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Dragons of Thuban To Ban The Falseness


    the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

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    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
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    the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Mon Mar 19, 2012 12:09 pm

    [flash][/flash]


    In Lake'ch kin and friends and dragons and kin

    after the sudden death of that pTb-thread -washed away by zvuya lines of infinite potential.... let's listen to Old Friend J G Ballard




    1/Critical Mass
    Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog, Dr Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.
    Now that everything had returned to normal, he was surprised that there had been no obvious beginning, no point beyond which their lives had moved into a clearly more sinister dimention.
    With its forty floors and thousand apartments, its supermarket and swimming-pools, bank and junior school -- all in effect abandoned in the sky-- the high-rise offered more than enough opportunities for violence and confrontation. Certainly his own studio apartment on the 25th floor was the last place Laing would have chosen as an early skirmish-ground.
    This over-priced cell, slotted almost at random into the cliff face of the
    apartment building, he had bought after his divorce specifically for its
    peace, quiet and anonymity. Curiously enough, despite all Laing's efforts todetach himself from his two thousand neighbours and the regime of trivial disputes and irritations that provided their only corporate life, it was here if anywhere that the first significant event had taken place -- on this balcony where he now squatted beside a fire of telephone directories, eating the roast hind-quarter of the alsatian before setting off to his lecture at the medical school.

    On the other hand, the dimensions of his life were space, light and the
    pleasures of a subtle kind of anonymity. The drive to the physiology department of the medical school took him five minutes, and apart from this single excursion Laing's life in the high-rise was as self- contained as the building itself. In effect, the apartment block was a small vertical city, its two thousand inhabitants boxed up into the sky. The tenants corporately owned the building, which they administered themselves through a resident manager and his staff.


    On the balcony diagonally above him one of Laing's neighbours, Charlotte
    Melville, was setting out a tray of drinks on a table. Queasily aware of his
    strained liver, Laing remembered that at Alice's party the previous evening he had accepted an invitation to cocktails. Thankfully, Charlotte had rescued him from the orthodontic surgeon with the disposal-chute obsessions. Laing had been too drunk to get anywhere with this good-looking widow of thirty-five, apart from learning that she was a copywriter with a small but lively advertising agency. The proximity of her apartment, like her easy style,

    Sex was one thing, Laing kept on reminding himself, that the high-rise potentially provided in abundance. Bored wives, dressed up as if for a lavish midnight gala on the observation roof, hung around the swimming-pools and restaurant in the slack hours of the early afternoon, or strolled arm-in-arm along the loth-floor concourse. Laing watched them saunter past him with a fascinated but cautious eye. For all his feigned cynicism, he knew that he was in a vulnerable zone in this period soon after his divorce -- one happy affair, with Charlotte Melville or anyone else, and he would slip straight into another marriage. He had come to the high-rise to get away from all relationships. Even his sister's presence, and the reminders of their high-strung mother, a doctor's widow slowly sliding into alcoholism, at one time seemed too close for comfort.


    As he guessed, even this apparently casual meeting in Charlotte's apartment had been set up to test his attitude to the upper-level residents who were trying to exclude children from the 35th-floor swimming-pool.

    "The terms of our leases guarantee us equal access to all facilities, Charlotte explained. "We've decided to set up a parents' action group."
    "Doesn't that leave me out ?"

    Soon after nine o'clock that evening, an electrical failure temporarily blacked out the 9th, 10th and 11th floors. Looking back on this episode, Laing was surprisedby the degree of confusion during the fifteen minutes of the blackout.
    Some two hundred people were present on the 10th floor concourse, and many were injured in the stampede for the elevatorsand staircases. A number of absurd but unpleasant altercations broke out in the darkness between those who wanted to descend to their apartments on the lower levels and the residents from the upper floors who insisted on escaping upwards into the cooler heights of the building. During the blackout two of the twenty elevators were put out of action. The air-conditioning had been switched off,and a woman passenger trapped in an
    elevator between the 10th and nth floors became hysterical, possibly the victim of a minor sexual assault -- the restoration of light in due course revealed its crop of illicit liaisons flourishing in the benevolent conditions of total darkness like a voracious plant species.

    During these days after the drowning of the dog, the air of over-excitement within the high-rise gradually settled itself, but to Dr Laing this comparative calm was all the more ominous. The swimming-pool on the 10th floor remained deserted, partly, Laing assumed, because everyone felt that the water was contaminated by the dead Afghan. An almost palpable miasma hung over the slack water, as if the spirit of the drowned beast was gathering to itself all the forces of revenge and retribution present within the building.dear Kin
    http://highrisepr.com/







    …and Ezekiel gose on to a o' deScribe four winged humanoids, ea®ch with four faces (man, lion, ox and eagle) who emerge from a vehicle (or vehicles) in march that Ezekiel famously describes as wheels within wheels:

    “The appearance of the wheels and their work was like unto the colour of a beryl: and they four had one likeness: and their appearance and their work was as it were a wheel in the middle of a wheel.”

    “As for their rings, they were so high that they were dreadful; and their rings were full of eyes round about them. And when the living creatures went, the wheels went by them: and when the living creatures were lifted up from the earth, the wheels were lifted up.”


    Most Mayan Calendar researchers are aware of the 3114 BCE start date of the current long count cycle, less people are aware however that the Kali Yuga, a predicted era of moral decent and spiritual bleakness, began in the year 3102 BCE... a startling similarity. There is a mere 12 years difference for systems on different sides of the planet. The Brahma Vaivarta Purana Sutra, from ancient India depicts a period which has many of the failings visible in our modern society. Such is the backdrop of the spiritual decline in the Kali Yuga…

    CeREnnioS-archetype plain G- role in this
    amax/me/shmatch??? and this ay'n't anything besides the whole race or a
    golem lineageagag and …


    and the following excerpt from that great Tek-Gnostic Saint, Hakim Bey. At the dawn of pre-history, it is said, humanity worshiped a Goddess who often co-existed with a male Deity, sometimes depicted with horns. Such figures represent humanity's elemental search for survival and meaning in mortality, a relentless quest for unity with the divine and the interdependent nature of the existential web.



    Vividly decorating the cauldron's plates are scenes of war and sacrifice, bearded deities wrestling ferocious beasts, a bare-breasted goddess standing flanked by elephants, and a commanding figure with stag's antlers brandishing a ram-headed snake in one hand and a twisted neck collar or torc in the other. Most scholars agree this figure is Cernunnos.



    and this leaDing Di-rectly to hermosa/o ravenIshtar

    "We are the stargate 3-D and higher and it is sexually activated.
    We do it through tapping into the polyamorous energy of creation itself.

    The new energy has unlimited potential and is highly orgasmic.
    We become the wormhole and the ET descends into our blackhole heart "
    ~ ~Amzara Ishtara Raven


    http://soundcloud.com/george-reid/high-rise-tribute-to-j-g


    cosmic night
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Wed Mar 21, 2012 6:04 pm




    projét provortiC-≈…es-feminal.org
    intensity ∞
    loving the power of nein e- (time)

    In Lak’esh
    Aw wOwls +pl Love that image )

    apropoË apophenia. DharmaKaya, Sambhogakaya, Nirmanakaya What should i do with a wormhole…. the name… alone disgusting! are we here in an earthworm grease….


    and is the grease takin over, please
    When we have sufficient minds that have attained this vibrational purity then we will see real magic. After individuation is exhausted and we are tired of our egos, then we can return to source and ready ourselves to rejoin the Oversoul and the Noosphere.
    Then, together we will advance to the next stage. This is always a process, but it is a process we all must Undergo Alone- as the individual soul dissolves into the ocean of Universal Awareness.


    Our job is to see to it that our bodily cells are vibrating at the frequency of our primary intention to take this joURney in the first place. Everyone who is alive at this time on this sphere of reality is being tested- it is an across~the~cosmos process. For us, it means we have all come to this planet at this time and 2012 is the graduation. Many of us may realize that this is our last incarnation in this particular process.”



    Thinking is behavior. The mistake is in allocating the behavior to the mind.

    Does behaviorist J B. Watson indicate, thoughts, our average consuming energetic
    i-llope-looping has its origin in all but the mind

    "Within the Entropy of Time ALL and Everything must Fall from Grace"
    "But within the Space of Nothing you will ALL Turn your Face"
    "The Space of Nothing will become Time as Time becomes Space"



    ..starts with the Golden Age (aka Satya Yuga) which ultimately gives way to the Silver Age (Treta Yuga). This is followed by the Bronze Age (Dwapara Yuga) which eventually devolves into the last and final one known as the Kali Yuga* or Iron Age, the end of which is where we now find ourselves as a planetary civilization.

    *Kali Yuga is quite often erroneously referred to as a 432,000 year period by scholars who are simply repeating a gross miscalculation in the underlying mathematics of the relevant scriptural pronouncements on the cyclic progression of the yugas. The actual duration of Kali Yuga has been determined to be somewhere between 5000 and 5200 years long not including its dawn and twilights periods. Alain Danielou offers an authoritative treatment of this subject matter in his book entitled “While The Gods Play”.

    As for the significant correlations to Mayan calendrics, we are forced to point out that the Kali Yuga is universally known to begin with the day of that Lord Krishna passed from this earth plane. Lord Krishna was known as a major incarnation of Lord Vishnu, one of the three primary deities of the Hindu Trinity. His day of departure has been calculated to be somewhere between 3102 to 3125 BC which would place him in the exact time frame when many believe the Mayan Long Count began. Therefore, our thesis provides a very good frame of reference for determining the exact start date of the Long Count. If we can pinpoint the year and day of Lord Krishna’s passing, we may very well have identified the first day of the Mayan Calendar. Whereas the exact end date is of paramount importance and can only be determined by this start date, we are greatly encouraged by this historical clue left to us by one of the most widely known incarnations of the Lord ever to walk the Earth.

    Likewise, the time warp, which characterizes the Universal Creation Cycle as the turning inside out of the 3rd Density* space time continuum takes place, points directly to the cosmic nexus known as zero point (what is effectively the termination point of the Universal Underworld). It would be quite helpful, especially for those who expect to fall over the event horizon at zero point, to know that their lives will not be sucked into a black hole as prophesied by some. Of course, at that exact moment in time and beyond it is asserted by many that existence in the newly emerged realm of 5th density will be one lived entirely in the present moment, also known as the eternal NOW.

    FrOm October 28, 2011 all the waves went into their night modes, which however does not mean that the energies of the Mayan calendar will stop influencing us. The Ninth wave, and the energy opening that was created when all nine waves were in the day mode last year, has made an indelible impression on humanity, and after some time of reflection new avenues to move forward will be sought by people more broadly. Thus, the 9th Wave continues to grind unity consciousness into existence,


    Harmonic Convergence of August 16-17, 1987.

    This single event seeded the planetary consciousness with many of the key concepts of Mayan cosmology by bringing to light the awesome legacy of the Mayan Time Lords.

    Jose Arguelles, / valum votan, provided by numerous wisdoms gifted to humanity by the Mayan Timeengineers, (arcturus Probe, Time and the Technosphere) paved the way for human timetravellers towards the Galactic Underworld which is of great importance, since the Universal Creation Cycle, which is only 260 or 234 days in length, occurs throughout the final 260/234 days of the Galactic Creation Cycle. The outworking of the highly accelerated energies of the Universal Underworld spiked with the BP Gulf oil spill disaster of 2010 and Japan nuclear catastrophe of 2011 as testaments to his extraordinary prescience (via the Mayan Long Count Calendar). Likewise, his penetrating insights and astute perceptions concerning the across several disciplines is very impressive.
    And He came for One reason: To stop Time! ”




    and of course for…Singing our heart song
    This is family
    This is unity
    This is celebration
    This is sacred*

    Africa is literally going to be the "New World" within 75 years. What happens when you heal a continent and the basics are then available without the control of disease or dictators

    You present Earthlings, whose “scientists” speak only in terms of a violent universe, you have little awareness or recollection of the primal meditations………………
    A big part of the t|reason that we do not have peace on earth is of course that we accept different centers and organize our lives around these. If many decide to make the sun the ce ………
    i better go to….. High Rise - jg ballard……

    That evening, however, as he reached the already crowded car-park, Laing was
    surprised by his fellow tenants' tolerant behaviour. He arrived at the same
    time as his neighbour Dr Steele. By rights they should have raced each other
    for the last vacant place, and taken separate elevators to their floor. But
    tonight each beckoned the other forward in a show of exaggerated gallantry and
    waited while the other parked. They even walked together to the main entrance.
    In the lobby a group of tenants stood outside the manager's office,
    remonstrating noisily with his secretary. The electrical supply system on the
    gth floor was still out of order, and at night the floor was in darkness.
    Fortunately it was light until late in the summer evening, but the
    inconvenience to the fifty residents on the floor was considerable. None of
    the appliances in their apartments would function, and the limits of
    co-operation with their neighbours on the floors above and below had soon been reached.
    Steele watched them unsympathetically. Although he was in his late twenties, his manner was already securely middle-aged. Laing found himself fascinated by his immaculate centre parting, almost an orifice.

    "They're always complaining about something," Steele confided to Laing as they
    stepped into an elevator. "If it isn't this, it's that. They seem unwilling to
    accept that the services in a new building take time to settle down."
    "Still, it must be a nuisance to have no power."
    Steele shook his head. "They persistently overload the master-fuses with their
    elaborate stereo-systems and unnecessary appliances. Electronic baby-minders
    because the mothers are too lazy to get out of their easy chairs, special
    mashers for their children's food . . ."
    Laing waited for the journey to end, already regretting his new-found
    solidarity with his neighbour. For some reason, Steele made him nervous. Not
    for the first time, he wished he had purchased an apartment above the 30th
    floor. The high-speed elevators were bliss.
    "The children here look well enough to me," he remarked when they stepped out
    at the 25th floor.
    The surgeon held his elbow in a surprisingly powerful grip. He smiled
    reassuringly, flashing a mouth like a miniature cathedral of polished ivory.
    "Believe me, Laing. I see their teeth."
    The punitive tone in Steele's voice, as if he were describing a traditionally
    feckless band of migrant workers rather than his well-to-do neighbours, came
    as a surprise to Laing. He knew casually a few of the 9th floor residents -- a
    sociologist who was a friend of Charlotte
    Melville's, and an air-traffic controller who played string trios with friends
    on the 25th floor, an amusing and refined man to whom Laing often talked as he
    carried his cello into the elevator.
    But distance lent disenchantment.
    The extent of this separation of loyalties was brought home to Laing when he
    set off to play squash with Anthony Royal. He took an elevator up to the 40th
    floor and, as usual, arrived ten minutes early so that he could go out on to
    the roof. The spectacular view always made Laing aware of his ambivalent
    feelings for this concrete landscape. Part of its appeal lay all too clearly
    in the fact that this was an environment built, not for man, but for man's
    absence.

    Laing leaned against the parapet, shivering pleasantly in his sports-clothes.
    He shielded his eyes from the strong air currents that rose off the face of
    the high-rise. The cluster of auditorium roofs, curving roadway embankments
    and rectilinear curtain-walling formed an intriguing medley of geometries --
    less a habitable architecture, he reflected, than the unconscious diagram of a
    mysterious psychic event.Fifty feet away to Laing's left a cocktail party was in progress. Two buffet tables covered with white cloths had been laid with trays of canapés and
    glasses, and a waiter was serving drinks behind a portable bar. Some thirty
    guests in evening dress stood about talking in small groups. For a few minutes
    Laing ignored them, absent-mindedly tapping his rackets case on the parapet,
    but something about the hard, over-animated chatter made him turn. Several of
    the guests were looking in his direction, and Laing was certain that they were
    talking about him. The party had moved nearer, and the closest guests were no
    more than ten feet away. All were residents from the top three floors. Even
    more unusual was the self-conscious formality of their dress. At none of the
    parties in the high-rise had Laing seen anyone dressed in anything other than
    casual wear, yet here the men wore dinner-jackets and black ties, the women
    floor-length evening dresses.
    They carried themselves in a purposeful way, as if this were less a party than
    a planning conference.
    Almost within arm's reach, the immaculate figure of a well-to-do art dealer
    was squaring up to Laing, the lapels of his dinner-jacket flexing like an
    over-worked bellows. On either side of him were the middle-aged wives of a
    stock-exchange jobber and a society photographer, staring distastefully at
    Laing's white sports-clothes and sneakers.
    Laing picked up his rackets case and towel bag, but his way to the staircase
    was blocked by the people around him. The entire cocktail party had moved
    along the roof, and the waiter now stood alone between the bar and the buffet
    tables.
    That evening, however, as he reached the already crowded car-park, Laing was
    surprised by his fellow tenants' tolerant behaviour. He arrived at the same
    time as his neighbour Dr Steele. By rights they should have raced each other
    for the last vacant place, and taken separate elevators to their floor. But
    tonight each beckoned the other forward in a show of exaggerated gallantry and
    waited while the other parked. They even walked together to the main entrance.
    In the lobby a group of tenants stood outside the manager's office,
    remonstrating noisily with his secretary. The electrical supply system on the
    gth floor was still out of order, and at night the floor was in darkness.
    Fortunately it was light until late in the summer evening, but the
    inconvenience to the fifty residents on the floor was considerable. None of
    the appliances in their apartments would function, and the limits of
    co-operation with their neighbours on the floors above and below had soon been
    reached.
    Steele watched them unsympathetically. Although he was in his late twenties,
    his manner was already securely middle-aged. Laing found himself fascinated by
    his immaculate centre parting, almost an orifice.

    "They're always complaining about something," Steele confided to Laing as they
    stepped into an elevator. "If it isn't this, it's that. They seem unwilling to
    accept that the services in a new building take time to settle down."
    "Still, it must be a nuisance to have no power."
    Steele shook his head. "They persistently overload the master-fuses with their
    elaborate stereo-systems and unnecessary appliances. Electronic baby-minders
    because the mothers are too lazy to get out of their easy chairs, special
    mashers for their children's food . . ."
    Laing waited for the journey to end, already regretting his new-found
    solidarity with his neighbour. For some reason, Steele made him nervous. Not
    for the first time, he wished he had purchased an apartment above the 30th
    floor. The high-speed elevators were bliss.
    "The children here look well enough to me," he remarked when they stepped out
    at the 25th floor.

    The surgeon held his elbow in a surprisingly powerful grip. He smiled
    reassuringly, flashing a mouth like a miniature cathedral of polished ivory.
    "Believe me, Laing. I see their teeth."
    The punitive tone in Steele's voice, as if he were describing a traditionally
    feckless band of migrant workers rather than his well-to-do neighbours, came
    as a surprise to Laing. He knew casually a few of the 9th floor residents -- a
    sociologist who was a friend of Charlotte Melville's, and an air-traffic controller
    who played string trios with friends on the 25th floor, an amusing and refined man to whom Laing often talked as he carried his cello into the elevator.
    But distance lent disenchantment.
    The extent of this separation of loyalties was brought home to Laing when he
    set off to play squash with Anthony Royal. He took an elevator up to the 40th
    floor and, as usual, arrived ten minutes early so that he could go out on to
    the roof. The spectacular view always made Laing aware of his ambivalent
    feelings for this concrete landscape. Part of its appeal lay all too clearly
    in the fact that this was an environment built, not for man, but for man's absence.

    Laing leaned against the parapet, shivering pleasantly in his sports-clothes.
    He shielded his eyes from the strong air currents that rose off the face of
    the high-rise. The cluster of auditorium roofs, curving roadway embankments
    and rectilinear curtain-walling formed an intriguing medley of geometries --
    less a habitable architecture, he reflected, than the unconscious diagram of a
    mysterious psychic event. Fifty feet away to Laing's left a cocktail party was in progress. Two buffet tables covered with white cloths had been laid with trays of canapés and glasses, and a waiter was serving drinks behind a portable bar. Some thirty guests in evening dress stood about talking in small groups.
    For a few minutes Laing ignored them, absent-mindedly tapping his rackets case on the parapet,
    but something about the hard, over-animated chatter made him turn. Several of
    the guests were looking in his direction, and Laing was certain that they were
    talking about him. The party had moved nearer, and the closest guests were no
    more than ten feet away. All were residents from the top three floors. Even
    more unusual was the self-conscious formality of their dress. At none of the
    parties in the high-rise had Laing seen anyone dressed in anything other than
    casual wear, yet here the men wore dinner-jackets and black ties, the women
    floor-length evening dresses.
    They carried themselves in a purposeful way, as if this were less a party than a planning conference.

    Almost within arm's reach, the immaculate figure of a well-to-do art dealer
    was squaring up to Laing, the lapels of his dinner-jacket flexing like an
    over-worked bellows. On either side of him were the middle-aged wives of a
    stock-exchange jobber and a society photographer, staring distastefully at
    Laing's white sports-clothes and sneakers.
    Laing picked up his rackets case and towel bag, but his way to the staircase
    was blocked by the people around him. The entire cocktail party had moved
    along the roof, and the waiter now stood alone between the bar and the buffet
    tables.


    Below them, on the 9th floor, a children's party was in full swing. The
    parents made no attempt to restrain their offspring, in effect urging them to
    make as much noise as possible. Within half an hour, fuelled by a constant
    flow of alcohol, the parents took over from their children. Charlotte laughed
    openly as soft drinks were poured on to the cars below, drenching the
    windscreens and roofs of the expensive limousines and sports saloons in the
    front ranks.
    These lively proceedings were watched by hundreds of residents who had come
    out on to their balconies. Playing up to their audience, the parents egged on
    their children. The party was soon out of control. Drunken children tottered
    about helplessly. High above them, on the 37th floor, a woman barrister began
    to shout angrily, outraged by the damage to her open-topped sports-
    car, whose black leather seats were covered with melting ice-cream.

    A pleasant carnival atmosphere reigned. At least it made a change, Laing felt,
    from the formal behaviour of the high-rise. Despite themselves, he and
    Charlotte joined in the laughter and applause as if they were spectators at an
    impromptu amateur circus.

    A remarkable number of parties were being held that evening. Usually, few
    parties took place other than at weekends, but on this Wednesday evening
    everyone was involved in one revel or another. Telephones rang continuously,
    and Charlotte and Laing were invited to no less than six separate parties.
    "I ought to get my hair done." Charlotte took his arm happily, almost
    embracing Laing.
    "What exactly are we celebrating?" The question surprised Laing. He held Charlotte's shoulder, as if protecting her. "God only knows -- nothing to do with fun and games."

    http://mmoreporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/eve-online02.jpg

    One of the invitations had come from Richard Wilder. Instantly, both he and
    Charlotte declined.
    "Why did we refuse?" Charlotte asked, her hand still on the receiver. "He was
    expecting us to say no."
    "The Wilders live on the and floor," Laing explained. "Things _are_ rather
    rowdy down there . . ."
    "Robert, that's a rationalization."
    Behind Charlotte, as she spoke, her television set was showing the newsreel of
    an attempted prison break-out. The sound had been turned down, and the silent
    images of crouching warders and police, and the tiers of barricaded cells,
    nickered between her legs. Everyone in the high-rise, Laing reflected, watched
    television with the sound down. The same images glowed through his neighbours'
    doorways when he returned to his apartment. For the first time,people were
    leaving their front doors ajar and moving casually in and out of each other's
    apartments.
    However, these intimacies did not extend beyond each resident's immediate
    floor. Elsewhere the polarization of the building proceeded apace. Finding
    that he had run out of liquor, Laing took the elevator down to the loth-floor
    concourse. As he expected, there was a heavy run on alcohol, and long lines of
    impatient residents stood outside the liquor store. Seeing his sister
    Alice near the counter, Laing tried to enlist her help. Without hesitating,
    she turned him down, and promptly launched into a vigorous denunciation of the
    tomfoolery that afternoon. In some way she clearly associated Laing with the
    lower-floor tenants responsible, identifying him with Richard Wilder and his rowdies.
    As Laing waited to be served, what resembled a punitive expedition from the
    upper floors caused a fracas in the swimming-pool. A party of residents from
    the top three floors arrived in a belligerent mood. Among them was the actress
    whose Afghan hound had drowned in the pool. She and her companions began by
    fooling about in the water, drinking champagne on a rubber raft against the
    swimming-pool rules and splashing people leaving the changing cubicles. After
    a futile attempt to intercede, the elderly attendant gave up and retreated to
    his booth behind the diving-boards.

