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#1208
 	From: Timelord2029...
Date: Sun Nov 10, 2002 1:36 am
Subject: The Sunday Times Magazine (UK) pays TDS and Pru a visit 	psitrooper24
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Has some 'cool' photos in the original copy of this transcript
which you might want to check out if you can get hold of a copy.

Peace,
Tunde

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/TGD/tgdEmailArticle/1,,2099-464614,00.html

The Sunday Times Magazine

November 10, 2002

Super snoopers: How psychic spies are using remote viewing to fight the war
against terror
American psychic spies say they're helping to fight President Bush's war on
terror. They claim they predicted the September 11 attacks in a drawing
(above). But can 'remote viewing' really beat Al-Qaeda? By Tony Barrell

Believe it or not, some Americans can see clear over to the East Coast from
the West Coast. I am with one of them - a 36-year-old woman called Prudence
Calabrese, who runs an extraordinary company called TransDimensional Systems.
We are in California but, through the miracle of 'remote viewing', we're
looking at New York City, and a large circular structure that is mostly
underground. It has a lift of some sort, a boxy elevator that carries people
down into the interior. A girl or woman has just come out of the elevator and
is running frantically. She has an urgent mission; she is worried sick about
something and has to get somewhere fast. She may be tripping or stumbling. It
is a matter of life and death, and most likely concerns an act of terrorism.
It could be a chemical or biological attack, and a large body of water is
involved.
I'm told that this is the future. We don't know who the panicky runner is, or
whether she's one of the good guys or the bad guys. We can't be sure where it
is in New York, and we don't have the date, but Pru Calabrese and the team
she heads are sure it's going to happen. 'This will be related to whatever
the next attack is in New York,' she says, as she pores over the dozen A4
pages of pen-scribble that constitute the prediction. 'And it sure looks like
a terror attack on the water supply. But it could be something that's
affecting the groundwater, or something that's been let loose where there's a
big pool of water.'
Pru and her colleagues at TDS say they are psychic spies of the type that
both the Americans and the Russians employed during the cold war. Amazingly,
remote viewers claim to be able to extend their consciousness to see, feel,
smell and taste things that are thousands of miles away. Spooks in both
senses of the term, their highly trained, supernaturally attuned minds
supposedly allow them to walk through walls and pull out heavily guarded
information without detection. Even linear time is no obstacle to their
talents: they can zip back into history, and into the future. Unlike
America's cold-war viewers, who worked for highly classified programmes with
weird code names like Stargate and Grillflame, Pru and her team don't operate
under the aegis of government departments like the Central Intelligence
Agency and Defense Intelligence Agency. TDS is a one of several commercial
companies formed in a kind of privatisation of this craft that accelerated
after the US remote-viewing programmes were officially declassified in 1995.
So, while she claims to pass information regularly to agencies such as the
FBI, Pru's firm also takes on a coruscating variety of private projects:
everything from tracing embezzled money and predicting the outcome of
corporate mergers to scanning human bodies, Fantastic Voyage-style, to
diagnose health problems.
Stuck in a characterless office building in the city of Carlsbad, a drab
sprawl between Los Angeles and San Diego in California, I initially wonder if
I have somehow wandered into a story by Philip K Dick, the paranoid American
sci-fi writer who lived most of his life in this US state, and whose
near-future dystopias were often peopled by 'precogs' and 'teeps', freaks
with precognitive and telepathic powers. Indeed, the Spielberg movie Minority
Report, based on a Dick story of 50 years ago, is uncannily close to home for
Pru. Tom Cruise plays the head of a police department known as Precrime,
which obtains data about future murders from 'precogs' and then arrests the
would-be perps before they perpetrate - just as Pru and co try to anticipate
Al-Qaeda attacks. 'We target the minds of terrorists and spill their demonic
plans onto paper,' she says, 'and cross our fingers that our report helps
lock them behind bars.'
Wouldn't it be wonderful if this were true, if an ability normally relegated
to genre fiction, tacky comic books and gypsy shacks on rotting seaside piers
could be harnessed to defeat the most terrifyingly and unpredictably
destructive force of the modern age? It would be the fulfilment of a mass
childhood fantasy; as if all the wishful thinking that generated America's
most vivid fictional creations - Superman, the Fantastic Four, the X-Men and
their ilk - had accelerated human evolution in a supreme imitation of art by
life. Disappointingly, Pru and her staff don't wear capes or drive
Batmobiles. When I meet five of her co-viewers I am impressed by how pleasant
and, well, ordinary they are. I would say 'down to earth' if they didn't
claim to frequently enjoy out-of-body experiences. My impression appears to
