The final two installments of The Dread Heart will dropping over the next two weeks. But for anyone who wants to see the ending sooner, the ebook version of The Dread Heart is now available. You can claim yours today at the button below!

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The wheels of the column rolled on and crushed beneath them the mud and bones and wire. It halted but once to lay explosive charges at the Wall. Then it poured through into the opening and marched through the Wood, lighting the way with shell and mortar and missile. No phantom, ghost, nor spectre barred their way, for they carried the heart, and the Wood’s enchantments could not touch them. Only the monsters met them, and these the soldiers slew like animals.

Within sight of the Tower they came, and here the Dark Lord’s bat-creatures descended upon them and took many as prey. But then they too were slain, and fell from the sky in flames as helicopters cut them down.

Taking her chance, the girl broke away and ran for the Tower. But commissars had come with the army, and she was spotted at once and seized. Taking her for a deserter, they brought her to the commander. And to her horror, she saw the Director was with him.

Seeing her, the Director’s face darkened in recognition, and he said:

“I see my pardon is rejected. So be it. Mercy is wasted on traitors and degenerates. Your father will be dealt with at our return. Dispose of her.”

And at his order a commissar dragged her away with his pistol drawn and forced her to her knees. But as the barrel of his weapon touched her head there was a flash of steel, and his own head flew from his shoulders.

Then the Lord of the Tower came forth from the shadows. And he bore not a mace but a sword. “You shall not touch her.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Thus they returned to their own house and found it empty. The girl’s mother had left them (for it was she who had denounced her father). The girl now lit a lamp and laid her father, weary with suffering, upon his bed. By his side she stayed as midnight gave way to morning and told to him all which had befallen her and of the Tower and its Lord.

As he listened to her words, there came a change upon his countenance. His body trembled, and though weak and wounded, he rose in his bed and clasped her hands in his.

“My daughter,” he said. “You know not what you say. Never had I thought this day would come. A fool’s hope it was that burned me sore. Now it has come, and I am full of grief. For the sake of us all, you must go back to him! And take this with you.”

Then leaning forward, he whispered in her ear a name she had never heard and yet she recognized.

“But, Father,” she said. “How can I leave you now?”

“My death matters not,” he answered. “And I cannot now condemn you to a life in this place. You must go now–look!”

Then he thrust his hand to the window and she saw that the sun had risen. And its light did fall upon the center of the city, where there lay a Great Square that was kept empty on all but the high days of the New Order. But now she saw it full and covered with lines of rolling warmachines and columns of marching soldiers.

“They go even now to storm the Dark Sector and its Wood,” her father said. “For they have now the means to cross it safely.”

Then the girl remembered the heart and crystal, and a great fear came upon her. “What must I do?”

“If they should reach the Tower all is lost. Go after them, and find the way there before them.”

Then he showed her where he had hidden a stolen uniform long ago beneath the floor of their house. And disguising herself she bid him farewell and stole unseen into the army as it went.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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“I have come to take you from the place,” she whispered. “The Lord of the Tower has given me leave to rescue you.”

“No! You must go now! They will find you!”

“I will not leave you, Father,” she said. “Only tell me where to find the key.”

But as she spoke to him, her eyes were off the crystal, and she saw not the hands of the guards until they seized her from behind. Then she was dragged from her father’s cell, a hood pulled over her eyes, and she heard the fading of his voice as it cried out after her.

Strong, rough hands searched her clothes and took away all she carried. She was taken she knew not where, and felt herself placed in a cold metal chair where her hands were cuffed in place. Then her captors left, and she sat there a long while until the hood was removed at last.

Before her stood a steel table within a steel room, with the heart and crystal set upon it. And behind them a man with a cold, hard face and eyes of stone. She recognized him and felt her heart grow weak. For it was his image that stood upon every street and hung in every house: the Director of the Committee of Ten.

“So you are the mutant progeny of Citizen 301,” he said. “I see now that the State disposed of you immediately once your deformity was known. By what means did one such as you enter this place unseen?”

But she, remembering the Dark Lord’s final words to her, said nothing. Then the Director placed his hand upon the heart and crystal.

“Do not think I am blind. I know that your secret lies within these. What are they?”

Still she answered not. And he leaned forward, speaking to her in a voice of deathly quiet.

“Your father,” he said, “Is an Enemy of the People and a traitor to the New Order. He will die in the camps with all such traitors. But we have means of prolonging his suffering even now. Will you answer me? Or shall I have him brought here so that we can demonstrate them before your eyes?”

At this she was broken and told him all. As she did so, the Director listened and said nothing. But from time to time, his gaze fell upon the table, and it seemed to her that a strange light came into his eyes.

When she had finished, he turned and left. She found herself alone in the cell again for a time until he returned flanked by armed guards and carrying pen and paper.

“You have rendered the New Order a great service and shall be rewarded,” he said, and signed the paper. “You and your father are pardoned. Return to your home and take him with you. But know that from this day forth you both are watched. And a second offense against the State will be your last.”

Then a guard undid her cuffs while another took the heart and crystal. She was led to her father’s cell and left the prison with him leaning on her shoulder in the cold and starless night.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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At all other times, she had seen him within his own house. Now he was bound fast in a place of darkness and steel, and jailers with instruments of torment. The New Order had come for him at last.

Moved with fear, she sought out the Lord of the Tower and begged him leave. “Let me go to my father lest he die.”

Then the Dark Lord trembled in himself, for he was loath to see her go. Neither slave nor servant was she in his eyes, but a companion and friend whose presence had brought light into the shadow of his house. Nevertheless, he denied her not but took her to the chamber where the glowing jewel stood in its place.

“Neither I nor my servants can go with you,” he said, “For the Wood is our prison. But take this with you, for it is my heart. It shall protect you from the dangers of the Wood and guard you from prying eyes. Unwounded would I be if my wisdom had prevailed the night you fled and I had taken it with me. But you must beware. For its power will not long last beyond the boundary of the Wood, and it must not return here in any hands but your own.”

Then she gave him her solemn word, and he took the heart, which became small in his hand, and delivered it to her. Thus he bid her go, giving her also the magic crystal. Protected by one and guided by the other she left the Tower and traversed the Wood unharmed.

