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The Human Journey
(life needs to be lived, though it is not always understood)
I remember when I was very young, that there were days when I felt very old. Even then, I felt a certain type of inner fatigue….why does life have to be so hard I would intuit, if not actually think it out. Of course, life was not always hard when young, but it was the times of struggle, and fear, that made the biggest splash in my small pond.
I used to like to sit and listen to adults talk. Not sure why that was so, but they were more interesting than children my age. Did not understand everything, but one thing that stood out was how often disappointment, failure, and sorrow took up a lot of time, aside from the gossip I guess. I would sit there and wonder, why do adults suffer so much? I understood suffering, anyone who has been on this planet for any length of time, knows that. Even someone five, or six, years old. It is not the whole story, but I have known no one who has not been through ‘something’ that leaves a lasting impression. Adults, for me as a child, were another life form entirely. I guess I never thought I would ever become one, but I did…..it is still a shock.
I did not like being a young child. I found it scary for some reason. I remember being picked up and placed here and there, which I did not like. Being afraid at night, and unable to get out of my crib, or seeing strange dark objects in the corner of my room. Yes, I had a good imagination. Still do, though now life is not so scary, at least the way it was when I was young, very young. Children are much more aware than many adults believe. Those who remember ‘way back’ into their life, say even in their crib, or two years old, understand this. We can see, hear, and interpret life around us, often in ways that are more ominous than they really were.
In a house in Steelville, Mo., there was a narrow walkway outside our front door. It seemed a long run to me, but of course it was not. However, that small space scared me, and I would crawl, and stumble, and sort of run through it. I would plunge out of the front door and land on my knees….still have the small scars that show it. I was terrified of that small space, an empty space, a safe space, yet I was terrified. I remember many years later, when I was in my early 30’s, telling my mother about it. She was amazed that I never told her and wondered why I was always skinning my knees. It never occurred to me to tell anyone. It was just life, which was the way things were. I had no way to judge what was good or bad, life was life.
I have very few nightmares now, perhaps one a year if that. I think the reason is that I reached my limit at about the time I reached 10 years of age. I used to have nightmares every night, and I guess I knew I was dreaming. I could feel my eyelids trying to open. It would start with a green fog slowly flowing into the dark forest that I found myself in. It was a gravel path I was standing on, and it was cold and clammy. There was also music, which made the whole dream worse. It was like movies that I saw when older that were scary movies. Then the zombies would come, people who would shuffle trying to get me. I would try to run, but the gravel path was really difficult to navigate, and my legs were heavy and hard to move. I was never caught, and when I found someone who I thought would help me, they would simply laugh at me. Funny thing, I was never afraid to go to sleep, nor did these nightmares follow me throughout the day. Then when I was ten, they stopped. I do think the nightmares came from a time in my life when I was two. I guess I outgrew the fears that plagued me, or they lessened enough to end the need to dream them.
There were also many good times when young. There was laughter, peace, a feeling of being safe, good meals, happy holidays, and my parents were always around. My dad worked long hours in the gas station in East St. Louis, my older brother Skip helped out. We always had a place to live, and we never went hungry. So in many ways, my life as a child was peaceful and happy. It was my own inner life that caused me so much trouble.
I do not think that my childhood fears are unusual. Children feel everything too the depths of their being, it is later I guess, that I learned to repress. I would have this long hallway in my mind, and I would get something unpleasant and simply put in a room and lock the door. I guess I have been trying to unlock those doors ever since. I think I may be about halfway through that long hallway. So if I live to be 140 years of age, I may get to the last door.
Now I am at the opposite end of my life. Soon to be 70, I find myself happier and at peace. I did not like being young, but I do like getting older. Not that it is easy of course. Not sure any time of life is easy for us here in this world of constant change, at any stage. The fragility of getting older is, of course, different than when I was very young. I can think about it, perhaps understand the process a little better, and even find meaning in it. When young I think it was about clinging to life, learning, and simply taking the next step. Now I guess it is about letting go and finding a certain peace and joy in that. I can see the end, more or less. I am aware of the light more than when young, but how close it is, that day when the light becomes the most real ‘thing’ in the world; not sure. It is close, but by that I mean, it could be 20 years in the future or more. I could live that long. However, since the last 30 years have passed so fast, I am sure that the next will speed up even more.
My faith is different than when young. I do not feel I have to convince anyone of my faith in Jesus Christ. If someone attacks me for being Catholic, I just smile and tell them that I do not argue over faith issues anymore. I see how hard it is for me to change and grow, to become a more loving person, so it is not all that hard to make jumps for others. My only business is to seek to love others more. Now that keeps me busy. I still fail more than I succeed, yet one step at a time O Lord.
I am thankful for many things. I can now make friends, in the past, it was difficult for me. I was always on my own, I took care of myself, did not feel the need for anyone. It was of course based on fear. Now that I now that I am anxious more than angry, it helps me to be more open to a ‘few’ very close friends. Yet I also have friends that are not close in that way, but I love them very much. So yes for me, getting older is much better than being very young.
Fragility is something that those who live to be ‘older’ learn. We have to let go of long-standing ways of doing things. I can’t run upstairs anymore, nor can I lift heavy objects, because of my back. I no longer have the energy to easily do what I could when young. My mind gets befuddled more than when young, and I need to spend more time alone, though I always needed lots of it. Fatigue is now my constant companion. I see how I fail more than I get it right, but have learned after many dark times, to understand that God’s ‘YES’ is always that, it is never ‘no’. That can come from me…I still wrestle with God.
I am not in control, never way actually. I am not perfect, I believe I sort of knew that when young. I certainly have less answers than when young, and am happy about that. Even though my faith in God’s love deepens, I understand less about how he works…..that helps me to lessen my childish judgments about others. That is a burden that I am glad is getting lighter.
God is faithful, I am not really, yet because of that, because of his constant fidelity, I find myself becoming the sort of person that I actually like. I know my gifts, well some of them. Since they are gifts, I am thankful, but the credit goes to God’s grace, my DNA, my education and the influence of my family on me. So I have a lot to be thankful for. Yes, life is hard but is taking us somewhere.
Not all agree with me, but that is ok….from birth till death, we all walk the same road. So let us try to love, listen, and support each other. To speak truth gently, and to become more like the God who is kind to the thankful as well as the unthankful. I find myself it both camps, yet experience God’s kindness, compassion, and mercy. –Br.MD
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The darkness in my hair
brings out the darkness in my eyes
brings out the darkness in your stare
behind your innocent disguise
What used to be all light and sunny; never
A funeral pyre that’s forever
We could think on all that’s lost
regardless of the cost
but the point would be moot and fruitless, ever after
Let it burn, why don’t you?
Live and learn, I’ll hold you
while the spirit dwindles down
to the dust, back to the ground
and the things you thought forever seek to fool you,
a love you thought so fast to once control you
What’s over now has taken its last bow:
memories in your sleep to enfold you
the darkness you were warned is upon you
poem © Goddess of the Mist
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Haunted Charleston, South Carolina
By Paul Dale Roberts, HPI’s Esoteric Detective
Halo Paranormal Investigations – HPI International.
10/13/2018: Awww...the best part, coming back home again. There were a few mishaps on this para-adventure. On Alaska Airlines going from Sacramento to Seattle, Washington, Deanna Jaxine Stinson was sitting to the left of me and an unidentified woman was sitting on the right of me and I spilled my ice on her. Luckily, I finished my Coke. I apologized profusely. When we arrived at Seattle International Airport, we got off on the tarmac. We had an all night layover in Seattle and Deanna and I, fell asleep on the couches. In the morning, a woman sat on Deanna's hair bun and propped her feet on my back pack. Deanna angrily pulled the back pack from her feet. This rude lady just laughed and carried on with her business. Seattle is a very beautiful city, but it's no fun sleeping all night in the airport.
