| 
			
 
     
			
			
			
			Part Four
 Lewis’ closing remarks are oddly framed by his addenda of statements 
			that the story was actually true, and while we should be 
			disappointed to find all of it to be true, or even half of it, the 
			ambiguity is an invitation, even a conventional one, to thorough 
			exploration of the premise, and so, too, in ways that incorporate 
			the odd details of the mechanics of worlds in Lewis’ fictions for 
			children.
 
 Taken to the extreme, such concerns and concepts can take us to some 
			interesting places. Imagine a view of the space-time continuum, 
			where the exceedingly large quantum values that scientists are 
			learning to assign to large bodies throughout the heavens would be 
			made to mirror such oddities as a one-quantum universe. Not oddly, 
			one of Bearden’s more intriguing - if also more unfathomable - works 
			has been devoted to strategies of materialization and 
			dematerialization that rely on a premise of a one-particle universe, 
			in which one particle is moving so fast as to be like an actor 
			playing all of the roles in a play, portraying all of the particles 
			in a more conventional universe as it proceeds (Physicist John 
			Wheeler, to name only one, has thrown out a number of things no less 
			odd, by any means).
 
 We might wonder if our nearest world is what our world would 
			eventually be, in time, or the closest semblance that reason 
			permits. In such a view, is there any distance between worlds in 
			space at all, or only distance between one another in time?
 
 They are indeed interesting questions.
 
 We might also reshape Lewis’ rather inexplicable moralizing into 
			several interesting ideas, one of them being that terra-forming an 
			entire uninhabitable planet is easier by traveling through time to 
			when it was habitated or habitable. Alternately, that it is 
			habitable right now, but our experience has been as relativistically 
			bent as the bent space-time which yields the planet itself (’bent" is 
			a favorite word in this work), just as we could seize upon 
			many-worlds theories that might permit that there is a habitable 
			Mars in another reality right now that we can reach by dimensional 
			travel.
 
 Consider also that any of these diverse habitable versions of 
			uninhabitable worlds could be used as patterns in the magickal 
			terra-forming of their uninhabitable expressions.
 
 Lewis’ writing, in spite of the frequent denials from himself and 
			others that he concerned himself with mathematics or science, often 
			touches on exploring these exactly these very kinds of issues, or 
			intrinsically related ones, and even propositions that may have yet 
			to be guessed. If the architecture on Mars proves to be older than 
			human life itself, is Lewis asking us to consider the proposition 
			that they were built by human time travelers, in, ironically, a 
			sincere and through attempt to apply all possibilities in the course 
			of using scientific reasoning?
 
 Not that this is his eventual or ultimate claim, but then it’s hard 
			to assure one’s self that one has ruled out possibilities that 
			remained unconsidered altogether.
 
 The fragments of "The Dark Tower" also explore some issues in 
			considerable depth, and they are of course the ones that should be 
			familiar if one has devoted themselves not so much to the expressed 
			context of time travel, but the physics of time reversal. It’s an 
			inconclusive but a very powerful suggestion that the ultimate 
			purpose of the treasure map that extends from the mystery of Rennes-le-Chateau 
			through the works of the Inklings, is indeed conscious of the 
			philosophical or logistic difficulties of the alchemist’s feat of 
			resurrection, palingenics...
 
 Even though in reality such concerns and details may be truncated by 
			the understanding of the nature of objects that we may be granted, 
			for example, by the holographic physics of 
			
			David Bohm, or perhaps 
			the same thing in an earlier incarnation in the works of Hildegard 
			of Bingen, its indeed something to contend with to find Lewis’ work 
			encompassing such discussions after the proposal has been made that 
			this is the great treasure of the Prieure de Sion.
 
 Something else that merits mention is the "Christian" elements of 
			"Out of the Silent Planet". If we strive to actually apply 
			Christian 
			values, one finds that the unsatisfactory dramatic presentation of 
			morality leave us with little for the story’s version of a "Satan" 
			to be but an echo of a more ancient use of the character as a 
			personification of certain physical forces, almost identical to the 
			liberties that the Prieure took in creating the idiosyncratic demon 
			and the countless other peculiarities of their church.
 
 Time and time again, Lewis gives the eventual appearance that, in 
			spite of all other appearances, of possessing a mind and a 
			philosophy that is rare, but very much like Sauniere’s own.
 
 There is much more, of course.
 
