Sound in Paranormal Investigations Part 1

While there’s ample reason to believe that hauntings correlate to infrasonic, or low frequency, wave patterns, I suggest that different types of paranormal phenomena relate to both the infrasonic and ultrasonic, frequencies that are out of the range of human hearing. Indeed, if we, as some British scientists propose, are emotionally and physically responsive to, low frequencies that we can’t hear, it seems logical to assume that we also respond to inaudible ultrahigh frequencies. Does a link between paranormal activity and ultrasonic frequencies seem unreasonable? If it does, it may only seem unreasonable because we’re unaware of our subtle relationship to frequency. Nonetheless, hearing- and visually-impaired individuals frequently compensate for disability by developing a primitive form of echolocation, or ultrasonic waves that reflect off objects to let bats know where they are and what’s in front of them (Hossell, 2003). In earlier days when survival was critical, humans may have also had abilities to process a broad spectrum of senses.

Although largely undeveloped, many human talents are amazing. Although not as sensitive as bats, humans apparently also sense short-wave radiation when their eyes adapt to darkness. When using night vision, retinal rod cells are actually able to detect x-rays and gamma rays as a yellowish-green glow (Murchie, 1978). Often, it’s enough to stare fixedly at a hand against a white sheet of paper to see this glow. With training, who knows how much more we can see . . . and, perhaps, learn to use?

Exploring Unseen Worlds
By now, pop physics has probably convinced some of us that what we currently see is not necessarily what we get. The subatomic world is definitely stranger than we think. In all of this strangeness, quality of frequency is, in one way or another, responsible for a great deal more than audible sound. Indeed, when we enter the quantum world, sound and light are mainly a matter of vibration. The smaller a particle, the more it vibrates with pure energy. In terms of energy, however, an electron strives to maintain a “ground state,” or a state of lowest energy because this state is most economical for the electron. When, however, a particle gains energy, it enters an excited state from which it tries to return rapidly to its ground state. The easiest way to return to ground is to shed excess energy-which the particle does by seeking out an energy catalyst that facilitates the expulsion of energy. Often, expulsion of energy takes the form of a flash of light that’s visible to the eye (Herbert, 1985).

So, what does all this have to do with paranormal phenomena? In the case of ghosts, it may suggest that ghosts are a form of unstable electron energy that, in its present form, is unable to achieve a ground state (i.e., equilibrium). In short, a spectral manifestation represents an excited state out of which it’s only possible to shed enough energy to appear briefly as a perceptible form (and then disappear). Ultimately, however, it’s impossible to shed the right amount of energy to dissipate completely, possibly because a spectral entity unconsciously grasps at the pre-death experience of having a particle form that conserves, rather than releases, energy. In contrast to those who believe that repetitive “haunting” behavior is an attempt to horrify or harm the living, it may be more likely that, as a nonconscious natural phenomenon, a ghost is attracted to energy catalysts that provide the needed expulsion of energy. In plainer terms, a ghost depends on the consciousness of the living to supply the correct energy catalyst. Consciousness, however, has to provide just the right quality of awareness. Normal everyday consciousness may not be enough.

What Ghosts and Electrons Have in Common
I can’t prove that ghosts are composed of unstable electrons, but there are some interesting facts about electrons that might be useful in attempting to understand ghosts. Sure, like ghosts, electron particles are best seen in dim light (Herbert, 1985), but the matter goes much further than that, particularly when we enter the world of quantum logic where, as “quantumstuff,” an electron becomes unusually complex. It, as the physicist DeBroglie observed in 1924, shows itself as bothparticle and wave, not merely, as long believed, only as a particle (Herbert, 1985).