    The elevators were full of aggressive pushing and heaving. The signal buttons
    behaved erratically, and the elevator shafts drummed as people pounded
    impatiently on the doors. On their way to a party on the 27th floor Laing and
    Charlotte were jostled when their elevator was carried down to the 3rd floor
    by a trio of drunken pilots. Bottles in hand, they had been trying for half an
    hour to reach the 10th floor. Seizing Charlotte good-humouredly around the
    waist, one of the pilots almost dragged her off to the small projection
    theatre beside the school which had previously been used for showing
    children's films. The theatre was now screening a private programme of blue
    movies, including one apparently made on the premises with locally recruited
    performers.
    At the party on the 27th floor,.……


    Last edited by cosmicnight13 on Fri Mar 30, 2012 6:03 pm; edited 1 time in total
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Tue Mar 27, 2012 5:18 pm

    [youtube][/youtube]


    ah yes the link… lol http://eternalgodliness.punt.nl/index.php?r=1&id=550941&tbl_archief=1#550941

    Echoes of the Dark Mother
    from: Rhyannan



    New is something old
    
 Seen for the first time
    
 Again

    Centred in a fiery corona, though swept by Time's tempest, Blake's 'Ancient of Days' marks out the lower worlds with refined attention.

    Deep within the world’s mythologies, one image - a primary ‘character’ – exists, that ‘echoes’ the new theories about the Universe.
    The ‘agent’ of the Underworld perceived on HER ‘via negativa’ and ‘via transformativa’. and equally importantly, 4th face of the Goddess, but the one that underlies all the others. As such, She is known as the Midwife – She who is the ‘unseen’ hands, guiding all births and deaths, and therefore, all transformations from one to the other in the cycles of life. She is, therefore, also all ‘doorways’ (between Upperworld/Underworld, where the four ‘vias’ (creativa, postiva, negativa and transformativa) a rev to flow from one into the other, in an endless cycle of creation.
    The ‘God’ of patriarchy is predominately one of ‘light’, and echoes our own struggles to ‘en-light-en’ our world (know-ledge) and in so doing demonizes all the male gods who were loyal to the Dark Mother (which when mixed, became the imagery portrayed of the Devil) Reduced to a mere ‘vessel’ of the God’s sperm, she was demoted from being the mysterious power within matter, to matter itself – considered the lifeless ‘stuff’ that true power that the ‘male’ acts upon.

    No fear the ‘phosphorescent angel– a womb not filled with silent, still empty space, but seething energy that has not become ‘light-abled’ as yet – the Shimmering Mystery of the Dark Mother rises again, in¡sis’ting in her invitation to abandon body, mind and spirit, leaving the human mold behind. This in compliance and being still consistent with the concept of implicate order (Bohm) as matrix: this challenge will turn into a Focus. we are unknowingly taught to leave our dependent and co-dependent abnormal affairs and relationships behind. .The Dark Sterile Mother on the Tree of Life is Binah (the 3rd sphere and the first femine Sephirah) Her number is nine, symbolizing wisdom and sacred magick. Nine is also the number of completion and the completion of beginnings ...


    .
    Chiron in Pisces begins a pathway that enhances as Neptune's spiritual blueprint begins to reflect the true inner essence of each person. many new pathways open up that become visible for those who are aware of the spiritual essence within the material world. Life is all around us, and God is the creator of Life. To miss this viewpoint every moment of the day is the common shroud that is worn like blinders for many. Yet Life is the great power and true essence of our purpose. As many of the old "structures" begin to tumble, and the facades break apart as Pluto continues …..



    While the party on 27. floor was in full swing…

    "Call this a clan would be more exact," Talbot commented. "The population of
    this apartment block is nowhere near so homogeneous as it looks at first
    sight. We'll soon be refusing to speak to anyone outside our own enclave." He
    added, "My car had its windscreen smashed this afternoon by a falling bottle.
    Could I move it back to where you people are?" As a qualified physician,
    Talbot was entitled to park in the ranks closest to the building. Laing,
    perhaps anticipating the dangers of proximity, had never made use of this
    concession. The psychiatrist's request was instantly granted by his fellow
    residents, an appeal to solidarity that no member of his clan could deny.
    The party was one of the most successful Laing had attended. Unlike the
    majority of parties in the high-rise, at which well-bred guests stood about
    exchanging professional small-talk before excusing themselves, this one had
    real buoyancy, an atmosphere of true excitement. Within half an hour almost
    all the women were drunk, a yardstick Laing had long used to measure the success of a party.

    When he complimented Talbot the psychiatrist was non-committal. "There's a
    quickening pulse in the air, all right, but has it anything to do with good
    humour or fellow-feeling? Rather the opposite, I'd guess."
    "You're not concerned?"
    "For some reason, less than I should be -- but that's true of us all."
    These agreeably expressed remarks cautioned Laing. Listening to the animated
    conversations around him, he was struck by the full extent of the antagonisms
    being expressed, the hostility directed at people who lived in other sections
    of the high-rise. The malicious humour, the eagerness to believe any piece of
    gossip and any tall story about the shiftlessness of the lower-
    floor tenants, or the arrogance of the upper-floor, had all the intensity of
    racial prejudice.

    But as Talbot had pointed out, Laing found himself unworried by all this. He
    even took a certain crude pleasure in joining in the gossip, and in watching
    the usually circumspect
    Charlotte Melville put down several more than two drinks too many. At least it was a
    means by which they could reach each other.

    However, as the party broke up a small but unpleasant episode took place
    outside the elevator doors in the 27th-floor lobby. Although it was after ten
    o'clock, the entire building was alive with noise. Residents were barging in
    and out of each other's apartments, shouting down the staircases like children
    refusing to go to bed. Confused by the endless button-punching, the elevators
    had come to a halt, and gangs of impatient passengers packed the lobbies.
    Although their next destination, a party given by a lexicographer on the 26th
    floor, was only one storey below them, everyone leaving Talbot's party was
    determined not to use the stairs. Even Charlotte, face flushed and tottering
    happily on Laing's arm, joined in the wild surge across the elevator lobby and
    drummed on the doors with her strong fists.

    When at last an elevator arrived, the doors opened to reveal a solitary
    passenger, a thin-shouldered and neurasthenic young masseuse who lived
    with her mother on the 5th floor.
    Laing immediately recognized her as one of the "vagrants", of whom
    there were many in the high-rise, bored apartment-bound housewives and
    stay-at-home adult daughters who spent a large part of their time riding the
    elevators and wandering the long corridors of the vast building, migrating
    endlessly in search of change or excitement.
    Alarmed by the drunken crowd reeling towards her, the young woman snapped out
    of her reverie and pressed a button at random. A derisory hoot went up from
    the swaying guests. Within seconds she was pulled from the elevator and put
    through a mock-playful grilling. A statistician's over-excited wife shouted at
    the hapless girl in a shrill voice, pushed a strong arm through the front rank
    of interrogators and slapped her face.
    Pulling himself away from Charlotte, Laing stepped forward. The crowd's mood
    was unpleasant but difficult to take seriously. His neighbours were like a
    group of unrehearsed extras playing a lynch scene.
    "Come on -- I'll see you to the stairs." Holding the young woman by her thin
    shoulders, he tried to steer her towards the door, but there was a chorus of
    sceptical shouts. The women among the guests pushed aside their husbands and
    began to punch the girl on the arms and chest.
    Giving up, Laing stood to one side. He watched as the shocked young woman
    stumbled into the mouth of this eager gauntlet and was pummelled through a
    circuit of fists before she was allowed to disappear into the stairwell. His
    reflex of chivalry and good sense had been no match for this posse of
    middle-aged avenging angels. Uneasily, he thought: careful, Laing, or some
    stockbroker's wife will un-man you as expertly as she de-stones a pair of
    avocados.
    The night passed noisily, with constant movement through the corridors, the
    sounds of shouts and breaking glass in the elevator shafts, the blare of music
    falling across the dark air.

    3/Death of a Resident

    A cloudless sky, as dull as the air over a cold vat, lay across the concrete
    walls and embankments of the development project. At dawn, after a confused
    night, Laing went out on to his balcony and looked down at the silent
    parking-lots below. Half a mile to the south, the river continued on its usual
    course from the city, but Laing searched the surrounding landscape, expecting
    it to have changed in some radical way. Wrapped in his bath-robe, he massaged
    his bruised shoulders. Although he had failed to realize it at the time, there
    had been a remarkable amount of physical violence during the parties. He
    touched the tender skin, prodding the musculature as if searching for another
    self, the physiologist who had taken a quiet studio in this expensive
    apartment building six months earlier. Everything had started to get out of hand.

    Disturbed by the continuous noise, he had slept for little more than an hour.
    Although the high- rise was silent, the last of the hundred or so separate parties held in the building had ended only five minutes beforehand.
    Far below him, the cars in the front ranks of the parking-lot were spattered
    with broken eggs, wine and melted ice-cream. A dozen windscreens had been
    knocked out by falling bottles. Even at this early hour, at least twenty of
    Laing's fellow residents were standing on their balconies, gazing down at the
    debris gathering at the cliff-foot.
    Unsettled, Laing prepared breakfast, absent-mindedly pouring away most of the coffee he had percolated before he tasted it. With an effort he reminded himself that he was due to demonstrate in the physiology department that morning. Already his attention was fixed on the events taking place within the high-rise, as if this huge building existed solely in his mind and would vanish if he stopped thinking about it. Staring at himself in the kitchen mirror, at his wine-stained hands and unshaven face with its surprisingly good colour, he tried to switch himself on. For once, Laing, he told himself, fight your way out of your own head. The disturbing image of the posse of middle-aged women beating up the young masseuse anchored everything around him to a different plane of reality. His own reaction -- the prompt side-step out of their way -- summed up more than he realized about the progress of events.

    At eight o'clock Laing set off for the medical school. The elevator was filled
    with broken glass and beer cans. Part of the control panel had been damaged in
    an obvious attempt to prevent the lower floors signalling the car. As he
    walked across the parking-lot Laing looked back at the high-rise, aware that
    he was leaving part of his mind behind him. When he reached the medical school
    he walked through the empty corridors of the building, with an effort
    re-establishing the identity of the offices and lecture theatres. He let
    himself into the dissecting rooms of the anatomy department and walked down
    the lines of glass-topped tables, staring at the partially dissected cadavers.
    The steady amputation of limbs and thorax, head and abdomen by teams of
    students, which would reduce each cadaver by term's end to a clutch of bones
    and a burial tag, exactly matched the erosion of the world around the
    high-rise.

    During the day, as Laing took his supervision and lunched with his colleagues
    in the refectory, he thought continually about the apartment building, a
    Pandora's box whose thousand lids were one by one inwardly opening. The
    dominant tenants of the high-rise, Laing reflected, those who had adapted most
    successfully to life there, were not the unruly airline pilots and film
    technicians from the lower floors, nor the bad-tempered and aggressive wives
    of the well-to-do tax specialists on the upper levels. Although at first sight
    these people appeared to provoke all the tension and hostility, those really
    responsible were the quiet and self-contained residents, like the dental
    surgeon Steele and his wife. A new social type was being created by the
    apartment building, a cool, unemotional personality impervious to the
    psychological pressures of high-rise life, with minimal needs for privacy, who
    thrived like an advanced species of machine in the neutral atmosphere. This
    was the sort of resident who was content to do nothing but sit in his
    over-priced apartment, watch television with the sound turned down, and wait
    for his neighbours to make a mistake.

    Perhaps the recent incidents represented a last attempt by Wilder and the
    airline pilots to rebel against this unfolding logic? Sadly, they had little
    chance of success, precisely because their opponents were people who were content
    with their lives in the high-rise, who felt no particular objection to an
    impersonal steel and concrete landscape, no qualms about the invasion of their
    privacy by government agencies and data-processing organizations, and if
    anything welcomed these invisible intrusions, using them for their own
    purposes. These people were the first to master a new kind of late
    twentieth-century life. They thrived on the rapid turnover of acquaintances,
    the lack of involvement with others, and the total self-sufficiency of lives
    which, needing nothing, were never disappointed.

    Alternatively, their real needs might emerge later. The more arid and
    affectless life became in the high-rise, the greater the possibilities it
    offered. By its very efficiency, the high-rise took over the task of
    maintaining the social structure that supported them all. For the first time
    it removed the need to repress every kind of anti-social behaviour, and left
    them free to explore any deviant or wayward impulses. It was precisely in
    these areas that the most important and most interesting aspects of their
    lives would take place. Secure within the shell of the high-rise like
    passengers on board an automatically piloted airliner, they were free to
    behave in any way they wished, explore the darkest corners they could find. In
    many ways, the high-rise was a model of all that technology had done to make
    possible the expression of a truly "free" psychopathology.…
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
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    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Fri Mar 30, 2012 1:21 pm

    14For they are the spirits of devils, working miracles, which go forth unto the kings of the earth and of the whole world, to gather them to the battle of that great day of God Almighty.

    Of course, things can be done to alter potential, and thus probability, towards reducing certain outcomes. Sometimes this is cheating, such as in pool when the table itself may be tilted a certain way in a slight degree to favor one side or end over the other. In this way, the potential for the ball to 'naturally' roll into the affected areas is controlled, and so, practically, is the probability, and thus even the outcome is constrained. This, by the way, is exactly how the small number of nasty bastard reds and blues control the rest of humanity, by tilting the environment over time. By cheating.trickery, and illusion, and hidden table rigging.

    [youtube][/youtube]

    )"what's going on inside your mind…..auntie. Romanov asks…')

    Today, on the global Global Geopolitical Chessboard, Russia (and China) play so fundamental a role that, were it not for them, planet Earth would have already succumbed to the worst Orwellian-like Monster Regime run by private corporate-banking elites wielding mass psychological warfare against us all, hammering into our brains “War is Peace” and “Big Brother is watching you!” And it seems to be not a bad message, which says…In the East the wealth is controlled by the Chinese Elders (and their Communist and Taiwanese counterparts), watching this vid.

    Politics are never a black or white, good-guy-versus-bad-guy affair (sorry, Hollywood… sorry, White House…)In addition, just as the fundamental rationale of Economics ­ its bottom line or acid test, so to speak ­ lies in distinguishing between “profitable” and “not profitable” (and that is what will drive a final decision in the economic sphere); and just as the fundamental rationale of Morals lies in distinguishing between absolute Good and absolute Bad (which Ethics then picks up as Correct and Incorrect) Citizens of South America, are friends and allies of Russia. Both continents having common interests in everything, foremost they share a common Enemy (or should I say, hostis?): the Global Power Masters embedded deep inside the US, UK and EU. Eerie Transdimensional Portrait [size=9]Knights Templars' cross insignia is on her chest (reflected, so twice) and is the dominant image on her crown. Notice anything else? What does the reflected garter-type ribbon form? A giant V which stands for the number six and has many other inferences, from alien control to freemasonry . An overall portrayal of abject opulence and the arrogance…and by the way, charged……Britain’s financial regulator has fined the British queen’s bank for money laundering failures as a French presidential candidate has said part of the queen’s fortune “comes from drug trafficking. ”The Financial Services Authority (FSA) has fined the British queen’s bank, Coutts Bank, 8.75 million pounds for failing to carry out correct checks on “politically exposed persons” and prevent money laundering.“The failings at Coutts were serious, systemic and were allowed to persist for almost three years.

    The US, UK, France and Israel start getting really nervous and drag their feet in carrying out their threats. Actually, they are forced to resort to more and more clandestine and criminal operations which serve to unmask the fact that those countries are basically run by mafias. Economies, banks, finance, foreign policies, military, media fully controlled by those Global Power Masters through executives State Department/Pentagon or Foreign Office/NATO aggressions, attacks and invasions. uk-queen e-Liz is the female maNipull ater of this nefarious breed (hiding behind naive and 'beautiful and o so lovingly looking relatives) / german pope razZ is the male and last 'official' representative of those ugly reptilian warping warpigs from pre-universal 'times' on earth


    > all of them are related and their power is our blindness….:


    back in the highRise... During the long afternoon Laing slept in his office, waiting until he could leave the medical school and return home. When he left at last he drove at speed past the half-completed television studios, and then was held up for five minutes by a line of bulk-cement carriers entering the construction site. It was here that Anthony Royal had been injured when his car had been crushed by a reversing grader -- it often struck Laing as ironic, and in a way typical of Royal's ambiguous personality, that he should not only have become the project's first road casualty, but have helped to design the site of the accident. Annoyed by the delay, Laing fretted at the wheel. For some reason he was convinced that important events were taking place in his absence. Sure enough, when he reached the apartment building at six o'clock he learned that a number of fresh incidents had occurred. After changing, he joined Charlotte Melville for drinks. She had left her advertising agency before lunch, worried about her son. "I didn't like him being on his own here -- the babysitters are so unreliable." She poured whisky into their glasses, gesturing with the decanter in an alarmed way as if about to toss it over the balcony rail.

    "Robert, what_is_ happening ? Everything seems to be in a state of crisis - - I'm frightened to step into an elevator by myself." "Charlotte, things aren't that bad," Laing heard himself say. "There's nothing to worry about." Did he really believe that life here was running smoothly? Laing listened to his own voice, and noticed how convincing he sounded. The catalogue of disorder and provocation was a long one, even for a single afternoon. Two successive groups of children from the lower floors had been turned away from the recreation garden on the roof. This walled enclosure fitted with swings, roundabouts and play-sculptures had been specifically intended by Anthony Royal for the amusement of the residents' children. The gates of the garden had now been padlocked, and any children approaching the roof were ordered away. Meanwhile, the wives of several top-floor tenants claimed that they had been abused in the elevators. Other residents, as they left for their offices that morning, had found that their car tyres had been slashed. Vandals had broken into the classrooms of the junior school on the 10th floor and torn down the children's posters. The lobbies of the five lower floors had been mysteriously fouled by dog excrement; the residents had promptly scooped this into an express elevator and delivered it back to the top floor.

    [youtube][/youtube]When Laing laughed at this Charlotte drummed her fingers on his arm, as if trying to wake him up. "Robert! You ought to take all this seriously!" "I do . . ." "You're in a _trance_!" Laing looked down at her, suddenly aware that this intelligent and likeable woman was failing to get the point. He placed an arm around her, unsurprised by the fierce way in which she embraced him. Ignoring her small son trying to open the kitchen door, she leaned against it and pulled Laing on to herself, kneading his arms as if trying to convince herself that here at last was something whose shape she could influence. During the hour they waited for her son to fall asleep her hands never left Laing. But even before they sat down together on her bed Laing knew that, almost as an illustration of the paradoxical logic of the high-rise, their relationship would end rather than begin with this first sexual act. In a real sense this would separate them from each other rather than bring them together. By the same paradox, the affection and concern he felt for her as they lay across her small bed seemed callous rather than tender, precisely because these emotions were unconnected with the realities of the world around them. The tokens that they should exchange, which would mark their real care for each other, were made of far more uncertain materials, the erotic and perverse. When she was asleep in the early evening light, Laing let himself out of the apartment and went in search of his new friends. Outside, in the corridors and elevator lobbies, scores of people were standing about. In no hurry to return to his apartment, Laing moved from one group to another, listening to the talk going on. These informal meetings were soon to have an almost official status, forums at which the residents could air their problems and prejudices. Most of their grievances, Laing noticed, were now directed at the other tenants rather than at the building. The failure of the elevators was blamed on people from the upper and lower floors, not on the architects or the inefficient services designed into the block. The garbage-disposal chute Laing shared with the Steeles had jammed again. He tried to telephone the building manager, but the exhausted man had been inundated with complaints and requests for action of every kind. Several members of his staff had resigned and the energies of the remainder were now devoted to keeping the elevators running and trying to restore power to the 9th floor. Laing mustered what tools he could find and went into the corridor to free the chute himself. Steele immediately came to his aid, bringing with him a complex multi-bladed cutting device. While the two men worked away, trying to loosen a bundle of brocaded curtain that supported a column of trapped kitchen refuse, Steele amiably regaled Laing with a description of those tenants above and below them responsible for overloading the disposal system. "Some of these people generate the most unusual garbage -- certainly the kind of thing we didn't expect to find here," he confided to Laing. "Objects that could well be of interest to the vice squad. That beautician on the 33rd floor, and the two so-called radiographers living together on the 22nd. Strange young women, even for these days . . ." To some extent, Laing found himself agreeing. However petty the complaints might sound, the fifty-year-old owner of the hairdressing salon _was_ endlessly redecorating her apartment on the 33rd floor, and _did_ stuff old rugs and even intact pieces of small furniture into the chute. Steele stood back as the column of garbage sank below in a greasy avalanche. He held Laing's arm, steering him around a beer can lying on the corridor floor.

    "Still, no doubt we're all equally guilty -- I hear that on the lower floors people are leaving small parcels of garbage outside their apartment doors. Now, you'll come in for a drink? My wife is keen to see you again." Despite his memories of their quarrel, Laing had no qualms about accepting. As he expected, in the larger climate of confrontation any unease between them was soon forgotten. Her hair immaculately coiffeured, Mrs Steele hovered about him with the delighted smile of a novice madam entertaining her first client. She even complimented Laing on his choice of music, which she could hear through the poorly insulated walls. Laing listened to her spirited description of the continuous breakdown of services within the building, the vandalizing of an elevator and the changing cubicles of the 10th-floor swimming-pool. She referred to the high-rise as if it were some kind of huge animate presence, brooding over them and keeping a magisterial eye on the events taking place. There was something in this feeling -- the elevators pumping up and down the long shafts resembled pistons in the chamber of a heart. The residents moving along the corridors were the cells in a network of arteries, the lights in their apartments the neurones of a brain.

    Laing looked out across the darkness at the brilliantly lit decks of the nearby high-rise, barely aware of the other guests who had arrived and were sitting in the chairs around him -- the television newsreader Paul Crosland, and a film critic named Eleanor Powell, a hard-drinking redhead whom Laing often found riding the elevators up and down in a fuddled attempt to find her way out of the building. Crosland had become the nominal leader of their clan -- a local cluster of some thirty contiguous apartments on the 25th, 26th and 27th floors. Together they were planning a joint shopping expedition to the 10th-floor supermarket the following day, like a band of villagers going on an outing to an unpoliced city. Beside him on the sofa, Eleanor Powell was watching Crosland in a glazed way while the newsreader, in his florid announcer's style, outlined his proposals for the security of their apartments. Now and then she reached forward with one hand, as if trying to adjust Crosland's image, perhaps alter the colour values of his fleshy cheeks or turn down the volume of his voice. "Isn't your apartment next to the elevator lobby?" Laing asked her. "You'll need to barricade yourself in." "What on earth for? I leave the door wide open." When Laing looked puzzled, she said, "Isn't that part of the fun ?" "You think that we're secretly enjoying all this?" "Don't you ? I'd guess so, doctor. Togetherness is beating up an empty elevator. For the first time since we were three years old what we do makes absolutely no difference. When you think about it, that's really rather interesting . . ." When she leaned against him, resting her head on -his shoulder, Laing said: "Something seems to be wrong with the air-conditioning . . . there should be some fresh air on the balcony." (march 25…no venus between juppi and (artificial) moon: where is she…..?)

    Holding his arm, she picked up her bag. "All right. Lift me up. You're a shy lecher, doctor . . ." They had reached the french windows when there was an explosion of breaking glass from a balcony high above them. Fragments of glass flicked away like knives through the night air. A large, ungainly object whirled past, no more than twenty feet from the balcony. Startled, Eleanor blundered into Laing. As they caught their balance there was the sound of a harsh metallic collision from the ground below,almost as if a car had crashed. A short but unbroken silence followed, the first true quiet, Laing realized, that the building had known for days. Everyone crowded on to the balcony, Crosland and Steele grappling together as if each was trying to prevent the other from jumping over the ledge. Pushed along the railing, Laing saw his own empty balcony fifteen feet away. In an absurd moment of panic he wondered if he himself was the victim. All around, people were leaning on their railings, glasses in hand, staring down through the darkness. Far below, embedded in the crushed roof of a car in the front rank, was the body of a man in evening dress. Eleanor Powell, her face like pain, swayed from the rail and pushed her way past Crosland.

    Laing held tightly to the metal bar, shocked and excited at the same time. Almost every balcony on the huge face of the high-rise was now occupied,the residents gazing down as if from their boxes in an enormous outdoor opera house. No one approached the crushed car, or the body embedded in its roof. Seeing the burst tuxedo and the small patent-leather shoes, Laing thought that he recognized the dead man as the jeweller from the 40th floor. His pebble spectacles lay on the ground by the front wheel of the car, their intact lenses reflecting the brilliant lights of the apartment building.

