Indigo-E.T. Connection

by Marshall Masters

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  Indigo-E.T. Connection

  by Marshall Masters

  -----------------------------------

  Paranormal

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  Your Own World Books

  www.yowbooks.com

  Copyright ©2004 by Marshall Masters

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

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  All Rights Reserved © 2004 by Marshall Masters marshallmasters.com

  First Yowbooks Edition 2004

  37,261 Words

  Paperback

  ISBN: 0-9755177-2-4

  DOI: 10.1572/0975517724

  Adobe eBook

  ISBN: 0-9755177-3-2

  DOI: 10.1572/0975517732

  Microsoft eBook

  ISBN: 0-9755177-4-0

  DOI: 10.1572/0975517740

  Mobipocket eBook

  ISBN: 0-9755177-6-7

  DOI: 10.1572/0975517767

  Palm eBook

  ISBN: 1-59772-001-1

  DOI: 10.1572/1597720011

  YOUR OWN WORLD BOOKS

  an imprint of Your Own World, Inc.

  Carson City, NV USA

  yowbooks.com

  SAN: 256-1646

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  Marshall's Motto

  Destiny finds those who listen, and fate finds the rest.

  So learn what you can learn, do what you can do,

  and never give up hope!

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  Cry Not, Young Indigo

  This book is written for the general benefit of Indigo Children, their parents, friends, and supporters. However, the driving goal is to offer Indigos a simple message. Everything happens for a reason, and there are two timely reasons why Indigo Children are appearing in greater numbers today than ever before in recorded history: evolution and contact.

  Humankind is evolving-again-and in the coming decades, our species must successfully join with sentient off-world races so that we may share this wondrous living cosmos in peace. It is my unyielding inner belief that nature has entrusted this role to its gifted children by marking them with identifiable indigo-colored auras, and branding their souls with a fiercely independent sense of self, and life mission. In time, some Indigos will rise up to this burdensome role, and others will be crushed by it. However, the difference will be largely determined by non-Indigos. Without their love, compassion, understanding and support, all is naught.

  Is the author of this book speaking as a researcher? No, because as a fellow recipient of nature's most bittersweet gift, he sees the logic of it all too clearly. The initial realization that being an Indigo is not always a cause for celebration. Mostly, it is a somber and in some cases, regretful moment.

  The first way to identify an Indigo is by intelligence. By conventional measure, a person with a genius-level IQ is considered to have an intellect that places him or her into the top 2 percent of the population. All Indigos are in the top 1 percent or 2 percent. Ergo, when gifted (non-Indigo) children and Indigo Children meet in private, they typically agree upon two things:

  You would never want to be less than you are, although you envy those whose intellect falls into the next lowest category. This is because they are gifted enough to become successful doctors, lawyers, accountants, and so forth without becoming bored. Consequently, they are the ones who are far more likely to enjoy the greatest material rewards of our society.

  You will always be a freak to be feared, admired, envied, and used, if you allow it. Consequently, life becomes a horse race. When your friends are watching, you win by a nose, lest you alienate yourself. Only when the world is looking (and hopefully cheering you on), can you afford the luxury of winning by a length.

  When This Author Became Indigo-aware

  I first learned these simple yet obscure facts of life in the fall of 1969, a year of great promise and turmoil. In July of that year, humanity became intoxicated with astronaut Neil Armstrong's unforgettable pronouncement from the lunar surface, That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. Unforgettable.

  In September of that year, my entire high school graduating class was ordered to show up at the auditorium. No explanation was given. Just be there!

  We dutifully filed in at the appointed time and took our seats, as teachers handed out sealed envelopes and #2 lead pencils. The school principle walked out to the center of the stage. Leaning into the microphone, he slowly explained that we would now take an IQ test called the California Mental Maturity Test. I liked the last part the best. He said those of us who completed our tests before the time was up would be free to spend the rest of the test period as an independent study period. (Yippee! Such a deal!)

  I plowed through the test in short order and was the second student to hand in my completed answer sheet a few minutes behind the smartest girl in the school. After that, I strolled off campus to enjoy a well-deserved Coke and a few Marlboro cigarettes, and never gave it another thought as I relished my independent study period.

  Two months later, I was called into my advisor's office. After the usual pleasantries, he held up my academic records in his left hand. You are a straight C student, he observed dryly. He then held up my IQ test results in the other hand. You also tested in the top percentile according to the CMMT, which means you have a genius IQ. He nodded towards one sheet of paper and then the other. Can you explain this? he asked with the best poker face I've yet to see.

  I'm bored, I replied with a shrug.

  He laid the papers back on his desk with heavy sigh. I just knew you were going to say that. What's the point? Go back to class. Why did he know that any further discussion would be pointless? It was the times.

