CHAPTER 8
The Supernatural Fisherman
The publication in 1985 of the long-awaited Far Journeys brought a batch of favorable reviews and considerable increase in correspondence and inquiries about courses at the Institute. Around this time many of those who signed up were devotees of one or more of the New Age philosophies. The director's report in an Institute newsletter tactfully described these philosophies as “a number of ‘disciplines,’ tools, techniques and programs—many aimed at helping people obtain a desired state of being, many aimed at the commercial possibilities.” While New Age thinking did not affect the program content, it did mean that some Gateway participants brought with them expectations that were not necessarily satisfied—as well as items of baggage that needed to be dumped before they could fully appreciate the Monroe approach. This approach, as exemplified by the trainers, was nonjudgmental, dispassionate, and objective. There was no belief system, no ritual (apart from handing in one's watch at the commencement of a course), no mystification. The participants were always in control of the process. The development and exploration of human consciousness, assisted not by substances, ceremonies, crystals, or chanting but only by scientifically designed, phased sound signals, were the only objectives of the Institute's research.
The “Supernatural Fisherman”
For the hundreds of men and women attending Institute courses (with increasing numbers coming from Europe, the Far East, South America, and Australia), special highlights were the sessions with Robert Monroe in David Francis Hall. Since his years as a high-powered, smart-suited executive in the world of radio and television his appearance and style had completely transformed. One participant recalled his first sight of him. “Dressed like a weekend sportsman in a sailor's cap, plaid shirt, baggy pants and beat-up loafers, he could have been a retired executive searching for a cocktail lounge in a resort hotel—only to stumble into some damn holistic seminar by mistake.” Usually carrying a mug of coffee, he would wander into the hall, gaze around as if mildly surprised to find a number of people sitting there looking at him, take off his jacket, if he was wearing one, hang it on an imaginary hook (whence it would fall to the floor), and begin to talk. He would ask a question or two—“Are you having fun?” was a usual one—and then launch into an apparently rambling discourse more like a one-sided conversation than a lecture. Sometimes he would reminisce, with stories about events in his younger days, such as finding those two new, crisp dollar bills beneath the plank that had not been moved for years. Or he might recall episodes from his flying days, or anecdotes about a favorite dog or cat. Then he would move on to other matters: philosophical or psychological issues, ways of using Hemi-Sync, the importance of always being in the moment, assurances of surviving physical death. Whatever the subject, his audience sat there entranced—not so much by what he said but by the way he said it. Afterwards, although you might not remember the content, you never forgot what it was like to be in his presence with that resonant, rumbling voice echoing in your ears. Sometimes at the end he would take questions; other times it was “Dinner's ready,” and off he shambled. It was, of course, a performance, and as with any good performance the timing was everything. But for his audience, to be in the presence of the great explorer of inner space, the man who had designed and voiced those exercises that carried you into realms beyond imagining—that was real magic.
The mid-1980s were years of development and expansion for the new Institute. In 1983 members of the recently formed Professional Division had assembled for the first annual Professional Seminar. In his opening remarks, Monroe emphasized the importance of producing research papers, designed to be appropriate for publication in professional journals, on specific applications of Hemi-Sync with references to control groups and accompanied by thorough statistical analysis. During the year, members contributed reports on using Hemi-Sync with alcohol abuse patients, in a vision improvement program, in focusing attention when learning, in increasing organizational effectiveness, and in working with two children, one diagnosed as autistic and the other with cerebral palsy and subject to seizures. There were also two very encouraging accounts on the value of the Emergency Treatment exercises during extensive surgical procedures.1
A further step forward was taken in 1984, when the laboratory was enriched with the installation of what became known as the “black box,” designed for the most part by Joe McMoneagle and constructed by himself and Dave Wallis. This was an updated development of the installation in the Whistlefield laboratory. It consisted of a large sound-proofed booth, copper shielded, equipped with a waterbed and wired to a monitoring unit so that the monitor at a control desk and the subject in the booth would be in verbal contact via headphones throughout a session. Certain physiological readings, including temperature, galvanic skin response, and skin potential voltage, could be obtained from electrodes attached to the subject's fingers, which enabled the monitor to note, for example, the degree of relaxation of the subject and adjust the signals accordingly. The booth was to be utilized for the Explorer program and a session in it was later added for participants in Guidelines. It could also be made available to individuals for personal experiment or research. Monroe inspected this cozy and comfortable facility when it was completed and ready for use. He turned to Wallis. “Make sure everyone knows that this booth is not to be used for assignations,” he said without a smile.2
In 1985 came another innovation, a portable Hemi-Sync synthesizer, a compact device able to create a range of selected Hemi-Sync frequencies that could be combined with music or the sound of surf. The synthesizer could be linked to external speakers or headphones, and it was possible to set the frequencies to create optimal learning conditions. Using this setting, it was tested in a number of schools in Washington State, under the supervision of Devon Edrington, who for several years had been using Hemi-Sync combined with music in his classes to help students improve their concentration and memory. Reports were uniformly favorable but, sadly, in 1986 Edrington died and the project lapsed. In the following year Michael Hutchison, a reporter for Omni magazine, toured the country trying out various devices that were claimed to affect states of consciousness, publishing his findings in Megabrain (Ballantine/Random House, 1986). He conducted a series of tests and workshops using the synthesizer, and became convinced of its effectiveness. He proposed that controlled studies involving larger groups would provide more compelling evidence, but before this idea could be put into practice Monroe decided to cease production. The reason for this is not clear; it may have been apprehension lest the device “fall into the wrong hands” or that, should its popularity increase, the sales of Hemi-Sync tapes would suffer.3
By 1985 it was becoming clear that one very important area of the Institute's operation, the production and duplication of the audiotapes, needed attention. Listening to music on a local radio program gave Monroe an idea. The presenter, Mark Certo, an impressively large individual with a warm personality and a caustic sense of humor, by profession an audio engineer and musician with a studio in Charlottesville, found a message on his answering machine to call Bob Monroe. He did so, and was invited to come to the Gate House, where he was greeted by “an elderly man wearing sweat pants fastened to his frame with multi-colored suspenders,” smoking a Carlton cigarette with two inches of ash, which promptly fell onto his shirt. Mark was given a tour of the New Land and the Institute buildings. Finally, he was taken to the laboratory where, having listened closely to what Monroe was telling him, he expected to see a world-class recording facility complete with the latest equipment. What met his gaze, however, was, he recalled, “a collection of the most archaic recording equipment I think I had ever seen.” He quickly understood that this equipment was Monroe's pride and joy and accepted the challenge to wire it all up to a console. Over lunch in nearby Nellysford, Mark outlined his experience and career goals, adding that he had no wish to work for anyone full time. Monroe smiled. “I just need you to mix about fifty tapes for me,” he said. “The rest we'll take as it comes.” So began Mark Certo's thirteen years with the Institute.