 We may be intended to take the "problems" of palingenics into 
			consideration as much as possible in light of these alternate views 
			of reality, and such an approach in fact seems to be demonstrated in 
			Charles William’s "The Place of the Lion". His descriptions of what 
			the visionary sees around the ailing Mr. Beringer sound very much 
			like a sophisticated scientific emphasis that the point at which the 
			form of a living body is restored by palingenics is in fact a point 
			where the opportunity to extend into alternate realities in the form 
			of different possibilities of expression for the alchemically 
			created form. It implies that there is merit to considering 
			palingenics in contrast to the eventual change in form in a 
			reincarnating body, and underscores the inherent relationship to the magickal premise of 
			shape-shifting when those possibilities not only 
			include the spirit’s physical conformity to a new human body, but to 
			the traditional Hindu premise of reincarnation in an animal body.
 
 In other words, we find the elements of the Inkling’s works 
			reflecting off of one another as if there is far more than just 
			utilization of inspiring discussions between them or the occasional 
			borrowing of a concept; there are many tell-tale signs that all of 
			their works are carefully organized and orchestrated to a 
			potentially singular and extremely important purpose, exactly as an 
			initial implication of their involvement with the Priuere de Sion 
			implies.
 
 In fact, the concert and organized nature of their efforts is well 
			known. We find that the rear cover of Vol. 5 of Tolkien’s posthumous 
			"History of Middle Earth" , "The Lost Road", informs us that,
 
				
				"J.R.R. 
			Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were friends and fellow members of the 
			literary circle known as the Inklings. It is hardly surprising that, 
			at one point, these talented gentlemen embarked on a challenge: 
			Lewis was to write on ’space-travel’ and Tolkien on ’time travel’." 
			In an introduction, "The Early History of the Legend" 
			Christopher Tokien refers to several letters written by his father, describing 
			how C.S. Lewis had complained of there being "too little of what we 
			really like in stories", and they subsequently decided to write 
			their own.  
				
				"When C. S. Lewis and I tossed up, and he was to write on 
				space 
			travel and I on time-travel, I began an abortive book of time-travel 
			of which the end was to be the presence of my hero in the drowning 
			of Atlantis. This was to be called Numenor, the Land in the West...
 We agreed that he should try ’space-travel’, and I should try 
				’time-travel’. His result was well known. My effort, after a few 
			promising chapters, ran dry; it was too long a way round to what I 
			really wanted to make, a new version of the Atlantis legend. The 
			final scene survives as the downfall of Numenor..."
 
			While Christopher careful ponders exactly how a sensible chronology 
			defines the nature of the surviving fragments,  
				
				"But what is the 
			meaning of ’so I brought all the stuff I had written on the 
			originally unrelated legends of Numenor into relation with the main 
			mythology’?...But what was this material? He cannot have meant the 
			Numenorean matter contained in the Lost Road itself... it must 
			therefore have been something else, already existing when The Lost 
			Road was begun"  
			Perhaps there somehow remains work yet to be found, or even a work 
			in the possession of someone such as Lewis, which if so might have 
			perished in his oblivious brother’s bonfires. Had Tolkien truly 
			created something in full alignment with the hidden agendas of the 
			Inklings, however, perhaps some of the intrigues which surround the
			Prieure of Sion might apply to any mysteriously missing 
			documents.
 On the other hand, it’s equally possible that Tolkien anticipated 
			the need for subtlety with which the Inklings have long eluded 
			notice as initiates, and spent a great while perfecting the task of 
			burying some great revelation ever more deeply into the work at 
			hand.
 
 One finds it interesting that Tolkien’s work includes a translation 
			of "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight", not because it is an obvious 
			expression of his inevitable affection for Arthuriana, but of course 
			because this is one of the more powerful - and sometimes more 
			transparent - of the legends in which we see glimpses of the encoded 
			ancient science. Bertilak exhibits the power to cause his head to 
			return after being decapitated, a stunning example of the 
			applications of time-reversal, and one which still carries 
			connotations denoting the iconography of certain magickal herbs. 
			It’s exactly what one might expect under the auspices which we here 
			suspect to have surrounded the Inklings as initiates, and it’s a 
			gesture from which we might eventually infer much.
 
