To be is to be contingent: nothing of which it can be said that "it is" can be alone and independent. But being is a member of paticca-samuppada as arising which contains ignorance. Being is only invertible by ignorance.

Destruction of ignorance destroys the illusion of being. When ignorance is no more, than consciousness no longer can attribute being (pahoti) at all. But that is not all for when consciousness is predicated of one who has no ignorance than it is no more indicatable (as it was indicated in M Sutta 22)

Nanamoli Thera

Tuesday, November 3, 2026

Mediumship, Channeling, and The Joe Fisher Story


When spirits begin to speak with man, he must beware lest he believe them in anything; for they say almost anything; things are fabricated by them, and they lie; for if they were permitted to relate what heaven is, and how things are in the heavens, they would tell so many lies, and indeed with solemn affirmation, that man would be astonished…They are extremely fond of fabricating: and whenever any subject of discourse is proposed, they think that they know it, and give their opinions one after another, one in one way, and another in another, altogether as if they knew; and if man then listens and believes, they press on, and deceive, and seduce in diverse ways. – Emanuel Swedenborg, Spiritual Diary, 1622


When it comes to encounters with “hungry ghosts,” no story is more disturbing and tragic than that of Canadian journalist and best-selling author Joe Fisher. Fisher committed suicide at age 53 on May 9, 2001, throwing himself off a limestone cliff at Elora Gorge, Canada. His body was discovered by a group of teens. One newspaper suggested he may have been murdered. Shortly before his death, Fisher’s final book,The Siren Call of Hungry Ghosts, an investigation into channeling and spirit guides – described by its publisher as “his gripping journey into a realm of darkness and deception” – was republished by Paraview Press. What gives this story a strange twist is that, in one of his last communications with editor Patrick Huyghe, Fisher stated that the spirits he had allegedly angered as a result of writing the book were still causing him trouble.Fisher’s works include the metaphysical classics Life Between Life, Predictions and The Case for Reincarnation, the last of which includes a preface by the 14th Dalai Lama. In an article on the topic of “spirit possession,” Colin Wilson, who acknowledges Fisher as a friend, mentions that he “had been cheerful and normal, and no one, including myself, could believe that he had killed himself.” He mentions, moreover, that Fisher believed in life after death and subscribed to the theory of reincarnation. “What baffled me was that he must have been convinced that suicide would only leave him with another set of problems.”

Wilson has a point, because in The Case for Reincarnation, Fisher had written: “Those who learn that they have killed themselves in past lives are quickly brought to the realization that suicide, far from being an answer to life’s problems, is [instead] the violent breaking of the lifeline. If the [suicide] could only realize the resulting intensification of difficulty which must enter the life to come, [suicide] would never be [attempted].”

That Fisher’s death was caused by a group of malevolent discarnate entities – who perhaps influenced his mind – might sound far-fetched and sensational. It is, however, a possibility that cannot be ignored as anyone who’s read Hungry Ghosts would probably agree. Unable to accept that an optimistic, spiritually-minded man like Fisher would want to take his own life, Wilson writes: “I find myself speculating whether his suicide had anything to do with a weird experience he had in the 1980s.”

That “weird experience” began in 1984, when Fisher met an Australian-Canadian medium named Aviva Nuemann, who suffered from chronic leukemia. Aviva had contacted Fisher, suggesting he attend a channeling session at her house because, she said, she did not feel entirely comfortable being a “mouthpiece” for discarnate entities and was hoping that he, an expert on metaphysics, might be able to shed some light on the matter. When they first met, Aviva, a laboratory technologist, stressed the point that she had “never believed in the so-called psychic world. I think astrology is absolute crap, and I’ve got no time for anything that’s supposed to be paranormal…” She then told him the remarkable story of how she became a channeler for “the guides.”

It all started, she said, when she agreed to allow her friend, Roger Belancourt, to try and heal her under hypnosis. His aim was to administer positive medical suggestions to her subconscious mind, such as “Your bone-marrow will start immediately to manufacture the extra red blood cells needed by your body.” These hypnotic sessions took an experimental turn when Roger began probing Aviva’s mind for past-life memories. In an emotionless voice in the third-person, Aviva described having been a peasant woman named Svetlana who lived through the Russian revolution, as well as a Punjabi infant who died of malnutrition before his first birthday. Other “past life memories” were described as well.

Probing deeper still, Roger managed to contact another part of Aviva’s mind, even more knowledgeable than her subconscious. It referred to itself as the “alter-consciousness.” Roger discovered that every organ of Aviva’s body, and every aspect of her personality, appeared to possess its own alter-consciousness, each with its own voice. He used the “voices” to monitor Aviva’s health. By communicating with the blood’s alter-consciousness, for instance, Roger was able to tell whether Aviva’s red blood cell count had increased or decreased. This higher aspect of Aviva’s mind – what one might term her “superconsciousness” – proved to be very knowledgeable about spiritual matters. The aim of reincarnation is “forward development,” it said, which is “understanding of oneself.”

When brought back to full consciousness, Aviva had no memory of what had transpired while in trance. It was as though she had been deeply asleep. “Coming back isn’t much fun,” she told Fisher. “It’s as if I’m being dragged very swiftly up a mineshaft…it’s like hearing an alarm go off when I’m dead to the world.” Seeing as her alter-consciousness seemed to know just about everything, Roger decided to ask it if “spirit guides” actually existed for he had long suspected that he was watched over by a deceased Tibetan Lama named Jai-Lin. Roger found to his delight that he could communicate with Jai-Lin via Aviva’s alter-consciousness, which in Fisher’s words “acted as intermediary, relaying messages from the next world.” His “guide” told Roger that he “must always think positive thoughts,” and that “you have much to learn in self-discipline.”

Annoyed by the fact that Roger was unable to control his negative emotions, Jai-Lin told Roger that he must move on to meet fresh challenges elsewhere. Jai-Lin was eventually replaced by another “guide,” an affectionate entity named Hanni, who claimed to have been Roger’s mother in a previous life in the Netherlands. Every incarnate individual was administered a spirit guide, Roger was told. But this did not necessarily mean that one had the same guide throughout the whole course of one’s life – or, for that matter, several life times. Sometimes a guide would leave their “charge” – the incarnate person whom they were required to “watch over” – and another guide would fill their place.

Having mastered the ability to manipulate Aviva’s vocal cords – a process that was said to take some time – Hanni was able to speak through the entranced Aviva. Fisher describes Hanni’s voice as “soft and tenderly” and totally dissimilar to Aviva’s. While channeling her own guide – a Yorkshire farmer named Russel who claimed to have last lived on Earth during the 19th century – the voice that issued from Aviva’s mouth was also unlike her own, so much so that it left Fisher stunned. “Gone was the high-pitched jocularity with the pronounced Australian lilt. Her enunciation was now unequivocally masculine; the English accent was unmistakable.”

Speaking to Russel, Fisher was not only surprised by Aviva’s change in voice but by her change in personality, too. “This was an entirely different Aviva,” he says, “strangely assertive and uncompromising.” Fisher felt as though he were talking to a separate being and not a fragment of Aviva’s unconscious mind. Russel told Fisher that humanity was divided into two groups: souls and entities. Souls were said to be “created from desire,” while entities were “born of knowledge.” Neither group was superior, said Russel. Although he found the concept difficult to accept, Fisher was glad to be hailed as an entity – clearly the more appealing of the two groups. Entities were classified as individuals, while souls were said to have more of a group mentality.

Fisher’s guide turned out to be a young Greek woman named Filipa Gavrilos. Three centuries earlier, said Russel, she and Fisher had been lovers in a little Greek village called Theros. Apparently they had been together over many lifetimes. The news blew Fisher away as he had always been strongly drawn to Greece, and, as a child, the name Phillipa had appealed to him. Russell described Filipa as an “excitable young lady.” Eventually, he said, she would be able to speak through Aviva. In the meantime, Fisher tried to develop mind-to-mind contact with Filipa, something she had encouraged him to do. Each day, Fisher would close his eyes and will Filipa to communicate with him, a regimen he followed religiously for the next three years.

It didn’t take long before a small group of New Age enthusiasts had gathered around Aviva, all of them eager to communicate with their guides. Regular sessions were held every week. No guide was available for those who were classified as souls, because the souls of guides, it was said, occupied a separate and inaccessible plane to that of entities. In late 1984, Filipa spoke through Aviva for the very first time. Fisher describes her voice as “subdued, pensive and poignantly tender.”

Initially, admits Fisher, he was rather unimpressed with Filipa and had “serious doubts about her intelligence…Her initial responses were almost juvenile, prompting me to remark to Roger and Aviva that I had attracted a ‘disco queen’ for a guide.” As the sessions continued, however, Filipa quickly became “an advisor, a best friend. And my ideal lover.” He adds: “Filipa and I seemed to think alike, feel alike and see the world from a near-identical perspective.”

What complicated the situation is that Fisher had a girlfriend, named Rachel, who also attended the meetings, though very infrequently. Her guide, William, spoke with a thick Scottish accent and claimed to have last lived in Edinburgh during the 17th century. They had strong karmic ties, he said, having shared more than twenty lifetimes together. Fond of William though she was, Rachel couldn’t help but feel slightly repulsed by him and the other guides. “For all their signs and wonders, the guides gave her the creeps,” writes Fisher. While in their presence, she sometimes felt “a certain intangible negativity in the air…” She eventually dropped out of the group, and, in time, she and Fisher drifted apart. He had, after all, found a more suitable partner in Filipa – non-physical though she was – who “knew and understood me more precisely than anyone…”

The guides said they could read the minds of their charges, which seemed to be true. They knew certain things about their charges that only their charges knew. They could, for instance, describe what their charge had been doing or thinking on a particular day and at a particular time – information that could only have been gained psychically.

Every so often, said the guides, it was necessary for them to intervene directly in the lives of their charges. One time Aviva had driven through a snowstorm to collect her six-year-old son from school, despite the fact that Russell had warned her not to, claiming it was too dangerous. She arrived safely at the school. But for some strange reason her car wouldn’t start on the way home. Several drivers gave her a boost, and still the engine wouldn’t respond. “But,” she told Fisher, “as soon as the snowstorm abated, the engine started perfectly, as if nothing had happened.” Questioned about the incident later on, Russell claimed responsibility for the temporary engine failure. Had he not intervened, he said, Aviva would have had a potentially fatal accident on the way home.