confirm what the US secret services reportedly discovered back in the 1970s:
that remote viewing is a skill that can be taught to almost anyone, even
meatheads in the military.
'I don't consider it a special ability,' says one of the team, Cy Shinkawa, a
49-year-old Hawaiian Clark Kent who used to work in an electrical-gadget
shop. 'In fact, I'm probably a good example of somebody who doesn't have any
special abilities. I heard an interview with a remote viewer on a night-time
radio show, I heard it was teachable and I just decided to take this thing
on.'
If there is a common quality uniting these psi-spies, it's a sense that there
is much more to this universe than meets the eye, that the world is not
enough - though this may be a mindset you arrive at when you've been
astral-travelling a few times. 'You realise after a while that what you see
here as reality is just a sliver of what's out there,' says Cy. 'It does
something to your ego first of all; it's a humbling feeling.'
'I was interested in the perspective of some kind of galactic coalition - you
know, is there a bigger cosmic connection to other beings that we have?' says
another TDS viewer, Roma Strong Zanders, 37, who still has a jewellery
business with her father and calls herself a 'jill of all trades'.
'I have a very holistic viewpoint,' says the team's second in command, John
Vivanco, 35, a Buddhist who used to do marketing work for a clothing store.
'We wouldn't be able to do this work if we weren't truly one with everything.'
Pru, whose background is in the hard-science world of cyclotronics - esoteric
particle-acceleration stuff - agrees. 'You get this weird understanding of
humanity - you start to see that we're very much interconnected, and you see
the underpinning of everything. It changes you.'
There are no crystal balls or sheep's entrails involved in this psychic day
job: just pen and paper and the subconscious mind, essentially. Remote
viewing may be the freakball bastard offspring of ESP and automatic writing,
but it is presented as hocus without the pocus, mumbo without the jumbo.
Their methods are adapted from American military techniques from the 1970s
and 80s, so they have a strict, pseudo-scientific protocol. Much of their
viewing is totally 'blind' - that is, the 'objective', or target, is
described on a piece of paper that the viewers do not see; it may be sealed
in an envelope somewhere. They assign eight random digits to each objective -
4585 2254, say, for 'What will be the next terror attack in New York City?',
or 7160 2588 for 'The crucifixion of Jesus Christ' - and mark their first
sheet with the date, the time, and a secret-agenty code name, like Pink
Panther or Modesty Blaise.
'We always use code names,' says Pru, 'because if you're turning them in to
law enforcement, you'd never want a perpetrator to find out who might have
collected information.' Then the viewer starts doodling, much in the way that
you or I create Biro masterpieces while on the phone. The first doodle, known
as the 'transit line', can fill much of the first page, and is merely a
'psychological tool', a gateway to the right mental state. The goal is a
theta brain-wave pattern, a kind of cerebral twilight zone, encouraging both
the subconscious mind and the body to give up the data they secretly hold.
The rationalising conscious mind is kept out of the task as much as possible.
Brian Eno-ish ambient music is often used, with earphones, to help you reach
remote-viewing nirvana.
Theta waves, which have a frequency range of four to seven cycles per second,
are normally present during sleep, profound meditation and transcendental
shamanic rituals.On the second page, Pru explains, 'The viewer starts out by
writing down the random numbers again, and then they let their hand do this
quick, automatic doodle; it's called an 'ideogram', and it tells us on a kind
of gestalt level something very basic about your objective.' The basic
ideograms are redolent of Jungian archetypes, encapsulating ideas such as
'mountain', 'water', 'man-made structure', 'subject' (person or other living
thing) and 'energetics' (movement) in simple lines and squiggles. These are
then 'probed' with the pen or the hand to access mystical information.
The viewing-and-writing process then becomes more elaborate, with written
descriptions of sensations and more detailed sketches, and ends with a
complex tabulation known as 'the matrix' - a term that brings yet another
reality-stretching sci-fi movie to mind.
'The whole process is very draining,' says Pru, 'and it burns a lot of
calories, so you have to eat a lot. You'll lose weight! And it requires so
much concentration, you'll get headaches if you're not used to it.' Remote
viewing is one of the few fields in which the consumption of chocolate is
recommended. 'It really helps,' says Pru. Coffee, too, 'as long as you time
it so that you do your session at the height of your caffeine high'. Other
viewers will brave the taste of mugwort tea.
Often a viewer will work with a 'monitor', someone who will metaphysically
hold their hand as they scan a target, offering esoteric advice like 'Focus
on the most recognisable part of the objective,' or asking sensible-sounding
things like 'What kind of building are you in?' All 14 of TDS's operational
viewers will sometimes be looking at the same target simultaneously. 'And it
takes a lot of sessions to put together a formal report to really answer a
