Reading The Super Natural: Why the Unexplained Is Real
is not like reading a conventional book about UFOs or paranormal encounters. It
is more like standing before a mirror that reflects both sky and soul. Written
by Whitley Strieber and Jeffrey Kripal, this text does not attempt to explain
the supernatural away. Instead, it insists that what we call “the unexplained”
may be the most honest expression of reality we have. It asks us to set aside
our mechanistic worldview and reimagine existence itself as participatory,
conscious, and mysteriously alive.
I approached this book already believing that spirit and
matter are not divided realms but two expressions of the same divine field. I
believe the cosmos itself is conscious, that we are fragments of divine
awareness awakening through experience. Strieber’s life of encounters and
Kripal’s disciplined mysticism meet precisely in that space — where
consciousness becomes the bridge between heaven and earth. The result is not
mere speculation; it is theology in motion.
The Already World
The opening chapter, “The Already World,” establishes the
ground of revelation. Strieber and Kripal remind us that the “super natural” is
not something outside of nature but the fuller expression of it. The world
already contains its mysteries; we are simply trained not to see them. That
notion echoes something deep within me — the Gnostic sense that the veil is not
imposed by God but by forgetfulness. The divine world already exists here;
apocalypse means not destruction but unveiling.
As I read, I thought of Paul’s line that creation “groans in
travail” awaiting revelation. This “already world” is the womb of the divine,
carrying hidden potential. Kripal and Strieber together make the bold claim
that the miraculous is our natural state — if only we awaken to it.
Into the Woods
This chapter evokes the ancient motif of descent — into
darkness, into the unknown. The forest becomes the archetype of transformation,
echoing the mythic journeys of prophets and shamans. Strieber recounts his
otherworldly experiences not as tidy reports but as moments of psychic
dismemberment. He enters the woods of consciousness, where categories dissolve.
I resonated deeply with this. My own spiritual path has
included similar descents — moments where the old self fractures to make room
for the infinite Self. The authors suggest that these encounters are not
aberrations but initiations. “Into the Woods” is the modern Dark Night of
the Soul, where the supernatural intrudes not to terrify but to reconfigure
perception.
Making the Cut
Here, the language becomes visceral. The “cut” is the point
of rupture between worlds — the incision through which the transcendent bleeds
into the material. The authors describe it as a wound, but also as an opening.
I read it as the cruciform pattern woven into existence itself: death and
resurrection, rupture and renewal. Every mystical experience bears this duality
— pain and illumination interwoven.
From my own theological lens, “making the cut” is the
process of transformation Paul described as “putting off the old man.” The ego
must be opened for the divine to enter. Kripal and Strieber interpret their
experiences through psychoanalytic, mythic, and mystical frames, yet the core
truth remains: revelation always costs something.
The Blue Man Group — the Other One
This strange, poetic title conceals a profound insight. The
“Blue Man” refers to the numinous Other — the presence that both frightens and
enlightens. The authors explore the paradox of contact: how the alien or
angelic often arrives wrapped in fear, only to later unveil wisdom.
To me, the “Blue Man” is an image of the Christos —
the luminous being of light that meets humanity in every age under different
guises. The divine encounter must adapt to the consciousness of the
experiencer. Where one sees an alien, another sees an angel; where one sees
terror, another sees transfiguration. The experience itself transcends
category.
A Context in the Sky
Here, Kripal stretches our cosmology beyond the empirical,
suggesting that consciousness itself may be the medium through which the
universe expresses meaning. Strieber’s encounters in the sky are not evidence
of extraterrestrial visitation alone but signs of the symbolic structure of the
cosmos — a grand conversation between matter and mind.
In my understanding, this “context in the sky” is the Logos
— the organizing intelligence of creation. Whether appearing as lights, beings,
or visions, these phenomena call humanity to remember its cosmic citizenship.
The sky has always been Scripture written in photons.
Lying in the Lap of the Goddess
This chapter introduces the feminine dimension of the
divine. Paschal suffering gives way here to sacred intimacy. Strieber
experiences the numinous as maternal — enveloping, sensual, and deeply
compassionate. For Kripal, this reawakens ancient goddess symbolism repressed
by patriarchal religion.
For me, this chapter resonated with the mystical union of
Spirit and Soul — the eternal dance of the masculine Logos and feminine Sophia.