Fisher’s daily attempts to communicate with Filipa on a mind-to-mind basis began to yield some interesting results. Whenever contact had been successfully established, “a loud buzzing would reverberate in my ears, a sound that could be likened to an internal droning of cicadas.” (One is reminded of Mary’s “critter” experiences.) During these meditative sessions, images would sometimes appear in his mind. One time he saw the image of woman walking towards him. She was wearing sandals and a long white wrap, her face partially hidden by a garment. He knew the woman was Filipa. “Within seconds, my body was racked with the most profound and unrestrained emotion. I wept out of joy and sadness and loss and anguish, yet to this day I don’t really know why.”

Mind-to-mind contact could best be achieved when Fisher was in a particularly relaxed mood, with very few thoughts running through his head. Sometimes he’d imagine himself hugging Filipa, and this she appreciated greatly. Fisher could tell that she longed for a physical body. “I wish that I could stand there and wipe your face and hold your hand,” she told him on one occasion. Filipa and the other guides disliked nothing more than to be referred to as “spirits” and to be reminded of the fact that they no longer occupied physical bodies. To call one of the guides a spirit was to annoy them, even make them angry. “We’re not spirits!” Russell once shouted. “We’re people just like you. It’s just that we don’t have bodies anymore.” Fisher found it a little dubious that the guides were so attached to the “physical plane,” even though they stressed that they were no more “spiritually evolved” than their charges.

Occasionally, said Fisher, conversations with Filipa “would erupt in my head.” Once, while running up a steep hill, Fisher heard “a voice or implanted thought-form.” So as to make the climb much easier, the “voice” told him to imagine that his feet were not touching the ground. The technique had a positive effect. When next at Aviva’s house, Fisher asked Filipa if she had spoken to him while he was out running. She answered yes, and was able to relate exactly what she had told him. “Somehow,” explains Fisher, “Filipa had to be either living inside me or hovering perpetually close by, picking up via some otherworldly antenna my organism’s every twitch and shudder.”

In a sense, alludes Fisher, he was able to interact physically with Filipa and even have sexual intercourse with her. During a private conversation with Fisher, Wilson asked him if he “meant they [he and Filipa] became lovers in the physical sense, and he said yes, he did. I felt it would tactless to ask exactly how they went about it.”

The guides appeared to have access to an almost unlimited amount of information. They even claimed to know “the nature of God.” However, they said, the amount of time required to explain it would take some three hundred sessions; for this reason, the project was never attempted. Fisher admits to being impressed by the teachings and advice offered by the guides. They were taught, among other things, about the history of Atlantis and Lemuria; about the workings of the mind; about reincarnation, karma, and spiritual development. And so on and so forth. “So rich and so abundant were the insights and observations that there were times when I felt overwhelmed by the veritable geyser of information,” he says. Communicating with the guides was an addictive and thrilling experience.

But as time went on, Fisher grew slightly suspicious of the guides. When, during one session, Filipa said she was aware of every thought he ever had about her, “the remark left me weak with ardent appreciation. Every time I thought of her, she knew. How attentive, I asked myself, can you get?” The guides gave long lectures about the importance of peace and love, but in many ways their teachings rang empty and possessed little substance. Also worrying was that they intervened, both physically and emotionally, in the lives of their charges, while at the same time stressing the importance of free will. Such a massive contradiction was impossible to explain.

In his book The Paranormal, British psychologist Stan Gooch – whose research is detailed in the next chapter – describes the teachings of “spirit guides” as “a kind of intellectual candy-floss…when you chew on these utterances, there is nothing there. The mouth is empty.” The late D. Scott Rogo, a prolific writer and researcher of parapsychological phenomena, was of much the same opinion as Gooch. “I find that most channeled discourses possess the spiritual and philosophical sophistication of a Dick-and-Jane book,” he explains in The Infinite Boundary. He once tried reading the Seth books, he says, “but I eventually found raking up the leaves from my mulberry tree more interesting and spiritually enhancing.”

At times the guides made statements that were just plain ridiculous, one of them being that Jesus Christ was no more “spiritually evolved” than any member of the group. Russell even stated that Jesus has “been back to the earth-bound many, many times.” According to him, the only reason that Jesus managed to achieve what he did is because he spoke the truth, and because he lived during desperate times when people needed someone to follow. As for Guatama Buddha, he hadn’t, to the best of Russell’s knowledge, reincarnated since.

“The more I loved Filipa,” writes Fisher, “the more I hungered for tangible proof of her existence.” For this reason, coupled with the fact that he wished to write a book about discarnate beings and life in the “next dimension,” Fisher set about trying to prove the identities of the guides. He wanted to know if they had lived the lives they said they had. Fisher knew enough about spirits to realize that they were rarely who they claimed to be. He had, in fact, been warned about this by Russell, who, during one of their first conversations, stated clearly that mischievous spirits sometimes like to pose as wise and knowledgeable spirit guides.

The guides were more than happy with Fisher’s desire to prove their identities and were eager to offer him specific details about their lives on earth. First of all, decided Fisher, he would try to follow up on the information given by ex-RAF bomber pilot William Alfred Scott, the guide of a man named Tony. Scott said he had been born in Bristol in 1917, had started his RAF career in 99 Squadron at Mildenhall, Suffolk, and, ironically, had not been killed in the air but in a German bombing raid on Coventry in 1944. Scott knew everything about the squadron, its operations, and his fellow officers. But Fisher discovered, after a visit to the Public Record Office at Kew, that there had been no Flying Officer William Scott in the Squadron.

One surviving member of the Squadron, Norman Didwell, who listened to a recording of Scott’s voice, confirmed that the man had never existed but said that his voice sounded “very, very familiar.” In addition, the alleged place of Scott’s death – a street called Sandrich – was found not to exist. Numerous other details were found to be bogus too. Before leaving England, the country of his birth, Fisher paid a visit to his mother, a devout Christian. “You’re talking to demons,” she told him. “And I don’t like the sound of it one bit.”

When back in Canada and in a bitter mood Fisher confronted Scott as to why he had lied, the once calm and polite entity became peevish and irritable. “I do not wish for my privacy to be violated,” he said. “I have given you all the information you need and, as such, it will stand.” Worming his way out of the situation, Scott claimed that he was unable to stick around for very much longer because he had made plans to reincarnate soon. A suitable “bodily vehicle” had been located in Southern England, he said. After saying farewell, Scott allegedly departed for the “physical plane.” Much later on, Russell provided details of Scott’s “new incarnation” – his name, DOB, place of birth, and the names of his parents. Surprisingly, the information checked out, and Fisher managed to obtain a birth certificate for the infant. Fisher contacted the parents, who, although intrigued by the matter, were unwilling to get involved. He respected their decision.

Attempts to verify Russell’s last incarnation on Earth also met with failure and disillusionment. The same was true of a guide named William Harry Maddox, who claimed to have fought and died during World War I. The war records proved that Maddox had never existed. Fisher’s research, by the way, was absolutely impeccable, as can be expected from a former investigative journalist with many years experience. He searched every nook and cranny for evidence of the guides’ lives. Why it is that some of the information they provided was true, while the crucial facts from their stories were missing, did not make the least bit of sense. If the guides had wanted to be believed, thought Fisher, wouldn’t they have claimed to be people who had actually existed? Were they, perhaps, drawing on the knowledge and memories of other people – either living or dead – to create their identities?

As for his beloved Filipa, she too was found to be a liar and deceiver – or, in Fisher’s words, “a master of deception.” During his travels through Greece, Fisher was unable to find the ruins of Theros, let alone any evidence that the village had actually existed. And not only that, the city of Alexandroupolis, which Filipa had mentioned visiting during the 18th century, had not even existed at that point in history. In fact, Fisher discovered, the city had been named after a 20th century monarch! “I felt like crying for the group of believers in Toronto, for the guides themselves, whoever they were, for the elaborate deception in which I had become entangled, and for all the all-enveloping, myopic struggle of incarnate life,” he writes.

During the remainder of his stay in Greece, while lying in bed late at night and brooding on Filipa’s betrayal, “her buzzing returned to plague me. Once so comforting and reassuring, the noise in my ears took on a shrill and sinister aspect, leaving me sleepless.” At that point, says Fisher, he began to grow afraid of Russell, Filipa, and the other guides. “If they knew us all so intimately – as they had demonstrated on countless occasions – who could say what power they wielded over our lives?”

In Hungry Ghosts, Fisher describes having confronted Russell several times about his lying and manipulative ways, as well of those of “his cronies,” and how, because of their remarkable intelligence and their vast understanding of human psychology, such efforts were totally futile. During one “interrogation,” the group’s “transcriber,” whom Fisher describes as a “slavish apologist,” leapt to Russell’s defense again and again. She was unable to accept the possibility that the guides were even capable of lying. The information needed to prove their identities must be out there somewhere, she insisted.

After the guides had been unmasked, only one or two members left the group. Overall, their faith in the guides had hardly been shaken. Fisher describes Russell – clearly the leader of the guides – as “devious, manipulative and potentially dangerous” and “as slippery as the proverbial eel and a master psychologist to boot.” Fisher was unable to talk to Filipa because, said Russell, “You’ve quite completely shut her out.” They never spoke again. In an article on the Joe Fisher story, the philosopher and paranormal investigator Jonathan Zap suggests that the guides may have actually been “a single shape-shifting entity who, like the devil, ‘hath power to assume a pleasing shape’ and was capable of performing a whole cast of characters of both genders.”

An-ex member of the group, Sandford Ellison, told Fisher how the guides had almost ruined his life. During private sessions with the guides, particularly with Russell, Ellison was told that if he didn’t leave his wife – a soul, not an entity – he would die. They even said that she was trying to kill him “by projecting powerful negative energies” his way. While working with the guides who were teaching him to channel “healing energies,” Ellison suffered from “fierce emotional fluctuations and bouts of muddled thinking.” When no longer in their presence, he felt much better. During his final conversation with Russell, when he explained that he wanted nothing further to do with the guides, Ellison was told “that I would commit suicide in a fit of depression” (my emphasis). Before splitting with the guides, Fisher, like Ellison, had felt poorly. “I was more jittery than usual,” he says, “more susceptible to insomnia and nervous tension…I could not shrug off a cloying sense of contamination which could neither be pinpointed nor explained.”