    4/Up! During the week after the jeweller's death, events moved rapidly in a more disquieting direction. Richard Wilder, twenty-four floors below Dr Laing and for that reason far more exposed to the pressures generated within the building, was among the first to realize the full extent of the changes taking place. Wilder had been away on location for three days, shooting scenes for a new documentary on prison unrest. A strike by the inmates at a large provincial prison, widely covered by the newspapers and television, had given him a chance to inject some directly topical footage into the documentary. He returned home in the early afternoon. He had telephoned Helen each evening from his hotel and questioned her carefully about conditions in the high-rise, but she made no particular complaints. Nevertheless, her vague tone concerned him. When he had parked Wilder kicked open the door and lifted his heavy body from behind the steering wheel. From his place on the perimeter of the parking-lot he carefully scanned the face of the huge building. At first glance everything had settled down. The hundreds of cars were parked in orderly lines. The tiers of balconies rose through the clear sunlight, potted plants thriving behind the railings. For a moment Wilder felt a pang of regret -- always a believer in direct action, he had enjoyed the skirmishes of the past week, roughing up his aggressive neighbours, particularly those residents from the top floors who had made life difficult for Helen and the two boys.The one discordant note was provided by the fractured picture window on the 40th floor, through which the unfortunate jeweller had made his exit. At either end of the floor were two penthouse apartments, the north corner occupied by Anthony Royal, the other by the jeweller and his wife. The broken pane had not been replaced, and the asterisk of cracked glass reminded Wilder of some kind of cryptic notation, a transfer on the fuselage of a wartime aircraft marking a kill. Wilder unloaded his suitcase from the car, and a holdall containing presents for Helen and his sons. On the rear seat was a lightweight cine-camera with which he planned to shoot a few hundred feet of pilot footage for his documentary on the high-rise. The unexplained death of the jeweller had confirmed his long-standing conviction that an important documentary was waiting to be made about life in the high-rise -- perhaps taking the jeweller's death as its starting point. 렠 in lake'ch kin143
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    cosmicnight13

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    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Tue Apr 03, 2012 3:00 pm

    [youtube][/youtube]

    Psssst.....! Quick! I am she who exists in all fears.

    
And I am strength in trembling.
 

    I am compassionate,

    
And I am cruel.

    
I am war,

    
And I am peace 
I am the power of the gods in their seasons,
 
And spirits of every man who exists with me,
 

    And of women who dwell within me.
 
I am the one whom you have hidden from.
 
I am the one who hides myself from you.
 
Come forward to me,

    Come forward to childhood...


    …in the hoOod.


    Using Fear

    To relate to ourselves, to others, or to the world, we need to be aware.

    The first step in starting to relate properly is to cultivate the habit of being fully alert to everything around you, as well as inside of you. Being alert is not only a prerequisite for being aware of another's state of being, but it is also vital for cultivating a fluidity in our perception. In other words, it will not help you to go through life fixated upon only your own point of view. Instead you need to develop an openness to all points of view, but without doubting your own knowledge when you do so. You will soon find as many different points of view as there are people in the world. This should hardly be surprising considering that each individual is unique in his or her approach to life. But the real beauty in all of this is that each person's point of view is like one facet of a diamond. Therefore you have one facet, I have another, and yet others have completely different facets, but when we put all of those facets together, what a brilliance of light is reflected by that diamond. What a magnificent intelligence is displayed when many minds join forces in one endeavour, instead of competing against each other in the sense of "I'm right and therefore you must be wrong." To develop this kind of approach to life is a benefit of being aware.



    God's omnipresence (with reference to Jer. xxiii. 24) is illustrated by two mirrors, the one convex, the other concave, magnifying and contracting respectively the image of the beholder (Gen. R. iv.).
    YHVH contains 2 'windows' (Windows work two ways, mirrors one way.)

    You never walk through mirrors or swim through windows."-

    people are oblivious to the existence of mirrors, for the simple reason that they generally speaking only like nice mirrors, mirrors that show only the pretty side. "J Morrison

    (I touched her thigh & death smiled)

    look her ufo-cap lol

    And the White Queen said “Can you do addition? What’s one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?” Poor Alice didn’t know, she’d lost count. She can’t do addition.

    “Can you do subtraction? Take nine from eight.” “Nine from eight I can’t you know, but” “She can’t do subtraction.” “Can you do division? Divide a loaf by a knife.” What’s the answer to that? Bread and butter of course was the answer.
    But anyway the Queens ( not the tmq!!!) decided, came to the conclusion that Alice could not do sums at all.
    "


    Looking for fURther ‘known unknowns’ that would surprise me, i recollect 13 is also the number of
    the Death Trump in Tarot

    This card corresponds to the Hebrew letter Nun (bottom left of the card), which means Fish.

    It may also attribute to. JEWEL of awareness 13

    REMEMBER: the price for true power ( Power inherent within each of the 21 aspects of awareness) is one's life.

    Juwel 13 'Death of the old' guarantees a total transformation of the island of the tonal.
    Hidden within (for those who can add) is jewel 4 stability (self-exiting). By embracing both polarities of life upon the physical plane equally, that is , the rising sun 'life, and the setting sun 'death', a warrior achieves true stability (4) by bringing about death of the old or death of all that hinders her progress along the path of freedom and this he does with both mind and feeling / sobriety and heart.

    We must take charge of our lives, and do so as all that is familiar is disintegrating about us.
    Are you on top of what is happening?
    Forget about wondering about “crystalline bodies” and concentrate on the ones that you have.

    100 years is the reformation process. on a planet not of your choice !

    No final solutions to the wrongs of this world. Instead, look to yourselves, for indeed you are either the solution or the handicap. No one will awaken on the cusp of 2012 to a "new world" . …full of "happy, happy, joy, joy.
    "One of the events now taking place here is about the old tried and true method the riders have of “diversion and conquer.” This is but another devious example of history repeating itself. The riders have used this technique quite successfully for as long as they have been on this planet.Do not expect that you shall awaken the other day of that year and see the Earth as a parallel Nirvana,
    It has become more simplified for them now because they have this vast field of greedy and
    willing human counterparts to assist them
    .

    Spiritual Planetizens are USUALLY better able to tell
    when diversions are cast in front of them. This has proven to be quite literally a Godsend when these types of people here immediately KNOW to maintain their clarity. They are watchful when any change of focus on something suddenly alters into something else that simply is not in anyone’s best interests. However, this chronological year of 2012 which is simply the forerunner for the next 100 years of great change, has caused many people of all races to be brainwashed into believing the unbelievable. It is not always as easy for them to see through these illusions as it once was. I ask you all to imagine for a moment that you are standing outside in the middle of a monsoon. For those of you who have never witnessed the monsoonal times, think of it as the absolute heaviest rainstorm you can possibly imagine. The rain is so heavy and is so uncompromising that it is hard for you to catch your breath. Because of the steadfast conditions you are in the midst of, it is very difficult for you to see and ultimately you find yourself feeling quite miserable.

    This is what is happening here all over the planet. But it is not monsoonal conditions that are affecting you. At least… not yet. What I have asked you to visualize is actually occurring in the forms of millions of dark energy streamers swarming all over Terra. It is all hell let loose! These streamers are of the greatest proportions of malefic energies ever to inundate the Earth Star planet. They are also part of diversionary tactics. Their intent is to pummel the clarity and determination of the minds and Souls of Spiritual people while further decimating and befouling the minds, attitudes and desires of mainstream people of all races. This causes these types of people, the mainstream ones, to fall more deeply into their already finely honed desires to follow the trail of the illusions set forth by the Illuminati.
    Planetizens take heed: all of you must stop wallowing in “what could have been” and accept the fact that humanity has been severely compromised. More so now than at any other time. Stop expecting others to suddenly wakeup and smell the stench that the riders always leave in their wake. Stop wailing and groaning and feeling as though you could do more on your part to open the eyes of the unilluminated!
    A four-metre high bronze statue to be erected in the middle of Brazil's Amazon rainforest depicting p.charles as "saviour"

    By embracing both life and death equally woMan unites the faculty of mind and heart to bring about a stability acquired through the death of the old

    Theun Mares - This Darned Elusive Happiness


    Chiron rules Virgo
    Your destiny arrives in March. How shall you greet it? By hiding in fear holes,
    or by manifesting new potential, probability and outcome?
    The choice is, always, yours.

    MARCH 22 - ARIES NEW MOON 7:38 AM PDT (2:38 PM GMT) . new adventure?

    The same energy can make one person angry and feel like a victim and empower another to create a work of art. Releasing anger and rage, dissolve antagonism, and give up passive aggressive tendencies by taking responsibility for our life and taking action for ourselves. All physical exercises activating spinal awareness. Our job now is to pay attention to the sensations in our spine. …connection between your navel and third eye, include the base of your spine and your heart. …his awareness may automatically happen.

    MARCH 12 - MERCURY GOES RETROGRADE until APRIL 4 for 23 days in Aries and Pisces.
    MERCURY AND URANUS conjuncting within 4 degrees for these 3 weeks.


    '-What is connection?
    -When 2 motions, thought to be infinite & mutually exclusive, meet in a moment.-Of Time?
    -Yes. -Time does not exist. There is no time.-Time is a straight plantation'
    -James Douglas Morrison








    4 C: Every number is infinite;

    there is no difference

    M: We need great golden copulations


    2 C: The unveiling of the company of Heaven






    M: Do you know the warm progress


    under the stars?


    Do you know we exist?


    Have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom?


    Have you been born yet


    & are you alive?



    That beaming-floating-purring kind of feeling?




    "The Aeon of Horus ixs here: and its first flower may well be this: that, freed of the obsession of the doom of the Ego in Death, and of the limitation of the Mind by Reason, the best men again set out with eager eyes upon the Path of the Wise, the mountain track of the goat, and then the untrodden Ridge, that leads to the ice-gleaming pinnacles of Mas……..low? remaining in this central place and turning aside from intolerance and hate is the work of the shift that the whole planet is experiencing right now. translates all negative emotions ALL no matter how much they're triggered - and the atmosphere is explosive - as all here are speaking from this fake selfimage eXactly where iT iS that we are heaven/hell -not heaven OR hell any precepts to get out? ........ .......instead of looping what it is..... anybody an idea? which not ends in endless 'thinking' about what that may mean -to the author -to the adressant

    .....all negative emotions ALL no matter how much they're triggered

    are to be erased
    - and the .. imminent effect can be mitigated in favor of a collective experience and remembrance of the lower vibrations that have been manifested that would and will cause such Earth changes whether they are massive in damage or not…..
    now, how to erase such stuff when it is so intrinsically part of our make up....that's the question darlings here nomatter which couleur,, hidden or unhidden ,, ready to reclaim their power , or not...?
    .
    .. .
    about outside oriented

    ---------
    ....focussing inwards when odds are met
    in front of a good meditator no mountains crumble they move / and he won't be desturbed so easily as he not hides behind others for he has the courage to stand orhimself, while an 'it' will alwas be the playing ball of it's surrounding

    fate is karma, ongoing
    masks veils imperfections illusion of purification enforces its desire to look better as it is


    That oh-so-rare-please-don't-let-me-be-dreaming kind of feeling?
    ……standing in sharp contrast to the denser becoming atmosphere in the
    Highrise….as a jeweller came floating from the 47 floor...…



    it was a lucky coincidence that he lived in the same block as the dead man --
    the programme would have all the impact of a personal biography. When the
    police investigation ended the case would move on to the courts, and a huge
    question mark of notoriety would remain immovably in place over what he liked
    to term this high-priced tenement, this hanging palace self-seeding its
    intrigues and destruction.
    Carrying the luggage in his strong arms, Wilder set off on the long walk back
    to the apartment building. His own apartment was directly above the proscenium
    of the main entrance. He waited for Helen to emerge on to the balcony and wave
    him in, one of the few compensations for having to leave his car at the edge
    of the parking-lot. However, all but one of the blinds were still drawn.
    Quickening his step, Wilder approached the inner lines of parked cars.
    Abruptly, the illusion of normalcy began to give way. The cars in the front
    three ranks were spattered with debris, their once-bright bodywork streaked
    and stained. The pathways around the building were littered with bottles,
    cans, and broken glass, heaped about as if they were being continuously shed
    from the balconies.
    In the main entrance Wilder found that two of the elevators were out of order.
    The lobby was deserted and silent, as if the entire high-rise had been
    abandoned. The manager's office was closed, and unsorted mail lay on the tiled
    floor by the glass doors. On the wall facing the line of elevators was
    scrawled a partly obliterated message -- the first of a series of slogans and
    private signals that would one day cover every exposed surface in the
    building. Fittingly enough, these graffiti reflected the intelligence and
    education of the tenants. Despite their wit and imagination, these complex
    acrostics, palindromes and civilized obscenities aerosolled across the walls
    soon turned into a colourful but indecipherable mess, not unlike the cheap
    wallpapers found in launderettes and travel-agencies which the residents of
    the high-rise most affected to despise.
    Wilder waited impatiently by the elevators, his temper mounting. Irritably he
    punched the call buttons, but none of the cars showed any inclination to
    respond to him. All of them were permanently suspended between the 20th and
    30th floors, between which they made short journeys.
    Picking up his bags, Wilder headed for the staircase. When he reached the 2nd
    floor he found the corridor in darkness, and tripped over a plastic sack stuffed
    with garbage that blocked his front door.
    As he let himself into the hall his first impression was that Helen had left
    the apartment and taken the two boys away with her. The blinds in the
    living-room were lowered, and the air-conditioning had been switched off. Children's toys and clothes lay about onthe floor.

    [youtube][/youtube]

    Wilder opened the door of the boys' bedroom. They lay asleep together,
    breathing unevenly in the stale air. The remains of a meal left from the
    previous day were on a tray between the beds.
    Wilder crossed the living-room to his own bedroom. One blind had been raised,
    and the daylight crossed the white walls in an undisturbed bar. Uncannily, it
    reminded Wilder of a cell he had filmed two days earlier in the psychiatric
    wing of the prison. Helen lay fully dressed on the neatly made bed. He assumed
    that she was asleep, but as he crossed the room, trying to quieten his heavy
    tread, her eyes watched him without expression.
    "Richard . . . it's all right." She spoke calmly. "I've been awake -- since
    you rang yesterday, in fact. Was it a good trip?"
    She started to get up but Wilder held her head on the pillow.
    "The boys -- what's going on here?"
    "Nothing." She touched his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "They wanted
    to sleep, so
    I let them. There isn't anything else for them to do. It's too noisy at night.
    I'm sorry the place is in such a mess."
    "Never mind the place. Why aren't the boys at school?"
    "It's closed -- they haven't been since you left."

    "Why not?" Irritated by his wife's passivity, Wilder began to knead his heavy
    hands together. "Helen, you can't lie here like this all day. What about the
    roof garden? Or the swimming-pool?"
    "I think they only exist inside my head. It's too difficult . . ." She pointed
    to the cine-camera on the floor between Wilder's feet. "What's that for?"
    "I may shoot some footage -- for the high-rise project."
    "Another prison documentary." Helen smiled at Wilder without any show of
    humour. "I can tell you where to start."
    Wilder took her face in his hands. He felt the slim bones, as if making sure
    that this tenuous armature still existed. Somehow he would raise her spirits.
    Seven years earlier, when he had met her while working for one of the
    commercial television companies, she had been a bright and self-confident
    producer's assistant, more than a match for Wilder with her quick tongue. The
    time not spent in bed together they had spent arguing. Now, after the
    combination of the two boys and a year in the high-rise, she was withdrawing
    into herself, obsessively wrapped up with the children's most elementary
    activities. Even her reviewing of children's books was part of the same
    retreat. http://www.20min.ch/diashow/33599/04253655-6f9d54acf3dcdd7ecccf49108add44a3.jpg Wilder brought her a glass of the sweet liqueur she liked. Trying to decide
    what best to do, he rubbed the muscles of his chest. What had at first pleased
    Wilder, but now disturbed him most of all, was that she no longer noticed his
    affairs with the bachelor women in the high-rise.
    Even if she saw her husband talking to one of them Helen would approach,
    tugging the boys after her, as if no longer concerned with what his wayward
    sex might be up to. Several of these young women, like the television actress
    whose Afghan he had drowned in the pool during the blackout, or the continuity
    girl on the floor above them, had become Helen's friends. The latter, a serious-minded girl who read Byron in the supermarket queues, worked for an independent producer of pornographic films, or so Helen informed himatter-of-factly. "She has to note the precise sexual position between takes.
    An interesting job -- I wonder what the qualifications are, or the life expectancy?"

    Wilder had been shocked by this. Vaguely prudish, he had never been able to
    question the continuity girl. When they made love in her 3rd-floor apartment
    he had the uneasy feeling that she was automatically memorizing every embrace
    and copulatory posture in case he was suddenly called away, and might take off
    again from exactly the same point with another boy-friend. The limitless
    professional expertise of the high-rise had its unsettling aspects.
    Wilder watched his wife sip the liqueur. He stroked her small thighs in an
    attempt to revive her. "Helen, come on -- you look as if you're waiting for
    the end. We'll straighten everything and take the boys up to the swimming-pool."

    Helen shook her head. "There's too much hostility. It's always been there, but
    now it stands out. People pick on the children -- without realizing it, I
    sometimes think." She sat on the edge of the bed while Wilder changed, staring
    through the window at the line of high-rises receding across the sky. "In
    fact, it's not really the other residents. It's the building . . ."
    "I know. But once the police investigation is over you'll find that everything
    will quieten down. For one thing, there'll be an overpowering sense of guilt."

    f...

    "What are they investigating?"
    "The death, of course. Of our high-diving jeweller." Picking up the
    cine-camera, Wilder took off the lens shroud. "Have you spoken to the police?"
    "I don't know. I've been avoiding everyone." Brightening herself by an effort
    of will, she went over to Wilder. "Richard -- have you ever thought of selling
    the apartment? We could actually leave. I'm serious."

    "Helen . . ." Nonplussed for a moment, Wilder stared down at the small,
    determined figure of his wife. He took off his trousers, as if exposing his
    thick chest and heavy loins in some way reasserted his authority over himself.
    "That's equivalent to being driven out. Anyway, we'd never get back what wepaid for the apartment."
    He waited until Helen lowered her head and turned away to the bed. At her
    insistence, six months earlier, they had already moved from their first
    apartment on the ground floor. At the time they had seriously discussed
    leaving the high-rise altogether, but Wilder had persuaded Helen to stay on,
    for reasons he had never fully understood. Above all, he would not admit his
    failure to deal on equal terms with his professional neighbours, to outstare these self-satisfied cost-accountants and marketing managers.
    As his sons wandered sleepily into the room Helen remarked, "Perhaps we could
    move to a higher floor."


    Shaving his chin, Wilder pondered this last comment of his wife's. The frail
    plea had a particular significance, as if some long-standing ambition had been
    tapped inside his head. Helen, of course, was thinking in terms of social
    advancement, of moving in effect to a "better neighbourhood", away from this
    lower-class suburb to those smarter residential districts somewhere between
    the I5th and 30th floors, where the corridors were clean and the children
    would not have to play in the streets, where tolerance and sophistication
    civilized the air.
    Wilder had something different in mind. As he listened to Helen's quiet voice,
    murmuring to her two sons as if speaking to them from inside a deep dream, he
    examined himself in the mirror. Like a prize-fighter reassuring himself before
    a match, he patted the muscles of his stomach and shoulders. In the mental as
    well as the physical sense, he was almost certainly the strongest man in the
    building, and Helen's lack of spirit annoyed him. He realized that he had no
    real means of coping with this kind of passivity. His response to it was still
    framed by his upbringing, by an over-emotional mother who loved him devotedly
    through the longest possible childhood she could arrange and thereby given
    Wilder what he always thought of as his unshakeable self-confidence. She had
    separated from Wilder's father -- a shadowy figure of disreputable back-
    ground -- when he was a small child. The second marriage, to a pleasant but
    passive accountant and chess enthusiast, had been wholly dominated by the
    relationship between the mother and her bullock-like son. When he met his future wife Wilder naively believed that he wanted to pass on these advantages to Helen, to look after her and provide an endless flow of security and good humour. Of course, as he realized now, no one ever changed, and for all his abundant self-confidence he needed to be looked after
    just as much as ever. Once or twice, in unguarded moments during the early
    days of their marriage, he had attempted to play the childish games he had
    enjoyed with his mother. But Helen had not been able to bring herself to treat
    Wilder like her son. For her part, Wilder guessed, love and care were the last
    things she really wanted. Perhaps the breakdown of life in the high-rise would
    fulfil her unconscious expectations more than she realized.
    As he massaged his cheeks Wilder listened to the air humming erratically in


    [flash]
    [/flash]

    the air-
    conditioning flues behind the shower stall, pumped all the way down from the
    roof of the building thirty-nine floors above. He watched the water emerge
    from the tap. This too had made its long descent from the reservoirs on the
    roof, running down the immense internal wells riven through the apartment
    block, like icy streams percolating through a subterranean cavern.
    His determination to make the documentary had a strong personal bias, part of
    a calculated attempt to come to terms with the building, meet the physical
    challenge it presented to him, and then dominate it. For some time now he had
    known that he was developing a powerful phobia about the high-rise. He was
    constantly aware of the immense weight of concrete stacked above him, and the
    sense that his body was the focus of the lines of force running through the
    building, almost as if Anthony Royal had deliberately designed his body to be
    held within their grip. At night, as he lay beside his sleeping wife, he would
    often wake from an uneasy dream into the suffocating bedroom, conscious of
    each of the 999 other apartments pressing on him through the walls and
    ceiling, forcing the air from his chest. He was sure that he had drowned the
    Afghan, not because he disliked the dog particularly or wanted to upset its
    owner, but to revenge himself on the upper storeys of the building. He had
    seized the dog in the darkness when it blundered into the pool.
    Giving in to a cruel but powerful impulse, he had pulled it below the water.
    As he held its galvanized and thrashing body under the surface, in a strange
    way he had been struggling with the building itself.
    Thinking of those distant heights, Wilder took his shower, turning the cold
    tap on full and letting the icy jet roar acrosss his chest and loins. Where
    Helen had begun to falter, he felt more determined, like a climber who has at
    long last reached the foot of the mountain he has prepared all his life to
    scale.


    5/The Vertical City
    Whatever plans he might devise for his ascent, whatever route to the summit,
    it was soon obvious to Wilder that at its present rate of erosion little of
    the high-rise would be left.
    Almost everything possible was going wrong with the services. He helped Helen
    straighten the apartment, and tried to jerk some sense of
    vitality into his dormant family by drawing the blinds and moving noisily
    around the rooms.
    Wilder found it difficult to revive them. At five-minute intervals the
    air-conditioning ceased to work, and in the warm summer weather the apartment
    was heavy with stagnant air. Wilder noticed that he had already begun to
    accept the foetid atmosphere as normal. Helen told him that she had heard a
    rumour from the other residents that dog excrement had been deliberately
    dropped into the air-conditioning flues by the upper-level tenants. Strong
    winds circulated around the open plazas of the development project, buffeting
    the lower floors of the apartment building as they swirled through the
    concrete legs. Wilder opened the windows, hoping for some fresh air, but the
    apartment soon filled with dust and powdered cement. The ashy film already
    covered the tops of cupboards and bookshelves.

    By the late afternoon the residents began to return from their offices. The
    elevators were noisy and overcrowded. Three of them were now out of order, and
    the remainder were jammed with impatient tenants trying to reach their floors.
    From the open door of his apartment Wilder watched his neighbours jostle each
    other aggressively like bad-tempered miners emerging from their pit-
    cages. They strode past him, briefcases and handbags wielded like the
    instruments of an over-nervous body armour.

    On an impulse Wilder decided to test his rights of free passage around the
    building, and his access to all its services, particularly the swimming-pool
    on the 35th floor and the children's sculpture-garden on the observation roof.
    Taking his camera, he set out for the roof with the older of his two sons.
    However, he soon found that the high-speed elevators were either out of order,
    under repair, or kept permanently at the top floors with their doors jammed
    open.
    The only access to them was through the private outside entrance to which
    Wilder did not have a key.
    All the more determined now to reach the roof, Wilder waited for one of the
    intermediate elevators which would carry them as far as the 35th floor. When
    it arrived he pushed his way into the crowded cabin, surrounded by passengers
    who stared down at Wilder's six-year-old son with unfeigned hostility. At the
    23rd floor the elevator refused to move any further. The passengers scrummaged
    their way out, drumming their briefcases against the closed doors of the
    elevators in what seemed to be a ritual display of temper.

