Wednesday, 20 June 2007

MORPHIC RESONANCE


I'm sitting on the balcony outside the Atlas Lounge in Brighton looking down Norfolk Terrace towards a light pastel-purple sea. A soft spectrum rises up through rose-pink and light grey-gold up into a lavender-blue evening sky, this glowing flush of colour wreathing as a halo the skyline of cream Regency architecture, now lit orange-gold on the western faces. A seagull answers a call in its bones by choosing a chimney pot as a perch, and stands statue-still like the benu bird, while large flocks of starlings take their cues and make their wheeling way on mass to roosting places on the piers. I muse upon how this location-specific behaviour must in some sense be learnt, but wonder how much is passed on directly, and how much is due to a species resonance - behavioural patterns imprinted into a morphogenic field? What, I think to myself, are we to make of butterflies on long migratory routes which choose the same particular trees to stop in on the way that their parents did, even though this new generation has never been anywhere near these trees before? I wonder too if we should be thinking of the blue tits who more rapidly learnt how to open milk bottle tops even though the time elapsed during which milk was not delivered was longer than the lifespan of that bird. Would Brighton's starlings after a similar gap in time without piers return in the same way to replacements without any direct tuition?

People, too, flock to Brighton. Are they also dancing through the patterns of those sea-seekers who came before filling up the carriages of steam-trains with hats, brolleys and large moustaches? Can these fields be perceived consciously too, appreciated? Can we, with the eye that is mind, read the myths of places, rising out of the particular and the transient into a resonance more collective and enduring, simultaneously grounding ourselves into a deeper, richer strata of human perception?

Is this why pilramage routes - holy journeys along ancient paths past sacred sites - form so ubiquitous a part of world-wide tradition? The Greater Greek Mysteries opened with a lengthy procession along a sacred way from Athens to Eleusis past various sites associated with the myth of Demeter and Persephone - this was a key part of the initiation of candidates. The initiation into the Australian Dreamtime sight by walking the old Songlines - again past sites connected since time immemorial with particular stories - is remarkably similar, a similarity so striking that it speaks of some real transpersonal, collective phenomenon of resonance at the core of these traditions. Further support of more empiracle nature is available.


Although the idea of morphic fields was popularized by Rupert Sheldrake, it was around for some time before Sheldrake’s first book on the subject, A New Science of Life, was published. Sheldrake himself has an impressive background in science. A holder of a PhD in biochemistry, he has been a director of studies in biochemistry and cell biology at Cambridge University, a research fellow of the Royal Society, and a Knox fellow at Harvard University.

Something that initially fascinated Sheldrake was morphogenesis - how biological structures grow into their particular forms. Certain mysterious phenomena drew his attention. If a sea urchin is cut up into parts at an early stage, each part will still give rise to a perfectly formed sea urchin. Yet more surprising results can be found in experiments that I find difficult to approve of ethically, but have a massive bearing on the morphogenesis question. Muscles, removed from lab mice, put through a mincer and then replaced in their original sites, have regained their previous usefulness. An entire sponge can be broken into its constituent cells, and put through a sieve, and these can then come together and reform into a single sponge organism. How do the cells know where they are in the whole? Newts that have had the lenses surgically removed from their eyes have been able to regenerate them and see again.

The theory of Formative Causation states that, as a general principle of nature, once a pattern has manifest, it becomes easier to manifest again. It proposes therefore that the fields responsible for organizing morphogenesis are non-physical, in the sense that they transcend space and endure unendingly over time.

An area where we see related phenomena is where details of form or behavior leap between the branches of the evolutionary tree. In fact, flight is an example, having evolved separately in insects, birds, mammals and even reptiles, such as the flying lizard, which literally leaps between branches while gliding on wings that have evolved into its form. But there are more specific examples.

