religion – Nothing to Doubt Blog

I’ve been waiting for ET & UFO disclosure for most of my life now.

I’m old enough (feels weird to say) to remember when Obama was supposed to disclose ETs circa 2009. Since the days of perusing the Above Top Secret forum in high school, whispers of official “disclosure” have always placed it at right around the corner, a sort of saving grace for those in the UFO community, a foretold redemption for those whose friends and family might view them as crazy.

Since then, I’ve learned that disclosure is very much an individual, often painful journey of discovering truth within yourself, deconstructing layers of old belief systems to perceive more of reality. We don’t need to wait for the government to tell us what is real. Nor should we care what any other person thinks, for that matter.

I’ve also learned that there are many people in this world who will not believe anything unless it comes from an “official” external source, even though these same sources — whether governments, mainstream media outlets, or church leaders — have been participating in the deceitful coverup and perception manipulation for decades, often in conjunction with the intelligence agencies.

For most of these people, some sort of official acknowledgement is needed that we are not alone in the universe — that there are beings here visiting from other planets, other dimensions, possibly even from beneath our feet. We have been swimming about a tiny fish tank, made to believe it was our whole reality.

In general, I see two categories of people whose belief systems will be shattered by a hypothetical disclosure.

The first are your classic dogmatic religious people, who are made to believe that beings from other planets or dimensions, or anything outside their narrow box, are demonic. I’m not saying that there isn’t a “demonic” element to our world (it would explain a lot, actually). But the worldviews of a surprising amount of people in the online Christian community have devolved to the point where they believe that space and other planets are “fake” (in my mind, a purposeful psychological operation in conjunction with flat earth theory), a perfect way to continue the 80-year coverup and get people arguing over nonsense.

Open-minded Christians (and other religious people) who can see that ETs, UFOs, and interdimensional beings are mentioned everywhere in holy texts, even littered throughout religious artwork/iconography (a few examples of which I’m attaching), will have a much easier time. They will accept the obvious truth that God made a vast universe filled with a multitude of intelligent expressions. Anything less (space is fake) is a disservice to his creation.

A Question I’ve Long Pondered:

Why am I born who I am?

Come on, it’s not like I don’t know how babies are made, but I’m asking this from a deeper level—why am I born as a male human being, in this country, to these parents? Why not in Zimbabwe, or Syria, or even North Korea? Why not an elephant for that matter, a soaring blue jay, or an advanced alien race, at the other end of the Milky Way?

Who is the “I” in this case I treasure so deeply? Because to me, this identity has to be something more than simply the symbols that my parents assigned since arriving to this world.

In other words: why am I me and why are you you?

And why are we both alive right now, as intelligent beings on a beautiful planet among billions of others in this galaxy?

Who decides?

Unfortunately, we as a humanity are at the mercy of a paradoxical existence: As much as we come to know our bodies, identifying with it as we are told, we can never shift outside of ourselves, and look directly into our soul. As such, it wasn’t long before I was made to forget this question that others would consider so strange, knowing simply:

“My name is Mark. This is me! I come from a Roman Catholic family. And I am only seven years old.”

Oh but I hated Sunday school! And that’s putting it lightly. My twin and I would devise all sorts of ways to escape this religious instruction, and it is no wonder I was not prepared in the least for my first communion . . .