    Wilder set off up the stairs, carrying his small son in his arms. With his
    powerful physique, he was strong enough to climb all the way to the roof. Two
    floors above, however, the staircase was blocked by a group of local residents
    -- among them the offensive young orthodontic surgeon who was Robert Laing's
    neighbour -- trying to free a garbage-disposal chute. Suspicious that they
    might be tampering with the air-conditioning ducts, Wilder pushed through
    them, but was briskly shouldered aside by a man he recognized as a newsreader
    for a rival television company.

    "This staircase is closed, Wilder! Can't you get the point?"
    "What?" Wilder was amazed by this effrontery. "How do you mean?"
    "_Closed!_ What are you doing up here, anyway?"

    The two men squared up to each other. Amused by the announcer's aggressive
    manner, Wilder lifted the camera as if to film his florid face. When Crosland
    waved him away imperiously, Wilder was tempted to knock the man down. Not
    wishing to upset his son, who was nervous enough already in this harsh
    atmosphere, he retreated to the elevator and returned to the lower floors.
    The confrontation, however minor, had unsettled Wilder. Ignoring Helen, he
    prowled around the apartment, swinging the camera to and fro. He felt excited
    in a confused way, partly by his plans for the documentary, but also by the
    growing atmosphere of collision and hostility.
    From the balcony he watched the huge, Alcatraz blocks of the nearby
    high-rises. The material about these buildings, visual and sociological, was
    almost limitless. They would film the exteriors from a helicopter, and from
    the nearest block four hundred yards away -- in his mind's eye he could
    already see a long, sixty-second zoom, slowly moving from the whole building
    in frame to a close-up of a single apartment, one cell in this nightmare
    termitary.
    The first half of the programme would examine life in the high-rise in terms
    of its design errors and minor irritations, while the remainder would then
    look at the psychology of living in a community of two thousand people boxed
    up into the sky -- everything from the incidence of crime, divorce and sexual
    misdemeanours to the turnover of residents, their health, the frequency of
    insomnia and other psychosomatic disorders. All the evidence accumulated over
    several decades cast a critical light on the high-rise as a viable social
    structure, but cost-effectiveness in the area of public housing and high
    profitability in the private sector kept pushing these vertical townships into
    the sky against the real needs of their occupants.

    The psychology of high-rise life had been exposed with damning results. The
    absence of humour, for example, had always struck Wilder as the single most
    significant feature -- allresearch by investigators confirmed that the
    tenants of high-rises made no jokes about them. In a strict sense, life there
    was "eventless". On the basis of his own experience, Wilder was convinced that
    the high-rise apartment was an insufficiently flexible shell to provide the
    kind of home which encouraged activities, as distinct from somewhere to eat
    and sleep. Living in high-rises required a special type of behaviour, one that
    was acquiescent, restrained, even perhaps slightly mad. A psychotic would have
    a ball here, Wilder reflected. Vandalism had plagued these slab and tower
    blocks since their inception. Every torn-out piece of telephone equipment,
    every handle wrenched off a fire safety door, every kicked-in electricity
    meter represented a stand against de-cerebration.
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Sat Apr 07, 2012 3:28 pm

    [youtube][/youtube]

    the male ego just now is in overdrive and they are doing everything they can to dig their heels in, no matter if it's going to hurt them or anyone else in the process, they are running scared. Not just men in general but strong masculine energies are feeling it too .., a He is You-issue ….and appearing from a prolonged dry spell, when you realize that you are the prize, and you find yourself eating from age frais, until your cholersterine-mirror is up to same heights as the current b/ohm-earth-resonance - factor multiplied by plasmatic hitsfrom hunab Ku that seek to come out here

    like pure joy?…?

    Relationships are not the Universe’s way of rewarding us for a job well done. They are the waves we ride throughout our life -be it above - or sub-aquarian….They are the reward we give to ourselves in response to our willingness to stop needing love and know that we deserve the most wonderful relationship we can create. If your search for a new partner includes the hope that someone will see whatever limitations you think you have and love you anyway, you’re missing the point. You are the prize; you are the loving, wonderful blessing of love and partnership that someone has been wanting as much as you have.
    You are her. It gets kind of weird to try to track it from time to time but I am getting there.

    When well meaning imbeciles talk to me like she is some crazy lady that I should just blow off I have to tell them this is not some random crazy lady trying to make my life a nightmare, this is me in my other body. I do know that with their presence they create a internal struggle to clean up some of the trash out... and recycle .it shifted me from where I was which was a place of longing, pining, pain, grief and bereavement to something far better. It gave me the shift I needed to move forward. I'd been stuck for years.

    'For this is My desire also, that you ‘turn the self off,’ to become more responsive to My prompts.' Hone your listening skills in your nearness with Me, where you can begin to hear heaven’s music in your soul, for I am your Trainer.'

    trusting what I feel is correct and trusting that what s/he may be sending me is genuine!!!I have been working on this since the beginning of time, so no, I am not just going to find another wo/man for sexual purposes, but thanks for your helpful well reasoned input.'
    The intellectually opposing of what they/we are really feeling. It cannot be done.
    Pink Moon' in April/Red Moon Wavespell, indicating purification and flow –need to work on being Mr and Mrs Cranky Pants in both bodies.and just when we thought things were starting to work out in the physical sense and we've done all the inner work, learnt self-love and un-conditional love then...BAM...they've gone,

    With this line-up(of planets), a complete turnaround is possible – the kind of transformation that happens through the process of death and rebirth. three consecutive supermoons that coincide with the three major festivals of esoteric tradition.

    These are the Festival of the Christ (April 6), Festival of the Buddha (May 5)
    and Festival of Humanity (June 4
    ). Oh get over yourself, idiot! Full moon makes for more gravitational effects, more energy, some people can even when the little sister does not comprehend the big sister feel it.
    One equal temper of heroic hearts,
    Made weak by time and fates,
    but strong in will
    To strive, to seek,
    to find, and not to yield.”



    It is that kin do not own their own experience.
    What if you go on choosing to live, act, behave, think, feel and believe in the same way AS IT EVER WAS, carry on very, very busy – working yourselves to a near standstill – to create the you that is inevitably separating itself from each other.

    Beyond the concrete wall of positivism's self-righteousness lies an ego-stupidity frame of perception that makes 'imperceptible realities' a mere shadow of a reflection of
    the mind's beholder - beholder's mind,
    oddly enough then claimed as inner journey mystery of followers of the roman path..



    as it goes… here we are , a three-city state empire, in which the cities pay no taxes and obey their own laws.
    City of London Corporation – Financial power centre, established in 1067
    
District of Columbia – Military power centre, established in 1871

    Vatican City – Religious power centre, sovereign in 1929

    Chatham House, Bilderburg Group, Trilateral Commission, Council on Foreign Relations, Ditchley Foundation, Club of Rome, RAND Corporation, PNAC and of course Freemasonry.
    Western Europe, excluding the German Empire, was united by the House of Guelph in 1815. The German Empire was conquered in 1918 along with the Russian Empire and the Ottoman Empire following World War I. The thousand year war between the Guelph’s and Ghibelline’s finally concluded with the Axis defeat in WWII, and the introduction of nuclear weapons, since then the world has been under monopolist control.
    The victors of WWII play off the Germanic race as losers in that ideologically staged war. The Germanic race was in fact spectacular winners, crushing the mighty Japanese Empire and recapturing control over the Holy Land. Communism was allowed to spread through Eastern Europe and Asia, proving to be a superior method of conquering peoples than warfare. Communism in the forms of socialism, Outcome Based Education and slanted mass media has spread through the western world converting people by suggestion to Marxist-Leninist ideology.

    Following WWII in 1946 the Tavistock Institute was established in London with a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Tavistock’s pioneer work in behavioural science along Freudian lines of ‘controlling’ humans established it as the world centre of foundation ideology. “All Tavistock and American foundation techniques have a single goal—to break down the psychological strength of the individual and render him helpless to oppose the dictators of the World Order. Any technique which helps to break down the family unit, and family inculcated principles of religion, honour, patriotism and sexual behaviour, is used by the Tavistock scientists as weapons of crowd control.
    Fischer, Joschka
    Fischer, Stanley
    FitzGerald, Niall
    Franz, Duke of Bavaria
    Fridman, Mikhail
    Friso, Prince of Orange-Nassau
    Gates, Bill
    Geidt, Christopher
    Geithner, Timothy
    Georg Friedrich, Prince of Prussia
    Gibson-Smith, Dr Chris
    Gorbachev, Mikhail
    Gore, Al
    Gotlieb, Allan
    Green, StephenLieberman, Joe
    Livingston, Ian
    Loong, Lee Hsien
    Lorenz of Belgium, Archduke of Austria-Este
    Louis Alphonse, Duke of Anjou
    Louis-Dreyfus, Gérard
    Mabel, Princess of Orange-Nassau
    Mandelson, Peter
    MWaddaulah, Hassanal Bolkiah Mu’izzaddin, Sultan of Brunei
    Walker, Sir David
    Wallenberg, Jacob
    Walsh, John
    Warburg, Max
    Weber, Axel Alfred
    Weill, Michael David
    Wellink, Nout
    Whitmaanning, Sir David
    Margherita, Archduchess of Austria-Este
    Margrethe II, Queen of DenmarkGree
    Worcester, Sir Robert
Wu, Sarah
Zoellick, Robert

    http://the2012scenario.com/2012/04/ever-wondered-just-who-is-the-committee-of-300
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=OG-Yu495x3Y

    And so the two patterns dance together for a while.
    Those that dance and those that dance a time of sorrow and loss as many are choosing to make their
    ascension on this side. Some simply do not have healthy bodies, are in fear of the higher energies, or feel complete in other ways, so they will be transitioning.


    And there you are with your finest scientific equipment and you look at this dance and instead of seeing a romance between two patterns of energy, you think you are looking at a particle - perhaps a proton – inside an atom. But I hope you have noticed the important part of this tale. This was the fact that those particles – in fact all particles in the whole universe – are all composed of patterns in the same one infinite, universal energy field. You see: ONE energy field makes up everything in your whole universe.

    This means that EVERYTHING that you think is real is actually just patterns and variations in the same one energy.
    Every nano moment of every day and night is a "happening occurrence."/ In the midst of the waves crashing about, just choose to be still for a while and see what’s inside.

    Self-master is that unity, is that oneness, is that total acceptance that allows you to stay with yourself moment by moment in the midst of upcoming average consensus reality turmoil. Bill Gates arrested; the announcement in an Italian paper that the pope will resign on April 15th lol ; the presence of a US marshal accompanying cabal operatives like Timothy Geithner; in China news of this titanic power struggle is being suppressed by its Communist Party who have, so far, arrested at least 6, shut down at least 16 websites, and “disabled” two Twitter-like services run by Sina Corporation and Tencent Holdings, which each have more than 300 million users.

    And there’s no end to it. You might as well get used to it.

    are all signs that very little, if any, opposition remains.


    Religious leaders and political jackals are continuing to be exposed for what they really are and WHO they really are. Those peoples of little FAITH are slowly being consumed by the madness of the pack running amuck in its final surge for supremacy.

    watchers? They are the Earth Monitors who reside in Nirvana, they are the Spirit Guides of all incarnate Souls and Star Keepers monitoring every event or non-event in every Universe. They are from the Spirit and Angelic realms. able to correctly determine when and where any life form may be about to rise above their current level of enlightenment. thus entitling hose to receive more immediate personal care from the others.
    “It is through the constant monitoring of your thoughts and feelings--controlling your emotions and how you react to people and situations that will bring an inner peace,You’ll know you’re still in the old when you catch yourself judging. Not discerning, but judging. Especially others.

    requiring full intent by keeping in mind "I am not to fill in my grid. It's not my job to fill in the grid. Not my job, not my work, not my work. Not my work to fill in the grid. (abe)

    Not going to jump on ideas too fast. I'm going to make sure that they settle in in a really good way first. gonna make sure that I've done the grid work, and that my chosen grid is my point of attraction.! Able to accept the fact that it IS difficult to always see clearly when the forest and the trees all look alike?

    Understand that the millions and millions of people here of all races are too afraid to believe truth; therefore they unconsciously feel that they must accept the illusions of truth? After all, you have every right to be joyful if you choose. And this is, ultimately, what will get you to 5D. Making the choice to change the channel from drama to comedy. From tragedy to triumph!You must no longer think. You must FEEL. Doing so will fire up those upgrades and enable you to use more of your personal power.

    Everyone ascends at different rates because many still have lots of lower energies they must clear from their auras and chakras. Once you’re spending more time sending light and love than you are checking for “good news” on the Internet, you will being your ascension.Yes, your mission, should you choose to accept is to be loving and to be HAPPY. We’re serious. It will completely suffocate what is left of the cabal.
    "The meek shall inherit the world?" He meant, in a place of non resistance all things desired flow.
    [youtube][/youtube]





    http://beforeitsnews.com/story/1977/936/4_3_12_Massive_Chemtrail_Spraying,_Earthquakes,_Tornadoes,_HAARP_Clouds.html


    The vast majority are indeed man made, they are most definately NOT a "known unknown" its called geo-engineering and it is also used to test "dispersal" of bio weapons but as you don't do the research you make assassinating statements like that..-....




    …3 C: Every man and woman is a star

    M: Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths


    of the ages Celebrate symbols form deep elder forests

    [Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]

    7 C: Behold! It is revealed by Aiwass the minister of Hoor-paar-kratt.


    M: Do you know we are ruled by T.V.

    The moon is a dry blood beast Gerilla bands are rolling numbers

    in the next block of green vine amassing

    for warfare on innocent

    herdsmen who are just dying,.
    ..
    . but what angered Wilder most of all about life in the apartment building was the way in which an apparently homogeneous collection of high-income professional people had split into three distinct and hostile camps. The old social sub-divisions, based on power, capital and self-interest, had re-asserted themselves here as anywhere else. In effect, the high-rise had already divided itself into the three classical social groups, its lower, middle and upper classes.

    [youtube][/youtube]

    The 10th-floor shopping mall formed a clear boundary between the lower nine floors, with their "proletariat" of film technicians, air-hostesses and the like, and the middle section of the high-rise, which extended from the 10th floor to the swimming- pool and restaurant deck on the 35th.

    This central two-thirds of the apartment building formed its middle class, made up of self-centred but basically docile members of the professions -- the doctors and lawyers, accountants and tax specialists who worked, not for themselves, but for medical institutes and large corporations.
    Puritan and self-disciplined, they had all the cohesion of those eager to settle for second best. Above them, on the top five floors of the high-rise, was its upper class, the discreet oligarchy of minor tycoons and entrepreneurs, television actresses and careerist academics, with their high-speed elevators and superior services, their carpeted staircases. It was they who set the pace of the building. It was their complaints which were acted upon first, and it was they who subtly dominated life within the high-rise, deciding when the children could use the swimming-pools and roof garden, the menus in the restaurant and the high charges that kept out almost everyone but themselves. Above all, it was their subtle patronage that kept the middle ranks in line, this constantly dangling carrot of friendship and approval.
    The thought of these exclusive residents, as high above him in their top-floor redoubts as any feudal lord above a serf, filled Wilder with a growing sense of impatience and resentment. However, it was difficult to organize any kind of counter-attack. It would be easy enough to play the populist leader and become the spokesman of his neighbours on the lower floors, but they lacked any cohesion or self-interest; they would be no match for the well-disciplined professional people in the central section of the apartment building.


    There was a latent easy-goingness about them, an inclination to tolerate an undue amount of interference before simply packing up and moving on. In short, their territorial instinct, in its psychological and social senses, had atrophied to the point where they were ripe for exploitation. To rally his neighbours Wilder needed something that would give them a strong feeling of identity. The television documentary would do this perfectly and in terms, moreover, which they could understand.
    The documentary would dramatize all their resentments, and expose the way in which the services and facilities were being abused by the upper-level tenants. It might even be necessary to foment trouble surreptitiously, to exaggerate the tensions present in the high-rise. However, as Wilder soon discovered, the shape of his documentary was already being determined. Fired by his resolve to fight back, Wilder decided to give his wife and children a break from his ceaseless pacing. The air-conditioning now worked for only five minutes in each hour, and by dusk the apartment was stuffy and humid.

    The noise of over-loud conversations and record-players at full volume reverberated off the balconies above them. Helen Wilder moved along the already closed windows, her small hands pressed numbly against the latches as if trying to push away the night. Too preoccupied to help her, Wilder set off with a towel and swimming trunks to the pool on the 10th floor. A few telephone calls to his neighbours on the lower floors had confirmed that they were keen to take part in the documentary, but Wilder needed participants from the upper and middle levels of the high-rise. The out-of-order elevators had still not been repaired, and Wilder took to the stairs. Sections of the staircase had already been turned into a garbage-well by the residents above. Broken glass littered the steps, cutting his shoes.

    The shopping mall was crowded with people, milling about and talking at the tops of their voices as if waiting for a political rally to start. Usually deserted at this hour, the swimming-pool was packed with residents playing the fool in the water, pushing each other off the tiled verge and splashing the changing stalls. The attendant had gone, abandoning his booth, and already the pool was beginning to look neglected, discarded towels lying in the gutters. In the showers Wilder recognized Robert Laing. Although the doctor turned his back on him Wilder ignored the rebuff and stood under the next spray. The two men spoke briefly but in non-committal terms. Wilder had always found Laing good company, with his keen eye for any passing young woman, but today he was being standoffish. Like everyone else he had been affected by the atmosphere of confrontation. "Have the police arrived yet?" Wilder asked above the noise as they walked to the diving-boards. "No -- are you expecting them?" Laing seemed genuinely surprised. "They'll want to question the witnesses. What happened, in fact? Was he pushed? His wife looks hefty enough -- perhaps she wanted a quick divorce?" Laing smiled
    patiently, as if this remark in doubtful taste was all he expected of Wilder. His sharp eyes were deliberately vague, and remained closed to any probing. "I know nothing about the accident, Wilder. It may have been suicide, I suppose. Are you personally concerned?" "Aren't you, Laing? It's odd that a man can fall from a window forty floors above the ground without there being any kind of investigation . . ." Laing stepped on to the diving board. His body was unusually well muscled, Wilder noticed, almost as if he had been taking a good deal of recent exercise, doing dozens of push-ups. Laing waited for a clear space in the crowded water. "I think we can rely on his neighbours to look after everything." Wilder lifted his voice. "I've begun planning the television documentary -- his death would make a good starting point." Laing looked down at Wilder with sudden interest. He shook his head firmly. "I'd forget all about it -- if I were you, Wilder."
    He stepped to the end of the board, sprang twice and made a hard, neat dive into the yellowing water. Swimming by himself at the shallow end of the pool, Wilder watched Laing and his party of friends playing about in the deep end. Previously Wilder would have joined them, particularly as there were two attractive women in the group -- Charlotte Melville, whom he had not seen for several days about their projected parents' association, and the tyro alcoholic Eleanor Powell. Wilder had obviously been excluded. Laing's pointed use of his surname marked the distance between them, like his vagueness about the dead jeweller, and his sidestepping of the television documentary, in which he had once been keenly interested -- if anything, Laing's approval had inspired Wilder to develop the idea into a provisional treatment.

    Presumably Laing, with his excessive need for privacy, had no wish to see the collective folly of the residents, their childish squabbles and jealousies, exposed on the nation's television screens. Or was there some other impulse at work -- a need to shut away, most of all from oneself, any realization of what was actually happening in the high-rise, so that events there could follow their own logic and get even more out of hand? For all his own professed enthusiasm about the documentary, Wilder knew that he had never discussed it with anyone who did not live inside the apartment building. Even Helen, talking to her mother that afternoon on the telephone, had said vaguely, "Everything's fine. There's some slight trouble with the air-conditioning, but it's being fixed." This growing defiance of reality no longer surprised Wilder. The decision that the chaos within the high-rise was a matter for the residents themselves explained the mystery of the dead jeweller. At least a thousand people must have seen the body --

    Wilder remembered stepping on to the balcony and being startled, not by the sight of the dead man, but by the huge audience reaching up to the sky. Had anyone notified the police? He had taken it for granted, but now he was less sure. Wilder found it hard to believe that this sophisticated and self-important man would commit suicide. Yet no one was in the least concerned, accepting the possibility of murder in the same way thatthe swimmers in the pool accepted the wine bottles and beer cans rolling around the tiled floor under their feet. During the evening, Wilder's speculations took second place to the struggle to preserve his sanity.

    After settling the two boys in their bedroom, he and his wife sat down to dinner, only to find that a sudden electricity failure had plunged them into darkness. Sitting opposite each other at the dining-room table, they listened to the continuous noise from the corridor, their neighbours arguing in the elevator lobby, transistors blaring through open apartment doors. Helen began to laugh, relaxing for the first time in weeks. "Dick, it's a huge children's party that's got out of hand." She reached out to calm Wilder. In the faint light that crossed the room from the nearby high-rise her slim face had an almost unreal calm, as if she no longer felt herself to be part of the events taking place around her. Restraining his temper, Wilder hunched heavily in the darkness over the table. He was tempted more than once to plunge his fist into his soup. When the lights returned he tried to telephone the building manager, but the switchboard was jammed with calls. At last a recorded voice told him that the manager had fallen ill, and that all complaints would be played through and noted for future attention.
    "My God, he's actually going to listen to all these tapes -- there must be miles of them . . ."
    "Are you sure?" Helen was giggling to herself. "Perhaps no one else minds. You're the only one."
    The tampering with the electricity system had affected the air-conditioning. Dust was spurting from the vents in the walls. Exasperated, Wilder drove his fists together. Like a huge and aggressive malefactor, the high-rise was determined to inflict every conceivable hostility upon them. Wilder tried to close the grilles, but within minutes they were forced to take refuge on the balcony. Their neighbours were crowded against their railings, craning up at the roof as if hoping to catch sight of those responsible. Leaving his wife, who was wandering light-headedly around the apartment and smiling at the spurting dust, Wilder went out into the corridor.

    All the elevators were stationary in the upper section of the building. A large group of his neighbours had gathered in the elevator lobby, pounding rhythmically on the doors and complaining about various provocative acts by the residents on the floors above. Wilder pushed his way towards the centre, where two airline pilots were standing on a lobby sofa and selecting the members of a raiding party. Wilder waited his turn, trying to catch their attention, until he realized from the excited talk around him that their mission consisted solely of going up to the 35th floor and publicly urinating into the water. Wilder was about to argue with them, warning that a childish act of this kind would be counter-productive. Until they were organized the notion of a punitive expedition was absurd, as they were far too exposed to retaliation. However, at the last moment he turned away. He stood by the doors to the staircase, aware that he no longer felt committed to this crowd of impulsive tenants egging each other on into a futile exercise,

    Their real opponent was not the hierarchy of residents in the heights far above them, but the image of the building in their own minds, the multiplying layers of concrete that anchored them to the floor. A cheer went up, followed by a chorus of catcalls. An elevator was at last descending from the 35th floor, the indicator numerals flashing from right to left. While it approached, Wilder thought of Helen and the two boys -- he knew already that his decision to dissociate himself from his neighbours had nothing to do with any feelings of concern for his wife and children. The elevator reached the 2nd floor and stopped. As the doors opened there was a sudden hush. Lying on the floor of the cabin was the barely conscious figure of one of Wilder's neighbours, a homosexual air-traffic controller who dined regularly in the 35th-floor restaurant. He turned his bruised face away from the watching crowd and tried to button the shirt torn from his chest. Seeing him clearly as the crowd stepped back, awed by this evidence of open violence. Wilder heard someone say that two more floors, the 5th and 8th, were now in darkness.