The inside front cover of the March 1994 issue of BioScience showed five butterflies, each of which were paired with a virtually identical butterfly in terms of shape, design and colours. But in fact the two butterflies in each pair were different species, and yet there is no obvious evolutionary advantage to mimicry in these instances. (Miller, Julie Ann; BioScience, inside front cover, March 1994.) Another example of this kind of ‘convergent evolution’ is the similarity of the North American Meadowlarks and the African Yellow-throated Longclaw, birds which are again virtually identical but actually different species.

Another mystery that does not find a suitable answer in DNA programming is the way that the offspring of various animals make huge journeys that their ancestors have made but which they have never made before, using landmarks that they have never seen before. There is that example a type of butterfly that does this, the swarm choosing particular trees to group in year after year even though each time the swarm is made up entirely of individuals who have never made the journey before. Likewise when a colony of blind termites work together to build a mound including complex internal architecture, Sheldrake suggests that perhaps field effects are at work.


According to the theory, the morphic field of the organism contains a blueprint, and the morphogenesis is shaped and directed by this pattern. The theory further states that repetition of a pattern will strengthen its morphic field, making it easier for that pattern to be repeated again. This is shown by another type of experiment entirely.

A series of experiments carried out by W. McDougall at Harvard University in 1920 produced some surprising results. Laboratory rats were placed in a chamber with two exits, one brightly lit which would give a non-fatal electric shock. The other exit was unlit, and was the way out. As successive generations of rats were put in the chamber, increasing numbers chose the correct exit in their first test. McDougal’s experiments went on for fifteen years. While the first generation had to take on average two hundred goes before they learned which way to go, the last generation, fifteen years later, took on average only twenty goes. At this stage the conclusion was that the ability was passed on genetically. However, this conclusion was to change.
Similar experiments in the Universities of Edinburgh and Melbourne were carried out, and they showed that laboratory rats all over the world had become better at knowing which exit to take. These experiments were carried out because, naturally, scientists wanted to see if McDougal’s results were repeatable. It was found that they were - again the rats of later batches learned with increasing ease - but something else also became apparent. The increased ability to learn did not require a direct family relation. All the rats were learning more quickly, even if taken from stock that had never been involved in the experiment. The ability had leapt across the family tree by resonance rather than genetic inheritance.

There are other cases of behavioral patterns passing between members of the same species without physical contact. A famous example is not a scientific experiment but a relevant observation none the less, namely that of the blue tits pecking their way into milk bottles, with the skill spreading with great speed across Europe. Milk was not delivered during WWII, for a period longer than the life span of blue tits. But once it was delivered again the pattern quickly arose again and spread even more quickly than the first time.
Another example is described in Sheldrake’s book (The Presence of the Past 1988). In 1923, Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov trained mice to run to a feeding place when an electric bell was rung. The first generation required an average of 300 trials to learn, the second 100, the third 30, and the fourth 10. Pavlov was then surprised when a new group of mice from a different unrelated stock seemed to have a head start. Sheldrake, however, is not surprised. "Subsequent mice would be influenced by morphic resonance from those in the first experiment," he says.

What we are most interested in here is the affect of morphic resonance on human thoughts, as demonstrated by experiments showing that it becomes easier to learn what other people have already learned. One of the simplest examples is that of crosswords, which according to Sheldrake’s theory should become easier and easier as more people solve them. Sheldrake tells us that an experiment to test this was carried out on students in Nottingham, with positive results.

Another experiment carried out to test the effects of morphic resonance on human learning was carried out by Dr. Arden Mahlberg of Madison, Wisconsin. It involved the participants learning two codes, one that was the real morse code, and one that was a similar code with the dots and dashes given to the letters of the alphabet in a different way. The subjects learned the real morse code more easily.

A well-known example of something similar quoted by Sheldrake is where Western children were given three Japanese Hai Kus to learn, one that was traditional, one that was newly invented, and one that was nonsense. The traditional one was learnt quicker and more easily than the other two. Here we begin to see how his theories must be considered by anthropology when examining cultural continuity.