VIDEOS FROM CHARLESTON, SC
SEATTLE UNDERGROUND: HECTIC HELEN
If you are a paranormal enthusiast or paranormal investigator, don't forget to investigate the Seattle Underground. The Underground was created when the city rebuilt on top of itself after the Great Seattle Fire of 1889, is renowned for paranormal spirits thought to be the neighborhood’s notoriously murdered, unrequited souls. Many deaths happened in the underground. Hectic Helen is one of the demented spirits that haunts the Seattle Underground. It is believed that Hectic Helen was a murdered prostitute from the Underground and her bloodied corpse has been seen lying on the ground. Maynard Daniel of Denver, Colorado took the ghost tour at the Seattle Underground and a woman with 1800s sleazy garb on approached him and asked him if he wanted to have some fun? Maynard thought for sure it was an actress for the tour, only to see the woman bleeding from her torso all over and fall to the ground. As she hit the ground she dissipated. GHOST IDENTIFIED: HECTIC HELEN.
OLD CITY JAIL
One of the places that Deanna and I investigated is the Old City Jail. This jail sits on 4 acres and is part of the history of Charleston earliest settlements. The jail was operational from 1802 until 1939. Address: Old Charleston Jail; 21 Magazine Street; Charleston, SC 29401
This jail housed some of Charleston’s most infamous criminals, such as Lavinia Fisher. Lavinia and her husband John were publicly executed because of their guilt of being highway robbers. Other members of the Fisher gang stayed at this jail. The gang was accused of robberies, murders in the Charleston Neck Region. This jail also housed Federal prisoners from the Civil War. Confederate soldiers were kept in jail. The jail made room on the square to be alongside a hospital, poor house, work house for runaway slaves. Other inmates of this jail were 19th century high sea pirates, who were jailed here in 1822 and waited for their execution by hanging. Denmark Vesey planned a slave revolt and became a jail inmate. Vesey spent his last days in the tower, before being hanged. Jacque Alexander Tardy was held here from 1825-27 for attempt to steal a pilot boat, also responsible for innocent John Gibson being tried and hanged for his 1817 piracy. The jail has also been popular with TV shows such as Syfy Channel’s former Ghost Hunters; Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures and Destination America's Ghost Brothers.
Deanna being psychic was able to envision some of the inmates from this jail being beaten by other inmates, or being beaten by guards. Deanna could hear the screams from past tortured inmates. EVP that we captured was..."kill the screw!" GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: OLD CITY JAIL GHOSTS. After the jail we were headed for 3rd Eye Lounge - 1418 Remount Road, Suite A, North Charleston - this is a metaphysical store. Unfortunately, we did not make it to 3rd Eye. Things got busy. There is so much to see in Charleston. A place that you should visit is the Charleston Tea Plantation, hundreds of thousands of tea plants grow there, under the grand oaks.
Before I go on about Charleston, SC, you are probably wondering how we got there. Here is the itinerary.
October 11, 2018 Thursday - DEPART SACRAMENTO
Alaska 800 Confirmation: LEWZTA
Depart Sacramento 8:25pm
Arrive Seattle/Tacoma 10:20pm
October 12, 2018 Friday - ARRIVE CHARLESTON
Alaska Flight 728
Depart Seattle/Tacoma 7:15am
Arrive Charleston, SC 3:33pm
October 13, 2018 Saturday - DEPART CHARLESTON
Confirmation # LEWBIY
American Airlines Flight 5427
Depart CHS Charleston, SC 12:45pm
Arrive CLT Charlotte, NC 1:54pm
Depart CLT - CLT Charlotte, Flight 665 /NC 2:39pm - ARRIVE SACRAMENTO
Arrive DFW - Dallas 4:28pm
- Dallas flight was canceled due to thunderstorm. We were able to get a direct flight from Charlotte to Sacramento. When we flew out of Sacramento, we dropped off my car with Gina de la Rosa and Gina drove us to the airport. Gina also picked us up at the airport when we came back. Gina, if you are reading this, a BIG THANK YOU!
Depart DFW - Dallas 6:45pm - Flight 1252
Arrive SMF - Sacramento 8:40pm
THIS IS WHERE WE STAYED:
Hawthorn Suites by Wyndham Charleston
Check in: Friday October 12, 2018 3pm
Check out: Saturday, October 13 11:00am
2455 Savannah Hwy, Charleston, SC 29414-5323
Budget Rent-a-Car set us up with a nice shiny black vehicle. A funny thing is when we received our GPS for our vehicle, one of the places set on the GPS was the Calhoun Mansion which is featured on the Bravo reality TV show Southern Charm. A fan must be stalking one of the show's actors. Charleston, South Carolina is one of the most haunted cities. Some of the haunted areas are:
Magnolia Plantation and Gardens. This plantation belonged to the Drayton family since 1676. The plantation is now owned by 12th and 13th generations of Draytons. This plantation has one of the most beautiful gardens in the world. Reports say that deceased previous Draytons haunt the Magnolia Plantation and they are friendly spirits. GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: DRAYTON SPIRITS.
PROVOST DUNGEON PIRATES
Provost Dungeon is a pre-Revoluntionary dungeon that incarcerated criminals, patriots and pirates. Some witnesses have made claim that they saw ghostly pirates talking amongst themselves. GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: PROVOST DUNGEON PIRATES.
THE POWDER MAGAZINE SOLDIERS
The Powder Magazine is Charleston's oldest building. Many ghosts haunt this building. This building is located at 79 Cumberland Street in Charleston, South Carolina, USA. Completed in 1713, it is the oldest surviving public building in the former Province of Carolina. It was used as a gunpowder store through the American Revolutionary War, and later saw other uses. There have been many witnesses that have seen American Revolutionary soldiers near and around this building, holding their weapons. GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: THE POWDER MAGAZINE SOLDIERS
FORT SUMTER GHOSTLY SOLDIERS
Fort Sumter is where the Civil War began. Quick History Lesson: From Wikipedia: "The First Battle of Fort Sumter began on April 12, 1861, when Confederate artillery fired on the Union garrison. These were the first shots of the war and continued all day, watched by many civilians in a celebratory spirit. The fort had been cut off from its supply line and surrendered the next day. The Second Battle of Fort Sumter (September 8, 1863) was a failed attempt by the Union to retake the fort, dogged by a rivalry between army and navy commanders. Although the fort was reduced to rubble, it remained in Confederate hands until it was evacuated as General Sherman marched through South Carolina in February 1865." Witnesses have seen Confederate and Union soldiers near and around Fort Sumter. The soldiers seem unaware of the witnesses and at times are shooting guns at each other. This sounds like a residual haunting at Fort Sumter. GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: FORT SUMTER GHOSTLY SOLDIERS.
Let's take a break from the ghost stories. A great place to visit and to shop for your Halloween costume is: Hokus Pokus;
1015 St. Andrews Blvd; Charleston, SC 29407. Deanna found all kinds of cool things to purchase and now has a great costume for the upcoming Vampire Ball. The employees are friendly, courteous and very helpful. This is not like your franchise Spirit of Halloween that sells the same costumes year after year. With Hokus Pokus you get THOUSANDS of original costumes never before seen anywhere! If you are in Charleston, I highly suggest shopping at Hokus Pokus for your next costume!