Having spent years listening to, and talking intimately with, the entities channeled through Aviva, and having spoken with a number of other channeled entities, Fisher was forced to accept, somewhat ruefully, that these ostensibly wise and benevolent beings – “who have wormed their way into that juicy apple of spiritual regeneration known as The New Age” – were nothing more than “lower astral entities” or “hungry ghosts.” Ellison also concluded that the “guides” were “lower astral entities,” adding that they “play on human frailty and feed on our energy and our emotions.”

While investigating the channeling phenomenon (which attracted far more attention during the 1980s than it does now), Fisher befriended a woman named Claire Leforgia, a former nursing assistant who apparently channeled her own spiritual teacher – or guide – an English surgeon from the 19th century named Dr. Samuel Pinkerton. Called “wise” and “adorable” by those in the Toronto New Age community, Pinkerton sometimes “spoke so sweetly that it was hard to tell whether his politeness was genuinely considerate or gloatingly sarcastic,” says Fisher. Fisher eventually concluded that the charming Dr. Pinkerton was yet another hungry ghost posing as a benevolent guru. Attempts to verify his identity were met with failure; Dr. Pinkerton was not who he claimed to be.

When Fisher mentioned to his friend Alexander Blair-Ewart, editor of the Canadian New Age periodical Dimensions, that Dr. Pinkerton enjoyed smoking cigars and drinking alcohol through Laforgia – whom he sometimes referred to as his “instrument” – he was told: “Spirits like Pinkerton get a rush by swooping into a body and satisfying themselves with the sensations of physical life – sensations such as drinking alcohol, for example. This is contrary to the teachings of all the great spiritual masters. This is forbidden. This is possession, not true spirituality” (my emphasis).

In the 2001 edition of Hungry Ghosts, which contains an epilogue not available in the original edition, Fisher relates a chilling story that might help explain the cause of his suicide. Early in 1988, he says, while living in a small house near Lake Ontario and planning to write Hungry Ghosts, he developed a strange abscess on his navel. Each doctor he visited “was equally mystified by the inflammation.” Taking antibiotics did nothing to cure the infection, which got progressively worse and tremendously painful. The third doctor he saw, a wilderness specialist – “a man who had seen everything” – told Fisher “I’ve never seen anything like it.” After treating the infection, he assured Fisher that it would heal in time.

Weeks later, alone, and during the middle of winter, Fisher realized that the infection was only getting worse, and that he needed to take emergency action. He was in so much agony that he had to swallow a strong painkiller every half-an-hour. “Perhaps, I mused, I was under some kind of psychic attack [my emphasis]. Were the various entities, who had ultimately failed to win me over, trying to ensure I would not reveal who they are and what they do?”

Sometime after midnight Fisher climbed into his car and drove twenty minutes to the nearest hospital, hunched over the steering wheel in pain. He was escorted to the emergency ward and given an injection of Dermatol. An ultrasound revealed that he had omphalitis, a condition in which the umbilical cord becomes infected. Rare in adults, omphalitis usually affects newborns and is most likely to occur to those with abraded, ulcerated, or unclean navels. None of these stipulations applied to Fisher, thus it was a complete mystery as to how the abscess had formed. Due to the severity of his condition, Fisher was operated upon within hours of having checked in. After all, he was told, it can sometimes happen that the accumulated pus explodes internally, leading to peritonitis and even death. Fortunately, the operation was successful.

In what sounds like something out of the paranormal thriller The Mothman Prophecies, Fisher received, about an hour after the operation, a mysterious telephone call from Laforgia, who inquired as to his condition. When he asked Laforgia how she had known he was in hospital – for no one had been notified of his admission – she said that Dr. Pinkerton had informed her. That Dr. Pinkerton had attacked him psychically, giving him omphalitis, is a possibility that Fisher was unable to ignore. He writes: “The site of the abscess was symbolic indeed; the navel, the very core of my being.” Following his recovery and while working on Hungry Ghosts, Fisher was in a state of almost constant paranoia – and perhaps understandably so: “Even if my onetime friends ultimately found a way to take my life, I told myself, the book must be finished.”

In his aforementioned article on “spirit possession,” Wilson asks the question: “Was his suicide an attempt to rejoin Filipa?” To support this theory, Wilson explains how Fisher’s involvement with Filipa had “spoiled him for a normal sex life,” as revealed in the following quote, taken from Hungry Ghosts: “My terrestrial love life was doomed. No woman of flesh and blood could hope to emulate Filipa’s love and concern. No incarnate female could ever begin to understand me in the fashion to which I had become accustomed. In a sense, I was lost to the world, living in a limbo land…”

Wilson offers another compelling theory: “I talked about the mystery of Joe’s suicide to Suzanna McInerny, who is the president of the College of Psychic Studies in South Kensington. Suzanna confirmed that long-term involvement with ‘hungry ghosts’ can cause difficult inner problems. A kind of dirt sticks to the medium’s ‘aura’ (or vital energies), which has to be cleaned off by another medium, like a window cleaner polishing off grime. This dirt can cause depression and a sense of unreality. And sometimes, Suzanna said, a ‘hungry ghost’ can even hang around inside somebody, quite unsuspected, and can only be evicted by a medium who understands such matters. She agreed with me that this could well be the explanation of Joe’s suicide.”

Fisher was of the opinion “that no highly-evolved, spiritual being would ever speak through a medium.” He quotes the late Tibetan Buddhist lama Namgyal Rinpoche, founder of the Dharma Centre of Canada, who makes the same point: “As a general spiritual law, no enlightened being would speak through an ordinary human. 

(...)

Channeled entities are not just anyone; they’re more “spiritually evolved” than Great Uncle Joe on “the other side” – or at least they profess to be. They include entities like Seth, who spoke through the late Jane Roberts and described himself as an “energy personality essence no longer focused in physical reality.” Seth first made his presence known in the early 1960s, when Roberts and her husband began experimenting with an Ouija board – a device known to attract only the lowest class of discarnate entities. Were it not for the publication of Seth’s voluminous, intellectual “teachings,” channeling would never have gained the popularity that it did – and still enjoys, to some extent.

Before receiving him in light trance then full trance, Roberts could hear Seth’s voice in her head. Like so many other mediums, Roberts died at a young age, at 55, in fact, after a long battle with what appeared to be an autoimmune disease. If Seth was indeed a highly evolved being, one can’t help but wonder why he felt the need to invade the body of a human being through whom he enjoyed various physical pleasures, such as drinking the odd glass of wine or beer. He even admitted to enjoying the material realm through Roberts’s senses.

Prior to coming in contact with Seth, Roberts had a mystical experience of sorts – an experience that opened her up to the channeling phenomenon. It was, she recalls, “as if someone had slipped me an LSD cube on the sly…A fantastic avalanche of radical, new ideas burst into my head with tremendous force, as if my skull were some sort of receiving station, turned up to unbearable volume.” The experience Roberts described sounds a little unpleasant, but nowhere near as unpleasant as Australian channeler Shirley Bray’s description of how she was first contacted by a group of entities calling themselves “the Nine”: “I felt as if thin wires, like acupuncture needles, were being inserted into the base of my skull. It was uncomfortable so I stirred, moving my head from side to side. A voice firmly but gently said, ‘Be still, it will not be long.’”

By far the most popular and controversial channeler at work today is the American J.Z. Knight, whose “gift” has earned her many millions of dollars. In 1977, says Knight, while in the company of her husband, she placed a paper pyramid on her head, and “we both started laughing until we cried.” The next thing she knew, a “very large entity” was standing before her. “He looked at me with a beautiful smile and said, ‘I am Ramtha, the Enlightened One. I have come to help you over the ditch.’”

At Ramtha’s School of Enlightenment (RSE), which has attracted some 5,000 students (known as “masters”) worldwide and is based in the town of Yelm, Washington, one can learn, according to their mission statement, “the tools and knowledge to tap into the powers of the mind and explore our human potential.” One can master remote viewing in just four days, promises RSE, and thus be able to “see the past, present and future of anything at any distance at any time.” A weeklong RSE retreat costs about US $1,000. It’s estimated, moreover, that Knight’s company, JZK Inc., earns a whopping US $10 million per year, perhaps even more.

The less than humble Ramtha describes himself as a 35,000-year-old Lemurian Warrior, who, all those years ago, conquered three-quarters of the world, realized the error of his ways, and quickly gained enlightenment. Ramtha makes no qualms about calling himself a god. We, too, are gods, he says – or, more accurately, “sleeping gods” who have forgotten their true potential. Once we begin to love ourselves, and once we come to realize that we create our own reality, we can achieve anything, says Ramtha. Like many a channeled entity of questionable integrity, Ramtha likes to make dire predictions concerning natural disasters and has even directed RSE students and staff to build underground bunkers stockpiled with emergency supplies. He predicted, in 2000, that 56 square miles of South Sound, Washington, would eventually flood. Ramtha has also predicted earthquakes as well as infections from tainted water supplies.

According to various ex-members of RSE, such as outspoken Yelm-resident David McCarthy who belonged to the organization from 1989 to 1996, Knight is nothing but a cult-leader and a “spiritual predator.” The organization, he says, has a small inner circle, to whom its most esoteric Ramtha teachings and pronouncements are revealed – one of them being that the ancient figure Jehovah will return to earth in a spaceship, accompanied by an entourage of flesh-eating “lizard people.” Says McCarthy: “A lot of people deny that these things happened. They say these are sacred teachings and that you (outsiders) wouldn’t understand.”

As was the case with Seth, Ramtha is attached to earthly pleasures and enjoys the occasional glass of alcohol, so much so that he even leads “wine ceremonies.” “Many people now speculate that whatever energy came through J.Z. Knight has either shifted, departed, or been replaced by a less benign entity,” writes journalist Craig Lee in an article that appeared in the Los Angeles Weekly in November 1986.