But perhaps the most relevant example to our theme here is the experiment carried out using picture puzzles. These were apparently jumbled selections of black blobs which, upon closer inspection, have images concealed in them. These are rather like ink blot tests except that there is a genuine non-random picture deliberately hidden amongst the blobs. On 31st August 1983 such a pictorial puzzle was given to a group of volunteers and then the puzzle and its answer were displayed on national television. Later, a different group of volunteers, who had not seen the TV show nor the original test subjects, turned out to have a 76% higher success rate at solving the puzzle. This is an extremely significant result. It was not a factor of chance or more intelligent participants, because the groups involved were large, involving several thousand people from different parts of the world.

A similar experiment was done in 1984 again on British television. Again, in Western Europe, there were significant results. What Sheldrake found puzzling was that in North America people did not find it easier to pick out the picture whose fields had been imprinted by the eight million British viewers. In South Africa the results were more like those in Western Europe, except that the sample size was not particularly large, which makes those particular results less significant as a matter of course. This is interesting because the people in North America and in Western Europe should be of similar genetic stock. It suggests that other factorts - culture? location? national identity? - have more of an effect than racial background. In other words someone of, say, Indian stock who has been born and brought up in England with English friends and surrounded by English culture, and who, perhaps most importantly, considers themselves English, quite possibly has more of a resonant connection with the collective English field, than with that of India. Interest in their ancestral heritage could trigger a different resonance.

Some effect is definitely present. And the question here is, if an image flashed up briefly on television can develop a higher morphic field potential, what happens to an image that is contemplated at great length generation after generation after generation? The constellation figures are not dissimilar to these picture puzzles. A selection of stars, mainly the brightest ones, are joined together like join the dots patterns, and conceived of as animal shapes. The hypothesis suggested here is that the constellation figures must be very richly imprinted, and that this could explain the immense antiquity of many of the figures. Subsequent generations find it easier to see them in this way. Not that the tradition is not also passed on directly, but this is facilitated by the high morphic field potential. People sense this resonance, which accounts for the success of the tradition. The further suggestion is that this ancestral imprint, being a connection across time, is very nourishing, that in fact the richness of the imprint manifests in our perceptions as beauty, as a sense of the numinous, of other ages being present now, a trancesion of the chaos of transience. It becomes clearer why assuming the static, traditional poses of yoga can be such an effective form of meditation.

This then would seem to be why Mysteries based on an ekphrasis of works of art that are themselves based on mythologised maps of the constellations were used for a shammanic initiation into what we can call the ancestral Dreamtime, whatever word they may have used to denote this. For if morphic resonance is a real phenomenon, as the weight of evidence discussed here suggests, then the Dreamtime has objective transpersonal existence. In other words, we don’t need to look to the nature of humans or to some direct contact to account for the fact that both the Australian Aborigines and the proto-Indo-European Magdalenians used art to access a Dreamtime - the fact is that these Dreamtimes actually exist, and they perceived them, they became aware of the resonance. Accepting this is an enormous relief, for everything falls so easily into place.

Sheldrake has a chapter The Fields of Human Societies and Cultures in which he writes:

‘Such fields structure human language, thought, customs, culture, and society and they organize the interrelations of the component parts. They are stabilized by self-resonance from a society’s own past and by morphic resonance from similar societies.’

He follows this chapter with Myths, Rituals and the Influence of Tradition. Here he writes that the theory of Formative Causation ‘offers a potentially more fruitful approach to the understanding of cultural inheritance, and the evolution of cultural habits…the interpretation of [myths, rituals, traditions and initiations] does not so much contradict conventional structural interpretations as go beyond them. It could even be regarded as a kind of evolutionary structuralism.’