Then came she to the Wall and girt herself fast in her cloak. For here the true dangers began.

Through the breach she went and followed the path her father had taken when first she came with him. On her belly she crawled through the mud and filth and razorwire littered with bones of the slain. Many times she did halt and conceal herself as a light passed over or a soldier drew near. Many times she thought herself seen, but the heart protected her even as the Lord of the Tower had said. And the crystal showed her when dangers grew close.

Then at last she found herself within the city where she had passed her childhood. And looking deeper into the crystal, she found her father’s prison, which lay deep within a mighty edifice of iron and concrete, set within a district of the city where all feared to go. This she recognized, for it was where the Committee of Ten kept all its enemies, of which none returned alive.

She girt herself again, and taking the crystal in hand she made her way. Here also there were guards and watchtowers, but with the crystal’s guidance, she found her way past them all. Into the very building itself she went, and descended its levels to the last. Then she found herself in a dark corridor, dimly lit by the glow of sickly lights. In the distance there were groans of pain, screams of agony, the sounds of blows on battered bodies. Once or twice, she heard the crack of gunshots echoing through hollow steel. But her eyes she kept upon the crystal, and saw that her father yet lived.

Then at last she came to his cell. Pressing herself to the door she whispered, “Father, Father, it is I.”

From within a shape did stir and a weakened, fearful voice did answer. “Daughter! Why are you here?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Nevertheless, from that day forth, he granted to her the freedom of his Tower. No longer was she confined as before to a single room, but he showed to her all its secrets, and the means by which to find her way through its changing paths and passages. Its treasures too he showed to her and beauteous wonders, though he could say not from whence they came. And while they supposed as before by night, they would walk now and talk in the light of the day. Oft they went to the Tower’s highest point and she would show to him afar the lands beyond the Wood. And while they remained dim in his sight, it yet seemed that his vision grew daily more full and clear. There were times at which she almost perceived the likeness of eyes and face within the shadow of his helm. It was at these times that a dim stirring moved within her heart with a memory not her own, and the Name he sought from her lay almost upon her lips. But it would always flee from her like a ghostly vapor ere she could grasp and form it.

Many days and nights did they pass in this way, and in time the girl came to call the Tower her home. But there came a night on which she looked upon her father as she did every night through the magic crystal–and he was not as before.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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For anyone who would like to read The Helm in Seven in full from your own device, it is now available in ebook format for the price of $1.00 plus a tip (or none) of your choice. Down the road, I’ll be adding ebook versions of The Dread Heart and other serialized fiction projects, all of which will remain freely available here on Substack. This is just another option for those who would like the convenience. You can claim your copy at the button below.

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Yet from its depths, there issued a weakened yet familiar voice. “To the Tower. Quickly.”

Then he stretched out his arm, and pity overtook the fear in her heart, so that she helped him to his feet and bore him forth. He leaned upon her as one wounded. Yet as they neared the Tower, she felt his strength returning so that his weight grew less upon her shoulders. And she heard again the voice of the jewel calling, “Claraiel, Claraiel.”

Towards it they went and came to the pool before the Tower. But its water now became as solid glass, and they passed over it on foot. And as they entered the Tower, the girl found herself again within the enchanted hall which had led from her bedchamber. Through it they came to the room once more, and the light of the jewel surrounded them. Here the Lord of the Tower moved at last by his own strength, and he knelt before the jewel, placing his helm once more upon his shoulders.

“What is this place?” She asked him.

“That part of myself which is yet more than shadow,” he replied. “And in every hour and moment I depart from its light I begin to fade. But one day it will sustain me no longer. And with my passing, it too shall fall into darkness.”

Again he asked her: “Do you know my name?”

But she could only bow her head in sorrow. “I do not.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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But as the first of them leapt upon her, the very hand that had thrown her caught it by the throat. And the Lord of the Tower came against them with a terrible black mace. But though they feared his weapon, they hated him with steadfast spite. And seeing their Enemy, they turned from their prey.

Many fell and fled before his mace, but others took their place and bore upon him so that he was worn down beneath their numbers. From her hiding place the girl could only watch in terror, wondering all the while why he summoned not his bat-servants to his aid.

Then at last the Dark Lord gave a final cry of pain and fury and with his black mace struck the earth. The ground shook and a mighty blast flung the creatures away. They came no more upon him, but at the cry and quake now fled into the Wood.

But the Dark Lord himself did fall upon his knees before her as if all strength had left him. And the very helm slipped from his shoulders. And where the head of a man would be she saw only a drifting smoke.

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And he gave a violent thrust so that she flew and struck a pillar in the wall, sinking senseless to the floor. When sight came to her again, she saw the Dark Lord stalking towards her with a fell and murderous light. She rose at once and fled.

Then the Dark Lord came to himself, and sorrow smote him as he realized his deed. He called for her to wait, but she heard him not. Through the very hall she had come she ran, yet it led not now to her bedchamber but to the very entrance of the Tower, and its doors lay unlocked before her.

Fear gave her strength and speed so that she crossed the pool and entered the Wood with no memory of having swam. She thought to find the paths her father took, but they were nowhere in sight. For the Wood had shifted and reshaped itself in the manner of the Tower’s halls and stairs, leaving her lost in its depths. There were now no phantom shapes nor voices but only a deathly silence.

Then all at once she heard the raps of hungry breaths and the snapping of ravenous jaws. Beastly forms with bloodlit eyes emerged out of the darkness. The hunters of the Wood had come to claim their prey at last.

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Then at last she perceived a great light in the distance from which the voice had come. Towards it she went and came at last to a pair of mighty doors. These were of iron and yet glowed. And they opened inward as if awaiting her coming.

Then she looked in wonder, for before her was a vast room greater than any she had yet seen within the Tower. Within was neither torch nor lamp and yet neither trace of dark nor shadow, but rather the same mysterious light which had seemed to her cold and grim when first the Dark Lord took her within his walls. Now it burned full and bright and warm with its source plainly visible to her mortal eyes. For at the center of the chamber she saw a fiery white jewel, suspended by neither rope nor chain but hanging upon the empty air, its light gently pulsing with the beat of her own heart. And it called to her “Claraiel, Claraiel…”

Then that name burned within her so that a great desire kindled in her heart. And she came forth and reached out her hand to grasp the gem.

