Array (  => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 9488 [post_author] => 3589 [post_date] => 2015-05-01 03:09:44 [post_date_gmt] => 2015-05-01 03:09:44 [post_content] => Since Carl Jung defined the word ‘synchronicity’ in the 1920s, it has become part of our everyday language. How many times have you heard someone describe a synchronistic experience they had, where something in their outer life seemed to be meaningfully connected to something on their mind? Though this sense of an interior connection to the outer world has deep roots in our history, the modern trend towards a more mechanistic worldview has tended to treat this belief as an outdated superstition. Jung’s theory of synchronicity was his attempt to put into modern language, and to validate, correlations he perceived between inner psychological experiences and the outer physical world. Along with Jung, scientists delving into the quantum realm were also seeing connections between mind and matter and between the inner and outer worlds. They were proposing similar mathematical models to explain these acausal connections. To this day there continues to be a gradual shifting across multiple fields of study towards revaluing the role of consciousness and meaning in the understanding of our reality. People all across different walks of life have embraced Jung’s concept of synchronicity, because it expresses something that is a common human experience. Perhaps the best-known story of synchronicity comes from Jung himself. He was having difficulty treating a young woman in his therapy practice due to her extreme rationalism. He had hoped that something unexpected or irrational would turn up in their sessions that would help her access her emotional side. He described sitting with her one day listening to her tell a story of a dream she’d had in which someone had given her a piece of jewelry in the shape of a golden scarab. While she was telling the dream, Jung heard the sound of an insect tapping on the outside of his window. He turned around and saw a large insect that seemed to be trying to get into the room. He opened the window and caught the insect as it flew inside. It was a scarabaeid beetle whose gold-green color highly resembled a golden scarab. He handed the beetle to his patient and said, “Here is your scarab.” He described how this directly meaningful and yet irrational experience was able to ‘puncture’ his client’s rationalism and allowed her therapy to proceed. Synchronicity is commonly defined as the occurrence of two or more events that appear to be meaningfully related but are not causally related—a meaningful coincidence. In the 1952 paper, “Synchronicity—an acausal connecting principle,” Jung first formally published his theory, proposing that synchronicity was a legitimate alternative to the materialistic, mechanistic worldview of modern science. He suggested that meaning is inherent in the universe and manifests in these connections between the inner and outer world. This idea elevates the importance of mind and subjective experience and thus flies in the face of the strictly materialistic, causal view that has been dominant in science for hundreds of years. Jung came to his understanding of synchronicity through his own exploration of consciousness, his study of paranormal phenomena, and working with clients. He refined the concept through conversations with the physicists Albert Einstein and Wolfgang Pauli. Advances in quantum physics were already stretching the plausibility of a strictly mechanistic model. Jung believed there were parallels between synchronicity and aspects of relativity theory and quantum mechanics. In the book, Synchronicity—the Marriage of Matter and Psyche, F. David Peat describes how the synchronistic principle may offer us a bridge between psychology and physics. In his book, Peat shared one of his own personal experiences. He and his wife had moved to Italy with all their possessions in 1994. Some boxes of letters and papers remained in storage until 2011, when his wife decided to sort through them. In the boxes she found a number of audiocassettes of an old school friend of Peat’s, Stuart Ogilvie. On New Year’s Eve, Peat listened to the tapes, which made him laugh and reminded him of his friend. As he looked at that year’s Christmas card from the Ogilvie’s, he remarked how the tapes had brought Stuart totally to life. The next morning when Peat switched on his computer, there was an e-mail from Stuart’s son informing him that his father had died in the night. This event was emotionally staggering for Peat due to the timing and the remark he’d made about bringing his friend to life. Peat believes what makes an experience like this truly a synchronicity is its profound meaningfulness. He believes similar events without the emotional impact are simply astounding coincidences. He also believes that because of the meaningfulness of the experience, it is different than an ESP or precognitive experience. Some argue that the inner experience of synchronicity could be a direct intuition or precognition, a precognitive sensing of an outer experience. Though that may be splitting hairs, all of these phenomena—intuition, ESP, or synchronicity—seem to indicate some kind of otherwise unexplainable connection. With