SLAVE SPIRITS OF BOONE HALL PLANTATION
Boone Hall Plantation. This plantation has been around since 1681. It covers about 470 acres. The owner was Theophilus Patey, and his daughter Elizabeth, along with her husband Major John Boone. This land was given to them as a wedding gift and became known as Boone Hall Plantation. John Boone was one of the first settlers of the South Carolina colony and he arrived in 1672. Many witnesses report ghostly apparitions of African slaves in the field. Derek Crossing from Charlotte, North Carolina says when visiting the plantation, he saw a ghostly African slave in the field. The apparition appeared to be a woman in her 30s. He approached the figure and then the figure just disappeared. GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: SLAVE SPIRITS OF BOONE HALL PLANTATION.
USS YORKTOWN PHANTOM SAILORS
USS YORKTOWN: If you don't mind driving a mere 9 miles from Charleston to Mt. Pleasant, you can visit the very haunted USS Yorktown. The USS Yorktown is one of 24 Essex-class aircraft carriers built during World War II for the United States Navy. The ship is filled with residual energy of sailors of World War II. GHOSTS IDENTIFIED: USS YORKTOWN PHANTOM SAILORS.
COBWEB GHOST OF ST. ANDREW EPISCOPAL CEMETERY
ST. ANDREW - 2604 EPISCOPAL CEMETERY off Ashley River Road. Deanna and I investigated this very old cemetery, one of the oldest cemeteries in Charleston. Deanna conducted a metaphysical ritual at this cemetery burying crystal and some lava beads. During the course of her ritual, she blessed her dog tarot cards at this location. Since she blessed the dog tarot cards, she has been having visions of dogs while in Charleston and now here in Elk Grove. Deanna saw a ghostly apparition at this cemetery and when she did, I felt spider webs or cobwebs all over my face. I immediately started wiping my face to get the webs off my face and then realized I had no spider webs on my face. I was being attacked by some unseen force. An EVP that we captured there, was a woman's voice saying "depart" 3 times. After we left, we stopped by a nearby former plantation that is now a church.
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Nick Drake was an English Singer-Songwriter born in 1948 mostly known for his acoustic guitar-based songs he was reluctant to preform live or give interviews but It´s baffling to me that he failed to find a wide audience during his lifetime. Drake suffered from Depression which is clearly reflected in his lyrics and died at the age of 26 at his parante home in Tanworth in arden, Warwickshire, England from an overdose of approximately 30 amitriptyline pills (an antidepressant.) His cause of death was determined as sucide. Depression is no joke :-( . I highly recommend Nick Drakes masterpiece Pink Moon from 1972 it´s very dreamy and beautiful. Does anyone else like him here? what is your favorite drake song?
" Don't be shy you learn to fly
And see the sun when day is done
If only you see
Just what you are beneath a star
That came to stay one rainy day
In autumn for free
Yes, be what you'll be. "
(Things Behind The Sun)
nick drake 1971
Medjugorje is right there with Lourdes and Fatima
I nearly got stuck in a canyon today. I hiked into a very remote part of Colorado and down a stream bed draw. I found an old archeological dig, and then I found the alcove that I wanted far out on the precipice. Comeing back I realized I was way over my head. I’m not in the same kind of shape I used to be in. I literally sat in one of the alcoves and felt like it was my turn ( not really I’m being dramatic). I did realize a lot of danger though.
My bad knee wasn’t working right, half my water was gone, and I was exhausted. I thought I was going to have to build a shelter in one of the alcoves and rest for the night to get the strength to get out. All signs of heat exhaustion were starting to happen. My legs were quivering, I was nautious, and I was light headed. Luckily I still had water with me and I was currently hydrated but dropping fast.
I only had a hoodie with pants and really did not want to spend a night in the thirties with just that and pants. A debri shelter that will hold body heat actually takes a lot of work. It’s funny I actually teach survival skills, but today I was just being stupid. I didn’t have any fire starters and to build a bow drill to keep me warm would take hours too.
I actually sat in a diferent alcove and went into meditation to stop me from throwing up my water. I knew I couldn’t afford to loose any. It was working mediocrely, but something weird happend. I spontaneously started singing/chanting native American sounds/songs. I used to hear my mother sing them. They actually helped to focus my mediation and hold down my water. When I was feeling stronger, I applied the 10/30 method of self rescue for that situation. Climb about 30 yards to any shade if possible, rest for ten minutes, and take a mouth full of water then repeate. You cover about 100 yards an hour, but you don’t further exhaust yourself. It worked well, but dam it was tough and I’m hurting. I think I’ll use one of the closer alcoves to where I can park my jeep.
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Welcome to the first blog of the Wïççåñ`ś Bėåçöñ where I'll be touching base upon the basic info and FAQ regarding to becoming a Wiccan! If at any point there's further into you'd like to see here or want a answer to a question. Post down below and I'll add it here or in upcoming blogs. So let's begin!
What is the belief system/(s) does a Wiccan have?
Some Wiccans base their beliefs upon the equality of both the Goddess (Feminine) and God (Masculinity) while there's others believe in the balance within the universe. With that being said no matter what belief you pick as a Wiccan we all have the Divine power within.
What are the rules for Wicca?
the Rede/Creed which is the main focus within our practice which is "If you harm none, do what you will." Meaning you shall not place a spell upon another against their Freewill as this will need end well upon your behalf. It's pretty much karma what goes around will come around whether it's positive or negative.
Take FULL responsibility for the everything u do. Meaning if u treat someone poorly you must make amends why? Because u need to take responsibility for your action(s)/word(s).
What types of Wicca paths are there available for me?
Here are some paths briefly summarised for u all to find ur inner Wiccan each type that's highlighted in blue is a link to further information upon each path:
Alexandrian: Wiccan path who follow the philosophy of Alexandria.
Celtic: Path of Wicca that involves the Celt and their languages.
Dianic: A tradition that focuses upon only the Goddess and feminine forces.
Eclectic: Alternative Wiccan the one who mixes and matches other paths to suit their beliefs and needs.
Faerie: The Wiccan who believes in the fae and works with the realm of fae.
Hereditary: A path of a Wiccan who continues their magical path from generation to generation within a family.
Gardnerian: The Wiccan green thumb of the group
Shamanic: This is a path that's a combination of Shaman and Wicca.
Traditional: Follows the only traditional path of Wicca.
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Welcome to the first blog of Ałł Thïñgš Tåröt to kick this blog off let's begin with the simple basics of Tarot and some FAQ. If there are other questions you'd like to know about tarot pls comment them below and I'll both the question and answer to this blog.
What are tarot cards?
Are a deck of 78 cards which are separated into Major Arcana which are 22 cards which represent life lesson. The remaining 56 cards are our Minor Arcana which are then split into four suits Cups, Pentacles, Swords and Wands.
Within the Minor Arcana we have the court cards who are the Kings, Queens, Knights and Pages who provide the 16 personality characteristics to your readings.
Why are tarot cards used?
They are used to help provide information regarding to a situation, person or event which helps make decision making easier.
How do I use tarot cards?
1. Once you have a question in mind begin shuffling the cards in your hands. Stop shuffling when you are ready to begin the reading.
2. Pull out the amount of cards that a the spread calls upon that you are using.
3. Now refer to your deck's guide book (if you don't have one because you have either lost it or don't own one. Look up the card's meaning online).
4. Record the reading for future reference (optional) keeping a record on your readings helps you develop a better understanding towards Tarot and yourself as a tarot reader.
Continuing to place my poor fiction all in one place.
When I reached my 21st year I was eager for the first real test of my new manhood. I was well prepared, my ritual dagger at the ready, waiting anxiously for my opportunity.
Favorable circumstances alluded me, however, for many weeks, longer than I wished, being the impulsive youth that I am. Always my victim kept close association, was alert, seldom alone.
