The Problem With Remote Viewing
by Author X
Lately I've noticed that Remote Viewing has a problem. A really big one, in fact. How big? Well let's think about a nice, fancy cruise ship liner. Oh, how about the Titanic? Yeah, that sounds good. Envision this majestic ship in its prime: glistening hull, pristine decks, freshly painted chairs peeking out from behind the unblemished rails of the upper decks: A ship full of hope, promise, and the herald of a new generation of travel — something truly special.
Is the "ship" the problem that I refer to? No, not at all. I like to think of Remote Viewing as this ship, actually; the ship that carried with it such glamour and hope—a defining model of how things should be done.
That is, until it sank.
Now hold on, you're probably saying right now, "Remote Viewing hasn't sunk. In fact, it's more popular today than ever. There are tens of thousands of registered TRV students, and more who have learned the technology from friends and relatives. This can't be the doomed ship you're referring to… why, TRV is just in the early light of its life, a bright future and amazing potential lay just ahead!"
That is, until it sinks.
Now don't get me wrong, there is actually nothing wrong with the idea of Remote Viewing itself. It certainly works, as anyone who has tried it out (and followed the instructions) has discovered for him or herself. The whole notion of luck only flies the first three or four times you describe a target you've had no prior knowledge of, and it certainly flees heartily once you see so many students all over the world beating chance over and over again in a seemingly endless vista of direct knowledge. So where is the fatal flaw here? Right under your nose, of course. The one component left out of the research done long ago, the one immeasurable quantity that pervades every part of a Remote Viewing session. Watch, you'll see.
Before I actually reveal this heinous error in the process, I think it would be best to make you suffer, and examine some of the nature of Remote Viewing and what makes it so popular in the first place.
I had already discussed the underlying need the vast majority of people who have learned Remote Viewing have in "Confessions of a TRV Dropout". It is the implicit drive that pervades every part of their being and allows them to make the mental leap required to break out of their paradigm box. It just isn't human nature to take a chance based on faith, unless one has something they need to get out of the transaction. The need to know, the burning question that never goes away, like the scorching desert sun at noon. It bears down on every square centimeter of your skin, burning it and assaulting it, until at last your beleaguered mind falters and gives in to the relentless prickling of hope. Yes my friend, you've caught the Remote Viewing bug, and now your life won't ever be the same.
I did exclude a small but growing percentage of new Remote Viewing students from that number however, and those are the ones who are in it for money. Shrewd businessmen, they see it as an investment, one of many doubtlessly engaged in the calculated gamble for profit. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I include it here for completeness. For them also, the fatal flaw in the Remote Viewing process is one which can, if it hasn't already, rear its hideous head and expose the awful, yellowed and crusty teeth of failure.
So what is this horrible oversight that is so crucially important for all of us to know, and to make strides to mitigate? Perhaps it's in your sessions right now. Perhaps you're already aware of it, and perhaps you will become its next victim tonight. You can't really ever be sure where it lies, but you can always be sure that it is there, right under the surface, twitching restlessly under that pristine white sheet of compressed wood pulp on your desk. Oh, it knows you know its there, and it likes that. It wants you to see the greater story, and uncover all the marvels of the mind. It knows the secrets that you don't, and it knows how to use them against you. Are you starting to see the crucial oversight here, the most important failure in the Remote Viewing process?
It's you.
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The designers could not handle this beast. Its foul breath alone was enough to make a person run in disgust, and the handling of the creature was a thought most unthinkable. Instead, they created a cage. They sought to confine it, to allow it to growl, hiss, and claw at the Remote Viewing structure, but be restricted nonetheless. If they could not control the creature, they would at least distance it from them. But the creature was wily, and spent every second in that cage thinking of ways to escape, and escape it does.
Every time you drop your pen, the creature is out. You scramble wildly to contain it, to write the name of the creature down on your paper, slamming the pen down in the vain hope that somehow, someway, this time the cage door will remain closed. But it never does. And so the dance begins again, reaching a nearly fluid quality reserved for the most planned choreography, as creature meets pen, paper meets cage, and your mind meets the challenge of AOL.
This is not a byproduct of the Remote Viewing structure; this is a byproduct of the human mind — your mind.
But there is more to it than just AOL. We're all familiar with the creature, we've long since grown accustomed to its irritated grumblings, the occasional clatter against the bars of our mental prison, and the constant reek of those unclean jowls. We can only avoid that which we cannot control.
There comes a time however, when we fail to control it. We hear the beast clatter in the cage, the overgrown nails scraping on bare metal, the sounds of discontentment, and we know that all is well. The creature is still in the cage. But if you were to stop, right now, and look over your shoulder, you'd see it. The creature is right there, with you. It's not in the cage any longer, but instead sitting patiently beside you, watching with interest as you try to concentrate on your process. You've grown so accustomed to the din and racket it makes that you can't conceive of anything else.
And that is the critical failure of Remote Viewing.
There is an old adage that says, "familiarity breeds contempt." It's an adage which proves itself day in and day out. For us, as humans, the mere presence of other humans breeds contempt for them, for our neighbors and brothers. We see ourselves as better than them, as something special — no, not as Remote Viewers, but merely as people… as inhabitants of the planet Earth.