In the neither/nor state of electronhood, the electron is, as Herbert (1985) suggests, a quon, or undefined quantum matter that exhibits both wave and particle qualities that vary according to the operative state of the electron (Herbert, 1985). Normally, particles have specific characteristics. These characteristics require that an electron be localized in space, impossible to split, and preserves its identity in collisions with other particles. In contrast to this classic particle identity, however, electrons don’t have to touch to interact. Instead, they create an electric field in which wave activity supplants particle activity. Some more radical physicists even propose that an electron is a point particle whose size is zero. That is, the electron has no definite structure as a particle. If anything, it behaves like a particle that can suddenly take on the qualities of a wave if circumstance are right (Herbert, 1985).

What does this all mean? It means that it’s impossible to pinpoint exactly if something is wave or particle. In the end, it’s as difficult to play with ideas about wave function by using particle theory as it is to contemplate particle function solely from the perspective of waves. It also means that, as contradictory as it might seem, it’s fruitless to explain particle theory without using wave theory, and, conversely, equally impossible to explain wave theory without particle theory (Herbert, 1985).
In spite of the close relationship between wave and particle, Western culture seems unusually particle-minded. It seems likely that our culture would profit from discovering the intrinsic relationship between wave and particle. Almost certainly, paranormal investigation would profit from such exploration. One way to begin exploration is to examine the unique behavior of wave properties.

The Way of the Wave
Let’s face it: wave reality presents a new view of life. Unlike a particle where energy is focused in one specific area, a wave spreads over large areas, is divisible, and fully integrates with other waves (Herbert, 1985). With integration, we deal with a rich new quantum wave reality in which nothing is black or white. In this reality, wave patterns periodically assume visible forms that, after a certain time, dissipate into apparent nothingness. To draw on Alexandra David Neel’s experience as a female lama in Tibet, we find that, in essence, wave reality supports the belief that anything is possible to those who know how to do it (David-Neel, 1977). In other words, when we let our thoughts fluidly emulate the integrative power of wave dynamics, we find that fixed (i.e., particle-like) ideas aren’t enough for understanding a dynamic universe. It also isn’t useful for understanding what we believe is “paranormal” activity that, in the mind of many Asians, isn’t actually all that strange.

For skeptical Westerners, perhaps the best way to describe an integrated wave-like view of reality is, as with quantum reality, to treat it as if it’s tightly woven system, not a collection of details. In effect, we acknowledge life as a quantum phenomenon in which waves, not things, are the foundation of existence. In effect, life is a group phenomenon that depends on the intermingling of various amplitudes. To support this view, we require a new vision that allows us to make dynamic measurements that leave room for what can’t be seen with ordinary consciousness (Herbert, 1985).

Sense Out of Sound
One way (maybe the best way) to understand the behavior of a wave/particle existence is to think about sound. That’s because sound depends on both waves and particles, each fulfilling different functions: sound is waves that are supported by air particles. The co-dependency that creates sound brings to mind brings to mind significant questions that may give us insight on the nature of ghosts. For example, what happens in a vacuum where sound doesn’t transmit? Can there be ghosts in space? Moreover, can there be telepathy without air, particularly since there’s no medium for transmission?

What if there is transmission wherever there’s air? What happens? Perhaps, psychic activity is mainly a matter of a psychic being “in phase” (or matching up) with unaccustomed frequency patterns that most of us unconsciously screen out of awareness as destructive interference. In effect, extremely sensitive people who experience sightings may function like a transducer that transforms the energy of waves into detailed pictures (Hossell, 2003).

Feats of Sound
While the use of frequency might seem an unlikely tool for paranormal investigation, it’s worth noting that some mystical traditions (like the Tibetan tradition) have uncanny practices that, in essence, reflect the movements of sound waves.

One of the first examples of wave transmission is the practice of sending messages “on the wind,” a poetic Tibetan expression that refers to telepathic communication. In contrast to Western belief that telepathy is something of an accident, Tibetan telepathy is willed. Often, it’s used by yogis to teach distant students. While this education might, to us, seem highly impractical, many yogis prefer this method because it’s intimate: it relies on the exchange of direct feelings between connected individuals who dispense with both misunderstandings that arise from the indirectness of words, and the perception of “separateness.”