But even as she did so, she found her arm held fast in a grip of steel. A shadow fell, and the Dark Lord roared in rage. “How dare you!”

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And thus each day and each night passed in this way a long while. By day she dwelt in her chamber and gazed into the magic crystal, which both comforted and grieved her with visions of her father, safe now and yet deeply sad. By night she answered the three knocks at their appointed hour and dined at her master’s table. Long they would speak. She would tell the tales she had heard from her father’s lips, and the Dark Lord too shared stories of his own. Yet they were always incomplete and dim, as the fragments of forgotten memories. Each time he would end with the same question, and she would give the same answer. And a great despair took hold of her spirit.

But it came to pass one such night, when she had blown out her lamps and made ready to sleep, that a whisper came out of the darkness.

“Claraiel. Claraiel.”

Then she recognized the voice that had called her to the Tower those many days before, and she rose at once from her bed and lit a candle. Then the door of her chamber opened of its own accord as it had been wont to do when the Dark Lord summoned her. But the passage beyond was now of a different sort. Its walls were of painted stone depicting the images of some great mural she could see but dimly. Glimpses she had of a child, a prince, and a royal crown. She would have paused to see more clearly had the voice not urged her on.

“Claraiel. Claraiel.”

Then at last she perceived a great light in the distance from which the voice had come. Towards it she went and came at last to a pair of mighty doors. These were of iron and yet glowed.

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Then when the hourglass had run its course, there came three knocks at her door. And as she rose from her bed, it opened to reveal a great hall, richly gilt with colorful tapestries and carpets. Through this she walked and came to a dim chamber in which a mournful music played from instruments she could not see. At the center was a table laden with a repast of meats and fruits and delicacies and goblets of rich wine. The Lord of the Tower sat at its head, still clothed in the armor he never removed. And across from him there was set a place for her, so that she sat beneath the gaze of his terrible black helm.

To her surprise, the Dark Lord spoke to her kindly and bade her eat and drink, though she marked that he himself did neither, but rather breathed the fumes of burning vapors. And as she dined, he asked after her wound, which she now realized had healed the moment she entered the Tower’s walls. Of her life and home and family he enquired too. She answered gladly, yet the thought of her father pierced her heart and her eyes were downcast as she told him of her degenerate blood.

At this he rebuked her. “You speak the words of fools who have forgotten. T’was neither chance nor mischance you were born thus. None who wander in this Wood come away without enchantment, and oft I saw your father here. Some magic clung to him at his return and it passed to your mother as she conceived you in her womb. Though from where or whom it came or whether gift or curse or both I cannot say.”

Then he asked more of the life she led, and she told him of her father’s tales. “But surely, My Lord,” she said, “You would know them already. For the lands he spoke of lie on your own border, and you have magic to see where you do not walk.”

But the Dark Lord shook his head. “Beyond the Wood I have but dim sight of things beneath the sun. In this Tower I dwell, and do not pass my waters.”

Then he asked her a strange question: “Do you know my name?”

Abashed, she replied, “My Lord, I do not.”

In response he bowed his head. “Dine with me again tomorrow.”

Then he rose and left her, and she finished her meal alone in troubled silence.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Post-Enlightenment materialism has a set of assumptions that all previous generations (whether pagan, Jewish, and Christian) would have regarded as strange and nonsensical: 1) poetry does not describe reality, 2) human thoughts are “generated,” 3) new ideas are “made up.”

From the ancient (and medieval) viewpoint, this is almost exactly backward. Poetry has traditionally been the best means to describe reality. The human mind did not “generate” thoughts—it received or rejected them. And new ideas were not “made up”—they were “discovered.” Though the modern mind instinctively dismisses such language as literary conceit, it is the still the way most creatives describe their experiences, particularly in the “flow” state. Even in the hard sciences, many researchers derive their theories subconsciously in sudden flashes of insight. For most of human history, it’s been taken for granted that human invention and creativity originates from spiritual forces—the original meaning of the word “inspired” is literally “indwelt by spirits.”

The early Christian theologian Origen, writing in the third century AD, describes spiritual forces behind every human art from poetry to geometry:

“There are… certain special energies of this world, i.e., spiritual powers, which bring about certain effects, which they have themselves, in virtue of their freedom of will, chosen to produce, and to these belong those princes who practise the wisdom of this world: there being, for example, a peculiar energy and power, which is the inspirer of poetry; another, of geometry; and so a separate power, to remind us of each of the arts and professions of this kind.”1

There is also a clear sense, expressed in various ways by various thinkers throughout history (even after the onset of Enlightenment materialism) that these spiritual energies were located in a “realm” or “world” that was as real as the material world. This was how even pagan poets were able to perceive great truths and even unconsciously prophesy. The most famous example is the Roman poet Virgil’s “Fourth Eclogue,” which describes a divine savior being born to rule the world, and which Christian thinkers from Augustine to Dante have read as a prophecy of Christ.

https://catholicvote.org/did-romes-greatest-poet-a-pagan-predict-the-birth-of-christ/

Dr. Adam Walker at The New Renaissance speaks of it this way:

“The Renaissance philosophers believed in the reality of the mundus imaginalis, the world of the imagination. I borrow the term from a more recent philosopher, Henry Corbin, who argued that the mundus imaginalis was as real as the material world we inhabit. It was a firm belief in the imagination that ushered the most productive movements of literature. The English Renaissance which produced Spenser and Donne; the Romantic revivals led by the visionary poets Blake, Coleridge, and Wordsworth; the American Renaissance inspired by Emerson and Fuller, were all moments when the mundus imaginalis acted strongly upon the world of people and things. These were moments in literary history when the literary arts were imbued with the spirit.”