question,' says Pru.
If what they say is true, TDS predicted an American nightmare 41/2 years
before it happened. Pru shows me scribbles that describe 'crashing',
'screaming', 'smoke', and there is a big drawing of an aeroplane crashing
into one of a pair of skyscrapers, with a crude representation of the Statue
of Liberty in the foreground. The viewing is dated March 10, 1997.
'Ain't that amazing? We stuck these things up on the internet and wrote an
open letter to the FBI, warning them that something was going to happen, but
at the time no one seemed to take it seriously. Most people laughed at us,
frankly.'
On September 12, 2001, Pru set her team the objective of 'the next terror
attack in the United States'. What they came up with was 'that the next thing
would be biological, like anthrax. And we knew it was domestic: it wasn't
Middle Eastern terrorism, it was somebody associated with the military'. At
some point the authorities apparently started taking TDS seriously, because
they called the company in to check on the integrity of the retaining wall
under the Hudson river, says Pru. After the collapse of the World Trade
Center, there was concern that the wall could be damaged by the clean-up
operation. 'It could have flooded all of lower Manhattan. So we looked at
that, and we figured out very quickly that there would be no problem - it was
rock-solid.'
Predictably secretive, America's intelligence organisations refuse to confirm
or deny that they use information from TDS and similar bands of super-heroes.
Nor can Pru reveal the names of her government contacts. That's exactly how
it should be - but the fact that it gives me no access to evidence that these
people really are government spies, and not delusional screwballs, seems very
convenient. And even if we assume the federal link is genuine, how can we be
certain that their remote viewing works? Anyone with real precognitive
abilities would surely not need to work at all, having gathered enough future
lottery numbers and stock-market tips to permit them to retire in the
tropical paradise of their choice. And even that argument presupposes that
'time travel' of any kind is possible, when 'time' is arguably a man-made,
poetic abstraction, offering no more potential for travel than 'dignity' or
'fashion'.
But our super-heroes claim not only to visit the future: they alter it too.
'If you look at a future terror event,' says Mike, 'and you inform the FBI or
the homeland security people, and they act on it and increase security, when
you revisit the same event later...''... you see the extra security that was
not there before,' Pru chips in. How, I ask her, does remote viewing work?
'Nobody knows - that's the really cool thing,' she says. 'If you ask the
military guys or different researchers, everybody has their own theory.'
These include the idea that Jung's 'collective unconscious' is real and can
be tapped into, the concept that an electromagnetic force is being projected
from the body, and even more abstruse notions concerning quantum physics.
Some hard-line Muslims, hearing that remote viewers were being recruited by
the US, have fingered demonic forces. 'People communicating with the jinn who
have extraordinary power of movement?' speculates a UK mujaheddin website.
The most obvious application of remote viewing in the war on terror is to
look for the chief perp, the elusive Osama Bin Laden. 'We've done that
internally, just for kicks,' says Pru, 'but we would never do a formal report
on it and send it in, because that might be used to drop bombs, which would
be a problem for some of the viewers. Not that they're sympathetic to
terrorists, but it's a humanitarian concern. But we know where he is now.
He's still alive. His health is not great, but he's not close to death at the
moment.'
Another remote-viewing company, Psi Tech, based in Seattle, has been more
co-operative on this score. On February 22 its president, Joni Dourif,
reported that 'we have looked at Osama Bin Laden's present location and to my
surprise we find him alive and being held captive. He is injured and would
prefer to die and become a martyr for his cause. However, his captors are
keeping him alive'. Just over a week later, Psi Tech announced that he
appeared to be in Bangladesh - one of its viewers had spontaneously received
the colours of the Bangladeshi flag, and others sketched famous monuments in
the same country.
Mid-August, via the wonders of remote communication, I ask Joni for an
update. Bin Laden is not being held captive any more, she says. 'The
situation changed within weeks after his capture. He then moved on to one of
his sanctuaries, where he still remains. We speculated that he was captured
by rogues and that some kind of exchange was negotiated for his release.' Is
Psi Tech giving its remote-viewing data to the US government? And is the
government acting on it? 'Yes, we have, and I don't know - I haven't asked
and they haven't offered up information.'
Commercial remote-viewing companies are, of course, in competition with each
other, so there is much talk about differences of method and quality of
service in the field. Joni Dourif stresses that Psi Tech uses are the
authentic, unchanged protocols from the military programmes. TDS,
however,admits it has adapted the protocols - and has plans to continue
changing them to obtain better results. 'Remote viewing is really at an