The fifty tapes that Monroe referred to were to form a new program under the title Human-Plus to be launched in 1987. The inspiration for this series derived from the OBE recounted in Far Journeys, when he came across the inhabitants of a period in the distant future who were known as Humans-Plus. To begin with, Mark spent four days a week working on these tapes so that they could be duplicated for mass distribution. He was amused to find that the master that Monroe provided carried in the background the sounds of chirping crickets. It was impossible to edit them out without destroying the integrity of the tape so they had to stay. He began by approaching the task from a technical angle until he decided he ought to listen to one of the tapes through headphones. As Bob's voice counted up to ten he found himself in an extraordinarily deep meditative state—his first experience of the power of Hemi-Sync.
While Mark was not yet committed to working full time with Monroe, he was becoming increasingly involved with matters at the Institute. With the advent of Christmas he was invited to the staff party. As a gift to Monroe he created a spoof H-Plus tape, himself assuming the voice of Marlon Brando as the Godfather, Vito Corleone, and played this during the celebrations. Among the sound effects was Corleone shooting the noisy cricket. While everyone was laughing, he was disturbed to see Monroe leave the room. He went to apologize, but Nancy stopped him, saying she'd never seen Bob laugh so much. As Mark discovered, Monroe was wary of showing uncontrolled emotion, even hysterical laughter.
This episode seemed to draw the two closer together. For Monroe, Mark was someone he could joke with, who did not treat him as some sort of guru or New Age icon, or even as a somewhat unpredictable employer, but as a buddy with whom he could be at ease. They discussed various projects that Monroe had in mind, one of which was expanding the Metamusic program and improving its quality. Following Mark's advice, he decided to commission professional composers to provide the first tapes for a new series. While Monroe himself preferred dramatic symphonic compositions, Mark thought that an atmospheric style might be more appropriate. His own two choices, Inner Journey, by M. Sadigh, and Sleeping through the Rain, by M. Sigman and S. Anderson, quickly became best-sellers and have remained near the top of the list for almost twenty years.
Mark was now placed in charge of the Metamusic program. At the same time, however, his life outside the Institute was changing. He separated from his wife, with the consequence that he had to leave his house that contained his own recording studio. To improve his career prospects he applied for, and was offered, jobs in Chicago and Hawaii. Yet, on discussing his future with Monroe, he found himself persuaded that the Institute was the place where he belonged. He felt that Monroe really cared about what happened to him and accepted his offer of a full-time post, even though it was not as lucrative as the other offers he had received.
As a further task, Mark was required to do what he could to improve the audibility of the Explorer series of tapes. Many of these had been recorded at Whistlefield and their quality was poor. Mark had problems also with the content, having no previous experience of channeled material. When he later met some of the Explorers he found them to be pleasant, normal people, although on tape they sounded to him “like deranged beings with bogus English accents.” Gradually, however, in talking with Monroe, who shared with him many of his own out-of-body experiences, his interest in topics such as channeling and reincarnation began to grow and he found himself more able to accept ideas and situations that hitherto had appeared bizarre. It was Monroe's ability to express himself in a way that everyone he talked with could relate to that enabled Mark to come to terms with what was being thought and said around him.
As the reputation of The Monroe Institute continued to expand it attracted an increasing number of talented individuals from all areas of the United States and from many countries overseas. Most came to take the programs, but there were others who felt they had something to offer to the Institute itself. One was the ebullient and energetic Leslie France, who had been involved in the early days of the hospice movement and had been strongly attracted by the work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. In 1986 she received a copy of Far Journeys as a gift from a friend, who said—shades of Journeys Out of the Body—that it had fallen on her from a bookstore shelf. Reading it, Leslie realized that Robert Monroe's fledgling Institute was where Kübler-Ross had undergone the transformational experiences she had described in one of her lectures. She contacted the Institute, took the Gateway Experience in-home course, bent all her intentions in the direction of finding employment there, and was amazed to be invited to an interview for the post of projects director. Once appointed, she proposed Kübler-Ross as the keynote speaker for the next Professional Seminar and felt that a circle had been completed when she agreed to come. Under Leslie's direction the Professional Division continued to grow, with its members feeding in increasing numbers of ideas and proposals as well as reporting on their own research into the uses and applications of Hemi-Sync.
A major asset to the training side of the Institute was Dave Mulvey. Mulvey had taken the Gateway Voyage in 1981 and had been attracted to the New Land as a place to live, moving into his own house there in 1983.4 To begin with, he acted as airport courier from time to time; then Monroe invited him to help train some of the programs. He went on to fill several roles, including writing and designing the brochure, co-producing several tapes with Bob Monroe, editing the newsletters, and helping in the design of the Guidelines program and, later on, the H-Plus series. Dave proved an ideal trainer, never imposing his personal views and maintaining a keen sense of humor as well as a sympathetic approach towards all participants. In 1988 he was appointed director of programs.