    6/Danger in the Streets of the Sky All day Richard Wilder had been preparing for his ascent. After the noise-filled night, which he had spent calming his sons and giggling wife, Wilder left for the television studios. Once there, he cancelled his appointments and told his secretary that he would be away for the next few days. While he spoke, Wilder was barely aware of this puzzled young woman or his curious colleagues in the nearby offices -- he had shaved only the left side of his face, and had not changed his clothes since the previous day.
    Tired out, he briefly fell asleep at his desk, watched by his secretary as he slumped snoring across his unread correspondence. After no more than an hour at the studios, he packed his briefcase and returned to the high-rise. For Wilder, this brief period away from the apartment building was almost dreamlike in its unreality. He left his car in the parking-lot without locking it and walked towards the entrance, a growing sense of relief coming over him. Even the debris scattered at the foot of the building, the empty bottles and garbage-stained cars with their broken windscreens, in a strange way merely reinforced his conviction that the only real events in his life were those taking place within the high-rise. Although it was after eleven o'clock, Helen and the children were still asleep. A film of white dust covered the furniture in the lounge and bedrooms, as if he had returned to the apartment and its three sleepers after an immense period of time had condensed around them like a stone frost. Wilder had blocked the air-conditioning vents during the night, and the apartment was without sound or movement. Wilder looked down at his wife, lying on the bed surrounded by the children's books she was reviewing. Aware that he would be leaving her in a few hours, he regretted that she was too weak to come with him. They might have climbed the high-rise together. Trying to think more clearly about his ascent, Wilder began to clean the apartment. He stepped out on to the balcony and swept up the cigarette butts and broken glass, condoms and torn newspapers thrown down from the floors above. He could no longer remember when he had made his decision to climb the building, and had little idea of what exactly he would do when he finally got there. He was also well aware of the disparity between the simple business of climbing to the roof -- a matter of pressing an elevator button -- and the mythologized version of this ascent that had taken over his mind. This same surrender to a logic more powerful than reason was evident in the behaviour of Wilder's neighbours. In the elevator lobby he listened to the latest rumours.

    Earlier that morning there had been a serious brawl between the 9th- and llth-floor tenants. The 10th-floor concourse was now a no-man's land between two warring factions, the residents of the lower nine floors and those in the middle section of the building. Despite the harassment and increasing violence, no one was surprised by these events. The routines of daily life within the high-rise, the visits to the supermarket, liquor store and hair-dressing salon continued as before.
    In some way the high- rise was able to accommodate this double logic. Even the tone of voice of his neighbours as they described these outbreaks of hostility was calm and matter-of-fact, like that of civilians in a war-torn city dealing with yet another air-raid. For the first time it occurred to Wilder that the residents enjoyed this breakdown of its services, and the growing confrontation between themselves. All this brought them together, and ended the frigid isolation of the previous months.


    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Fri Apr 13, 2012 6:03 pm


    kin 215 : 0n fry-day 13. “ø12 blue resident eagle
    (& the High-rise)jg ballard

    I Channel in order to Create
    I Inspire Mind
    I seal the output of vision
    With the Resonant tone of Attunement

    I am GUIDEd by the power of Accomplishment

    In galactic culture individualized diversity is subsumed into mythic diversity.

    cubit is a cubit and at hand's breadth; even the bottom shall be a cubit, and the breadth a cubit, and the border thereof by the edge thereof round about shall be a span …and ….so that looking pretty …membranes de-span at the speed of the wink of an eyelid, unfurling unseen depth of thought.....

    > Weeding out limiting beliefs. t; make them work for you.<

    This is the paradox -- just like the Time-Frequency Uncertainty -- we can never know the proper frequency nor anticipate the very momental occurrence of….…the all-abiding reality where there is no thought..– the time of magic flirt that was veiled by the process of history. Now is our opportunity to pick up the parallel timelines -just a ~mµ away to envision the highest other side of the effusing cie c lo … …it can only be listened to -- in silence

    -- for ever.


    That process of listening then creates everything but the listening itself is Harmonia -- the three in one of love-health-spirit. No One is listening. That is the practice of real music as the portal or gateway to consciousness … ”Sweet understandin’, "I am glad you asked, because it is no small thing. I will put you into a deep, deep trance, so complete that you will forget who you are. You will live a human life, and i put you in a place where you will completely forget your origins. You will forget even language, your own true name. You will be separated from the wonder and beauty of our world, and from the love that bathes us all. You will miss it deeply, yet you will not know what it is you are missing. You will only remember the love and beauty that we know to be normal as a longing in your heart. Your memory will take the form of an intuitive knowledge, as you plunge into the painfully marred earth, that a more beautiful world is possible.

    … Mind consists of six (+1) fourth-dimensional electronic spheres located in the brain; the center of each sphere is constituted of alphas that give rise to thinking.…
    and Absolute elsewhere in the stones of your mind
    (Franklin Merrell-Woolf:-) “This space I produce that My Glory shall be revealed; yet I alone Realize that Revelation.”



    The first proof that approximated the square root of two was the Freemasonic “squaring of the circle.” The Vedic priests, as far back as 3,000 B.C., demanded that altars be patriarchal squares, and that matriarchal female circle altars were heretical. If circle altars were built they had to be the same area as the squares. (Dr. Seidenberg, “The Ritual Origins of Geometry”). The squaring of the circle is a central theorem to the Freemasons. The second proof that necessitated the containment of the Cosmic Mother was the doubling of the cubical altar. The gods stated, as far back as 3,000 B.C., that a plague could only be stopped unless this was mathematically achieved. Archytas, the military general collaborator with Plato, faced the same Demonic Altar Plague problem as occurred in 3,000 B.C.

    Like a thief (world governments = thief ) in the night (a stunning enduring conscious, in wide parts illinformed Ignorance)
    the Armies of Nirvana and Dragonia can operate on the Earth chessboard, provided that they do not interfere with the main structures of the Earth society. To do this, they need to use terrestrial shapes and live as characters on Earth : aliens in disguise behaving exactly like terrestrials do. They have developed the art of human mimicry, acting as chameleons in a jungle : the jungle Earth.

    Yes there is transformation of Nature into humans into machine and there is the cycling of the elements but that is not the real conspiracy of consciousness. This society created New Agers, they are just spreading the light with a bit of fake fairy dust thrown in because that’s what Joe public here sit up and take notice of. Very clever of the dark controllers of our world view, to fill brains up with cancerous beliefs, based on false sympathy for anyone that is suffering, i.e. war victims, starving, people, terminal illnesses, soldiers, genetic diseases, cruelty to children, women, animals anyone or thing that’s a victim or a minority. Shed a little tear, fain a weep, give to the charity, buy the record and move on. Temporary, emotionally inept bottom feeding robots. Guilt trip feeding the masses, so they all feel responsible for death and tragedy. Nothings meant to change in this dark evil plan; so move on to the next drama unfolding in your life, at least it makes you feel something.

    featuring ıce - c °~° ∫3e

    [youtube][/youtube]

    IN THE NAME OF THE KING

    NAMASTE

    And so the sagas of the Illuminati and the Annunaki, the Families and the Federations, Crews and others are all creative representations of one sort or another devoted to shedding light on the circumstances you now have to deal with in order to turn around the pattern that has been in effect for hundreds of thousands of years.

    The real consciousness conspiracy is that the Cosmic Mother will never be unveiled -- that there is an infinite process of transformation but the only thing that remains unchanged is impersonal formless consciousness as the Emptiness -- it can not be seen.
    Only by listening -- what's called Mouna Samadhi -- samadhi of silence -- do we engage or resonate with our true origin as the Emptiness that creates energymass and spacetime.

    So modern humans are a "vanishing mediator" -- 90% of human history was right brain dominant in harmony with left handed carbon-based molecules of ecology. ram a na
    Professor Chris Knight was working on his new book called the Human Conspiracy about the origin of human language from the female group synchronization with the lunar cycle and menstruation -- and so the secret is that the female lunar energy is the electrochemical power of humanity called N/om by the Bushmen but left-brain dominant language cuts us off from this secret origin.

    Only by humans uniting with the lunar love energy and building up the electrochemical energy is it possible to harmonize with the solar electromagnetic energy as the spirit shen energy to then go back to our origin of the formless awareness as the Cosmic Mother -- what's called Nirvikalpa Samadhi in yoga -- it's the right side of the heart. That is the hole that goes to the origin of the Universe as pure consciousness
    .

    So even travelling through all the astral realms is not this formless origin -- only the origin is real and that is the real conspiracy.
    .
    The dark Mother To all that is not.

    "duty/honor/privelege" -becoming out of neccessity a low-mass black hole using a lattice compRAession modulus ka~219 MeV
    http://books.google.com/books?id=xhLjII9E188C&pg=PA53#v=onepage&q&f=false


    "Thus we can see the Divine Plan at work in our own everyday lives. We hear terrestrial and extraterrestrial sages refer to it and describe it. Do the galactics and celestials gathered around our planet at this time also serve it? It is the Law of the Creator.” ( :
    The magnetic pole shift is an energetic necessity on the way to ascension and must happen at some point in time. It may happen simultaneously with the expected inter-dimensional split (shift) this spring when the two timelines A/B and B will visibly separate, or it may happen sometimes later down the road – in this case around September as CA says.


    "Cold-dark-matter models predict that there should be tens to hundreds more dwarf galaxies in the Local Group than have been observed, if all dark-matter halos are lit up with stars,


    We are in the black iron prison

    > Korrific: Horrific or Terrific more: science-dependent; -evidence - of - senses - addiction cruxifixion / amamalgamization the cup of fury drained by Babylon arouses feelings of “tamasisk,” negative, angry, violent thinking/actions, circular cycling descending spirals.“fury.” In depictions of Kali, she is shown seated or standing upon a reclining, copulating couple. The male is blue, wears a crown, and lies on his back. The female is white-skinned, and is on top of the dark male. .

    We imprison ourselves in these cycles, the prisoner, hostage, or slave...Don't make them…… not be troubled by the shadows, haunted by phantoms, or stalked by history
    processing these things into use ie. a hive mentality that everyone must go in the same direction. A development of bullying that is occurring in schools, kindergartens and everyday situations that anyone who does not fit the mold, does not have the equipment or the uniform of the majority is rejected as eccentric and is an “out-sider,” and it is legitimate to attack them and even to kill them. This is a most unfortunate extreme position of your “think-alike” mentality of this nation and other nations.
    The second difficulty is when we criticized someone behind their back, we were then left with what the rest Network called a “withhold.” We now had a secret to guard and part of our energy, instead of being open and flowing, was now given over to protecting our secret. Someone once said that we didn’t need a memory if we always told the truth and had no secrets. Said another way, transparency eliminates the need for secrets and for remembering. As a student of the path of awareness, I observe myself, including when I lie. It’s a peculiar thing. Covering up a lie or hiding a malignant secret seems to cause the energy to fold back on itself. We speak of “tying up our energy” in our lies. We tie up our energy in hiding our lying in the first place and in remembering to keep the lie a secret in the second ..

    http://www.telefonica.net/web2/paramahamsa/arthritis.html

    B
    ring your awareness to the inner LIMI plasma at the center of your solar plexus. Visualize the red symbol radiating streams of white light. “I consume dualistic thoughts as food. I pURify the Mental-Electron at the North Pole.” “Flash onto the Limi plasma and feel the galactic connection out of the Solar Plexus.”

    http://www.greatdreams.com/lostland/string-pearls.htm

    the forces of evil are still free but they will cease to thrive when you cease to support them, realizing that we can changing our ways.

    and regarding this type of inter-Cosmic marriages, the main difference between marriages involving the Confederate aliens of Nirvana and marriages involving the reptoid aliens of Dragonia is that in the first case the terrestrial wife or husband always knows about the alien origin of his or her partner; and in the last case the terrestrial part frequently don't know anything about his or her partner being an alien lizard.



    If the magnetic pole reversal happens after the inter-dimensional shift in September, then it will not affect the new balanced earth A/B, but only earth B, and the people staying on this planet will experience this catastrophic scenario, for which they have incarnated at these times (to appease their survival mentality of young, unripe souls).The quantum magnetism of the elementary particles, known also as “magnetism of matter” will still continue to exist, but will be somewhat diluted, so that matter will be more malleable and less dense than now. Its polarity, due to current magnetism, will be also much smaller. There are infinite graduations in this respect…..

    fore more there were, remember… The 10th-floor concourse was now a no-man's land between
    two warring factions, the residents of the lower nine floors and those in the
    middle section of the building….
    During the afternoon Wilder played with his sons and waited for the evening to
    come. Helen moved silently around the apartment, barely aware of her husband.
    After the fit of compulsive laughter the previous evening, her face was waxy
    and expressionless. Now and then a tic flickered in the right apex of her
    mouth, as if reflecting a tremor deep within her mind. She sat at the
    dining-table, mechanically straightening the boys' hair. Watching her, and
    unable to think of what he could do to help her, Wilder almost believed that
    it was she who was leaving him, rather than the contrary.

    As the light began to fade, Wilder watched the first of the residents return
    from their offices. Among them, stepping from her car, was Jane Sheridan. Six
    months earlier, Wilder had broken off a brief affair with the actress,
    ironically enough because of the effort involved in reaching the 37th floor.
    He had found it difficult to be himself in her apartment. All the time he was
    conscious of the distance to the ground, and of his wife and children far
    below him, deep in the lowest seams of the building like the exploited women
    and child labourers of the nineteenth century. Watching television during
    their sexual acts in her chintz-lined bedroom, he felt as if he were high over
    the city in a lavish executive airliner fitted with boudoir and cocktail bar.
    Their conversations, even their diction and vocabulary, had become as stylized
    as those of strangers in adjacent aircraft seats.

    The actress walked to the private entrance of the upper-floor elevator lobby,
    picking her way casually through the broken bottles and empty cans. A single
    journey to her apartment would carry him, like a ladder in a board game,
    virtually to the top of the high-rise with one throw of the dice.
    Helen was putting the boys to bed. She had moved the wardrobe and
    dressing-table around their beds, in an attempt to shield them from the noise
    and disturbances which the night would bring.
    "Richard . . . ? Are you going . . . ?"
    As she spoke she emerged briefly from the deep well inside herself, aware for
    these few seconds that she and her sons were about to be left on their own.
    Wilder waited for this moment of lucidity to pass, knowing that it would be
    impossible to describe his self-imposed mission to Helen. She sat silently on
    her bed, a hand resting on the pile of children's books, watching him in the
    mirror with an unchanging expression as he stepped into the corridor.

    Wilder soon found that it was more difficult than he had assumed to climb to
    the 37th floor. The five top-floor elevators were either out of order or had
    been taken to the upper levels and parked there with their doors jammed open.
    The 2nd-floor lobby was crowded with Wilder's neighbours, some in office
    suits, others in beach wear, arguing with each other like disgruntled tourists
    caught by a currency crisis. Wilder pushed through them to the staircase, and
    began the long climb to the 10th floor, where he stood a better chance of
    finding an ascending elevator.
    When he reached the 5th floor he met the dozen members of the airline pilots'
    raiding party returning from another of their abortive missions. Angry and
    shaken, they shouted at the people jeering down at them from the stairwell
    above. The entrance to the 10th-floor concourse had been blocked by desks and
    chairs taken from the junior school and flung down the stairs. The raiding
    party, made up of parents of the children attending the school, had tried to
    replace the desks, harassed by residents from the middle floors waiting
    impatiently for the liquor store to be re-stocked.
    Wilder pressed on past them. By the time he reached the 10th floor the
    opposing group had moved off in a posse. Wilder stepped over the broken desks
    lying on the steps, pencils and crayons scattered around them. Wishing that he
    had brought his camera with him, he noticed two 18th-floor residents, a
    chemical engineer and a personnel manager, standing by the door. Each had a
    cine-camera and was carefully filming the scene below, following Wilder as he
    climbed towards them. [youtube][/youtube]
    Leaving them to complete these dubious private news-reels, Wilder pushed back
    the swing doors, and looked out at the deck of the shopping mall. Hundreds of
    residents jostled against each other, pulling and shoving among the wine-bins
    and shelves of detergent packs, wire trollies locked together in a mesh of
    chromium wire. Voices rose in anger above the singing of the cash registers.
    Meanwhile, as these scuffles took place, a line of women customers sat under
    the driers in the hairdressing salon, calmly reading their magazines. The two
    cashiers on evening duty at the bank impassively counted out their bank-notes.
    Giving up any attempt to cross the concourse, Wilder turned into the deserted
    swimming-pool. The water level was down by at least six inches, as if someone had been stealing the yellowing fluid. Wilder walked around the pool. An empty wine
    bottle floated in the centre, surrounded by a swill of cigarette packs and
    unravelling cigar butts. Below the diving-boards a newspaper hung slackly in
    the water, its wavering headline like a message from another world.

    In the 10th-floor lobby a crowd of residents pressed impatiently against the
    elevator doors, their arms laden with liquor cartons and delicatessen
    purchases, raw materials for the aggressive parties of that evening. Wilder
    returned to the staircase. Somewhere above him these passengers would step out
    of their elevators and give him a chance to get aboard.
    He climbed the steps two at a time. The staircase was deserted -- the higher
    up the building the more reluctant were the residents to use the stairs, as if
    this in some way demeaned them. As he pressed on upwards Wilder peered through
    the windows at the car-park sinking from view below. The distant arm of the
    river stretched towards the darkening outline of the city, a signpost pointing
    towards a forgotten world.
    As he turned into the final stretch of steps to the 14th floor, picking his
    way among the discarded cans and cigarette packs, something moved above his
    head. Wilder paused and looked up, his lungs pumping in the silence. A kitchen
    chair whirled through the air towards his head, hurled down by an assailant
    three floors above. Wilder flinched back as the steel chair struck the
    railing, glancing against his right arm before spinning away. Wilder crouched against the steps, shielding himself below the overhang of the next floor.

    He massaged his bruised arm. At least three or four people were waiting for
    him, ostentatiously tapping their clubs on the metal railing. Fists clenching,
    Wilder searched the steps for a weapon.
    Danger in the streets of the sky -- his first impulse was to rush the stairs
    and counter-attack.
    With his powerful physique he knew that he could put to flight any three
    residents of the high-rise, these under-exercised and overweight account executives and corporation lawyers egged on into this well-bred violence by their pushy wives. However,he calmed himself, deciding against a frontal attack -- he would reach the top of the high-rise, but by guile rather than by brute force.

    He moved down to the 13th-floor landing. Through the walls of the elevator
    shaft he could hear the rails and cables humming. Passengers were stepping out
    of the elevators on to their floors. But the doors into the 13th-floor lobby
    had been bolted. A face frowned out at him, a well-groomed hand curtly waved him away.
    All the way down to the 10th floor the communicating doors had been locked or
    barricaded.
    Frustrated, Wilder returned to the shopping mall. A large crowd was still
    waiting by the elevators. They formed clearly demarked groups from different
    floors, each commandeering its own transit system.
    Wilder left them and strode towards the supermarket. The shelves had been
    stripped, and the staff had left after locking the turnstiles. Wilder vaulted
    over a check-out counter and made his way to the store-room at the rear.
    Beyond the pyramids of empty cartons was one of the three service cores of the
    high-rise, containing a freight elevator, and the water, air-conditioning and
    electrical supply trunks.
    Wilder waited as the elevator descended cumbrously down its shaft. The size of
    a carrier's aircraft lift, it had been designed to carry kitchen-appliance
    islands, bathroom units, and the huge pop-art and abstract-expressionist
    paintings favoured by the residents of the high-rise.
    As he pulled back the steel grille he noticed a thin-shouldered young woman
    hiding behind the control panel. She was pallid and undernourished, but she
    watched Wilder with interest, as if glad to welcome him to this private
    domain.

    "How far do you want to go?" she asked him. "We can travel anywhere. I'll ride
    with you."
    Wilder recognized her as a masseuse from the 5th floor, one of the vagrants
    who spent their time wandering around the high-rise, the denizens of an
    interior world who formed a second invisible population. "All right -- what
    about the 35th floor?"
    "The people on the 30th are nicer." Expertly she pressed the control buttons,
    activating the heavy doors. Within seconds the elevator was carrying them
    ponderously aloft. The young masseuse smiled at him encouragingly, alive now
    that they were moving. "If you want to go higher, I'll show you. There are a
    lot of air-shafts, you know. The trouble is, dogs have got into them --
    they're getting hungry . . ."

    An hour later, when Wilder stepped out into the lavishly carpeted lobby of the
    37th floor, he realized that he had discovered a second building inside the
    one that he had originally occupied. He left behind the young masseuse,
    endlessly climbing the service shafts and freight wells of the high-rise,
    transits that externalized an odyssey taking place inside her head. During his
    roundabout route with her -- changing to a second freight elevator to climb
    three floors to the 28th, moving up and down a maze of corridors on the
    borders of hostile enclaves, until finally taking an upper-level elevator a
    journey of one storey -- Wilder had seen the way in which the middle and upper
    levels of the building had organized themselves.
    While his neighbours on the lower floors remained a confused rabble united
    only by their sense of impotence, here everyone had joined a local group of
    thirty adjacent apartments, informal clans spanning two or three floors based
    on the architecture of corridors, lobbies and elevators.
    There were now some twenty of these groups, each of which had formed local
    alliances with those on either side. There was a marked increase in vigilante
    activity of all kinds. Barriers were being set up, fire-doors locked, garbage
    thrown down the stairwells or dumped on rival landings.
    On the 29th floor Wilder came across a commune composed exclusively of women,
    a cluster of apartments dominated by an elderly children's-story writer, a
    woman of intimidating physique and personality. Sharing an apartment with her
    were three air-hostesses from the 1st floor. Wilder walked gingerly down the
    corridor between their apartments, glad of the company of the young masseuse.
    What unsettled Wilder, as the women questioned him in pairs from their
    half-open doors, was their hostility to him, not only because he was a man,
    but because he was so obviously trying to climb to a level above their own.
    He stepped out with relief into the deserted lobby of the 37th floor. He stood
    by the staircase doors, suspicious that no one was guarding the lobby.
    Conceivably the residents here were unaware of what was going on beneath their
    feet. The carpets in the silent corridors were thick enough to insulate them
    from hell itself.
    He walked down the corridor towards Jane Sheridan's apartment. She might be
    surprised to see him, but Wilder was confident that he would spend the night
    with her. The next day he would move in permanently, and visit Helen and the
    boys on his way to and from the television studios.
    As he pressed the bell he could hear her strong, masculine voice through the
    door, its tone familiar from countless television costume-dramas. At last the
    door opened, held on its latch chain. When she looked out at Wilder,
    recognizing him immediately, he knew that she had been waiting for him to arrive. She was detached and uneasy at the same time, like a spectator forced to watch someone about to be involved in an accident. Wilder remembered that he had given his destination to one of the women's vigilante groups.

    "Jane, you're expecting me. I'm flattered."
    "Wilder . . . I can't --"
    Before Wilder could speak the door of the next apartment opened sharply.
    Staring at Wilder with undisguised hostility were a tax specialist from the
    40th floor and an over-muscled choreographer with whom Wilder had often heaved
    a medicine ball in the 10th-floor gymnasium.
    Realizing that his arrival had been anticipated by all these people, Wilder
    turned to leave, but the corridor behind him was blocked. A group of six
    residents had emerged together from the elevator lobby. They wore track suits
    and white sneakers, and at first sight looked like a middle-aged gymnasium
    dumb-bell team, each carrying his polished wooden clubs. Leading this antique
    but spritely troupe, which consisted of a stockbroker, two paediatricians and
    three senior academics, was Anthony Royal. As usual he wore his white
    safari-jacket, a costume which always irritated Wilder, the kind of garment
    that might be affected by an eccentric camp-commander or zoo-keeper. The corridor lighting flushed his blond hair and picked out the scars on his forehead, a confusing notation that hung like a series of mocking question marks over his stern expression. As he approached Wilder the chromium walking-stick flicked in his hand like a cane. Wilder watched the polished shaft catch the light, looking forward with pleasure to wrapping it around Royal's neck.
    Although well aware that he had been trapped, Wilder found himself laughing
    aloud at the sight of this lunatic troupe. When the lights failed, first
    dipping warningly and then going out altogether, he backed against the wall to
    allow the group to pass. The wooden clubs clicked around him in the darkness,
    beating out a well-rehearsed tattoo. From the open door of Jane Sheridan's
    apartment a torch flared at him.
    Around Wilder the dumb-bell troupe was beginning its act. The first clubs
    whirled in the torch-light. Without any warning, he felt a flurry of blows on
    his shoulders. Before he fell Wilder seized one of the clubs, but the others struck him to the carpeted floor at Anthony Royal's feet. When he woke he was lying outstretched on a sofa in the ground-floor entrance
    lobby.
    Fluorescent
    lights shone around
    him, reflected in the glass
    ceiling-panels.With their toneless
    glow they seemed to have been shining for
    ever somewhereinside his head. Two residents
    returning late to the high-rise waited by the elevators.
    Holding tightly to their briefcases, they ignored
    Wilder, whom
    they clearly assumed to be drunk.
    Aware of his bruised shoulders, Wilder reached up and nursed the swollen
    mastoid bone behind his right ear. When he could stand, he wandered away from
    the sofa towards the entrance and steadied himself against the glass doors.
    The lines of parked cars stretched through the darkness, enough transport to
    evacuate him to a thousand and one destinations. He walked out into the cold
    night air. Holding his neck, he looked up at the face of the high-rise. He
    could almost pick out the lights of the 37th floor. He felt suddenly
    exhausted, as much by the building's weight and mass as by his own failure.
    His casual and unthought-out attempt to scale the building had ended
    humiliatingly. In a sense he had been rejected more by the high-rise than by
    Royal and his friends.
    Lowering his eyes from the roof, he saw that his wife, fifty feet above him,
    was watching from the balcony of their apartment. Despite his dishevelled
    clothes and bruised face she showed no concern, as if she no longer recognized him.


