In spite of whatever the status of recreational cannabis use may be in your jurisdiction if you're like most people then you probably entertain some serious reservations about your own use of this substance. I myself have been an infrequent user since late in my teens and I still feel apprehensive about using it. It's a very deep bath of feeling you dip into when you let the little THC molecules into your system, but it's one of very few ways to really experience the cosmic things I've been telling you about here. You could think about them deeply but relatively superficially compared to how you could feel under the influence of this substance. You could really believe in the many transcendental things this story otherwise only teases you with. Feeling is believing in this case, as in so many others.
I've already mentioned how old Nyth had more or less dumped me by the end of 1986. I was evidently no longer at death's door from her point of view, but it was also because she could see that I had become exhausted from my prior psychotic behaviour. I had made a conscious effort to turn from my reckless ways, and redefine my goals and intentions. I began to adopt a studious life in Armidale which offered me shelter from the psychedelic storm, and I was taking my studies quite seriously. I felt like I had an interesting story to tell if only I could acquire the logical and literary skills needed to tell it.
You may have reasonably expected, as I did, that my problems were at last behind me, but the most difficult years of my life were only just about to develop. During the winter of 1985 I had a vision of Australia where the suburbs and villages were continuous across the breadth of this sunburnt country, all the way to the foot of Uluru and beyond it to the shores of Western Australia. It was a reflection of the fond reverence I had been feeling for the people and cultures of India, but it never occurred to me to compare their population with the meagre numbers seen at home until I had this vision. It was a vision of a vast future global population. My sneaky ghost had evidently set a trap for me. The development of my affection for India was a ruse whose purpose was to make clear to me that global human numbers had at last become a problem.
I was so stricken with awe by this vision that population became an obsession for me, and later that year I was tempted to make a slight tactical error regarding my relationship with my family. I had concluded that families were ultimately responsible for the multiplication of human numbers, and so I began to plan a withdrawal from involvement with my own family. This was a couple of years after my psychiatric diagnosis, so I knew I would get nowhere by confronting them directly. I was already far enough away from them to minimise much in the way of contact with them, and so I determined to simply miss the 1985 Christmas family reunion.
With the exception of two years of reconciliation in the mid nineties, this was just the start of fifteen years of virtual estrangement from my family, during which time an intense mental conflict erupted between me and my mother. She was evidently furious with my attempt to usurp her parental authority, and I wasn't about to surrender my belief that the family was fundamentally flawed in the age of an impending ecological disaster. On the contrary, our ordeal proved to be singularly instructive in the context of my telepathic investigations, but more importantly in the context of solving the stubborn riddle of why children are so unable to successfully compete with a parent who is determined to be domineering.
It's not surprising to suggest that a domineering parent will successfully dominate young children by manipulating their fear. It is also not surprising, at least for those parents who habitually resort to it, to suggest that parents will successfully manipulate their adult children by dominating their sexuality. It's not a morally defensible thing to do by any means, but if money and social status are of no value to the child then what other implement of control can a determined mother use in her struggle with conflicting children. A domineering parent knows that in this particular battle the squirming child is exquisitely defenceless. My mother would not have been alone when she embarked on this endeavour which is ironic for one who struggled to prove the case for telepathy because this endeavour depends entirely on being able to control the child's mind.
It was eighteen months before my mother seemed to conclude that my absence from Christmas had become a recurring intention for me because she and my father wrote to me in the winter of 1987 about their plan to visit me in Armidale. It was a very simple visit. I remember they stayed overnight in a motel, so we would have shared an evening meal among other social niceties, but in hind sight I have to conclude that her only intention was to picture my domestic situation in her mind so that she could go home and later find me in her thoughts and dreaming. I remember the winter of 1987 as a particularly painful turning point in my life because that was when my mother became an inescapable intrusion in my mind which, I'm sure you will greatly appreciate, was just infuriating.
Early in 1999 I moved to Western Australia in order to get as far away from her as possible, without actually leaving the country, which solved one crucial feature of our relationship. I was so far from her, or perhaps it was because she was so unable to visualize my domestic situation that I was finally able to hide from her thinking about me.
She retained a residual ability to make me suffer, but when, in September of 2001, the attack on the World Trade Centre captivated the attention of virtually everyone on this planet, including my mother, the last vestiges of pain departed from me. She was pretty old by this time and probably couldn't be bothered trying to mentally re-captivate me. I saw her telepathically several months later expressing the somewhat desperate wish for me to "Please contact the family," which I dutifully did, and I saw the entire family in person the following Christmas. My mother died in November of the following year before our next Christmas reunion could bring us together again, so I feel lucky that we were able to solve our little conflict before such opportunities were taken from us forever.
The two years of reconciliation I mentioned were '94 and '95. They were marked by much relief, with the occasional spike of conflict between us, but the peace came to an abrupt end early in 1996 after I got a letter of commendation from the head of the Philosophy Department at UNE. I was doing well with my studies and I foolishly showed the letter to my mother who seemed to take a particularly envious view of the matter. It wasn't long before the conflict resumed, but this time the pain was so intense that I abandoned my studies entirely. Nevertheless, the two years of relative peace assured me that peace was possible so I was determined to find a way to make it work for me.
In October of 1997, during the time I spent on the farm with the cows, I discovered something which unexpectedly proved to be very useful. I had been vaguely aware for many years, as were my siblings for that matter, that there was a pattern to the spacing of our birthdays, but it wasn't until this fateful day on the farm that I sat down with a calculator and drew a formal diagram of the particulars. Without intending to reference the zodiac the diagram consisted of a circle representing the Earth's orbit around the sun with our birthdays located at intervals on the circumference of this circle. Since birth dates are a matter of public record I hope my siblings won't mind if I publish their particulars here so that any interested parties can verify the appearance of the diagram for themselves.
