Carlos Alvarado’s Author Interview with James Carpenter

Carlos S. Alvarado, PhD, Research Fellow, Parapsychology Foundation

In this, the second of the series of author interviews, I have the pleasure to interview Dr. James C. Carpenter, a clinical psychologist and Adjunct Professor in the Department of Psychiatry at the University of North Carolina, at Chapel Hill, who has a long track record in parapsychology. I met Jim some time in 1983 when I was visiting, I think in the Summer, the Institute for Parapsychology, part of the Foundation for Research on the Nature of Man (now the Rhine Research Center).

Dr. James C. Carpenter

Dr. James C. Carpenter

Jim has published over the years many important experimental studies of ESP exploring psychological variables. In this interview I focus on what is probably his most important contribution to parapsychology, his First Sight Model. This theoretical model has been briefly discussed in articles (here, here, and here) and in greater detail in the book referred to in this interview: First Sight: ESP and Parapsychology in Everyday Life (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2012; to order the book go here). While there have been other psychological models of ESP proposed before, Jim’s is the most comprehensive one published and one that is well connected to the research literature of parapsychology as well as mainstream psychology.

Carpenter First Sight


Can you give us a brief summary of the book?

First Sight is a fairly big, densely packed book, but I can give a partial summary.  The first two sections develop a model of the mind and a new theory of psi – what it is and how it works and what it is for in everyday life.

Here’s a big part of the gist of first sight theory.  First of all, psi is always going on.  That is, every person is always actively engaged at an unconscious level, with an indeterminately huge amount of reality.  This engagement has an active, expressive side, and a receptive, becoming-aware-of side.

Our minds are always actively engaged with things, even when we are asleep or feel like we are doing nothing.  This engagement is both conscious and unconscious, and involves aspects of reality both within our sensory boundaries, and outside of those boundaries.  When the engagement is conscious and within the sensory boundaries, this is what we know as ordinary experience and action.  When the engagement has to do with chunks of reality that are outside the ordinary sensory boundaries of the person, we call this engagement “psi.”  The active, expressive aspect of this we call “psychokinesis,” and the receptive, coming-to-know side we call “extrasensory perception.”

Think of it this way, focusing just on the familiar stuff, the engagements that are within the sensory boundaries.  I sit here with my beautiful Lenovo laptop.  If I engage it actively, I peck at the keys.  We call this “action” or “intentional behavior.”  If I gaze at it in appreciation or consternation (depending upon how well it is working) we call this “seeing” or “taking in.”  In one case I’m physically doing something to the computer, in the other I am taking in an awareness of it.  Still staying inside the sensory boundaries, we know that “action” and “taking-in” go on unconsciously as well as consciously.  I do many things without clearly knowing why I am doing them, or even exactly that I am doing them (say, keeping my balance as I walk to another room).  Such actions are automatic, not clearly conscious, but still intentional.  On the receptive side, I am constantly bombarded with sensory impressions that are too faint to register consciously, or too much outside of my focus to get my attention.  Even though these impressions are unconscious they can still act as unconscious primes and influence my experience in various ways.  So, okay, let’s agree about this:  within the sensory boundaries, action and taking-in go on both consciously and unconsciously.

First sight theory adds to this picture by saying that unconscious action and taking-in also go on with reality that is ongoing beyond the sensory boundaries.  Like what goes on within the boundaries, this out-of-bounds action has both an active and a receptive side, is always going on, and is always guided by our unconscious goals and intentions.

Unlike the sensory engagements, psi engagements are always unconscious.  This is a kind of action and a kind of taking-in that is never conscious.  Why?  Because consciousness comes from sensation.  Without sensation there is no consciousness.  As the phenomenologists say, to be aware is always to be aware of something.  The something is always some kind of sensory engagement (even if it is only an “inner” sensation of memory or imagination).  Because psi is beyond the sensory system, it can never be conscious (or remembered or imagined).  We can only know about it by inferences we can draw from its effects.  Sometimes the inference is especially obvious, and we call it a psychic experience.  Some people are especially good at drawing these inferences, and we call them psychics or mediums or healers.

