Experiments In ET-Human Communications
by Meryl JohnsonMy name is Meryl Johnson and I'm a museum scientist who has established research laboratories in major museums for many years. I have taught chemistry and traditional techniques of painting at a university, and have also headed research and development for an artists' paint manufacturing company. I have received awards as a computer programmer and have published poetry, fiction, and articles about art and technology.
I have been aware of my experiences with "aliens" for the past three years, and I consider myself too good a scientist to deny that something extraordinary is happening.
I woke up in mid-air, about to land on my poor cat, Alfred. He was huddled against the wall, looking at me with horror, paw raised to strike. I managed to shift enough before I landed on my bed to not crush him. He was sure I was attacking him, so I grabbed a pillow to put between us, so startled I almost forgot the strange "dream" I'd had before finding myself falling.
I hadn't been with the typical Greys, but with two extremely tall, skinny "men" with large, dark eyes, and we'd been sitting at a conference table asking each other questions. I'd felt extremely cold, suspicious, and rational. They wanted to know if I'd be willing to take part in an experiment in communications. They'd studied "us," meaning humans, for a long time, knew a tremendous number of facts about us, but didn't know what the facts meant. Of course, because of the one-sided nature of their visits, we didn't know much about them, either, and they felt it was time for this to begin to change. They wanted to teach me how to "see" this kind of experience correctly.
They'd chosen the bait well. I'm a scientist - how could I resist such an opportunity? There are risks involved, they explained, which was peculiarly honest of them. I didn't have to do this. I was interested, but dubious, aware of the danger of betraying humanity by cooperating with them. I set conditions. I reserved the right to change my mind and withdraw from the "experiment" at any time. I wanted assurances that neither I nor anyone else would be harmed as a result. I demanded the right to ask questions, to which I'd be given honest answers. I wanted to remember what happened. They agreed.
And in fact, they've kept their word. Twice since then, as the "experiment," and my experiences have entered new phases, I've been reminded that there are risks and I've been asked if I am willing to continue. Every question I've asked has been answered, usually within a few days, sometimes vastly more extensively than I'd had in mind. One question was not answered for a long time. I'd asked if they had music; this was finally answered (yes they do) in a way that signaled the end of a phase and the departure of my original "teachers." Also, at one point, I got very annoyed with them and sent them away. What had happened is a story in itself, too long to include in this article, but it involved whether or not they were going to trust me. When I insisted that they go, they went, as they had agreed. I eventually relented and allowed them to come back if they'd agree to a requirement of mutual respect.
I realize now that I'd had many years of preparation for this experiment, blissfully unaware that I was actually in contact with anything unusual. I shouldn't have been unaware; there were plenty of signs if I'd taken them seriously and paid attention to them. I'd taken each uncanny incident as singular, never likely to be repeated. I didn't believe in the paranormal, and certainly didn't believe in UFOs - even though I'd had rare but spectacular sightings - or in their occupants being in contact with us. That I'd had plenty of preparation, though, was confirmed early in the experiment; I was told that I'd "passed many tests."
Once I'd agreed, I was in for months of almost nightly visits. This is no substitute for normal sleep, and I was exhausted! Luckily, since then things have slowed down. The lessons I was given were extremely intense. I want to say immediately that this is my experience, I have no idea how common or unique it is, whether I've managed to understand it correctly, whether it should be taken as metaphor or literally, or whether it represents any important truths.
They began by explaining, more or less, why the experiment was necessary; that there are vast cultural differences between us, somewhat as though I were dropped into, say, 5th century BC China with interpreters who couldn't comprehend my culture or technology, or I theirs. It's only through a difficult, conscious mutual exchange that we can begin to understand what we observe.
This was not a simple, linear process. There were definite themes, but they tended to overlap and even blend into each other. At first, I was lectured about my personal health. The advice given was perfectly ordinary, eat less fat, stop eating meat, get more exercise, so I didn't take it seriously. But then I was visited by two furious aliens and painlessly examined. They were doing what they could, they hissed, as they extracted clumps of decayed cells from my body, but there were limits to what they could do! Why wasn't I paying attention to their advice? Within a few days I had the worst cold I'd had in at least 15 years and went to my doctor. I rarely get colds, but tend to get a yearly checkup. While waiting for the doctor I casually read my medical chart and was shocked to discover that although he'd had all the usual tests run each year he'd never bothered to tell me the results, and I'd assumed that everything had been normal. My cholesterol was high, I was anemic, and in general I was in terrible shape! I was lucky that I'd merely gotten a cold! I immediately found a better doctor, whose advice, interestingly, matched that of the aliens. I began to improve my health and to take what the aliens had to say more seriously.
