Alternate Realities in My Inbox

Dear Alan,

Join our 2nd European Quantum Technologies Conference on 29. November – 2. December 2021. The event will be held virtually – Registration is already open!

The European Commission launched a new competition in the field of space: #myEUspace. For the first time stakeholders of the quantum technologies area are also invited to participate in this competition. Find out more in this newsletter.

There ist also a Quantum Flagship project news which is worth reading. {German typo??}

Please also have a look on what is new in the community.

In case you want us to include something in upcoming newsletters please feel free to contact us.

The European Quantum Flagship Team


Bonjour Monsieur Taylor,

je viens de recevoir les résultats de vos polypes

rien de grave

ce sont des adénomes bénins

un polype a été fragmenté avec une coupe complémentaire, les recommandations

françaises sont d’effectuer une coloscopie à 6 mois environ pour vérifier la zone

du polype

si vous êtes d’accord merci de reprendre contact avec le cabinet dans environ 4 mois




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Far out man…

The Coypu and The Bentonite

Picked up 30litres of bentonite cat litter this morning to plug up the other side of the coypu burrow.

The burrow is in the bank I am standing on and water drains through it towards Le Jaudy which is to my right.

Took off the top layer of turf and found this:

There is a kind of U bend and a tunnel nearer the top. Both are about 50cm long.

This is me stuffing small stones into the tunnel and ramming them in with the rod to my right.

Next, the bentonite it should expand to around three times its volume when wet, it should stick together and agglomerate.

I pour it in and quickly ram it in by hand before it can absorb any water.

Multiple layers pressed in by hand and mixed with gravel.

Some clay rich soil to finish off…

Fingers crossed…so far no new signs of leakage.

Memory Restoration

“Since time immemorial, humans have tried to understand what memory is, how it works and why it goes wrong. It is an important part of what makes us truly human, and yet it is one of the most elusive and misunderstood of human attributes.

It seems that our memory is located not in one particular place in the brain, but is instead a brain-wide process in which several different areas of the brain act in conjunction with one another (sometimes referred to as distributed processing). For example, the simple act of riding a bike is actively and seamlessly reconstructed by the brain from many different areas: the memory of how to operate the bike comes from one area, the memory of how to get from here to the end of the block comes from another, the memory of biking safety rules from another, and that nervous feeling when a car veers dangerously close comes from still another. Each element of a memory (sights, sounds, words, emotions) is encoded in the same part of the brain that originally created that fragment (visual cortex, motor cortex, language area, etc), and recall of a memory effectively reactivates the neural patterns generated during the original encoding. Thus, a better image might be that of a complex web, in which the threads symbolize the various elements of a memory, that join at nodes or intersection points to form a whole rounded memory of a person, object or event. This kind of distributed memory ensures that even if part of the brain is damaged, some parts of an experience may still remain. Neurologists are only beginning to understand how the parts are reassembled into a coherent whole.

Neither is memory a single unitary process but there are different types of memory. Our short term and long-term memories are encoded and stored in different ways and in different parts of the brain, for reasons that we are only beginning to guess at. Years of case studies of patients suffering from accidents and brain-related diseases and other disorders (especially in elderly persons) have begun to indicate some of the complexities of the memory processes, and great strides have been made in neuroscience and cognitive psychology, but many of the exact mechanisms involved remain elusive.”

Excerpted from

Elsewhere in this blog I have hypothesised some kind of partial memory recall from previous incarnations. Such a thing is impossible if all memory function is brain only, because on death and subsequently the brain ceases to function and be. Using the esoteric psychology of the personality, comprised of physical vehicle, vital-etheric, astral and mental vehicles, these too fade in time. So, for memory to be stored and carried over it must be stored or imprinted in the causal vehicle or in other words the dreamer. It cannot be material and made of matter. It probably cannot be stored like in a neural brain web. There must be some other mechanism.

It was suggested to me that when I encountered the Toltec Teachings this time around, I had had some prior, previous life training, because I picked them up quickly. My memory was in a way restored and grounded into the physical vehicle. Those teachings once again became mind resident. I could hypothesise that a similar thing happened with Buddhism. It is unlikely that the detail is stored but the propensity might be. I suspect that tulkus who undergo training at the monastery are having their memory restored and I guess that the training is warp speed and relentless.