synchronicity it is the meaningfulness of it that is key. Jung believed that a profound synchronicity could have the effect of shifting a person’s egocentric focus to that of greater wholeness, triggering a peak experience or a spiritual awakening. There is also the experience of having an intimate connection to the physical world that gives these experiences a mystical sense. Jung and Pauli both used the Latin term Unus Mundus or the “one world,” which refers to some sort of timeless order out of which the two aspects of reality—psychic and physical—arise. As I mentioned in the last issue of Atlantis Rising, in the article on Akasha, there is a trend in science to see the need for a unifying principle that does include mind and consciousness. While there are many who still dismiss any theory of reality that suggests meaning or consciousness is primary, as ‘new age’ or ‘pseudo science,’ the interior experience was once considered an important part of rational scientific inquiry. For example, both Pythagoras and Plato practiced applying reason, experimental method, and mathematics, yet also valued the meaning in omens, in dreams, and in direct mystical experience. During the Middle Ages, and before the rise of materialistic science, people spoke of sympathies and harmonies in the outer world and our place in it. It was the time when “like attracts like.” If one thing looked similar to another, then there was a connection between them, which is still seen today in homeopathy with its Law of Similars. There was also the notion of a pre-established harmony in the world. Early serious astrologers by no means believed that the stars caused events on Earth. They felt there was a harmony or correspondence between events in the heavens, on Earth and even within the stirrings of our own hearts and minds—a case of “as above, so below.” This is similar to the ancient Eastern beliefs that “things happen together” and the related understandings of Feng Shui and the Tao. Synchronicity gives a modern framework for the connection between ourselves and the universe. Several different quantum physicists have proposed theories to unify mind and matter. Irvin Laszlo’s Akasha paradigm, which builds on ancient Hindu philosophy, suggests a non-local, mind-like field that connects the physical world and living systems and allows for otherwise unexplainable, acausal phenomena. The quantum physicist David Bohm proposed an explicate order, as the surface reality of the universe, and a deeper implicate order. In this theory, reality is dynamically changing. Aspects in the implicate unfold into the explicate and back again, so that the things that appear distinct and separate are in fact interconnected in the implicate. Bohm suggested that though we distinguish between mind and matter in the explicate order, in the implicate, they are one and the same. It’s this interconnection which manifests in synchronicity. In conversations with Jung, the physicist Wolfgang Pauli expressed his enthusiasm for the synchronistic theory, although he differed from Jung in his belief that synchronicity could happen years apart. Pauli shared Jung’s view that synchronicity could be a valuable bridge between physics and psychology in a way that the subjective could be brought into physics and the objective into psychology. He felt that the subjective and objective revealed different aspects of the same underlying phenomena and that the subjective side of matter had been lacking from modern science. As with Jung, Pauli also was intent on developing a language that could be used to discuss both physics and psychology, in the same way the language of alchemy could apply to both chemical and psychological changes. Pauli spent years working through his dreams and active imagination with images of the aspects of physics, such as atoms, lines of forces, and electrons, all of which he believed were correlated with psychology. He saw the complementarity between waves and particles in quantum theory as similar to conscious and unconscious states in the psyche. In one dream, Einstein came to Pauli and said that quantum theory was one-dimensional but reality was two-dimensional. Pauli thought that the missing dimension was the unconscious and the archetypes Jung postulated. David Bohm similarly searched for a better language to describe the quantum realm. He explored several Native American languages, which seemed particularly well suited for describing quantum reality. Following up on the work of the Yale scientist Benjamin Whorf who had studied the Hopi and Blackfoot languages, Bohm convened a meeting between linguists, physicists, and Native American elders. These native languages, being verb-based, unlike English, which is noun/object based, are particularly suitable for describing processes and the dynamic interactions of quantum physics, as well as the inner experience of consciousness. Perhaps it’s no surprise that the worldview these languages arise from embraces a more indigenous, shamanistic perspective of interconnection between the inner and the outer. As part of Jung’s journey towards the language of synchronicity, he studied the I Ching, the ancient Chinese divination text. The I Ching is based on the connection between the outer world and the inner and