Adamson's Civilization

Adamson Project Journal
[Updated 7/14/07]

July 14th Journal

The Adamson Project is the search for the remains of a civilization that was started over 37,000 years ago by Adamson, the first son of Adam and Eve. The Adamson Project Journal posts progress reports. "Get a clue; then FOLLOW IT!" recounts the unusual circumstances that led to the creation of both the Adamson Project and UBtheNEWS.

Read the Latest Journal...

The Adamson Project: A case study in “Get a clue; then FOLLOW IT!”
[Updated 4/25/07]

My first big clue came when I was a boarding student at Phillips Exeter Academy. I followed it and it got me kicked out of school.

At the time I had no idea that I was following a clue or where it would take me. There was no way of knowing that getting kicked out of school would be the first step on a search for the remains of an advanced civilization that began over 37,000 years ago. A quarter century would have to pass before I figured out how to connect all the dots. But, to be sure, the incredible adventure started right away.

According to The Urantia Book, over 37,000 years ago an advanced civilization was started by Adamson, the first son of Adam and Eve. Obviously, The Urantia Book's account is different than the one found in the Old Testament. It happens to be significantly more detailed. And apparently, at least if the information on this website is any indicator, vestiges of Adamson's civilization can be found near the southern end of the Caspian Sea in Iran.

If you do not know about The Urantia Book, going to the Home Page of UBtheNEWS.com is one way to begin to appreciate what The Urantia Book is all about. Why am I pursuing the discovery of Adamson's civilization? For an answer to that question, just keep reading. But be forewarned, not only is this a case of "I have to tell you one story to tell you another one," I actually need to tell you several stories.

For those who do not know anything about Phillips Exeter Academy, it is arguably New England's most prestigious boarding school. When I was there in the late seventies, it also had a reputation for strict discipline, a "one strike and you're out" kind of place.

At about 3am on a crisp October morning in 1979, I was leaving the Exeter campus to go to an event that was, shall we say, not officially sponsored by the Academy. So when I heard a car engine start up about a block and half away, just as I was leaving campus, I figured it had to be campus security. Under the circumstances, erring on the side of caution definitely required such an interpretation. Though, considering I was out at 3am, I suppose erring on the side of caution was not my forte. In any case, it would have been very easy to just bolt into any number of conveniently located back yards to avoid further detection. This, certainly, was my first inclination. But before I had a chance to analyze possible escape routes, a compelling "message" broke through the surface of my consciousness and the message (not audible, simply in the form of a "loud" thought) was "Don't run!"

The best analogy I can make to this experience is that it was like having an attack of conscience. But in this case, it was not so much about right and wrong; clearly the "right" thing to do was to run. I was not feeling guilty about where I was going and what I was doing. This transcended the standard right/wrong dichotomy. This was more like a creative admonishment along the lines of what would be best for me. Common sense weighed heavily in favor of running away. It took an extremely loud thought to overcome this. The experience was sufficiently powerful; I did not run.

So there I stood, thinking that I should run and feeling that should not, as I listened to and then watched the security patrol car pull up beside me and offer to give me a ride to the Dean's house for some early morning conversation.

Back then I knew nothing about The Urantia Book and was agnostic. Following "inner guidance from God" was not something I related to at the time. But in hindsight, I think this must be what happened because the way things have unfolded since then have been so extraordinary and highly unusual. It is said, after all, that God works in strange ways. This episode set off a series of events that have continued to get increasingly strange as the years pass.

Had I not been kicked out of Exeter that fall of my senior year (did I mention that it was my senior year?), I would have been co-captain of the Exeter wrestling team. As fate would have it, though, Worcester Academy, another of New England's fine prep schools, allowed me to finish up my high school education with them. Perhaps it is not obvious and bears mentioning how extremely rare it is for this type of "transition" to occur, especially in one's senior year! I cannot say for a certainty that I am the only one to whom this has ever happened, but getting a diploma from a New England prep school after being there less than a year is pretty much unheard of. I am not saying it took a divine intervention to get me into Worcester Academy, even if that is what it took to get me out of Exeter. Being a wrestler certainly helped me get a foot in the door.

In fact, it just so happened that Worcester Academy was in the same sports league as Exeter. It also just so happened that at Worcester Academy they did not elect team captains until the end of the season. This allowed the one-year seniors a chance to earn the title of Team Captain and thus be able to put it on their resume for college. At Worcester the coaches would designate a different athlete at each competition to be the Team Captain for that day.

