THE GRAYS - FROM WHITLEY STREIBER'S JOURNAL
From December of 1986 until October of 1997, I was in continuous, often daily, contact with the grays. I have written little about it in part because there is no proof and I feel that my words will, for the most part, fall on deaf ears. People simply won’t believe me. More importantly, though, there has been the huge question of how to write about it in a useful way. Simply describing the experience would be a waste of time. They cannot be described simply. To communicate their impact and their content, I had to find another way.
In October of 1997, we moved from upstate New York to Texas, and the grays briefly tried to follow, but in the end did not. In June of 1998, I spent a phenomenal 45 minutes with a man who I think might have been involved with them in some way. I transcribed my conversation with him, and have published it in my little book, the Key.
In August, I will publish a work of fiction about the grays, which is intended to bring them to life as people, and to reveal what it is like to be with them. It is also my hope that the methods of communication that I demonstrate in the novel will prove useful to people who are in contact and having difficulty experiencing a rich and consistent relationship with them. I've been asked where to get this. It will be in bookstores on August 22.
Communication is the center of the problem, and communicating with them is completely different from everything that we do among ourselves that results in the transmission of information.
They are aware that they can be shattering, and are extremely concerned that they not overwhelm us. All we have that is of any interest to them is our freedom, on every level, and insofar as direct contact with them might compromise it, they avoid that with a passion, and their passion is intense beyond anything that we know among ourselves.
It is said that they are emotionless automatons, heartlessly carrying out cruel scientific experiments on helpless victims, stealing their eggs and semen, raping them, and leaving them with suppressed memories and shattered lives.
All of which accurately reflects one level of our experience of them. But that is not all, not by a long shot. It is as equally true to call them wonderful as it is to call them dangerous. They can act in an emotionless manner, but that’s because they are so very complex, both as individuals and as the array of specialized forms that present themselves to us. Some of their forms may represent separate species, but many of them appear to be the outcome of engineering the one species into different body types, presumably to perform different specialized functions.
I cannot call them aliens from another planet because I don’t know if that’s what they are. Indeed, my years with them have left me with questions that it has taken another ten years for me just to begin to elucidate.
I will be frank with you about what I am trying to do with my life: I am trying to create a relationship between us and the grays. Right now, we do not have a relationship, for two reasons: our attitude toward them is dysfunctional; and they do not know how to reach into our culture without destroying it. My ambition is to make the relationship fruitful, and to enable them to interact with us openly without wrecking our lives.
And why might they do that? The reason is that our minds live inside time and theirs do not. Therefore, they know things that we do not, and do not want to know. The world looks very different to them than it does to us. I have seen our world through their eyes, in a process that they taught me. Before I describe how they did that, let me explain what it is that they are able to do: Using their mastery of awareness, they are able to do things like move consciousness into an extra-physical state, and deposit it in another body. This seems impossible, of course, in a society that is so devoted to denying the existence of anything that it doesn’t understand.
It’s a habit that we need to break, because it does not help us, and, in fact, impedes our scientific progress. In the New York Times in 1903, an editorial was published stating that heavier than air flight might be possible, but would not happen unless science devoted a million years of effort to solving the mystery of it. Nine days later, the Wright Brothers flew, and yet neither the New York Times nor the rest of our intellectual culture has corrected the weakness of mind that led to the absurd failure represented by that editorial.
It is this same weakness that has caused us to be so unable to cope with the presence of the grays in our world. But they have not been unable. In fact, they have acted with capability and been effective.
The grays’ effort to communicate with us in this way began in 1954 and ended in 2004. In July of 1954 they carried out a test over Washington DC. During this test, they carried out basic attempts to engage us in conversation. These attempts were met with silence. They also directed their attention to specific individuals, among them Dr. Paul Hill, who was then NASA’s chief engineer.
While Dr. Hill proved to be an excellent observer, he was unable to detect or respond to the messages that were directed at him. Others who were reached in this way were aware of the communication, but transmitted it to the world in distorted ways that were not useful.
This failure was anticipated, but it was necessary from an ethical standpoint that the test be conducted. The failure caused them to withdraw and move to another tactics of contact, that it was anticipated would work. Beginning in 1952, they had been engaged in a plan that has been very effective. This plan involved a number of different activities. Initially, carefully selected children were addressed in such a way that their expectations about reality were shattered. They took advantage of a devastating intelligence program that was leaving some children emotionally maimed, but was also opening the minds of others to new possibilities. There were only a few thousand of these children worldwide, but they were enough to form the nucleus of what is essentially a communications device made up of human minds that has been, in effect, “implanted” in our culture. It takes the form of millions of close encounter witnesses whose experiences are brought into focus by these few thousand, who comprise the great majority of the witnesses who speak out publicly about what has happened to them.
What has been communicated are two things: the first is a suggestion that we do not know our true history; the second is that planetary changes are putting us in peril of our lives. My part in this has been twofold: first, to publish the Key, which suggests that we do not understand who and what we are, and offers ideas that might help us go in new and more fruitful directions; second, to publish Superstorm, which describes what could happen if we don’t gain control over our effect on the environment. This was expressed again in the film the Day After Tomorrow, which had been seen by nearly a billion people worldwide.