Sheldrake himself comments on the Australian Aboriginal mythology. He goes over the nature of the mythologies of the Northern Aranda peoples of Central Australia, where by all occupations originated with the totemic ancestors. So the sons of the gurra are always engaged on the same quest as their father, the ancestor of hunting and eating bandicoots. Another ancestor set in motion the art of gathering wild plums, another is the ancestor of spearing fish. He quotes Levi-Strauss commenting on the way that the people play out patterns set in place by these Dreamtime ancestors, and then he writes: ‘This sounds very like a description of morphic resonance, through which patterns of activity are repeated again and again, stabilized by this resonance from all similar past patterns, right back to the time each morphic field first came into being.’

There has been a tendency to assume that the Australian Aborigines have maintained their culture for a very long time because it didn’t occur to them to try anything else. But this ignores the fact that they actually have a philosophy that tells them about the benefits of continuity. To enter into perception of the Australian Aboriginal Dreaming is to come in contact with the accumulation of over 40,000 years of ancestral perception, resonant with the permanent forms of the landscape. It is to discover something unspeakably rich, something that elevates the totemite out of mundane everyday time. It removes all existential angst about the apparent transience of things, because it literally transcends space and time to join the individual to the ancestors.
But do they really have a philosophy underpinning this? The answer appears to be a definite yes. This can be seen from an understanding of the aboriginal word kurunba. James Cowan, quoted by Devereux in Symbolic Landscapes, explains that ‘Kurunba…is a metaphysical expression denoting the presence of a cultural layer within the landform itself that has been inspired by mythological contact with the Dreaming…in other words, the landform has become iconic in essence, fulfilling a role of containment, not only of physical attributes…of meta-physical significations. It is this quality that gives a landmark its inherent Form over and above that of its mere physical presence.’

What is more, totemic places where the aborigines have for millennia conducted ceremonies are known by them as ‘increase centres’. This is a scientific term. The places are used for a two-fold purpose. Here, because of the tradition, it is easy for the people to enter the Dreamtime. But they also conduct the ceremonies here with the aim of invigorating the totem ancestor of that place. (Devereux, Symbolic Landscapes, p.10). Thus the kurunba, the morphic field, is increased as more and more people visit the site and see it in this way, and perform the same ceremonies. Kurunba is thus like wine from a magical chalice that becomes fuller the more we drink from it. The name ‘increase centre’ is thus in accordance with morphic field theory.

Sheldrake himself comments on something similar. ‘Why is the effectiveness of rituals so universally believed to depend on their close similarity to the way they have been done before? Why should this similarity of ritual forms in the present to those of the past be regarded as essential to establishing a connection with the ancestors?’ The idea of morphic resonance suggests a natural answer. Through morphic resonance, sacred ceremony, from the great procession along the sacred way to Eleusis to the Aborginal songlines to eating your soup with a rounded spoon dipped far edge-first and moving away from you - really can bring the past into the present. An apology for formality.
Though not mentioned by Sheldrake, the ancient Vedic text from India known as the Rig Veda makes a particularly explicit reference to this:

‘The Brhati metre resonated in the voice of Brhaspati [etc] That was the model for the human sages, our fathers, when the primeval sacrifice was born. With the eye that is mind, in thought I see those who were the first to offer this sacrifice. The ritual repetitions harmonized with the chants and with the metres, the seven divine sages harmonized with the original models. When the wise men looked back along the path of those who went before, they took up the reins like charioteers.’

In fact Morphic Fields exist in Hindu thought under the name of Akasha, the element of the Universe that records all things eternally, and one with an open third eye can read the Akashic Records.

Now we can see why entrance into the Dreamtime is dependant upon walking particular Songlines, paths that have been walked for generations, and singing the same songs at particular places, and maintaining the same traditions about what simulacra are to be seen in the landscape, and what stories are associated with them.

The theory of Morphic Resonance also has its counterpart in the ancient traditions of the Mediterranean Old World. In the Hermetica, Hermes tells us:

‘Every living thing has its own unique Form…. This Form is appropriate to its species, yet each is individual. The human race, for example, shares a common universal Form by which we know that a man is a man….Nature has an assistant called Memory, which ensures that Nature creates individual forms that are copies of the primal universal Forms.’