In Christian esoteric thought, this is the divine marriage that gives birth to
awakening. “Lying in the Lap of the Goddess” reminds us that the cosmos is not
merely mechanical but maternal. The universe loves us into consciousness.
Pain and Super Sexualities
These two chapters must be read together. “Pain” explores
suffering as initiation; “Super Sexualities” interprets eros as a force of
transcendence. Strieber describes how contact experiences often evoke intense
physical and emotional responses — sometimes erotic, sometimes excruciating.
Kripal contextualizes this within mystical tradition: saints and shamans alike
have encountered God through passion, suffering, and ecstasy.
To the unenlightened mind, pain and pleasure seem opposites.
To the awakened consciousness, they are polarities of the same divine current.
I have long held that incarnation itself is erotic — Spirit desiring to know
itself through flesh. These chapters echo that truth beautifully.
Physical Traces, the Feral Boy, and The Magical Object
Midway through the book, the authors anchor their
metaphysics in matter. They discuss physical traces of encounters, anomalous
artifacts, and cases of feral children. The intention is not to prove the
supernatural but to show that it leaves fingerprints in the physical world.
What I see here is incarnation again: the divine leaves
traces because it is always entering form. The “magical object,” like a
sacrament, becomes a point of contact between dimensions. Whether it is a
communion wafer, a meteorite, or a mysterious implant, the meaning is the same
— matter remembers Spirit.
Cracking the Cosmic Egg
The title recalls Joseph Chilton Pearce, but Strieber and
Kripal push it further: the “egg” is the shell of ordinary perception. To crack
it is to awaken. For me, this is pure mysticism — the veil rent, the mind
transfigured. The apocalypse, rightly understood, is not the end of the world
but the end of illusion.
This chapter might be the heart of the book. Once the cosmic
egg breaks, the self realizes it was never confined. The supernatural ceases to
be “out there” and becomes the natural expression of awakened being.
Trauma, Trance, and Transcendence
The authors wisely link trauma and revelation. Both rupture
the ego’s stability. Both open portals. Trauma can destroy, but it can also
transmute. When met with consciousness and grace, it becomes initiation.
I have often said that pain is the doorway to remembrance.
The cross is both trauma and transcendence. Here, Strieber and Kripal show that
the same pattern recurs in modern encounters. The divine often breaks us before
it blesses us.
Haunted, The Soul Is a UFO, and Mythmaking
In these chapters, the book’s theme crystallizes: the
supernatural is not foreign — it is the mirror of the soul. “The Soul Is a UFO”
is a striking metaphor: just as UFOs appear and vanish at the edge of
perception, so the soul hovers between worlds. We are the unexplained
phenomenon we chase.
“Mythmaking” follows naturally. The authors show that our
experiences demand narrative; mythology is how consciousness metabolizes the
infinite. The myths we create are not lies but living symbols, gateways through
which the numinous enters human language.
Shifting the Conversation and The Mythical Object
By the final chapters, the dialogue between Strieber and
Kripal has matured into synthesis. The “mythical object” is the interface of
consciousness and creation — the point where symbol becomes substance. To
“shift the conversation” means to stop debating whether these things are real
and begin asking what they reveal.
That is where this book triumphs. It moves us from argument
to awareness, from proof to participation. It invites us to become co-authors
of the mythic universe.
The Appendix: Making the Supernatural Super Natural
The appendix offers practical reflections on how to
“naturalize” the supernatural — not by reducing it, but by expanding our
definition of the real. This aligns perfectly with my own conviction that we
live within a holographic cosmos of divine consciousness. To make the
supernatural natural is to remember our true nature as eternal awareness
playing in form.
Final Reflection
The Super Natural is one of those rare books that
bridges science, spirituality, and mythology without losing reverence.
Strieber’s visionary experiences and Kripal’s theological rigor create a
tapestry that speaks to both heart and intellect.
For me, this book reaffirms that the apocalypse — the
unveiling — is already underway. Humanity stands on the threshold of
remembering that we are multidimensional beings, children of the Infinite
exploring itself through time and flesh. The supernatural is not an anomaly; it
is our forgotten inheritance.
Strieber and Kripal have given language to what mystics have
known for millennia: the universe is alive, and it longs to be known through
us. To read this book is to feel the veil thinning — to sense that every rustle
of wind, every flicker of light, every dream and encounter whispers the same
truth:
The divine is nearer than breath, and the supernatural is
simply the super-conscious remembering itself through the human soul.
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