Kabbalistic Jewish sources locate this realm—known as “Yetzirah” or “The World of Formation”—within a cosmology of “five worlds,” each of which corresponds to a different level of the human soul. An in-depth description and discussion of each these five worlds can be found on James Ballard’s The Hidden Orchard Project. Yetzirah lies just above “Assiyah” or “The World of Action,” which is our everyday material reality. This plane is described as the world of human emotions, intellect, mental images, and patterns, which are shaped into lower forms of angels (both pure and impure) through their interaction with the human soul. There’s a saying in the Mishnah that “He who fulfills one mitzvah [commandment] acquires for himself one advocate, and he who commits one transgression, acquires against himself one accuser.”2

Compared to truly immortal angels from the higher world of “Beriah” (“Creation”), these entities are described as continually coming into and out of existence. But they can persist for a long time and exert influence on many more human minds and souls that those that initially formed them—in this way, Yetzirah functions quite similarly to Karl Jung’s “collective unconscious” and is probably the ultimate source of his much later idea.

But it doesn’t stop there. Jewish mystical tradition speaks of instances where entities from this realm can enter into “Assiyah” in shockingly tangible ways. Ancient texts such as the Sefer Yetzirah even purport to record true accounts of rabbis and sages who could physically manifest and interact with such beings—a representative example being a pair of rabbis who generated a calf and ate it. Later Jewish “golem” lore is an extension of the same concept.

Recall the microcosm-macrocosm relationship between Man and the Creation. What takes place within the human soul is reflected within the universe. Health or sickness within the one produces health or sickness within the other. And the implications of this are both wonderful and terrifying. In fact, it could explain many observed instances of “high strangeness” of paranormal phenomena.

I’ll use the following as just one example. In his classic work The Mothman Prophecies, researcher John Keel documented an explosion of unexplained sightings and phenomena within the town of Point Pleasant, VA during 1966-67. Many of these have since become fixtures of American popular mythology. They included everything from UFOs and poltergeists to encounters with strange cryptids and entities including not only the so-called “Mothman” but mysterious “Men in Black,” and bizarre preternatural characters such as “Indrid Cold” and “Apol.” Keel interacted with the latter several times via phone conversations though he never met him in person. In light of what we’ve covered above, his impressions are worth quoting in full:

“By this time Mr. Apol had assumed a definite personality… I studied his psychology, his quick temper, his mischievous sense of humor. I argued with him on the phone, sometimes for two or three hours at a stretch. And I felt sorry for him. It became apparent that he really did not know who or what he was. He was a prisoner of our time frame. He often confused the past with the future. I gathered that he and all his fellow entities found themselves transported backward and forward in time involuntarily, playing out their little games because they were programed to do so, living—or existing—only so long as they could feed off the energy and minds of mediums and contactees.” (The Mothman Prophecies, p. 120)

Elsewhere in his book, Keel noted a curious detail about certain UFO sightings that few other researchers in the field have seen fit to mention. Some have taken the shape of aircraft prototypes that designers have not yet built:

“This paranormal mimicry is difficult for many to understand but I come across constant examples. Early in January 1973, for instance, a reliable witness in Ohio observed an unusual-looking helicopter which she was able to describe in detail. When she sketched it for a local UFO enthusiast he was flabbergasted. He was an aeronautical engineer specializing in helicopters and he knew the thing she drew was a new secret helicopter that was still on the drawing board!” (The Mothman Prophecies, p. 51)

Using the “Five Worlds” paradigm, we could propose something like the following: if new ideas are not “generated” but rather pre-exist within the world of Yetzirah, then sightings of designed-yet-unbuilt aircraft prototypes could reflect the fact that they are “descending” into Assiyah via the minds of their designers (or more properly, “discoverers”). Perhaps this “conception stage” includes partial manifestation via the plasmoid organisms we discussed elsewhere?

It should be said that interactions with this realm are fraught and dangerous, particularly given the diseased and impure state of human consciousness since the Fall. Many if not most of the beings that manifest from Yetzirah into the world of Assiyah would consequently be both dangerous and untrustwrthy—and they could also serve as “clothing” or “mounts” for more explicitly malevolent forces from higher worlds (such as the fallen angels more familiar to traditional Christian theology).

We live in propitious and perilous times. The Mundus Imaginalis is polluted and shark-infested. But this points to the need for courageous souls who can strengthen the forces of purity within it by cultivating a holy and creative life.

Our thoughts (and our creations) are not just things—they are creatures.

“Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalted itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ…” (2 Corinthians 10:5)

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Chapter 2

Through shadows and mist and twisting paths she went and knew not the way, heeding neither phantom, terror, wraith nor ghost. Their cries were gone, and it was as if a great silence had descended upon the Wood, so that she heard only the single name that remained in her ears like the beating of a heart.

Claraiel.

She knew not how long nor far she went, but came at last to a place where the dark gave way.

Here the trees withdrew before a sky of ghostly twilight beneath which lay a pool of water blanketed with a mist that shone. From its depths there floated the notes of a whispered wordless song, sorrowful and deathly.

Beyond it lay a deep valley between two great mountains of rock. In the center there stood a mighty tower of black iron, dark and terrible. To this her eyes were fixed and did not turn away.

Claraiel.

A single step she took. But then another voice sounded from behind.

“Daughter!”

She turned as her father came out of the Wood, ashen-faced and trembling with fear as he grasped her shoulder.

“We must leave this place,” he whispered. “I saw it on the first of my travels here, and have shunned it since. It is the source of the danger which the New Order fears. Some dreadful fate lies within its walls. Come with me now before it comes for you!”

But even as he spoke there came a new sound out of the darkness. Not the groaning of shadows but the growl of hungered beasts. Shapes emerged from amongst the trees. Twisted, man-like forms blood-eyed, clawed and fanged, their bodies clothed in the remnants of tattered uniforms. And as the girl looked upon them, she knew what befell the army which had vanished.

“These are not phantoms,” said her father. “Fly!”

But even as he spoke they found themselves surrounded and could flee only towards the tower. The creatures were swift behind them, so that their claws tore at their backs and would have snared them. But they dove into the pool and swam for the other side. Their pursuers did not follow. And as they both climbed out, they saw them at the farther shore, prowling and snarling, and yet fearful of the water. Then one by one, they dispersed into the shadows of the Wood from which they came, so that the girl and her father were left alone beneath the tower.

