Stories That Defy Science – Part One
Our world is filled with material objects. These objects have been found by science to exist in certain relationships with one another. From an analysis of these relationships we have built up our scientific laws.
We have learned to explain the action of light, the process of heat, and the force which attract magnets to one another. Western technological civilization has been built upon the practical application of these relationships.
And because the manufactured objects which this technology has produced exist in themselves, they have become evidential proof of the validity of these laws.
Our concept of electricity is reinforced every time a bolt of lightning strikes the earth, or when we operate elevators or appliances. The force of gravity, which allegedly caused an apple to caress the head of Newton, is verified every time we hit a baseball in the air.
Nature too obeys these laws, for we warm ourselves at night beside log fires which convert the kinetic energy stored within the atoms and molecules of the wood into heat.
Our three-dimensional world seems very secure, and the scientific laws which explain the way it works seem as solid as the ground beneath our feet. Our world seems very real, for we have sensed it so, and our scientific knowledge has confirmed our faith.
Yet there are occasions in life when mysterious events occur which seem to defy the solid foundation of our beliefs. Because scientists are not able to explain these events within their normal definition of reality, they tend to lump them together as examples of things that are beyond the normal – the paranormal.
It is these strange events of the paranormal, most commonly described in anecdotal form, that are the keys to a new understanding of reality. They are occurrences that caused the 18th century British astronomer William Herschel to admit that “according to received theories these events ought not to happen.”
Yet they do happen, and they continue to happen. But if we examine them carefully, we will find that they become the facts upon which a new view of reality can be built. This new concept of reality becomes pregnant with power, for it offers up the possibility that we may in fact be able to bend reality according to our will.
Here are a few examples of strange events that defy our normal understanding of reality.
Air Marshall Sir Victor Goddard graduated in science from Cambridge University, and subsequently obtained a post-graduate degree in aeronautical engineering.
In 1918 he became a founder member of the Royal Air Force and Captain of the Airship R.36. In 1935 he was appointed Deputy Director of Air Intelligence in the Air Ministry.
In that same year, Goddard flew to Scotland where he intended to play a round of golf at Gullane by the river Forth. Not far from Gullane was a derelict airfield that had not been used since the first World War and had since been converted into a farm.
It was called Drem. Since he was in the neighbourhood, Goddard decided to drive to Drem to visit the owner of the farm. He wanted to see if it could still be used to land light aircraft in case he came again.
“I found the old air-field divided into many separate pastures by barbed wire, each being well populated with sheep or cattle, and one with pigs. The hangars were then nearing dereliction; they were all in use, as barns for hay and farm machinery, cow byres and chicken runs. It certainly was no longer a fit place for a landing or for housing any kind of aeroplane.”
On the following day, less than sixteen hours later, Goddard flew south from Scotland. The weather was bad. Heavy clouds hung close to the ground and the sky was darkened by pelting rain. Seeking to establish his position, he flew low to the ground. Through the dismal gloom he was able to make out the misty silhouettes of hangars which he thought he recognized.
“Yes, this was Drem airfield, right enough. I recognized the hangars as I crossed the boundary fence at less than thirty feet in driving rain. Then suddenly the scene was lit with brilliant light which I supposed was sunshine.
“The airfield was clear, new-mown and clean, the nearest hangar doors were open and on the tarmac apron, wet from recent rain, stood, parked, four aeroplanes – three biplanes (Avro 504s) and then a monoplane of unknown type.
“Emerging through the hangar doors there was a second monoplane being pushed by two mechanics, one on the tail, one on the starboard wing. All five machines were brilliant yellow chrome. The mechanics who were there, attending them, were all in dungarees of blue.”
Now there were no yellow aeroplanes in service in 1935, nor were there any monoplanes. The mechanics of that time wore brown overalls. But what astonished Goddard most in this extraordinary scene was the complete indifference of the men on the ground to his presence a mere thirty feet above them.
“Not one of them looked up. But they were real men. The unreality to them must then have been myself and my quite physical conveyance. No airman anywhere, on any tarmac in the world – that is, the world we think we know – could then have failed to look at me had I been there for him to see and had my roaring Hawker Hart been there for him to hear. Those airmen did not pay the slightest heed to me or it.”
Goddard sped past the four hangars, and as he cleared the last of these newly renovated buildings, he plunged again into the driving rain. In 1939, with the onset of hostilities brought about by Hitler’s Reich, Drem airfield reopened as a flying training school. It was supplied with yellow Avro 504s and Magisters.
The Magister was a new trainer – a monoplane. It was the exact replica of the monoplane Goddard had seen on that stormy day four years before. None had existed in 1935. Meanwhile, the airmen’s overalls had also been changed. They were no longer brown, but blue.
Air Marshall Goddard may have had a vision of Drem airfield in 1935 in which he foresaw the future as it would turn out to be four years later. Yet there was one small flaw. The renovated hangars that he saw in his vision were made of brick, as they had been built originally.