It was the first days of spring, tender buds beginning to open in the fields and gardens of the village. I think it was this innocence of the earth’s new awakening that perhaps disarmed him as we strolled one fresh morning together along a quiet forest path, the trees above beginning to flower against a clear blue sky.
We talked casually of mundane affairs of the village, then paused to view the greening valley beyond. The moment was ripe.
I reach into my cloak, my dagger feels firm and cool in my hand. I spring! I strike! Caught by surprise, he faces me, a look of startled knowledge in his eyes. He clutches his chest, hesitates, falls gently as an old tree falling silently in the forest.
Lying still in the dew grass at my feet, I stand over him. I watch him closely, dagger firmly in hand. His eyes flutter and open slowly. He stares upward as if waking from a dream. Slowly he sits, carefully rises to his feet, stands before me, his gaze peering deeply into mine.
I say, “Thank you for dying, father.”
He says, “Thank you for killing me, my son.”
We embrace. Taking my hand, we continue our walk together, sunlight filtering down upon us through the newborn branching blossoms of a fresh and new morning.
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There isn't much to tell about my earliest experiences, there were some odd things that happened to me that I cant explain. I would, even as a kid try to rationalize the things I saw, heard or felt, but this wasn't always possible. Even since I've grown up, there are a few things that simply couldn't be rationalized.
The first of these memories deals with the house I grew up in. Both my brother and I experienced, what you might call, bad vibes; feelings of unease, anxiety, and of being watched. It was very common for the room to go dead silent. No ambient noise of any kind. It was at these times you could feel the air get stale and heavy. It wasn't restricted to any specific time of day, either. I remember feeling this just playing in my room. Night time was the worst, though. I would be laying in bed an feel my hair being twirled by fingers. My grandma said this was the Devil plying with my hair; something about it being because I lied (I don't know how much I believe that. Old German wives tale, I think). There was many occasions where I dreamt that I was laying in bed awake at night. The room was dark, but I could see everything. I could see under the door that the hall light was on. I would just stare towards my door rom my bed. Then a shadow would appear in the middle of the crack under the door as if someone was standing just on the other side. Its as if my vision would then zoom in to that spot. I would see yellow eyes staring back at me from under the door. I would always wake up from this dream sweating and completely freaked out.
It only really occurred in that one room of the house. My brother and I would switch rooms every few months to, in an odd, unspoken way, take turns. My mother just assumed that we got bored of the room we were in or both of wanted the bigger of the two rooms (the scary one). Actually my mom never actually found out the full story about the room and why we were always switching back and fourth. It wasn't until I was about 30 that we were talking and she mentioned something about my sisters not liking that room either. She asked if I thought it was the same reason me and my brother didn't like it (though she didn't know what that reason was). I told her is was the exact same reason and then I told her what that reason actually was. She went wide eyed and pale. She had never noticed. I then proceeded to tell her about my other experiences throughout my life and she was shocked.
I will be sharing those other experiences throughout this blog. That's about all the time I have for today.
Thanks for reading.
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Around 11, Mum and Dad came home from the OP Shop. Mum handed me a bright yellow box which was the Rider Tarot Deck by Pamela Smith for $2. I was amazed by the price and the condition that the cards were in. The deck itself is usually $150+ when I was given the deck it lifted up my mood for pretty much rest of the day.
Since they were second hand I needed to heavily cleansed the deck before further usage from me. While I was shuffling I picked upon a female voice who introduced me to herself as "Pamela" which at the time I didn't know who created the deck till I saw the author. Anyways for my test reading of the new deck I done a reading on the effects of the Blood Moon which I'll be uploading as well on here to share.
Lately ive been having a lot of technical difficulties which I'm not understanding and it's a real head **** to deal with. Pulled a couple of cards to figure it out which was the Star in reversed and the High Priestess. "It's the electric impulses from the moon" that screamed in my head. The original meaning behind the the Star reversed really confused me but the High Priestess was simple because she represents the Moon and intuition. So I needed to be patient and the answer revealed itself as a scream.
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Well that was a short lived btreak as some may have noticed from a few postings in the forums. Due to some real life crap that goes on I was pretty messed up for a bit. I won’t go in to it so don’t ask but some RL friends recommended that I continue to come around.
so with that being said i have something in common with Arnold because I like him came back. Well minus the cyborg body that is.
John 12:20-33 Some Greeks Seek Jesus
20 Now among those who went up to worship at the feast were some Greeks. 21 So these came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and asked him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” 22 Philip went and told Andrew; Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23 And Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24 Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25 Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26 If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.
The Son of Man Must Be Lifted Up
27 “Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. 28 Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven: “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” 29 The crowd that stood there and heard it said that it had thundered. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.”30 Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not mine. 31 Now is the judgment of this world; now will the ruler of this world be cast out. 32 And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33 He said this to show by what kind of death he was going to die.
“Seeing the Glory of Jesus Christ” Year B
A couple years ago my wife and I got to visit Washington D.C. It was my wife’s first time there, so it was awesome to be able to show her all the breathtaking sights of our nation’s capital. We went to all the major places...like the White House, the Capital Building, The Lincoln Memorial, and the Washington Monument. We even got to see and tour the United Methodist Building.
Another great thing about this trip was how we got to see the Smithsonian National Museum of American History. When we were there, I discovered something I was just fascinated by...The Jefferson Bible. Have any of you, my readers, ever heard of it? When it came to religion, the great Thomas Jefferson was what you call a deist. This is a belief where God creates and sets everything in motion, but is withdrawn from humanity. Deism was a really popular view back then and other founding fathers were Deists as well.
So as a deist, Thomas Jefferson rejected belief in the God of the Bible. He didn’t believe in things like the Trinity or in miracles. He felt that the Gospels had been hijacked by Jesus’ followers to advance their own agendas and ideologies. But in spite of all that, he loved the teachings of Jesus. He adopted His teachings as a moral code to guide his life. He said that Jesus taught "the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man."
And that leads us to the Jefferson Bible. Using a razor and glue, Thomas Jefferson meticulously cut up four copies of the Gospels in English, French, Greek, and Latin. He kept only certain passages, the ones he felt were authentic sayings of Jesus and without the miracles. Jefferson’s version ends with Jesus’ burial on Good Friday. There is no resurrection and no Easter Sunday. He felt all of that was a myth. Jefferson called this version “The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth. As a history lover, it’s such an interesting story and it’s fascinating that he took all the time and effort to make that book.
So at the Smithsonian I got to see the original from 1820, encased in glass. And I was also able to buy a Smithsonian Edition copy that was created from high resolution photographs of the original.
But I think what’s most interesting about that story is the fact that…like the Greeks in our text….he really wanted to see Jesus. But what kind of Jesus? Was it the real Jesus? Or was it a Jesus entirely of his own making?
And when we fast forward to today, all of that brings us to an interesting question. How do Americans see Jesus Christ today? I think it’s safe to say that almost everybody has an opinion about Jesus. And as I was preparing for this sermon, I got curious about where people stand.
So, I did what you always do when you get curious about something….I typed the question into Google. The results were interesting. The vast majority of Americans believe that Jesus was a real historical figure…approximately 92%. But the next Barna survey result was really interesting. 83% of Americans still describe themselves as “Christians”…..but only 56% of that number believes that Jesus is actually divine and that He literally rose from the dead. 26% felt that Jesus was only a great moral teacher, much like the Buddha or the Prophet Mohammed. Another 18% said they just weren’t sure about His divinity. So in sum….at least 92% of Americans still want to see Jesus. But is it the real Jesus? Or is it a Jesus of our own making?