Hermes associates these Universal Forms with the fixed constellations of the Zodiac. The concept of Forms, also called Ideas, is found in the philosophical interpretation made by Plato upon the teachings of Socrates. He talked of another realm, beyond the physical, where these blueprints exist objectively as collective, universal ideas, in the Universal Mind of which we are a part. He too, in Timaeus, made the same connection between the Forms and the constellations of the Zodiac. The association seems to derive from the universality and stability of the constellations as seen from different places on the Earth. When we look up at, say, Taurus, we are looking at basically the same star pattern our ancestors looked at 18,000 years ago. This is why the mythologized star-patterns are keys to connection with our ancestors.

Rupert Sheldrake believes that it is not just behavioral patterns that work in this way, but also the forms of biological organisms. For him the DNA is a key with which to access the blueprint of a biological form, and that blueprint is held in morphic, or in this case more specifically morphogenic fields. They are responsible, he says, for morphogenesis - the process by which cells grow into an organism of a particular shape.

The comparison with the words from the Hermetica is pretty much exact. There we find that Nature uses Memory to ensure that creatures grow in accordance with the Universal Form of their species, which exists objectively in the Realm of Ideas. Now we consider that the morphogenesis of form is made possible by blueprints held in non-physical morphic fields. It’s clearly the same thing. The only difference is that in the new conception there is greater emphasis on the way that these forms can themselves evolve.

There are many other examples we could give of support for the theory, but my favorite involves the marsupial mammals of Australia. From a common mammalian ancestor, Old World and Australian mammals went off in different directions. And yet in many cases they took the same directions, but on different branches of the evolutionary tree. There are marsupial wolves, marsupial flying squirrels, marsupial cats, even marsupial anteaters! What on Earth is going on here? If approached without the morphic resonance argument, the idea that morphogenetic fields that are a collection of environmental forces alone could produce similar forms has to be stretched beyond the limits of common sense. Why would this lead to the familiar stabilized types: species? What set of environmental factors could independently produce wolves and cats amongst the placental and marsupial mammals as the result of random mutations? In his book The Presence of the Past, highly qualified biologist Sheldrake includes pictures of various marsupial and placental twins, reproduced here. We see the flying squirrels, the jerboas, the moles and the wolves. Another seemingly bizarre fact is that porcupines have evolved both in the Old World and in South America. Sheldrake asks: ‘What are…the ‘principles’ of porcupines?’ The porcupine idea is a neat one, the design is good, but how could it arise and survive twice independently by a random mutation? Those who cling to the sinking ship of Old Darwinism try to claim that the independent parallel evolution of these creatures in Australia and elsewhere is the result simply of similar environmental factors. But that is a weak contention. There are chimpanzees on the North and South sides of the Congo that are, despite being the same creature, carnivorous hunting pack animals on one side of the river, and peaceful vegetarians on the other. The form of an animal and the niche which it occupies are not so tied together as the environmental factor camp would like. We are to imagine that the marsupial anteater evolved simply because their was niche to fill and that was the only way to fill it. However, camels were introduced by humans into Australia, and they have gone wild, and are doing nicely. If the niche was there, if the environmental factors were right, how come indigenous camels didn’t evolve to make the most of it? A niche is not necessarily always snapped up in the way the environmental factor camp imply, and nor is there only one way to snap it up. An elephant has evolved a long trunk and a giraffe a long neck, and both of them use these to reach leaves high up in trees. Another creature might have evolved a long neck, but it wouldn’t necessarily be a giraffe. The sloath, the gorilla and the koala also eat leaves from high up in trees by climbing up to get them, but even they are species strongly distinct from each other. The koala is more like a bear in form, yet the grizzly bear hunts and fishes, which koalas don’t do. Alligators and herons and king fishers also fish, yet even the heron and king fisher, despite both being birds, do it in different ways. The king fisher does it more like a pelican, but looks very different. Similar creatures of the same type live in very different environments. The panda lives in a very different environment from the polar bear. Seals share the diet and environment of polar bears, but don’t look anything like them. So why should differentiated recognizable species have evolved amongst the marsupials in parallel with their placental twins? Wolves and wild cats live similar lives in similar environments hunting similar prey. So why didn’t something evolve in Australia that was a bit catlike and a bit doglike, whilst in fact being neither, rather than what has actually evolved, which is something that is so obviously similar to the wolf in particular and cats in particular? Why do particular species blueprints dominate the evolutionary process?