Similar to a psychic, a yogi concentrates his or her thoughts so that thoughts have rhythm, or pulse. At the same time the yogi transmits teachings, a student “tunes into” into incoming waves by making the mind so receptive that he or she literally vibrates with the yogi’s waves (David-Neel, 1977). In this teaching, the student learns by experiencing profound feelings entirely without explanations! Vibrations assume identity in a mind that’s ready to make sense of input. Often, reception occurs when the student meditates, or is occupied with something other than waiting for a message. Generally, transmitted thoughts don’t appear as dreams because, in a dream state, there’s no interplay between vibrations and the conscious mind, an integration that supports the experience of nonordinary transmission (David-Neel, 1977).

Play With Theory
All things considered, I assume that long-distance teaching involves either the transmission of long frequencies, or very short frequencies that are so short that, taken in condensed form, they mimic low waves without the choppy qualities that generally characterize short waves. In effect, extreme shortness brings waves so closely together that they merge, and in so doing, behave like one dense low frequency wave that doesn’t have the conventional choppiness of short waves (Greene, 1999). If this idea has merit, it seems apparent that complex paranormal activity requires more than simple cause-and-effect analytical thought. To understand nonordinary phenomena, we must change our minds!

In playing with theory, it’s useful to look for behavior that supplies literal examples of what I mean. In this case, I think of traditional Tibetan lung-gong-pas running in which a runner literally illustrates the use of rhythm, and possibly even frequency patterns, by covering long distances over mountain passes without pause by using a springing, elastic movement. This repetitive movement depends on mental concentration and on different forms of rhythmic breathing. While engaged inlung-gong-pas, the runner not only appears weightless, but is also impervious to distractions. That’s because a lung-gong-pas runner calmly concentrates on a repeating up-and-down bouncing movement that looks much like a frequency wave. It isn’t unusual for waiting Tibetans to sense the impending arrival of such a runner (David-Neel, 1977).

Real Life Experience
While lung-gong-pas running may test a reader’s willingness to think creatively about frequency, I respond by referring to my experience as a professional ballet dancer who, yes, specialized in jumping. In many respects, lung-gong-pas running makes perfect sense to me. That is, I understand that the secret to endurance is to set up a repetitive up-and-down rhythm (like a sound wave) in which the accent is on the up beat. [It is, of course, easiest when one dances to music with a strong beat.] To reach a sensation of weightlessness while jumping, one builds up a sense of rhythmic “bouncing” that, in many respects, follows the same pattern as a sound wave.

By itself, this bouncing might not seem terribly impressive, but I noticed that what emerged from a meditative focus on the rhythmic pulse of an ongoing movement was a highly receptive mind in which I could tell where others were without looking at them! I also uncovered unexpected insights that I wouldn’t have had by standing still. Even today, writing is easiest when I listen to music as I write. In addition, I read my work aloud to determine if the rhythm of I write sounds right. That’s because the sound of my writing touches me more profoundly than silently reading it. There’s more to sound than we think.

More Research Needed
That sound and mysticism are closely entwined isn’t a revelation to older cultures that routinely associate qualities of sound with mystic activities. In effect, sound waves do quite a bit that we, for the most, part, don’t yet acknowledge. We don’t know the full extent of what sound waved do, but my suggestion is that sound/frequency plays a significant role in paranormal activity.

Where do we go from here? The answer may be to keep an open mind and experiment, experiment. Nothing can be ruled out in the unknown. Nothing.

Greene, B. (1999). The Elegant Universe: Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions, and the Quest for the Ultimate Theory. New York: Norton.

Herbert, N. (1985). Quantum Reality: Beyond the New Physics. New York: Anchor Press.

Hossell, K.P. (2003). Sonar. Chicage, Ill.: Heinemann Library.

Murchie, G. (1978). The Seven Mysteries of Life. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.