Were Rivail alive today, it’s fair to say that he would probably be highly suspicious of most, if not all, of the entities who speak through channelers, for as we are warned in The Mediums’ Book: “Repel all spirits who counsel exclusiveness, division, isolation. Such spirits are always vain and shallow; they impose on the weak and credulous by exaggerated praises, in order to fascinate and to domineer over them. As a general rule, distrust all communications of a mystic or fantastic character, as well as those which prescribe ceremonies or eccentric actions.”

The Tibetan Buddhists, believe it or not, have mediums of their own. The Tibetan word for medium is kuten, which means “the physical basis,” and it is through such people that oracles are consulted. Although the practice is rare these days, there used to exist hundreds of oracles in Tibet, probably more. Today there are very few oracles in existence – or, perhaps more accurately, there are very few trained mediums through whom these beings are able to communicate. China’s takeover and assimilation of Tibet probably had something to do with this. And, considering that many of these deities were used to assist governmental decision-making and provide intelligence on matters of state, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Chinese communist government outlawed the consultation of oracles many years ago.

However, the Tibetan government (that is, the Tibetan government in exile) still consults its oracles from time to time, the principal one being the Nechung Oracle, the main protector divinity of the Tibetan Government and the Dalai Lama. Anyone who’s seen the Martin Scorsese film Kundun, about the early life of the fourteen Dalai Lama, would remember a rather disturbing scene in which the oracle is summoned and various political questions are put to it, some of them relating to the Dalai Lama’s safety. In his autobiography, Freedom in Exile, the Dalai Lama confesses that he has dealings with Nechung “several times a year,” and that “some Tibetans…have misgivings about my continued use of this ancient method of intelligence gathering.” The Dalai Lama describes Nechung as a “wrathful” deity, a “protector and defender.” They are, he says, “very close, friends almost.” Even so, their relationship is such that “I never bow down to him. It is for Nechung to bow to the Dalai Lama.”

In Freedom in Exile, the Dalai Lama writes: “Nechung has always shown respect for me…he invariably responds enthusiastically whenever asked anything about me. At the same time, his replies to questions about government policy can be crushing. Sometimes he just responds with a burst of sarcastic laughter. I well remember a particular incident that occurred when I was about fourteen. Nechung was asked a question about China. Rather than answer it directly, the Kuten turned towards the East and began bending forward violently. It was frightening to watch, knowing that this movement combined with the weight of the massive helmet he wore on his head would be enough to snap his neck. He did it at least fifteen times, leaving no one in any doubt about where the danger lay.”

When he begins to channel Nechung, the transformation that comes over the medium is a very dramatic thing to watch. The medium’s face changes completely, says the Dalai Lama, “becoming rather wild before puffing up to give him an altogether strange appearance, with bulging eyes and swollen cheeks. His breathing begins to shorten and he starts to hiss violently.” At the beginning of the ritual, a heavy helmet, weighting approximately thirty pounds (13.6 kg), is tied to the medium’s head. In former times, this helmet weighed over eighty pounds (> 36 kg). As to why the helmet was reduced in weight, the Dalai Lama does not say, leading one to speculate that maybe there were more than a few cases of fractured necks.

While channeling Nechung, the medium behaves as though his body were occupied by the devil himself. The process is violent and crass. There can be little doubt that Nechung has no respect for the medium, let alone the medium’s body. Trance mediumship, as a general rule, is most exhausting for the medium and in some cases may even be detrimental to their health. This is certainly true when it comes to Tibetan Buddhist mediumship – more so, in fact, than the type of mediumship witnessed in the West, for it is said that kutens live very short lives. According to the Dalai Lama, this can be explained by the fact that “the volcanic energy of the deity can barely be contained within the earthly frailty of the kuten.” Assuming this is true, the process could be likened to what happens when the fictional character Dr. Robert Bruce Banner becomes angry and suddenly transforms into the Hulk, his clothes tearing at the seams.

Perhaps the Nechung oracle is nothing more than another deceptive lower astral entity. This is an intriguing thought, and one that very few Tibetan Buddhists would be willing to entertain. That the Dalai Lama, said to be an emanation of Chenrezig, the Buddha of compassion, has been fooled by a “demon” is enough to make one laugh with incredulity. It is, however, a very real possibility, as Fisher’s story clearly illustrates.

Thanks to what we know so far about the SP phenomenon, and the ways in which spirits are able to influence the minds of humans, a couple of details of Fisher’s story stand out as being of great significance. Firstly, that Fisher achieved partial mind-to-mind contact with Filipa and was able to communicate with her telepathically (though obviously to a limited extent). And secondly, that he was able to have sexual intercourse with her – which, I’m sure, would have occurred on an astral level and which would have been similar in nature to the “succubi” experiences of SP sufferers and others.

Fisher was clearly a victim of spirit possession and to a fairly advanced extent. Being a gentleman, he refused to say much about his sexual encounters with Filipa, which is a shame, I think, because this may have been – probably was, in fact – one of the most important aspects of his relationship with her. Ridiculous though it sounds, they most likely enjoyed a good “astral sex life” and remained closely bonded as a result. Fished stated, remember, that his involvement with Filipa had ruined him for a normal sex life, as pointed out by Wilson.

Perhaps the last word should go to Zap, who warns: “We need to consider the subtle ways that discarnates may influence our thoughts, emotions, sexuality and behavior. Joe Fisher’s apparent suicide adds an ominous implication that these entities are not to be underestimated…”

DARK INTRUSIONS

An Investigation into the Paranormal Nature of Sleep Paralysis Experiences

By Louis Proud

We will not rest until William Shakespeare’s works are banned and banned forever ...

 NONE DARE CALL IT NIHILISM 

Luther Blissett

Neoist aesthetics are characterised by the practice of plagiarism and the use of collective pseudonyms. Plagiarism is a means of attacking private property, while the adoption of the name Luther Blissett by all members of the Neoist Network, is central to the movement's death struggle with capitalism.

Backtracking for a moment to the late sixteenth century, we find that playwrights such as Shakespeare and Marlowe often plagiarised plots and ideas from earlier writers. In this plagiaristic aspect of Elizabethan drama, we can discern a highly advanced form of proto-modernism.

Plagiarism was also particularly well-used by Lautreamont/Ducasse (1846-70). Similarly, the work of William S. Burroughs is heavily dependent on plagiarism in terms of both content and style. This is particularly noticeable in relation to the texts of Tzara and Artaud.

The great advantage of plagiarism as a literary method is that it removes the need for talent, or even much application. All you really have to do is select what to plagiarise. Enthusiastic beginners might like to start by plagiarising this essay. A hard-core nihilist might choose to plagiarise it verbatim; while those individuals who labour under the delusion that they are of a more artistic bent, will probably want to change a word here and there — or even place the paragraphs in a different order!

It should not be forgotten that plagiarism is a highly creative exercise and that with every act of plagiarism a new meaning is brought to the plagiarised work. Unfortunately, this does not alter the fact that the capitalistic forces controlling Western culture have proscribed as illegal the plagiarising of modern texts. However, do not allow this to deter you from plagiarising modern work. A few sensible precautions will protect you from prosecution. The basic rule in avoiding copyright infringement is to take the idea and spirit of a text without actually plagiarising it word for word. One of the best examples of this is Orwell’s 1984 — which is a straight rewrite of Zamyatin’s We. Anyone with a serious interest in neo-plagiarism should spend some time comparing these two texts.

In the area of popular music, a good example of neo-plagiarism is the way in which the chord sequence was lifted from Louie Louie and married to the words of Wild Thing. This is plagiarism at its best, with no redeeming factors such as a clever change of context.

In short, plagiarism saves time and effort, improves results and shows considerable initiative on the part of the individual plagiarist. As a revolutionary tool, it is ideally suited to the demands of the late twentieth-century.

Compiled in the late eighties from texts in three year old issues of Smile magazine.

**

BAN MACBETH 

Campaign to Abolish the Complete Works of William Shakespeare.

We call upon the government to take immediate action to ban this evil play and all other works by the depraved author William Shakespeare. It is our desire to see these foul abominations publicly burned as a warning to others. The public will no longer tolerate the vomit that is thrust down our throats that some call culture, art & literature.

It has been revealed that MacBeth, the sadistic work of sixteenth century playwright William Shakespeare, was the favourite book of Stephen Wilkinson, the fucked-up-schizo-psycho-killer who viciously stabbed to death a defenceless 12 year old schoolgirl last March. Schizo-Wilkinson carried a copy of MacBeth with him everywhere and tragically so on that fatal day last March when he marched into Halgarth Comprehensive School in Middlesborough carrying in his holdall three knives, a hatchet, a Colt 45 replica revolver and a copy of MacBeth. It has also been revealed that Wilkinson had pinned a quotation by Jonathan Swift to his bedroom wall, describing humanity as the ‘pernicious race-odious little vermin’. From this evidence we believe that it is not far-fetched to draw the conclusion that Wilkinson’s reading of these black mass-terpieces of the occult led directly to the brutal murder of the innocent young schoolgirl.

This is evidence enough in our eyes that MacBeth and other works by William Shakespeare reported to contain many depraved acts of sex and violence, be removed from the national curriculum forthwith and that the poisoning of our children’s young minds ceases immediately. 

Who knows what other works by Shakespeare (that freak of nature some call a writer) psychos like Wilkinson could have read and what disgusting filth is pillaging our children’s innocent young minds. The works of these shameless authors litter our bookshops, which in some cases are no more than brothels. How can we defend publication and distribution of this noxious material? Those responsible should be prosecuted and punished. We will not rest until William Shakespeare’s works are banned and banned forever, then and only then will we sleep safely in our beds. We await the government’s response.

First issued as a leaflet by Shakespeare Is a Sicko, Campaign to Abolish the Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Glasgow 1996.

Mind Invaders, edited by Stewart Home

Dark Intrusions

 Foreword

By Colin Wilson

Still in his twenties, Louis Proud has demonstrated with this book that he is one of the most acute commentators on the paranormal to appear in recent years. His starting point is the condition called sleep paralysis – shortened to SP – when someone wakes in the middle of the night and finds himself unable to move; a state that may last seconds or minutes.