The point I am making is that there is more than one way to skin a kangaroo, and so the argument that the marsupial wolves, anteaters, jerboas, moles and so on have evolved simply because of similar environmental factors just doesn’t add up.

Sheldrake acknowledges these examples of convergent evolution as ‘spectacular’. The parallel, resonant marsupial-placental twinning is stunning, and it raises some intriguing questions. If wolves, jerboas, flying squirrels, moles, anteaters and so on can evolve separately on isolated continents.

And if these animal Forms are so strong, this is a further recommendation that they be used as the subjects of artists, as they were for everyone from the Old European Cave Artists to the Minoans, from the Egyptians to oils of Stubbs.

A channeled text, The Plieadian Agenda : A New Cosmology for the Age of Light, by Barbara Hand-Clow, makes a connection between Morphic Fields, Platontic philosophy and Ancient Greek and Egyptian Culture, and the portrayal of animals in art.

‘It is easier to see the light geometry of inanimate objects than it is to see the morphogenetic fields that cause lifeforms, such as your cat, because lifeforms are always moving. Subtle fields are easier to see by glimpsing them with peripheral vision when they are stationary.’

(This, incidentally, is also why I prefer to do yoga of the static kind, holding poses for some time rather than moving dynamically through them.)

So the constellation images have this double benefit, being based both on patterns that have been wondered at down through the generations, and also upon the Forms of animals, themselves potent repositories of morphic fields. This information from The Plieadian Agenda is a wondeful alternative to the depressing "Theory of Art" at the end of Plato's Republic. Some of the ideas expressed in The Republic are supported by Hand-Clow’s ‘channeled opus’, such as conceiving of a city as a horizontal wheel divided into twelve sectors assigned to the signs of the Zodiac, but at the end of Plato's book Socrates, as if becoming confused by weariness at the end of a very long discussion, overstretches the ‘simile’ of the Cave, or takes the simile too literally. Starting with the idea that the things in the world are copies of universal Forms, and expressing this through the idea that the things we perceive with our physical senses are like reflections or shadows of the true essence of those things, and then working along the lines of the simile in which the things in the world are the shadow images cast upon the wall of the Cave, he comes up with the barmy notion that since art consists of the imitations of things, it is therefore nothing more than copies of copies, and concludes that it must therefore be further into the world of shadows and less in touch with the realm of true Ideas. But one can see immediately that he was merely overstretching a particular analogy, and it is an almost diametrically opposite idea expressed in The Pleiadian Agenda that makes more sense in the light of thousands of years of culture: the stationary statue of the cat in fact makes the fields of the trancendant Form easier, not harder, to see, thus vivifying the field for those cats resident in an around the temple of Bastet.

We might take a further look at some of this wisdom from The Pleiadian Agenda.

‘Many artists can see such fields…[and]…they [i.e. the fields] are actually the source of beauty in matter. Beauty and desire are what cause things to come into existence in the first place, and an artist can make this visible.’ It continues: ‘When an artist strives for true beauty, these fields can actually be felt and heard.’