Another individual drawn to the Institute was Fred Atwater, who had felt a strong compulsion to work there ever since his first meeting with Bob Monroe. Although no promise of permanent employment had been made, he was offered and accepted the role of technical consultant. In 1986, with retirement from the army beginning to loom, he bought a parcel of land some two-thirds of a mile from the Center and began to build a family house. Later that year David Lambert, a young researcher with a brilliant reputation who was working in the auditory physiology lab in the University of Illinois Medical Center in Chicago, contacted the Institute offering to barter his services as a computer programmer in exchange for a Gateway program. Lambert had read Journeys Out of the Body when at school and, as he said, “had been tremendously influenced by it.” His interest had been reawakened by a magazine article on Monroe and the Institute, and further stimulated by reading Far Journeys. Early in 1987 he visited the Institute, meeting Monroe, Dave Wallis, Leslie France, and Scooter. He offered to write software for them to help them make their research less anecdotal and more regimented, and showed them images of brain responses of gerbils to auditory stimuli at different depths over time as examples of recent research. Enthused by this new technology and Lambert's offer of help, Monroe arranged for him to return the following summer to develop the appropriate software.
The Gift House
In the summer of that year the Gift House was at last ready for occupation. The name proved appropriate. When the building commenced there was not enough money available to complete it. Yet somehow the money arrived, including checks from the sale of subsidiary rights to Bob's first book, from the closure of an escrow account on the sale of Whistlefield, from the sale of shares, and from other sources. After seven years in the restricted environment of the Gate House, to the Monroes the Gift House was almost a taste of Heaven. Bob said it was the nicest place he'd ever lived.
The Gift House is not what one might expect to find on the top of a mountain in Nelson County. The front elevation resembles a modest Spanish hacienda. The door-knocker is in the shape of a fox's head. (Nancy loved foxes and there are pictures of them throughout the house.) Inside to the right is a den, as at Whistlefield, with large, comfortable chairs, bookshelves, and an oversized television screen. To the left is an open-plan kitchen. There is a spacious formal dining room and a somewhat fanciful living room with one wall designed as a waterfall trickling over rocks. The Monroes’ bedroom is also on this floor. To the rear the glass-walled garden room provides extensive views over treetops to the range of hills beyond. Downstairs are other bedrooms and outside a swimming pool. Music was piped into every room from an audio center in the den. Above, turkey buzzards and hawks ride the winds; inside, dogs and cats lived in comfort. Opposite stands the log cabin made of chestnut beams from an old barn on the property. One of Bob's pleasures once they had moved in was to wander out in his robe in the early morning, making sure he was properly covered lest Nancy comment, to watch the rays of the rising sun flickering through the trees. Then, after breakfast, he would cross to the cabin, where he spent much of his time, reading, writing, using his word processor with its huge screen for the sake of his weakening eye-sight—his third book, to be called Ultimate Journey, was already on its way—composing on one of the keyboard synthesizers, performing on his microchip-operated organ, or dealing with whatever Institute affairs found their way up the mountain and sending down instructions, proposals, flow charts, and memos, several of which might well be cancelled or amended the next day.
Bob Monroe and the waterfall in the Gift House
Bob's Cabin
In her new house Nancy could entertain in style when the occasion arose. She delighted showing visitors around and welcoming members of the Professional Division on the last evening of their annual seminar. The house suited her natural elegance and she took pride in keeping it up to the mark. Now far from the distractions in and around the Gate House, she was able to relax, enjoy preparing meals in a kitchen of her own design, and spend more private time with Bob. One of her hopes was that she would now be able to complete the two novels that she felt inspired to write. One was to be a modern version of Scarlett O'Hara, the other a more mystical story under the title, “A City Not Built with Hands.” Sadly, both remained unfinished.
The year 1987 saw the launch of the Human-Plus series, fifty exercises each dealing with a different function. The notion of using Hemi-Sync to create a simple learning system that could be of benefit to everyone, no matter what their educational background might be, and no matter whether they attended a residential program or not, had been in Monroe's thoughts for some years. At the Fifth Annual Professional Seminar in August of that year he introduced this new program to the largest group—ninety participants—that had so far assembled at the Center.
In his introductory talk, Monroe pointed out that so far Hemi-Sync had been used mainly for self-exploration. This, he now considered, was not enough, and he explained that the new program would provide a number of function exercises “that will teach individuals to develop control over physical, emotional and mental systems…one step at a time.” This would be achieved by utilizing new multilayered Hemi-Sync signals to access a particular brain function, allowing the transformation of “beliefs” into “knowns,” thus enabling those using the program to transcend their self-imposed limitations.
This “System of Planned Evolution,” as Monroe described it, sounded very ambitious. To some of those present the idea that by listening to an exercise on audiotape you would be able, for example, to overcome pain, summon up extra physical strength, improve your arithmetical skills, or sharpen your concentration seemed far-fetched, if not incredible. Monroe explained that he never anticipated that every exercise would work for every individual, but that even if only 10 or 20 percent were effective it would be “an astounding step in human transformation.” He added that you might need to listen only once or twice to a particular exercise. As soon as it was fixed in your memory, you were encouraged to give the tape to someone else—to anyone who might need it whether that person knew about Monroe, Hemi-Sync, the Institute, or not. He insisted that H-Plus was intended as a service to humankind, not as a means of creating profit for the Institute. In a letter to participants in the first H-Plus residential course Monroe emphasized “the obligation to be of service where and when the opportunity arises.” He continued: “You will encounter others who need the help that H-Plus provides…It is a gift you can give, a service you can perform better than anyone else.”
The initial residential course took place in October 1987. Two experienced trainers, Barbara Collier and Cathy Kachur, each blessed with a keen sense of humor, designed and conducted the first few programs. During the six days, participants were required to listen to thirty-six H-Plus exercises. Each tape included an identical “preparation” side, introducing and explaining the process, and a “function” side for the specific purpose of the tape. The idea was that you learned the “function command” (“plus focus,” “plus see better,” “plus relax” are examples) and then when you needed to enact the function you simply repeated it on a breath. To implant the function, as it were, Monroe created a new Hemi-Sync signal he called Focus 11. This is recorded on every tape; the theory is that it is reactivated when the function is recalled.