I could ask questions, and the questions I asked formed the basis for many lessons. I can't begin to summarize them all in a short article, but I asked about their culture and whether they had a religion or philosophy, mostly because I wanted to know if they actually had any. For months, I received lessons about reincarnation, the afterlife, spirit, and the nature of the sacred, until I began to worry that perhaps I was having these experiences because I was going to die soon. This turned into an examination of my nature as a "little primate;" my relationship to all life on this planet, the sacredness of physical life, and the advantages and disadvantages of being physical. The effect on me was profound; I've never loved life on Earth more! I was also offered a series of choices. I could become a medium, a psychic, a healer, channel, be a spiritual teacher, even a prophet. I turned them all down, and they were delighted! The point seemed to be that we have these particular talents if we choose to use them, not that they were offering me gifts. My impression is that it could be a terrible mistake to choose to use a particular talent while assuming that it's some extraordinary gift from them. If we do that, we're stuck with it, and it's as far as we go, having failed to grasp a more important lesson.
Other important information I learned is that our sensory systems are quite different from theirs. This makes it hard for them to know whether we actually see and hear what they intend for us to see and hear. Everything gets complicated, too, by our emotional responses to them. We project our own emotional contents and impressions into the experiences, and then can't get the actual messages they are trying to give us. And we expect them to think and act like humans, according to human standards. They aren't human, and don't understand what we expect. This has caused a lot of confusion; they have trouble telling the difference between what we fear and what we want them to do, for example.
Actually, there are solid physiological reasons why we have trouble perceiving them as they really are. Our brains are hard-wired as we develop, and all information is transformed, correctly or not, into information as we'd expect to receive normal sensory information. That's probably equally true for them. I suspect that these, and other extraordinary experiences are so hard to comprehend because they happen at the limits of what we're physically able to perceive correctly.
Visual "Scenes" as Learning Tools
All of these points were carefully illustrated for me again and again by showing me scenes. I'd look at them, and be told to look harder. The scenes would shift and change, or even vanish. "That's what your mind does," they'd say. In other words, I'd constructed the scenes out of information they'd been trying to give me, and I'd have to learn how to "look through" those screens I'd constructed.
I was also taught to "see through" the screens that they construct and to be aware that things can happen on several levels at once. They were dead serious about this, and if I can now "see through" what they're up to, it's because they taught me how to do it. There can be a gorgeous narrative working itself out, quite possibly meaningful in itself in a metaphorical sense, while "underneath" this, an examination or some other activity is taking place. I've learned to be aware of this and see both at once. I've learned to be quite suspicious of narratives, regardless of how beautiful or terrifying, and especially of the interpretations given them. They may not mean, or even be what we think.
I was told that abduction is only necessary for physical examinations or occasional special meetings. Communication can take place by various other means, ranging from meetings on the street, through abductions to "guided dreams." This seems to be true. One aspect of these experiences is the peculiar kinds of verification I've received, which often consists of daytime confirmation, often through synchronicity, indicating that I should take seriously what had happened during the night. Sometimes I've been given information, meaningless to me, but extremely meaningful to someone else. This has always been information I couldn't possibly have known by any other means.
As for the risks involved, they're quite serious. The biggest risk, so far as I can see, is the risk of self-delusion and self-deception. These experiences can serve as a quick trip to serious trouble in our lives if we assume that our interpretations are correct and act accordingly. This is true regardless of whether we give them positive or negative interpretations. There's no point at which we can be entirely certain that we are interpreting these experiences correctly and know exactly what they mean. There's still plenty that we have to learn. Having these experiences doesn't mean that we're in any way special or elite, or receiving special information from superior beings, either. I've been scolded more than once for becoming too trusting of my teachers! Which, again, seems peculiarly honest of them.
We remain responsible for ourselves, our behavior, and our own lives. We have no reason to suppose that the aliens are here to rescue us, take care of us, or be responsible for us in any way. We also have no reason to assume that we're under their control and pass responsibility for what happens to them. Assuming that they're arranging marriages, require us to move to different parts of the country, etc., can lead to disaster - unless it's in our own best interest to do these things.
Why should we take their advice any more seriously than that of anyone else's? Sometimes, months later, I can see that something that seemed extremely personal, and maybe helpful or harmful, at the time, was merely a quest for information on their part. Since we're all powerful individuals in our own right - both them and us - there are considerable risks on both sides. We need to be careful and work hard at developing better communications, taking nothing for granted as actually "solved" yet. Our minds are constructed for problem solving, to reach conclusions and demand immediate answers and explanations. This is one area in which we're not going to get this degree of certainty without a lot of hard work. At this point, interpretations are speculation. Letting our imaginations create myths out of this material is not the correct response.
by Meryl Johnson, ©1996