When I mentioned it to my wife this morning, she said: “But surely that’s purely a physical condition?” The answer is that it may be, but often is not.

Many “psychics” experience it as a prelude to an OBE, an out of the body experience. For example, Robert Monroe, founder of the Monroe Institute in Virginia, began to have them it in the late 1960s, when he was conducting personal experiments in “sleep learning.” He began to experience what he called “vibrations” on the point of sleep. One day his hand, which was touching the floor, seemed to go through the carpet so he could feel the floor space below. And soon Monroe was having full-fledged OBEs. Obviously, the “vibrations” were a kind of disconnection from his senses, as if his “spirit” was separating from his physical body. Or – using a more down-to-earth analogy – a car had slipped out of gear and into ‘”neutral.”

Louis Proud began to have similar experiences when he was 17. He says it is as if there is a malevolent presence nearby, sometimes as if something is squatting on the chest to prevent the sleeper from moving. Hallucinations, both visual and auditory, may also be experienced. Like my friend Stan Gooch, author of Total Man, Louis Proud has even had sexual encounters when in the SP state.

That certainly sounds as far from “normal” experience as one can get. Yet it is important to emphasize that many such experiences have a basis in normality. What makes Louis Proud’s book so interesting is that he is obviously the kind of person who often has experiences that are beyond the normal. Yet his book is not a collection of weird oddities, but an exploration of the world that lies behind our eyes, yours as well as mine.

It seems clear to me that Louis Proud has been intrigued by his own paranormal experiences and is therefore more “open” to a remarkable range of them. So what he has done here is to gather together many strange experiences, like the Enfield poltergeist, Whitley Strieber’s “contact” experiences, Stan Gooch’s hypnogogic visions, Trevor Constable’s UFO-related discarnates, Joe Fisher’s mendacious and deceitful ghosts, Van Dusen’s auditory hallucinations, and Dion Fortune’s alarming contacts with an ill-disposed “witch,” to make a book that grips the reader from beginning to end.

It seems to me immensely sad that the world should be polarized into hard-line skeptics – like “The Amazing Randi” – and people like myself who are perfectly willing to consider the paranormal as a reasonable possibility. Which is why, as I read Louis Proud’s book, I began to feel a rising excitement, and the feeling: “This man is so obviously sincere that a reader would need to be pretty prejudiced to dismiss it all as self-delusion.”

It gives me immense pleasure to be allowed to introduce a writer who will, I suspect, become widely admired for his enviable brilliance and clarity.

Introduction

When I was seventeen years old something changed within my mind; a shift of awareness occurred, and I became receptive to the presence of invisible beings – and I still am. Call them spirits if you like. Whenever I hear, feel, see, and sense these beings, I am always in an altered state of consciousness. Never am I fully awake. I do not have, and have never had, any kind of mental illness, nor am I on medication for any reason whatsoever; nor do I take recreational drugs.

The condition I suffer from is called sleep paralysis (SP), and it’s not all that uncommon. About 25-to-40 percent of the population will undergo an SP episode at least once in the course of their life. The experience may be so minor, or may have occurred so many years ago, that it’s now entirely forgotten, or remains but a dim memory. For some of us, however, these experiences occur frequently and cannot be forgotten. They have had, and continue to have, a profound impact on our spirituality.

So what is SP, and how is it associated with things that go bump in the night?

Explained simply, SP is a condition whereby a person experiences temporary paralysis of the body shortly after waking up (known as hypnopompic paralysis), and, less commonly, shortly after falling asleep (known as hypnagogic paralysis). Although their minds are reasonably awake and alert, they find themselves unable to move their bodies – sometimes for as long as a few minutes, though usually just for a few seconds.

The condition is closely related to the normal paralysis that occurs during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep – called muscle atonia – in which the body is paralyzed to inhibit a person from enacting dream activity, such as running while dreaming about running; this prevents us from causing ourselves physical harm. Some scientists and physicians believe it’s a normal part of the sleep cycle. Generally, when SP occurs, the brain has awakened from an REM state, yet bodily paralysis is still taking place. In some instances, the sufferer may experience hypnopompic or hypnagogic hallucinations, which can be auditory, tactile, or visual in nature.

So there you have it – a neat and succinct explanation of SP. If you were to look up the subject in an encyclopedia or textbook, you would probably come across an explanation much like the one above. To this day, the phenomenon, particularly its spiritual side, remains little understood. Any “expert” in these matters will smugly tell you that there is nothing more to SP than some temporary abnormal brain activity; that the hallucinations of SP sufferers are simply a product of the imagination. By holding such a view, however, one is almost denying the very existence of the phenomenon. My use of the term “hallucination” is only for simplicity’s sake. I do not consider these experiences, for the most part, to be hallucinations.

During an SP attack, a person often feels that there is a malevolent presence nearby – sometimes perceived as a demon or evil spirit – and that this being is holding you down by resting on your chest, preventing you from moving or fully waking up. The sensation is very uncomfortable and quite stifling. It is not uncommon, moreover, for a person to feel that you are being violently attacked by this “entity.” Being choked, being bitten, or having your limbs twisted are just a few of the sensations that people report.

The reader may be familiar with a famous painting by the British artist Henry Fuseli (1741-1825), called The Nightmare (1781), which shows a young woman lying on her bed, asleep, with a large hairy demon sitting on her chest. Floating above the foot of her bed is the ghostly head of a rather goofy-looking horse. The painting almost certainly depicts an SP attack. Was Fuseli an SP victim, I wonder? I wouldn’t be surprised if he was, though I guess we’ll never know.

As far as auditory hallucinations are concerned, the types of sounds and voices that SP sufferers hear vary widely. Buzzing, grinding, whirring, whistling, and ringing sounds are commonly reported. These are sometimes accompanied by strange bodily sensations, such as a tingling or numbness. Also reported are sounds of a “technological” nature. Siren noises and telephone noises are two typical examples.

Then there are the voices, some of them indistinct and unintelligible, others clear and comprehensible. For some strange reason, the latter are usually simple commands. Psychologist J. Allan Cheyne of the University of Waterloo (UW) in Canada, who, within the last decade or so, has collected in excess of 28,000 tales of SP, runs a popular SP webpage, from which I have obtained, for this book, numerous quotes by SP sufferers. On this webpage, one woman reported the following experience: “As I listened I could sense this ‘thing’ walk or hover over my head – very close directly over my ear. It said ‘Freya!’…The voice continued: ‘I’ve got work for you to do!’ Then I listened as the presence hovered for a few seconds more and moved across the room to sit on my roommate’s bed.”

It’s interesting to note that the sounds and voices people hear during SP episodes are, for the most part, distinctly experienced as being external to the hearer, rather than thought-like and “in the head.” Generally, they are not taken to be self-generated. In comparison to auditory hallucinations experienced during SP episodes, visual hallucinations are reported far less frequently and are often less vivid. The images people see are predominately indefinite and insubstantial. Often people see “shadowy” beings floating around the room or standing near the bed. Most of the entities I see are dark, shadowy serpentine creatures, with long, thrashing tails. I also see grey orbs of various sizes, which look like balls of liquid smoke. I will explain more about this later.

These days, SP is used to explain – and often unfairly dismiss – a significant number of nocturnal paranormal experiences, from alien abduction episodes to out-of-body experiences (OBEs). The phenomenon has had a profound impact on religion and mythology throughout the ages, not just in the West, but all over the world. Some have speculated that in medieval Europe, the belief in incubi and succubi, as well as other demons, and possibly even witchcraft, may have resulted from the SP phenomenon.

Although these days we refer to a nightmare as a fearful or disturbing dream, the meaning of the word has changed, and since around 1300 the word has been used in connection with the SP phenomenon. In England during the Middle Ages, to have a “nightmare” was to have an SP experience – an experience attributed to the influences of a “mare,” a demonic being thought to attack people in the night, causing a sensation of pressure on the chest.

The mare – or mara – also exists in Scandinavian mythology and is described as a malignant female wraith. This immaterial being is believed to be capable of moving through a keyhole or the crack under a door. Once inside the victim’s bedroom, she seats herself on their chest, then “rides” them. The sleeping victim is said to experience “nightmares” as a result.

Today, defined as having a worn or gaunt appearance through illness, lack of sleep, etc., the term “haggard” also relates to SP, for it was once believed that witches or hags attacked men in the night by riding on their chests as they slept. In Chinese folklore, SP is believed to be a form of minor body possession caused by forces of the dead, though it is said not to harm the victim in any real way. The Chinese name for SP translates as “ghost pressing on body,” or “ghost pressing on bed.”

References to SP-type phenomena can be found all over the world, in Japan, Thailand, Mexico, Greece, Indonesia, the Philippines, Hawaii, Russia, and Hungary. The list goes on. In most of these countries, spirits and other supernatural beings are thought to be behind SP episodes. Having had hundreds of SP experiences over the years, I can easily understand why this is the case. To become a victim of SP is to realize that invisible, non-physical beings do exist.

Apparently, it wasn’t until the publication of David J. Hufford’s groundbreaking 1982 book The Terror That Comes in the Night that researchers began to realize that SP affects the general population and is not exclusively a symptom of narcolepsy. Narcolepsy, as defined by The American Heritage Dictionary, “is a disorder characterized by sudden and uncontrollable, though often brief, attacks of deep sleep, sometimes accompanied by paralysis and hallucinations.” It should be mentioned, too, that SP experiences differ from both night terrors and nocturnal panic attacks.

Some researchers make a distinction between the types of SP episodes experienced by the general population and those experienced by the narcoleptic population. In his book Wrestling with Ghosts, sleep researcher Jorge Conesa Sevilla sometimes uses the term Isolated Sleep Paralysis (ISP) to refer to the SP experiences of people “in otherwise normal populations without other symptoms, even when the SP experience is a once-in-a-life time event.”

To say that SP is a subject about which there is much confusion would be putting it mildly. The fact that it was previously thought to be something that only narcoleptics suffered from is proof of this. And although it’s beginning to gain acceptance as a fairly common condition, it remains little understood. So to help clarify matters, I need to stress the point that there are various forms of SP, such as SP accompanied by hypnagogic/hypnopompic hallucinations (sometimes called hypnagogic SP), and what one might term non-hypnagogic SP, or simply SP. If you were to undergo the latter type of episode, the only thing you would experience is bodily paralysis. There would be no hallucinations, and, most likely, the experience wouldn’t leave much of an impression.