When Worcester wrestled Exeter that year, it was held at Exeter. Bonus! Guess who got to be team captain that day. My former teammate, for some strange reason, did not realize what a poor strategy it would be to attempt a certain unorthodox wrestling move that I was well-known for in the league and had taught him the previous year. It did not take long before he was wrapped up in a little ball with his butt above his head. The referee slapped the mat and that was that.

This was all very satisfying to my adolescent sensibilities. It was a nice little confirmation that following these "inner leadings" may not be such a bad idea after all. But the fun did not stop there. It also just so happened that Exeter was hosting the New England championships that year. Did I mention yet that I was undefeated my senior year?

The point of this story, of course, is not about sweet revenge. It is not about getting back at one of New England's finest prep schools for their draconian measures. The experience has these aspects and sometimes I still enjoy regressing, I mean reminiscing, in that way. Nonetheless, the more important point is that I followed powerful inner guidance that flew in the face of common sense; that doing so led to consequences that were extremely difficult to bear; and that very soon this led to extraordinarily uncommon and positive experiences that could never have occurred had I not followed the guidance.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

The wrestling experiences were just the beginning of the extraordinary circumstances that followed getting kicked out of Exeter. Another strange thing occurred in the wake of my early departure from Exeter, but this would take twenty years to appreciate.

When I started attending Worcester Academy, a peculiar and vivid daydream took root in my consciousness. Having spent over three years at Exeter, I suppose it was perfectly natural for me to have daydreams about the place. But what did not seem perfectly natural about this experience was the persistence and peculiarity of the vision that developed and occupied my thoughts for about ten years.

Exeter held half hour assembly programs for the entire student body three morning each week. All manner of presentations occurred at these events, from guest speakers to performances to matters of school business. The vision that started to burn in my brain was one in which I saw myself on this stage before the assembled student body singing "It's Only Rock and Roll" by The Rolling Stones.

This was not my favorite song. This was not my favorite band. I did not sing or play music. I had just gotten kicked out. So naturally, this persistent and vivid daydream seemed very odd to me. About four years after college it ceased to occupy my thoughts. (Okay, technically speaking, it took another six years for me to finish up the last few credits that I blew off in my senior year of college. And no, I do not have some persistent psychological problem with finishing academic endeavors, as is evidenced by the fact that, after I finished up those credits, I went on to complete a law and business degree in the normal four-year period.)

Anyway, getting back to the vision/daydream, whatever you want to call it, I know you know where that is leading. But before I finish that story I have to tell you another story!

This story has already been published. It is published as the Prologue to my first book, The Logic Of Love: Finding Faith Through The Heart-Mind Connection. It is reprinted below just as it appears in the book:

The dress code at Phillips Exeter Academy required coats and ties above the waist, but permitted jeans, even shorts, below the waist.  This administratively adopted schizophrenic approach to apparel represented an attempt at balancing Ivy League intellects with adolescent bodies.  The academics were advanced and the facilities were fantastic, but aside from that, it had all the same social dynamics as any other high school in America.

Culturally speaking, Exeter was the epitome of preppy, and anyone who broke out of this stereotype assumed certain risks.  Adolescence, of course, provided a heaping helping of ostracism for deviants.  But attendance at Exeter was supposed to be a ticket to the good life.  So, the price of nonconformity had a premium attached.  Nonconformity was blasphemy because it meant a rare opportunity was being foolishly squandered.  We were being prepared for corporate culture.  The name of the game was Coloring Within The Lines.

Consequently, an expectation of the ordinary pervaded the student body whenever student council presidential candidates gave their campaign speeches.  Our highest hope was to be amused.  This usually came in the form of watching a peer sweat under the pressure of public speaking.  They tried their best to be compelling, and we tried our best to be polite.  The only thing out of the ordinary the year my classmates were running was that Scott Greene sat on stage, waiting his turn.  

Scott was not your typical student.  There was nothing preppy about him.  His hair was long.  He often wore it under a bandanna tied gypsy style.  That's why Scott had been affectionately nicknamed Gypsy.  To those of us who knew him, he was a bright light of kindness.  But as a candidate in this race, he was a dark horse indeed.  

When it was Scott's turn to speak, we could see immediately that his agenda was bigger than the election.  He was writhing with excitement and consumed with passion.  Neither protocol nor preparation could shepherd him through the experience.  With a certain degree of reluctance, he apparently allowed a desperate muse to enter his body.  He seemed both possessed and self-aware.   

