The Truth Is Still Out There


”At the precise moment of the last breath – a man will not know that he has died. The spiritual being will simply move from one infinity to the next.”


As I sat there, intent on absorbing all – an unearthly tingle at the back of my neck shocked me out of primordial Thought. Was that a dejà vu I just experienced?

In the blink of an eye, it was as if I’d awoken from a deep sleep. I felt I’d at last jumped to a new level of consciousness.

”We are the Gods now” proclaimed Peter Weyland head of the global cybernetics company, The Weyland Corporation.

He stood there confident and slick in front of the packed auditorium. Weyland dramatically held the audiences’ attention for sixty minutes. In the closing minute, as he made his powerful statement, a synchronised gasp echoed around the building. A moment of stunned silence followed… In unison, the students stood up and erupted with tumultuous applause.

I must admit, I was aghast. When I had time to reflect on those words. I went further and decided to write about why I think that we have always been the GODS.

The next week, my head felt like the green-haired, blue-robed lemmings were in a battle with the wrinkles and cracks of my cerebrum in their attempt to escape. It was akin to a journey down the yellow brick road.

Okay, so I’m a bit of a geek. Nothing new. Ever since I was at junior school, my friends have called me a geek. I’m okay with that.

 My days were long drawn out. As well as lengthy research for my dissertation, a treatise began to form in my head as I found myself entangled in what some would call an obsession with the god question.

Of course, my thoughts on the matter would have to remain secret for now. I mean, who on earth would listen to a twenty-three-year-old undergraduate still high on testosterone. Let alone believe in something as divisive as stating ”We are the Gods, and always have been.”

A little while after I’d listened to that lecture, the first thing I did was to illuminate myself with Greek mythology from the spark which, Peter Weyland had touched on. It started on the topic of, Prometheus, and how he supposedly stole the gift of ”fire” then returned it to the human population. This in itself intrigued me, in that, all these stories were apparently written thousands of years BC.

The more I delved into the annals of ancient history, the more the circles of my mind fuzzed. I started off with cuneiform, that being the conversation piece of the time. Well, to be honest, it was cave paintings, but they were a bit hard to carry about. Anyway, the ancient scholars, if you can call them that. And, (after the fruits of my research, I like to refer to them as storytellers). You see, those guys got their information via the cave paintings and clay tablets from previous ancient societies. That’s all they could do, wasn’t it? I mean if you exclude ET’s, (my next project).

The thing was, the transfer of information became more complicated when ancient societies grew more significant. A new method of passing ideas and concepts from one individual to another had to be thought up. Like the advantages of making a wheel round instead of square, for instance. That’s a bit extreme I know, but – so, what better way to do that than draw little pictures in a piece of damp clay, which could be carried around.

The only problem with that, of course, was that people were on the move by then. Other villages miles away would have their own symbols/pictographs which could easily be interpreted in a different way to what was meant.


Joanne banged her fork on the table hard enough to turn a few heads in the cafe. ‘You are a geek, James, where do you get all this crap?’

I heard a pin drop and looked around at the startled faces through the gaps in my fingers. The half-smile afterwards was supposed to say,  ‘Joanne accidentally dropped it.’ Don’t think they saw that.

I slid down in my chair and tried to calm, Joanne, in dulcet tones.

‘Look, Jo… it’s not crap. You should know me well enough by now. Can’t you see what I’m trying to get at here? My latest research goes back to 10,000BC.’

She blanked me at first then her dark brown eyes pierced mine and held my gaze. At the same time, she picked up her fork and stuck it in a sausage until the moment she forcefully bit the end of it – glared into my eyes and we both burst out laughing.

But seriously why is it that every time I reveal my interpretation of the ”God question” people immediately go on the defensive. It’s not as if, Joanne should care anyway, I’m always telling her to think outside the box a bit more.

The point I was trying to make was, how over millennia new interpretations of the ancient text had morphed. A bit like Chinese whispers if you like. Into what is now the Old and New testaments. Which most of the population of the planet revere without question. You see cuneiform and hieroglyphs, not being written text per se, would make it easy for those in the ancient world to pass the information on with different meaning.

Not only that, but hundreds of years later, even the likes of Aristotle and Plato et al. would be paid to write in the way authors of today are paid for their works of art. I’m not saying they were unscrupulous, it’s just a case of them being enabled to give new meaning to ancient stories. And way back in antiquity, they gave people what they wanted to hear. Which wasn’t necessarily the truth. Same as propaganda authors do today.