 We find the "unscientific" Lewis, in "The Dark Tower", going to 
			rather scientific lengths to illustrate rather scientific 
			principles, even while his Perelanda Trilogy is known to disparage 
			scientists or their doings. It would be perhaps an unbearably 
			hypocritical gesture on his part were he not apparently answering to 
			a higher calling, a higher scientific one rather than a higher 
			spiritual one.
 
 What is also interesting is that in the course of it, he manages to 
			beg to differ with the automatic presumption of the "Cartesian 
			coordinate" dimensional axes, of presuming length, height, and 
			width - three dimensions of space, to only one dimension of time.
 
 It’s an important thing, because as we look at going back to where 
			science and mathematics went wrong, that 
			
			the message of Cydonia and 
			the secrets of free energy should seem so elusive to engineers and 
			scientists, there’s really no telling that some of the wrong turns 
			didn’t happen even further back. Why should we presume there are as 
			many as three dimensions of a single quality called space, and why 
			in turn should we presume there are so few as only three? This in 
			turn can take on back to being able to explain miraculous science 
			even without the concern of dimensions, but in terms of vibration or 
			resonance, and holography.
 
			  
			The hyperspatial science may be to a 
			degree useful, but it may not be necessary whatsoever, and it does 
			manage to confound many, who while they can easily grasp the 
			concepts (it’s accessible enough to have often served in later 
			science fiction, and with a good deal of possible accuracy), in turn 
			cannot begin to grasp the mechanics, which do not seem to grace the 
			lists of achievements in applied science. 
 This new interest in hyperspace and hyperdimensionality does not, as 
			a rule, bring us closer at all to a communion between the 
			inhabitants of Earth and the red planet, and the need to be most 
			cautious here cannot be overstated, and as usual, even the 
			"non-mathematical" and "unscientific" Lewis is there to give warning 
			and to touch on the potentially arbitrary nature of the measures we 
			are still struggling to use with what is now the most important 
			cutting edge on which humanity’s well being rests. That we may, in 
			the course of trying to extricate ourselves from previous scientific 
			dogma, if we presume, end up entangling ourselves in yet another 
			dogmatic paradigm for a serious length of time, is a point well 
			made.
 
 I’ve a hunch, having read the story, "The Lost Road", once. While 
			it’s a marvelous fantasy, and one that gives a tangible feel to 
			anyone’s subtle reveries of the distant past, of glimpses of 
			panoramas, and of ancient words, knowledge, and long-lost loves, 
			it’s hard to find a sort of clue in it, at least at first sight. It 
			seems to all too easily be merely a brilliant, sentimental piece of 
			fiction.
 
 Still, the idea that it was intended to touch on 
			
			Atlantis seems 
			irrelevant outside of the sort of context we get from John Mitchell 
			in his classic work on sacred sites and ley lines, "The View Over 
			Atlantis".
 
 The 
			ley lines have often been associated with 
			time-bending effects, 
			not only like the Tesla and Bearden physics, but classic accounts of 
			seemingly having stepped for a moment, by all appearances, into the 
			past, and they’ve been often associated with a similar type of time 
			distortion, the appearance of ghosts. They are also central to the 
			grid-work of earth energies to which the Martian artifacts of Cydonia 
			point, and they are certainly implicated in the mystery of Rennes-le-Chateau.
 
 And of course, "The Lost Road" not only makes a wonderful euphemism 
			for "The Old Straight Track", the once forgotten ley lines, but it’s 
			also linked by an intermediate expression which can be found within 
			the text of the book.
 
 While there may be many more subtleties in this Tolkien work yet 
			awaiting identification, ("The Lost Road" is also an expression very 
			similar to some folklore motifs, with which Tolkien was likely well 
			acquainted, some of which may also be euphemisms for man’s lost 
			ability to see microscopically and telescopically) we may 
			nonetheless have seen the most important solution to such a riddle 
			here, and one which we have the good fortune of accumulated 
			investigations into these popular subjects to be able to solve 
			backwards in the present day.
 
 It is, not ironically, while inconclusive, exactly what we should 
			have expected.
 
 Lewis’ work manages to even include a diagram, and an interesting 
			one. Its premise is not a casual observation, and the diagram itself 
			may be possibly affiliated to a 
			
			soliton wave, as the first page of 
			this series begins its inclusions of science, but this model is also 
			achieved at one point during the complete rotation of a hypercube. 
			In other words, we not only have Patricia and Lionel Fanthorpe’s 
			detailed exploration of the hypercube in the mysteries of Rennes-le-Chateau, 
			but we may have it beginning to actually appear in this most graphic 
			way in the works of the Inklings, along with Lewis’ peculiarly 
			placed but recognizable description of the segment of a tesseract.
 