Lying down listening to nearly forty almost identical exercises in six days was not altogether an inspiring or enjoyable experience. The trainers worked hard to devise activities to vary and lighten the program, and the Institute itself, together with the beautiful surroundings and prospects, cast its own special spell. Monroe himself learned much from the responses of the participants, whose experiences, to his delight, appeared to indicate a success rate approaching 40 percent. Before long, H-Plus weekend programs were being conducted by Outreach trainers in several venues throughout the United States, Canada, and England. The tapes were sold singly and many positive reports were received from individuals whose only contact with Hemi-Sync was through a single H-Plus tape. However, the six-day residential courses, originally intended for those who would become ambassadors for H-Plus, failed to attract sufficient applicants. This was not surprising, as the programs were repetitive rather than progressive, and it soon became obvious that it was much cheaper to buy those tapes that you felt that you needed, listen to them, and then, once the functions were embedded, pass them on to someone else. The residential courses were discontinued in 1991. In subsequent years some of the exercises in less demand were withdrawn, but the 2006 catalogue still included thirty-five H-Plus titles, now recorded also on compact disc.
While it is impossible to evaluate the success of the H-Plus program with any precision, published reports and personal testimonies provide evidence of its continued usefulness in a variety of situations, including dealing with pain, restoring energy postpregnancy, changing negative attitudes and emotional patterns, overcoming learning problems, sharpening the five senses, and as a positive element in learning. One surprising result involved a trial with two young women diagnosed with myalgic encephalitis (Epstein-Barr syndrome), who studied the H-Plus list and selected those exercises that they thought they needed. The choices they each made were found to be extremely helpful in coping with the difficulties presented by this condition. The wide variety of functions enabled users of H-Plus to develop their own ways of working with the system, usually by linking functions together to suit a particular purpose.5 Much of the success of the process is due to the quality of Monroe's recorded voice, so powerful in conveying his own confidence in what he was saying. Transferred to the listener, that confidence is a vital element in encouraging belief that the process will actually work and its simplicity makes it easy to use and remember. It is a gift for which an incalculable number of people are grateful.
In the summer of 1988, work in the Institute laboratory began to intensify. David Lambert returned to continue his research. Atwater, whose house was nearly complete and whose retirement from the army was imminent, told Leslie France of his dream to be involved with the further development of Hemi-Sync. One of Leslie's aims was to create opportunities for professional members attending the forthcoming seminar to form interest groups so that research on specific projects might be continued after the meeting. She asked Atwater to organize a group on the effects of Hemi-Sync on the human brain and invited Lambert to participate. The topic attracted much interest, the group members, who included several scientists, concluding that the best tool currently available for this research was the standard strip-chart style EEG.
Meanwhile, Leslie received information about a team of scientists in Colorado who were developing a topographical EEG display system that, she thought, sounded as if it would be of interest to Bob Monroe. She suggested that this system could be worth investigating. Lambert visited the Colorado unit and returned convinced that it was what they needed. The system worked in conjunction with a then up-to-date desktop computer, an IBM-compatible 286. Atwater began generating binaural beats with his own Amiga computer, which was equipped with a sound card. He produced a simple program written in BASIC. Lambert was enthused by this and used the Amiga to develop a program that could be used to create multiple binaural beat patterns that could be mixed down to Hemi-Sync tapes. He was so impressed by the Amiga that he insisted on holding on to it, leaving Atwater to buy another one for himself. When this process was demonstrated to Monroe, he quickly appreciated how much more efficient this was than laboriously mixing layers of sounds through a multichannel audio mixing board.
Another development that came to the notice of the researchers was a technology known as BEAM (Brain Electrical Activity Mapping). This had been invented by Dr. Frank Duffy of the Children's Hospital Medical Center at Boston and David Culver of Braintech, a manufacturing company in New Jersey. It consisted of a neurophysiological diagnostic device that converted the output of a twenty-channel EEG into a color-contour map of the electrical activity of the brain. The data was gathered via noninvasive electrodes placed on defined positions on the scalp. The equipment converted this information into computer-readable form, analyzed the information, and displayed the results as a two-dimensional stylized color oval image of the head. Originally used to diagnose certain neurological conditions in children, the technology had been adapted by other companies for a variety of purposes. Having considered some of these purposes, members of the working group recommended that the Institute should purchase a BEAM-type device, the Neuromap System 20, from the NeuroMap Medical Corporation, Boulder, Colorado. The group also proposed that the Institute should provide funds for a research/laboratory effort to document the physiological effects of Hemi-Sync technology, develop improved Hemi-Sync processes, and provide individual sessions for those wishing to examine their own brain patterns while using Hemi-Sync. (All this was very different from Monroe's earlier attitude towards the purchase of equipment, which derived from his fascination with auctions. On one occasion he returned from a sale with a large item of outdated hospital equipment embellished with dials and switches. “What do you think we could use this for?” he asked Dave Wallis. Dave took one look at it. “Landfill,” he replied.)
Ever since Hemi-Sync had first been developed, Monroe had been struggling to resolve a dilemma. He was wary of people with degrees, possibly because he himself had obtained one without doing much solid work. He also found it hard to trust scientists to understand a process that had come about largely through trial and error. In one way he wanted validation for the technology, but in another he did not think it was needed. Now he was put on the spot. He embarked on a series of discussions with Atwater and the Institute's senior staff members, including Scooter, Dave Mulvey, representing the trainers, Dave Wallis, Rita and Martin Warren, and Leslie France. All agreed that the project should go ahead. The one problem was shortage of money, as the Neuromap system was expensive to buy and install. Wallis proposed that the idea be introduced to a friend of his, a Canadian businessman who had recently taken the Gateway program and become an enthusiastic supporter of the Institute. Convinced by what he heard, the Canadian donated a generous sum of money towards furthering research. This enabled the system to be purchased and the laboratory to be updated. Atwater, who had been acting for some time as an unpaid technical consultant, offered for a token salary to manage the project for the first year, with renegotiation of his position after that, to which Monroe and Scooter agreed. In the following year Atwater joined the staff full time as director of research.
It is significant that two of the principals in the army's most innovative intelligence program, Captain Frederick Atwater and Chief Warrant Officer Joseph McMoneagle, came on retirement to live as neighbors less than a mile from Bob Monroe and the Institute. Monroe has been described as a kind of supernatural fisherman, reeling in those who would be of value to himself and his Institute, no matter what they did or where they were. Some later slipped away; some were thrown back into the water. But these were two who stayed, each making distinct contributions to the old fisherman's projects.