Then her father turned and looked upon her. “My daughter! You are wounded!” For there lay a great bleeding gash upon her back where one of the creature’s claws had fallen.

But even as he stretched forth his hands to the wound, they heard a dark and dreadful voice.

“Who has dared to cross my sacred waters?”

Then they turned to behold a towering black form before the Tower itself. A living shadow it stood, clothed in armor and helm beneath which they saw naught and yet felt the ray of a terrible gaze in whose presence the twilight gave way to blackest night and darkness effaced the stars. The girl and her father it left with neither strength nor speech, and their bones became as water.

And yet as the stare fell upon her, it seemed to the girl that for the barest moment it paused and lingered, so that she perceived a glimmer of wonder and sadness. But as it turned on her father the dark voice spoke again, implacable and full of wrath.

“Long have I watched your comings and your goings, interloper, and forbore so long as you came not to my sanctum. But here I abide no trespassers and both your lives are forfeit. Speak now your final words ere I slay you and cast your flesh unto the monsters of the Wood.”

As the Lord of the Tower spoke thus, the girl regained her voice.

“Let your own law prevail on your own ground, my Lord, but I beg you do not thus. It is I who brought us here, and my father came but to stop me ere I transgressed your bounds. I make myself your slave forevermore. Only spare my father and let him go.”

“Daughter, no!” Her father cried. But it was as if the Dark Lord heard him not. For his gaze fixed silently upon the girl, and he raised his hand.

“So be it.”

Then from the tower there flew a cloud of dark, winged creatures with the bodies of men and the faces of bats. These grasped her father in their talons and drew him into the sky, carrying him back from whence he had come beyond the Wood and Wall.

Then the Lord of the Tower stepped forth and offered the girl his hand. And taking it she found his fingers cold as stone.

“Come,” he said, and led her into the Tower through a shadowed door.

Beyond it lay a great twisting stair within a hall that held no other doors, nor rooms, nor passages. Of blackened stone it was, and lit by a strange, grim light whose source she could not see. Within this he led her and they climbed. Hours it seemed and yet a moment of silence until they came before a second door which opened of its own accord.

Within it lay a room. Though it was too of stone, it was illumined by the candlelight of natural lamps and held a bed covered in silk upon an embroidered carpet. Upon one wall lay a great mirror before which was a table with a pitcher of water and a basin for washing. The other held a great window through which she saw the sky and Wood. And at the very center a raised pedestal atop which lay a ball of crystal.

“Here you shall dwell in my Tower,” said her host, “And will have food and drink and raiment. No service do I ask of you, save that you sup at my table each night. And the magic crystal shall show to you such things as you wish. Wash now, rest, adorn yourself, and be ready at the hour I shall summon you.”

Then he pointed toward an hourglass which lay before the mirror and which she had not seen before. Thus he left her and the door closed at his back. When his footsteps were done, she dared to open it. But where the hall had been there was now only open air with a great chasm far below. Then she understood some great enchantment lay upon the Tower and that she was truly a prisoner.

So she obeyed her Lord’s command and washed and dressed herself in a glittering gown and jewels that had been left for her upon the bed. Thus adorned, she stood before the mirror. Its like she had never seen, for in her own home all mirrors had been forbidden. Therefore she saw her own face clearly for the first time and the marks of her degenerate blood. And she lowered her eyes and wept.

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I’m keeping this post short. It goes without saying that I am neither a scientist, a philosopher, nor a theologian. I exactly none of the credentials or qualifications of any of those who have devoted their lives and work to those pursuits. It could be that I have completely understood and misinterpreted my sources or that those sources themselves are total nonsense. So at the risk of being revealed a fool, a lunatic, or both, yet in the spirit of the biblical counsel toward free and open speech (John 7:13, 10:24, 18:20, Acts 4:13, 4:29, Ephesians 6:19)… I may have stumbled onto a Grand Unified Theory of the Paranormal.

Let me explain. This past week, I’ve been delving into the “plasmoid” theory of UAP. This in turn led to a perusal of multiple peer-reviewed articles from serious researchers studying this subject through the lens of plasma cosmology (a well-established and credible theory from Swedish Nobel prize winner Hannes Alfven proposing that plasma constitutes 99.9 of all matter in the universe). To summarize, there is very credible scientific evidence that the objects known as UFOs/UAPs are a variety of “plasmoid,” which is a coherent, localized structure of plasma held together by magnetic fields and displaying independent behavior. These entities are ubiquitous throughout the universe, being found not only within the thermosphere (and elsewhere) on Earth but on the surface of the Sun and in interstellar space. They appear to play a (or even the) key role in sustaining the natural processes of our Earth and cosmos. And based upon repeated and documented empirical observations of their structure and behavior, they may, in fact, qualify as conscious, living organisms. Some theorists (operating, of course, within the parameters of their Darwinian-materialist worldviews) have proposed that they are a form of “pre-life” that served as chemical incubators for the genetic material we now find in full-fledged carbon-based biological organisms.

Adding yet another layer to the phenomenon, plasmoids have also been observed to cluster around and hitch rides across a network of electromagnetic filaments that are spread throughout the thermosphere and also exist between the Sun and the various planets in our solar system. The structure and function of this system mirrors the nervous systems and neural networks found within carbon-based life-forms. If it truly exists throughout the universe, then it strongly implies that the entire cosmos, is, in fact, conscious.

I’ve only scratched the surface of this material. But at this point, I would like to propose some theological implications:

God did not create dead matter. He created “pre-life.” What does this mean? Consider the following. In the Six Days of Creation, there is only one instance where God unambiguously creates ex nihilo. In all other instances—save his direct creation of man (“Let us make”)—He speaks a command and something responds.

I would therefore further propose:

Much of what we currently call “paranormal phenomena” is our conscious “pre-life” cosmos continuing to display on a small scale the generative abilities it once exercised on a grand scale at God’s command. And we may finally be observing firsthand the “subtle bodies” that generations of philosophers, theologians, and mystics have attributed to spiritual and elemental beings such angels, demons, fairies, djinn and more.

