THE POET AND THE PENDULUM (Part One)

Part One

DAVID INTRODUCED US to the pendulum one evening when we were sitting around discussing the universe over a cup of tea. All of us were in a rather fey mood, having just witnessed Death of a Salesman on the final night of its local revival - and none of us having received any invite to the cast party.

“Have you anything metallic - a ring or something - and some thread?” he asked me (since we happened to be in my house and I was the one who presumably knew where such items were to be found).

Perhaps it was the intensity of his manner that made me oblige at once. In less than a minute the required materials were procured (with uncanny ease, I might add, considering the general chaos in which I’m accustomed to living). David held up the device he had improvised and proceeded to demonstrate its application.

It was just a small bronze brooch (of Celtic design) tied to an 8-inch length of thread. David was dangling it over a book on the table. “Is this a book?” he intoned, apparently directing the enquiry at the pendulum. It began to spin in a small but well-defined circle. “Now is this a load of crap?” The pendulum seemed undecided for a moment; then it started swinging gently from side to side as if to say, emphatically, NO.

“That’s a brilliant way to review books,” Mary snickered.

“Seems to work,” muttered David, ignoring Mary’s remark. “It’s spin for YES and swing for NO. And it tends to be quite literal, so you have to be precise in framing your questions.”

We took turns asking the pendulum rather silly questions - but it didn’t seem at all perturbed and went about its task of YESsing and NOing quite cheerfully.

Poey decided to tempt fate: “Will I win the next lottery?”

The pendulum responded by twitching vaguely. David suggested that we avoid asking it ‘will’ questions. “It’s not a fortune telling tool,” he said. “Think of it as a means of tapping into your own unconscious powers. You can, however, ask ‘should’ questions like ‘Should I leave my present job?’”

“Should I get married to B______?” Poey ventured. The answer was NO. “I thought so, too!” he laughed. “Well, should I get married at all?”

This time it was a YES. “Do I already know the lucky lady?” NO.

“Looks like you’re both quite safe,” David grinned at Mary and Suganthi.

On impulse I decided to perform an experiment with the pendulum. I waited for it to steady itself and then asked: “Have David and I had any previous incarnational links?”

David was all attention (and so were Mary, Poey, and Suganthi). The pendulum defined a tentative circle. Then, as though encouraged by the undiluted interest of five minds, it eased into a more lively spin.

“Aha!” I murmured, delighted with the positive response. “When?”

The others laughed.

“All right, all right... yes or no... let me think... okay, we’ll try this. Now, did David and I have an incarnational link in ancient Egypt?”

YES.

An inspired guess. I pressed on: “Was it during the time of Akhnaton?”

All of a sudden it seemed as if there was an invisible power lifting up the pendulum as it spun round and round: YES! YES! YES! An exhilarating sensation of weightlessness - the little bronze brooch felt like a feather. I had a magnificent insight into the way magnetism and gravity operate - how the stars and planets suspend each other in space.

David was visibly excited (“Wow!” was the best he could manage). The affirmation gave me the impetus to push the probe further. I felt my mind shift gears - no, step up its voltage is an apter way to describe the experience.

“Were we blood relatives?”

NO.

“Was David in the priesthood?”

YES.

“Was he, by any chance, an Amen priest?”

YES.

“Were we enemies?”

NO.

“Was he secretly an ally?”

YES.

I glanced up at David: “Good. I knew you couldn’t possibly have been that wicked!”

Mary, overcome by curiosity, burst out: “What are you on about? What the hell’s an Amen priest?”

“I’m glad you asked,” I smiled, automatically switching on my lecturer voice: “Well, by the time Thutmose IV became Pharaoh during the 18th Dynasty, the Amen priesthood had gone the way of all priesthoods. They were getting fat on the fears and superstitions of the masses who were dependent on the priests for intercession with the gods. And there were so many terrible gods to appease. Worship became more and more a matter of form and ritual. When Akhnaton - the grandson of Thutmose IV - came to power he discarded his official name, Amenhotep IV, and built a new capital called Akhetaton - approximately where Tell el-Amarna stands today. Anyway...”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were also an Egyptologist,” Poey butted in.

“Would you like to be embalmed, young man?” I handed him the economy-size jar of Tiger Balm Mary had left on the table. “Here, eat this!”

Mary pleaded for me to continue with the story.

