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From: Timelord2029... Date: Sun Nov 10, 2002 1:36 am Subject: The Sunday Times Magazine (UK) pays TDS and Pru a visit psitrooper24 Offline Offline Send Email Send Email Invite to Yahoo! 360° Invite to Yahoo! 360° 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] Reply | Forward


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 Offline Offline Send Email Send Email Invite to Yahoo! 360° Invite to Yahoo! 360° 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

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