Authored by, Master Himala Pahadi
People talk about UFOs like they're machines from another planet. Most of the time, folks are busy guessing which star system they came from. But there's another idea. What if these UFOs aren't "things" at all? What if they're from a different kind of reality, something not physical? Some old ways of thinking—call it magic or mysticism if you like—say that could be true.
Different cultures have their old stories and secrets. They speak of other worlds next to this one. Not in space, but here, unseen. Shamans, priests, and sages claim they can touch these hidden places. They say that sometimes, something comes through from the other side.
UFOs do things that don't make sense. They move in ways that our machines can't. They appear and disappear. What if that's because they're not really here, not in the way we understand? Maybe they're like ripples on the surface of a pond, a sign of something deeper.
In old texts, mysterious sights in the sky were signs of gods or spirits. Wheels of fire in ancient scriptures or flying palaces in old Indian tales were not thought of as solid things. They were beyond simple explanation. Today's UFOs could be the new version of these old mysteries.
If UFOs are not just physical objects, then radar and cameras won't be enough. We need to look in new ways. Maybe we'll need to think about consciousness, or the hidden wisdom in old myths. Maybe we'll even need to rethink what we know about the world itself.
This idea is not popular. But it's worth considering. In a world with many layers of truth, the simple answers might not be enough. Maybe we need to look deeper, at the other kinds of reality that could exist. Only then might we understand what we're really seeing when we look up at the sky and find something we can't explain.
The Mind and The Mystical: Unfolding the Unknown in UFOs
We often hear tales of strange things in the sky. Objects that defy gravity, defy reason. Scientists look to radar, pilots rely on gauges. But what if understanding these phenomena requires looking inward, into the human mind? Some say there's a link between what we see in the sky and what we think, what we believe. There's an old idea that the mind can shape reality. Think about poltergeists—their actions often tied to the emotional state of individuals. The UFOs might be another form of this, appearing in ways influenced by human consciousness. In magical traditions, mind over matter isn't fiction; it's a doctrine. Shamans and wizards claim they can summon or banish spirits. Maybe, in our modern age, we are summoning lights in the sky, strange objects that defy what we know to be true. The mind is a frontier as unknown as the farthest star, and maybe both are connected.
And what of the shapes these UFOs make? The circles in crops, the spirals in the sky. These are not new forms. They are as old as mankind, found in caves and temples, spoken of in hushed tones in rites and rituals. The circle—endless, whole. The spiral—a path of ascent or descent, an evolution or a decay. If these shapes are appearing now, in our skies, what does that tell us? It may be that the message isn't in the object, but in the shape it takes, the path it moves along. In magic, symbols carry power. They speak in a language deeper than words. The message isn't for the ears, but for the soul. These shapes could be a language, a way of communicating that bypasses the rational mind and speaks to something ancient, something instinctual.
These two ideas—of consciousness connection and occult symbolism—might not be separate. Maybe they are two sides of the same coin. A reality influenced by the mind would be one where symbols could carry weight, could manifest in flesh or in light. And symbols, rich and ancient, might speak to parts of us that we don't yet understand, awakening responses we didn't know we had.
The search for what UFOs are may be the wrong quest. The question might not be "What are they?" but "Why are they?" And the answer could be inside us, in our minds and in our history. We are explorers. Sometimes we explore continents, sometimes we explore space. And sometimes the uncharted territories are inside us. Maybe that's where the answers lie.
The road ahead is not well-lit. We walk it all the same, armed with radar, with cameras, but maybe we also need to be armed with open minds and old wisdom. For in the darkness of the sky and the mind, we may find the light we didn't know we were looking for.
Unveiling The Unseen: UFOs in the Lens of History and The Supernatural
In the old days, people saw wonders in the sky. Angels with wings of light, chariots ablaze with fire, flying across the heavens. Prophets spoke of these visions, priests recorded them, and they became stories, legends. Now, we see lights in the sky, objects moving in ways we can't explain. And we wonder—are these the same phenomena, seen through different eyes? In the past, the unknown was magical, divine. Now, we frame it in the language of technology, of aliens from other planets. But maybe the essence hasn't changed. Maybe the unknown is still the unknown, and we are still reaching for explanations. The religious and the mystical might not be as far removed from the modern UFO phenomena as we think. Our ancestors saw wonders, and so do we. The language has changed, but the mystery remains.
And then there's the question of evidence. Where are the fragments of spacecraft, the alien technology? We have debris from our own machines, pieces that fall to Earth when rockets break apart. But from the UFOs, nothing. Could it be because these objects are not physical, not in the way we understand? If the phenomena are supernatural, as the visions of the past suggest, then the lack of physical evidence makes sense. We can't hold a ghost, can't measure an angel's wing. Maybe these objects in the sky are the same. We can see them, record them, but we can't touch them because they are not of this world, not in the way we understand.
Our beliefs shape our reality. In the past, people believed in the supernatural, in gods and spirits. Now, we believe in science, in technology. But the phenomena remain the same, only the interpretation changes. And the lack of physical evidence might be a clue that our interpretation is not complete. Maybe these objects in the sky are not machines, not as we understand them. Maybe they are something else, something that belongs to the realm of the supernatural.
The past can be a mirror. It can show us that the questions we ask are not new, that people have been wondering about the mysteries of the sky for centuries. And maybe, by looking back, we can find a way forward. The lack of physical evidence suggests that we might need to expand our understanding, to consider possibilities that go beyond the physical, the technological. Maybe the answers lie in the realm of the supernatural, in the language of symbols and visions. And maybe, by embracing the mystery, we can find a way to understand it.