“Okay. I’ll try and keep to the bare essentials. Well, Akhnaton married Nefertiti - yes, the famous beauty - and they had seven daughters, the last of whom died in her infancy. The whole family used to go skinnydipping together and everything would have been wonderful if only Akhnaton hadn’t been such a radical visionary. He didn’t think much of warfare, for instance. And he enjoyed riding through the city and stopping for an occasional chat with mere mortals. A few macho types dismissed him as a sissy - but so many people were getting to like his style that the Amen accountants were beginning to feel the pinch. The army chiefs and the Amen high priests tried flattery, bribery, and threats - but Akhnaton continued his efforts to hasten the arrival of a Golden Dawn. Eventually he was poisoned by an Amen priest at the instigation of the ambitious General Horemheb - who had never taken very kindly to the drastic cuts in his defence budget and who probably had the hots for Nefertiti. The ten-year-old Tutankhaton was crowned King and his name changed to Tutankhamen. He only lasted nine years before he, too, was poisoned by Horemheb’s henchmen. Within four years Horemheb had seized the throne of Egypt. Needless to say, his reign was extremely long and bloody.”

“Hmmm,” said David profoundly.

Poey the pragmatic wasn’t impressed: “The only thing I know about Egypt is King Tut - I saw his picture hanging in front of the National Museum last week. But you said Akhnaton had seven daughters, so how did Tut become a Pharaoh?”

“He was Akhnaton’s half-brother,” I said, picking up the pendulum again. “Was Poey around during Akhnaton’s era?”

YES.

“Was he a priest?”

NO.

“Er... was he a soldier?”

YES.

“Aha, we’re getting somewhere! Was he one of Horemheb’s officers?”

YES.

“Was he involved in the murder of Akhnaton?”

The pendulum quivered. I rephrased the question: “Was he among the soldiers who, disguised as robbers, tortured and killed Akhnaton’s eldest daughter and her husband?”

YES.

I observed that Poey had grown very interested in our pendulum investigation. Each affirmation seemed to trigger off some misty remembrance a hazy notion that there may, indeed, be more to our mysterious being than meets the everyday eye. Whatever the case, Poey did not protest the pendulum’s verdict; nor did he flinch at the idea of ever having done Horemheb’s dirty work in the name of professional duty. But I wanted to round it off on a more expiatory note:

“Maybe you were so disturbed by your own actions, you later returned to the path of light,” I offered, turning to the pendulum. “Did the entity now known as Poey suffer any remorse for his part in the disruption of the Great Work?”

YES.

Mary snatched the pendulum from me with a theatrical flourish: “Give me that, I’m going to ask whether you were formerly with the Spanish Inquisition!”

I grinned evilly just to humor her: “Actually, I was on the wrong side and got badly roasted... 14th Century France... I was a young noblewoman, a Cathar. The experience was hardly cathartic, ha ha.”

“Now that’s the pits,” Mary shook her head in mock disgust.

David exploded into uncontrollable chortles: “The pits... ho ho ho! The pits... hee hee! The pits and the pendulums... har har har! Or should it be pendula? Heh heh!”

I managed to keep a straight face: “Oh, that’s by Edgar Allan Poey, isn’t it?” That set David and Mary off again. Poey wasn’t particularly amused. Suganthi managed a pained smile.

She had been her usual quiet self so far but now she seemed galvanized into a wakefulness of sorts: “Why this sudden interest in Egypt and the Pharaohs? Where does it all lead?”

“To Rome, to Rome!” I replied, unforgivably.

Mary came to her rescue: “Well, maybe everyone in this room was alive in Egypt at the time of Akhnaton. Maybe that’s why we’re here tonight, asking the pendulum all these questions!”

“Mary,” I said. “Why don’t you let Suganthi have the pendulum so she can conduct a little research into her own mysterious past?”

Suganthi accepted the pendulum: “How do I start?”

Mary, ever helpful, suggested: “Was Suganthi incarnate in Akhnaton’s Egypt?’

The pendulum trembled momentarily.on its thread before going into a slow spin.

“YES!” shouted Mary and Poey.

Suganthi looked bewildered: “What now?” For someone who’s read nearly all of Agatha Christie’s output she was behaving in a most unsleuthlike manner.

“Here, s’il vous plait,” I said. “Zees ees a zhob for Hercule Poirot! Now zen... was the entity male in that particular incarnation?”

NO.

“May we assume female then?”

YES.

“Ah... was she related to Akhnaton?”

NO.

“Perhaps one of his consorts?”

NO.

“No? Hmmm... was she a virgin from the Temple of Isis?”