Some people, such as myself, experience episodes on a fairly regular basis and are sometimes referred to as chronic SP suffers. Others have episodes very infrequently – say every five years – and are therefore unlikely to think of themselves as having a disorder. The specific form of SP that I have – and which some alleged victims of alien abduction probably have also – is known as Recurrent Isolated Sleep Paralysis (RISP). RISP, as defined by Jean-Christophe Terrillon and Sirley Marques-Bonham in a paper published in the Journal of Scientific Exploration, “is a rarer variant of sleep paralysis characterized by frequent episodes or a complex of sequential episodes of generally longer duration, and in particular by the range and intensity of the perceptual phenomena occurring during episodes.” Explained simply, RISP sufferers undergo, on a regular basis, generally long SP episodes, frequently accompanied by hypnagogic/hypnopompic hallucinations.

Although people are most likely to develop SP during their adolescent years – around the age of sixteen or seventeen – as happened to me, it is not uncommon to experience such episodes in childhood, nor is it impossible for a person to develop the condition at this age. I myself have vague memories of childhood SP episodes, some of them involving clear auditory hallucinations. I remember telling my brother when I was about six and he was about seven that “God” had spoken to me during the night. I was not asleep at the time, I insisted, but had just woken up. My brother said something to the effect of “Yeah, right!,” and I quickly forgot the incident, only to remember it about ten years later, when I developed RISP in my teens. The incidence of SP tends to decline as people move into their twenties, becoming significantly lower after the age of around thirty.

The condition is thought to be hereditary because it’s often shown to occur in families over many generations. This might explain why one of my uncles is, as far as I can determine, a chronic SP sufferer, as he claims to have had countless nocturnal visits from grey aliens and other entities. An artist of some note, my uncle is obsessed with fairly tale-type themes and frequently paints white rabbits dressed as people, gathered in the forest under the moonlight, surrounding nude, vulnerable girls. Some of these artworks remind one of Alice in Wonderland. Some of his other paintings feature fairies, cherubs, and other supernatural beings, many of them glowing.

Statistics for the prevalence of SP in the general population vary widely from study to study – depending, of course, in which country the study was conducted, how it was designed, what ages the participants were, and various other factors. Differing from the statistics mentioned earlier – that 25-to-40 percent of the population will undergo an SP episode at least once in the course of their life – are those provided by the 1990 International Classification of Sleep Disorders (ICSD), which states that the figure is 40-to-60 percent. On the University of Waterloo’s SP webpage, the figure given is 25-to-30 percent. The ICSD further states that SP experiences are frequent in about 3-to-6 percent of the population. I ask, once again, that the reader bear in mind that not all SP experiences feature hallucinations, and that these statistics apply equally to those who see flying green goblins and have full-blown OBEs, as well as to those who experience nothing but short bouts of uncomfortable paralysis.

In a study carried out in 1999 by the American Academy of Neurology, which surveyed the sleeping habits of 8,100 German and Italian participants, nearly 30 percent of people with severe SP were found to experience hallucinations during their episodes. Taking these figures, as well as those provided by the ICSD, in concert, one can easily calculate the percentage of RISP sufferers (chronic SP sufferers who experience hallucinations) in the general population, which is 0.9-1.8 percent. Not wanting to get bogged down in terminology, I will be using the term SP to refer to a whole range of such experiences, from those that involve hallucinations to some that don’t. This seems to be the norm these days, anyway, with SP being used as a very broad term. Because, as explained in The Abduction Enigma, written by Kevin Randle, Russ Estes, and William Cone, “there is no single, simple definition of what sleep paralysis is,” I feel it necessary to include a precise and comprehensive definition of the phenomenon, as given by R. J. Campbell in his dictionary of psychiatric terms:

“A benign neurological phenomenon, more probably due to some temporary dysfunction of the reticular activating system consisting of brief episodes of inability to move and/or speak when awakening or less commonly, when falling asleep. There is no accompanying disturbance of consciousness, and the subject has complete recall for the episode. The incidence of the phenomenon is highest in younger age groups (children and young adults) and much higher in males (80%) than females. It occurs in narcolepsy… The terms by which the phenomenon has been known are nocturnal hemiplegia, nocturnal paralysis, sleep numbness, delayed psychomotor awakening, cataplexy of awakening and post dormital chalastic fits.”

This book is an attempt to make sense of the SP phenomenon from an alternative, non-mechanistic perspective. Those of a skeptical disposition, who have little or no time for the occult or paranormal, will find nothing of value in this book. Only those who already have an interest in such subjects and are equipped with an open, but discerning, mind, are likely to enjoy this book and gain something from it. My hope is that SP sufferers like myself, who are fed up with the official explanation of SP, will find comfort within these pages and hopefully some answers, too.

Part one of Dark Intrusions deals primarily with the SP phenomenon and is rife with descriptions of my own SP episodes. Putting these experiences into words was by no means easy. When it comes to describing experiences of a paranormal nature – experiences that are of another realm and of another mode of consciousness – one is extremely limited by language. I ask that the reader bear this in mind. Please understand, moreover, that I am not recounting dreams, that what occurs during an SP episode goes far beyond anything that occurs during a dream and is a wholly different experience. If any of my SP experiences read like dreams, it’s because I’ve failed to describe them adequately.

Part two of Dark Intrusions expands on what I deal with in part one, placing the subject of SP in a much broader context. Many of the topics explored in this section – among them, poltergeist disturbances, mediumship, channeling, alien abduction, Spiritism, OBEs, and shamanism – may strike the reader as largely unrelated, and one is likely to wonder what any of them have to do with SP. I can assure the reader, however, that there is a method in my madness. Had I not examined the SP phenomenon from as many different angles as possible, what I now know about the subject would be very limited indeed. Furthermore, it has long been my understanding that there is no subject in the paranormal/occult field that isn’t related to another and which doesn’t supplement another. Having a comprehensive knowledge of such matters allows one to recognize this truth.

I have to admit that much of what I’ve written herein has been colored – though not dogmatically so – by my interest in Spiritism, an offshoot of Spiritualism, which began in France in the mid-1800s. I make frequent references to two Spiritist texts – The Spirits’ Book and The Mediums’ Book – and quote extensively from them. Not until I’d finished writing Dark Intrusions did I realize that it had such a strong Spiritist flavor. I even felt compelled to include a chapter on Chico Xavier, Brazil’s most famous Spiritist medium.

It would be accurate to say that this book, rather than being about SP, is essentially about the nature of incorporeal beings and the interactions that take place between them and us. I regard these matters as a kind of science – by no means a definite science, but a science nonetheless. It is my firm belief that we can bring the occult into the light, that what is classified as paranormal or supernatural need not remain elusive and incomprehensible.

One will notice, throughout the chapters of this book, a great many number of consistencies between the work of one paranormal researcher or shaman/occultist and that of another – consistencies that cannot be attributed to the sharing of information, or, for that matter, coincidence. These consistencies illuminate spiritual facts, and I think it is important that one takes notice of them. Only by piecing these facts together – rather than relying on purely subjective observations – can we begin to make any real progress with our understanding of the “spirit realm” and its inhabitants. It is my hope that this book is a step in the right direction.

DARK INTRUSIONS

An Investigation into the Paranormal Nature of Sleep Paralysis Experiences

By Louis Proud

Evola on Carlo Michelstaedter

Carlo Michelstaedter353   is one of those writers of the modern epoch who affirm the individual’s need to rise up to being, to an absolute value, by putting an end to all those compromises which mask an ἄβιοϛ βίοϛ,354   a life that is not life. Through this one brings oneself to that which man fears more than every other thing: facing oneself, measuring oneself in relation to “being.” Michelstaedter calls the state of being “persuasion,” and defines it essentially as a negation of correlations. When the I places the principle of its very consisting not in itself, but in the “other,” when its life is conditioned by things and by relations, where there is subjection to dependencies and to need—in this kind of existence, there can be no “persuasion,” but rather only the privation of value. Value is only an existing in oneself, not asking another for the ultimate principle and the sense of life itself: it is “autarchy” in the Hellenic sense.355   Thus not only the whole of an existence made of needs, of affects, of “sociality,” of intellectualistic adornment and the like is included in the sphere of non-value, but also the corporal organism and the system of nature itself (the experience of which is understood as generated, in its indefinite spatio-temporal development, by the incessant gravitation with which deficiency pursues being; however, insofar as being is sought outside of itself, deficiency will never succeed in possessing it).

The I which believes itself to be insofar as it persists, that is insofar as it ignores the fullness of an actual possession and carries its “persuasion” back to a subsequent moment, on which, moreover, it makes itself dependent; the I which in every present flees itself; the I which one does not have but seeks, and desires; the I which however in no future can ever be, since the future is the very symbol of its privation, the shadow that runs alongside the one that flees, at a given distance from the body of its reality, which at every point maintains itself unchanged—such an I is, for Michelstaedter, the meaning of daily life, but also of “non-value,” of the “must-not-be.” Against such a situation, “persuasion” postulates rather consisting, resisting existential deficiency with all one’s own life and at every point, never ceding to the life that is lacking to itself by searching beyond or in the future. It postulates not asking, but grasping “being” in one’s very fist: not to “go” but to endure. While existential deficiency accelerates time in its continuous anxiety for the future, and barters a present emptiness on a future one, the stability of the individual pre-occupies infinite time in the now, and arrests time. Its firmness is a dizzying slipstream for those who are still in the current. “Every one of the instants of such a man is a century of the life of the others—so long as he makes of himself a flame and reaches a consisting in the ultimate present.”356   To clarify this point, it is important to comprehend the nature of correlation which is contained in its premises: given that the world is understood as generated away from the right direction and toward deficiency, of which it is almost the tangible incarnation, it is an illusion to think that “persuasion” might be realized through an abstract and subjective consisting in that value (as in Stoicism) which has being (experienced nature) against it, such that, though it has no value, it is. He who tends toward absolute persuasion must arise instead to a cosmic responsibility. That is: I must not flee from my deficiency—which is mirrored by the world—but take it onto me, adjust myself to its weight and redeem it. For which Michelstaedter states: “You cannot call yourself persuaded as long as something is, that is not persuaded,” and he hints at persuasion as being “at the extreme consciousness of him who is one with things, who has all things in himself:  ἒ ουνεχές.”357  