In my essay this morning, I’d simply like to explore this request…”we wish to see Jesus.” So it’s my hope that after today, each of us, dear readers, will be able to see the glory of Jesus Christ more clearly. And to do that, we have to lift our eyes, our hearts, and our minds to the Cross. May the God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit open our minds to the understanding of His word and open our hearts so that we may feel His love coursing through us.
To begin, our Gospel lesson is set in the context of the Passover festival. As I said recently, Passover was one of the holiest feast days of the Jewish faith. Thousands of faithful pilgrims would have flocked to the Temple from all over the Mediterranean to celebrate and make their offerings to God.
But not everybody who came….were Jews. John says, “Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, Sir we wish to see Jesus.” Now the question is why. Why would these Gentiles come all the way from Greece to see Jesus?
Well, for one thing…there was no Instagram. It’s hard to believe, but in those days you couldn’t just hold up a phone…take a picture or a video….and then send it to all your friends in a few seconds. If you wanted to see somebody…you actually had to get up out of the house and do it. Imagine that? And we complain about our connection speeds….first world problems!
For another….I suspect news of Jesus…had already travelled that far….with no help from social media. See, I think they’d probably gotten wind of some of the things He was teaching. Jesus was saying and doing some pretty radical things. He taught with authority. He broke all the rules of social convention. He ate with tax collectors and sinners. He had real compassion for the poor. He put down the religious leaders for their false piety. Then He told little children that they would be the greatest in God’s Kingdom.
And then there were the miracles. Turning water in to wine. Calming storms and walking on water. Healing sick people and casting out demons. Maybe most importantly….Jesus had just raised Lazarus from the dead….and that’s a pretty big deal. So no doubt all of this stuff was traveling far and wide. They were probably hearing all these wild stories…all the way in Greece….and these people were like….”is this for real?” They wanted to see Jesus…because they were curious.
In other words, these Greeks were no different than…say….Thomas Jefferson…or Americans today. Curiosity is the great motivating force of research and discovery. And like Thomas Jefferson and so many of us today…I’m sure they had their own preconceived notions about who Jesus was. I’m sure they’d taken a mental razor and cut out the things they didn’t like or believe and glued in the things they did like and believe.
I imagine they probably had their own Jefferson Bibles by the time they reached Jesus and the Disciples. Now after they made their request to Philip, he did what a lot of us church leaders do when outsiders come to our doorsteps seeking God….he formed a committee. He went and told Andrew. They probably debated about it for an hour. Then maybe they took a vote. Annnnnnddd then they told Jesus.
Their minds had to have been racing. They might’ve thought these would be the first Gentile followers of Christ. Or maybe they were apprehensive. Aren’t you here for just us Jews? I’m sure those two disciples had their razors and their glue just as the Greeks did. But on that day…none of them saw a Jesus of their own making.
They saw the real deal. Now we don’t know this for sure, but I imagine Jesus turned and said these things to the entire crowd…Jews and Gentiles alike. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”
This is the real Jesus. We can say we want to see Jesus, but is it the real Jesus or is it the Jesus we want to see? We can spend endless hours with our razors and our glue. We can glue in a safe Jesus, a Jesus we can control.
We can glue in a Jesus who says some nice things, but we aren’t sure if He’s really divine. Or we can glue in Jesus who’s a divine butler who exists solely to grant our wishes and doesn’t ask for anything in return. We can do a lot of work with our razors and our glue.
But when we encounter the real Jesus, the glass cases of our own Gospels shatter. The pages crumble…they fall apart and wither in to dust. You see, that’s one of the key purposes of John’s Gospel.
He wants us to see Jesus as He actually is….beyond our limited perception of reality…beyond our physical and our mental understanding….beyond our razors and our glue. He wants us to see the great spiritual reality of Jesus Christ….and to respond by believing and trusting in Him as the one sent by God. The thing is, though, seeing Christ in His real glory isn’t all that easy to do because it flies in the face of just about everything we do believe in. Let me explain.
This concept of life from death would’ve made very little sense to the original audience of this Gospel. It’s widely accepted that this Gospel and all the writings attributed to John the Beloved Disciple are the products of a Johannine community of churches in Asia Minor. They were dedicated to preserving the teachings of John, but like most of the other early Christian communities, they were persecuted heavily…by both Romans and Jews.
And as they were being persecuted and martyred…they had to wonder….how can death possibly bring life? Here they were living in another place and time...and they wondered...where is this supposed glory of Christ? These questions are similar for us today, too. As a culture we try to avoid thinking about death. We cling desperately to the good things we have because we want life and still waters. And yet, our lives our filled with little deaths.
Sometimes our circumstances shift and the old securities go and the only roads before us…go right through the valleys. So we wonder. How can the fallen wheat of our lives really bear fruit?
In fact, I originally wrote this essay during the Christian season of Lent…I think this is the heart of what Lent really means. Our symbolic gestures of giving things up, our extra time spent in prayer…all of those things are important, yes. But the reality of Lent is that Lent comes to each of us in its own due time. At its heart, Lent is “Media vita in morte sumus ”…”In the midst of life we are in death.” “In the midst of life we are in death.”
No one’s immune from suffering, loss, the fear of death, or death itself. In other words…Lent isn’t always about choosing our losses…no….it’s the season for acknowledging them…for coming to grips with them. It’s the awareness that even as we’re living and drawing breath….we’re also dying. Heavy stuff.
And this is why our razors and our glue are useless. If we try to create a Jesus of our own making, then we miss this spiritual reality. We miss the full expression of what God is offering to us through Christ.
We miss seeing Christ in His real glory, and so we miss our opportunity to be lifted up…even in the midst of our own deaths, big or small.
So what is the real glory of Christ? The glory of Christ is the Cross and the fact that life will be offered to all people through death. Now that just might be the most theologically complex sentence I’ve ever said…so naturally, we’re going to have to unpack it. I think it’s safe to say the meaning of the Cross is the most difficult thing to understand and explain in all of Christianity. I bet most of us get a headache whenever we even try to think about it.
And it’s been debated from the earliest days of the church right up to our time. There’s entire classes in seminary devoted to making sense of it. Some have said that the Cross was a ransom…a payment that bought the world freedom from sin and death. Some have said that the Cross was substitutionary…that Christ took on victimhood and died in our place to atone for our sins and guilt.
Some have said the Cross is our “moral exemplar”….that through His life and death on the Cross, Christ shows us how to live. Now I think there’s validity to all these theories. I think all of them might reflect part of the truth of this great Mystery.
But what’s interesting for our message today…is that all these “classical theories” of Atonement are completely absent from John’s Gospel. John focuses on one thing. He’s focused completely on the restoration of the relationship between God and humanity.
When Jesus turns to Philip and Andrew and the Greeks He’s saying “If You want to see me as I am, if you want to see me in glory….then you have to see this…you have to see the Cross.” Why? It’s the sign of His true glory because it reveals God’s everlasting, self-emptying, self-surrendering love for all of humanity. He becomes what we are and He endures what we endure. The doubts, the fears, the little deaths, the weaknesses of the ‘Father, save me from this hour’ moments…He takes those things all onto Himself because…He loves us that much. So in the end, the Cross isn’t ultimately about paying ransoms or substitutions and the need for someone to be punished because of sin.
Through His death on the Cross, Jesus Christ is creating a new reality. It’s a new reality that says you are reconciled to God. You are loved and accepted by God. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” Indeed, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” Out of His death He brings us new life.
So if we want to see Christ in glory, then we have to look at Him as He’s being raised up on the Cross….because the Cross is our signpost that points to the limitless bounds of His love and the unfathomable depths He will go to…just to be in relationship with us.