At first, he tried to use the microphone.  Then, he apologetically cut loose from the tether and, stepping away from the lectern, made sure that his natural voice could reach the ears of all those present.  Unprotected by the lectern's safe harbor, he began tacking back and forth across the breadth of the stage.  We all watched in amazement as Scott sailed forth with a plea for a student body dedicated to the values of love, honesty, and forgiveness.  He spoke briefly on the importance of these values as they related to student life and ended his talk by affirming that his purpose was to deliver the message, not to get elected.  In less than one minute he accomplished what he had set out to do.  So, with touching humility, he thanked us for indulging him and returned to his seat.   

Scott won, and I learned something.  Love transforms the individual and transcends cultural differences.  It empowers people and unifies communities.  Love accomplishes more than it sets out to do; it is the self-created miracle in our lives.  Scott's election inspired hope and revealed the good in others.  I had never witnessed a friend take such an extraordinary stand for love.  His willingness to do so opened the doors of opportunity wider than imagination.       

There is a direct connection between that day and this book.  Scott was a catalyst for helping me focus on what I had been striving to create in my life.  He took the ethereal sentiments of the heart and crystallized them into expressible values.  His courage was inspirational and his election affirmed the transformational power of love.  On that day I learned that with love, anything is possible.  

Thanks Scott.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Obviously, the Exeter assembly stage is very meaningful to me. In fact, it was a presentation by Greenpeace at an assembly that inspired me to want to take a year off before college and go work for Greenpeace. And it was while working with Greenpeace in Santa Cruz, California that a co-worker introduced me to The Urantia Book.

You will probably not be surprised to learn that the inspiration for writing The Logic of Love came directly from my early experiences with The Urantia Book. But that is not the focus of this story. The point is simply that I wrote a book and wanted to promote it. I also wanted to develop myself as a speaker, so naturally the Exeter assembly stage seemed like a great place to get started, given that Gypsy and Greenpeace were such wonderful inspirations. Notwithstanding the circumstances of my departure, I had spent the vast majority of my high school experience there. I have always felt more connected to Exeter than to Worcester. And besides, Worcester does not have such a regular and ongoing assembly program.

It is important to understand that at Exeter, if you ever attended for even one day and no matter what the circumstances of your departure, you are always and forever considered an Alumnus. It's an "All is forgiven; please mail us a contribution for the Endowment Fund," kind of thing.

My book came off the press about a month before I was planning to take a trip to New England in the fall of 1999. Perfect timing. I headed up to Exeter. Introduced myself as being from the Class of 1980. Kept quiet about the circumstances of my departure. Told the woman in charge of the assembly program about my book. Offered to do a more general, non commercial, talk about peace on earth. No problem; "Love to have you."

A couple months later she called me back to say that the Friday of my upcoming 20 Year Reunion weekend was not booked for assembly. "Would like me to book you for that Friday? Save yourself a trip." "Yes, that would be just fine. Thank you."

Going back to the 20 Year Reunion as the assembly speaker after having gotten the boot was definitely my idea of good time! The wrestling experiences were great. This was something way beyond that and no thesaurus is going to provide me what I need to express it. This type of thing just does not happen. But it did. And I have witnesses, lots of them.

Soon mail started to arrive announcing the upcoming reunion weekend and the scheduled events. And what do you know, it just so happened that friends of mine, who had formed a band when we were students, wanted to reunite and be the entertainment for the Saturday evening festivities.

After I read about this I immediately remembered the vision that burned in brain for all those years. And then I reread the announcement about the band. And then I thought about the vision again. At that point the Cheshire Cat had nothing on me.

So I called up the boys in the band, told them about the vision, and asked if they wouldn't mind showing up a day earlier with all that fine PA equipment they were planning to rent anyway, so that we could rehearse It's Only Rock and Roll Thursday night and then play it at assembly after my talk on Friday morning.

Guess how those conversations went.

They went well. They went very well.

All these things came to pass. The talk. The song. (Fortunately, I had picked up guitar and started singing in college.) It was a wonderful weekend.  We balanced our memories of the past with inspired discussions about peace on earth and impossible dreams coming true beyond our wildest imagination. Most of the class had not arrived by Friday morning, so naturally everyone wanted to hear about it.