What is it that guides our unconscious transactions with reality, both sensory and extra-sensory?  It is our unconscious intentions.  Where do our unconscious intentions come from?  They primarily come from our conscious intentions, especially the ones that we are strongly holding at the moment, or that we hold habitually.  Our goals, our sense of our needs, our deepest wishes, our longings – these things all take up residence within our unconscious functioning and guide it.  They guide our sensory transactions and they guide our extrasensory transactions.

If all of this continuous, hypothetical psi is unconscious, is it of any use?  Yes, it is very useful!  It has the same sort of use that priming studies tell us unconscious sensory information has – it orients the development of experience and behavior.  It helps to prepare us to perceive and respond optimally to whatever is about to unfold.  Since psi goes on beyond the bounds of any possible sensory experience, it is the first glimmer we get of reality, the first step in all perceiving and acting.  We use it every moment.

Of course, there is more to the theory than this, but this is a central chunk of it.

One important implication of the theory is that psi is normal, a continuous part of our normal unconscious cognitive functioning.  This means that it must work smoothly and harmoniously with the other aspects of this unconscious processing, such as memory, creative problem solving, and perception.  It also means that psi should be affected by the same sorts of things that affect these processes in more or less the same ways.  There has been much more sophisticated research about these mainstream concerns than there has been about psi, so borrowing from the findings in these areas is permissible and useful.

In the next two sections of the book I examine this premise and attendant theoretical ideas, with fairly exhaustive reference to a lot of research in parapsychology, along with relevant research from mainstream laboratories, focusing on subliminal perception, various kinds of memory, creativity and openness, and the effects of fear and personality (especially extraversion) on both unconscious sensory processing and psi.  I think in the process I do demonstrate how psi fits into these other aspects of unconscious functioning, and also manage to clear up some long-standing problems and apparent inconsistencies in our psi literature.  The model works!

The next section of the book takes the theory beyond the research literature, and uses it as a framework to examine other problems, including why psi isn’t much evident in everyday life, how one can try to develop psi functioning, and how psi is expressed in the context of psychotherapy.  Then I discuss some prescriptions for further research, and some implications for the next developments in a science of psi.

Some other nice summaries of the book have been offered by reviewers, so your readers might want to consult those if they are considering reading First Sight.  For example, they can see Ballard (Ballard, 2014), Bem (Bem, 2012), Leary (Leary, 2012) and Pasciuti (Pasciuti, 2014).

What is your background in parapsychology, and with the topic of the book specifically?

 Rhine The Reach of the MindI’ve been actively involved in parapsychology since high school, when I carried out some sloppy studies in card guessing based on what I read in Reach of the Mind, by J. B. Rhine.  The results were good and fascinating so I got myself to Duke for college in order to find out more about it.  There I came to hang around the Parapsychology Lab quite a bit, helping out here and there and attending research meetings.  I did the only honor’s study the psychology department ever allowed on ESP, supervised by Gaither Pratt and Kay Banham.  I got to know Rhine well, and gained a remarkable band of life-

Dr. Joseph B. Rhine

Dr. Joseph B. Rhine

long friends about my age (in particular Chuck Honorton, Rex Stanford, Bob Morris, Dave Rogers, John Palmer, Ed Kelly and B. K. Kanthamani) who were also being groomed by Rhine to succeed him.  I was a little more skeptical about psi than most of the others, and I went to Ohio State for a PhD in clinical psychology, but I also kept up some research on ESP as I could find time.  I’ve kept the research up ever since.  My skepticism faded, but I remained frustrated that psi seemed to make so little sense in light of everyday experience.

 What motivated you to write this book?

The long-term motivation was a deep resolve to try to know if psi was real, and if so, how it works.  I’ve been pondering this for a long time, wanting to see what our research was telling us, and trying to imagine how it might fit in with all the rest of human functioning.  The more immediate spur happened when I was trying to raise funds for the Rhine Research Center and was frustrated with trying to convey to non-parapsychologists why I thought the field was so interesting and important.  In particular, I was vexed with the frequent experience of having a great conversation with some research psychologist, bringing psi up, and suddenly hitting an awkward wall of silence.  All of a sudden I seemed to be from Neptune.  This was extra confusing because I could see that the methods and findings of their field and parapsychology were so similar.  I thought, maybe I can develop a model in which I could pose a common language for parapsychology and mainstream psychology, and this could underscore our commonality and make our communication easier.  I thought I would work up a nifty little paper in a couple of months.  Several years later, I had the book.