I invite you all to explore this material and draw your own conclusions. I’d also be interested to hear them. Enjoy!

Plasma Universe - Hannes Alfven

Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena, Extraterrestrial Life, Plasmoids, Shape Shifters, Replicons, Thunderstorms, Lightning, Hallucinations, Aircraft, Disasters, Ocean Sightings - Rhawn Gabriel Joseph, Olivier Planchon, Christopher Impey, Richard Armstrong, Carl Gibson, Rudolph Schild

Exploring the Link Between Paranormal Phenomena and Plasma Balls - Miguel A. Galán Santos, Stanley A. Koren

Celestial Spheres: Angelic Bodies and Hyperspace - Austin M. Freeman

The Interdimensional Universe—Part 1: Interdimensionality, the Origin of Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (UAP), and Mechanics of Travel between Planes - Paul Cunningham

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Then the Lord of the Tower stepped forth and offered the girl his hand. And taking it she found his fingers cold as stone.

“Come,” he said, and led her into the Tower through a shadowed door.

Beyond it lay a great twisting stair within a hall that held no other doors, nor rooms, nor passages. Of blackened stone it was, and lit by a strange, grim light whose source she could not see. Within this he led her and they climbed. Hours it seemed and yet a moment of silence until they came before a second door which opened of its own accord.

Within it lay a room. Though it was too of stone, it was illumined by the candlelight of natural lamps and held a bed covered in silk upon an embroidered carpet. Upon one wall lay a great mirror before which was a table with a pitcher of water and a basin for washing. The other held a great window through which she saw the sky and Wood. And at the very center a raised pedestal atop which lay a ball of crystal.

“Here you shall dwell in my Tower,” said her host, “And will have food and drink and raiment. No service do I ask of you, save that you sup at my table each night. And the magic crystal shall show to you such things as you wish. Wash now, rest, adorn yourself, and be ready at the hour I shall summon you.”

Then he pointed toward an hourglass which lay before the mirror and which she had not seen before. Thus he left her and the door closed at his back. When his footsteps were done, she dared to open it. But where the hall had been there was now only open air with a great chasm far below. Then she understood some a great enchantment lay upon the Tower and that she was truly a prisoner.

So she obeyed her Lord’s command and washed and dressed herself in a glittering gown and jewels that had been left for her upon the bed. Thus adorned, she stood before the mirror. Its like she had never seen, for in her own home all mirrors had been forbidden. Therefore she saw her own face clearly for the first time and the marks of her degenerate blood. And she lowered her eyes and wept.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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In 1981, British researcher Rupert Sheldrake released a book called A New Science of Life in which he detailed a revolutionary new theory he called “morphic resonance.” The key concept in this theory is the idea of “morphic fields,” which are non-material regions of influence that shape and organize physical systems. Sheldrake himself explains the idea the following clip and link.

This theory has a number of implications, but for our purposes here, I’ll share the most memorable one.

If you train a single rat in a lab to navigate a maze, then other rats in other labs (with no awareness of or contact with the first rat in the first lab) will more quickly learn to navigate identical mazes.

In Sheldrake’s system, this phenomenon follows from the fact that all rats participate in a single morphic field that records and transmits collective memory. It is, in fact, the source of their very identity as “rats.” Shifting to biblical language at this point, they all belong to rat “kind.” (Genesis 1:24)

While I am hardly a Thomist and have never delved into Aquinas’s thought at length, I’ll make this the occasion of my first foray into Thomistic metaphysics. Sheldrake’s theory shows remarkable convergence with the Thomistic concept of “substantial forms.” Mary Harrington from First Things Magazine provides a useful summary:

‘I’ve referred a few times so far to “the kind of thing something is.” “Substantial form” is a more succinct way of saying this. The substantial form of a thing organizes what it is. The catness of a cat, the dogness of a dog. Or the humanness of a human. Another term sometimes used in this context is “essence.” Substantial form is the essence of a thing. Accident, by contrast, is an attribute that can vary without making the thing a different kind of thing. A cat can be black, or ginger, or bobtailed, and still be a cat. If it has flippers or scales, though, it’s a different kind of thing.’1

It’s worth noting at this point that morphic fields can overlap. Every individual cell has its field as well as each internal organ within the larger field of the human body. Families and social groups have their own fields while still participating in the larger morphic field of “humanity.” And if Sheldrake’s theory is, in fact, correct, than ancient wisdom tells us that humanity itself is part of another, larger, morphic field that eclipses and encompasses all others.

Plato, writing 2,500 years ago in the Timaeus, states:

‘To the motions of the soul answer the motions of the universe, and by the study of these the individual is restored to his original nature.’2

Similarly, the ancient Jewish philosopher Philo of Alexandria writes:

‘Every man in regard of his intellect is connected with divine reason, being an impression of, or a fragment or a ray of that blessed nature; but in regard of the structure of his body he is connected with the universal world.’3

The 3rd century theologian Origen of Alexandria writes:

‘…that first heaven indeed, which we said is spiritual, is our mind, which is also itself spirit, that is, our spiritual man which sees and perceives God. But that corporeal heaven, which is called the firmament, is our outer man which looks at things in a corporeal way.’4

And St. Maximus the Confessor, writing in the 7th century:

‘…the whole universe (which is composed of visible and invisible things) is a human being, and again… a human being (who is composed of the soul and body) is the universe.’5

It was taken for granted in both ancient and medieval thought (whether pagan, Jewish, or Christian) that man was a “microcosm” (little world) that recapitulated and reflected the larger universe, which was in turn a “macrocosm” (great world) that reflected the inner nature of man. This was why when God said “cursed is the ground for thy sake,” (Genesis 3:17) He was not imposing a curse—the macrocosmic nature of the universe meant that it reflected what Adam and Eve had now become.

This leads us back to yet another key concept in Sheldrake’s theory: what we refer to as the “laws” of nature are actually more like “learned habits.”6 Einstein did not just “discover” nuclear fission. The detonation of the first atomic bomb allowed nuclear fission to more easily and commonly occur within nature.