I have done a lot of working, dreaming practise and the master in the heart med., to encourage a linkage with my causal vehicle or dreamer and to hand over control of the steering wheel, so to speak, to it.

I have read a lot of esoteric stuff and it seemed to stick quickly. In reading some of the published material on say kabala, I know that it is both wrongly presented and inaccurately explained, there is a lot of wishful thinking and flowery extrapolation. As a test I once went through one of Crowley’s extensive tabulations of correspondences, intuitively I could see that much made sense and corresponded but that there were glaring errors.

I am a trained researcher of some intellect. My pattern recognition is good.

I’ll speculate that in order for “memory” to be stored in anyway in the causal vehicle the personality vehicle must be on the way to or already partially Soul infused. The more the Soul infusion has taken place the more likely there is a capacity to encode “memory” into the causal vehicle. If someone has worked at Soul infusion then it is more likely that in a subsequent incarnation, they will seek out the same teachings so as to finish the job, to pick up from where they left off.

In Buddhism there is the phenomenon of stream-entry, sotāpanna.

“The word sotāpanna literally means “one who entered (āpanna) the stream (sota), stream-enterer”, after a metaphor which calls the noble eightfold path a stream which leads to vast ocean, nibbāna. Entering the stream (sotāpatti) is the first of the four stages of enlightenment.”

Such a being would on each incarnation be becoming more and more Soul infused and then gain the so-called special knowledge of pubbe-nivāsanussati.

“Remember one’s former abodes” (pubbe-nivāsanussati), causal memory, that is, recalling one’s own past lives;”

One could say that there is textual and traditional precedent for such a thing to occur.

It is impossible to prove that I have memories from former abodes, because nobody alive in the same body today was alive when these “occurred”. With a Tibetan tulku, given that they reincarnate swiftly after death, it is possible that a being could experience someone, some Soul, in two different bodies.

I am wondering this morning if because humanity is so enamoured with its fancy machines and statistics that it is looking in the wrong place to understand memory. Looking elsewhere we might shed some light on dementia.


“and great strides have been made in neuroscience and cognitive psychology, but many of the exact mechanisms involved remain elusive.”

Future Schools of Meditation and Cwm Pennant.

Way back in november 2007 I visted the Cwm Pennant outdoors centre near Llanfihangel-y-pennant.

The lease was up for sale by Hillingdon Council but because there had been a lot of strange funding mechanisms the legal situation was complicted, the ongoing use of the centre was also regulated by the National Lottery funding. The council had also pissed off the locals who operated the kitchen and the office due to the uncertainty. Because I had a Cymru sticker on my car, I was welcome. We got talking and when they found out that some of my relatives were from a nearby village, the people were very helpful.

The idea was to take over this outdoor centre and turn it into a conference / retreat centre pointing towards an esoteric school.

The accomodation was rudimentary…

but the location beautiful…

A friend and I wrote a business plan, but when I did the cash projections even with some optimism it was not really viable…

Assassin’s Creed, Coypu and Pampas

Given the subject matter of yesterday’s dream it seemed only logical to watch the film Assassin’s Creed last night. In this the biological descendent of an assassin is put into a big electronic recapitulation gizmo so that the Templars can take him back to 1492 and find the whereabouts of the “apple”, suggesting that the memories of his forefathers are encoded in his genetics, and it should be possible to regress. There are a number of quasi-historical problems with the script. Unless the Templars went underground and thrived in secret, they had ceased to exist a number of centuries previous to 1492 but how else could the Americans get a USA angle in? The gist is that the Templars are working for a new world order in which they are the boss.

Anyway, I did, like in the film, re-enact the night of my accident, by dragging myself around the house.

Yesterday I did some repairs on the anti-Coypu fence around the pond. This morning the river is up, and the little bugger has undone some of my repair and left me some turds to say Hi. On the left you can see where it went in the water. The pond is pretty full and is now leaking quite a bit, probably due to that South American blighter. The repair we made works for low pond levels, but there is more to do tomorrow, to adjust for winter pond levels.

Early this year we took two trailers full of pampas out of the pampas grass. It has rewarded us with a nice display…

Malta, Sicily and Déjà Vu

The dream which I had this morning is consistent with the hypothesis of my putative life, two lifetimes ago. This life was based in France but had elements of travel to the Holy Land for purposes of crusade and the acquisition of knowledge.