In November 1989, in an open letter to supporters of the Institute, Monroe outlined “the mountain of information” that was being gathered from the operation of the Neuromapper. In using it “to identify and measure various levels of human consciousness in both normal subjects and those with special talents or training” spectacular results were being obtained. The equipment was now an essential component of the Institute's programs and was also available to anyone willing to pay for a personalized session. It was also an indispensable tool for a new venture, the Gifted Subject program, designed to investigate the brain activity of individuals with special gifts or talents. The purpose was to discover brainwave information related to subjects with special abilities to see if this information could be used to improve the Hemi-Sync process.6 From this document it appears that Monroe's doubts about the necessity of validation were now finally resolved.
Staffing the Institute was always a problem, partly because of its geographical situation. If you could afford to buy or build a house on the New Land, then one problem was solved—for the time being. Most employees did not have that sort of money and were compelled to live elsewhere—but elsewhere could involve long journeys to and from work. There was no job security and few opportunities for promotion. Moreover, in its role as an employer the Institute might be described as erratic. Remuneration did not always match up to the dignity of the title of an appointment and working conditions were not ideal. While the registrar, Helen Warring, had a spacious office on the ground floor of the Gate House, on the floor above, where several people were dealing with matters such as accounts, orders, and sales, conditions were cramped. It was not surprising that many employees remained for only a short time.
The Professional Division 1989
There were, however, two in particular who stayed on to provide especially valuable service. One of these was Dr. Darlene Miller, who joined the training staff in 1985. As a clinical psychologist she had directed a residential treatment facility for 160 violent juvenile offenders. She had also acted as a consultant with a number of management groups on effective team building. Monroe appointed her to direct the Explorer and Personal Resources Exploration programs and from 1991 she and Teena Anderson, an ex-social worker who had a notable gift for channeling, also facilitated the Lifeline program. Dr. Miller was later promoted to director of training and was still holding that position in 2006.
The other long stayer was a locally recruited employee, Teresa Critzer (later Teresa West), who simply wanted a job closer to home. She knew nothing about the Institute, nor was she expecting, as she said, “the dramatic new and wonderful direction my life was to take.” She continued: “Having considered myself a hard working country girl, the language and subject matter of TMI was like a foreign language to me.” But hers was a real success story. She proved an efficient organizer and was soon promoted to take charge of personnel and administration. Then, in 1985, when the Institute became established as a nonprofit organization, it became necessary to separate the sales of products—tapes and, later, compact discs—from the Institute itself. For this purpose a new incorporated company was formed, to be relocated a few years later in Lovingston, some dozen miles distant from the Institute. Teresa moved across to work with this company. In 2004 this “hard working country girl” was appointed vice president of the Institute and also of the sales arm, now known as Monroe Products. While over the years the financial state of the nonprofit Institute fluctuated according to the uptake of courses, the sales arm was generally profitable and continued to expand.
Another complication—if that's the right word—was that Monroe was not the easiest person to work for. Leslie France thought that the best term to describe him was “mercurial.”
“Among the staff,” she recalls, “we often spoke of him in terms of which personality aspect he was expressing at the moment—Uncle Bob (or Dad), Businessman Bob, Good Old Boy Bob, Cosmic Bob, Paranoid Bob, Performer Bob. Those were the main Bobs I knew but not, by far, the only Bobs. One soon learned the advantage of determining which Bob was present before attempting communication. And it could change on a dime.”
Leslie adds that “juggling Bobs” caused the staff much frustration. “Businessman Bob sent edicts down from the Black Hole, as we called his office in the cabin on Roberts Mountain, some other Bob refuted the edicts, and Paranoid Bob railed against the untrustworthiness of the staff who failed to follow the edicts.” One interpretation, more sympathetic than some, was that he needed to stir things up to keep the energy moving and it didn't matter how this was done.
Businessman Bob, described by Leslie as “the personification of the 1950s ethic: sly, hard, unemotional in pursuit of the dollar,” was whom Leslie expected to encounter when summoned to a meeting in the Center's dining room with Bob and Ron Harris, the recently appointed office manager. She was first to arrive and sat down to wait. The others came together, Bob carrying a yellow legal pad covered with his customary big black lettering.
“While we were settling in and Ron's attention was on his notes, I glanced at Bob,” Leslie remembers. “At that moment he caught my eye and the most extraordinary thing happened. I felt as though he and I were transported into another awareness and a stream of communication issued from his gaze directly into my consciousness. The stream contained words and feelings. It said, ‘Isn't this fun?’ ‘This’ referred to the entire human drama as well as our little meeting and was accompanied by the lightest sense of fun and mischief, which I saw reflected in the sparkling eyes across from me. We giggled. Ron looked up and the moment was gone. I had encountered Cosmic Bob.”
Now that the laboratory had been updated, Mark Certo began to work with Skip Atwater and Dave Wallis on a number of experimental projects. Being a very approachable person, he soon found himself questioned about the uses and possibilities of Hemi-Sync by those attending courses and by visitors, including doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, engineers, and professionals in a variety of disciplines, all interested in ways of using the technology in their own practice or research. What principally motivated all of them, he concluded, was their desire to discover as much as they could about the enigma of consciousness.
One of these professionals was a young computer scientist, Paul King. Since graduating in 1970, Paul had been working commercially on designing computer systems. Among his interests were the study of human consciousness, psychic phenomena, philosophy of the mind, in which he had taken a course at Stanford, and meditation. After nearly twenty years he resigned from his employment, having become convinced that a change of direction was essential. He moved from California to an island off the coast of Washington State and began seeking a career that would enable him to contribute something worthwhile to humanity. Meantime, he had read Monroe's first two books and, his interest awakened, he attended a Gateway program in March 1989. He decided to take a year off to work as a volunteer for the Institute, developing computer tools for the exploration of consciousness. He brought his family with him and began work in the lab, where he wrote a much improved binaural beat generating program as well as a program to reverse-engineer binaural beats from brainwave data. His efforts led to the complete automation of the production of Hemi-Sync, saving much time and improving the quality. Paul's improvements also added to the flexibility of programs for the researchers and Explorers using the isolation unit. In return, Paul himself was able to make use of regular personal exploration sessions, which he found very rewarding.
