurture his green creatures to his satisfaction,

This general succoring in the prosperity of time.

 

by Traci L. Slatton

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Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com

Brene Brown: The power of vulnerability | Video on TED.com

Over the last several years, I have been given a wonderful opportunity: I’ve been repeatedly attacked by someone in my life, through litigation, character assassination, poison emails, contemptuous letters, and screaming episodes that occur both in public and on the phone.
It has been unpleasant. Often sad. Certain therapists, who are infected with the false notion that “It takes two to tango,” eg, two parties necessarily participate equally in high conflict situations, refuse to see that it is happening. This is one of the problems with current psychotherapy. Fortunately, a few therapists are starting to see beyond those kinds of cheap, untrue platitudes.
So I know for a fact that, in a conflict, if one person wants to fight, the other person’s best efforts at conciliation may fail. Because despite years of my returning kindness for blame and excoriation, the persons involved in this situation are not amenable to any kind of peace. Some people are committed to their own malice, hate, and vengefulness.
The opportunity here, despite the profound discomfort, is to reaffirm my self-worth internally. It’s for me to see myself as worthy of love and connection in the face of someone desperately wanting me to feel unworthy. To do this, I have had to come to some awakenings. One is that other people’s feelings and actions have absolutely nothing to do with me. They do what they do because that’s who they are. Someone who acts with constant nastiness and negativity has that internally with which to act. It’s no reflection of me.
Another awakening is something beautifully articulated in the video above: “Blame is a way to discharge pain and discomfort.” I never articulated it to myself this way, but I had a sense of it. I came to this understanding, which correlates with the first one, by way of realizing that if even five percent of what these people say about me were true, I would be Adolph Hitler or Genghis Khan. I simply am not.
But they really, really want me to feel bad.
And that is about them, not about me.
So it has been a gift. And it is a gift that has led me deeper into my heart. Because it makes me feel vulnerable, to be so constantly attacked. And in that vulnerability, I have come to recommit to my own courage, to offer myself compassion, and to tell my story with my whole heart. I affirm my imperfections. I love with all that I am despite the lack of guarantees–though, to be sure, this is for me a daily practice, not a fixed endpoint. Another practice I cultivate is one of gratitude.
So I recommend the TED.com video posted above: it’s a shortcut to the learning that I came to via unpleasantness. And it’s great fun! May all who read this blog know their own self-worth, and find in their hearts both their frailty and their lovableness.