The last sentence is strikingly evocative of the famous Beethoven quote: "from the heart may it go to the heart," and Beethoven's work is mentioned several times in Hand-Clow's channeled work. This is a very relevant updating to the ‘Hermetic-Platonic’ philosophy, because it validates the Romantic approach, what we might term the Beethoven or the Van Gogh side of things: the passion of the artist is perceivable in the art, can be resonated with, something which some of the heavily formalized Egyptian art may, for all its ‘Hermetic-Platonism’, lack. Or take Constable’s Hay Wain as an example. As a child I spent many an evening gazing at that work, as I also did with Van Gogh’s paintings while a teenager, finding them magically beautiful. In that painting Constable was painting a scene that was very dear to his heart because it was the one seen from his beloved home. This love was ‘imprinted’ into the idea of the painting, and we can understand therefore why it has become the nation’s favorite painting. This latter statistic also results, of course, in another very rich layer of fields imprinted with passions and values this time from the audience. Romanticism believed in the unique ‘folk’ genius of each particular culture, or nation, and encouraged artists to work within a local vernacular. We can now see that this makes sense, because realistically speaking, as with Constable very often the heart is where the home is, and so we have shared values and feelings for places with those with whom we share the inhabitation of those places. I call this the Hera Principle or the Ceridwen Principle, for Hera represents the balance to Zeus's love of the exotic, an opposition to his expansionist zeal.

Another book might be written to encourage the return of such passion in art; this book is focussed on the hermetic technologies of enhanced resonance. The two can go hand in hand, and in fact support each other. ‘Indeed it is one of the paradoxes of art that structure, form and convention liberate the artist, whereas openness and complete freedom can be seen as a kind of tyranny.’ So wrote Stephen Fry in The Ode Less Travelled. And truth be told, Constable made very intentional use of the Golden Section in many of his paintings - there was more to them than Romantic sentiment alone.


Of course the presence of such Value Fields imprinted into a work then has obvious benefits, for as Satya herself says in The Pleiadian Agenda: ‘I, Satya, want as many of you as possible to remember how to appreciate beauty and harmony because we know that cultures that value these things are able consciously to reduce the destructive tendencies among their citizens.’

As we resonate with the stored value fields, an entrainment of our personal fields occurs causing us to value the world around us more. Sacred sites are very useful in this sense, and we can understand why beautiful, sacred buildings are such a vital part of the Greek culture model. Says Satya: ‘Ancient objects, such as the Sphinx or the Parthenon, are especially wonderful places to see these fields because they have remained in 3D for so long by means of the intense feelings of humans.’ The Parthenon is also deeply geometric, of course, and the Golden Section is often called Phi simply because these are the first three letters of this particular temple's architect. More so even than constellation patterns, sacred geometric Forms are universal, intelligible and eternal - they are the most fully mentally resonant 2D and 3D patterns that there are. Thus they strongly amplify the value fields of an ancient treasure.


So the values that we have felt for such things are like a bank account that we can draw upon, and some of our words are encoded with this wisdom. We speak of property ‘appreciating’ and of stored money ‘gaining interest’. If you appreciate something, you charge up its value fields, and the same applies if you are interested in something. (What have the curiosities of the many millions of readers of The Da Vinci Code done for the fields of the Louvre Pyramids and the Paris and Rosslyn ‘roselines’?)

This chapter argues for the existence of such fields, and by nature agruments tend to be intellectual, but let us recall that perception of the fields includes other faculties of mind. A leopard stalks in the dappled shade at the margin of the forest and the glade; so do we apprehend Beauty. Since morphic fields are fields, rather than solid logic, we need to observe them indirectly, like the way scientists know that light particles have behaved like waves by seeing the interferance patterns produced on a screen. They do this because as soon as one observes light directly, it ceases to behave like a wave, a behaves like a particle! The 6D light fields are, I would suggest, best seen when we enter into the state in which we stalk the margin between disclosure and concealment, like the leopards sacred to Dionysos.