It was then that I realized that I had been given an answer to a very important question. The question was, "Am I in God's good hands?" and the answer was a well-amplified "Yes." It is one thing to accept as matter of one's faith that we are in God's good hands. It is quite another to be bathed in an experiential appreciation of it. It is often said that God has a plan for all of us; that God's plans are far reaching and beyond human comprehension; and that God works in strange ways. Personally, I am satisfied with the truth of these assertions.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

So what does all of this have to do with Adamson's civilization and The Urantia Book? Well, I've told you those stories to tell you this one:

As you already know, I took a year off after high school, went to Santa Cruz, worked with Greenpeace, and discovered The Urantia Book. The Urantia Book has a number of qualities that have always impressed me. One quality, however, was not immediately apparent when I first started reading the book in 1981.

The Urantia Book was first published in 1955. It takes time to see how writing stands up to the test of time. The scientific advancements that occurred in the first twenty-five years after publication were dramatic, to be sure, but not nearly as dramatic as what has occurred since then. Most Urantia Book readers are not inclined to monitor the relationship between advancing science and the historical and scientific information in the book. They are inclined to appreciate it because it answers a lot of cosmological questions, because they find it spiritually uplifting and philosophically engaging. Nonetheless, the authors of The Urantia Book put its credibility on the line by making a lot of statements about science and the history of our planet. Eventually this aspect of the book was destined to show up as credible, problematic, or bit of both. As it turns, at this point in time at least some of the information in The Urantia Book is remarkably corroborative.

Increasingly, Urantia Book readers with scholarly inclinations are becoming aware of intriguing scientific developments that lend credibility to the scientific and historic information presented in the book. And as I began to learn more about this, in September of 2006 a certain perspective started to dawn on me. The "Don't run!" guidance was not as much for the purpose of having extraordinary experiences in relationship to getting kicked out of Phillips Exeter Academy. It was more for the purpose of having extraordinary experiences as a result of getting kicked into Worcester Academy.

IT JUST SO HAPPENED that when I attended Worcester Academy, about twenty percent of the students were Iranian! That means I just might be able to interest them in finding the remains of Adamson's civilization near the Caspian Sea in Iran. Interesting my musical friends from Exeter in helping me fulfill the vision about playing It's Only Rock and Roll at assembly was just the warm up (and a very nice warm up, I might ad). Interesting my former classmates from Worcester in finding Adamson's 37,000-year-old civilization, now there's an impossible dream beyond my wildest imagination just waiting to come true, just waiting for the conversations to take place.

I must say, my initial encounter with these Iranian students was somewhat of a culture shock. Generally speaking, compared to the American students, they were significantly more mature, more faithful, more emotionally balanced, more gracious and kind, more studious, and more disciplined. Quite frankly, I found it a bit embarrassing and humbling.

After Worcester Academy most of these students went on to attend Worcester Polytechnical Institute, where they would get degrees in the sciences. Faithful, scientifically minded Iranians are exactly the kind of people that just might be intrigued by the prospect of participating in the discovery of the vestiges of Adamson's civilization. And who better to introduce The Urantia Book to these people and encourage them to help with the discovery of Adamson's civilization? Maybe there is something to do beyond triumphant returns to Exeter. Maybe those prep school experiences were just preparatory steps.

When I started to envision myself looking up these former classmates with whom I've had no contact for over a quarter century, I realized that being able to provide a reasonably concise and comprehensive appreciation for the ongoing corroborations of science and history in The Urantia Book would be important. Some Urantia Book-reading scholars have written on these subjects for a Urantia Book-reading audience. But no comprehensive effort had been made for presenting this material to a non Urantia Book-reading audience. I realized that it would be valuable for me to be involved in this effort. This is how and why UBtheNEWS was first conceived and initiated.

First impressions are, of course, very important with this type of endeavor. Fortunately, IT JUST SO HAPPENS that two of most powerful corroborations of the history in The Urantia Book both have to do with Adam and Eve. (See the Garden of Eden Report and Adam and Eve Report.)

So there you have it. Basically, I am hoping to somehow find a way to live up to and honor the very peculiar and highly rewarding experiences that I have had in connection with getting kicked into Worcester Academy. Who knows what will come of this endeavor. So far, just preparing to look up my former classmates has been sufficiently rewarding to make it all worthwhile. As the saying goes, "The act is ours; the consequence is God's."

I'll keep you posted.