I had large hopes that Remote Viewing would solve this problem — that the promise of direct knowledge would somehow show and present itself to people, and change them for the better. That hasn't yet manifested itself to be true. Yet another adage explains this, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." We can have all the knowledge in the world, and yet we still may not use it. The monster next to us may whisper in our ear, tell us how much we know already and how little left there is to learn. We're Remote Viewers, after all, what is there that we cannot know?
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The well-trodden path to this common fallacy is easily followed back to the source, which is in my experience, simple human psychology. Many of us have considered the idea of security though knowledge. How many of us have slept better at night knowing Grandma's heart is really ok, or that the bumps you hear are just the water heater turning on and not a fiery gate to hell opening up under the stairs? Remote Viewing is supposed to make things easier. But then we question. We wonder, is there more?
For all that I have learned, how much more is there to learn still? Remote Viewing yields as many new questions as it does answers. We know angels exist, we know an afterlife exists, but what of it? Is it a good afterlife? Do angels turn bad? Are there demons? Will Grandma fall down the stairs now that she moves faster without worry about her heart? The opening of the panorama of knowledge only serves to make us, if perhaps involuntarily, cower backwards, looking for the safety of the small hole we had become so accustomed to. It is quite a bit of responsibility, to have all of this open to us. We falter, we worry, and we make a mistake. We blow a session on a missing child. We can't be sure the AOL we got of "dangerous stairs" in Grandma's session didn't mean something ominous. Quick, have someone else work the target! But they get the same mysterious data. We don't know where to go. What's happening? I thought being able to know everything was supposed to make this easier!
And the beast speaks:
You don't need Remote Viewing. Look at you. You've come a long way, baby. You're no longer crippled by your disbeliefs, your fears, your uncertainties. You know more than most humans would ever have the opportunity to consider. No door is closed to you. You can blackmail anyone, find anything hidden, see your future and your past. What is this talk of uncertainly and fear? You're special, baby.
Just listen to me and I'll take care of it all for you.
And so the failure begins. We stop listening to the nagging doubt and difficulty inherent in Remote Viewing, and we instead start down that treacherous path of delusion.
The most insidious part of this problem with Remote Viewing is that it can be totally hidden. Yes, "Viewer X" did a session. So did "Viewer Y." But they have totally different results. Who is right? Is either of them right? You can't really tell what is in a person's mind, if they have an agenda to serve, or a pre-conceived notion to uphold.
Oh sure, you can do a Remote Viewing session to find out. But at some point you run out of ink, paper, and patience. At an hour or more a pop, those questions you want answered need to be pared down to something more manageable. You already know God exists, right? Why should you bother to check? You know your kids aren't lying to you about going to the PG-rated movie, so why investigate. There are so many things you know, after all.
Ultimately, we must remember that Remote Viewing is just a tool. It doesn't make anyone more special than anybody else, and it makes none of us, even those who are masters or neophytes, untrained and trained alike, any less susceptible to the wiles of that beast that lurks, only barely contained, in each and every one of our minds. Remote Viewing itself will not combat the post-modern dogmas that come flying out from underneath every rock and out of every television set. Remote Viewing itself cannot correct your AOLs, cannot teach you right from wrong, and it cannot make you become a better person. Only you can do that. TRV is just a tool, and it remains in our lap to make ourselves better through the use of it. And there will always be some of us who will use it to gain power, control, and mastery over others. Humanity still has a long way to go, baby.
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Like a hammer does not a carpenter make, neither does Remote Viewing a sage make. Nor does the knowledge that a hammer exists make anyone an architect, though so many people are successful in deluding themselves that they are. Those who chose to walk the path of knowledge have a double duty to uphold. Not only must they watch their own footing, and challenge the beast they hold locked inside their own cage, but they must contend with the challenges faced by others, who are not even aware they are the ones locked inside the beast's cage, while the beast itself roams free.
Remote Viewing is only a tool, and the greater challenge ahead remains the human experience. Although Remote Viewing can give us unprecedented insights into life, it does not automatically bestow upon us wisdom. That remains something we must strive to learn and apply on our own.
In the end, what is more important in life? What is even more important than direct knowledge? Self worth, honesty, loyalty, and morality, perhaps? What of the souls who believe it is the other way around, or practice such a thing without even being cognizant of the reversal? Remote Viewing will never solve all problems, it can't. It was never positioned to do something as special as change humanity. Like the Buddhist monk who runs the hot dog stand in the park, who takes your money and never gives anything back except the tired phrase, "Change comes from within", our evolution must come from inside each and every one of ourselves - remote viewer and non viewer alike.
Although we have the beacon to guide us, the challenge remains, and I challenge every one of you to look inside and make sure you're not the one in the cage right now. It's hard, but someday that beast will get out, and you'll have to face it. The only thing that Remote Viewing can teach us is that we know so very little, and it will take a grand leap of spiritual progression to communicate that message to the masses. Until that day, keep the TRV torches burning, and remember that I still know more than you do.
P.S. Just kidding, I think.
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