Although Plato's Socrates occasionally makes mention of the need to strengthen the perceptive abilities of the eye of the mind, for the most part the Forms are described in Plato’s work as things to be found through philosophy. But these instructions from The Pleiadian Agenda - ways to see these fields almost like auras around things - are refreshing and exiting. We hear how the ‘vehicle’, Barbara Hand-Clow herself, was one night gazing out from her hotel room across to the Athenian Acropolis and ‘the white marble perfection glowing in the night sky was the essence of true beauty…lines of blue white light began shooting off all the angles and curves of the structure, as if the Northern Lights were forming in the night sky behind the Parthenon.’

Far from viewing art as one step removed from these fields, The Plieadian Agenda tells us how beautiful art activates our perception of this dimension of reality, and how ‘great art causes your heart to expand.’ It does not have a kind word to say about modern art, but favors a return to the ideals of past cultures, as with the City States of the Athenian League who, ‘finally exhausted after interminable struggles…attained a culture devoted totally to artistic beauty, personal freedom and intrinsic harmony.’ (Pleiadian Agenda, p.172) The book adds ‘your planet requires a very powerful dose of beauty quickly.’

This last point - namely that beautiful art, even though it is copies of things and not the things themselves, can assist us in expanding our experience the so-called six-dimensional reality - links to another shift in emphasis. In the various works of Plato we are told about the path of the philosopher moving from the world of illusion into the intelligible realm, moving along the Line out of the Cave towards the Sun, representing the Good. The implication is a movement out of the 3D world of physicality. But no, says The Pleiadian Agenda, that is not our goal here on Earth. What we are to increase is our multidimensionality, staying grounded and functional in 3D with our sense of self in tact, and actually perceiving the infusions of other dimensions by using the world around us as if looking through lenses. As far as 6D is concerned this is largely about seeing the universal within the particular, and this was there in the Platonic and Hermetic philosophies, but what there was not was the teaching that in fact we are better able to become multidimensional humans by staying grounded in 3D as our kind of home base, while in waking consciousness. Around this stable base is the canopy of our feeling body, and by achieving in our feelings a state of balanced polarity rather than polarized duality, (which can start by stopping watching team sports) in other words achieving the calm that comes through letting feelings flow and enlightening our belief systems, with this state achieved the feeling body, our 4D canopy, becomes a sensitive membrane able to receive the subtle light of higher dimensions. Conceiving of a town or city as a wheel of twelve will, we are told, greatly assist us in achieving such a state of balanced resonant polarity.

That’s fine when we are at home, but what about when we move around? Additionally, The Plieadian Agenda draws attention to a 6D aspect to possessions of personal value, such as the power objects in a shaman’s pouch. These are of course portable, and a small sacred circle to the four directions can be made anywhere, a little medicine wheel that can also be useful in achieving that balanced, enlightened state of calm emotional fluidity that allows us to go more multidimensional.

It is worth hanging on to valued objects when moving from place to place. I have had a framed print of Constable’s Hay Wain up in my living space for the last few years because I know that I find it easy to resonate with the accumulated value fields of that work and the idea of England as a beautiful idyll. For the same reason I recommend holding onto your teddy bear - it is a dear totem animal - Arcas - which records value fields of the child self who found appreciation of beauty natural and easy because 6D was valid for it, since it had not yet been persuaded to think in purely materialistic 3D terms about the space around it.

The above part of this chapter should give pretty rounded understanding of Morphic Resonance. I think you can appreciate why I saved the theory for so late in the book. Firstly, I consider it better to come at it from the experiental point of view - to explore the Mysteries in such a way that the Morphif Fields are felt. Then the theory may be approached with less danger of conscruing it in the wrong direction by misdirected logic. The other reason is simply that the material in this chapter just didn't seem to me to be appropriate for the opening parts of a book - first impressions count, as they say, and to be honest I didn't want to put people off.

Apart from the Theseus prophesy, which seems to include even more multimensionality, any one of the Mysteries in this book could function as case studies for the theory outlined in this chapter. As it happens there is still an intriguing Mystery left over which may serve as the example as well as any other. Follow the link as we look now at the ASLAN Mountain of Provence, that great Keeper of the Arcadian Dreamtime.

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