    Last edited by cosmicnight13 on Fri Apr 20, 2012 3:03 pm; edited 1 time in total
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

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    Post  cosmicnight13 on Fri Apr 20, 2012 2:38 am

    end of red Moon wave…... showing us mirrors.. ongoing destiny for fantoms and those we(S!)ak of knee

    ….Only way to claim your beauty, your wealth, your health, and your love is to see it in others. claim your "“instant transformative power of spirit,”…..and after 2 full rounds of the tzolkin still no0000…inG naught

    my mayand is now turning out to be just this : a well made computerSimulation christlcrippl…ed beeee! -ing∞entity

    Υπάρχει ζωή gain Gaian entrance to the kingdom of light through valuing everything on earth.
    The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason.
    John Cage


    whether it is in person, politics, or objects/etc then it will show aggression toward your energy field. Holding the light in all scenarios in all existences is not for one weak of mind or purpose.


    Imagine all the cogs in the wheels that turn in each one of your existences to create events that open possibilities that you had not before entertained. Imagine a curtain being lifted allowing you to see the inner workings of every human heart you meet. As you move into these time events you will see the many deceptions each person wears, the many shoulds and should not’s that they still wrap around themselves as a cloak of invisibility. Many have cleaned their karma on a multitude of levels but forgotten to RESET THEIR KARMIC CLOCK.

    Do you want to Spring Forward or Fall back into the Old Ways? Do not become a victim of karma but a student of that which demands your pre-attention. Whatever screams at you in life is there to show you all about yourself. Every fracture has a reflection.
    Remember when you were pure Light, in the very beginning. Remember the duality that once lived within the Godhead. Remember the promises broken and kept, that you made to yourself and the Light? let go of what you promised and embrace the fullness of time. Renew the promises and the vows of light that you have forgotten.
    the spontaneous production of order from disorder is the expected consequence of basic laws. there are no default players, all of Earth will participate. Mother nature herself abhors a vacuum (like most goddesses) and will enter deep into the sky black caves, via the natural cycles. she herself can never have a black heart; she has no wish to harm her children. These storms/ and earth movements that come unexpectedly, like a babies heartbeat, represent the tsunami of emotional turmoil and lack of self-love on the planet.

    This crystallization of emotional energy can be witnessed as a form of physical stagnation and emotional entropy which causes the being to seek the minimal amount of discomfort possible, due to the subsequent fear of 'any CHANGES' to the status quo ; therefore avoiding LIFE, at all
    cost...
    In this living process, the addictions of avoidance, are maintained through the use of stimulants / suppressants (anything consumed) which are pandemic throughout the world. In most cases these addictions, even though toxic to the vitality and health of the body, are continued until sickness overtakes the body terminating the life cycle.
    Earth herself has the quantified ability to manifest for and with humanity all desires and wanting no matter how casually they were created. These thoughts that run in your minds, in your hearts, and in your everyday existences are asking for solutions,

    Navajos named the Pleiades the 'Sparkling Suns', the home of the 'Black God'. The Iroquois pray to them for happiness. The Cree claim to have come to Earth from the stars in spirit form first and then became flesh and blood. Some Native Americans believed that all tribes in North America came from the Pleiades. That they were actually descendents and had been given a task by the Pleiadians to keep the Earth safe.

    Decisions wait, until it's time to make them.
    Unless you already know what you want, in which case, however, there is no decision to be made.

    deep trance, so complete that you will forget who you are. You will live a human life, and in the beginning you will completely forget your origins. You will forget even our language and your own true name. You will be separated from the wonder and beauty of our world, and from the love that bathes us all. You will miss it deeply, yet you will not know what it is you are missing. You will only remember the love and beauty that we know to be normal as a longing in your heart. Your memory will take the form of an intuitive knowledge, as you plunge into the painfully marred earth,
    ………that a more beautiful world is possible.
    You will find the people of your tribe all over the earth, and become aware of them through the long-distance communication technologies used on that planet. But the real shift, the real quickening, will happen in face-to-face gatherings in special places on earth. When many of you gather together you will launch a new stage on your journey, a journey which, I assure you, will end where it began. Then, the mission that lay unconscious within you will flower into consciousness. Projecting our images in space and in time,

    Your intuitive rebellion against the world presented you as normal will become an explicit quest to create a more beautiful one.
    ․ It is impossible that your mission will fail. Yet, its success hangs on your own actions. The fate of the world is in your hands. The key to this paradox lies within you, in the feeling you carry that each of your actions, even your personal, secret struggles within, has cosmic significance. You will know then, as you do now, that everything you do matters. God sees everything.
    "

    Bring your awareness to the inner SILIO plasma at the center of your Heart Chakra. “Visualize the white SILIO symbol radiating luminous streams of white light.” “Feel the mental electron-neutron charge telepathically in resonance with the center of the Earth.”

    “My role is to accomplish the actions of the Buddha. I Discharge the Mental Electron-Neutron at the center of the Earth.”

    Keep in mind that time and space are the threads of the fabric, not the fabric itself. Within this fabric are what we call timelines, or threads that are given energy and life, i.e., creation. A timeline is a continuity of time and space that has been given consciousness by God’s Creator Sons. We are Creator Sons.Whenever a thought or spark of consciousness is rendered unto the tapestry of time-space, a timeline is created.
    …it resembles fiber optic wires lighting up with electricity against a dark background.
    fragile huburb of potentialities /¡|{in dire need of synchronic pile up}|¡\ for the possibilities that are offered by

    jesus8880

    It is very much the same system that is involved in the evolution of species that the life carriers bring to your world, that there is an initiation of a new species, a new variety, and that old varieties and species die away, and those who are more effective survive. There are improvements in all of this, and where you learn, you will learn to survive and you will learn about sustainability. The learning process will be most difficult, but you will learn, or you will die.
    'änd-thy-me.blu:ssss bb l :s es the Evolutionary 221 TEST 
e.t. al of the http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Implicate_order .
    ....it’s tryingtimes , look at the baseline of the VV-bluebubble it says: the lower the times , the greater the increase of random events, and thOse that thrigger telepathic ascent ––depending on clarity and enDuration (of folly)-capacity of oUR hard shattered AwarenessUnit

    Don't think twice
    'bout saying to some ONE you love them
    Say it NOW
    ……and always

    Be the love that you want to share

    [

    Love is your foundation
    Love is who you really are
    Love is space { mu - dRa } ‘

    LotTverticaltime time changes we on Earth here perceive the past, present and future Linear Time that we know 'now' as Cosmic Time with nine time zones. …due to a faster pulsating envelope of light in which we're hurling. In a way, nothing will change from moment to moment in our reality in the 'now', but…….as in a shadow of an ancient war]

    All movements are accomplished in six stages, and the seventh brings return. Thus the winter solstice, with which the decline of the year begins, comes in the seventh month after the summer solstice. So too sunrise comes in the seventh double hour after sunset. Seven is the number of the young light, and it arises when six, the number of the great darkness, is increased by one. In this way, the state of rest gives place to movement. In winter the life energy, symbolized by thunder, the Arousing, is still underground. Movement is just at its beginning.’

    The 7th day of the week, Saturday, is named after the god Saturn, this is taken as the Sabbath, while Sun-day brings the weeks return to moon-day.



    tellUric serpent rainbow power : ally, healer, and teacher of humanity.The fallen goddess myth says that the earth was not formed in the same manner as the rest of the solar system. The other planets conglomerated from vast fields of inert atomic dust, but the earth grew organically from the original plume of core energy; that is, from Sophia’s alive, animating, self-awareness, a pure torrent of galactic luminosity (Organic Light). IT belongs equally to the cosmos, the earth, and the human body, integral to our corporeal and spiritual make-up. It has been universally equated with goddess divinities or shaktis. Raising kundalini is the aim of yogic practices that have persisted for thousands of years. The serpentine power is also the form of divine energy-intelligence witnessed by countless people who have undergone ayahuasca trance.

    Veteran shamans assert that this serpentine power is an actual dynamism of nature, a supernatural creature to be encountered in the altered state of ayahuasca trance, over and over again. Sacha Mama, the great serpentine wisdom goddess of the Amazon, is identical with the Rainbow Serpent of the Australian Aborigines. Countless other examples and parallels of the "female spiritual principle" could be given.

    But note carefully: this telluric vision serpent is not a reptilian entity. A serpent is a reptile, but not every reptile is a serpent. An iguana, a salamander, a monitor lizard from Indonesia—these are reptiles, but not serpents. No one mistakes a lizard for a garden snake. The snake exhibits a particular legless morphology of the reptilian class of creatures, distinct and separate from other reptilians. But where in all the accounts and analyses of the reptilian agenda, does anyone make this obvious distinction?


    So far. No where.



    The Serpentine Wisdom Endowment
    Whatever the threat to humanity, real or imagined, coming from reptilians such as the scaly overlord of the Gnostic archons, the gift of the serpent power is clear. In all esoteric systems, eastern and western, the serpent is the agent and symbol of wisdom—Sophia

    RHIZOM RooterasURestock-xchangE
    Lokart gardensNoli me Tangere”For your eyesthe fact that they have moved the G8 meetings to Camp David indicates that G8 nations may be actually doing their most important meetings within the underground base near Camp David. FEMA alternate underground command center, off of Riggs Road, not far from Olney, Maryland, to the north of Washington, D.C. When I visited the place back in the 1990s, only a few shabby, almost dilapidated looking buildings were visible through the security fence.. A few vent pipes poked above the ground here and there. There were a few largish antennae and radio masts visible. The casual onlooker would probably just drive right by, unaware that the real activity was taking place below ground.
    .The White House has a very large, deeply buried facility underneath it. One of my close friends was taken down into this facility during the Lyndon B. Johnson administration in the 1960s. She entered an elevator in the White House and was escorted straight down. She believes that the elevator went down 17 levels. When the door opened underground she was escorted down a corridor that appeared to disappear to the vanishing point in the distance. Other doors and corridors opened off of that corridor. That was what Washington, D.C. was really like underground almost half a century ago. Site R, also known as Raven Rock or the Underground Pentagon, is about 6 miles north-northeast of the Camp David facility, not far from the Maryland-Pennsylvania state line. This enormous facility is the alternate underground command center for the Pentagon. http://exopolitics.blogs.com/.a/6a00d8341c73dd53ef0168e7a5dd04970c-800wi

    "On February 3, 2012 late in the evening, after having received a telepathic communication from the Commander of the primary Andromeda Council biosphere - , an advanced notice report of two (2/too) strategic Reptilian undersea bases that remained to be taken out & destroyed."My report of that evening stated that the first of the two remaining undersea bases would be located in the Indian Ocean/Bay of Bengal area with the finding of an extensive, massive undersea base located & beginning on the top portion of “pencil” shaped, north/south oriented undersea land ridge, a very unnatural-looking undersea land ridge. "The beginning of this base is marked by the white “box” with the cross hairs in the middle. It runs the full length of the ‘pencil’ – north to south."Article continues at:
    http://exopolitics.blogs.com/files/reptilian-undersea-base-destroyed---5.1-quake-south-east-bay-of-bengal.pdf Transverbal Conflict Work > a rainbow in your Eye * Tetralemma Constellations* Solution Geometric Interviewing* SySt-Miniature 'Change of perspectives'* SySt-Minaiature 'Removal of a context overlap' [youtube]>[/youtube] There’s a curious thing going on with the “two earths” theory too…that earth is splitting off and those with the higher vibrations will go with the new earth, while those who still need this 3D duality reality will stay with the old earth. Delores Cannon explains this pretty well if you want to explore the idea further…so does CA






    As he massaged his cheeks Wilder listened to the air humming erratically in…… the High Rise…..

    7/Preparations for Departure
    High above, on the 40th floor, the first two residents were preparing to
    leave.
    All day Anthony Royal and his wife had been packing. After lunch in the
    deserted restaurant on the 35th floor they returned to their apartment, where
    Royal spent what he knew would be his last hours in the high-rise closing
    down his design studio. In no hurry to leave, now that the moment had come for
    them to abandon the building, Royal deliberately took his time over this last
    ritual task.
    The air-conditioning had ceased to function, and the absence of its vague
    familiar hum -- once a source of minor irritation -- made Royal restless. However reluctantly, he was now forced to recognize what he had been trying to repress for the past month, despite the evidence of his eyes. This huge building he had helped to design was moribund, its vital functions fading one by one -- the
    water-pressure falling as the pumps faltered, the electrical sub-stations on
    each floor switching themselves off, the elevators stranded in their shafts.
    As if in sympathy, the old injuries to his legs and back had begun to keen
    again. Royal leaned against his drawing-stand, feeling the pain radiate
    upwards from his knees into his groin.

    Gripping the chromium cane, he left the studio and moved among the tables and
    armchairs in the drawing-room, each shrouded in its dust-sheet. In the year
    since his accident he had found that constant exercise alone held back the
    pain, and he missed the games of squash with Robert Laing.
    Like his own physicians, Laing had told him that the injuries sustained in
    car-crashes took a great deal of time to heal, but Royal recently had begun to
    suspect that these wounds were playing a devious role of their own.
    The three suitcases he had packed that morning stood ready in the hall. Royal
    stared down at them, for a moment hoping that they belonged to someone else.
    The cases had never been used, and the prominent part they would soon play in
    his personal Dunkirk only rubbed in the humiliation.
    Royal returned to the studio and continued to take down the architectural
    drawings and design studies pinned to the walls. This small office in a
    converted bedroom he had used for his work on the development project, and the
    collection of books and blueprints, photographs and drawing-boards, originally
    intended to give a sense of purpose to his convalescence, had soon become a
    kind of private museum. The majority of the plans and design studies had been
    superseded by his colleagues after the accident, but in a strange way these
    old frontal elevations of the concert-hall and television studios, like the
    photograph of himself standing on the roof of the high-rise on hand-over day,
    described a more real world than the building which he was now about to
    abandon.


    The decision to leave their apartment, already postponed for too long, had
    been difficult to take. For all his professional identification with the
    high-rise as one of its architects, Royal's contribution had been minor, but
    sadly for him had concerned those very sections which had borne the brunt of
    the residents' hostility -- the 10th-floor concourse, the junior school, the
    observation roof with its children's sculpture-garden, and the furnishing and
    design of the elevator lobbies. Royal had gone to immense care in the choice
    of wall surfaces, now covered by thousands of aerosolled obscenities. It was
    stupid of him, perhaps, but it was difficult not to take them personally,
    particularly as he was only too aware of his neighbours' hostility towards him
    -- the chromium cane and white alsatian were no longer theatrical props.


    In principle, the mutiny of these well-to-do professional people against the
    building they had collectively purchased was no different from the dozens of
    well-documented revolts by working-class tenants against municipal tower-blocks that had taken place at frequent intervals during the post-war years. But once again Royal had found himself reacting personally to these acts of vandalism. The breakdown of the building as a social structure was a rebellion against himself, so much so that in the early days after the jeweller's unexplained death he expected to be physically attacked.
    Later, however, the collapse of the high-rise began to strengthen his will to
    win through.


    The testing of the building he had helped to design was a testing of himself.

    Above all, he became aware that a new social order was beginning to emerge
    around him. Royal was certain that a rigid hierarchy of some kind was the key
    to the elusive success of these huge buildings. As he often pointed out to
    Anne, office blocks containing as many as thirty thousand workers functioned
    smoothly for decades thanks to a social hierarchy as rigid and as formalized
    as an anthill's, with an incidence of crime, social unrest, and petty
    misdemeanours that was virtually nil.
    -The confused but unmistakable emergence of this new social order -- apparently based on small tribal enclaves --fascinated Royal. To begin with, he had been determined to stay on, come what may and whatever the hostility directed against him, in the hope of acting as its midwife.
    In fact, this alone had stopped him from notifying his former colleagues of the mounting chaos within the building. As he told himself repeatedly, the present breakdown of the high-rise might well mark its success rather than its failure.

    Without realizing it, he had given these people a means of escaping into a new life, and a pattern of social organization that would become the paradigm of all future high-rise blocks.
    But these dreams of helping the two thousand residents towards their new
    Jerusalem meant nothing to Anne. As the air-conditioning and electricity
    supply began to fail, and it became dangerous to move unaccompanied around the
    building, she told Royal that they were leaving.
    Playing on Royal's concern for her, and his own feelings of guilt about the
    breakdown of the high-rise, she soon persuaded him that they must go.

    Curious to see how she was getting on with her packing, Royal walked into his
    wife's bedroom. Two wardrobe trunks, and a selection of small and large
    suitcases, jewellery boxes and vanity cases lay open on the floor and
    dressing-table like a luggage store display. Anne was packing, or unpacking,
    one of the cases in front of the dressing-table mirror. Recently, Royal had
    noticed that she deliberately surrounded herself with mirrors, as if this
    replication of herself gave her some kind of security. Anne had always taken
    for granted a naturally deferential world, and the last few weeks, even in the
    comparative safety of this penthouse apartment, she had found more and more
    trying. The childlike strains in her character had begun to come out again, as
    if she was suiting her behaviour to the over-extended mad-hatter's tea-party
    that she had been forced to attend like a reluctant Alice. The journey down to
    the 35th-floor restaurant had become a daily ordeal, and only the prospect of
    leaving the apartment building for good had kept her going.
    She stood up and embraced Royal. As usual, without thinking, she touched the scars on his forehead with her lips, as if trying to read a digest of the twenty-five years that separated them, a key to that part of Royal's life she had never known.

    As he recovered from the accident, sitting in the windows of the penthouse or exercising on the callisthenics machine, he had noticed how much his wounds had intrigued her.
    "What a mess." She gazed down hopefully at the jumble of suitcases. "I'll be
    about an hour-- have you called the taxi?"

    "We'll need at least two. They refuse to wait now -- there's no point in
    calling them until we're on the doorstep."
    Both their own cars, parked in the line nearest the building, had been damaged
    y the tenants below, their windscreens knocked out by falling bottles.
    Anne returned to her packing. "The important thing is that we're going. We
    should have left a month ago when I wanted to. Why anyone stays on here I
    can't imagine."
    "Anne, we're _leaving_ . . ."
    "At last -- and why has no one called the police? Or complained to the
    owners?"
    "We are the owners." Royal turned his head away from her, his smile of
    affection stiffening. Through the windows he watched the light fading across
    the curtain-walling of the nearby high-rises. Inevitably, he had always taken
    Anne's criticisms as a comment on himself.


    As Royal knew now, his young wife would never be happy in the special
    atmosphere of the high-rise. The only daughter of a provincial industrialist,
    she had been brought up in the insulated world of a large country house, a
    finicky copy of a Loire chateau maintained by a staff of servants in the
    full-blown nineteenth-century manner. In the apartment building, by contrast,
    the servants who waited on her were an invisible army of thermostats and
    humidity sensors, computerized elevator route-switches and over-riders,
    playing their parts in a far more sophisticated and abstract version of the
    master-servant relationship. However, in Anne's world it was not only
    necessary for work to be done, but be seen to be done. The steady breakdown of
    the building's services, and the confrontation between the rival groups of
    tenants, had been too much for her, playing on her huge sense of insecurity,
    all her long-ingrained upper-class uncertainties about maintaining her
    superior place in the world. The present troubles in the apartment block had
    exposed these mercilessly. When he had first met her, Royal had taken for
    granted her absolute self-confidence, but in fact the reverse was true -- far
    from being sure of herself, Anne needed constantly to re-establish her
    position on the top rung of the ladder. By comparison, the professional people
    around her, who had achieved everything as a result of their own talents, were
    models of self-assurance.

    When they first moved into the high-rise as its first tenants, they had both
    intended the apartment to be no more than _a pied à terre_, conveniently close
    to Royal's work on the development project. As soon as they found a house in
    London they would leave. But Royal noticed that he continued to postpone any
    decision to move out. He was intrigued by life in this vertical township, and
    by the kind of people attracted to its smooth functionalism. As the first
    tenant, and owner of the best and highest apartment, he felt himself to be
    lord of the manor -- borrowing a phrase he disliked from Anne's rule book. His
    sense of physical superiority as a sometime amateur tennis champion -- a minor
    hard-courts title, though no less impressive for that -- had inevitably
    slackened with the passage of years, but in a way had been rekindled by the
    presence of so many people directly below him, on the shoulders of whose far
    more modest dwellings his own rested securely.


    Last edited by cosmicnight13 on Fri Apr 20, 2012 3:51 pm; edited 1 time in total
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    word-press: not fan of footie

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Fri Apr 20, 2012 2:05 pm

    ….so until the whole word-press admin is Xchanged (due to illoyalty of the heart),

    here a preview from comment on Crystal sun kin 221 at (21:49:25) of http://2013andthemysteryqueen.com/

    Think beyond your present dreams, to the dreams you will have once they've already come true. Beee Uuu Ti Ful….Tmq….becoming reSponSensible for all of us kin.

    ThnX nein/three……gReAtful…only repetition works with me…… and sounds like the same old groove. again with you -good to see & feel


    Same here : euRo-liège, Jesterday, semi finals: …

    barcelona plays 846 passes | had a ball possession of unbelievable 72 % = 0 goal
    =
    meaning chelsea played 228 | of only lol 28 % = 1 goal

    while toooday «El Loco kommt!», Marcelo Bielsa derBesessene, nach Lissa Bon
    Ib åe Rºan Duell … … -all still in deep dark Kat-Hole-Icistic (respective.other.cult-) BS ... going on making no sense in electing Popes who are almost dead and still relying on the ideals of the 1950s."
    but… the autonomic basque " lost 1:2
    [youtube] [/youtube]
    can'T believe you…n ..all my trying 's up...

    … … from malACHY's list the GRrrree M AnaL is Hi (Peter the Roman Green) "In extreme persecution, the seat of the Hohli Roman Church will be occupied by Peter the Roman, who will feed the sheep through many tribulations, at the term of which the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the formidable Judge will judge the people. The End." fuck'm good nigh'†∞“∞…143

    http://www.divinecosmos.com/start-here/davids-blog/1035-divineintervention1

    "What do you mean? What is a Vortex?" A Vortex is
    a vibrational state of being that is a precursor of all positive motion forward
    of all that is. It's like, encapsulated, condensed, straight-up Source. It's
    pure positive energy. It's the holding tank. It's the anchor. It's the
    touchstone. It's the place where all dreams and wishes and hopes are held until
    we find vibrational alignment with them. It's the eternal pool of wellbeing to
    which each of us have added mightily along the path of our physical experience.
    ~Abraham-Hicks, San Diego,
    CA, 9 19 0
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    lol

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Mon Apr 23, 2012 3:22 pm

    4 snake kin 225

    it13 (08:43:08) :
    Your comment is awaiting moderation





    san / t / strahl ∞ hula HoN’ / ey / beé presents:

    @ boschbar, zürich


    – living without confliCHts”: audiovisual performance by insomania
    utopia & santstrahl. support: nik!, soult, shift & tabnigh…
    - this might seem risky to you. but when the tape features spherical
    loop-based post-shoegaze it’s really just obvious to publish a fitting
    short film on DvvD.
    you come?

    or this…

    http://www.angelfire.com/theforce/gnosis/lecturesenglish/The_Psychological_Thought.pdf


    love for you kin night143
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    jesterday way was...