In the words of the great Saint Catherine of Siena: “As a child who sucks the milk from his mother’s breast, likewise we, in love with God, draw love from Jesus crucified, always following His footsteps and walking with Him on the path of humiliation, pain and insults. We do not seek joy elsewhere than in Jesus and we avoid any glory which is not that of the Cross. Embrace Jesus crucified, loving and beloved, and in him you will find true life because He is God made man. Let your heart and your soul burn with the fire of love drawn from Jesus on the Cross!” My sisters and brothers…this…this is how life comes from death.
This is how the dying wheat that falls to the ground bears fruit. All we have to do is put away our razors and our glue and see the glory of Jesus Christ. And when we look on Him who was raised up for us, we should also be raised up. Maybe you’re cast down today. Maybe you’re grieving over the death of a loved one. Maybe you’re having financial troubles.
Maybe your marriage is strained or you’re fighting with members of your family. It’s in these moments...as the wheat is falling where we feel the most vulnerable and the most alone. But if we let go….if we just let the wheat fall….we’ll see that we’re not alone.
We’ll see that we’re not just God’s second-class citizens clinging to words in a 2,000 year old book…no….we’ll see that He’s here….that He’s with us….and that He’s lifting us...and all people up and drawing us to Himself....in the power of His reconciling love that flows from the Cross.
Today I’m going to leave you with the words of a poem written by an Eastern Orthodox Monk by the name of Fr. Seraphim Rose, a poem that beautifully sums up the true glory of Christ bringing life from death on the Cross.
And it’s a poem that has brought me comfort and hope as some of my own wheat fell to the ground. My friends, may it be so for you as well:
"Come to Me, says the Way,
The way seems long only because you cannot see the end.
But when you reach the end and look back, the way will seem so very short.
And you will see that you could have never known happiness
Unless you had known this sadness.
You will be thankful.
You will be glad things happened just as they did.
That they are just as they are.
You will be thankful in the harbor, if only you can endure to the end.
To be empty is to be filled. To be tattered is to be renewed.
Follow Me, says the Way, Descend into the Valley,
Enter the city, and then be raised with me in ignominy
Torn and Tattered, Dragged down to the most abased place on earth, Atop the highest tree
On the highest hill outside the city.
Follow me, says the Way
Hollow, empty, selfless
Resting in forsakenness, There abide in Me as I abide in You.
Abide in the highest, You who have been abased in the depths with Me.
Be filled with Me, you who have been emptied with Me,
Be renewed, you who have been tattered with Me.
Taste incorruption, You who have lain in the grave with Me.” (Taken from Christ the Eternal Tao by Hieromonk Damascene)
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LMAO, Yes, Mom enjoyed Mass, thanks for asking. You know who you are.
Like my "reward" of being allowed to remember a small amount of my previous life, and actually walk a street and see some of my kin from that lifetime, before walking on, I think some real memories are allowed, even planned for, when we can process both sides of the issue. This can also be a problem if we deal with it wrongly.
I was Native American a few lives ago. I know the group, and where we were going and why when I saw my young wife cut down like an animal by the troops before I could do anything to save her and felt how my whole desire to live another hour left me in that horrified moment. They killed me, too, of course, but in reality it was suicide. I could not live after seeing her cut down that way. Later, my Chief would say "I will fight no more, forever" and I understood it in that moment as she fell dead and I died inside.
The sheer arrogance and barbarism of these white people coming from other lands and just thinking to make off with the land, the life, the world of another people and treat them like savages not worth living just as much is beyond me to ever comprehend. My young wife was cut down like a coyote and butchered twice more in the throat by a cur dog who did not deserve to even breathe the same air she did. But, the winners write the history so we have "Manifest Destiny" and "Little House on The Prairie" and "Sea to shining sea", today. Needless to say there was no way and no chance the young warrior who died back then was ever going to comprehend and make a fair judgment about his life.
However, after living as a white man for more than a couple decades, I have a little more perspective. It has taken me a few years to work through the deep feelings and rages. There is no one to talk this sort of thing over with. Back when I was here before on another account, I had a Native American friend who I told the story to who understood and was my one luxury at the time over it. He did help me to find some peace in it all and a sense of not being isolated away from "my" people, no matter how it looks. He is gone now, and so is the account I once was on UM. One of those meetings for a mutual purpose, perhaps.
Not a lot has changed though the passions and madness is gone over her death. It was wrong, all of it was wrong, and there is not any excuse for how the Natives were treated in their own lands by the invasions of aliens they faced. The same happened in Australia, and more recently is happening to Europe. Invaders do not care, and will not see anyone there before them as more valuable nor as anything other than "in the way" if they want more than they get.
This memory and my need to process it is personal and offered as an example of why a memory might come through for a person. It has brought me peace, some understanding, but the final conclusion that I was not wrong then to see what they did as evil and wrong, and I still see it that way. Deeply, it burns.
But, it leaves me now with a new challenge. Now that I know these things and have this hidden insight into an issue like this, what am I to DO with it now?
This body lacks a single drop of NA blood in it. I have no tribal connections and if I tried to approach my original people they'd roll their eyes about the loony white wanna be injun. I cannot help or be helped there. I am not some famous spokesperson who might activist for a cause for a tribe. After Katrina I did directly raise and transport into Golden Meadows Louisiana loads of supplies and heaters for the tribe there who was demolished by the storm. I heard about the need at the same pow wow I saw the Eagle flying in to respond and dance with the dancers there. I told the man who spoke about the need I would go and he nodded and looked bored and away and I recognized the usual "Yeah, ok, want a medal?" reaction, but, he did give me an email for the Council down there.
I went, the non-profit I was on the Board for paid for it, thousands of dollars was raised by Pagan Emergency Services Personnel across the country in days, and it doesn't matter. Suffering was eased. That matters. This is all I know to do, learn my insight, respond when I hear and can, always be on guard against devaluation of a race, arrogance, hatred, bullying, abusiveness. I may be white this life, but, I don't have to fit stereotypes and I can take pride in our better times and regret and not excuse our worse times and know in my heart the humble truth that you just never know who you once were, or what you once suffered or what mercy you found from a person like you are today. I pray to God no one has a past life memory of me doing something as hateful as what I saw happen to my wife back then on our run to Canada, but probably, someone does, and for that I am sorry.
If more people understood this as they spew racist jokes or epithets and relish hatred and nurse a sense of grievance that they will be due to ride the rail on the other side of the hatred as well and experience the fruits of all that fostered hate, if they haven't already. I hope the day comes when we can get over all this self inflicted pain and get on with just living and working on the problems together.
The topic is reincarnation, however, but, I have shared all this to support my conclusion here about the topic. Most people I know who have memories are processing them and gaining the insights and working to do well with them, correct, resolve past issues within ourselves and move forward with this life. Not one of them ever was Cleopatra that they know of, nor Marc Anthony either. They do not post on forums or spread their banal little tales around about being stone cutters or street thieves back then because they have other things to do than defend against accusations they cannot prove that Nebet ever lived, or if there is some mention of this Nebet that it is the same Nebet so they are just lying and making up things. Perhaps, it is sometimes accused, because they need to feel special.
Maybe the point is that we are NOT special, nor are you, and behind you is a great deal of experience you only know a fraction of that is playing out on many levels. To sometimes feel sad I lack the sense of tribal inclusion and belonging which is absent in my white world, and there being a closed door to feeling that again in this life is "special"? It was, once. Not today and not here and now. I am on track and doing what I came here to do, and when it comes to reincarnation, this is some of the ground I have covered in this lifetime and remembered. The chef was the most important fellow I recall being within his tiny world, chefs are like that. They are the gods of the kitchen. The rest were ordinary in their lifetimes.