embryonic stage,' says John Vivanco. 'We're missing something here; there's a
bigger picture. We work within this very strict framework to keep our
conscious mind busy, in order for the subconscious to communicate the
information that we're looking for. But there's something a bit too
restrictive about it; I can feel something on the periphery which is bigger
and more profound than just staying within this little protocol here. And I'm
desperately searching for that.'
The viewers' chat is richly seasoned with jargon. They talk about 'blending'
- becoming one with certain people, or even animals, in the past, present or
future: getting into their heads, thinking their thoughts and seeing out of
their eyes. Pru and her staff claim to have blended with Adolf Hitler. Monica
Lewinsky and all of the Beatles. Then there's 'bilocation' - being present in
two places at once, and thereby suffering remote physical consequences. John
says he has been in Dresden during the 1945 allied fire-bombing of the city,
and he came back with real flesh burns. And they love talking about
'paraphysicals'. These are weird, supernatural entities that they
occasionally encounter when viewing. 'I've gotten specific information from
ghosts of human beings,' says John. 'They seem to be caught in a cycle of
thoughts that keep them in the same place.'
Aliens can also count as paraphysicals. Pru says the whole team has travelled
back to 1947 to see the UFO crash in Roswell, New Mexico. 'That's one of our
favourite things to go to, because it's so interesting. I actually had a
conversation with one of the aliens who were dying. I'm going to start crying
now thinking about it, because this military guy was kicking this alien and
it was dying, and the alien was screaming at me, 'Help me, help me,' and
there was nothing I could do.'
These folk, it transpires, are oracles for any conspiracy theory you can
think of. For example, who really shot JFK? 'I've sent viewers out to that
many times,' replies Pru, 'and there are multiple gunmen - the whole nine
yards.'
Mark Faber, 53, says he has seen his own death - in 1804. 'In one of my past
lives I was a historical figure - Alexander Hamilton. He's on the $10 bill.
He was killed in a duel. When I viewed it, I knew it was me; the dominant
feeling was déja vu.'
Nor are their wanderings restricted to planet Earth. In a project carried out
for a toy company, TDS has been to the open star cluster of the Pleiades and
retrieved the design of a popular child's plaything; Earth's first 'alien
toy' is, they say, already on its way to the terrestrial market.
The viewers seem very gung-ho about going 'off planet'. Mark has 'travelled'
to Mars and seen aliens building the structure that has gained notoriety
among believers as 'the face on Mars'. 'It had a humanoid face,' he says. 'I
saw it being constructed in a manner unlike Earth structures, using energy.'
Has he been to the moon? 'I've been inside the moon,' he says. 'I drew a very
detailed man-made corridor lined with patterned tiles, and I observed a
medical procedure being performed on someone by human beings.'
Lost in a conversation of spiralling strangeness about whether the moon might
really be an artificial construction, I hunger for evidence that these lovely
people aren't total charlatans or away with the fairies. It turns out that
they have two ways to vindicate themselves. Firstly, as part of their
evangelical mission to spread this technique around the world, they give
regular classes - and I can attend some of the lessons they are giving in
Carlsbad before I leave, and become a viewer myself. Secondly, they will do a
demonstration: I can choose any subject, anything in the universe, not tell
them what or where or when it is, and off their little astral bodies will
fly. I can hardly wait.
'6088 3382' were the magic numbers of one of the class's objectives. We all
sat at our desks, floaty music in our lugholes, pens scratching wildly. Maybe
it was the mugwort tea I sipped, but I was 'receiving' something almost
immediately.
I drew a loop, the kind of ideogram that usually indicates a 'subject', or
living thing. I ended up with a sketch of a bearded bloke smoking a
cigarette, in front of what could have been a glass of whisky. 'Smell of soap
or cologne,' I wrote. 'Manual work... Plain clothing.' I went on to draw a
stack of burning twigs. 'Rhythmic music... tribal sounds... people running
from smoke and loud noise.' Eventually, Mike Faber revealed where he tried to
send us. It was 'Elton John playing at Princess Diana's funeral'. Well, you
can speculate wildly that my hairy man was just one of the spectators, my
burning twigs really a candle in the wind, but I'm not remotely convinced.
We had homework, the numbers '7899 1492', which I tackled in my hotel room. I
got this: 'Structure, natural... jagged lines... beeping sound... water,
splashing... red glow... crevices... engineering... smell of oil, petrol...
hard work... wheels with tyres...' When I get into class, I find I was
viewing 'Evel Knievel jumping Snake River Canyon'. I suppose this was a
partial success. But it was within the bounds of coincidence - always an
underestimated factor in life - and I could even have picked up the nature of
the target at an early stage through sophisticated suggestion. After all, the
lessons I attended were so long and intensive, they did put me into a
hypnagogic state.

