Wayne W. Dyer - Gifts from Eykis

Throughout history storytelling has been a significant avenue of communication. From Aesops Fables and biblical parables to Jonathan Livingston Seagull and many additional ancient and modern sources, we can learn readily by stepping aside to the position of objective observer. There the sting of criticism is not so painful. The action and resulting consequences happened to the fox or bird or prodigal son. Yet with very little effort we see how the truth and universal essence belong to us all. We are moved to new perceptions, emotions, and behavior through these fictional examples.

Science and technology have brought us forward into a grand new world with greater possibilities than ever. But in many ways our attitudes and feelings have not evolved equally. We are less equipped to deal with the opportunities presented today because we drag along some unhelpful beliefs and misperceptions of the realities of our world.

What would be the reactions of an intelligent visitor from another planet to our complex systems here on Earth? How would we view that visitors culture? Can we compare favorably? Are we ready to accept an objective view? Gifts from Eykis is an example of one exchange encounter between an Earthling and a citizen from Uranus. Both are peaceful, open, life-loving people who seek to enhance the well-being of all. Through them I have been able to observe where we are in our societies and speculate on where we might go should we choose the realities recommended. The parable format may enable more people to slip into the role of observer, but ultimately we all must look inward and see ourselves.

As you will discover, Eykis lives. Long live Eykis!

W AYNE W. D YER

The library had been designated as the place to which rented academic caps and gowns were to be returned. I stood among the stacks full of leather and paper, the traditional symbols of wisdom, my hood of doctoral rank askew about my shoulders like a limp noose, the rolled parchment certifying my professional qualifications tucked under my elbow as I held a copy of an essay by Bertrand Russell. It was about happinesssomething which I had searched for and never found among or between the lines of the seemingly endless texts I had read on my way to this day.

Behind me someone approached. I heard the quiet shuffling and knew who it was. There were those at the university who called him eccentric; others, less kind, called him senile. But in the worldwide community of scientists, particularly physicists, he was still recognized as a giant. His feet shuffled slowly but his brain leaped and soared, occasionally to places no one else could dream of, let alone follow.

I turned and smiled a genuinely respectful welcome. Good afternoon, I said.

Indeed, yes. And I have a Gift for you. The professors English was sprinkled with more capitals than most of us used. He handed me a bundle of mathematical equations which I did not recognize.

Long ago, in my early days of Experimentation, I had an Assistant. He would not allow Acknowledgment, for he said that as a Visitor, his presence might be a Disruption. Actually, he deserved the greater Credit, but he explained the Responsibility was mine, and so should be all of the Results.

Youve never mentioned him before that I can remember.

No. No. Nor shall I ever again. But he left me the Urantian Formulas . Ive tried to understand them, but I have only a glimmer. He said there would come a Willing Learner to take up the Journey. This was forty years ago. Ive looked and waited. He sighed. You are the One. A small smile began to move across the wrinkled face and glowed in triumph finally in his eyes.

Me? What did you say this is? I asked incredulously.

The Urantian Formulas . It has to do with Molecular Transport. My journey is nearly done, but yours begins Here, he said, tapping the typed pages. Bon voyage , Learner. Perhaps one daythe Teacher.

He smiled again, gently, and turned to shuffle quietly away.

Thank you for the Gift, I called, still puzzled. Without pausing, he waved a slow farewell salute and was soon out of sight beyond the next library stack.

The Arrival

It was difficult to believe. This place called Uranus appeared to be an exact replica of Earth. After years of decoding the Urantian Formulas , I had made my first successful self-transport to another planet, and as luck would have it, I landed in a place that appeared to duplicate home. From all outward appearances, everything on Uranus was precisely as it was back on Earth.

I had assumed that even though I would remain within my own solar system, I would have an opportunity to see something new, something genuinely different , if I traveled to a very distant planet. I thought that Uranus would be far enough from Earth for me to experience a whole new realitycreatures made of gases who changed shape, or at any rate something to equal the vivid imagination of the Star Trek writers whose work I admired so much. I had pictured myself moving about in time warps, leaping forward or backward millions of years by some magical ability to transcend my body. The years of anticipation and hard work had not prepared me for this shock: there seemed to be no difference at all!

Authors and researchers who considered the possibility of a duplicate planet usually imagined mirror images, reversals of good and evil and the like. However, never, even in my most fanciful moments, had I expected to find a literal sister planet, a place that exactly duplicated Earth. It was almost as if the residents of Uranus had undertaken to deliberately reproduce our world, step by step in every single aspect. Their great oceans, mountain ranges, and deserts were in exact proportion to those of Earth. They even had identical names. There was not only a Sahara Desert, there was even a Sahara Hotel . I suspected they had observed us with a very powerful telescope, and faithfully reconstructed Earth on Uranus. Certainly they had every detail right. Traffic jams took place at five oclock in the afternoon in all the major cities, there was starvation in the Third World, there were huge shopping centers and fuel-efficient small cars imported from Japan. They hadnt missed a thing.

I was beginning to think I had been hoodwinked. Perhaps I had been tricked into believing that I was the first Earthling to visit another planet and in fact I had never even left home. Perhaps my secret research on the Formulas had been penetrated, and I was going to be used as propaganda bait to fool the Sovietsallowing the enemy to think we had achieved some technological breakthrough that did not really exist. I thought Id seen a movie about this at one time. But somehow I knew better. I had felt the impact of molecular transport. I had experienced myself hurtling away from Earth through the void of space. I was sure, but the doubt lingered. It struck me that the only way to verify that I was truly on Uranus was to stop looking at the external images, and to see if in fact the people themselves were also duplicate Earthlings. From all outward appearances they seemed to be.

I decided to select one of these Uranus people to interview in depth; if he or she turned out to be exactly like all the Earthlings Id met, I would return home immediately and develop the ability for travel beyond our solar system. I hadnt come billions of miles simply to see my own world. I had begun this project with a desire for adventure and excitement. The prospect of fitting myself into a new world of people identical to those I had left behind was not particularly exciting.