the spontaneous, acausal creativity of the moment. Jung concluded that synchronism was the prejudice of the East and causality was the prejudice of the west. He said, “Synchronicity is no more baffling or mysterious than the discontinuities of physics. It is only the ingrained belief in the sovereign power of causality that creates intellectual difficulties and makes it appear unthinkable that causeless events exist or could ever exist.” Jung felt that all the acausal manifestations in our lives, from oracular devices like the I Ching to intuition, and even the expression of archetypal energies, were essentially creative acts, arising without a mechanistic cause. Jung certainly held a process-oriented view, similar to that of the quantum realm where the archetypes he proposed expressed the timeless creative energies of the universe and gave meaning to our lives. The Buddhist practitioner and writer Paul Levy suggests that synchronicity reveals that our waking life is in some ways similar to our dreaming life, “Being ‘nonlocal’, which is to say not bound by the conventional laws of space and time, as well as being multidimensional, the deeper, dreaming Self can simultaneously express itself through inner experiences such as inspirations and dreams as well as by attracting events in the seemingly outer world so as to coagulate itself in embodied form.” Levy suggests that it was an implicit dreaming self that was expressed simultaneously as the woman who dreamed the scarab beetle, Jung himself responding to the beetle, the beetle itself, the inspiration to tell Jung the dream, and Jung’s impulse to open the window and catch the beetle. At the level of Bohm’s implicit structure, all of these elements were united and the seemingly separate elements were all part of the same expression in the explicit world. Levy also suggests that synchronicities, by their very nature, demand our active participation. Since they are an expression of some kind of creation that is happening, they offer us the opportunity to be aware that we are playing an active, participatory role in the universe’s unfolding. From an indigenous perspective of one living in the consciousness of interconnection, synchronicity may not seem as radical or world-shaking. The Chippewa-Cree medicine man was known to have had an affinity with the weather. When the day came for my friend India’s daughter to get married, it was raining steadily with heavy, grey clouds and the forecast for the whole day was 100% chance of rain. India asked Pat if he could do something about the rain for her daughter’s ceremony. He said he would do what he could, and went into one of the buildings to be by himself. At the time of the ceremony, to everyone’s surprise, the rain stopped, the clouds parted and the sun shone briefly. After the ceremony, the rain started again and continued through the night. Pat would never say that he made the rain stop, though he wasn’t surprised that it did. Other shamans have described the process of balancing themselves in a particular place in order to bring about a change in the outer world. The attunement to the natural world is an active way of focusing the power of synchronicity for those who live in that kind of connection. Skeptics of synchronicity claim that standard, mechanistic science, statistics and probability are sufficient to explain synchronistic events, claiming that even highly unlikely events like the momentary cessation of the rain are normal events of low probability. Others suggest it is the confirmation bias, our tendency to look for and only see information that confirms our preconceptions. For example, we don’t notice the time we listen to someone’s dream about a scarab and nothing is tapping at the window. There is also the term ‘apophenia,’ which is defined as the “unmotivated seeing of connections” accompanied by a “specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness.” I find it amusing how this term is used to label the experience of deeper meaning as an abnormality. As with Jung’s statement of causality being the norm, such meaningfulness is abnormal in the dominant worldview. Carolyn North, author of Synchronicity: The Anatomy of Coincidence, says, “It gives us a sense of hope, a sense that something bigger is happening out there than what we can see, which is especially important in times like this when there are so many reasons for despair.” Skeptics would say that this hope is irrational and that the meaningfulness and connection is all an illusion. At the same time, many people feel their lives are full of meaning and deeper connection to the world around them. This has been the belief of many indigenous cultures for millennia. Cutting-edge science suggests the supposed isolation and separation of one object from another doesn’t exist. Quantum physics is showing how at deeper levels everything from atoms and cells to plants and animals participate in a living web of information that may all be interconnected at an implicit level. So perhaps the profound sense of meaning we experience in a synchronistic moment is the expression of a timeless creative moment that is more than ego or simple physical causes. Perhaps the transformation that these experiences can induce can help us recover a greater connection