YES.

“Commendable! And was she in any way associated with Nefertiti?”

YES.

“Another clue! Was she a member of the Queen’s family?”

NO.

“I see... well, was she part of the Queen’s household?”

YES.

“Ah, so... the Queen’s personal cosmetician, perhaps?”

YES.

That won me a small round of applause. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I declared. “As you can see, the entity is still capable of working magic with eye make-up.”

Suganthi returned the pendulum to the table, thrilled but uncertain what to make of the information. David and I each lit a cigarette and Poey was on the verge of following suit - but he was struck by a bold idea. Reaching for the pendulum, he steadied it and addressed it sternly:

“Is reincarnation possible?”

YES.

Mary produced a nervous giggle and quipped: “Can the pendulum lie?”

NO.

We all had a good chuckle over that one and Mary strode off to fix more tea. The instant she returned from the kitchen she picked up the pendulum:

“My turn to find out where I fit in. I’m going for the big one... was I Nefertiti?”

NO.

“Drat. Well... was I there at all?”

YES ... NO ... YES...

“Hey, what does that mean - MAYBE?” She tried again and again the answer was ambiguous. David took over the pendulum and asked if Mary was incarnate during Akhnaton’s reign.

YES ... NO...YES...

“Velly intellesting,” I said, assuming the mask of Charlie Chan. “Appears to be some sort of Misterlee sullounding your work in that rifetime. Arrow me to meditate a moment... pendurum, prease!”

I dangled the orb thoughtfully before attempting a fresh approach to the problem: “During that period, was Mary in human form?”

“I beg your pardon!” Mary’s indignation was only half-feigned.

“Wait... the pendulum is behaving in a very odd way. Could it be saying you were partly human?”

“Maybe she was that dog-faced god,” David exclaimed. “What’s his name? Anubis!” Mary snarled and bit him on the leg. Or at least she should have. She was content to tweak his nose.

“Another strange notion is taking shape in my mind,” I said slowly, signalling for David and Mary to pay close attention. With a penetrating look for dramatic effect, I asked the pendulum: “Is Mary an earth entity?”

NO.

“Is she really an astral entity?”

YES.

“I knew it!” Mary squealed. “Always knew I had star quality.”

I persisted: “Was Mary fulfilling a dual function in that lifetime?”

YES.

The pendulum was taking off on a crazy orbit, defying gravity and our incredulous eyes. Just then the kettle started whistling. Suganthi kindly offered to brew the tea. I was acutely conscious of the incongruities of physical existence. Were we perhaps taking a party trick too far? People have generally used the pendulum to divine the number and gender of their unborn children... but this was like trying to explore fathomless undersea canyons with a pen-light. Nonetheless, we were getting some elucidating results.

“Well?” Mary was all keyed up and eager to know more.

“Well,” I sighed. “Shall we proceed?”

For as long as I could remember I’d been squirrelling away exotic titbits of trivia about the rise and fall of Aton in Egypt. I had genealogies locating Akhnaton’s place in the Pharaonic succession; I even knew his mother-in-law’s name. (It was Tyi and she’s still around, in fact she now lives just across the road from me). So it wasn’t too difficult to hazard an educated guess that Mary could have been Maya - treasurer and prime minister to five Pharaohs (beginning with Akhnaton’s father Amenhotep III - and ending with Horemheb the Usurper)! At the same time she had led an astral existence (Level Four in the Universal Pyramid of Being) as Akhnaton’s ka or etheric double. Don’t ask me how this actually works - I’m mystified by differential calculus. I only know that the pendulum indicated YES on both counts.

“I hope you’re not taking this stuff to heart,” David said very quietly when I had cracked Mary’s case. I looked deep into his eyes and saw his ancient fear. Here was one too thoughtful to follow in good faith but not yet brave enough to find his own path: a long-journeying pilgrim of truth, just the same. Or perhaps a keeper of hermetic keys...

“Think of it this way, David,” I said evenly. “The Golden Dawn is the Myth of the Millennium. Each of us plays a complex variety of parts in this colossal drama. While I don’t advise anyone to cling on to a specific role once a particular play is over, I also feel we must keep remembering anew the experience we’ve gained from each performance. You can call it psychotherapy if you like.”

“Fine. But don’t you think there’s a danger in identifying yourself too closely with these reincarnational roles. I mean, in the final analysis, there’s no way to determine the accuracy of these investigations - the pendulum merely picks up the brainwaves of the user. It’s like a simple polygraph. It measures the degree of your inner convictions, that’s all.”