To clarify Michelstaedter’s central problem, one can relate the concept of insufficiency to the Aristotelian concept of the imperfect act.358   The imperfect or “impure” act is an act of potencies that do not arrive in themselves (κάθ αὐτο)359   to the act, and for this have need of an other. This is the case, for instance, of sensory perception, whose potency of perceiving is not sufficient in and of itself: by itself this potency does not produce perception, but has need of some correlated object. Now, the fundamental point which connects this to Michelstaedter’s position is the following: in the transcendental realm the imperfect act resolves the privation of the I only apparently; in reality, it reconfirms it. To formulate an example through comparison, the I is thirsty. As long as it drinks it confirms the state of him who is not sufficient in his own life but who, in order to live, has need of “other”; water and the rest are naught but the symbols of his deficiency. (On this point one must fix one’s attention: one does not desire because there is a privation of being, but there is a privation of being because one desires—and, in the second place: there is not a desire, for example that of drinking, because there are determinate things, for example water, but the desired things, just as the privation of being which urges toward them, are created at one and the same point from out of the relative desire. Desire is, therefore, the prius360   which creates the correlation as its two ends, namely privation and corresponding object, or in our example thirst and water.) And insofar as one feeds of it and asks one’s life of it, the I feeds only of its own privation and endures in this privation, fleeing from that “pure” or perfect act, from that eternal water, of which speak the very words of Christ,361    and wherein every thirst, and likewise every other privation, would be forever conquered. This yearning, this dark emesis,362   which carries the I toward the external—toward the “other”—is that which generates in experience the system of finite and contingent reality. Persuasion, which burns such emesis in the state of absolute consisting, of the pure being-in-itself, has therefore also the sense of “consummation” of the world that reveals itself to me.

The sense of such a consummation is clarified by arriving at consequences which Michelstaedter has not completely succeeded in bringing out.

Before all, to say that I must not flee from my deficiency signifies, among other things, that I must recognize myself as the creative function of an experienced world. The justification of so-called transcendental idealism (that is the philosophical system according to which the world is posited by the I) might follow from this, based on a moral imperative. But according to this premise the world is considered as a negation of value. A second point thus proceeds from the general postulate of redeeming the world, of taking on its deficiency—a second point which is as much a practical postulate as a moral one: the very negation of value itself must be recognized, in a certain way, as a value. This is important. Indeed, if I consider the impulse which has generated the world as a pure, irrational datum, it is evident that persuasion, insofar as it is conceived as the negation of that datum, comes to depend on it, and so is not absolutely sufficient to itself but depends on the “other,” on the negation which permits it to affirm itself. In such a case, that is, in the case in which the same yearning is not reclaimed as the affirmation of value but remains entirely a datum, persuasion would therefore not at all be persuasion—the initiatory mystery would inevitably reduce perfection to an illusion. For which it is necessary to admit as a moral postulate that the same antithesis participates, in a certain way, in value. But in what way? Such a problem carries us to admit a certain dynamism in the concept of persuasion. Indeed it is obvious that if persuasion is not reduced to a pure, unrelated sufficiency (that is, to a state), but if it is rather sufficiency insofar as it is negation of an insufficiency (that is, an act, a relation), the antithesis certainly has value and is explained: the I at first must pose privation, non-value, if only under the condition that it is posed precisely so that it might be negated, because this act of negation, and it alone, generates the value of persuasion. But what does it mean to negate the antithesis—which in this context is equivalent to saying, nature? One recalls that for Michelstaedter nature is a non-value insofar as it is symbol and incarnation of the flight of the I from actual possession of itself, insofar as it is correlative to an imperfect or “impure” act in the sense mentioned above. One does not treat therefore of negating this or that determination of the existent, because with such negation one would strike only at the effect, the consequence, not the transcendental root, of non-value; nor even of eliminating in general every action, because the antithesis is not the action in general, but rather the action insofar as it is flight from oneself, insofar as it is “going”—and it is not a given that every action necessarily has such a sense. What must be resolved is rather the passive, heteronomous, extroverted mode of action. Now negation in such a mode is constituted by the action sufficient to itself, which is also potency. To live every act in perfect possession and so to transfigure the whole of the forms until these do not express anything but the very body of an infinite potestas363  —let us say, of the absolute Individual made of potency—this is therefore the sense of cosmic and, (at the same time), existential redemption. Just as the concretization of “rhetoric” is the development of the world of dependency and of necessity, so the concretization of persuasion is the development of a world of autarchy and of dominion, and the point of pure negation is only the neutral point between the two phases.

The development of Michelstaedter’s views on that which one might call a “magical idealism” appears therefore to proceed according to a logical continuity. Michelstaedter in a certain way however remained fixed in an indeterminate negation, and this, in great part, because he did not consider sufficiently that the finite and the infinite should not be referred to a particular object or action, but that they are two modes of living any object or action. The true Lord does not in general have need of negating (in the sense of nullifying) nor, under the pretext of rendering it absolute, of reducing life to an undifferentiated unity, almost, if you please, in a species of lightning flash: the act of potency—the which is not an act of desire or of violence—rather than destroying perfect possession, attests it and confirms it. But Michelstaedter, for the very intensity in which he lived the need of absolute value, did not know how to give this value a concrete body and simultaneously to develop it in the doctrine of potency; the which perhaps is related to the tragic end of his mortal existence.364  

However Michelstaedter himself affirmed that “we do not want to know in relation to what things a man is determined, but rather we want to know how he is determined,” which is to say, beyond the act, one treats of the form or value according to which the individual is to be seen. In fact every logical relation is in a certain way indeterminate, and value is a higher dimension in which it is specified. One of Michelstaedter’s merits is his reaffirmation of the importance of value in the metaphysical order: indeed “rhetoric” and the “path of persuasion” are distinguishable not from a purely logical point of view, but rather by the point of view of value alone. It is very important here that Michelstaedter in a certain way recognizes that there are two paths. This duplicity is itself a value: because the affirmation of persuasion cannot count as affirmation of liberty when one does not have the awareness of the possibility of affirmation as a value of non-value itself, a kind of indifference: for only the “Lord of Yes and No” is free and infinite (on this problem, cf. our Theory of the Absolute Individual, I, §§ 1-5). The other justification of the antithesis, introduced above, evidently takes as its presupposition the positive option for “persuasion.”  

[←353 ]  Michelstaedter (1887-1910) was a Jewish Italian writer, philosopher, and man of letters who was remarkably productive in the short span of his life. He was a student of the classic philosophers, especially Plato and Aristotle, and his work bears a decidedly classical stamp of rare purity. He attempted, as the classical philosophers, to extract himself from a tragic existence by becoming internally complete. His life runs in intriguing parallel to that of the Jewish Austrian Otto Weininger (see note 178 to Chapter 15 above). Michelstaedter’s most important work is thought to be his Persuasion and Rhetoric. All quotes in the following chapter, unless otherwise noted, come from that work.

[←354 ]  Ancient Greek: “lifeless life.”

[←355 ]  Autarchy comes from the Ancient Greek αὐτάρκεια, meaning literally “self-rule,” but coming thus to mean to the Hellenic mindset total self-sufficiency, perfect independence.

[←356 ]  [Evola’s note.]Taken from Michealstaedter’s Il dialogo della salute. [The Dialogue on Health, yet to be translated into English. -Trans.]

[←357 ]  ἒ ουνεχές is Ancient Greek, meaning “really or truly being ones own self” or “really and truly possessing one’s own self.”

[←358 ]  That is, an act which requires something external to itself for its realization.

[←359 ]  Ancient Greek: “just as the self” or “according to the self.”

[←360 ]  Latin: “first or primary thing, the prior thing.”

[←361 ]  [Evola’s note.] John 4:14. “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”

[←362 ]  Italian: conato oscuro.

[←363 ]  Latin: “power, ability, potency.” 

[←364 ]  On October 17, 1910, the very day that he finished the appendices of his Persuasion and Rhetoric, and following an argument with his mother, Michelstaedter took his own life. Evola’s speculation that this might have had something to do with Michelstaedter’s failure to bring his own ideas to necessary conclusion, his remaining on the plane of mere negation, is certainly an intriguing one. It is made all the more intriguing by the fact that thoughts of suicide were not altogether foreign to Evola. Indeed, in a kind of spiritual crisis following the First World War, Evola was almost carried away by such an urge. (See note 343 to Chapter 32 above; also, The Path of Cinnabar, “Personal Background and Early Experiences.”)

Monday, November 2, 2026

From the Prison Memoirs of 00040 aka Clifford Irving

 August 28, 1972

This morning I ate a good breakfast of orange juice, French toast, crisp bacon and a pot of hot coffee, and then surrendered to the U.S. Marshall at the courthouse in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania.

He handcuffed me, shackling the cuffs to a steel belt chained round my waist. He apologized for doing this, but the last man for whom they’d made an exception, the left-wing activist publisher Ralph Ginzburg, had stepped outside the courthouse and begun to yell and then burned a copy of the Federal Constitution in front of the TV cameras. They didn’t want anything like that to happen again. We drove off on a dusty road to the federal prison camp at Allenwood, about fifteen miles away. The day was hot and cloudy. Arriving, they took everything I owned, clothes, the works, including my diving watch and the gold ring I inherited from my father.

In its place they gave me my federal prison number – 00040. “It’s yours for life,” one of the guards explained to me.

Now I’m in Dorm Five, a ramshackle single-story wooden building that once was painted white but has since acquired the color and texture of a sheet that hasn’t been changed for months. The smell of sweat predominates. The men call it The Jungle. New arrivals are parked here until beds become available in the newer, better dormitories. A constant mutter, sometimes ascending to a din, assaults the ears; the entire population laughs, yells and curses at the same time.