to the world. Patrick Marsolek is the author of Transform Yourself: A Self-Hypnosis Manual and A Joyful Intuition. See http://www.PatrickMarsolek.com for more information. [post_title] => The Synchronicity Phenomenon [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => closed [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => the-synchronicity-phenomenon [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2015-04-07 03:18:11 [post_modified_gmt] => 2015-04-07 03:18:11 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://atlantisrisingmagazine.com/?p=9488 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw )  => stdClass Object ( [ID] => 9469 [post_author] => 3589 [post_date] => 2015-05-01 02:41:09 [post_date_gmt] => 2015-05-01 02:41:09 [post_content] => CAPTIONS: One of the few white marble tablets from Burrows Cave. Two characters at bottom are Egyptian hieroglyphics for the word pet, or “heaven.” Russell Burrows displays some of the gold objects he removed from the southern Illinois cave. In 1982, Russell E. Burrows was trolling alone among the sparsely inhabited hills and fields in southern Illinois, twenty miles from the Ohio River. The amateur treasure hunter, originally from West Virginia, would later claim to have been searching for Civil War-era buckles, pioneer horseshoes, or old coins, with his metal detector, when he supposedly fell into a large, overgrown hole. The subterranean interior, he would say, connected to a corridor and series of man-made chambers filled with a vast and bewildering array of black river stones (known as argillite), white marble, and sandstone engraved predominantly with the portraits of men attired in the garb of ancient Rome, Judea, Carthage, and West Africa. Other stones were covered with Christian themes and a mix of inscriptions in hieroglyphic Egyptian, Hebrew, Numidian (ancient North African), Ogham (Keltic), and North Semitic (a form of Phoenician). Similar imagery appeared on a cache of gold coins and bars. Over the next seven years, Burrows removed large numbers of these items, selling them mostly to amateur antiquarians, but was accused by many of engaging in a transparent fraud. While mainstream scholars—convinced that no one from the ancient (old) world arrived in America before Columbus—dismissed the collection out of hand as a bunch self-evident fakes, debate concerning their prehistoric authenticity still rages among many amateur archaeologists, who are, themselves, deeply divided about the real provenance of the “cave” artifacts. This uncertainty was chiefly instigated by Burrows himself, who steadfastly refused to reveal the site of his cave for independent verification, a reluctance that quite naturally cast serious doubt on the veracity of his claims. After seven years of independent research, Wayne May, publisher of Ancient American magazine (Colfax, WI), decided to initiate professional excavations near Richmond County’s Embrarras River, which, he concluded, was the most likely site of Burrows Cave. But after making some promising finds, however, May was forced to discontinue his project for want of financial support, a result of the 2008 recession. About the same time, Bear and Company (Rochester, VT) published my book, The Lost Treasure of King Juba, which described the disparate objects allegedly removed from the unidentified site as possible evidence for Roman Era colonizers. These were, I argued, refugees from Emperor Caligula’s invasion of Mauretania, a quasi-independent kingdom in North Africa comprising territories equivalent to modern Morocco and western Algeria. Juba II (52 BC–AD 23) was a Mauretanian monarch who amassed great wealth coveted by the bankrupt Caesar. Caligula’s imperial legions, on entering the mausoleum containing the King’s treasures, found it empty. Perhaps, I speculated, these riches had been spirited across the ocean to North America. At that time—AD the first century—the Mauretanians were skilled mariners, while our continent was one, vast battlefield of intertribal warfare, save only for part of what is now southern Illinois, where Burrows Cave was said to be found. Since my book’s publication twelve years ago, new light from various sources has been shed on its still unresolved subject matter. Among the new investigators is Scott Wolter, a university-trained forensic geologist, who subjected several of the alleged artifacts to careful study at his award-winning laboratory in St. Paul, Minnesota. He is also the host of a History Channel series, Ancient America Unearthed. While scrutinizing several engraved blocks of white marble from the cave, Wolter discovered that their reverse sides were faintly, but discernibly, carved with Anglo-Saxon names, brief inscriptions in mid-nineteenth century English, along with dates and places of birth and death, together with Christian crosses. They were tombstones from the early to mid-1800s. He and other investigators concluded that someone had stolen badly weathered headstones from an old, southern Illinois cemetery to carve Roman-like imagery on their backsides. Case closed, or maybe not. On further reflection, the apparent exposure of fraud seemed less clear. Skeptics pointed out that nineteenth-century stonecutters might just as well have stumbled upon some of the