At 7.30am on my last day in Carlsbad, four super psi-spies rap on my
hotel-room door. They are relaxed but serious. They have a ream of A4 paper,
some pens and refreshments. I let them in. My written objective is safely
concealed in a brown envelope.
Pru is viewing, with Roma as her monitor, and John and Cy are similarly
paired. As people whack tennis balls outside and small aeroplanes come in to
land at the nearby airport, they start remote-viewing. Here are the
highlights:
The idea of something regular and repeating... There's a weird sound, too, a
kind of scratching, repeating sound... He's looking at something... There's
something about his eyes: maybe he's got glasses on, or goggles... He knows
what's going to happen, or he's waiting for it. It's kind of useless to try
and stop it... The subject's thinking: 'Don't look at it!' I don't know why
he won't look at it... Plexiglas... Some control-type desk, with lights on
it... But there was an unexpected element involved with this, out of the
subject's control... It's like they're trying to fit something together...
Feeling of sadness... It's a space kind of thing... You can't judge what's
going to happen before it happens...'Wow! Oh cool!' says Pru when I reveal
the objective after just over an hour. It was 'The making of the movie
Minority Report'.
Pru generously gives me a paperback book she has written, in which she admits
to being an alien contactee. Apparently, every morning for more than three
years, she met a 'short grey dude' in her bathroom. Oh, hell. Like Tom Cruise
in the movie, I need to escape. Fast.

Just before this feature goes to press, Pru calls me in London. I ask, just
jesting, if she has looked into the future and read the piece already. Yeah,
she says, and laughs. I ask if she is joking. She says no, she is deadly
serious: they viewed the feature a while ago. It looked 'okay', and that was
their basis for agreeing to talk to me in the first place.

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

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#1219
 	From: Bill Pendragon 
Date: Mon Nov 11, 2002 1:49 am
Subject: Re: The Sunday Times Magazine (UK) pays TDS and Pru a visit 	docsavagebill
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Hi Tunde,

This URL requires you to email the article to yourself
in order to read it.a little awkward..but thanks!

Bill*

> Has some 'cool' photos in the original copy of this
> transcript
> which you might want to check out if you can get
> hold of a copy.
>
> Peace,
> Tunde
>
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/TGD/tgdEmailArticle/1,,2099-464614,00.html
>
> The Sunday Times Magazine