The universe learns its habits by emulating ours. The great Orthodox theologian Kallistos Ware writes in his book The Orthodox Way:

‘Being microcosm, man is also mediator. It is his God-given task to reconcile and harmonize the noetic [spiritual] and the material realms, to bring them to unity, to spiritualize the material, and to render manifest all the latent capacities of the created order. As the Jewish Hasidim expressed it, man is called ‘to advance from rung to rung until, through him, everything is united’. As microcosm, then, man is the one in whom the world is summed up; as mediator, he is the one through whom the world is offered back to God.’7

Owen Barfield, a fellow Inkling and friend of C.S. Lewis, believed that in the earliest ages, this link between man and the cosmos was experienced with a particular tangible and palpable intensity. His book Saving the Appearances contrasted this state of “original participation” with modern “alienation,” whereby man now perceives a mechanical universe from the standpoint of a detached observer. C.S. Lewis gives us a partial picture in his novel That Hideous Strength in describing the character of Merlin:

‘There were still possibilities for a man of that age which there aren’t for a man of ours. The earth itself was mote like an animal in those days. And mental processes were much more like physical actions.’

—

‘[Merlin] is the last vestige of an old order in which matter and spirit were, from our modern point of view, confused. For him every operation on Nature is a kind of personal contact, like coaxing a child or stroking one’s horse. After him came the modern man to whom Nature is something dead — a machine to be worked, and taken to bits if it won’t work the way he pleases.’8

Over time, it became progressively more dangerous for man to remain in this state of original participation given the impure spiritual forces that had infested the Creation (see Monsters Are Real).

We can picture a generational cycle like the following: the moral and spiritual decline of one human generation caused a corresponding growth of impurity in the cosmos. Then the impurity of the cosmos would cause a spiritual and moral decline in the human generation that followed. Most commandments of the Mosaic law (including its dietary provisions) are, in fact, a protective measure against this cosmic impurity:

‘The power of sin enters through the four elements of the world; earth, air, fire and water. This is the equivalent of the body, spirit, time, and food. The laws of tumah [impurity] and tahara [purity] prevent the influence of sin through “spirits,” i.e. ruach ra [evil spirits]. Observance of a holiday or Shabbat might provide a buffer on that day from the influence of sin. From this we get the idea that there are “auspicious” or blessed days. However, failure in this observation (even accidentally) removes the buffer and exposes the person to sin’s influence. Eating kosher food deals with the level of food and various fasting and the like work on the level of the body.’ 9

But a path to healing of the corrupted cosmos was opened up with the Incarnation, Crucifixion, and Resurrection of God-made-man, who perfectly fulfilled the cosmic role given to humanity in the Garden. There is no going back to original participation. Contemporary attempts to do so—whether by imitating the magicians of old or the New Age pseudo-mystic occultists of our own times—can only produce a “counterfeit participation” in bondage to the dark powers who have infested and subverted the created order. But there is a final, Eucharistic participation now available in the Body and Blood of Christ the King.

“For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope, Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.” (Romans 8:19-22)

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Then they turned to behold a towering black form before the Tower itself. A living shadow it stood, clothed in armor and helm beneath which they saw naught and yet felt the ray of a terrible gaze in whose presence the twilight gave way to blackest night and darkness effaced the stars. The girl and her father it left with neither strength nor speech, and their bones became as water.

And yet as the stare fell upon her, it seemed to the girl that for the barest moment it paused and lingered, so that she perceived a glimmer of wonder and sadness. But as it turned on her father the dark voice spoke again, implacable and full of wrath.

“Long have I watched your comings and your goings, interloper, and forbore so long as you came not to my sanctum. But here I abide no trespassers and both your lives are forfeit. Speak now your final words ere I slay you and cast your flesh unto the monsters of the Wood.”

As the Lord of the Tower spoke thus, the girl regained her voice.

“Let your own law prevail on your own ground, my Lord, but I beg you do not thus. It is I who brought us here, and my father came but to stop ere I transgressed your bounds. I make myself your slave forevermore. Only spare my father and let him go.”

“Daughter, no!” Her father cried. But it was as if the Dark Lord heard him not. For his gaze fixed silently upon the girl and he raised his hand.

“So be it.”

Then from the tower there flew a cloud of dark, winged creatures with the bodies of men and the faces of bats. These grasped her father in their talons and drew him into the sky, carrying him back from whence he had come beyond the Wood and Wall.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Towards the beginning of the Genesis Rabbah, a classic medieval Jewish midrash on the Book of Genesis, there is a very mysterious line:

“Other worlds were created and destroyed ere this present one was decided on as a permanent one.”1

This is not an isolated statement in Jewish tradition, but one corroborated from a variety of Talmudic and rabbinical sources, many of which speak of “974 generations before Adam”:

“The Holy One, Blessed be He, said to them: He came to receive the Torah. The angels said before Him: The Torah is a hidden treasure that was concealed by You 974 generations before the creation of the world, and You seek to give it to flesh and blood? As it is stated: “The word which He commanded to a thousand generations” (Psalms 105:8). Since the Torah, the word of God, was given to the twenty-sixth generation after Adam, the first man, the remaining 974 generations must have preceded the creation of the world.” (Shabbat 88b)

Many Jewish commentators, past and present, have interpreted this concept in a variety of ways. Some have favored a mystical concept of “spiritual worlds” or “spiritual generations” while others (particularly in recent times) have applied the concept quite literally. James Ballard at the Hidden Orchard Project writes:

“The short version of the story is that these earlier generations, for the most part, came and went. These generations are often referred to as civilizations or worlds.

“In general, the idea of earlier civilizations is something many cultures have shared throughout time, such as the lost city of Atlantis.