anciently engraved slabs in a farmer’s field and exploited the otherwise costly marble for use as grave markers. Such a possibility seemed more plausible to long-term followers of the cave controversy, who recalled that as far back as in the early 1990s, critics of the cave’s self-styled discoverer had noted the resemblance of his carved tablets to tombstones. The point is, if, in fact, these particular stones, engraved with the profiles of helmeted warriors and ancient script, had been recycled as headstones 170 or more years ago, as suggested by the dates on their surfaces, then they could not have been faked in modern times. Unfortunately, there was no way to know for sure, one way or the other. These nineteenth-century associations seemed to be corroborated by local but unrelated farmers, whose continuous family roots in the area went back to the days of its first modern settlers. When word of Burrows Cave began to spread throughout the region during the late 1980s, a few senior residents recalled how they and their forebears occasionally unearthed similarly illustrated stones while plowing wheat fields. Sometimes, the peculiar objects were kept as curiosities or traded with neighbors but, more often, discarded. These multigenerational inhabitants remember how their grandparents believed that the peculiar artifacts had been used by practitioners of a black-magic cult said to have conducted secret rituals in Richmond County caves during the 1880s and 90s. While efforts to verify the prior existence of such a group came to nothing, satanic ceremonies and sacrificial activities reportedly occur to this day in rural southern Illinois and, indeed, at least a few Burrows Cave-like stones have surfaced beyond the Embrarras River—most notably, the so-called “Bird-Man Tablet,” found east of the city of St. Louis, just across the Mississippi River in Collinsville, Illinois, at Cahokia, where a large ceremonial center that flourished during the tenth and eleventh centuries AD. Radiocarbon dating of charcoal found at the base of the lobe or stump associated with the tablet found inside Monks Mound—a colossal step pyramid—yielded an approximate date of AD 1310. Discovered in 1971—more than ten years before Russell Burrows first entered his cave—the image on the front of the sandstone depicts a human dressed in eagle or falcon regalia. As such, the Bird Man stone—92 mm long, 62mm wide, and 17mm thick—physically and stylistically resembles Burrows Cave objects. Excluding the lithic Bird Man and a half dozen or more, similar-sized sandstone tablets found near Cahokia and around Madison County’s Horseshoe Lake, nine miles north of Monks Mound, precisely how many illustrated stones have been associated with Burrows Cave? Estimates ranged from a few dozen to tens of thousands. To calculate a realistic figure, Scott Wolter, Wayne May, and I tallied up all our information concerning Burrows’ customers, compiling the total number of their verified purchases. Unable to track down every, individual object, we could not arrive at a precise determination but did account for around three thousand known artifacts, six thousand less than cited in my book. This number is, nevertheless, still far too great for any single hoaxster—or even a group of forgers—to mass-produce. This conclusion is especially credible given the stones’ sometimes lengthy, complex texts in at least five, different, written languages and the often-high artistic quality of the portraits themselves. It was, in fact, their frequently visual excellence that particularly attracted the recent attention of Jill Baker. The award-winning painter, illustrator and teacher at the University of Southern Indiana, Evansville, closely studied Burrows Cave imagery, which she easily recognized as the diverse work of not a few, but many different artists. It was clear, then, that most of the numerous depictions were not simply knocked out by untrained craftsmen, but could only have been carefully carved in the hard argillite by skilled hands. Baker’s research went beyond artistic considerations to the making of a startling deduction: Burrows Cave never existed. Her diligent, personal investigations led back to an old, agricultural estate in southern Illinois. It was here that she learned how Lowery farmstead family members, as long ago as the late nineteenth century, were perplexed by a large, undetermined number of shallow pits pock-marking their land. Inside the irregularly spaced depressions were found caches of mostly black stones inscribed with strange writing and emblazoned with the faces of strange men wearing unfamiliar headgear. Generations of Lowerys regarded these “Indian stones” with superstitious dread and had little personally to do with them. Rumors, nonetheless, spread locally of these mysterious objects, which were eventually featured in a treasure-hunting magazine of the 1920s, according to Kent Christon, antiquarian and lecturer at an alternative archaeology conference held in Washington, Indiana—thirty-four miles, incidentally, from the suspected location of Burrows Cave—last November. It was from a pertinent issue of this old periodical, Christon stated, that Russell Burrows, himself an avid treasure hunter, learned about the Lowery farm pits, from which he