We live in a world of wonders, and the sky is full of mysteries. The past can be a guide, showing us that the questions we ask are not new, and that the answers might lie in unexpected places. The lack of physical evidence suggests that the phenomena might belong to the realm of the supernatural, and that we need to expand our understanding to make sense of what we see. By embracing the mystery, and by looking at it through the lens of history and the supernatural, we might find a way to understand the unknown.
UFOs, Magic, and the Unknown: A Tale Beyond Science
You look up, and something is there—darting through the sky, defying gravity, the laws of physics be damned. It appears, vanishes; not like an aircraft we know. You could call it alien technology, but where's the evidence? A burning fuel trail, pieces of machinery? Nothing. Could it be magic then? There's a thought. The inexplicable often lands in the realm of the magical, the supernatural. Where science ends, where equations break down, that's where magic begins. The tales we hear—objects appearing and disappearing, changing course like no human-made craft could—lean more toward Merlin than Mars. We consider these phenomena as a puzzle to be solved, but maybe they are a mystery to be wondered at. Science seeks explanations; magic embraces the inexplicable. If the phenomena defy our known laws, then maybe it's magic we're dealing with.
We fill gaps in understanding with stories. When thunder roared and lightning flashed, our ancestors saw gods at work. When the skies dance with unexplained lights, we narrate new myths. UFOs as modern archetypes, as gods of the gaps in our age of science, come to mind. Just as Zeus hurled thunderbolts and the Kraken lurked in the unexplored seas, these aerial enigmas haunt our skies. They are the embodiment of the unknown, filling the spaces where our knowledge falters. UFOs, then, become a contemporary mythology, symbolizing the quest for understanding in a universe that often defies it. The magic in folklore—the ability to transform, to disappear—finds a parallel in these unexplained phenomena.
Of course, this is speculative. The scientists, both those who study the skies and those who study the supernatural, will demand evidence. Folklore isn't data; mythology isn't proof. But absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence, either. We can't touch magic, but that doesn't mean we can't feel it. These ideas are scrutinized, criticized, but they endure. Because, at its core, the debate isn't about UFOs or magic; it's about the limits of human understanding, about what happens when we reach the edge of the map, where the dragons are.
What we call magic or supernatural is often a fabric woven from strands of the unknown, the incomprehensible. UFOs, whether spacecraft or something more arcane, add to this tapestry. And while the majority may lean toward extraterrestrial explanations, citing technology beyond our grasp, a space remains for magic—for that which defies not just explanation, but understanding. In that space, UFOs might not just be unidentified flying objects; they could be unidentified magical phenomena, occupying a realm between the known and the forever unknown.
The question, in the end, isn't whether UFOs are magical or extraterrestrial. The question is how we deal with the unknown. Do we frame it in the language of science, seeking to dissect the mystery until it fits our understanding? Or do we let the mystery be, allowing it to occupy that space of the unknown, the magical? Both paths offer their own rewards and perils. The choice, like the phenomena themselves, remains a mystery, part of the unending human quest to touch the untouchable, to know the unknowable. And so, we keep looking up, wondering.
UFOs: Where Metaphysics Meets Machinery
Look to the skies and you might see them. Unexplained lights. Shapes that don’t fit any aircraft you know. The first thought: technology. Advanced, extraterrestrial, but technology nonetheless. The other thought: magic, or the metaphysical, the sort that defies understanding. We tend to divide the two, as if the world is made up of binaries—natural and supernatural, known and unknown. But what if it's both? What if UFOs are where machinery and metaphysics merge?
Fast lights zigzagging across the night sky. Objects appearing and disappearing. It's easy to say it's technology we don't understand. Equally easy to say it's the metaphysical, phenomena beyond comprehension. But easy answers seldom fit complex questions. When an object defies the laws of physics, appearing and disappearing, altering its speed abruptly, is it not breaking the boundaries of both the scientific and the spiritual? This isn’t just advanced propulsion; this is reality-bending. Technology manipulates the physical; magic transcends it.
Consider this: magic, or metaphysics, as another form of technology—laws and systems we haven't yet understood. They seem like two different worlds because we've been trained to separate the empirical from the existential. What we see in UFO phenomena could be a merging of these supposed divides, a coalescence. Perhaps what drives these unexplained phenomena is both an engine and an incantation. Metal and mind. Circuitry and consciousness.
Those who've seen them, close encounters they call it, often speak of a psychic element. Visions, telepathic communications. Hallmarks of the magical and mystical. But they also describe physical craft, with gears, with lights—machinery. To consider the phenomena as strictly one or the other is to limit our understanding before we even start to grasp what is in front of us. If those who've been closest to them can't categorize what they've experienced, who are we to draw lines?
You can think of it as a spectrum, with cold, hard technology on one end and the ineffable mysteries of the metaphysical on the other. UFOs might exist in the middle, partaking of both, defined by neither. Like us, perhaps. Beings of matter and spirit. Defined by both, limited by neither.
We're not likely to get answers soon. Even if one landed in the middle of a city, even if they revealed themselves, the understanding would not come easily. Because to understand something that is both magic and machine would require us to reconsider the divisions we’ve built—between science and religion, between technology and spirituality. To accept that these divides are, like the phenomena themselves, neither here nor there.
UFOs, then, remain enigmatic, inviting us to challenge not just what we know but how we know it. Whether we call them technological or magical, they elude our grasping. But in that elusive quality, they offer a lesson. That life’s mysteries do not fit neatly into the categories we’ve constructed. That to live is to dwell in the mingling of light and shadow, known and unknown. It's not an answer. But it's a start.
Credits: The article's image was created in https://app.leonardo.ai