Other professionals who were attracted to the Institute included a neurologist, Dr. Edgar Wilson, founder of the Colorado Association for Psychophysiologic Research, and Jungian psychotherapist Bernice Hill. Wilson had been researching consciousness since the late 1970s and was especially interested in the influence of sound on brainwave patterns, in particular, when binaural beat frequencies were employed. He also worked with healers, especially with Rod, a seventy-seven-year-old cowpoke from New Zealand, recording the changes in brainwave frequency both in Rod himself and in the subject he was treating. He noted with interest that when Rod was at work his and the patient's frequencies coincided, and when he stopped working the frequencies went their separate ways. Wilson discovered that the Institute was one of the few organizations with a laboratory where consciousness itself was studied and he worked there examining the effects of Hemi-Sync on the brain for what he described as “one of the most frenetic months I'd ever spent.” In pursuit of this, he developed taped exercises based on the Fibonacci series, a progression of numbers derived from Pythagoras that is reproduced in the branching of plants, in DNA and RNA, and in the dendrites and neurons of the nervous system. Wilson also put together a small team consisting of Mark Certo, Skip Atwater, and Teena Anderson to see if they could emulate the structures of sacred geometry with the use of the Fibonacci series reinforced by Hemi-Sync.7 Sadly this brilliant man died from cancer in 1992, his work incomplete. His fascinating essay, “The Transits of Consciousness,” can be found in Using the Whole Brain, edited by R. Russell (Hampton Roads, 1993).
Confident in the ability of his audio engineer, Monroe began instructing Mark on the art and philosophy of Hemi-Sync application. This confidence extended so far that he felt sufficiently comfortable recording his voice tracks in the lab instead of in the privacy of his log cabin. Mark soon became aware of how hard Monroe was on himself and on the quality of his performance, at times blaming some ailment or illness for being, as he thought, inadequate. When things were going badly Mark would call a halt and both of them would drive out for a hamburger and an hour or two of casual conversation at Truslow's in nearby Nellysford. Monroe insisted that Mark should read Journeys Out of the Body and told him about the problems he was having with the book he was currently writing, especially having to find time to focus on it while so much was happening at the Institute. These, however, were not the only problems he was facing. It was becoming clear to Mark and to others close to Monroe that certain personal concerns were beginning to wear him down. His own health was not good, but, more significantly, for some time Nancy also had been feeling unwell. Now they learned that the diagnosis of breast cancer was confirmed.
As the number of programs increased along with the sales of the tapes, the staff numbers continued to grow. By 1990 the Institute had twenty-one full-time employees, many with impressive titles including “director” and “coordinator.” There were also eighteen trainers, many of them professionally qualified in their own fields, who visited to train the residential programs, and ninety-three Gateway Outreach trainers, with Maxine Lorence as coordinator, who were qualified to present two-day workshops in the United States and overseas. The physical fitness of course participants was catered to by Maxine's husband Larry, an ex-Olympic trainer, who conducted early morning fitness sessions in the Residential Center. With Monroe becoming less involved with the day-to-day management, Scooter now handled the tiller with a sure touch.
One of those who attended Outreach training was Stefano Siciliano, also known as Kala, an American living in West Germany with his German wife, Susanne. They were the founders and directors of the Rainbow Bridge Institute situated on a mountainside above Heidelberg. Stefano first came across Monroe in 1973, when his eye was caught by the jacket of Journeys Out of the Body in a southern New Jersey bookstore. He crossed paths with this book for many years, reading passages here and there, but avoided buying it until he noticed the title in a reading list issued at a seminar he attended in Munich in 1989. Acting on this, he contacted the Institute and ordered it, together with Far Journeys. He discovered that episodes in both volumes reflected and explained his own out-of-body experiences. His interest now fully captured, Stefano obtained the “Introduction to Hemi-Sync” demonstration tape. Almost immediately the recorded sound signals brought him, he said, into a profoundly coherent whole-brain state, and as a practiced meditator he was astounded at the effects of Hemi-Sync on his consciousness, especially the state of expanded awareness he experienced. He found that his out-of-body experiences became more frequent and more dramatic, and, he recalled, nonphysical beings began to visit him—or maybe he just became more aware of them. Now wholly enthused, he bought the in-home Gateway program, and shortly afterwards flew to Virginia, taking Gateway, Guidelines, and Outreach training within a year. Conversations with Bob Monroe and Scooter led to him suggesting that he should introduce Hemi-Sync to Europe. “Let's do it,” was Monroe's reply.
To begin with, Stefano offered programs to some of the American communities then living in Germany. This proved disappointing, however, as their responses, he felt, lacked both freshness and openness. He then discovered an alternative group active in Poland that provided free meditation sessions and a variety of self-improvement modalities. He offered to introduce Hemi-Sync to this group, and his first demonstration to an audience of over fifty was well received. Encouraged by this and equipped with two nonverbal cassettes carrying Hemi-Sync signals created for him by Mark Certo, Stefano made repeated trips across Poland, being welcomed enthusiastically. At one point he was invited to Warsaw to take part in a televised program—a sort of “Good Morning Poland”—with a panel of physicists and two English-speaking hosts. In a twenty-minute slot Stefano was able to describe the effects of sound on consciousness and how that might apply to various disciplines. Much of Poland heard about The Monroe Institute and Hemi-Sync that morning, with special reference to sleep deprivation, accelerated learning, and expanded awareness.