Our lunchtime conversations often end up with the ”God question”. Not my fault. Joanne always brings it up first. We work in the same office at Moody’s estate agency. My first day there turned into a bit of a disaster.

On my way to work, an old man shunted my car from behind, and I was an hour late. By the time I arrived, the boss had been looking for me, Joanne, gave him the excuse that she’d sent me out to post an urgent letter to a wealthy client.

”Old moody blues wants you in his office as soon as you’re back.” she’d said, then promptly pinched her nose and pulled an imaginary chain.

 She laughed. I grimaced…


‘Morning sir I’m sorry I’m a–.’

He looked at me over his specs. ‘Don’t worry about that…look at yourself. You look as if you’ve just run a half marathon. Go and tidy yourself up and meet me in the car park.’

Back in our office, Joanne struck up the now familiar, Usain Bolt pose and passed me her deodorant spray. We kind of bonded from then on.

Joanne’s always been a good listener. Apart from her castigations. She always complains that ”I’ve got a brain that never sleeps. Geek.”

I always shoot back with, ”You do realise that the human brain has as many neurons as there are stars in the Milky Way.” She opens her mouth to reply then thinks better of it.

The next time she helped me out was later that first week. I’d just taken a call from a prospective client. Joanne looked over to my desk opposite and pulled the chain again. After I’d finished the call, she gave me the evil eye swivelled her chair around and launched herself toward me.

‘James,’ she said, ‘If you want to carry on working here, it’s Moody’s Exclusive Property Agents. If old moody blues hears you calling it an estate agent, he’ll go ape.’


That was three years ago. I took the junior executive post in desperation when I’d seen a lot of my pals having to work at Tesco’s. ”How come you get all the luck,” they said to me. It was a no brainer for after I collected my Business and Marketing degree from Hull Uni.


”They do not see the long and arduous journey, but only behold the pleasant goal, and call it luck.”

James Allen



While researching for my dissertation, I inadvertently came upon a Greek mythology website, the topic was, Prometheus the Titan. This was a few months after the Peter Weyland lecture. For me, this was a subject I knew nothing about, but after reading the first few pages on the wiki, I was hooked.

What was also evident at that stage was, how I began to question the whole god concept. Why it is that billions of people still bow to their gods. A bit deep, I thought at first, especially for someone in their early twenties. But that’s me. Geek.

The way my thought pattern works was the synchronicity of it all. My life up to that point had been. Born and lived in Hull. Studied at the university there. Chance things that happen to me. Several dejà vu moments in adulthood.

 A recent example was when I took a millionaire client to view a substantial Georgian residence. Halfway down the rear garden towards the folly at the back – I stopped abruptly. I then went on to describe the ornate fountain that once stood on the very spot. Now, where that came from I couldn’t say. It wasn’t in the prospectus, the deeds, the survey report. Nothing. I just knew there had been a fountain there previously.

A month after the millionaire guy purchased the property, I received a letter from him, along with an invite to a garden party to thank me and to say how I was right about the fountain. Workmen,  engaged in insulating the lofts had removed a dusty old portrait depicting the original owner and his wife in a seated pose in front of the ornate fountain.

All these coincidences were beginning to stack up. I often wondered if there was any connection to a past life? To further my studies, I decided soon after to save my hard-earned cash and enrol on a BA in Archaeology and Ancient History at Birmingham.


I slipped out of the office for lunch. It was a hot sticky day, so I trailed my jacket over my shoulder and weaved my way along the pavement to a French coffee shop I started to frequent. The overall decor is wall to wall portraits of famous people, one of which is of the French philosopher/mathematician, René Descartes.

I knew of him through my research on what is generally known as ”The Great Leap Forward”; a point in time where the early man left his primitive cousins behind, aka, Neanderthals.

Reading Descartes theory on the pineal gland was of great interest. He talks of the body as a mechanical device. And the pineal gland as an attachment which creates the soul of a man. He was also at odds with, Aristotle’s opinion on how happiness depends on one’s ”good fortune”.

Descartes does not deny that this good contributes to happiness, but remarks that they are in considerable proportion outside one’s own control.