The beauty of it is that it doesn't matter if you believe in reincarnation, or not. Some of us seek a meaning in being here, and for a few there are these memories which harken back to times and lives we never knew in this one. Reincarnation provides one avenue for explaining and understanding and moving on from it a bit better off for the insight.
Wishing you well!
I write to serve.
Mention must be made of an archaic cultural site discovered in the Valley of Mexico in the 1920s, which has come to be called Niven’s Buried City. William Niven started his investigations in that same valley in the early nineteen hundreds (1910), and in the course of his research, he encountered enigmatic stone artifacts and tablets, which had no discernible connection with any other Mexican cultural sequence. This was curious! However, it was not until the period of 1921-23 when he hit archaeological "pay dirt" at Santiago Ahuizoctla, a hamlet contiguous to Amantla. At that time, he discovered the "infamous" tablets and the evidence of an archaic culture of a high order. For a short time, his discoveries set the archaeological world afire with rampant enthusiasm. Then, most sadly, his discoveries were summarily discredited by the mainstream academic culture and its media. He was made to look a fool, while his artifacts were carried off and scattered far and wide. William Niven died a broken man in Austin, Texas in the 1930s. It is sad to contemplate that he died without ever having his work properly evaluated by the scientific prowess of today’s world. We know not where to find his works though there is rumor that some are hidden away at a distinguished eastern university. Such is an example that could face us with this project.
Teotihuacan, the great city near to Niven’s excavations in the Valley of Mexico, has always caught my imagination, even as a boy. It looks like a great space port with pyramid-like structures lined up on a 4 kilometer rampway for travelers departing and arriving for destinations now long forgotten. At an early age, I can recall thinking upon great flying machines, perhaps saucers, sitting on top of all those little launch pads lining the road of the dead (dead-our idea, not theirs). Too many space movies; one would think that the MIR space station would have ended such dreams!
It has been estimated that Teotihuacan supported a population of 200,000 persons at one point in its florescence. Many of middle American’s old cities seem to have this otherworldly look of high sophistication that was either emulated by other cities at a later date, or were part of an older civilization that was to some degree very advanced. Teotihuacan represents more than that, it has the engineering built into its structure to suggest more than what is told to us by today’s archaeologists. Were the cities of Mexico old memories of a time far away in the minds of their well educated priests? Or, could they have been the whispers of a very ancient Enmayi tradition that bled through to show itself 4 million years later? To do this, the Enmayi had to have a seat of civilization somewhere on Earth that lasted as the stalwart to carry these traditions forward. Where is such a site?
Teotihuacan presents another feature that is also arcane to the extreme. Peter Tompkins, Graham Hancock and other historical writers have pointed out, time after time, that enormous, thick sheets of mica were found by Leopoldo Batres on the fifth level of the Sun Pyramid in 1906. Later, at 350 meters down from the Sun Pyramid, reported by the Viking Foundation, another mica slab was found of considerable size: some 27.4 meters square (90 feet square). To the astonishment of all archaeologists, it was identified as a type of mica that is found in Brazil, and nowhere else. This begs the question of why was this particular type of mica removed and transported some 3218.6 kilometers (2000 miles) to be incorporated into the building site at Teotihuacan? How could something this large be transported in a stone age period of history? It is also to be noted that similar finds of Brazilian mica were discovered in certain Olmec sites. This is the "silver bullet" of the archaeological world which proclaims that the technology of the ancients is far removed from what we consider it to have been. Mica is utilized as insulation to atomic expressions.
In my estimation, the importance of the discovery of mica, which had been transported thousands of kilometers from its place of origin to its final resting place, is equivalent in historical importance to Dr. Oppenheimer’s comment upon the detonation of the first atomic explosion in the deserts of New Mexico. At the time of the explosion, he was heard to remark that "it was the second [ time ] for humanity to experience such." He was, of course, referring to the old Sanskrit tradition that the first atomic device was detonated in the area of the ancient Indus Valley civilizations some 8,000 years ago. The very old ruins of Mohenjo-Daro certainly reflect that this is indeed what occurred, with thousands of its fallen resident’s bones recently found radioactively "hot" in the bottom of the old streets of the city.
In the old Mahabharata, we find that there were references to flying machines and a frightening white flash of an ultimate weapon that destroyed cities, and caused the survivors to rush to the rivers to cleanse themselves of the unseen killer. The evidence of classic radiation sickness, such as hair and nails falling form the body before death, are everywhere in the ancient writings. With all this strong corroboration of evidence from our planetary past, we should not decline the information offered by all this data that our celestial messenger has poured forth in the last few weeks.
From my vicarious youth, I have wondered about Mexico. Were those old tribes a part of this powerful technological base that peeks to us between the lines of mythological history? The gods seem to appear out of space and time, as did the Sons of Annu, the Sumerian god of gods. One wonders if Claronu’s nickname for Anjona — Annoo-a was the same leader of the Niberu, as translated by Zecharia Sitchin in his body of highly informative and passionately charged books about the Earth Chronicles. Annu was the Anunnaki god who brought genetic engineering to Earth. We have data that supports some of these researchers, so why do we not announce the truth to humanity?
Today, expeditions into the volcanic wastes of Mexico are showing that cultures were present earlier than the Olmecs as Niven believed. Were these first people the sons of the Enmayi who had risen in technology over and over again through the cyclic volatility of this unstable planet of garden-like beauty? Cast back into the barbaric states of human evolution time and time again, they continued to climb back out of the agglomeration of defeat to strive once more up the ladder of be-manship. While the poles of the planet wobbled around the globe, they fought to maintain their traditions, each time of destruction, they restarted the flame of the hand that sees – becoming the minds that move. Even the art attributed to the Olmecs seems more modern, with their head-mounted lenses on space helmets that often seem to have support systems attached to their bodies. It is all more relevant now, after having this immense data before us from out of Time.
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When I create I always want to express something, a feeling, a thought, a mystery.
Through the process of creating, my mind starts to fly into another dimension.
A mystery is unfolding in my mind's eye, my mind's wings are fluttering in a happy dance.
I call this piece of art "The Red Room"
A chronic lack of civility in our public discourse has led to an approaching breakdown of social order. When it comes, when the nastiness reaches a critical point, who will be willing to back down and compromise? When hotheads shed blood, who will reach across to make peace? WWII ended 73 years ago. Is our institutional memory so short? Do we so little value what has taken 2 centuries to build? Finally, are we so full of hate that we'd rather lose all than admit an error and compromise? Our electronic media is our access to the wider world. How are we to understand what is happening in our world if we cannot trust what these arbiters of truth tell us? There is yet time for cooler heads to prevail but that time is shrinking.
This year has been one of the most growth-inducing years of my life. It began with a break up after a 3 month relationship I expected to go further than it had. I went through depression of course, not knowing what I did wrong, and desperately trying to fix the relationship any way I could. I had my mind set on suicide once the pain got unbearable. I planned out goodbye letters, and had other information written down so things could be taken cared of when I had gone. Something in my mind told me to pray for help instead - so I did. February came along and I began researching Archangels because of one I heard of shortly after praying. Archangel Michael was the first one I had researched, and the more I looked, the more curious I became and once I knew I could ask them for help, I started calling out to them and praying every night for something to happen. It started the domino effect that paved the road towards my Spiritual awakening in March, then Kundalini awakening in April. I've been visited by many of the Archangels in the last 6 months, and I have a direct cord connecting me to Michael. It's so powerful, when he's with me I can feel heat cascade down my entire back. I have many experiences to voice about, and I plan to do so in this blog. All events are true, and I use to be an atheist, so if people are concerned with me making this stuff up - there is no way I could possibly make things of this significance up!
Until next time, have a good day!
