Alternate Perceptions Magazine, January 2025
Ufology as an Initiation Process
by: Joshua Cutchin
I, unfortunately, don't have a great story for how I got pulled into all this madness. I didn't see a flying saucer. I didn't receive a telepathic download. I didn't have bedroom intruders (that I remember—let's keep it that way, shall we?). I attribute my involvement in the UFO field to two primary things: first, growing up in a household that openly encouraged curiosity and reading of all kinds; and second, the fact that I was raised on a steady diet of 'creature features' brought to life by the likes of Ray Harryhausen and Stan Winston.
Having said that, I couldn't be more grateful for my entry into this domain. For me, it has not only yielded a better understanding of the phenomenon, but also the universe and, dare it be said, myself. Sometimes, in my most introspective moments, I wonder if that's not the whole purpose behind these experiences. They call us not to understand themselves, but ourselves. The study of these phenomena is, as Jung might suggest, an alchemical process of self-transformation. Or as Aimé Michel noted so presciently: "Ufology is not a science but a process of initiation. One starts with field investigations and ends up studying Arab mystics."
This hit me one day on a field trip with my sons to a children's museum. I was staring at an exhibit I otherwise would have had no interest in examining—geology, maybe (I realize some people are really into geology, and that's fine, but I don't find it all that interesting). As I was looking over the gems and geodes, I found myself drawing a connection to something about the phenomenon. Something about the exhibit spoke to something else unrelated that spoke to something else unrelated that had to do with UFOs. Exactly what it was isn't important.
What was important was the fact that, in that small, quiet moment, the UFO did what I suspect UFOs might be here to do: it reenchanted my world. I took an interest in something not out there, among the stars, but down here on Earth, right at home. If I had to single out one primary gripe with contemporary Ufology (I have plenty, rest assured), it might be this obsession with the "out there." That's taking our eyes off the ball, both figuratively and literally. The globe we inhabit is so much more important and present than anything we will find out there, at least for the time being. I grow concerned that shifting our attention to outer space, by placing our hopes for escape in the stars, we neglect all of the trials we face on our own planet. Environmental concerns. Division and strife among ourselves. Spiritual concerns, dare it be said.
It's fine to harbor hopes that we will one day scout the final frontier. In the meantime, we have a lot of work to do down here. What would our world look like if we treated flying saucers not as a look outward, but as a call inward, to put our own houses in order before welcoming interstellar guests? What if we could leverage our fascination and obsession about UFOs to improve conditions here on the ground? What would our world look like if we realized it was already fantastic and enchanted—as miraculous as any Fairyland or alien planet? Would we treat it and its citizens with more dignity, respect, and kindness?
I think we would. That is the message I have taken both from UFOs and the phenomenon writ large.