 Why do you think your book is important and what do you hope to accomplish with it? 

 I may just be too close to it to see the gaping flaws, but I really do think that I am spelling out a lot about how psi works and where it fits in and how we should go about learning more about it.  This is important, but it’s quite different from the way we are used to thinking, and I want other people to get their heads around it.  Then I hope they will use it, criticize it, test it, improve it, build on it.  Right now, I want people to read the book.  If any of your readers do read the book I want to advise them to be patient and thoughtful with it.  People who read it carefully tell me that it takes them a while because it is full of somewhat unfamiliar ideas.  They say that it is worth it (of course these are the people who are still talking with me).  It’s somewhat densely written, but I think well written and quite understandable.  I want them to leave Chapter Two until the end, because it is especially dense.  Why should people read it?  Because I want parapsychology to have a future that is scientifically solid, not just more generations of intriguing odd ideas which appeal to the mystically inclined.  Research in any field that just consists of single cool ideas and findings always blooms briefly and then disappears.  What lasts is research that is programmatic.  We can’t have programmatic research unless we have an overarching model of how things should work and what questions we should ask, and some theoretical ideas to start with that can be pursued.  First sight gives this sort of model and theory.  I hope it’s true.  I hope it isn’t true.  I don’t care.  What I really hope is that it stimulates sustained research that builds toward a solid understanding of this largely hidden side of our nature and shows how it is not anomalous and aberrant.  It’s a solid, useful, potentially predictable but still largely mysterious, part of the amazing privilege of being human.


Ballard, J. (2014, January-February). Review of First Sight: ESP and Parapsychology in Everyday Life. Explore: The Journal of Science and Healing, pp. 59-60.

Bem, D. (2012, December 19). ESP is not a psychological anomaly: A review of First Sight: ESP and Parapsychology in Everyday Life. PsyCritiques, Article 6.

Leary, M. (2012). Review of First Sight: ESP and Parapsychology in Everyday Life. Journal of Parapsychology, 76. 373-376.

Pasciuti, F. (2014). Book Review: First Sight: ESP and Parapsychology in Everyday Life. Journal of Scientific Exploration, 28, 525–529.

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Parapsychology’s Experimenter Effect

The experimenter effect should not be any surprise to parapsychologists.  If any psi study is successful it is because a correspondence has been found between participants’ responses and the targets they aimed at.  But what are the targets?  From the point of view of the participant they are not at all available.  They are what they are because of the intentions of the experimenter.

I am speaking here from the point of view of my first sight theory, which holds that a psi target is never consciously perceived or consciously acted upon.  It is something we only engage unconsciously — as in fact (from this perspective) we engage virtually everything all the time!  Which of these countless engagements result in expressions in behavior or action that allude to the target is determined by the unconscious intentions of the participant in the context of his or her conscious and unconscious appraisal of what is of primary concern in the moment.  Part of this contextual appraisal has to do with the intentions of other important people in the situation.

We can say that the meaning of psi targets to the participant in an experiment is simply their meaning to the experimenter, the experimenter’s intention that these targets will be accessed by the participants.  The experiment is a social situation of interweaving intentions.  Probably most often, the participant intends to comply with the intention of the experimenter and succeed at the task.  For most experimenters who want to learn about psi and to avoid the pain of feeling their work is futile, their intention is that the participants succeed.  But what about the case where the intentions of the experimenter are negative, or partly negative?  What if the experimenter wishes, at least in part, for failure?  Then the nature of the targets is changed.  The targets become negatives of themselves, at least in part.  To succeed will then be to fail to comply with the explicit task in order to fulfill the secret one.  If the targets are only partly negated by mixed intentions on the experimenter’s part, participants must respond to this mixture, and surely give a desultory performance.

We may object to this characterization because we know the targets exist independently of the experimenter or anyone else, and we assume that it is these autonomous objects that the participants make reference to in their responses.  But why should we assume that?  The targets are not available to the participant.