Beyond that, I am also involved in personalizing the grays and giving them dimension. This is the purpose of books like Communion and the Grays. The movie of Communion failed, but I am hopeful that the Grays, which is the more important of the two projects, will also be amplified into the culture in the form of a movie.
The project is intended to accomplish two things: to give the reader or the moviegoer a clear sense of what sort of people the grays are; and to reveal by example methods of interacting with them that cannot be explained directly in languages like ours, which are designed to impart information across elapsing time. The grays do not communicate in linear conceptual structures, and in order to understand how they do communicate, it is essential to enlist not only logic, but imagination. The Grays is a story and not a work of nonfiction, because only story can really reveal this. You must feel it in order to understand it, and there is no way to accomplish this except through story.
I learned to communicate with the grays with a certain efficiency. When I say “grays” though, I do not mean only people who appear more or less like the individual I had painted for the cover of Communion. This presence is far more complex than that.
I spent the last few years of my time in upstate New York in the frequent company of seven people, who would come at about eleven each night to meditate with me. They were extratemporal, in the sense that their meaning and their communication did not depend on a linear structure. Certainly, through their eyes, a tree would appear to be a tree, but they would see, also, the seed and the spent logs, the memory of the tree and the absence of memory. They would see from before the seed, down the intricate web of trees stretching back into the fading thunder of the past, and all of this at once, when seeing the tree. To live outside of time is not to be delivered from duration, but to see all duration, all the time.
These people took three forms: the cloaked form, where they appeared as dimly glowing orbs about twice the size of basketballs. They would move, in this state, with such a sense of ease and direction that it was startling to observe them. Things like that—balloon-like—are supposed to float and bob about, in our experience. They moved, instead, with absolute deliberation and clear intelligence.
They would also appear, when they were in the house, as small people, no more than three feet tall, wearing simple tunics cinched at the waist and looking all very much alike, like identical twins. When they first appeared, I wanted to touch and taste and smell them, and one of them laid his hand in mine. It felt like holding a little bird, warm and nervous and infinitely delicate. I smelled his hand, and his skin smelled like the skin of people in the third world, who never bathe, a sharp, multi-layered and slightly rancid sweetness, not pleasant to a western nose used to the scent of soap on skin.
On the last night we were together, when the house was packed up and I was about to do one of the hardest things I had ever done, which was to move away from that place, I asked the one of them I had come to know very well, to let me see him as he really was.
I waited, but he did not appear in the room. He had walked on the roof for a while, so I knew that he was here. Finally, I left the meditation room and went to bed. A few moments passed and I saw a crystalline blue light glowing across the front yard, as if the windows of the mediation room were blazing with fire.
I went to the window, and there appeared around the corner of the house a fantastic shining object, extremely bright, it’s needle-thin rays pricking my skin where they touched it. In the light there were small objects floating that looked like little sculptures of fetuses made of gold.
The rays, where they touched me, also touched my truth, what is best and worst within me, and took me with them deep into myself. I knew from long experience that the journey into one’s own truth is an agonizing one, because the grays cannot help but take you there, but this one was so very deep and so very intense that I simply could not bear it. He withdrew, then, back around the side of the house, and left my life.
Thus ended a grand time, eleven years of contact of the most intimate and highest sort, so fruitful and so very deeply useful that I have ever since been on a mission to somehow communicate its sense to others. Because if I could make it make sense, then the gray might emerge, and we would gain, from that revelation, the chance to transform ourselves, and lift ourselves into the grandeur of being that is our true home and our destiny—or no, the beginning of our destiny. Because I can assure you, this world that we have made, of battle and false beliefs, of gorging on material things, is not nurturing of the human spirit. Far from it, the world of Wal Mart and Harrod’s and the corner store, of the closet full of clothes and the garage full of metal monsters—this is not our world, this is not our true home. No, indeed, and we are all homesick and wanting to go home, and this is why we fight here as we do, like rats grown bitter from wandering a maze from which there appears to be no escape.
If our culture can somehow find a way to turn toward our visitors and face them openly and frankly, we have a chance to escape this maze. If not, when we are going to remain here until this expression of the species collapses, and then have to spend thousands of years climbing up out of the rubble and starting over again, and then come to the same place we are now, at the point of connection with the broader culture intelligent species in the universe, and once again either pass the test or fail it.
What will make us fail now are three things: the continued refusal of our active intellectual culture to accept the reality of the grays; the refusal of those who do accept their reality to be open to it in an objective manner; and a failure on the part of those who do understand to achieve effective communication.
Effective communication does not mean learning how to talk with them in some unusual manner—say, via telepathy. It means acting in ways that usefully address the three problems mentioned above.
We are in contact. The grays are communicating with us through large scale cultural artifacts like books and movies, and small ones like the close encounter in the night. It’s up to us to respond to these communications in appropriate ways, as the brilliant creatures that we are, with care, maturity and an open mind.