“Agreed. I happen to trust my inner convictions, David. No amount of statistical evidence or the lack of it can alter the process of intuitive knowing. It’s a temporary suspension of disbelief. You open up and accept whatever images flow into your awareness. Hard-nosed detectives follow their hunches - we all do it without thinking about it. Of course, we can’t carry these insights over into consensus reality: you may have been my father once but you can’t come back into the present and boss me around. If you’re a highly evolved entity you will surely find it easy to feel ‘paternal’ and loving towards me. Essence doesn’t die, David.”

“Okay... I see your point. Anyway, what place do you occupy in your Egyptian scenario? We haven’t checked out your part in this affair, have we?”

I handed David the pendulum: “Why don’t you conduct the probe, David?”

“Right, I’ll hold the pendulum - you ask the questions.”

“Was I incarnate in Egypt during the period in question?”

YES.

“Was I the Pharaoh Akhnaton?”

YES.

“I’d like to ask a few more questions, David.”

“Go right ahead.” From his expression, David was taking all of this more seriously than I was. He was always a sucker for Hierophants and Hierarchies.

I paused for effect; it works every time:

“Is the Horemheb entity incarnate at present?”

YES.

“Does he operate in Malaysia at the moment?”

YES.

“Does he have any memory of having been Horemheb?”

NO.

I just had to laugh: “That’s precisely the problem with these Dead Zoners! They keep forgetting the mess they made the last time around, so they wind up doing the same dumb things over and over again. What was that famous quote from George Santayana? ‘Those who don’t remember the past are condemned to relive it.’ Well, just for your information: Horemheb’s criminal record is fairly spectacular. He was also Jeroboam, the biblical king who gave the Jews golden calf worship; and he did his thing as Diocletian, a pretty mean dude even as Roman emperors go. But he really went to town as Hernando Cortes the Spanish conquistador who loved melting down Aztec gold and burning up forests. I believe he was last spotted in the guise of Howard Carter, the ruthless archeologist who broke into poor Tutankhaton’s tomb – he’d forgotten about the ‘curse,’ you see. Anyway, we’re not here to pick any fights...”

“Shucks,” quoth Mary. She looked genuinely disappointed. “No showdown?”

I shook my head.

“Then how come we’re all gathered in these parts?”

“I don’t know yet. However, I’m hoping Horemheb and his Heavies will eventually wise up to the fact that we can’t be killed. No matter what people say, there is such a thing as Free Will, you realize. We’re the Friendly Ones - we almost never resort to brute force, unless it’s an absolute necessity.”

Poey shrugged and made ready to leave: “I don’t know what kind of weird books you’ve been reading - but what I’d like to know is how come you can simply yabber on as if it’s the gospel truth?”

“Well, Poey, my genetic memory tells me it has the ring of truth.”

David chuckled: “Yeh, the Ring of Truth!” Earlier he'd mentioned that he uses his wedding ring as a pendulum. “From now on that’s what I’m going to call my pendulum.”

“Right, folks!” Poey fished his car keys from his pocket and headed for the door: “I’ve enjoyed the session but I still think life isn’t fair. I mean - why do I always end up with the supporting roles? The only school play I’ve ever been in, I played a guard. In Egypt, I was a guard...”

“You mean a blackguard!” David contributed.

“Oh, shut up! Look, why couldn’t I have been Nefertiti’s uncle or at least her second cousin thrice removed?”

“Well, how do you know you weren’t?” I countered. “If you ever run into Nefertiti, talk to her - see if that jogs your memory.”

“Huh? Is she around?”

“Sure. She lives in Brickfields.”

Poey’s grin was somewhat amphibious: “You have her phone number?”

“As a matter of fact, I do - but she’s a bit of a recluse. If she thought I was in the habit of handing her number over to sex-starved ex-soldiers, she won’t speak to me for another seven years.”

Poey offered us a mock salute and turned to go. But he just had to put in an exit line: “You know I was in a Malay feature film recently? Fifty bucks and my face on the silver screen for four-and-a-half seconds. Story of my life!”

[PART TWO]

[First posted 9 November 2011. Reposted 20 February 2020]

DEBUNKING DE LIGHT (repost)

I've been a debunker myself, especially around the age of 15 or 16 when I took great pleasure in debunking religion (particularly churchianity) and later civilization itself. But I soon realized the urge to debunk was merely part of growing up.