Just over 12 years ago I joined this site. I was in my early 20s and noticed something strange in the sky. I took photos then went online on my old PC and came across this forum to share my experience. It was great and opened up my mind to so much more. Since then I’ve learned to look beyond what we can see. I don’t post very often but I read very often. Personally I don’t have many experiences that are worthy of sharing on here but I do appreciate others stories and experiences.
That leads to me, now. For most of my adult life I’ve suffered with depression and anxiety. It’s getting worse. Realising that 12 years has passed since that day I registered on here is a major eye opener. Then I had a few ideas and dreams of where I wanted to be in the future. I’ve not achieved much of that. I bet most of us would think that in a decade into the future from now, loads of things would have changed! Aliens would be here, ghosts and monsters would be easily detectable but nope, all is as it was. It’s a good thing though because no matter how much technology progresses, those same questions we asked years ago still remain.
Ive began looking for personal answers. Why am I here? What’s my purpose? Is it all just random events or is the simulation theory real? If so then are any of us really in control? Are we the highest power or are we just left alone to think we are? Are we insignificant like that random ant hill in Africa?
Having depression is strangely soothing for me. I can’t get excited and I’m used to feeling alone and disappointed. If we are alone and are just a freak of nature doomed to disappear when the sun explodes then fine, I can deal with the pointlessness of it all. But what if we’re not a freak of nature? What if we’re here for some reason? Test? Experiment etc?
Who gets those feelings of “there’s something more than this”? I do constantly. I’m not religious but I do believe there’s something out there with a degree of control but I have no idea how to find out! I’ll keep searching!
I try to ignore the distractions in life, they seem to be set up for us like TV, sport, video games and so on. They seem to mask or hide something. Why do we need to be entertained when we have the instinct to explore? There are so many unanswered questions but we ignore them and instead go shopping or go drinking or fall asleep watching TV!
The people on here, keep up the good work! Keep searching and asking! Share what you find! Silent observers like myself appreciate it .
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So yesterday, my three cousins and I were laying in bed watching movies. It was around 11:30pm or 12:00pm, and the door in my cousins room started shaking slightly. We were a little creeped out, but just assumed it was the fans in and outside of the room. It continued after a while, so we just opened the door and put some things in front of it. Today, it started again. My aunt claims it has never happened before, because I'm just visiting when it happened. We turned off any fans or air circulating through the house. No windows or doors were open. The door continued to shake, but much harder. When we would open it, no one was outside. Nothing. So we just cracked the door, due to heat, and the door once again shook. While it was open. Later, all of the doors started to shake slightly while closed. Not really sure what's going on here, any thoughts?
You breathe the air of your sweat, light and shallow.. the liquid air around you without breath to give you respite. The sun above does little more than remind you that your flesh can cook in the steam just like that nice batch of veggies you dressed with a cool cucumber dressing last night.
Then you hit the shade while the hot wind does whip up-blowing the debris of seasonal blossoms gone to seed and dust from the streets... and it's a cool blessing. You are happy that the sweat pops up to be blown off.. and take a moment to drink deep of that iced beverage.. swat a sweat fly or two. Too hot for skeeters to be bugging, even their spawn is dying in the water tanks, much to the dismay of the birds that like to eat and drink while perched on the ledges.
The high light of summer is already past us, and has been for a couple weeks. We are now on the hot steel slide into the dark.
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Short post. My Photo. The Arseniev Museum in Vladivostok. Second floor. Hall of Archeology. On the left under the glass are the medieval bronze mirrors. The Jurchen Empire. The Primorye Territory of our Far Eastern region is very rich in these historical relics.
Well, all the search parties have returned. It turns out that the first search party had already come back and just went straight to bed (apparently they emphasized the “Party” part of their title)… Stern notes were posted in the personnel folders of all involved…
This year’s route has been selected and without further ado, here it is:
The race will begin in the Grand Central Square, in the heart of the UM Complex… All racers will be sorted by their teams, in order of talent, winning records (and bribes of course)… Each team will be lined up in one of the many (mostly) straight (and mostly paved) streets that radiate out from the Grand Square (it’s not really square shaped – it’s just named that to confuse people)… When the starting bazooka is fired, the racers will all rush inward onto the (mostly circular-ish) traffic circle (known as a roundabout to some), and will speed around counter-clockwise for three full circuits… At this time the Grand All-High Inquisitor Mod will pull the lever that opens the “Ancient Endless Spiral Stairs of Doom” (which have been mostly covered with the cheapest grade of plywood we could find – so that it forms a 15 mile long 60 degree spiral down ramp…
The “Ancient Endless Spiral Stairs of Doom” were the result of a Public Works Project by a group of Inquisitor Mods a few thousand years ago… The original plans were for this to be a rather short spiral staircase down 15 meters to a lavish train station, which was to be built to begin linking UM’s far flung areas together… However, the designers abbreviated 15 meters to 15 m which the construction crew mistook for 15 miles… After the construction crew had gotten started, it was discovered that no one had invented trains yet, so the Inquisitors scrapped the project but neglected to tell the furiously digging crews… When the bottom was reached it was discovered that they had dug down into a series of ancient lava tubes, Prehistoric mammoth-gopher tunnels and some of the original dungeon levels…
Upon reaching the bottom of the “Ancient Endless Spiral Stairs of Doom” those racers that survive will be directed by rapidly strobing neon lights down the twisting tunnels and chambers, along the Ancient Grand Gallery with its view that overlooks 30 deeper levels (watch out – no safety rails!) and finally along the Ancient Underground Sea (be cautious… there are “things” that live in there and they have tentacles!)…
The racers will then find themselves emerging from the underground at the base of the World famous Icanseemyhousefromhere Mountain and across the lovely and scenic Misty Marsh of Miasmic Wonder… (The Race Committee would like to take this opportunity to give a heartfelt thank you to the many “volunteers” (and their next of kins) who worked so hard (and for so little pay) to layout the plywood over the swampy ground to form the roadway for the racers to use…)
After crossing the Misty Marsh, the racers will travel through the Eastern Artillery Impact Zone (B), where as they speed along they will have the pleasure of witnessing the production testing of the latest model of Rocket Assisted Pogo-sticks for Seniors – which should amuse the racers to no end…
Once across the Impact Zone (which will most definitely be probably not receiving artillery hits at the time of the race – but you never know!) the racers will pull into the courses sole rest stop, where they can stretch their legs, get a cold frosty beverage (on sale from the Renegade Beer Balloon Fleet) and change their pants (as necessary), The Noggin’ Knockers Band will be providing musical entertainment (for a small fee they will move on and play somewhere else) and everyone is encouraged to polka for a bit before getting back on with the race…
The next leg of the race is perhaps the most dangerous… It is across the heart of UM’s “Land of Lost Tax Accountants”… Racers are advised to make all speed through here as the Tax Accountants are likely to ensnare you into a lengthy and hideously boring Tax audit – so beware!
After escaping the clutches of the Tax Accountants, it is directly into the Eastern Squiggle Reserve, where the racers will attempt to evade the rather lonely squiggles who are just looking for someone to pet them and take them home – racers are reminded that Squiggle Anti-Dote, chain-mail gauntlets and anti-itch cream are NOT on sale at the final rest stop – so bring your own!
And the final leg of the race is into the Eastern Oubliette Zone of the Central Complex, where the teeming mobs of fans will be waiting excitedly for the racers to speed past as they pelt them with rotten fruit, water balloons and glitter bombs…
So that’s the route for this year’s race… Study it, form your strategies and remember that June 3rd is the final day for Bribes to be placed (unless of course you bribe the officials to accept later bribes) – and may the best tricyclist (and best briber of course) win! (or at least survive)…