Visitors From Our Future?

Over the last ten years or so, I have placed myself under such an avalanche of information of a roughly paranormal nature, some of it compelling and some of it clear nonsense, that I feel it as a permanent burden on my back.  And yet, curiosity nudges me forward.

At the fringes of the fringe is the phenomenon called "remote viewing" or RV -- the supposed ability to see things that are far away geographically, or even in time, when asked to focus in a particular way.  It is said that everyone has this ability to one degree or another, and that it can be honed with practice.  It is also said that during the Cold War, the US and the Soviets each had secret programs to use RV for purposes of spying on the other; for example, an American psychic was able to pinpoint the precise location of an underground facility in which the Russians were building the largest submarine that the world has ever seen.

The phenomenon right now bumps up against our latest mad world-historical event.  Primitively-drawn pictures are circulating on social media.  They are said to have been sketched a few months ago by RV practitioners.  One quite clearly shows a crowd of people, a figure at a podium, the cross-hairs of a gun, and stray verbal cues, among them "assassination" and "failed?".

It will be easy enough to verify, or to debunk, the validity of these pictures in this our world of social-media foreverness.  And if they are real, what do they mean?

One theory purports to tie them to the notion that time is navigable, as in an H.G. Wells novel.  This notion is advanced now as well in an entirely different context -- the examination of the so-called "Nazca Mummies" found in the coastal deserts of Peru.  These desiccated creatures, which share features of homo sapiens but also of reptiles, are said not to be extraterrestrial, but to be our own descendants, returned in 800 A.D. or thereabouts, perhaps to steer our development away from some catastrophe.

But many scientists and philosophers long have educated us about a paradox that would seem to make time travel impossible, a self-cancelling circularity of causation if you will.  If I were to go back to Westport, County Mayo, in 1900, and to convince my maternal grandmother, Mary McGreal, not to board the boat for Boston, then I, of course, would never be.  I would disappear, in which case I couldn't very well go back to Eire.

The larger picture, though, is that things indeed and not just in my understanding of them, grow curiouser and curiouser, as if the world is facing right now a foundational shift, "slouching towards Bethlehem to be born."