In this lifetime I was an ordained priest, a scholar and also a trained warrior. I was very often accompanied by the same man who was my confidant and assistant. His name was Cédric. The life involved sailing from somewhere near Perpignan on occasion, but was based further North, in a green land and near a watermill. There was a small village, a church and a mill race. When the normal village priest was away on business, I would stand in for him at the church.

As a child when I flew from Zambia to boarding school in England it was customary and necessary to stop on the way for fuel. On my first such flight, barely aged 10 by a day or so, we landed in Malta at dawn. I woke my mother who was taking me that first time to school and remarked at the beauty of the dawn over Malta. I was also having a truly massive attack of déjà vu. Somehow, I knew this place. I have been back a couple of times as a tourist. It feels so darned familiar. A similar baseball bat strike of déjà vu hit me when I went to Erice in Sicily for the first time. Bam! I have been here before…Bam!

Visions possibly associated with this life broke through a little after the Buddhist ones. There was an arrival by sea to Malta. There was study on the misty mountain top at Erice. I was in some kind of liaison role and for whatever reason I was generally acceptable to both the “Arabs” and the Jewish kabbalists, from whom we sought knowledge.

All was fine until one time me and a small band of fellow travellers got captured by a rogue group and paraded through the town, virtually naked. They took our chain mail and our white tunics with the rosy cross. It was a sea-front town, a small port, which they had recently captured. Everywhere there were torches burning some kind of dense tar like substance. The smell was powerful, almost noxious, the noise of celebration and “music” was loud. They led us down to a beach. There was much argument about what to do with us. They tied us to makeshift wooden crosses. They lit a big fire on the beach. They then inverted the crosses and placed them in the sand. They only did a few of us like this. The others sat huddled, praying and watched.

They, our captors, danced around the fire whooping and hollering in victory. The smell of the tar, the bitumen, burning was intense. It was difficult to remain conscious upside down. So, I drifted in and out.

When they were bored of the dancing they came over to us swearing, mocking and cursing. My wounds sustained in the capture were unstitched and much blood had run out of me. They prodded us with spears to antagonise, not to puncture. Some whipped us. The frenzy of the torment raised up a notch and they started to break the skin. They slit my throat. I can feel it now.

Soon I was above the beach looking down. I could see the fires and the half-crazed victors. I saw them moving towards the others and then I looked up and there were stars. Lots of stars.

The smell was at last gone.

Plage de Trestraou

Tide is out these boats do trips around the seven islands…

pastel beach huts…

you can tell by the way I walk…stayin’ alive…

reflections in a wave

trippy sand… man

what submarine deal? A long way to sail in a dinghy

at full tilt…

beautiful impermanence

no vaccination certificate, no coffee for you!! This is 2021 don’t you know…

Medieval Vestment Dream 18-09-21

Here is this morning’s dream it is in stark contrast to the subject matter I was researching last night.

It feels like the 12th or 13th century. We are both on horseback, my companion and I. He is something like a batman to me. We are not wearing our usual uniform with the rose cross. We are simply adorned in chain mail and are carrying battle axes. Our swords are in scabbards around our belts. Under my mail I have a vestment which is a sacred relic. I explain to my companion that the best way to attack with a battle-axe is from slightly behind, one needs to manoeuvre the opposition to be in front by pulling back on the reigns of the horse.

We have to get the vestment over the border and into the protection of the bishopric. We are being pursued and our pursuers are gaining on us, but we are close to the border and the pursuers will not dare breech it. I decide that my companion needs to make a loud diversion whilst I slope off into the forest, there is a path known to me there which leads to a wall in which I can hide the vestment. My companion giddies up the horse and heads off into the distance making a lot of noise. I slip off the trail and into the wood quietly. Soon I pick up the path I know. I arrive at the clearing and by the wall I dismount. I am over the border and at the edge of the bishopric. I remove my mail and secrete the vestment in the wall. It is yellow and red and highly ornate. It is by way of a waistcoat to be worn over a priest’s robes. It is not mine, but it has been OK for me to carry it because I have been ordained.

As agreed, I rendezvous with my companion in the local town, and we go off to see the bishop there to acquire a guard of men and with which we will retrieve the garment. The setting feels like England, but it could well be Breton. It is green, verdant and pleasant.

When I awake this dream is very reminiscent of a lifetime two lifetimes ago.