A Seance in the Situation Room of the Soul
A candlelit room, a circle of officials, a celebrated witch in trance, and a voice that does not belong to any of them. The message is brutal in its simplicity: Earth is a farm, you are the cattle, your souls are our harvest. For a small and secretive circle inside the American security state, this moment reframed everything they thought they knew about the UFO puzzle. They did not see extraterrestrials; they saw spiritual predators in convincing masks.
From Rockets to Rituals
To understand how national security found itself in a séance, follow the strange path cut by a brilliant rocket pioneer who kept one foot in the laboratory and the other in ceremonial magic. Jack Parsons helped birth modern rocketry, then stepped into occult workings inspired by Aleister Crowley. The timing is striking. Within a year of his most ambitious rites, flying discs and crashed craft roared into the headlines. For a handful within intelligence circles, correlation looked a lot like causation, not of nuts and bolts craft, but of opened doors.
The Collins Elite Takes Shape
Within that shadowed ecosystem, a quiet working group formed, sometimes whispered about as the Collins Elite. Their hypothesis was radical. The saucer is a costume, the grey is a puppet, the encounter is a ritual by another name. They believed the phenomenon fed on fear, fascination and misplaced devotion, and that contactee doctrines of cosmic brotherhood were not revelations from the stars, but catechisms planted to rewire belief.
When Government Tests the Unseen
Official curiosity drifted from simple observation into participation. Psychic experiments multiplied. Mediums, astrologers and occult practitioners were consulted. The aim was leverage, insight, and any edge that might exist beyond the visible spectrum. This phase climaxed in that 1972 sitting with the famed British witch Sybil Leek, where an entity using the name Kazulakem spat contempt and claimed ownership of the unseen spaces around humanity. To those present, the moral of the encounter was stark. They were not negotiating with visitors – they were being toyed with by something old, intelligent and hungry.
The Deception They Feared Most
From that point, the group’s focus shifted from analysis to prevention, and prevention meant programming. They began drafting internal memoranda, strategy papers, and behavioural “scripts” for how humanity should be steered if the deception began to unfold. Their fear map wasn’t just a theory; it became a kind of spiritual counterintelligence manual. Its key components looked like this:
- The Saviour Narrative: They anticipated a time when “space brothers” or celestial beings would arrive offering unity, healing, and a new cosmic faith. To counter this, they sought to embed traditional religious symbols into global discourse, reinforcing the idea of divine hierarchy rather than universal oneness.
- Mass Miracles and Spectacle: They expected holographic displays, sky apparitions, or psychic phenomena engineered to inspire awe. Their answer was to saturate military and intelligence circles with scepticism toward any unverified mass event, ensuring disbelief would be institutionalised before revelation ever came.
- Memory Tampering: They believed minds could be altered through frequency, trauma, or suggestion. So they funded research into psychic shielding, electromagnetic protection, and the cultivation of what they called “doctrinal anchors”—belief systems so rigid they could not be easily rewritten.
- Cultural Infiltration: Popular culture was viewed as a battlefield. The group quietly supported narratives that glorified spiritual warfare, redemption through faith, and the binary of light versus darkness, ensuring these archetypes would dominate the collective imagination.
- Controlled Disclosure: They feared a sudden, chaotic revelation of alien presence would trigger global submission. Instead, they worked toward a slow, curated unveiling managed by religious and state authorities, ensuring that if disclosure happened, it would arrive under their moral framework.
In practice, this became an invisible architecture—an unspoken curriculum woven into films, pulp novels, pulpits, and policy papers alike. The aim was subtle conditioning, not overt control, training humanity to interpret any future contact through a specific moral filter. Whether every point was meant literally or symbolically, the pattern was clear: suppress discernment, redirect faith upward through controlled channels, and harvest loyalty under the banner of salvation.
Their program wasn’t about hiding the truth entirely; it was about pacing it. They wanted revelation on their terms, framed through theology and statecraft, not mysticism or open-source consciousness. In doing so, they effectively drew a map for the next century of global narrative control—one where the sacred and the strategic would forever walk hand in hand.
Fighting Back Without Becoming What You Oppose
Some within the group proposed countermeasures that drifted toward theocratic control, a fortress of belief policed by doctrine. Their solution was to militarise faith itself, turning religion into a defensive shield for the state. The danger was obvious even then, that in trying to guard the world against deception, they would create a new machinery of control disguised as righteousness. They drafted plans for compulsory belief training, coded moral guidelines into intelligence handbooks, and encouraged military chaplains to frame psychic or UFO encounters as demonic warfare. Their intentions were rooted in protection, but their methods echoed the very domination they feared.
Yet not everyone inside the circle agreed with that course. A quieter faction, sometimes called the “inner school”, believed resistance must begin within. They spoke of cultivating inner authority rather than institutional obedience, of training perception to see through illusion instead of banning inquiry altogether. They argued that discernment, not dogma, was the true weapon. Their idea of defence was personal mastery, a consciousness disciplined enough to perceive the manipulator without becoming entangled in its game.
And this is where the story begins to mirror our own choices. If the phenomenon—whatever mask it wears—is about commandeering attention and belief, then the antidote is presence, sovereignty, and clean spiritual hygiene. Guard the imagination as if it were sacred territory. Use prayer, meditation, stillness, or breath as protective technologies. Feed the mind with clarity rather than chaos. Reduce the emotional diet of fear and fascination, for those are the currencies of control. Most of all, refuse the seduction of easy saviours, whether terrestrial, celestial, or digital. Every time we outsource discernment, we volunteer for harvest.
Reading the Symbols of Our Time
The tale of rockets and rituals is not only history, it is an allegory for the modern psyche. What began in the laboratories of Pasadena and the séance rooms of the CIA now echoes in our devices, our headlines, and our collective dreams. We are surrounded by systems that script perception—social networks that measure emotion, entertainment that trains belief, news cycles that ritualise fear. These are not random evolutions; they are the descendants of the same impulse: to choreograph consent through controlled wonder.
The most powerful false sign today is not a light in the sky; it is the voice within that whispers, “Someone else will tell you what’s true.” Every time we accept that whisper, we trade sovereignty for convenience. The real revelation comes when we stop seeking masters of knowledge and begin embodying knowing itself. The truest counter-sign is the quiet conviction that your soul is not for sale, that no narrative—political, spiritual, or extraterrestrial—owns your sense of meaning.
If there is a harvest, it is a harvest of attention and life-force. If there is a farm, it is built from habits that bleed our awareness into fear, entertainment, and tribal rage. The modern rituals are not seances but scrolling, not incantations but algorithms that feed on outrage. Closing the door no longer requires fireballs or exorcisms; it requires remembering who you are, choosing stillness amid spectacle, and reclaiming the creative power of consciousness. To meet the unknown with courage and humility is not naïveté—it is the highest form of rebellion in an age built on manipulation.
What We Can Do Now
- Cultivate practices that increase clarity, not passivity, such as contemplation, journaling, breathwork and sincere prayer.
- Learn the signatures of manipulation, false urgency, weaponised awe and messiah marketing.
- Hold technology and spectacle lightly, ask who benefits from wonder without wisdom.
- Build communities that prize free inquiry and spiritual integrity over ideological victory.
We do not need permission to anchor truth in our own bodies and lives. If deception is a mask, sovereignty is the unmasking.
Original Article: Prepare for Change
Join the Conversation
Are we witnessing a path to liberation disguised as fear, or a net of control dressed up as revelation? What daily practices help you keep your field clear and your choices your own? Share your comments below.