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Sat Apr 28, 2012 4:49 pm

    Kin 229

    atone ˘ ∞ ˘ Galactic

    tells us
    Harmonize in order to Purify
    I Model Flow
    I seal the process of universal water
    With the Galactic tone of Integrity
    I am guided by the power of Space


    Ø click to go up –Solar “Cousin”…and feel no need to produce a forsetzungsroman, but sth more of a joUR n'Ey on multiple zuvuya'pah-waysThrutoSpace' adventU.R / i /nñG…e

    while down here -or -there…
    the ∏ˆ¬ U † O -KraTIC anT/i JUN(20.00CeT)URe… on The Meaning of the beast . written on their forehead . 3rd EYE… .666 ….12:60…incl romanProgrAmming /ladygagaSound .nd (bitchFiring/Beachflyering)
    ….goes on

    Galactic moon is signa tURe of jMorrison, ozzyOsbourne,
    BingCrosby and http://www.spacestationplaza.net/event.php?evid=87093



    *Time Matrix*=V.5, H.4=(6)



    (Space)=(7)
    *Space Matrix*=V.18,H.19=(229)(Synchronic)=(17)



    (Time)=(51)
    *G.A.P.*Galactic Signature of Madame Blavatsky*




    (Synchronic)=(430)
    Feeling is better than thinking lol, even so some more clarification attempts 'on base'sscracklings….


    Space multplied by time is awareness multiplied by time
    the polarity of "inherent awareness" is time - space

    whose product is "It Moves"…intelligently, meaning Active Intelligence, sparkling brew and part of the Unspeakable.

    While space is the product of perceiving the Purpose of life, time is the product of perceiving the process of life. All manifestation is product of INTENT thru processing pURpose.

    This is LEFT side awareness which makes feelings. Until it is possible to switch in'nout leftside awareness deliberately, look for and note any feelings which come up as a result of experience. … information appears as an inkling of what kind of feeling one is looking for in an experience.
    This implies naturally: the rational mind is of no use at all.



    Both humanity and indeed the physical earth require and petition this crystalline up-shift reformation in order to transcend the duality dimensional paradigm that would otherwise entomb them in the cyclic duplicity of descending polarity juxtaposition.

    The twelfth dimensional opening of the Solar Eclipse of May 2012 will be the most prolific synthesis of 12th dimensional energy to eventuate on earth since the Golden Age of Atlantis, some 35,000 years ago
    regain the enhanced template that enables you to transmigrate the Torus of realities, and as such reverse the spin of the spiral, by anti-spin of the Life Vortex .
    The Cosmic Trigger is the enabler, changing the matrix. It is not haphazard, it is not circumstantial, but deliberate of Divine Creatorship in a logic beyond even your imagination. It is beautiful beyond comprehension
    Accordingly as the duality planet recalibrates itself into the Crystalline Field it will also reshape the experience of mankind, of visible and invisible forces of nature and that of the face of the Earth itself.

    Every astrological pattern , every date of Eclipse, Solstice , Equinox and Lunar Phase is extremely powerful in 2012. These are being exponentially amplified by Coronal Mass Ejections, Solar Winds.The intensives will ebb & flow, in a continual momentous pattern, gaining in inertia through the 12-12-12, the 12th Wave of the Ascension. It is indeed an auspicious time.something akin to a miniature Saturn Return ! But keep in mind, the two steps forward will occur. the one back, too.

    09:30 [youtube][/youtube]


    13:29 ¿nooothing todaypeculiarly?

    15. Never teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig. (Heinlein)

    16. Never let a mechanical device know you are in a hurry. (Murphy)

    18:54 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0k7bGzElE20&feature=youtu.be

    when i see numbers as 144 and 441 i immediately see 9 as sovereign number aware of the trinity cubic 3×3 and its ally 3x3x3 27

    …It is the collective consciousness of humanity that dominates as negativity that is going on in the world now. It only appears that someone is responsible for what appears as a conspiracy of negative events. In reality there is no one in charge, but rather the collective, unorganized negativity and fear of millions of individuals hit the fan. The efforts of those who are of like-mindedness, of like-intention and focus can bring your world into light and life and raise the consciousness of all human-kind. These are the ones who are breaking apart negative global consciousness because it is unorganized. It is very powerful to do this in concert at the same time. and it multiplies your power many times over. Whether you are an individual or a whole group, you can apply your energies to the focus of the merkabah to direct its energy to where this enlightenment is needed.

    and while breathing...
    144 = 9×16 x per/second/hour/month

    The legal method of vagal stimulation is holotropic breathing,
    http://www.holotropic.com

    Other techniques to increase the percentage of brain use are either
    considered XXX, or insane, some of which are mentioned in "The Adventure of Self
    Discovery" by Dr. Stanislav Grof, where it is also explained that there are
    three stages: perinatal matrix one, which is euphoric, perinatal matrix two,
    which is knowledgeable & powerful, and, perinatal matrix three is 50%, or
    greater, percentage of brain use from which we received the legends of Hell.
    Actually the percentages of brain use from 11% on have been called the
    Underworld, and perinatal matrix two can be quite ugly and terrifying. And,
    brain use from 11% on is professionally defined by psychiatry to be psychosis. I
    have gotten quite outspoken about very easy, but dangerous, techniques
    elsewhere. Just Google "lahunken" and see for yourself.

    If the following variables existed in a mathematical equation:

    X = The end result in mind

    Y = Manifestation
    
H = Hows (the cursed hows)
    
A = Action in the general direction of the end result

    Please choose the equation that will make the most happen in your life, the fastest, with the least stress:
    A. The End Result + Hows + Action = Manifestation
    
B. Manifestation + The End Result + Action = Hows

    C. The End Result + Action = Hows + Manifestation

    D. Action + Hows + Manifestation = The End Result

    E. Eats Shoots + Leaves = Panda Energy


    You may rest your hand,


    let The Universe in


    You can go from timeline to timeline doing miracles, but, on each timeline
    the people don't know what happened to you on the previous timelines, therefore,
    if you discuss your previous experiences, people will think you are crazy, and
    you could get in trouble. Just enjoy your multimillion dollar lottery winnings.
    In this apocalypse of the mind the punitive figure wells up as if out of the bowels of the opera stage, and this phantasmagoria is acted out on a global scale. These men may be mad enough to believe they are creating a ‘psychocivilised world order”.

    For anyone who has studied damaged children, it is more resonant of the reenactment from the unconscious, reinforced by a life devoid of the capacity for empathic identification, of the obscenities of the abused and abusing child in the savage nursery. Other people -which were to them like Action Man toys to be dismembered, or Barbie Dolls to be obscenely defiled - become as meaningless in their humanity as pixillated dots on a screen.

    "“This is why the Federal Reserve had to create 26 trillion dollars’ worth of new money, in the public economy, after the 2008 collapse.

    THIS IS RIDICULOUS


    This is ridiculous. It is a bubble. It was meant to be that way.

    The plan, all along, was twofold. First of all, it would buy the allegiance of Cabal members and make them feel like they were the Gods of earth. Literally, each one of them would be vastly more “loaded” than the wealthiest people in the public economy.

    Secondly, any good banker could do the numbers and figure out what this really is. A Ponzi scheme. That was always part of the plan.

    Despite the impressive power of having nearly two and a half million metric tons of gold “on deposit,” supposedly as collateral, in reality the occult economy — and its fantastic bank balances — was, is and always will be the greatest Ponzi scheme on earth.

    It was built to be that way. It was designed, from its inception, to destroy the public economy beyond repair. Then, in the aftermath, a global Luciferian dictatorship would be installed.

    These people are absolutely serious. This plan is very real. I didn’t learn about the confiscated gold until fairly recently — initially by interviewing Benjamin Fulford last November.

    THE COLLATERAL ACCOUNTS

    The plan for mass arrests, discussed by Drake and others, does involve the restoration of the United States Constitution to its full lawful status.

    It also requires that the confiscated gold, and the occult economy built off of it, be fully revealed to the world. Fulford has been discussing this aspect of the plan, to varying degrees, for years now.

    The insider name for the confiscated gold is the Global Collateral Accounts. 85 percent of this gold belonged to Asian countries.

    The Federal Reserve stole this gold by vastly lying to its owners.

    The owners were told that the public could not know about the gold. It was much too dangerous. It could collapse the world’s economies and lead to unprecedented financial terrorism.

    The gold would all be hidden away, and secretly used as collateral for the global economy. All the insiders would know it was there, but everyone else would be kept in the dark.

    The numbers would not add up in the public economy. The amount of money being printed would not be appropriately backed by solid assets. Secretly, the Collateral Accounts would have more than enough equity to back up whatever was printed.

    [ PEACE AND PROSPERITY

    The Asians and all other countries were told that this would usher in a new era of peace and prosperity.

    At least 60 percent of all the money created from the Collateral Accounts would go into humanitarian relief programs.

    These programs would eliminate poverty and give everyone in the world a healthy lifestyle — running water, sanitation, good food and a decent place to live, at the very least.

    Only a very small number of countries were aware of the true nature of the plan.

    Once they secured control of the financial system, through the BIS, they used lethal force to stop anyone from speaking out.

    THE FEDERAL RESERVE BONDS

    Those who held the original gold, such as the Asian countries, needed to have something offered to them in exchange for what they handed over.

    As a result, they have been given a continuous supply of Federal Reserve bonds — issued by any one of twelve Federal Reserve banks in the US — as collateral.

    As the price of gold goes up, more bonds are issued — so they always have an equivalent dollar value, in bonds, to the gold they originally put on “deposit” with the Federal Reserve / BIS.

    “AS GOOD AS CASH?”

    Technically, these bonds serve as legal tender. They are United States Federal Reserve Notes, as good as cash.

    However, there are thousands of boxes of these bonds in existence — each of which can contain billions or even trillions of dollars’ worth of bonds.

    Obviously, if these bonds were cashed, it would destroy the world’s economy. That was always the plan. Chaos was intended all along.

    The bonds, boxes and chests were deliberately made with spelling and grammatical errors in them, so that if anyone did try to cash these bonds, they could be apprehended for counterfeiting and forgery.

    Nonetheless, there is an abundance of documentation that these bonds are very real. Extensive photographic proof is provided in my main investigative work on this subject, Financial Tyranny.

    Furthermore, the gold is very real. It’s sitting there. It can all be exposed once the threat of lethal force is eliminated.

    If this were to ever actually happen, the whole game would collapse. This much gold is not supposed to exist, anywhere — but it does.

    THE GREATEST BANK ROBBERY IN HUMAN HISTORY

    This was the greatest bank-robbery in human history. It has still not been exposed on a mass public level. I have worked tirelessly to break this story and give it full documentation.

    There are nearly 100 different “depositories” where vast amounts of gold are stored. Most of them are in Southeast Asia. Indonesia has a large number of them, as does the Philippines.

    The gold was not moved very far from where it was originally confiscated. Every bar of gold in every facility is rigorously cataloged, documented and “deposited” within the Global Collateral Accounts.

    The Federal Reserve’s charter for these accounts expired in 1999.

    And now, at this point, I will hand it over to Neil Keenan — who ended up being granted signatory control of the Collateral Accounts by their original heirs.

    All the legal documentation is there to support this. I have seen it myself. Keenan has cooperated with Fulford for some time, and is a member of what..
    23. When Alexander Pope says, "Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always To be Blest," he does not mean that there is always hope. And there is not always hope.
    [/size]


    transunit13 14.04.12 14:15 called, in the language of coherent light, even if…… The energy of the final wave of the Cosmic Trigger is Feminine in resonance.

    Carry a tuning fork of F# (Finitial downloads of the final wave surge occurs on the May 20 'Ring of Fire' Solar Eclipse of 2012, the latter surge on the triple date frequencial portal of the 12-12-12.) and a crystal in your pocket. Crystals are rightly called “windows of Light,” as patterning and dimensional-transmitting doorways from the kinetic world of Light radiation down through the more apparently static material world of form—and the reverse.
    Crystals can amplify and project thought forms; facilitate interdimensional communication; operate as tuning forks at specific frequencies to key individuals and their environments to desired light harmonics.



    in lak'ech cosmic night


    ...while in the highRise
    Even after his accident, when he had been forced to sell out his partnership
    and retreat to a wheelchair in the penthouse, he had felt this sense of
    renewed physical authority. During the months of convalescence, as his wounds
    healed and his body grew stronger, each of the new tenants in some way seemed
    identified with his strengthening muscles and sinews, his quickening reflexes,
    each one bringing his invisible tribute to Royal's wellbeing.
    For Anne, by contrast, the continued flow of new arrivals puzzled and
    irritated her. She had enjoyed the apartment when they were alone in the
    high-rise, taking it for granted that no one else would appear. She rode the
    elevators as if they were the grandly upholstered gondolas of a private
    funicular, swam alone in the undisturbed waters of the two swimming-pools, and
    strolled about the shopping concourse as if visiting her own personal bank,
    hairdresser and supermarket. By the time that the last of the two thousand
    residents had appeared and taken their place below, Anne was impatient to
    move.
    But Royal was drawn to his new neighbours, exemplars beyond anything he had
    previously imagined of the puritan work ethic. In turn, he knew from Anne that
    his neighbours found him a puzzling and aloof figure, an automobile-crash
    casualty in his wheelchair living on the roof of the high-rise in a casual
    ménage with a rich young wife half his age whom he was happy to see taken out
    by other men. Despite this symbolic emasculation, Royal was still regarded in
    some way as having the key to the building. His scarred forehead and chromium
    cane, the white jacket which he affected and wore like a target, together
    seemed to be the elements of a code that concealed the real relationship
    between the architect of this huge building and its uneasy tenants. Even
    Anne's always imminent promiscuities were part of this same system of ironies,
    appealing to
    Royal's liking for the "game" situation where one could risk everything and
    lose nothing.
    The effect of all this on his neighbours interested Royal, and particularly on
    those mavericks such as Richard Wilder, who would set out to climb Everest
    equipped with nothing more than a sense of irritation that the mountain was
    larger than himself, or Dr Laing, staring out all day from his balcony under
    the fond impression that he was totally detached from the high-rise, when in
    fact he was probably its most true tenant. At least Laing knew his place and
    kept to it;
    three nights earlier they had been forced to give Wilder a short sharp lesson.
    Thinking about Wilder's intrusion -- only one in a series of attempts by
    people below to break into the top-floor apartments -- Royal left the bedroom
    and checked the bolts on the front door.
    [youtube].[/youtube]
    Anne waited while he stood in the deserted corridor. There was a continuous
    sullen murmur from the lower levels carried up the elevator shafts. She
    pointed to Royal's three suitcases.
    "Is that all you're taking?"
    "For the time being. I'll come back for anything else."
    "Come back? Why should you want to? Perhaps you'd rather stay?"
    To himself, rather than to his wife, Royal remarked, "First to arrive, last to
    leave . .
    ."
    "Is that a joke?"
    "Of _course_ not."
    Anne placed a hand on his chest, as if searching for an old wound. "It's
    really all over, you know. I hate to say it, but this place hasn't worked."
    "Perhaps not . . ." Royal took her commiseration with a strong dose of salt.
    Without realizing it, Anne often played on his sense of failure, frightened by
    Royal's new resolve to prove himself, this conviction that the building might
    succeed after all. In addition, their neighbours had accepted him a little too
    readily as their leader. His partnership in the consortium had been largely
    paid for by the commissions her father had steered his way, a fact
    Anne had never let him forget, not to humble Royal so much as to prove her own
    value to him. The point was made, though. He had come up in the world, all
    right, in too many senses of the term. In an insane way, his accident might
    have been an attempt to break out of the trap.
    But all this belonged to the past now. As Royal knew, they were leaving just
    in time.

    During the last few days life in the high-rise had become impossible. For the
    first time the top-floor residents were directly involved. The erosion of everything continued, a slow psychological avalanche that was carrying them downwards.

    Superficially, life in the apartment building was normal enough -- most of the
    residents left for their offices each day, the supermarket was still open, the
    bank and hair-dressing salon functioned as usual. Nonetheless, the real
    internal atmosphere was that of three uneasily coexisting armed camps. A
    complete hardening of positions had taken place, and there was now almost no
    contact between the upper, middle and lower groups. During the early part of
    the day it was possible to move freely around the building, but as the afternoon proceeded this became increasingly difficult.
    By dusk any movement was impossible. The bank and supermarket closed at three o'clock. The junior school had moved from its vandalized classrooms to two apartments on the 7th floor. Few children were ever seen above the 10th floor, let alone in the sculpture-garden on the roof which Royal had designed for them with so much care.
    The 10th-floor swimming-pool was a half-empty pit of yellowing water and
    floating debris. One of the squash courts had been locked, and the other three
    were filled with garbage and broken classroom furniture. Of the twenty
    elevators in the building, three were permanently out of order, and by evening
    the remainder had become the private transit lines of the rival groups who
    could seize them. Five floors were without electricity. At night the dark
    bands stretched across the face of the high-rise like dead strata in a fading
    brain.
    Fortunately for Royal and his neighbours, conditions in the upper section of
    the building had yet to decline so steeply. The restaurant had discontinued
    its evening service, but a limited luncheon was available each day during the
    few hours when the small staff could freely enter and leave. However, the two
    waiters had already gone, and Royal guessed that the chef and his wife would
    soon follow. The swimming-pool on the 35th floor was usable, but the level had
    fallen, and the water supply, like that to their own apartment, was dependent
    on the vagaries of the roof tanks and electric pumps.
    From the drawing-room windows Royal looked down into the parking-lot. Many of
    the cars had not been moved for weeks -- windscreens broken by falling
    bottles, cabins filled with garbage, they sat on flattening tyres, surrounded
    by a sea of rubbish that spread outwards around the building like an enlarging
    stain.

    This visible index of the block's decline at the same time measured the extent
    to which its tenants accepted this process of erosion. At times Royal
    suspected that his neighbours unconsciously hoped that everything would
    decline even further. Royal had noticed that the manager's office was no
    longer besieged by indignant residents. Even his own top-floor neighbours, who
    in the early days had been only too quick to complain about everything, now
    never criticized the building. In the absence of the manager -- still lying in
    a state of mental collapse in his ground-floor apartment -- his dwindling
    staff of two (the wives of a dubbing-mixer on the 2nd floor and a first
    violinist on the 3rd) sat stoically at their desks in the entrance lobby,
    oblivious of the deterioration going on apace over their heads.
    What interested Royal was the way in which the residents had become
    exaggeratedly crude in their response to the apartment building, deliberately
    abusing the elevators and air-conditioning systems, over-straining the power
    supply. This carelessness about their own convenience reflected a shuffling of
    mental priorities, and perhaps the emergence of the new social and
    psychological order for which Royal was waiting. He remembered the attack on
    Wilder, who had laughed happily as the group of paediatricians and academics
    had flailed away at him with their dumb-bells like a troupe of demented
    gymnasts. Royal had found the episode grotesque, but he guessed that in some
    obscure way Wilder had been glad to be flung half-conscious into an elevator.



    Royal strolled around the shrouded furniture. He raised his stick and slashed
    at the stale air with the same stroke he had used against Wilder. At any
    moment a battalion of police would arrive and cart them all off to the nearest
    jail. Or would they? What played straight into the residents' hands was the
    remarkably self-contained nature of the high-rise, a self-administered enclave
    within the larger private domain of the development project. The manager and
    his staff, the personnel who manned the supermarket, bank and hairdressing
    salon, were all residents of the apartment building; the few outsiders had
    left or been sacked. The engineers who serviced the building did so on
    instructions from the manager, and clearly none had been issued. They might
    even have been told to stay away -- no garbage-collection vehicle had called
    for several days, and a large number of the chutes were blocked.
    Despite the growing chaos around them, the residents showed less interest in
    the external world. Bales of un-sorted mail lay about in the ground-floor
    lobbies. As for the debris scattered around the high-rise, the broken bottles
    and cans, these were barely noticeable from the ground.
    Even the damaged cars were to some extent concealed by the piles of building
    materials, wooden forms and sand-pits that had yet to be cleared away.
    Besides, as part of that unconscious conspiracy to shut out the external
    world, no visitors came to the high-rise. He and Anne had invited none of
    their friends to the apartment for months.
    Royal watched his wife move about vaguely in her bedroom. Jane Sheridan,
    Anne's closest friend, had called in and was helping her to pack. The two
    women were transferring a line of evening gowns from the wardrobe racks to the
    trunks, and at the same time returning unwanted shirts and trousers from the
    suitcases back to the shelves. For all the activity it was uncertain whether
    they were packing on the eve of departure or unpacking on arrival.


    "Anne -- are you coming or going?" Royal asked. "We hardly stand a chance of
    making it tonight." Anne gestured helplessly at the half-filled cases.
    "It's the air-conditioning -- I can't think."
    "You won't get out now even if you want to," Jane told her. "We're marooned
    here, as far as I can see. All the elevators have been commandeered by other
    floors." "What? Did you hear that?" Anne stared angrily at Royal, as if his faulty
    design of the elevator lobbies was directly responsible for these acts of
    piracy. "All right, we'll leave first thing tomorrow. What about food? The
    restaurant will be shut."
    They had never eaten in the apartment -- Anne's gesture of contempt for her
    neighbours'endless preparation of elaborate meals. The only food in the refrigerator was the dog's. Royal stared at himself in the mirror, adjusting his white jacket. In the fading light his reflection had an almost spectral vibrancy, making him look like an illuminated corpse. "We'll think of something." A curious answer, he realized, implying that there were other sources of food than the supermarket.

    He looked down at Jane Sheridan's plump figure. Seeing Royal's subdued
    expression, she was smiling reassuringly at him. Royal had taken on the task
    of looking after this amiable young woman since the death of her Afghan.
    "The elevators may be free in an hour or so," he told them. "We'll go down to
    the supermarket." Thinking of the alsatian -- presumably asleep on his bed in
    the penthouse-he decided to exercise it on the roof.

    Anne had begun to empty the half-filled suitcases. She seemed barely aware of
    what she was doing, as if a large part of her mind had been switched off. For
    all her complaints, she had never telephoned the building manager herself.
    Perhaps she felt this was beneath her, but nor had she mentioned the smallest
    criticism to any of their friends in the world beyond the apartment building.
    Thinking about this, Royal noticed that the plug of her bedside telephone had
    been pulled from its socket, and the cable neatly wrapped around the receiver.
    As he walked around the apartment before going to search for the dog, he saw
    that the three other external telephones, in the hall, drawing-room and
    kitchen, had also been disconnected. Royal realized why they had received no
    outside calls during the previous week, and felt a distinct sense of security
    at knowing that they would receive none in the future. Already he guessed
    that, for all their expressed intentions, they would not be leaving either the
    following morning or any other.
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    {∞. predatory birds

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Wed May 02, 2012 3:45 pm

    Eye see your true colors shining thru :) dead as a T hu B an can beeee on an -or G on-monitored sun …




    BIG Time! the fiction is BUSTED
    Space, time, matter, energy and biological life may be the result of a Source Field that is conscious and alive in its own unique way -
    on a scale far too vast for the finite mind to fathom. the geometrical structure of
    the vacuum - the underlying structure of space and time -- is a three-dimensional fractal, a double star tetrahedron. Since many a
    lost antediluvian civilizations possessed this knowledge and used it as the basis for a science that, in mushroom mycelium ways comprises Cosmic Consciousness -with the overlapping information-sharing systems consisting in the Internet, the networked neurons in the brain, and the computer modelled sense of dark matter -Intelligence out there in the universe 's.
    and a sort of evolutionary change can be expected in the 2011-13 period as being accompanying the completion of a 25,920 years cycle of the precession of the equinoxes, and the 60 million year and 265 million year cycles for the disappearance of old species and sudden appearance of new species.

    Knowing that Earth is a sentient, conscious life herself and respecting all of her life forms is love.


    I've lost my connection.
    I'll be back in a little while.
    I'm going to go off to myself and realign with the good feeling person
    that I really am. And when I find it, I'll be back."

    i didnt want this to become the outcome
    the witch who controls time, my enemy .
    because she controlled my fate
    but i became Fates (utilizing the overall confusion)
    to battle you
    gravity yes
    who needs it
    appleseed
    is me or him
    you have to choose
    my ideal world or his rule as absolute prince
    it encapsulated me
    – 6-around-1 with a seventh point in the center and a hidden eighth point behindin
    higher archateXture

    it t'raped me in the box
    or both –Tao of Doom -
    you are the inigmatic G is force on earth: i see sound…like that …but in color…like this picture above
    do you see?
    this is why i cant kill her
    she is my eyes
    my ears
    my everything

    Be like the rays of the sun i guess keep expanding outwards - -go
    further than where we were

    before
    beyond the rim
    the rift
    beyond the falceness

    And then do it. And your children will witness the disconnected you who left the room and the
    reconnected you who resumed; and that's the best thing in the world that you can give to anyone as an example of how WONDERFUL you feel in alignment as compared to how NOT wonderful you feel when

    you're out of alignment. ~Abe,

    If BigLogosBrother is wat ching us - c on Standly then where in hell are all those sister -loga's?

