It is Christmas morning, and my birthday, and at age 65, I find myself perhaps more isolated than I have ever been. I have recently shared some of my claims and discoveries on Facebook, and the few friends I have (I purged Facebook of all but people I know personally, with a few exceptions) have almost entirely ignored me. One or two have the courage to "like" a post; most maintain a stoney silence.
So this morning, I thought I'd break with policy, and address a few meta-issues. I have a radio interview coming up Friday (it will be pre-taped); I'll announce when it goes live. But this Facebook reception brings up some points in stark relief. If I get this reaction from supposed friends, what can I expect from the public at large? I tell them I have proof that in the 19th century, as Mathew Franklin Whittier, I was the real author of "The Raven," not Edgar Allan Poe.
In order for someone to react like that, they have to assume one of two things: 1) the fellow is perpetrating a hoax, or 2) he's gone mad, and his "results" are only magical thinking.
So the urge is to try to force the evidence on them. But what would be the result of that?
If you should succeed, I think the result would be that you would scare them, and they would pull away from you as a freak.
Many lifetimes back, I have a hunch that, as a Celtic priest, I had developed some powers of telekenesis. Not being able to resist displaying them, I was killed.
Even those child prodigies who can paint like a master, or play classical music at a very high level, are perceived as freaks. They are celebrated, and they have a career ready-made for them--but I think they are also a little bit feared. Still, their abilities can't be ignored.
Some of the children studied by Dr. Ian Stevenson, who not only remembered but could prove a recent past life in another village, were punished by their own parents. They would be spun around and around to banish the evil spirit from them, or whatever the rationale was.
Meanwhile, I am increasingly in touch with the anger and frustration I feel at not being believed. Before I could definitely prove Mathew Franklin Whittier's authorship of "The Raven," I always felt, "Well, maybe I'm wrong, and I can't blame anyone else for being skeptical about it, as well." But now that I have the evidence, I can invoke no such excuse. One always believes, in the back of one's mind--as one has been taught in this society--that were one to invent something, or achieve something great, one would be recognized and rewarded. In actual fact, that isn't always the case. If it is too significant a discovery, it is going to be ignored by most, and a few will attempt to steal it.
I am a sane, intelligent, rational person with a long-time commitment to strict honesty. I have a master's degree in counseling, which is at least some indication of probable sanity, as well as being the minimum credentials necessary to be taken seriously in academia. I know how to conduct rigorous research, given that I am self-taught and have no funding. I have the evidence, presented in two books and carefully archived, both digitally and physically. My work proves, to a reasonable degree of certainty, both the past-life claim, and quite a number of misattributed literary works. Four of those claims involve famous authors; but there are another 10 or so besides the famous ones.
These results are noteworthy enough, that they should guarantee me a place at the table, meaning, book sales, radio interviews, and conventions. Or is the New Age industry like the music industry, such that if you can't finagle air time, no matter how good you are, you can't get anywhere?
I will never indulge in hype, even if I could afford a marketing campaign. I am here; I will be on one radio program; my website is easily discovered, along with my documentary and my books. I am one or two clicks away from anyone on the planet with internet access. My website gets, now, about 300 unique visits per day, and my books are listed at the top of the home page, so if you don't go to back pages, you automatically see them. I don't know how many people have considered buying my sequel, "Mathew Franklin Whittier in his own world" at its Amazon listing, but on my Selz.com online store, I can give you the stats of people who looked, but didn't buy, since I first made it available there some months ago: 42 people have looked at the epub format version; 41 the Kindle version; and 25 the pdf, for a total of 108 views, with no sales.
This reminds me of when I was in a high school civics class, held in an auditorium, and they tried out an ESP test on the class. I got an especially low score, and I was disappointed. I didn't know, at that time, that a low score could also be statistically significant. Or, it reminds me of my sales manager for my documentary, "In Another Life," who remarked that a bunch of kids who get together over the weekends to make a horror movie, sell more copies of it than I was selling of my film.
There is something wrong with this picture. I would consider failure to be selling, say, only a hundred copies. Being skunked is beyond chance. I am scaring people away, perhaps--something certainly is. It's not the price, it's not that it's an e-book, it's not the length (which isn't indicated), it's not the slightly unprofessional look of my cover artwork or the (free) online store. Those factors might be expected to dampen sales, but they can't cause zero sales.
This isn't really the most important part of my study. But I have proven that in a past life, I was the co-author of one misattributed world classic, and the author of another. This should be enough. I should, logically, be on the podium along with the various New Age and conspiracy theorists that I have been watching on YouTube. I should be on "Coast-to-Coast"--I should have been invited to an interview with Bob Olson (whose assistant kindly dismissed me recently). Dr. Jim Tucker, who I helped put on the map with a gratis video interview in 2007 that's still being viewed online, today, should have taken my case seriously instead of blithely dismissing it.
That these things aren't happening, is like the negative ESP result--it's more extreme than it logically should be. Somebody should be taking me seriously. I should be able to at least fill a small auditorium, out of the entire world.
And I'm not.
So I have my own theories as to why this is. My best theory is that people's subconscious mind doesn't object to fanciful and bogus presentations, because it knows he or she can suspend disbelief and take it as a joyride. But when it senses a genuine presentation, it knows that this is going to change the person's world forever. And the subconscious mind protects one from the threat of radical change. In other words, consciously, you tell yourself this is bogus--but your subconscious mind recognizes that it's genuine. It senses truth--but truth is not the friend of those immersed, knowingly or unknowingly, in falsehood. Truth is only the friend of those who have fallen desperately in love with it--not those who pretend, to themselves, to have done so.
This is why I recently showed you three or four readers the photograph of man-made debris on the surface of Mars. That Mars once held a civilzation, which appears to have destroyed itself with a cataclysm of some kind (probably, nuclear), is quite obvious. The mainstream culture still won't acknowledge it, but there are symposia, and YouTube videos, and so-on.
My work doesn't even have a room full of people acknowledging it. That may suggest that it is that much more powerful, if we apply a kind of reverse logic to the situation. The more powerful the discovery, the fewer people take it seriously. Here's the thing. If I was a nutcase, and had a wild, clearly implausible theory, I would have a roomful of followers. I would have been on "Coast-to-Coast" with my tin hat on. But that I am sitting here, today, on my 65th birthday, having proven the things mentioned, above, with only one radio interview scheduled and not even my Facebook friends taking me seriously, no less the public, suggests something else is going on.
Merry Christmas! The present is there, if you want to pick it up.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
Music opening this page: "Galileo," by It's A Beautiful Day,
from the album, "Marrying Maiden