My elder brother James has his birthday on the 1st of April, my sister Margaret Elizabeth has her birthday on the 13th of June, I have my birthday on the 7th of April and my younger brother Peter has his on the 26th of January. I'll also mention my father's birthday on the 6th of October because his birthday is a crucial factor in the pattern, and I'll mention my mother's birthday, the 18th of March, although hers is of little significance in this context, notwithstanding her role in the reproductive creation of this pattern.
Now, you won't need to formally draw the diagram in order to quickly see that my birthday is directly opposite my father's birthday. You'll also quickly see that my sister's birthday and my younger brother's birthday are virtually equidistant from mine, 67 days in the case of my sister's day, and 71 days in the case of my brother. Drawing a couple of lines between these days results in a very nearly right-angled crucifix, and if one concedes a couple of days in the direction of my elder brother's birthday then the perpendicular precision of the vertices is nearly perfect in every way. In the context of my conflict with my mother I felt that at last I had evidence of her intention to secretly manipulate me.
As if the deliberate spacing of our birthdays was not enough to satisfy my mother's religious ambitions she also cast our names in a religious theme beginning with a consideration of my father's name. My father's name was John Charles, so his initials were J.C. which he shares with Jesus Christ. My elder brother's name is James who was the brother of Jesus in New Testament scripture, my sister was named after the princesses of England about a year after Princess Elizabeth was crowned and became the Supreme Governor of the Church of England. My name, Michael, reflects my mother's apocalyptic vision, Michael was the archangel in New Testament scripture, and Peter was the rock upon which the early church was founded.
A further coincidence which aroused my suspicions back in October of '97 concerns the proximity of my birthday to the Christian festival of Easter. The festival of Easter begins the cycling of the Christian Church year, so that calculating the day on which Easter Sunday falls is crucial for establishing the timing of various other feasts. The calculation is made on the basis of lunar phenomena, and is defined as the first Sunday following the first full moon, following the vernal equinox traditionally defined as March 21st. Therefore the range of possible dates on which Easter Sunday may fall extends from March 22nd through to April 25th, an interval of some thirty four days.
Since the day on which Easter Sunday falls over the course of ages is virtually random, the median date within the range becomes a valid summary of the likely day. This date is midnight on the 8th of April which makes midnight on the 6th of April the median date for Good Friday, the day on which Jesus climbed Golgotha. It is thus directly opposite my father's birthday on the 6th of October, and exactly the date on which I celebrate my birthday. I can't say how you view the coincidence of so many curious factors, but in my view back in the late nineties it was very disturbing indeed.
The draft of perception I gleaned from the drawing of this diagram proved to be both a blessing and a curse. On first view it promised to equip me with much needed leverage in the battle with my mother, but in the long run it only made me feel all the more haunted, hunted by brutal elemental forces which had neither precision or finesse. I may have been surrounded by a magnificent country landscape, yet I was caught between the steel pincers of a trap. I grieved for the helpless predicament I saw among the cows but I had my own problems to deal with, and so I turned to the restless country lanes at night where I could at least exhaust my fear so that I could sleep in careless oblivion.
Even if my mother knew nothing about the names and dates, which is possible since nothing was said about them by either of my parents before they died, I still have to believe that some agent of destiny has been messing with me throughout my entire life. I have to believe that the sort of precision seen occurring among the names and birthdays of members of my family can't be coincidental, in spite of how innocent my parents may have been. The coincidental emergence of the host model of Earth and its implicit regression, and the odd artefacts observed within my family assume a sinister appearance in view of the grief I was suffering at this time. But these coincidences had to serve a purpose beyond merely giving me a meagre advantage in my struggle with my mother, and of which at the time I was only vaguely aware.
I had a vague ambition to write quite early in the piece. As early as May of 1984 when I was awarded a disability pension I was determined to do something about achieving this goal. But actually sitting down and typing words on a piece of paper was another matter entirely, and for a long time I doggedly believed that I was incapable of performing this task. For a long time I would bargain with those who had an interest in seeing the project begun in terms of a promise that I would commission a ghost writer to do the work for me if they would be so kind as to let me win the lottery. But, as fate would have it, it was in November of 1997 that I found myself in a position where the only way out of my problems was to begin writing about them, and the first pages I wrote were a submission to a solicitor regarding the pattern among our birthdays.
As it happened I never sought the services of a solicitor because one thing led to another, and before long I had satisfied those interested parties who had been accompanying me all these years. Evidently, all they wanted was for me to tell the host model story which became a priority for me, and which was very important to them. It is now March of 2019, and I have been relieved of the responsibility for telling this story. I am now fairly old and I'm satisfied with my attempt to fulfil my destiny.
Whether or not you accept the validity of the host model is entirely up to you, but if you do accept it, I don't know how you can resist being affected by it, and in a very profound way indeed. You may be able to ignore the inference that the planet is a living organism not unlike ourselves in many ways, but surely the shape of Italy will colour your thinking for a very long time indeed.
In spite of whatever your beliefs may be I'm sure you will agree that the emergence of the host model occurs at a time when we are faced with some very difficult choices. At such times it is natural for us to seek the counsel of a being who is greater than us, but whose identity the religious institutions of the world have largely failed to illuminate. They rely on the faith of individuals and their modelling of ideals but have failed to persuade ardent sceptics when, much to the contrary, the host model could be persuading atheists to believe in God.
With the emergence of the host model we meet each other at the dawn of a new age where the potential for sharing our humanity with the ancestral cosmos has never been greater. Let's hope that we can come to our senses and stop destroying this planet, and recognise the continuity which joins the different scales of our existence.