If the participant were carrying out a study alone, aiming to respond to some unknown thing (the well-being of a distant person, the location of a lost item) then only the participant’s intentions define the concerns in the situation.  Only those intentions will channel the expression of psi.  In an interpersonal context other intentions become involved and contribute to the outcome.  Most things, most often, have an important interpersonal context

We all know what it is like to participate in interpersonal situations with their mixtures of intentions.  The intentions of the most dominant people will be most salient generally, and if one wishes to please them or defy them one’s behavior will be guided accordingly.  “Learn this algebraic rule,” says a beloved and impressive teacher, and the students tend to quickly learn.  If a weak or disliked teacher says the same thing, or if a normally decent teacher lacks any heart for it that day, the students will learn less well because their attention will drift to competing concerns willy nilly, following their own independent intentions.  The group loses cohesion, each student becomes an individual guided by private concerns, there is little group product.

In such ordinary learning, the dominant instructor sets the tone, the emotional, meaningful context, for the learning task.  This tone conditions all the learning.  This is not because the dominant instructor makes them learn.  It is because the students take the dominant person’s intentions as an important cue about what matters in the situation, and choose (unconsciously) to respond accordingly.  In a parapsychological experiment, the experimenter (and any other dominant figure in the situation) sets the tone, creates the context in which the intentions of the participants take shape.  The target that is to be apprehended in an ESP task, or produced in a PK task, is essentially an intention of the experimenter, positive, negative or mixed.

Some experimenters seem to get from their participants a much higher rate of successful results than others do.  Their characteristic intentions must be a major factor at work.  The most successful experimenters I know seem to be quite persistent in wanting good results and cheerful and optimistic about expecting them.  Their participants tend to feel that they are being invited to go along on a zany and interesting ride.  The less successful experimenters often convey moods of doubt, ambivalence, cynicism or pessimism, whether about parapsychology or other matters of importance to themselves.  So, let us tend to our unconscious intentions!  They do not create our results unaided, but they contextualize them.

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Shall We, Can We, Should We?

I learned about experiments from books and professors I remember dimly, but I was taught to do experiments by Gaither Pratt.  He advised my Duke honor’s undergraduate project.  The subject was ESP, but it could have been pigeon pecks or the aggressive acts of kindergartners, which I studied soon after.  I learned some scripts of objectivity with which I could avoid deceiving myself and misleading others.  I observed the actions of others, took numbers from them which I whacked to dust with mechanical calculators, and then sifted the residuum statistically to see what I learned.  I learned a good lesson – that ideas that seem and feel entirely true can be seen to be false in the sunlight of a good method.  I learned the skill of distrusting my own rhetoric. This disappointment was the first seed for me of what a later professor called the scientific superego. I learned some techniques of objectivity, a kind of dissociation with which I can separate myself from my own wishes and also from those fellow humans I observe.  They become subjects, seen through lenses, and their many wishes and my splendid ideas are held in abeyance.

We all build up such skills and understandings, bricks in the conceptual building we construct and use and inhabit.  We forget about most of this structure as we busily use it.  Frequently enough, things come along that surprise or distress us, and we must search down, pull out some brick and examine it.  As George Kelly said (Kelly, 1955), we reconstrue.  This goes on as long as we can think.  The results of all the work accumulate into what we call wisdom.  Then even wisdom bears revision.

I have never needed to turn against my scientific superego or scientific method (the roles, the attitudes and hypotheses, the measurements and analyses).  I remain grateful to Pratt for these big lessons.  However, Pratt taught me other things by implication, and some of them seem to bear examining.  I learned that this kind of observation is generally desirable, and that it is possible, and that the results of carrying it out are to everyone’s good.  Did he question these things?  He might have, he was a thoughtful man.  But I expect that he put such questions off to some future time when we might be more certain of the sheer existence of psi, and have some ideas about how it works.  Time enough then to worry about these other things.  Time now.

Personally, I am now sure enough that the construct of psi refers to real things in nature, and I believe that we have already learned more about how it all works than we have appreciated (see my book First Sight (Carpenter, 2012) for an extended discussion of this).  So, Dr. Pratt, let us consider some other questions.

Should experimenters scientifically observe participants?