  When I was growing up, there were no special school programs for gifted children (unless your parents were both doting and rich.) Today, special schools do exist for the gifted rest of us, and I'm very glad for that. (I can only wonder how many brilliant lives within my own generation were needlessly dimmed because of America's one-size-fits-all approach to education back then and today as well.)

  For years after the IQ test encounter with my high school advisor, I always wondered if my test results had been a fluke, but not enough to make it an issue. Then in 1979, a friend cajoled me into taking the Mensa qualification exam with him. Mensa (www.mensa.org) has a single requirement to qualify for membership: You must possess a genius IQ. My friend was sure he had the right stuff but wanted a little companionship nonetheless. Since I was still curious about my high school test score, I agreed to take the test with him.

  The closer we came to the big day, the more I dreaded taking the test, so I partied like a maniac the night before and showed up for the exam the next morning with the mother of all tequila hangovers. Maybe it was a twisted Freudian attempt on my part to sabotage the results. Who knows, but whatever it was-I paid dearly for it.

  As we filed into the testing room, they handed not one IQ test, but two! Worse yet, one of the tests was an updated version of the California Mental
Maturity Test I'd taken ten years earlier. Not the kind of thing you want to see when you are green in the gills.

  Just as in high school, I plowed through both IQ tests as quickly as I could and was the first to finish. This time there would not be another Coke and cigarette reward like in high school. After turning in my test papers, I raced towards a close encounter of the porcelain kind.

  The results came back a few weeks later. My friend was disappointed. He didn't have the right stuff. I was disappointed also. I passed both tests, which meant I would now have to spend the rest of my life as a socially challenged freak of society. Luckily, I moved to California a few years later: a wonderful place where freaks and geeks can use convenient facades like sports cars and laptop computers to quickly blend in.

  So what is the point behind this personal account?

  Indigos, I know how you feel and I empathize with your frustrations. Gosh, I've been there, seen it, done it, and I even think I bought most of the T-shirts. Yes, I have an active membership in Mensa, The High IQ Society-that and a few coins will buy you a cup of coffee. Yes, credible psychics tell me I have an Indigo aura. Yes, if I push my friends, they'll tell me I have an indomitable sense of self, and what I choose to write reflects my own personal sense of mission. My lovely wife, Yelena, has no inhibitions about telling me the same thing darn near every day. So am I an Indigo? I'm not doing this to beat my own chest, so read the book and you decide. So then, why am I writing this book?

  My mother had a genius IQ, and my father was a talented artist who hated the world because he didn't have the courage to follow his true calling and he avenged his disappointments upon those closest to him.

  From my mother came a profound appreciation of my gift. She nurtured my gift and sought every opportunity to help me explore it. Diametrically opposed to her was my father, who resented my gift and did everything he could destroy my sense-of-self. Consequently, from my mother came smiles of joy, and from my father, tears of anguish.

  It is not my natural gift that makes me think I could even attempt such a book as this. No, it is the memory of those bitter tears I shed as a gifted child that now compels me to write this book. My hope is to help just one anonymous Indigo Child replace one anonymous tear of anguish with one anonymous smile of joy. Just one less tear of anguish and all the effort I have invested in this book shall be a bargain, even at a hundred times the cost.

  Please never forget that I am only one man, and my thoughts and ideas can only reflect just that. Still, I hope you enjoy reading them, that they give you food for thought as you pursue the universal truth within yourself, and that they bring some measure of comfort.

  Cry not, young Indigo. You have a vital, urgent, and glorious reason for being here. However, if you must cry-then cry for joy.

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  Who Will Speak for Us?

  If we took all of the books seeking to validate the proposition that extraterrestrials are visiting our planet, and stacked them upon a single library shelf, it would sag hopelessly out of shape. Ergo, this book shall start by skipping past the sag in the shelf, by unreservedly accepting this proposition as a reality. That being said, the next issue is the more critical question: Who should speak for us? Interestingly enough, human evolution may have already answered the question!

  All species on this planet, Modern Man included, evolve in response to changes in their environment. However, our particular species goes beyond that. We are the only species to have evolved in response to our own sociological and technological advances as well.

  Not only do our hands and backsides appreciate the benefits of modern technology and all of its 2-ply benefits, these advances seem to ingratiate themselves into our genetic blueprint with equal enthusiasm as well.

  In this regard, the latest evolution of man has come in the form of what we call Indigo Children. They are labeled Indigo Children because psychics see them as having purplish or indigo-colored auras.

  Scientists and researchers are scrambling to understand these gifted system buster children who began appearing worldwide in unprecedented numbers towards the end of the last century. Regrettably, many of these children have been wrongly diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), and are being liberally treated with the drug Ritalin, as though it were a medieval cure-all. Consequently, a terrible travesty is being wreaked upon the Indigo Children of today, as those who control the purse strings are using powerful mind altering drugs to force the Indigo children they view as square pegs, into the round obedient holes deemed necessary by our materialistic society.