extracted and purchased the artifacts. The farm in question and its many pits—all of them empty now—still exists. The story of its pits may provide an alternative explanation to the “cave,” which Mr. Burrows declined to disclose since he began selling its artifacts in the early 1980s. Or, as other investigators, such as Wayne May, argue, the Lowery site might be an additional source for such objects, which have, as described above, been discovered in other parts of southern Illinois. Before being shut down for lack of funding, May’s forty-foot-tall tractor-rig was positioned by crewmembers above the suspected site and did, in fact, sink a drill bit into an almost perfectly square, stone chamber. Unfortunately, whatever it may once have contained had been flushed out years before by the rushing waters of the nearby Embrarras River. The disappointed researchers concluded that a gunpowder explosion set off too close to the site in late 1989 had ruptured an adjacent aquifer, flooding the chamber to its ceiling. That this artificial, subterranean room had been identified as a possible location for Burrows Cave served to encourage May and his crew. Since Wayne May’s drill found its mark, there have been other suggestions of less dramatic, but no less revealing, character. May has since obtained an unlikely subgroup of the Burrows Cave collection, comprised of small, polished, dark stone, human figures, occasionally nude, but mostly dressed in what appear to be humble clothes. Carved with contiguous imagery on either side, the objects seem to have served, not ritual purposes, but also, as toys; specifically, dolls, each averaging about four to five inches in length. There are between fifty to seventy of them, sometimes comically portrayed as grumpy-looking laundresses or washer-women, hefting bags of clothes over their shoulders, or engaged in similarly arduous, everyday chores. Three, larger specimens are yellowish-brown sandstone carved in the round. The charming simplicity of these little models suggests authenticity to some. They also comprise the only known physical references to children throughout the whole assemblage of Burrows Cave materials. After all, the few, university-trained scientists brave enough to risk the ire of their colleagues by speaking out publicly on behalf of the ancient provenance of these and related artifacts were convinced that the body of the site’s material evidence belonged to Roman Era refugees from North Africa, which must have included their children. James P. Scherz, professor of civil engineering from the University of Wisconsin, in Madison, and a leading archaeoastronomer; Wake Forest University’s professor of history in North Carolina; Dr. Warren Cook, professor of history and anthropology at Vermont’s Castleton State College; and Dr. Joseph Mahan, professor of history at the University of Georgia, in Columbus—have all stated that a neo-Mauretanian colony established itself nearly two thousand years ago in down-state Illinois. Its southern-most frontier was set up against the violent incursions of native American tribal peoples—perhaps, at least partially, the ancestors of today’s Shawnee Indians—in the form of stone battlements atop strategic bluffs forming a staggered line from the Mississippi River in the west across the state to the Ohio River in the east. When The Lost Treasure of King Juba was written twelve years ago, nine such walls were recognized. Since then, Mark Motsinger won the Outstanding Illinois Teacher Award from the Illinois State Historical Society for his discovery of an additional six prehistoric breastworks. Over the last twenty centuries, the devastation of severe earthquake activity in this tectonically active zone—geological lair of the notorious New Madrid Fault—has undoubtedly shaken many of the formerly twelve-foot-high parapets to their foundations, now hidden under thick vegetation that never relinquishes its cover, even in the mild winters of southern Illinois. Only Motsinger’s methodical research preparation, followed by no less meticulous scouring of the region’s suitable clifftops, enabled him to make his additional discoveries. Commenting on his success, Robert Jackson, a retired forester with the state’s Department of Natural Resources, has himself collected evidence for forty-one ancient, dry-stone bulwarks running from the Missouri to Indiana borders. If Motsinger’s continuing investigations eventually verify these many ancient walls, they could testify to a virtual pre-Columbian Maginot Line in southern Illinois. While these ongoing revelations offer intriguing, even credible possibilities for the area’s colonization by Roman Era refugees, the location or very existence of Burrows Cave itself is still unknown. [post_title] => New Light on the “Burrows Cave” Controversy [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => closed [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => new-light-on-the-burrows-cave-controversy [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2015-04-07 02:58:24 [post_modified_gmt] => 2015-04-07 02:58:24 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://atlantisrisingmagazine.com/?p=9469 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw ) )
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