I also learned that Socrates believed in something like heaven.  Although he was sceptical about traditional Greek polytheistic religion, he firmly thought that there was some higher divine power. A power that will reward good people in the afterlife

A theory I’m drawn towards because of the connotations of early cave paintings depicting alien type figures. ”The Great Leap Forward” in human evolution, some scholars say, came in at 60,000 years ago. It’s my guess that superior beings landed on our planet and genetically modified homo sapiens to include the pineal gland. Think about that for a moment…

A far fetched idea? Yes I know, it seems that way, but, when you consider where we are on the genetic science scale today. Primarily stem cell experiments with animal/ human chimera, it’s possible, that’s what happened.

In America, the scientist, Esmail  Zanjani’s team hopes the animal-human chimeras they are creating will one day yield new cells. Genetically identical to a patient’s own for repairing damaged organs, and perhaps larger pieces for transplantation.

The recent cave paintings found in India portray what is thought to be alien-looking figures. Remember this was at a time when mans’ concept of imagination for his environment would have been – what you see, you paint pictures of.

Back to, Descartes, he also wrote a response to external world scepticism. He argues that sensory perceptions come to him involuntarily and are not willed by him. They are external to his senses. Therefore, this is evidence of the existence of something outside of his mind, and thus, an alien world.

He then goes on to show that ”the things in the external world are material by arguing that God would not deceive him as to the ideas that are being transmitted.” So, even after centuries have passed, intelligent people are still talking about, ”external worlds”.

In his studies on the ability to interpret the surrounding environment, Hermann von Helmholtz, concluded, ”vision could only be the result of some form of unconscious inferences – a matter of making assumptions and conclusions from incomplete data, based on previous experiences.

In psychology studies, a flashback (dejà vu perhaps)  ”is a psychological phenomenon in which an individual has a sudden, usually powerful, re-experiencing of a past experience or elements of a past experience. The term is used particularly when the memory is recalled involuntarily. And/or when it is so intense that the person relives the experience, unable to fully recognise it as memory and not something that is happening in real-time“.


 Ahead of me, a young woman stood at the top of the steps of the Victorian building, which is now the BUPA Consultancy offices. Pretty, I thought, but then I wrote her off as a dizzy blonde until I moved closer and noticed the sad expression on her face. At the bottom of the steps she stepped onto the pavement, her body language suggested she seemed lost. She didn’t know which way to go?

Just then a hooded youth raced past me knocked her to the ground and snatched her bag. I felt the familiar tingle in the back of my neck. Instinctively I called her name then dropped my jacket and gave chase. The thug had managed to disappear down a side street. I collided with a mobility scooter which didn’t help.

As I limped back. The young woman, in tears, was still on the ground being comforted by an elderly couple who handed me my jacket. I retrieved my mobile made a quick call. After thanking the couple, they left. I helped Emily to her feet.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Y…yes. Please don’t fuss. I’m fine.’

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch him. I rang the police. They should be here soon.’

‘P…please, there’s no need. I’m okay. Really.’

We were face to face when I noticed the sparkle from what appeared to be a crystal teardrop on her eyelash, it drew my gaze. It flicked into the air then fell as if in slow motion and shattered on the ground. My focus returned to her face, and I was stunned. She’s heterochromatic.

The wail from the car stopped abruptly – another siren blared in the distance. ‘That’ll be an ambulance. I asked them to send one.’


After the police had questioned us and Emily declined to go to the hospital. We were left alone.

‘Come on. Let me take you for a coffee. You’ve had a shock.’

‘Please. No, I’m fine. I should be going.’

‘Look… Emily. Come for a coffee, at least you can use my phone. Ring your bank and things.’

She hesitated then said, ‘How do you know my name, do I know you?’

‘I heard you tell the police officer.’

‘No, I mean before that. You called my name. When you chased the bag snatcher.’

‘Oh, did I? strange… look it’s a long story. Come on…let’s have a coffee. I’ll tell you all about it.’

In the cafe, I picked up a magazine someone had left behind. It immediately grabbed my attention being open at a page that read:

‘Mind is the Master power that moulds and makes,

And Man is Mind, and evermore he takes

The tool of Thought, and, shaping what he wills,

Brings forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills: —

He thinks in secret, and it comes to pass:

The environment is but his looking-glass.”

James Allen


Published by Baz Baron

Naturally I'm a lovely person to know, but as D'Arcy says 'My good opinion once lost is lost forever.'

I love comments :-)

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