I've seen a lot of debunking in my time. In fact, it seems that every time someone writes a book or announces a new paradigm or introduces a sharp new terminology into the system, it doesn't take long before a detractor or two will arrive on the scene and proceed to debunk my latest pet belief. Indeed, everytime I get swept up on the crest of a peak experience and remember my own divinity - I soon get debunked by those who want me to retain a recognizable form and function within a "safe" frequency range.

Tuesday Lobsang Rampa (1910-1981)

Debunking happened with Tuesday Lobsang Rampa. He declared that he was a walk-in; his Englishman's body was inhabited and operated by a reincarnated Tibetan lama. I recall there was a vicious campaign mounted against Rampa, and it promoted the idea that he was just an imaginative writer of fiction. But the damage had been done: millions of impressionable teenagers and middle-aged housewives had been informed about astral traveling and third eyes. There was no holding back the floodtide of mystical whimsy.

After that it was Erich von Däniken and his "Chariots of the Gods" series. His was a timely message about astronaut gods but he overused the exclamation mark and annoyed many with his dogmatism. Needless to say, he was quickly debunked.

Carlos Castaneda (1925-1998)

Carlos Castaneda, L. Ron Hubbard, Aleister Crowley, The Holy Blood & The Holy Grail researchers, Crop Circles, Bhagwan Rajneesh aka Osho, Drunvalo Melchizedek, Dan Winter, José Argüelles,Whitley Strieber, Zecharia Sitchin, Deepak Chopra, Photon Belt proponents, Barbara Hand Clow, Merkabah activations, UFO contactees, the Ashtar Command, Y2K doomsdayers, John Lamb Lash, even Buckminster Fuller... LOTS of gurus, ascended masters and their ideas have been debunked and reality models dismissed by professional debunkers.

Hugo Weaving as Agent Smith
(the ultimate debunker) 

Of course, it's always a bit dampening to have a pet theory laid bare by cold logic or jaundiced perspectives. Parts of myself remain cynical - but my cynicism is reserved for those that would maintain and reinforce the corrupt and degenerate Status Quo - not for those whose efforts are directed towards transforming our intellectual materialism and opening our collective third eye to multidimensional options.

What I feel these days is a certain numbness of the intellect - but my heart is open to embracing all beliefs, no matter how infantile and ignorant; and viewing them as a moving gestalt of fragmented truths, a kaleidoscope of everchanging notions and revelations that ultimately culminate in a crystalline epiphany of Meaning and a soaring symphony of extended octave harmonies.

Debunking teaches us not to cling too tenaciously to anything or anyone or any idea. The only indivisible and indestructible Truth is that we are perfect holograms of the One, fractals of beauty beyond definition or description. And we are gathered here to witness and co-create the magickal manifestation of a New Heaven on a New Earth in the only way it can be accomplished: through synergetic cooperation and loving coherence as an infinitely extendable family of souls.

In lak’ech … A lak’en 

("I am you ... and you are me" in Mayan)

Antares

12 April 2000

[First posted 14 June 2017]

Provocative snippets from an archived Sent Folder... (repost)

Last week I finally handed in my Compaq laptop to HP to get the CD/DVD drive replaced... and I've  regained access to a pile of CDs dating back almost 10 years wherein I've stored all sorts of data - from digitized music files and scanned images to entire folders of emails written 9 years ago. Stuff that would otherwise have disappeared forever with each hard drive crash. Here's a random selection of email snippets (dating from 2003 and 2004) which I reproduce here because the information is still relevant and may be of interest to some of you... and also because I'm utterly bored with the desperate dimness of all the death throe effluvia oozing from the orifices of the recalcitrant (and soon to be irrelevant) misruling elites...


TRUTH IS INVARIABLY STRANGER THAN FICTION

And the simple Truth is: all our religious dogmas and all the teachings allegedly introduced to us by a succession of Avatars has been filtered, tampered with, twisted beyond recognition - simply to keep us barking up the wrong tree and believing - as the Manichaeans did - that Spirit is "above" and "transcendent" to Matter and that we have to kill our egos and suppress our animal natures to "reach God."

Indeed, the Ascension process itself has been turned on its head - leading so many "New Agers" to believe it's more important to be "spiritual" than "merely" physical (as in being completely anchored in molecular awareness and physical form). What is actually happening to me is that I'm finishing the Complete Download of my Primal Godself so as to fully DESCEND into my body and reclaim it from the Worms that have long believed our bodies to be their food source.