Hoping to take advantage of the success of this program, and observing the success of the Silva Mind Control books recently translated into several European languages, Stefano proposed that Bob's books be translated similarly. Surprised by the lack of any response, he nevertheless continued to present seminars, moving into Slovakia and Hungary, followed by invitations to the Czech Republic, Russia, Greece, and Malta. Having to keep costs as low as possible, bearing in mind he was working alone and had to meet his own expenses, he was able to respond to only a few of the large number of inquiries. For a weekend seminar in Eastern Europe he charged each participant the equivalent of nineteen to thirty dollars, depending on the distance he had to travel. No one was refused for being unable to meet the cost. He sold what nonverbal tapes he could carry as cheaply as possible, with participants often pooling their meager funds to buy one tape to share between five or six of them. Groups varied from 40 to 120, many of whom traveled long distances to attend, sometimes sleeping out in the open or in the rented seminar room and carrying brown paper bags with a block of cheese and a loaf of bread for the weekend. Stefano ran these programs for about two years until, feeling exhausted and lacking the funds to continue, he decided to call a halt. His enthusiasm for promoting Hemi-Sync overseas did not evaporate, but the failure of the Institute to provide financial help made him aware that a different approach was needed. For the time being, however, this would have to wait.
While still living in the Gate House, Monroe had been able to keep an eye on the program participants as they came and went. Some were seminar groupies eager to try out the latest fad, seeking some sort of kick—some fantastic experience to equal or surpass their latest psychedelic trip. Most, however, were what he regarded as the “bounce-backers,” those like himself who were not afraid to take risks or who had learned a few of life's rules and faced whatever confronted them with courage. With these he felt a strong affinity; it was as if they shared the seminars together. But one effect of the move to the top of the mountain was to detach Monroe from frequent contact with participants in the Institute's programs. With a competent senior staff under Scooter's direction now in place, including Programs Director Dave Mulvey and Projects Director Julie Mazo, he could afford to leave the running of the Institute to others. Apart from his two evening talks and his presence at breakfast on the last morning, he was seldom visible around the Institute buildings unless he was glimpsed entering or leaving the laboratory.
Yet, now in his mid-seventies, he was working as hard as ever. Aware from comments by some of the senior staff that the Guidelines program needed rethinking, he began voicing a revised and updated version, extending it by a day, incorporating more exercises in Focus 21, and adding an individual session in the laboratory's “black box” as part of a new Personal Resource Exploration program, designed by Darlene Miller. The new version was launched in February 1989 and was immediately in demand. Moreover, with Far Journeys now in the bookstores, Monroe was striving to complete his final statement, Ultimate Journey. Now that the H-Plus and the new Guidelines programs were up and running, he thought he would be able to put all his efforts into finishing the text, intending it to be published in 1990. But this was not to be.
Despite the progressive nature of her illness, Nancy continued to take as full a part as possible in what was happening at the Institute. After so many failed marriages, Monroe had found in her a partner with whom he could share his daily life as well as his paranormal experiences. He once remarked that people liked to think of him and Nancy up on the hill spending their time thinking about and delving into “the mystic.” “In fact,” he added, “we're watching game shows like Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and wondering what to have for dinner—just like everyone else!” “Mystic stuff” was confined to the log cabin, when Bob wasn't amusing himself composing, playing with the idea of writing a novel, or practicing on the Lowrey organ.
To the Institute itself, Nancy made a huge contribution. “Were it not for her,” Bob wrote, “there probably would not have been any such organization. She participated in all major and minor discussions and decisions, activities, and even research.” Nancy had also taken major responsibility for the interior design of the Residential Center and David Francis Hall, as well as enhancing the surroundings of the Institute buildings with trees and shrubs. When in December 1988 it was decided to expand the Center by adding a new wing, incorporating a spacious dining room, an exercise room, and a treatment room, as well as more CHEC units and several shower-rooms and toilets, it was Nancy who attended to all the details and designed the dining area to the last detail, including the furniture and tableware. As Monroe said, “It is impossible to be at the Institute without encountering the result of her thoughts.”
An outstanding feature of the improvements to the Center was the external tower housing a staircase leading from the base of the building to a railed open space on the roof. Its construction created a raft of problems. The first attempt proved disastrous, and Monroe invited Joe McMoneagle to take over. McMoneagle had taught himself how to build by trial and error supplemented by studying instructional books. It did not take long for Joe to discover that the best way to rectify the disaster and finish the task was to begin at the top and work down. The job was nearing completion when he arrived one morning to find a gang of builders beavering away on the final stages, hired by Monroe to complete the construction as quickly as possible. This, as it proved later, was not the best idea Monroe ever had, and fifteen years later the tower had to be rebuilt.
Foulis Castle Tower
What was most remarkable about the tower, however, was not the manner of its building but its design. In 1990 Bob's younger brother and sister-in-law, Emmett and Alice, visited Foulis Castle, near Inverness, ancient seat of the Munro/Monroe clan, and took a number of photographs, including some of the castle's tower. Foulis had been totally rebuilt in the mid-eighteenth century, as the medieval building it replaced, which according to the records also had a tower although no illustrations of it appear to exist, had fallen into ruin. When Emmett received an Institute brochure including a picture of the Monroe Institute's new tower, he immediately mailed his photographs to his brother. Although the dimensions of the two towers are not identical, Foulis being larger, their proportions are similar; both have four stories, both are octagonal with similar pitched roofs, both are embedded into the main building, and both have access to the roof with similar iron railings at the access point. For Bob Monroe this demonstrated an undeniable connection with what in Ultimate Journey he referred to as his “I Then,” and he incorporated a description and photograph of the tower into the text.8
The Nancy Penn Center
Now as the months passed Nancy's state of health was cause for increasing concern. It was ironic that this was so, as she remarked to Laurie on one of her occasional visits from Florida where she now lived, as she had always thought that Bob would be the one to go first. When that happened, she hoped that Laurie would move to the Institute to do whatever was required of her. But now the situation had reversed and it was Bob who had to face the prospect that his partner might not have long to live. This being so, he turned his attention to an idea that had been around since February 1986, a proposal for a project that had never come to fruition. He discussed this with Nancy and with her encouragement resolved that the time was right for it to be revived.
This project was initially devised by Ruth Domin, director of volunteers at the Hospice of Chattanooga. This gentle and very determined lady had attended a Gateway program in 1983 and kept in contact with Monroe thereafter. It was her idea to investigate the use of Hemi-Sync tapes with hospice patients. The hospice nurses, together with other health professionals and a corps of volunteer support practitioners, introduced patients to selected taped exercises designed to promote relaxation. The purpose was to ascertain whether these exercises helped patients to deal with their pain, fear, anxiety, and loneliness, so that the end of life might be experienced as a natural event within the warm environment of the family. They were carefully monitored to ascertain what benefits, if any, these exercises provided. The project was headed by Ruth, who herself was later to be diagnosed with cancer.