  In general terms, Indigo children are called bright and gifted as opposed to being called geniuses (a term that harkens back to earlier generations.).

  They are born with an indomitable sense of self. Like those who are born into European royalty, they intuitively know their mission in life and expect others to show the proper regard at all times. Their sense of self and life mission is so strong, it never bows to the admonitions, threats, and pleading wishes of parents and educators and their right thinking aptitude tests. ( Hey mom, I don't want to be a lawyer and spend the rest of my life reading boring documents and arguing with people, so learn to live with it! Where are the Oreos? )

  The scientific literature about Indigo Children is building at a professionally respectable pace, but in layman's terms, Indigo Children are not sheeple.

  The term sheeple is a contraction of the words sheep and people and is commonly used by conspiracy theorists to describe the bulk of humanity. You may not agree with the term, but it does have a certain, non-hyphenated way of explaining why intelligent people can always be found marching in lockstep with the maniacal despot du jour.

  What makes the Indigo Children so precious in all of the human experience is that they are wholly unwilling to become subjugated to any thought system or government. Simply put, there is not enough Ritalin in the world to turn even one Indigo Child into a mindless goose stepper for the likes of a Hitler, or Stalin.

  Yes, Indigo Children are of us, but they are also beyond us too, at least those who persist in acting like unquestioning sheeple. This is why they must be properly nurtured into adulthood and groomed for the most important role we could ever bestow: When mankind comes to learn that we are not alone; we have never been alone; nor will we ever be alone.

  The knowing of our first words to other races is still a bridge to be crossed. However, what we must acknowledge is that our Indigo Children must be the first ones to cross it for us. To them we must entrust the awesome responsibility of building mutual respect with the many different extraterrestrial races humankind is certain to encounter.

  A Gift We Can No Longer Squander

  Up until now, society could afford to label its most capable thinkers as eccentrics, geeks, and other not like us terms. After all, it was only a matter of money. However, as our race begins making contact with other races, we'll need to treat Indigo Children in a more fair-minded manner; not because they will be able to control with whom the other races will talk, but rather, they shall act as honest interlocutors on our collective behalf and will openly share the substance of their dialogues with us.

  In more simple terms, if we alienate Indigo Children by forcing them into one-size-fits-all school systems and pumping drugs into them to control their behavior, we'll fail ourselves. Worse yet, we'll face other races as undefended sheeple, because we will have forced our Indigo Children into a one-sided silence.

  In my latest science fiction novel, Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru, I've painted a clear picture of such a one-sided silence, in the secret relationship that forms between the families of Indigo children and a kindly, ancient race of extraterrestrials who simply call themselves the Friends.

  The novel is based on a simple premise about Indigo Children. Races that seek to exploit humankind will shun them, because the Indigo sense-of-self cannot be manipulated. Parental or mentor races, on the other hand, will seek honest interlocutors who can neither be manipulated by t
heir race nor ours. In essence, we'll want to know those who talk freely with our Indigos and to be on the lookout against those who shun them.

  A wonderful thing about a fiction novel is that it is a convenient way to experience logic. Imagine logic as sweet syrup, encased within a thick, hard candy shell of fiction. You swirl it about in your mouth with delicious satisfaction until finally, you cannot resist the temptation to bite down hard. For me, the question I had to answer for myself with Godschild Covenant was why kindly extraterrestrials would be interested in making contact through Indigo Children as opposed to a government bureaucrat?

  After completing the first draft of my manuscript, I was finally able to bite down hard on what had been a long savored piece of hard candy. Let me share with you what I realized by use of an entirely different analogy from the state in which I was raised.

  Stretching for nearly 200 miles across the center of Arizona is the Mogollon Rim, which marks the southern edge of the Colorado Plateau. The average elevation of this undulating rim and plateau country is about 7000 feet. To stand close to the edge of the rim is breathtaking. You know that beyond the edge is a straight fall thousands of feet to a horrible death. Yet right there before you is a panorama of central Arizona you could never forget.

  Now that we have the location, let's place ourselves within it, 25 feet away from the very edge of the rim with a sheer face that descends thousands of feet below. At this point, our view beyond the edge of the rim is limited by our own physical distance from it. For the sake of argument, let's label this position average IQ.

  Now we take a few steps towards the edge of the rim to the position above average IQ and our point of view is expanded. We see more, but not all. Again, we repeat this process by taking steps to the high IQ position, just six or seven feet away from the edge. At this point, we can see much more than we could 25 feet back and best yet, we're not so close to the edge that we need to worry about falling thousands of feet to our death. From this point, those with the genius IQ must go forward right up to the very edge.