CONVERSATION WITH A YOUNG MAGICKIAN NAMED BLAIR

Dear Blair,

You bragged about your prowess as a ritual magickian of the lefthand path, but added that you've since gone ethical and got yourself a job. What sort of work do you do where you have to be up at 5 a.m.? From your energy and syntax, I'd guess that you're an old-headed young man - maybe in your late twenties or early thirties. Am I far off the mark?

As for the rant itself, your grievances are fairly universal and accurately describe the 3D Matrix of Death, Decay and Disease. However, I might have thought a veteran magickian would have found some way to operate beyond the mundane necessity of being a wage slave!

Your present circumstances could, of course, indicate that you went overboard in your magickal work at some point and had your wings chemically clipped - and then you were reinserted into the Matrix, which explains your deep resentment of everything around you.

What I find particularly intriguing is that you call yourself an "Anarcho-Monarchist" - which is precisely how I once described my own political leanings. I explained it thus: I would willingly pledge fealty to someone who naturally inspired allegiance and respect - a true monarch with a luminous crown chakra like, say, Yeshu or Aragorn or Frank Zappa or Sting.

Alas, there are only too few true monarchs to be found in recent centuries (most of the present day royal houses being populated by descendants of usurpers). Indeed, I would myself be willing to accept the lifelong burden of divine kingship (in Thailand the tradition of the Chakravartin or Universal King goes back to ancient times) - but it has been a very long while since humans were able to perceive the luminosity of chakras and thereby recognize those who have attained specific levels of spiritual maturity and cosmic consciousness.

Today it's the corporate-sponsored campaign video produced by expensive spin-doctors - and even then the real power-broking action happens behind the scenes.

The Illuminati network began as a covert resistance to a corrupt and militarily mighty "Holy" Roman Empire - indeed the Knights Templar were originally dedicated to the retrieval and protection of sacred emblems pertaining to the rightful heirs to the throne of Judaea - and by extension the rest of the "civilized" world. Their entire mission was to reclaim planetary governance. But, as we all know, they were either destroyed by the Inquisition or infiltrated and splintered into bickering factions, and this holds true till today.

In lieu of a rightful monarch with whom to align, the only viable alternative has been anarchy.

This is, of course, Tolkien's central motif in the Ring Trilogy... and the "Return of the King" happens to be the core metaphor running through all epic myths, from Odysseus to Star Wars to Tarzan of the Apes and the New Testament.

How I have resolved the problem is to reconcile the Anarchist in me with the Monarch inherent within my DNA. By consciously accepting the scepter of Divine Kingship as exemplified by Yeshu the Christ, I no longer have to seek externally for a Higher Authority.

By embodying deep compassion and universal understanding, the Monarch Within has come to accept and love the Anarchist, the Peter Pan within; and thus Reason and Spirit can be unified and our core beings reintegrated as Divine Fractals sovereign unto our true selves.

I hope this offers you a degree of solace. I do feel a great empathy with your soul.

Blair wrote:

I do not want to slam the door shut forever on God. I have my problems with God but in the final analysis I do forgive God, and would hope to be given understandings as to why I have suffered so much in this world, when I am reunited with the Universal Mind after death....

Ah, prodigal Sun! No fatted calf this time around, pointless taking risks with Mad Cow on the rampage! You are nevertheless greatly beloved and cherished. Indeed, your words reveal an amazingly innocent inner core.

Thanks for your thought-provoking, love-evoking response, Blair. If the urge ever arises, do tell me what sort of suffering you've survived. Sometimes it helps just to tell someone.

MY ADVICE TO BRAHMA

Hey Antares! How are you? I am still to get there some time, but maybe not in time for the stargate activation ceremony. My intent will nonetheless be with you.. So wise wizard of the light, I have a question for you about my present journey... Seems I am processing a past life experience and /or integrating some energy that I could only describe as reptilian. Extreme aggression, amazing physical stamina, sexual power trips and mind control are some of the attributes. Quite terrifying for peaceful old Brahma. I thought for a while that I was being possessed by a nasty spirit - but it is all me, albeit an ancient me to be integrated, I now see. Does this make any sense to you? Any assistance or suggestions? ~ Brahma

Greetings, Brahma!

Good that this program is manifesting so vividly a this point - so at least your other aspects can become aware of it and pay attention to what it means.

We are all a multi-layered genetic cocktail - but the renegade reptilian DNA distorted the morphogenetic field to the extent that we now witness eruptions of acute sadomasochism and other socio-pathological behaviors - rape, torture, brutal murder, child molestation, berserker gods, and so on - across the board.