After a number of trials it had become clear that the materials available were of only limited use. Ruth saw that exercises with more specific purposes were needed. During the 1987 Professional Seminar she headed a group under the title of “Life Transitions” to develop and test a package of Hemi-Sync tapes for the support of patients and their families, and also for health care providers who had to deal with terminal illness, death, and bereavement. Two pilot tapes were produced and used by hospice patients in Chattanooga. That, however, was as far as it went, as Ruth's own health was failing. In 1989 she died and the project fell into abeyance.
Recalling Ruth Domin's project, Monroe soon became aware that its scope was too limited. That was not all. As he records in Ultimate Journey, his more recent out-of-body experiences had presented him with what he described as a particular mission of service. He came to understand that Nancy's progressive illness demanded that this mission be defined and transformed into practical reality with no loss of time. In consultation with her he began work on a new program, to be called Lifeline, which he saw would be “a kind of death insurance.” To him, this program might also provide what he described as “a way that Nancy and I could meet if one of us left the physical.”
From many points of view, Lifeline was a risky venture. To begin with, the frequencies employed were designed to lead participants beyond Focus 21, hitherto regarded as the boundary of the time-space continuum and the farthest accessible stage within the compass of human consciousness. Then the program was based on the premise that consciousness was immortal, that when the body died consciousness simply continued to be. This was, to put it mildly, controversial, but that did not deter participants when, in June 1991, the program was launched. It proved an immediate success.
Lifeline was not the only program that stemmed from Nancy Monroe's illness. When Shay St. John, now a minister of religion, was visiting, she offered to drive Nancy to the hospital for a chemotherapy treatment, followed by lunch together afterwards. During the treatment the needle was misplaced and the chemo leaked into Nancy's hand instead of flowing into her bloodstream. The nurse warned her that her hand would turn black and she would be in much pain. It seemed there was nothing that could be done about it, so they decided to have lunch anyway before going home. As they settled at their table, Nancy's hand began to swell and showed signs of blackening. To distract her, Shay, knowing Nancy's love for dolphins, told her a story about how they have been known to assist whales during the birth process. Nancy closed her eyes, visualizing seven dolphins flowing through her bloodstream. Shay and Nancy together focused their thoughts on these dolphins, encouraging them to find and eat the chemo that would then transmute into their favorite food. During lunch they both continued to focus on Nancy's hand. The swelling began to decrease and the skin color to lighten. By evening the hand was normal.
As a consequence of this, the Dolphin Energy Club (DEC) was brought into being. This is a remote healing facility introduced by a purpose-made taped exercise issued to those who have taken programs at the Institute and have signed on as DEC members. Requests for healing are co-coordinated at the Institute by Shirley Bliley, who succeeded Leslie France as director of the Professional Division, and circulated to members who report on what they have visualized and detail any impressions they may have received. It was never the intention that DEC healing would be analyzed or scientifically validated; it is simply a method of directing healing energy wherever required. The awareness that this is happening may in itself be of benefit. From hundreds of reports sent to the Institute since the program was initiated, it appears that a majority of DEC recipients have received positive results from the process.
Monroe was now seventy-six years old. The Institute's future was secure, the courses were filled, and the sales of products continued to increase. Ultimate Journey was, he hoped, nearly ready for submission to the publisher. But his mind was not at rest. Nancy's illness was not yielding to treatment—how much longer would she have to live? And what would happen to the Institute when he was no longer in control? Whom could he trust—and what did the future have in store?
Notes
1. The accounts referred to are described in chapter 6.
2. To begin with the booth was equipped with a TV camera, which required low-level lighting, and with mechanisms for vibrating the waterbed, so it may have been these items that encouraged Monroe to suspect that it might be put to nonscientific use. In any event, neither proved necessary and both were soon withdrawn.
3. Although it was not a particularly sophisticated device, the synthesizer proved effective in many ways, including as an aid to meditation for a group meeting weekly for nine years in Cambridge, England.
4. New Land residents refused to have road names and signs until the county authorities said they were essential for the emergency services. Residents on each road collaborated on names, mostly descriptive or poetic. David Mulvey and Rick and Patty Lawrence were the only residents on their cul-de-sac. Dave asked Rick if he had any ideas. “Sure,” said Rick. “Gasp Court.” “What's that about?” asked Dave. “It's an acronym. It stands for ‘Give a shit, people.’” “Gasp Court” it remains.
5. When learning to pilot a light aircraft, Outreach trainer Cheryl Williams linked seven H-Plus functions together to help her pass the various tests. She is confident that this helped her to pass all of them.
6. The Gifted Subject program did not involve the use of Hemi-Sync signals. The subject, wearing the twenty-channel brainwave transmitter, entered the “black box” in the laboratory unit and was asked to visualize using a unique talent—composing a piece of music, healing a patient, writing a poem—whatever it might be. The readings were recorded for later analysis. Interestingly, it was noted that at special moments of insight the brainwave frequency peaked, moving into the gamma band. At this time gamma frequencies were not employed in the creation of Hemi-Sync materials.
7. The Fibonacci series was discovered by the Italian mathematician Leonardo Fibonacci (ca. 1170–ca. 1250). It is a sequence in which each number is equal to the sum of the preceding two (0,1,1,2,3,5,8, and so on). It can be observed, for example, in the growth patterns of many plants. Thirteen patterns derived from Sacred Geometry are combined with two Metamusic compositions in “Light Source,” an item of computer software issued by The Monroe Institute in 2004.
8. See chapter 10. The Foulis Castle tower photographed by Emmett Monroe dates from the rebuilding of the castle initiated by Sir Harry Munro after the 1745 rebellion and bears the date 1754. Monroe was mistaken in assuming that it was part of the twelfth-century castle, but that does not detract from the remarkable similarity of the two constructions nor from his belief that the Foulis tower builder-architect was a constituent of his own “I There” (or “I Then”), as described in Ultimate Journey.