Today, I completed my survey of English professors in the United States and Great Britain. In America, I eschewed, for the most part, the Christian colleges. However rational they seem, they are committed to the heresy of one physical life, then eternal heaven or eternal hell. In England, I eventually stopped looking at all the colleges established in the last 20-50 years. Strangely, there are a great number of them. You have colleges founded in 2002--and then you have universities founded in the Middle Ages!

The last university whose English faculty I looked through, was Oxford. You know how you have an idea in your mind of how people are, and then when you actually meet them, they are totally different? That didn't happen, in Oxford. They were exactly as I have imagined them to be all my life. I mean, the faces may have changed, but the characters are all still there.

Out of all those universities, I saved two profiles that I liked the best. I don't mean to be disparaging, here--I think they may have been clowning around for the camera, deliberately. But in any case, here they are...

I haven't counted my final total, but being as careful as I could to choose those professors whose areas of specialization intersected with my own study, I drafted individual e-mails to each. Sometimes I worked as long as half an hour on each letter. The result was that I received about 10 e-mails back. About half of them were terse one-liners. The remainder--with one exception, a fellow who had taken ayahuasca--didn't take me seriously. (Mr. Blown-Brain thought my study was superfluous, because it dealt with the individual self.) One of the respondees bantered about with me a little. I told him it was as though I was trying to give these professors a Lambergini, and they didn't want it. He came back thinking he was quite clever, asking, "Why should I believe anybody who says he's giving me a Lambergini? Who would do that?" I told him, "One who isn't believed, and wants to be believed." I further pointed out to him that the final paragraph of my letter had strings attached, such that "I get to keep the Lambergini, but he gets to drive it." Meaning, I insisted on full credit and citations if any of my findings were used.

It occurred to me earlier today, that even in jest, if someone beats you in a debate, you are supposed to concede in good sportsmanship. But he never did.

So I wrote roughly 200 e-mails, in which I tried to give these professors a discovery that could put them on the map for the next 500 years--and not a single one of them believed me. Even though I have evidence, and offered to share it. And, to some extent, did share it.

Clearly, somebody's crazy--them or me.

I got a similar reaction from the Edgar Allan Poe Facebook group which the moderator graciously permitted me to join. Stony silence, until one of them finally engaged me with comments and questions. Here, again, I won the debate, but there was no acknowledgement of same. In other words, for people in denial, debate and discussion are simply a formality. They get to win, regardless. If they can appear as though they won fair and square, fine. If not, they will claim it dishonestly. Either way, they are going to end up winning, at least in their own minds.

Frankly, I feel more sympathy for the Facebook group. These are fans who idolize Edgar Allan Poe. Nobody wants to be told their hero is a scoundrel. They like Poe's dark side as entertainment, but they don't want admit he was, in fact, not a very nice person.

So when I finished with the colleges (I saved nine e-mails, today, to send out tomorrow), I turned my attention back to the radio show hosts. I wrote to perhaps seven or eight, and this evening I got one positive response. So that will be one more radio interview.

The mixture of wisdom to ignorance looks about the same, to me, in big universities like Oxford, and among paranormal or New Age radio shows. Just different flavors.

I am feeling very discouraged this evening, even if I did get one more radio interview. I feel that I don't fit anywhere. I know that when I was Mathew in the 19th century, I felt the same way. Abby and I both felt that way--and we were the only ones in the world who really understood each other. Talk about a "stranger in a strange land"! We, Abby and I, were "peas in a pod"--but both of us were strangers in a strange land.

What I realized, today, is just how thick the layer of spiritual ignorance is covering our Western society, in year 2019. It was bad in the 19th century, but the "creeping shadow" has grown far worse. An interesting analogy came to me, today. I used to think that this layer of ignorance was, say, six inches thick. I thought I could bore through it with an eight-inch-long drill. That wasn't working, so I bought a two foot drill--and for the last few weeks, I have been boring continually. But I am beginning to suspect that the layer is actually 15 feet thick. Which means that even my two foot drill isn't nearly long enough. And back when I was trying to get through with my eight-inch drill, I was fooling myself.

Best regards,

Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.


Music opening this page: "Texas," by Eric Johnson,
from the album, "Up Close"



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