Two blacks are my neighbors, each of them the size of NFL defensive guards, and they get into a religious debate after supper, which is meat loaf and baked beans. “Listen, brother,” one says. “I tell you one thing – in this life they ain’t no such thing as no motherfuckin salvation. This is just one mean motherfucker from the beginning when you born to the motherfuckin end when you die. Do you dig my meaning, brother? You better motherfuckin well believe it.”

They’ve given me an upper bunk next to the showers. The mattress is thin and gray, the springs sag, so that my back aches when I lie down. They give me clean sheets and I make the bed neatly. I want to behave. Just like summer camp back in Maine when I was a kid.

Do I feel depressed? Better motherfuckin well believe it.

August 29

I woke at 5 a.m., exhausted. The hot water dripped all night in the shower room. Steam billowed into the dormitory, so that it must have been well over 100 degrees. I got up and tried to turn off the hot water taps but they were fiery hot to the touch and the nuts had been stripped. With the crawling mist, rising steam and the steady drip of the water, as from branches, I felt as if I’d spent the night in a tropical rain forest. No one else seemed to mind.

I was called down later to the office of Mr. Weger, the Camp Superintendent, who looks like a 35-year-old, dapper version of Elvis Presley. He struck me as a bright, mean-minded man. The men despise him.

He said, “We don’t want any trouble out of you, Irving. Just don’t make waves. Don’t be a jailhouse lawyer.”

Me? All I want to do is make parole in June. I’m going to be as troublesome as a mouse.

Then Weger turned me over to Mr. Huntsinger, the Assistant Superintendent, an old bullnecked pro who was a Lieutenant of the Guard at Lewisburg penitentiary. I’ve already learned that he’s tough but that the men trust him. “I followed your case,” he said. “I was rooting for you. Tough luck. Stay out of trouble in here. Don’t trust anybody. Anybody.”

He assigned me to a job: clerk in the office of the prison factory. The factory makes wooden furniture for the government, for judges’ offices and the FBI. I’ll be paid 21 cents an hour, tax-free.

I went down there and met the men I’ll work with: Sioti, Willie Polk, Lembke, Claude and Joe D. Sioti was a big bookie. Willie’s a hillbilly who transported stolen cars from Kentucky to Ohio. Lembke was a mayor of some town in Pennsylvania; he pocketed government funds. Claude, a printer, went for the big score and counterfeited $4 million. Joe D. is a medium-echelon Mafioso doing time for possession of stolen securities. He’s already taken me under his wing (even though he’s eight inches shorter than I am) and shown me around the camp.

Carmine de Sapio of Tammany Hall is an inmate here, too. And an army general named Turner – he invented the handcuff-and-shackle system they use on us; but the army caught him selling machine guns, privately, to the highest bidder in Chicago – and the former Attorney General of West Virginia, and the assistant to a U.S. Senator, a sheriff, and a couple of judges. Classy company.

August 30

Sioti told me that at his trial in Philadelphia his lawyer, who was a sixty-year-old veteran and considered very good, made a long impassioned summation speech in his defense. His sick wife, his kids, his work in the community, etc. Then the very young U.S. Attorney spoke to the jury. “I don’t have the eloquence or the $350 suit of the defense attorney or the defendant. I’m wearing a suit from Robert Hall. But I’m working for the people, for you.”

Sioti: “That motherfucker convicted me on a lousy $70 suit.”

September 3

Allenwood is a minimum security “honor camp,” whatever that means. It spreads over 4500 pastoral acres and supports about 900 head of scrawny beef cattle, butchered periodically to feed the inmates of various eastern federal prisons. No gates, no walls, no guntowers – just an easy-to-penetrate wire fence that circles the perimeter. No rehabilitation, either. They just warehouse men. The men are called residents, not inmates or prisoners. They keep a constant population mix of about 40% white, 50% black, and 10% Spanish-speaking, mostly Puerto Ricans. There are five dormitories housing between three and four hundred men. They’re short-timers or else finishing out big bits begun elsewhere; this is supposed to be a decompression chamber.

The hacks – guards; or, as they call themselves, Correctional Officers – are mostly local yokels who’d be working in a lumber yard or on a farm if they didn’t have this job. Some of them seem decent enough.

It’s easy to escape from Allenwood. You just walk out when no one’s looking. Some men go out for a few hours to meet their wives or girlfriends at a local motel. It’s risky, though.

Joe D. says the government makes hardly an effort to recapture you if you escape. They just wait. “The feds know you can’t stay away from your family forever. It would destroy whatever faith you’ve still got in human nature to find out how many of those poor bastards are turned in by their wives or some other relative. Or else they get nailed committing some other crime. You gotta remember, most of our residents here ain’t playing with a full deck.”

September 5

Sure enough, four men went over the hill this weekend. One of them had only five weeks left to serve on a two-year sentence. They say he got a Dear John letter from his wife. That’s common, I’m told. The other three flipped out after the Saturday night movie, 99 Women, a skin flick about dikes on an Italian island prison. The men took off early the next morning. I had to leave the movie in the middle and go back to bed in the dorm and, surrounded by clouds of steam, jerk off. I don’t want to be reminded that there’s an outside world with women in it. I just don’t want to know. And I think the mind can do extraordinary things, block out what it wishes, create a companionable and easeful world where, by most standards, none exists.

September 7

I’ve learned a new vocabulary.

A hack is a guard. The joint, of course, is the prison. A good stop is an easy joint, like this one is supposed to be. Leavenworth and Terre Haute are bad stops. The Street is life outside. Lewisburg, our neighbor facility seventeen miles away — the maximum security prison for the northeastern United States — is The Wall. A shot is a disciplinary report for an infraction of the rules. To get shot is to be reported. A copout is an inmate’s written request to the administration for just about anything from a furlough to a change of jobs. A rat and a snitch are informers, and that’s about the worst thing you can be in the joint. Your bit is your prison term. Your beef is what you did to earn it. Your house is your bed and its environs, your slice of personal territory. The hole is solitary confinement – the administration calls it Segregation. A shank is a home-made knife, usually fashioned from the guts of an iron cot. A five-year sentence is a nickel. Ten years is a dime, 25 is a quarter. Two tens running wild would mean two consecutive ten-year sentences.

Willie Polk says, “I had bad luck. I went before a dime-store judge. All he knew was five, ten, and a quarter. First time out of the box he slips me a nickel.”

Other than vocabulary, I’ve been here ten days now and I’ve learned three basic things. How to use the word motherfucker in every sentence, how to eat an entire meal with a spoon, and how to steal. That may be the essential prison experience.

September 10

Joe D. is about 45, short, neat, slick, olive-skinned, with warm liquid brown eyes. He has a tic – he blinks constantly. He says it gets worse as the time approaches for him to go before the parole board.

He tells me about The Wall, where he recently spent a few years.

“There’s no Mickey Mouse at The Wall. Everything is security over there. It’s a five star penitentiary – max max max. You’re the garbage of the world and that’s where you belong. They expect you to play their game, try to con them. And they respect you for it, and they’re happy. The alternative is to be a hardnose and then they’ll play with your head. You’re a number. You’re constantly searched. The man examines you, sticks his nose up your asshole – it can’t be pleasant, but the man’s used to it by now. You’re not a body, see? – you’re a number.

“Good jobs go to the heavy men, the guys who are doing ten years up to double life, or else the Warden will have trouble. But he expects these men to keep order, to run the joint, and they do. Also the choice jobs, like clerks, go to the Jews and the Italians, then the Anglos. Blacks get sent to industry and work their ass off – they need the money. The PRs dominate food service, and they steal for you, for a price. Apparently they’ve proven statistically that Jews and affluent Italians can stay loyal to their own kind and at the same time not try to fuck the institution.

“It’s not really so bad over there. You get good food at night – I mean steaks stolen from the kitchen, packed in laundry carts. There are fourteen hundred men at The Wall, kid, scheming day and night – got nothing else to do. The man condones this to avoid pressure building up. The wops run the gambling. Men lose a lot of money. They play for cigarette cartons but it adds up, and if you can’t pay up inside you better fucking well have your old lady pay up on the street within a week or they give you a blanket party. And then there’s always, I’d say, thirty or forty thousand dollars in cash floating around inside The Wall at any given time, hidden here and there. They found a stash of ten grand once in the greenhouse, buried under the geraniums. No one ever raised his hand and said, `Hey, that’s mine, give it back.’

“Booze is made inside – yeast from the bakery, alcohol from the Medical Department. I’m telling you, these people have years to scheme and practice. The guys doing big bits know which of the hacks can be had. And they get drugs, too. They steal the drugs meant for other inmates. Their attitude is, `Fuck you. You’re here today, gone tomorrow, maybe doing a nickel, but I’m doing twenty years, man – I live here.’ You pass some guy in the hallway over there at The Wall and just brush his sleeve, and you better say, ‘Excuse me.’ A guy doing natural life don’t care if he kills you. What can they do to him? Put him in the hole? He’s been there. He don’t care. While I was there, a man was shanked in the chow hall over a jelly donut. These guys were on the chow line. There was one jelly donut left on the tray. The guy at the head of the chow line was about to take it when the guy in back of him reached around and took it from under his nose and laughed and says, `Fuck you, bubblehead.’ So the guy in front reached up his pants leg and whipped out a shank he had taped there and shoved it into the other guy’s stomach. And he laughed, and says, `You a bubblebelly, bubblehead.’ He took the jelly donut from the guy’s tray as this guy started to fall. Then he went over to a table and ate the jelly donut while the other guy lay on the tile practically at his feet, blood gushing out of him and crying for help. I saw that happen.

“My first job over there, they put me in food service, handing out pork chops. I was getting about two hours sleep a night around then because I was in F block, which is rough – I was shitscared. So these black dudes start fussing and saying, `Gimme a different pork chop, man,’ or `This pork chop’s too small. Gimme two, motherfucker.’ I dropped my spatula and went over to the hack and said, `You got a fucking nerve assigning me to this job. I got to live with these animals. Put me in the hole, but I ain’t working here any more. I may get killed in this joint, but I ain’t getting killed over a goddam pork chop.’ And so they gave me a job mopping the corridor.”

And Joe laughs.

Sounds interesting, but I think I’ll try to skip it.

J A I L I N G

Clifford Irving