In 1938 they were actually rebuilt in steel. However, when the plans for the renovation were initially drawn up, it was the intention of the planners to leave the brick structures unchanged. They were later overruled. 1
In 1933, Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung travelled to Ravenna in northern Italy. Together with a lady friend he visited the tomb of Galla Placidia, a fifth century Empress of high class who had had the misfortune to be married to a barbarian prince.
After seeing the tomb, the two of them proceeded into the Baptistery of the Orthodox. As Jung entered the baptistery, he was confronted by a strange phenomenon.
“Here, what struck me first was the mild blue light that filled the room; yet I did not wonder about this at all. I did not try to account for its source, and so the wonder of this light without any visible source did not trouble me.”
As he gazed around the room, Jung was surprised to see that on each wall was a mosaic fresco of incredible beauty. This was astonishing because on his original visit twenty years earlier, he recalled seeing windows where the frescoes could now be seen. He was vexed to find his memory so unreliable.
“The mosaic on the south side represented the baptism in the Jordan; the second picture, on the north, was of the passage of the children of Israel through the Red Sea; the third, on the east, soon faded from my memory.
“The fourth mosaic, on the west side of the baptistery, was the most impressive of all. We looked at this one last. It represented Christ holding out his hand to Peter, who was sinking beneath the waves.”
Jung and his lady-friend stopped in front of this last mosaic for about twenty minutes, discussing the ritual of baptism, before leaving the baptistery. Jung was so struck by the beauty of these mosaics that he sought to obtain photographs of them. But time was short, and he thought he might be able to order the pictures from Zurich.
When he returned home, he asked a friend who was going to Ravenna to get pictures of these mosaics for him. When his friend returned from Ravenna, he said that he had been unable to locate them. He said that the mosaics that Jung had described to him did not exist! As Jung recalled in his memoirs:
“This experience in Ravenna is among the most curious events in my life. The actual walls of the baptistery, though they must have been seen by my physical eyes, were covered over by a vision of some altogether different sight which was as completely real as the unchanged baptismal font. Which was real at that moment?”
Jung was able to establish that the lady-friend who had accompanied him to the baptistery had seen the same main features of the mosaics. She subsequently refused to believe that what she had seen “with her own eyes” had not existed. Jung added:
“To be sure, it is not a fact which can be scientifically verified and therefore finds no place in an official view of the world. Yet it nevertheless remains a fact which is in practice uncommonly important and fraught with consequences.”
There remains one curious twist to this story. During a stormy crossing from Byzantium to Ravenna in the middle of winter, the Empress Galla Placidia is alleged to have made a vow that if she survived the crossing, she would build a church and have the perils of the sea represented in it. 2
It was Christmas 1960. Tienie Groenewald and his wife Judy, who had recently married, decided to spend the festive season with Judy’s parents. At the time Tienie was a pilot stationed at the Langebaan Air Force base, located just north of Cape Town in South Africa.
Judy’s parents lived in Port Shepstone, a seaside village on the Natal coast, some 1200 miles (1900 kilometres) away. Tienie wrote to his father-in-law saying that he intended to leave Langebaan at about 7am on Saturday, and that he expected to reach Port Shepstone early on the Sunday morning. He was also looking forward to showing off his new car, which his in-laws had not yet seen.
As it happened, Tienie arrived home at about noon on the Friday. As they had already packed, he and Judy decided to begin their journey immediately, instead of waiting until the following day. As they did not have a telephone however, they were unable to warn their in-laws of their decision to leave earlier.
Tienie and Judy took turns in driving and motored throughout the night on their long overland journey. At about 10am on the Saturday morning, they had almost reached their destination. Judy looked forward to surprising her parents by arriving almost a full day earlier than planned.
Yet just as they reached the outskirts of Port Shepstone, she was astonished to see the familiar figure of her father waving to them from his van, which was parked on the side of the road.
As Tienie pulled up alongside the van, his father-in-law greeted them warmly saying, “You are right on time. When I left home a short while ago, I said to the wife, the kids will be here in fifteen minutes. When you get there,” he remarked smugly, “you’ll find the coffee waiting.”
Baffled by this unexpected welcome, Tienie asked him how he knew they would arrive almost a full day earlier. “It was easy”, came the reply, “I simply used my ‘grassie’.”
As he later explained to Tienie, “When I woke up this morning, I wondered whether you had left yet. So I took out my ‘grassie’ (a dried grass stalk that he used as a divining rod). Using a map I directed my thoughts at Langebaan, and asked if you were still there.
“To my surprise I got a negative response. Realizing that you were already on your way, I then focused my thoughts on various points along your route. Each time the answer to my mental question was negative. It was only when I tried just outside Port Shepstone that I got a positive response.
“Knowing that you would soon be here, I called out to the wife to put on the coffee, then jumped into my van and drove off to meet you. The rest you know.” 3
References
1 Victor Goddard, “Flight Towards Reality”, Turnstone, London, 1975, pp. 23-26 and p. 29.
2 Carl Jung, “Memories, Dreams, Reflections”, recorded and edited by A. Jaffe, Pantheon, New York, 1961, pp. 284-287.
3 Tienie Groenewald, personal communication.