Seems you have a sizeable dose of reptilian creator-god genetics from the early days of the invasion and colonization of the Earth, interwoven with the more angelic strands - indeed, nothing to be alarmed about as most of us with strong ego drives have this "problem" - it's what propels individuals like Alexander or Charlemagne or Napoleon to seek "greatness" by dominating others.

Can be a shitty program to deactivate, especially since the adrenaline rush of the artificial power trip is really addictive. But once you recognize and identify the genetic trait as one that's being phased out of the evolutionary process, you consciously make a decision to gently let go of it rather than be dragged back down into the hellish pits of holographic horrors wherein pain and suffering are either inflicted or endured.

I guess it's something akin to "possession" by hostile astral parasites - only thing is, the impulse to dominate is inherent within the DNA - that's why the renegade reptilians opted for their agenda of "racial supremacy" and began tampering with their own genetics to turn themselves into a ruthless, unfeeling, warlike species capable of pillaging and plundering and planting their genetic flag wherever they could, becoming universal predators and introducing the fang-and-claw survival-at-all-costs program into our embedded circuitry.

In India, the ascetics became vegetarian, fasted, subjected their bodies to all sorts of rigorous discipline in an attempt to exorcise exactly this genetic trait - with varying results. The emotional therapies available to us today are far gentler and possibly more effective.

Heiko & Selina Niedermeyer

For instance, what Heiko & Selina have been doing with the Releasing technique they practice can soften up the subconscious so that it discharges these stored memories into the conscious where they can be transmuted - and hence HEALING soon follows.

Many ways this can happen - different strokes for different folks. In your case, I feel you have sufficient intelligence and self-awareness to begin the process - but it's usually easier if you can find an empathetic sounding board - someone who can assist you in the process.

The fact that you brought up this issue is already a very positive indication that you've begun the task of shedding this unnecessary skin of reactionary reptilian implants and liberating yourself from apocalyptic scenarios. If you can do it, so can Ariel Sharon and Dick Cheney!

When we meet at Magick River, I'll give you a scan and see if the "problem" is already resolved, as it may well be by the time you get here.


Brahma wrote: You seem to be my sounding board at the moment, hope you’re still traveling with me on all this stuff... and might have some answers on this one too.

The shamanistic experiments you describe can be fun to play with but a lot of times you're opening your field to etheric micro-organisms - yup, they're really just like bacteria - that can ultimately fuck up your ability to be a simple, straightforward, honest, divine human with absolutely no problems.

It's a bit like being an Orang asli kid with a powerful catapult larking around in the forest and shooting at anything that moves: first he hits a couple of defenceless birdies, then he knocks down a green mango, and finally he inadvertently shoots an old boar right in the snout... well, those guys have wicked tusks, you don't want one of those charging at you through the psychic undergrowth!

In effect, you've been toying with a species of black magic very popular with the Khazarian or Ashkenazi Jews who were well-known for their occult knowledge (that's why all their best wizards and astrologers have always been co-opted to serve the Babylonian nobility, manifest in modern times as the Military-Industrial-Financial Complex). These mentalists were really into creating golems to do their bidding and steal stuff for them, sort of like a voodoo Fagin.

I don't know if this sort of magic originated in Lemuria - it must have - and then migrated to Atlantis before becoming part of the Ashkenazi Jewish and Gypsy heritage.

You're a big boy, Brahma, and can look after yourself - so I'm not going to pass you any avuncular advice you probably won't take on board anyway. ALL ELSE SAID, INNOCENCE IS STILL THE BEST POSSIBLE INSURANCE AGAINST INSANITY!

CALLING UPON "JESUS CHRIST" 
FOR PROTECTION

First of all, I'd like to share my gut feelings on the much-circulated "alien intervention" message... the sentiments expressed therein seem quite benign and well-intentioned and are in fact the projection of what millions of awakening humans have long secretly hoped to witness, sort of like hearing the triumphant blare of bugles as reinforcements from the U.S. Cavalry arrive just in time to rescue the occupants of the besieged fort from being scalped by marauding redskins - the very stuff of classic Hollywood cowboys-&-injuns movies.

Today many would laugh at the obvious spin and take the side of the vastly outgunned Injuns rather than the invading U.S. Cavalry. Nonetheless, the desire for a deus ex machina solution to seemingly insurmountable problems is very much part of our adolescent psyche - and the 5th human root race is predominantly just reaching young adulthood in spiritual terms, which means adolescent yearnings are still pretty much present.