 (One cannot yet rule out either that Lewis’ description of the 
			spaceship in "Out of the Silent Planet" may be peculiar because it 
			may be poised to provide clues to Sauniere’s cipher, even while this 
			may restrains the ability of the tesseract to behave in the story in 
			some of the ways we would expect.)
 
 If one take the liberty of accepting Lewis’ diagram as one that 
			allows two different directions of time at two different rates, we 
			have a diagram that acknowledges still another extremely critical 
			concern of magick and phenomena involving time reversal: that the 
			rate of action in ’backwards" kinetics can be many times that of the 
			original forward progression of the event to be undone. It may also 
			allow and account for the disparities of time rates which appear 
			both in Lewis’ otherworldly fiction and in many, many classical 
			occult traditions when other worlds are in question.
 
 There’s a disturbing thing about "The Dark Tower" as well, and that 
			is exactly where the surviving fragment ends. So far, there’s not 
			much trace of the intrigue or cloak and dagger that surrounded the
			Prieure and so many others hanging over the Inklings, of manuscripts 
			stolen or destroyed or both, in order to suppress various 
			world-changing technologies, and yet it’s both a little too 
			disappointing and perhaps a little too convenient that as it ends, 
			Lewis is about to launch again into another exploration of the 
			intricacies of the philosophy of the mastery of space-time, about to 
			describe the details of some miraculous device, and very likely 
			about to do so a little "too" explicitly. We can only wonder.
 
 Still, enough of the pieces may remain with us.
 
 The exploration of these contexts is certainly a healthy one. Until 
			this work, I have taken it for granted, for example that muons for 
			magick and elixirs might only come in the rigid fashion of the 
			alchemists through chemical processes, or through relativistic 
			transformation, and never before a clear picture of their generation 
			through control of the mastery of time, through time-reversed or 
			time-reversing phase-conjugation of muon decay. There is much more 
			to consider of course, the muon tends to be a rather dodgy particle 
			as far as mainstream science is concerned, and its exact behavior is 
			troublesome. Unlike the electron, it is said to exist in neutral 
			form, which is sometimes helpful and sometimes confusing.
 
 At least, the idea of a time-reversed anti-decay may very well 
			conform with the rather rash supposition that the door of the 
			Chalice Well may show us what particles it can be made of in an 
			anti-decay mode, in case it’s dubious that a particle that decays 
			into an electron, a positron and a neutrino should want to appear 
			out of an electron and a positron in order to be more commonplace.
 
 It’s an important and practical step, whose inspiration has been 
			following more closely the details and premises of the work of the 
			Inklings. I can certainly tell you it hasn’t been a lost cause. 
			Quite the contrary, however precise are the things suggested on 
			these pages, it’s been a wonderful exercise, and quite a lot of fun, 
			and of course, it isn’t over yet. There’s too much connection to 
			other phenomena, 
			
			crop circles for example, that all of this should 
			evade application in that realm. Is the plasma vortex routinely 
			associated with crop circles, for example, a configuration which can 
			easily cause the time squeezing effects or other muon-generation 
			modes, such as perhaps "relativistic ion-accoustic effects"? And 
			what of muon-magnetic effects or residual exotic matter in the 
			flattened grain? Are these a great Grail to the alchemist?
 
 If even as an afterthought here, it’s also possible to make another 
			connection, one that is a more elegant if concise combination of the 
			conspicuous themes of the Inklings, and that is that all of the 
			speculation and discourse, as voluminous as it is managing to 
			become, has yet managed to overlook a set of connections that 
			already reinforces what should have on its own been obvious, that 
			the 
			magickal science of magickal mirrors and time cameras is a 
			science that also entails some mastery of time; it is both a 
			technology that 
			Nikola Tesla almost inevitably knew quite well, and 
			it is a technology that promises not only the anti-decay of sights 
			and sounds, but of our mystically important particles as well, such 
			as the muon.
 
 It is perhaps no surprise at all when the magick mirrors and 
			alchemic elixirs have been so routinely linked, to think that a magick mirror is potentially a powerful tool to create these very 
			substances.
 
 We are still, for all the mileage, only just beginning, and it is a 
			fabulous journey.
 
 Back To Contents
 
 |