Aliens Vs. Rewilding
Poseur Hipster Douchebag or Inner-Dimensional Reptilian Shape-Shifter?
I’ve had a couple people ask me lately if I “believe in aliens”. This subject used to fascinate me as a child. I read all about UFO’s, exhausting the school library and moving onto the public library. I even spotted a few of them hovering above my elementary school. I had a passion for anything paranormal. Later in life that translated more to the spiritual side and towards animism. These days I hardly think about aliens, so when someone asked me if I believed in them I had to think about it for a second.
I can only answer this question with another question, “What do you mean by aliens?” People want to know if I believe that “life exists on other planets”. This makes no sense to me because I believe that planets themselves have life. On an atomic level, we all come from the same building blocks. What separates one atom from another? What makes one collection of atoms “alive” and another not? That’s all just bullshit science jargon to me. I could care less about atomic levels or quantum physics. I can extend my empathetic sense to include “inanimate” objects in space. Or even, to space itself.
Do I believe in “little green men”? No. Pleiadian inner-dimensional reptilian travelers? No. The Grays? No. Venutian Light Beings? No. What do I think about Area 51? I think the military has a top secret base there, where they experiment with aircraft. What do I think about the Roswell incident? I think some pilots crashed an experimental aircraft. How do I explain all of the UFO sightings? I’ve seen lights in the sky before. I’ve also seen similar lights in Sweat Lodges. Something exists out there that makes those lights appear. I might call them spirits before I would call them aliens. “Aliens” to me mean little green men or the Grays. But even the term “spirits” seems to carry a lot of baggage.
I think that how we define “life” as civilized humans, probably exists somewhere out there in the infinite universe of time, space and dimensions. But I don’t think that any industrialized humanoids could survive an industrial economy like ours long enough to get off of their planet. It looks very culturally narcissistic to me, part of the myth of progress, that all lifeforms quest for industrialized civilization. Which leads me to my next point: Alien mythology stems from people who have no localized mythology. No stories that connect us to our place. We live as aliens to our own landbases searching for meaning in the stars rather than right where we stand. Always looking out to the lands that we have yet to conquer and bring “progress” to rather than seeing the magic and spirit of the place that we live. It makes me sick. Fuck aliens. Aliens and robots.