While reading the long "channeling" from the unnamed alien group (anonymity always makes me suspicious; there is so much crap on the Internet, because email addresses are so impersonal and conceal more than they reveal) the teenaged part of me was thrilled to think that we might soon be sitting around chewing the fat with our starry brothers and sisters - BUT the more "street-savvy" part of me was saying: "Wait a minute! Doesn't this sound a bit like a new-age species of cargo cultism (this refers to the "religion" spawned by early contact between Papua New Guinean natives and the very first white men they encountered who arrived by seaplane, bearing wonderful gifts)?

Soon after the initial largesse of baccy, beads and baubles, came the colonizers, timber merchants, and troops...

Now I'm not at all xenophobic by nature - but my deep intuition informs me that REAL transformations ALWAYS occur from WITHIN. The bi-polarity of our earthly Punch & Judy melodramas exist only as a mirror to our own split personalities, they are intended as feedback to help us outgrow the urge to forever seek scapegoats and distract ourselves from the inner quest with external enemies, real or imagined.

In my opinion, the televised arrival of visitors from other sectors of the Milky Way or beyond will do little for our own spiritual maturation. The mess we are facing is of our own making, and must be cleared by our own realizations, through our own volition.

For the most part our problems stem from the fact that the Adamic Race was genetically manipulated (by "fallen angel" ETs generally called the Jehovian-Anunnaki) to seek deliverance through messiahs and follow charismatic leaders. This is what we have to outgrow: the desire to give away our power to emblems of external authority, whether they be white-smocked scientists, politicos in dark suits and red ties, blonde bombshells from Venus, or cute little blue balls of light from the Pleiades.

It's not that I disbelieve in a richly populated cosmos - indeed I know we are not alone and never have been. However, I've long sensed that bona fide bodhisattvas from other evolutionary spirals enter our physical reality by projecting fractals of themselves holographically into earthly incarnations - ET emissaries and starry midwives to humanity's ascension are already amongst us by the thousands, perhaps even millions - but they are in human embodiment and can be contacted via email.

No need for them to arrive like some Industrial Light Magic special effect in mechanical merkabas (I'm reminded of Tim Burton's Hawaiian music hating Martians in red jockey shorts).

As for the OTHER message.... sorry, I am quite repulsed by the low-grade frequencies emanating from it. There are two significant clues that reveal that its source is not impeccable:

1) The name JESUS CHRIST is a gross distortion of the human potential for full fusion with the divine, a state of being described as Christ consciousness or attaining the Christos. No one who truly understands the process will use the vulgar Christianized version which robs it of authentic meaning.

In the first place the Anglicized name "Jesus" disconnects us from the experience of being "Yeshua" (the Hebrew name written as IH-Sh-VH, which kabbalistically denotes the alchemical wedding of Spirit and Matter). And by corrupting the name to "Jesus Christ" we become blind to the fact that the Christ is NOT a surname but an office or title like King or President - and it means "perfect master" or "anointed one."

In other words, the Christ is a state of being that we are all destined to attain, sooner or later, just as Buddha is another degree of Awareness often described as "awake" or "enlightened." Now if the name were rendered "Jesus the Christ" (as you find in The Aquarian Gospel) - then there's a good chance that the source of the information is kosher, simply because this reveals that the writer is referring to a culture hero popularly known as Yeheshua or Yeshua or Joshua (referred to as Emmanuel in the first chapter of the New Testament) who successfully attained Christ consciousness 2,000 years ago and made it possible for posterity to do the same.

The "Second Coming" indicates a massive awakening into Christ consciousness - crucial to our ascension. While it is perfectly possible that the Sananda aspect that incarnated 2,000 years ago as Yeshua might be physically present on Earth at this juncture, he would certainly not be accepted as such or recognized by those who regard themselves as Christians.

2) The tract ends with AMEN - the name of a bloodthirsty god of war (also known as Amun or Moloch) whose corrupt priesthood continues to mislead humanity and whose insidious and distorting influence extends to all entrenched institutions on Earth. Wherever economic and military might rules, there you shall find the hidden hand of AMEN!

Indeed, there is little doubt that all institutionalized religions on Earth - including the Mammonism practiced by our rapacious corporate entities - merely serve as fronts for the hypocritical and vampiric cult of Amen.

[First posted 18 June 2012, reposted 21 September 2015 & 21 February 2019]