When I first opened American Cosmic by D.W. Pasulka,
I expected a sociological exploration of UFO culture. What I found instead was
a spiritual odyssey — one that peeled back the veil between the material and
immaterial, the technological and the transcendent. Pasulka’s work is far more
than a study of modern belief; it is a revelation of how the human soul still
reaches for the heavens, even when cloaked in silicon, data, and coded light.
The book begins not in the skies, but on the ground — in the
twisting roads of Silicon Valley, where Pasulka rides with Jacques Vallée, a
man both scientist and mystic. Vallée’s quiet assertion that “there are many
secrets in this valley” feels less like a warning and more like a prophecy.
Silicon Valley is not just a hub of innovation; it has become a modern shrine.
The servers, the algorithms, the satellites — all are new temples of an old
yearning: to touch the infinite.
I could not help but read this through my own spiritual
lens. I have long believed that the divine hides itself in the material, that
consciousness and creation are intertwined expressions of one cosmic
intelligence. To me, Vallée and Pasulka were not driving through a valley of
code and commerce; they were gliding through a sacred topography — one where
humanity’s technological ambition mirrors our forgotten divinity.
The Invisible Tyler D. — Prophet or Projection?
In the first chapter, Pasulka introduces us to Tyler D., a
mysterious aerospace engineer whose life reads like a modern gospel of
revelation. Tyler claims to receive inspiration — even technological blueprints
— from non-human intelligences. Pasulka treats him not as a crank, but as a
case study in how belief manifests. To her, he represents a new priesthood of
the postmodern world: engineers and scientists as mystics of the machine.
I found Tyler fascinating — not because of his supposed
contact experiences, but because of what he represents spiritually. He is the
archetype of humanity awakening to its role as co-creator. Just as ancient
prophets received visions in dreams or from angelic messengers, Tyler’s
revelations emerge through the circuitry of the modern mind. Pasulka, wisely,
does not ask us to believe or disbelieve him. She asks us to see how the sacred
continues to speak, even when the medium is technological rather than theological.
James and the Multiverse — Science as Scripture
The second chapter introduces James, another experiencer who
blends quantum physics, consciousness theory, and mystical insight. To some
readers, James may seem unhinged by his own brilliance, but to me, he embodies
a truth long ignored by orthodoxy: that the universe is mental, that thought is
the substrate of all that exists.
Pasulka follows James into discussions of parallel realities
and consciousness as a cosmic field. Though she writes as a scholar, she cannot
hide her awe — and neither could I. Reading this chapter felt like watching
Paul on Mars Hill, speaking to philosophers about an “unknown God,” except this
time the God was woven into quantum code.
I was reminded that the boundaries between science and
spirituality are artificial. Whether we call it “information,” “energy,” or
“Spirit,” the substance of reality is one. Pasulka’s gift is her ability to let
that unity shimmer without forcing the reader to kneel before it.
In the Field — Where the Virtual and the Real Collide
Pasulka’s fieldwork reveals the cost of encountering the
unknown. She meets people whose lives have been broken — marriages fractured,
reputations destroyed — all because they witnessed something that shattered
their sense of reality. Her description of the “virtual war” is haunting: how
belief itself can become a battlefield where human minds are both combatants
and casualties.
In my spiritual reading, this chapter exposes the shadow
side of revelation. To awaken is to risk madness; to glimpse the unseen is to
carry the burden of knowledge others cannot bear. The blood, as she says, is
real. Yet even in that pain, there is sanctity. It reminded me of the prophets
who saw the divine and trembled, or of Paul who said he “heard unspeakable
words.” Mystical revelation has always demanded a price — the loss of
certainty.
When Star Wars Became Real — The Mythic Mechanism of
Belief
Pasulka then turns to the media, to how films like Star
Wars have reshaped our cosmology. Here she becomes almost prophetic
herself, showing that Hollywood has become the new cathedral of imagination. We
are taught not to believe in angels, but in extraterrestrials; not in miracles,
but in advanced technology. Yet the archetypes are the same. The longing for
salvation, the encounter with higher intelligences, the battle between light
and darkness — these are eternal myths wearing digital clothes.
From my vantage, this chapter captures the esoteric truth
that myth and reality are reciprocal. As we imagine, so we manifest. Humanity
has always created its gods in the image of its aspirations. The ancient
pantheons emerged from agriculture and empire; our new deities emerge from
circuitry and code. Belief, as Pasulka shows, is not dying — it is migrating.
The Material Code — Quantum Souls and the Physics of
Spirit
Chapter five is where Pasulka wades into the most daring
territory: the intersection of consciousness and quantum information. She
suggests that the soul may have a material correlate — that information itself
could be the bridge between spirit and matter.
This struck a deep chord within me. I have long believed
that consciousness is not confined to the brain, that it pervades all of
creation. Quantum information may be science’s fledgling attempt to describe
what mystics have always known: that reality is a unified field of divine
intelligence. The body is not a prison for the soul; it is the instrument
through which the cosmic mind plays its symphony of experience.
Pasulka’s restraint here is admirable. She resists the
temptation to reduce spirituality to science or science to faith. Instead, she
lingers in the tension — a place I know well, where faith and reason orbit one
another like twin stars.
The Human Receiver — Contact as Communion
By Chapter six, Pasulka introduces the concept of the “human
receiver.” Some individuals, she suggests, are tuned to frequencies of
information that most cannot perceive. Whether these experiences are
neurological, spiritual, or both remains open.
This idea resonated deeply with me. Scripture, mysticism,
and even Hermetic thought agree that humanity is not merely flesh and blood but
antennae of divine consciousness. To receive higher frequencies is to
participate in the cosmic dialogue — to become, in essence, a prophet of the
new aeon.
Yet Pasulka’s brilliance lies in her compassion. She sees
the pain and confusion in those who experience such contact. She does not exalt
them as saints nor dismiss them as delusional. She recognizes the fragile
beauty of the human vessel that receives signals from eternity.
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