“It is difficult to comprehend the timeframe we’re looking at, but it’s plausible that it spans billions of years. It seems some of them may have run their course, while others became corrupt in one way or another and underwent a mass extinction event, much like the flood in the Torah.”2

Naturally enough, many modern Jewish rabbis (and Christian theologians) see this idea as a means of reconciling Darwinian evolution with the biblical account of Creation. But I’ll put my own cards on the table at this point: I am an unapologetic Six-Day Creationist who takes a straightforward reading Genesis 1. So what significance could an idea like this possibly have for someone of my persuasion? Isn’t this precisely the kind of “Jewish fable” Paul warns about in his epistles (Titus 1:14)? Isn’t it clearly being used to accommodate Scripture to Darwinism in precisely the way generations of Creationist scholars have fought against?

Well, not so fast.

In 1994, physicist Dr. Russell Humphreys published a fascinating book called Starlight and Time, which marked the first serious entry of Creationist scholarship into the field of cosmology. Many Creationist scholars up to that point, lacking Dr. Humphrey’s rigorous physics background and seeing the field as inherently dominated by an evolutionary perspective, had avoided it altogether. Building on the mathematics of Einstein’s General Relativity, the book constructs an original model that reconciles the Six Days of Creation with the vast timespan required for light to reach Earth from distant parts of the universe. As Dr. Humphreys explains:

“…when the expanding universe was at a critical size (about fifty times smaller than it is now), gravitational time dilation would have been very important. My theory proposes that the cosmos was at that critical size during the fourth day of Creation Week. While one ordinary day was elapsing on earth, billions of years worth of physical processes were taking place in distant parts of the universe. This allows starlight from even the most distant star to arrive during or soon after the fourth day, the same day God created all the stars. During that day, most of the expansion of the cosmos would have taken place.”3

In Aliens are Elves, we covered how intelligent life could exist elsewhere in the universe without compromising man’s unique status as the living image of God. But this facet of Jewish tradition—filtered through Dr. Humphrey’s model—could show why it could exist. Recall the strong hints that the angelic hierarchy contains more (perhaps far more) varieties of creatures than the “bodiless intelligences” that are the subject of most historical Christian theology. What if God allowed these creatures eons of time in which to live, reproduce, and grow ancient within their very own cultures and civilizations as He created our Earth—which was the very pinnacle and paradise of all Creation, incorporating the very best of what came before? Once the Six Days were complete, these pre-Adamic beings could have descended to Earth from across the universe to become the stoichea we mentioned in Legends Are True. To quote James Ballard again on the 974 generations:

“It is believed that some of these beings were made into angels, some into demons, and still others may have retreated to a subterranean existence.”4

For the benefit of my fellow Creationists, let’s run through some objections.

The main objection from which most others follow is the presence of sin and death before the Fall. The idea of multiple civilizations and worlds rising, falling, and suffering destruction (especially over “billions of years”) raises the same theological challenges as “theistic evolution.” But I will point out that historical Christian theology already assumes an implicit “Fall before the Fall” in the form of Lucifer’s rebellion and a “War in Heaven” taking place either just before or during the Creation Week. Some conservative Protestant theologians such as Thomas Chalmers, G.H. Pember and C.I. Scofield even believed that Lucifer reigned over a prior earth that suffered destruction from this conflict and was left “without form and void” as we see in the Genesis account. So the Jewish concept introduces no new difficulties about reconciling the presence of primordial sin with a “very good” creation. As we see in older paradigms, it remains sequestered in the “outer cosmos” without breaking into Earth and Eden until Adam and Eve’s transgression.

Further, present-day Creation Scientists already accept the reality of cell death and plant death as part of the original order of Creation. And least one early Christian theologian, Basil of Caesarea, allowed for the possibility of animal death before the Fall.5 And there are also Second Temple Jewish texts (some of which have made their way into the Deuterocanon) which describe Adam and Eve as having been created mortal.6 Immortality, from this standpoint, was a gift they would have received from partaking of the Tree of Life. They could perhaps have shared this gift as part of their command to fill the earth and subdue it. In its newly-created state, all life on Earth could have been sufficiently long-lived that no deaths took place in the interval, and it would have remained peaceful, herbivorous, and harmonious throughout. The death Adam and Eve ultimately received from their disobedience would thereby be the spiritual death of severed communion with God, rendering all subsequent physical death uniquely terrible and robbing the wider Creation of the incorruption it was meant to receive through the Tree of Life.

Also, the “billions of years” this model assumes are not a fudge to rescue Darwinian evolution by relocating it from our Earth to elsewhere in the universe. While some might seize on it for that purpose, that says more about their own particular predilections than what the model actually implies. As someone who has always found Darwinism both ugly and distasteful, I’m inclined to think that pre-Adamic civilizations in the wider cosmos would have experienced growth and development of a sort more resembling the stories of Tolkien and Lewis than the deadening naturalism of secular biology textbooks.

Finally, I’ll address a wider audience with the following: as far as I can discern, there is nothing in this model which would contradict either the Scriptures or the Tradition of the Church. It need not imply an “Origenist” metaphysics of the sort that multiple councils have condemned (nothing about it demands, for example, that the souls of any such pre-Adamic beings be reborn in human bodies). Nor do I intend to assign Jewish Tradition a magisterial authority over the Church’s interpretation of Scripture or adopt fables that turn from the truth (Titus 1:14). Rather, I offer it the same fair hearing which the Fathers of the Church offered to the works of the Greek philosophers. As the great ecclesiastical historian Socrates Scholasticus once stated:

“…both Christ and his Apostle enjoin us ‘to become discriminating money-changers,’ so that we might ‘prove all things, and hold fast that which is good‘: 1 Thessalonians 5:21 directing us also to ‘beware lest any one should spoil us through philosophy and vain deceit.’ Colossians 2:8 But this we cannot do, unless we possess ourselves of the weapons of our adversaries: taking care that in making this acquisition we do not adopt their sentiments, but testing them, reject the evil, but retain all that is good and true: for good wherever it is found, is a property of truth.”7

I present this not a dogma but a theologoumenon (“pious opinion”) humbly contributed to the Great Conversation of the Church. Our Earth was indeed created in Six Days. And yet the history we see written in the stars is no mere fiction, but the record of something real. The Holy Scriptures are an inexhaustible treasury of precious jewels and hidden mysteries. If nothing else, I hope this reflection can help inspire others to search them out.

“It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter.” (Proverbs 25:2)

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