In the standard model, one group of people, the Subjects or Participants (Ss or Ps, I’ll stick with Ps from here on) produce some measurable behavior and another group, the Experimenters (Es) observe it and measure it and count it.  In the parapsychology study, the Experimenter is to observe possible evidence of psi, the Participant is to produce it.  These two distinct roles assure our objectivity and keep us honest.  They are also obviously artificial and arbitrary.  For one thing, I know of no E in our field who has not been, and sometimes still is, a P (at least in her own private musings).  After all, there are two general ways to explore some confusing area of mystery and potential order.  We can use the toolkit of science and ask highly structured questions, or we can hold the questions up before ourselves in the loose-knit laboratories of our own lives, and see where they take us.  Do we wonder if dreams can be precognitive?  We can note our dreams for a while and compare them to subsequent events as they unfold in daily life.  This is a loose and informal sort of investigation, but it is serious.  It’s the method we use to test all of the ideas with which we try to guide ourselves.  Do I imagine that smiling more will evoke more friendliness from other people, or that investing in the stock market will lead to wealth?  I try such things out and see.

Lots of people are interested in parapsychological questions, but almost all of them use only the informal methods.  Some of these people seem to get very good results and develop complex and apparently useful ideas.  We think of them as psychics or clairvoyants or mediums or healers.  From the point of view of the pure E, they are still Ps, but they are Ps that can be tested by Es, and then we seem to have the standard model working just fine, perhaps sifting high-grade ore.

But there is an implicit side of this, to do with power.  Listen to the pure E and you will catch the little sniff of aristocracy.  Spend time with the pure P and you will feel a restive edge of rebellion.  Questions flow down from Es and information flows up from Ps.  We know that this is the structure of hierarchical power (Boulding, 1989).  It instills order and causes trouble.

It seems less orderly but it causes less trouble to soften these roles, to acknowledge that every E shelters a P within, and every P wants clear truth and in some way aspires to be an E.  In fact, these roles are already mixed up in our work.  One of the most astute people I know in discussions of parapsychological theory and method is also one of our most highly acclaimed psychics.  At our last convention, two scientific papers were authored by people who also participated in the generation of psychic data as “special” Ps (Black, 2014; Katz, 2014).  Similarly, in one of the most meaningful projects for which I was an E, I was also one of a group of Ps (Carpenter, 2012).  It left me with great data, but also with a permanent shift in what I expect of my own experience.  I think it will be healthy to embrace this trend consciously and explicitly.  If this were the business world, I would say we need a flatter organization. We all have different gifts and will tend to specialize, but let Es and Ps theorize together, plan studies together, ponder results together.  I think again of Dr. Pratt.  He was an E for sure.  One weekend the Duke laboratory staff acted like a bunch of Ps when Timothy Leary visited with his LSD-25 and his vague enthusiasm about psi.  While everyone else tripped, Gaither stayed stone sober, moving about taking notes untainted with hallucination.  We always need people like him.

There is another kind of pure P whose wishes we need to consider.  These are the people who believe that they have much more psi than they want.  They write us emails complaining about the voices that tell them other people’s thoughts, the expensive electronic equipment that breaks from being in their presence, the strange sounds and drafts in the newly rented condo.  They do not doubt psi, but they may wish to be rid of it.  Some of us have broadened our purview lately to declare an official interest in these “experiencers.”  We may never be sure that they are or are not dealing with psi as we know it in the laboratory, but they hope that there is some important way that we can understand them and we hope so too.  Some experiencers, especially the ones who are persecuted or angry or apparently delusional or grandiose, create discomfort in others who listen to them.  Few want to.  Even psychiatrists rarely listen any more.  They focus their eyes on the prescriptions pads, and avoid the searching eyes that face them.  We may never become Es with some Ps.  Roles that are a bit blurry can help here too.  If we wear the hat of pure E, such people seem noisy and confusing.  As fellow humans given to mystery, we can take in the stories with respect, say what we know, then send them on as best we can to knowledge or help.

Can Experimenters observe Participants objectively?

It doesn’t take a lot of reflection to realize that, given the constructs we work with, it is easier to separate Es and Ps in the social script of an experiment than it is in the unconscious Somewhere in which psi does its work.  What is a target in an ESP experiment?  Is it a piece of hidden cardboard, or an unplayed video clip, or a number latent in a software queue?  I think it is basically an intention of the experimenter.  Specifically, it is an intention of the E that the P will make some particular response.  Perhaps P wishes to cooperate.  In the Somewhere, our wishes commingle.  If psi is always going on, as I believe, this must be true of all of our situations.  Then can E study P’s psi, without the psi of E confounding the situation?  I don’t think so.  Can we tease them apart and make meaningful conclusions?  I think we can, but this is a work in progress.  Some believe that most of our findings are really due to the power of a few secretly psychic stars wearing lab coats and pretending to be Es.  Certainly E is in a privileged position.  A P in a ganzfeld study can use psi to guide one data point, her own response.  E can pick the method of randomly determining targets, which if done propitiously and psychically, can influence in one fell-swoop all of the correspondences between responses and targets.  Personally, I work with the assumption that everyone uses psi all the time (first sight, again), so I don’t think that the Ps will ever have any less access to the psychic Somewhere than the Es.  But we have tended to design experiments that give Es more potential influence.  I don’t know how to clear this up, but I am glad that many of us are now thinking about the problem.

Should our scientific work on psi succeed?

An odd question, maybe, but I have been worrying about it since the 1970’s.  I had done a series of studies trying to predict ESP scoring of unselected Ps, while using their work in a repeated-guessing design to try to increase the efficiency of the overall output.  I was slated for a AAAS presentation, and decided to try to do a demonstration project in which I would use this technique to retrieve some Morse-coded verbal information, and show that a laboratory-based experimental procedure could serve as a practical means of communication.  I picked the word PEACE for sending and retrieving.  One hundred and ten UNC students volunteered to guess several sets of randomly-shuffled columns of +’s and O’s while filling out mood checklists, not knowing that they were guessing at the same targets repeatedly or that a coded message was involved.  I used their moods to predict their ESP performance and rendered the data into a final list of dots and dashes.  The damned thing worked!  I remember a feeling of awe when the last letter fell correctly out of the calculations.  Out of thin air, and from the effort of those students, fluttered the word PEACE.  In my elation, an association popped into my mind: Alexander Graham Bell calling out to his assistant on the first telephone.  Predictably, right after grandiosity came fear – what harm could psi technology do?  I reported the study, but the fears lingered too – so much that I declined any more formal report for over 15 years. (Carpenter, 1991)

According to J. Robert Openheimer, (Bird & Sherwin, 2006) right after the first atomic bomb detonated, he thought of the legend of Prometheus, who was punished by Zeus for giving humans fire, and right after that he thought of the wish of Alfred Nobel, that dynamite might end wars.  He remembered the time before the test as “heavy with misgiving.”  We might sympathize.  Our own efforts have been dotted recently with efforts to apply psi – mostly in predicting markets.  If we are learning some of the important variables in the operation of psi, building experimental machines made of people for its application is not far off.  This will be as different from the development of an individual’s psychic gifts as constructing airplanes is from training good high jumpers – even though both get a person off the ground.  Some of our colleagues believe that psi can never be made reliable by the nature of things.  We might hope they are right.  I think the evidence so far is against them.  If they are wrong, what will we unleash?  Let us try to look ahead.  The ethics of science must include concern with the consequences of success.  I don’t think success will be stopped.  Nature is there, and we will continue to learn.  As Oppenheimer said, “There are no secrets about the world of nature.  There are secrets about the thoughts and intentions of men.”  We hear his agony over seeing people of power (the generals, the politicians) taking everything away from people of knowledge.  He was tortured by secrets, but he could count on them.  We all count on them, our opacity to one another, to keep the world as we know it to be.  But what if we untie the secret, as Oppenheimer untied the atom?  What then?


Bird, K., & Sherwin, W. (2006). American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer. New York, NY: Vintage Books.

Black, C. M., & Carpenter, J. C. (2014). A self-study of the role of mood on ostensible PK. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Parapsychological Association. Concord, CA.

Boulding, K. (1989). Three Faces of Power. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Carpenter, J.C. (2012a). First Sight: ESP and Parapsychology in Everyday Life. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

Carpenter, J.C. (2012b). Spontaneous social behavior can implicitly express ESP information. Parapsychological Association. Durham, NC.

Carpenter, J. C. (1991). Prediction of forced-choice ESP performance: Part III: three attempts to retrieve coded information using mood reports and repeated-guessing technique. Journal of Parapsychology, 227-280.

Katz, D. L., & Beem, L. W. (2014). Explorations into remote viewing microscopic organisms (“The Phage”) and the effects of biological scientists’ exposure to non local perception within a multidisciplinary approach. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Parapsychological Association. Concord, CA.

Kelly, G. (1955). The Psychology of Personal Constructs. New York: Norton.

 Reprinted from Mindfield, 6.3, 2014, with permission

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