    CoRRECTION… -…’Space’Times’ <> thrive
    off the hijacked bi-pOlar vesica-piesces cOde
    Infiltrated ‘binary’Code’Reverse’
    ConsciOusness pOlarity split -third code left out.

    The curved brushstroke into a sphere or ball extends for thousands of miles and then bends; meets as one giant spheroid, so does CurVED SPACE. ALL of space become an ATOM 'singularityFractal ; a 'quanta' or particle of a much, much larger world…etc.
    Somewhere it struck me as I dug into the ground with a shovel planting a tomato garden. With every plunge into the dirt, I wondered, 'what was it I was digging into?' And the outrageous answer bounced back, I'm digging into a freaking ATOM! I was shocked; more accurately, our ELECTRON orbits a PROTON (sun).


    Einstein had to suspect the truth with his title or Holy Grail called the 'Unified Field' as it applies to atomic particles and cosmic bodies. Today, it is vogue to dispute Einstein. But, the basic and true principles of Relativity hit us everyday with every move we make.



    .......For a second, there was blackness. Was this death? Am I dead now?
    There must be more to death than this. Then, it was as if someone turned bright lights on.
    I opened my eyes. I was laying on a table in a room that had some kind of bizarre lighting.
    I sat up and saw two small, young creatures close to the table. I could tell that one was female
    and one was male. They were blue with larger than normal heads and no mouths. They were beautiful.

    Their large eyes contained a look of pure surprise.

    YOU DID IT, SHILL. INCREDIBLE.
    
The alien, blue girl pointed to a button on a hand-held device with one of her four fingers. I heard an electric spark as I seemed to decompress or normalize with this new environment.
    
YES. IT WORKED. THIS IS A FIRST.
    
The little girl appeared to be smiling; which was hard to tell with her having no mouth.

    I said: "What"s going on? Hey, you"re speaking without moving.your...your.
    you know."
    Of course, no mouth creatures would be psychic. I could hear them as clear as a bell.

    I looked around and saw the interior of a bright, sleek, white, superstructure.
    There were corridors with unknown equipment, windows into other fantastic rooms,
    but no life forms other than these two children.

    The girl thought to me and I heard: ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?.....

    ,,,∞… gooooo…ñ ……here http://www.sffworld.com/authors/y/yurchey_doug/fiction/talking2.html


    THE ADEPT

    RA: THE ADEPT IS ONE WHICH HAS FREED ITSELF MORE AND MORE FROM THE CONSTRAINTS OF THE THOUGHTS, OPINIONS AND BONDS OF OTHER SELVES. Whether this is done for service to others or for service to self, it is a necessary part of the awakening of the adept. This freedom is seen by those not free as what you would call evil or black.

    RA: In service-to-others there is an association with the heart of all other selves and a disassociation from the illusory husks which prevent the adept (or anyone else) from correctly perceiving the self and other-selves as one.

    THE ONE IS TO BE SOUGHT BY THE BALANCED AND SELFACCEPTING
    SELF WHO IS AWARE BOTH OF ITS APPARENT DISTORTIONS AND ITS TOTAL PERFECTION.

    Resting in this balanced awareness, the entity then opens the self to the universe which it is. The light energy of all things may then be attracted by this intense seeking, and wherever the inner seeking meets the attracted cosmic prana, the realization of the One takes place. The purpose of clearing each energy center is to allow that meeting place to occur at the indigo ray vibration, thus making contact with intelligent infinity and dissolving all illusions. Service to others is automatic. (B3,51)

    (Bee4 kIN53) RA: The contact with intelligent infinity is most likely to produce an unspeakable joy in the entity experiencing such contact.
    THE MOST POWERFUL CONNECTION

    RA: When the positive adept touches intelligent infinity from within, this is the most powerful of connections. The adepts become living channels for love and light and are able to channel this radiance directly into the planetary web of energy nexi (or focal points). The ritual will always end in praise and thanksgiving and the release of this energy into the planetary whole.


    Well- it is very interesting that the mind can only focus on ONE subject at a time!!! Example:Think of an elephant with it's grey skin and long wriggly trunk....

    Now....

    Think of a beautiful flower that has delicate petals that are almost translucent
    in the sun light...swaying in the wind....

    Now....

    Think of a bright, juicy orange and it's citrus scent as you open the skin...

    Now....


    When we talked about the orange.....were you thinking of the elephant??
    or flower???

    The mind grasps the thoughts and doesn't think of the other... This is crucial to controling one's mind in positive thoughts!!!

    One must ON PURPOSE change your minds channel (or thoughts) if they do not help you...fear does not help!!!"...You should never forget that intolerance is the mask covering up the entertainment of secret doubts as to the trueness of one's belief." but “Anchoring yourself with us in true spirituality.
    love to et's
    Revelation is not a function of our contacting you across time and space, and although snippets of disclosure may seem to come your way, virtually all of these truth fragments were learnt before, by someone, at some time, in some place.
    frequent ‘messages of revelation’ coming your way, when usinG but your relaxed discernment in determining if its truth can it be truth, or is it merely that of a too or eager brotherlove r or sisterfriend's well 'mean-inGeeee. in sect/ion

    We salute you. Stay with the mission.” Change your thoughts and the reality will follow!!! But be sure it is for Highest Good as there are the laws of the Universe that applies!!!

    You know that one can only think one thought at a time, and thoughts follow the intent of the heart. Intent is the key as to how you live your life. It is the key to everything, for either unselfish living or a selfish existence. Intent from a pure and sincere human heart is instantly reflected to the heart of God, but God never judges. It is the intent of the human heart, and consequent actions about which the mortal judges him or her self.

    "To be more in alignment, more open with, more attuned to, and in full communication with your Higher Self. Guess what that (the water) does? It's called 'Divine Flow'. Let's talk water flowing through your prana, all the way up. Where do you feel the energy? Every part of your being, yes? Your prana runs along your spine, right? And it is connected, and it's got a little 'flow' through it. However, when you do this, the prana expands to here (approximately 2 feet outside body, all the way around). Do we understand? It entirely encapsulates the body."two interpenetrating golden phi ratio spirals,they spiral into each other map out a heart shape within a heart within a heart shape (the template of interdimensional fractality).
    Golden Bay is a Stargate see here

    One little known secret to making precisely the right move, at precisely the right time in your life, beautiful star seeds , is knowing that in all cases, there is more than one right move and more than one right zuvuya line. Lots and lots more.

    In other words, no matter what you do next, or when, so long as you do something, I'll meet you there, smooth the edges, polish the grill, and connect the dots.

    Tallyho, The Universe

    as we plant and ”receive {JoiLin onJanuary 27, 1996}≠The Seeds Of Loving Kindness.”

    .With every loving word, with every gentle gesture, you plant these seeds within the hearts of others, who in turn will one day begin to plant some of their own. This world is in a process of transformation; one that will take many years of loving sowing before the garden will be ready to be harvested. You are the stewards of new life on this world, and it will be through your ministrations; through your attention to the planting of even the tiniest seeds that tomorrow will burst forth in beautiful blossoms of living love.

“Go forth today and plant your seeds of loving kindness within the lives and hearts of your siblings, knowing that as you do so, you lay the foundation for a world full of light. Do not worry about tending these seeds once you have planted them; for the Father Himself will lovingly tend to them, awaiting the day when they, too, will burst forth in service to Him. Shalom.

    RA: The penetration of the veil has its roots in the gestation of green-ray activity, that all compassionate love which demands no return. If this path is followed the higher energy centers shall be activated and crystallized until the adept is born. Within the adept is the potential for dismantling the veil to some extent that all may be seen again as one. The other self is the primary catalyst in this particular path to the piercing of the veil. the River of Val i Verzasca Ticino with its clear, turquoise waters, captured from underneath the surface
    Feeling joy yourself when you see it in others is love. does She form a greek gamma cleaRing until Venus has pierced the planet's dung and is well clear of the magnetism and energy field of our star, the Sun. Amen! And Awomen!



    RA: The awareness of all as Creator is that which opens the green-ray center.

    God-Man: The Word Made Flesh

    dissolve it by rates of motion set in action by its inherent will.

    If the allegories of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, as
    well as Paul's Epistles and Acts of the Apostles teach
    anything, they teach the mastery and transmutation of the
    human body by anyone who obeys the physiological guide
    book the whole book the Holy Bible.

    But let the reader observe that each of the 66 books,
    as well as an almost countless number of ancient books
    of all races and languages, teach the same mathematical
    and physiological facts.

    Man perceiving 'only' below the solar sole plexus
    means "Conceived in sin and brought forth in iniquity",
    pesha or pasha.

    He has turned the mighty power he possesses to
    every object and principle of force in the universe except
    himself^ the greatest miracle of all. When man focuses
    his divine thinking lens upon himself, he will realize that
    he is an epitome of unlimited Cosmic Energy. Then the
    "Heavens will roll together as a scroll" and reveal the
    Real Man as "the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world
    THERE is an automatic procedure within the human
    body, which, if not interfered with, will do away
    with sickness, trouble, sorrow and death, as stated in the Bible.

    Truly, mankind, or the natural man, seeks many ways
    and means to prevent the upright, perfect, automatic way
    from "accomplishing that whereunto it was sent."

    Any act, coming under the meaning of sin, retards
    or prevents the automatic action of the seed, which, if
    not interfered with, lifts up a portion (one-tenth) of the
    life essence (oil or secretion) that constantly flows down
    the spinal cord (a "Strait and narrow way") and transmutes it,
    thus increasing its power many fold and perpepetuating
    the body indefinitely, or until the Ego desires to


    [21] allis ants and torsions

    "After a rebellion has been settled, the instigators and followers that fail to repent and accept Father’s mercy, figuratively, sit to be judged in the presence of the Ancients of Days, with personalities like me, providing spiritual counsel, so that the process, as it always has been, is perfect in its actions and final in its decisions. The judgment here is the ultimate one, it is either the remediation of the personality or his/her extinction.

    "Sure, the existing evil inertia in a world affected by rebellion biases the psyche and actions of the mortals there towards doing what is contrary to Father’s will, but there is no excuse for consistent iniquitous behavior, as this depletes the mortal of any spiritual value, and thus ensures his/her potential extinction. Do as your free will tells you, but also be mindful of the eternal consequences of your actions while in the flesh."

    Many shall come from the east and from the west to sit down with us in the Father's kingdom, while many of the children of Abraham will refuse to enter this new brotherhood of the rule of the Father's spirit in the hearts of the children of men.

    "The power of this kingdom shall consist, not in the strength of armies nor in the might of riches, but rather in the glory of the divine spirit that shall come to teach the minds and rule the hearts of the reborn citizens of this heavenly kingdom, the sons of God.
    This is the brotherhood of love wherein righteousness reigns, and whose battle cry shall be: Peace on earth and good will to all men.
    Removing them from their influential positions is continuing along with meticulous investigations and interrogations of numerous other individuals in many countries. Evidence in all these cases must be ironclad, and lightworkers within your legal and justice systems are working around the clock to expedite arrests, trials and convictions. Every procedure must be in accordance with your national or international laws, where the wheels tend to turn slowly, otherwise there would be chaos and anarchy.






    thats what steiner RU∂i saiD con©erning that issue……
    Human beings have a dark side. Everyone does. Its nature is complicated. Rudolf Steiner's spiritual research suggests that this quality of human existence is strongest in the true West - in the Americas. He spoke of how the Celtic priests, the Druids, traveled to America to study the aboriginal peoples there, for knowledge of the double was essential to healing illnesses. Perhaps this explains a lot, if we think about it. Such as the human sacrifices in mesoamerica or the duplicity of the oligarchy of wealth that more or less controls the government of the United States.
    Such as the excessive sexualization of everything (Fallen Eros); and the violence in films and television, which violence is more pornographic than sexually explicit internet pictures.
    http://ipwebdev.com/hermit/shadow.html"
    "It thinks in me" spoke Rudolf Steiner. The Mystery has its own will. "It" comes like a gentle wind, when "it" wills, and we prepare the way by "learning to think on our knees", as Valentin Tomberg, another passionate seeker I find very helpful, has advised. Two acts, only one our own."Joel A. Wendt [social philosopher ... and occasional fool]
    Owen Barfield, describes this from another direction. In his book , the evolution of consciousness, using these broad terms: original participation; the on-looker separation; and final participation; is running a it must. We, many incarnations ago, were naturally integrated with the world of spirit - that was original participation. With the on-looker separation (what we called above the enchantment into materialism, or the Ahrimanic Deception), we were set free of this prior given relationship to the Divine Mystery. Final participation is a choice we make. We are free not to seek reintegration. In the case of the presence of fullness and the fullness of presence (it thinks in me) we begin that reintegration by an act of will, in our own minds, in full consciousness and by our own choice. "For my part, the less I am there in a certain way (sacrificing my prior thinking - i.e. poor in spirit), the more room there is for the other-presence of Spirit (the kingdom of heaven). Then we think together (final participation). Now this process of learning to think about, then with, then within and finally as is circle and spiral-like in nature. Ordinary consciousness does not disappear, but the will in thinking is strengthened. Moreover, something already possessed by ordinary consciousness becomes raised out of instinct and into full self-consciousness.



    ” ÑSPEAKABLE
    ° not even by 'intent'



    8 / The Predatory Birds


    From the open windows of the penthouse Royal watched the huge birds clustering
    on the elevator heads fifty feet away. An unfamiliar species of estuarine
    gull, they had come up the river during the previous months and begun to
    congregate among the ventilation shafts and water storage tanks, infesting the
    tunnels of the deserted sculpture-garden. During his convalescence he had
    watched them arrive as he sat in his wheelchair on the private terrace. Later,
    when the callisthenics machine had been installed, the birds would hobble
    around the terrace while he exercised. In some way they were attracted by
    Royal's white jacket and pale hair, so close in tone to their own vivid
    plumage. Perhaps they identified him as one of their own, a crippled old
    albatross who had taken refuge on this remote roof-top beside the river? Royal
    liked this notion and often thought about it.
    The french windows swung in the early evening air. The alsatian had escaped,
    hunting by itself on the five-hundred-feet-long observation deck. Now that the
    summer had ended few people went up to the roof. The remains of a
    cocktail-party marquee, bedraggled in the rain, lay in the gutter below the
    balustrade. The gulls, heavy wings folded, strutted among the cheese sticks
    scattered around a cardboard carton. The potted palms had been untended for
    months, and the whole roof increasingly resembled a voracious garden.
    Royal stepped down on to the roof deck. He enjoyed the hostile gaze of the
    birds sitting on the elevator heads. The sense of a renascent barbarism hung
    among the overturned chairs and straggling palms, the discarded pair of diamante
    sunglasses from which the jewels had been picked.


    What attracted the birds to this isolated realm on the roof? As Royal
    approached, a group of the gulls dived into the air, soaring down to catch the
    scraps flung from a balcony ten floors below them. They fed on the refuse
    thrown into the car-park, but Royal liked to think that their real motives for
    taking over the roof were close to his own, and that they had flown here from
    some archaic landscape, responding to the same image of the sacred violence to
    come. Fearing that they might leave, he frequently brought them food, as if to
    convince them that the wait would be worth their while.
    He pushed back the rusty gates of the sculpture-garden. From the casement of a
    decorative lantern he took out a box of cereal meal, by rights reserved for
    the alsatian. Royal began to scatter the grains among the concrete tunnels and
    geometric forms of the play-sculptures.
    Designing the garden had given him particular satisfaction, and he was sorry
    that the children no longer used the playground. At least it was open to the
    birds. The gulls followed him eagerly, their strong wings almost knocking the
    cereal box from his hands.
    Leaning on his stick, Royal swung himself around the pools of water on the
    concrete floor.
    He had always wanted his own zoo, with half a dozen large cats and, more
    important, an immense aviary stocked with every species of bird. Over the
    years he had sketched many designs for the zoo, one of them -- ironically -- a
    high-rise structure, where the birds would be free to move about in those
    sections of the sky that were their true home. Zoos, and the architecture of
    large structures, had always been Royal's particular interest.
    The drenched body of a Siamese cat lay in the gutter where the birds had
    cornered it -- the small beast had climbed all the way up a ventilation shaft from the warm comfort of an apartment far below, embracing the daylight for a few last
    seconds before the birds destroyed it.
    Next to the cat was the carcass of a dead gull. Royal picked it up, surprised
    by its weight, stepped forward and with a powerful running throw hurled the
    bird far out into the air. It plummeted towards the ground, in an almost
    unending downward plunge, until it burst like a white bomb across the bonnet
    of a parked car.


    No one had seen him, but Royal would not have cared anyway. For all his keen
    interest in his neighbours' behaviour, he found it difficult not to look down
    on them. The five years of his marriage to Anne had given him a new set of
    prejudices. Reluctantly, he knew that he despised his fellow residents for the
    way in which they fitted so willingly into their appointed slots in the
    apartment building, for their over-developed sense of responsibility and lack
    of flamboyance.
    Above all, he looked down on them for their good taste. The building was a
    monument to good taste, to the well-designed kitchen, to sophisticated
    utensils and fabrics, to elegant and never ostentatious furnishings -- in
    short, to that whole aesthetic sensibility which these well-
    educated professional people had inherited from all the schools of industrial
    design, all the award-winning schemes of interior decoration institutionalized
    by the last quarter of the twentieth Century. Royal detested this orthodoxy of
    the intelligent. Visiting his neighbours' apartments, he would find himself physically repelled by the contours of an award-winning coffeepot, by the well-modulated colour schemes, by the good taste and intelligence that, Midas-like, had transformed everything in these apartments into an ideal marriage of function and design. In a sense, these people were the vanguard of a well-to-do and well-educated proletariat of the future, boxed up in these expensive apartments with their elegant furniture and intelligentsensibilities, and no possibility of escape. Royal would have given anything for one vulgar mantelpiece ornament, one less than snow-white lavatory bowl,one hint of hope. Thank God that they were at last breaking out of this fur-lined prison.


    On either side of him, the rain-soaked concrete stretched away into the evening mist.
    There were no signs of the white alsatian. Royal had reached the centre of the
    roof. The gulls sat on the ventilation shafts and elevator heads, watching him
    with their unusually alert eyes.
    Thinking that they might already have dined off the dog, Royal kicked aside an
    overturned chair and set off towards the stairhead, calling out the alsatian's
    name.

    Ten feet from the private terrace at the southern end of the roof, a
    middle-aged woman in a long fur coat stood by the balustrade. Shivering
    continuously, she stared out across the development project at the silver back
    of the river. A trio of lighters followed a tug upstream, and a police patrol
    boat cruised along the north bank.
    As Royal approached he recognized the widow of the dead jeweller. Was she
    waiting for the police to arrive, in some perverse way too proud to call them
    herself? He was about to ask if she had seen the alsatian,
    but he knew already
    that she would not reply.
    Her face was immaculately
    made up, but an expression of
    extreme hostility came through the rouge and powder,
    a gaze as hard as pain.
    Royal held tight to his cane.

    The woman's hands were hidden from sight, and he almost believed that inside the
    coat her jewelled fingers held a pair of unsheathed knives. For some reason he
    was suddenly convinced that she had been responsible for her husband's death,
    and that at any moment she would seize him and wrestle him over the ledge. At
    the same time, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to touch her, to put
    his arm around her shoulders. Some kind of wayward sexuality was at work. For
    a grotesque moment he was tempted to expose himself to her.
    "I'm looking for Anne's alsatian," he said lamely. When she made no reply he
    added, "We've decided to stay on."
    Confused by his response to this grieving woman, Royal turned away and made
    his way down the staircase to the floor below. Despite the pain in his legs he
    walked swiftly along the corridor, striking at the walls with his cane.
    When he reached the central lobby the sounds of the alsatian's frantic barking
    rose clearly up the nearest of the five high-speed elevator shafts. Royal
    pressed his head to the door panel. The elevator car, with the alsatian
    snarling and leaping inside it, was on the 15th floor, its doors jammed open.
    Royal could hear the heavy blows of a metal club striking at the floor and
    walls, and the shouts of three attackers -- one of them a woman -- as they
    beat the animal to the floor.
    When the dog's yelping subsided, the elevator at last responded to the call
    button. The car climbed to the top floor, where the doors opened on the barely
    conscious dog dragging itself around the bloodied floor. The animal's head and
    shoulders were heavy with blood. Matted hair streaked the walls of the cabin.
    Royal tried to reassure it, but the alsatian snapped at his hand, frightened
    of the stick.
    Several of his neighbours gathered around, carrying an assortment of weapons
    -- tennis rackets, dumb-bells and walking sticks. They were beckoned aside by
    a friend of Royal's, a gynaecologist named Pangbourne who lived in the
    apartment next to the lobby. A swimming partner of Anne's, he often played
    with the dog on the roof.
    "Let me have a look at him . . . Poor devil, those savages have abused you . .." Deftly he insinuated himself into the elevator and began to soothe the dog.
    "We'll get him back to your apartment. Royal. Then I suggest we discuss the
    elevator position."
    Pangbourne knelt down on the floor, whistling a strange series of sounds at
    the dog. For some weeks the gynaecologist had been urging Royal to interfere
    with the building's electrical switching systems, as a means of retaliating
    against the lower floors. This supposed power over the high-rise was the chief
    source of Royal's authority with his neighbours, though he suspected that
    Pangbourne for one was well aware that he would never make use of it. With his
    soft hands and consulting-room manner the gynaecologist unsettled Royal
    slightly, as if he were always just about to ease an unwary patient into a
    compromising obstetric position -- in fact, though, Pangbourne belonged to the
    new generation of gynaecologists who never actually touched their patients,
    let alone delivered a child. His speciality was the computerized analysis of
    recorded birth-cries, from which he could diagnose an infinity of complaints
    to come. He played with these tapes like an earlier generation of sorcerer
    examining the patterns of entrails. Characteristically, Pangbourne's one
    affair in the high-rise had been with a laboratory researcher on the and
    floor, a slim, silent brunette who probably spent all her time tormenting
    small mammals. He had broken this off soon after the outbreak of hostilities.
    Nonetheless, he had a way with the injured alsatian. Royal waited while he
    calmed the dog and examined its wounds. He held its muzzle in his white hands
    as if he had just freed the poor beast from its caul. Together, he and Royal
    half-carried and half-dragged the dog back to Royal's apartment.
    Fortunately, Anne and Jane Sheridan had left for the 10th-floor supermarket, picking up the one elevator released for general traffic.
    Pangbourne settled the dog on the dust-sheet covering one of the sofas.
    "I'm glad you were here," Royal told him. "You're not at your practice?"
    Pangbourne stroked the alsatian's swollen head, his white hands delicate with
    blood. "I attend my consultancy two mornings a week, just enough time for me to listen to the latest recordings. Otherwise I'm on guard duty here." He peered
    pointedly at Royal. "If I were you, I'd keep a closer eye on Anne -- unless
    you want her to be . . ."
    "Sound advice. You've never thought of leaving ? The conditions now . . ."
    The gynaecologist frowned at Royal as if unsure whether he was serious. "I've
    only just moved here. Why should I concede anything to these people?" He
    pointed expressively at the floor with a bloodstained finger.
    Impressed by the determination of this refined and punctilious man to defend
    his terrain, Royal followed him to the door, thanking him for his help and
    promising to discuss with him thesabotage of the elevators. For the next half an
    hour Royal cleaned the wounds of the alsa-tian.
    Although the dog began to sleep, the bloodstains on the white dust-sheet made
    Royal feel increasingly restless. The assault had released in him a more than
    half-conscious wish for conflict. To date he had been a moderating influence,
    restraining his neighbours from any unnecessary retaliatory action. Now he
    wanted trouble at any price. Somewhere below a falling bottle burst on a balcony, a brief explosion against the rising background of over-noisy record-players, shouts and hammering. Thelight in the apartment had begun to fade, the shrouded furniture suspended around him like under-inflated clouds…..………… ……. .,,..



    We have tol lol It reaches apexial download on the May 20, 2012 Solar Eclipse and encompasses four primary progressions:
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    chapterbut the only thing that remains unchanged is impersonal formless consciousness as the Emptiness -- it can not be seen http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/64066_153766041331075_136154603092219_257124_2352211_n.jpgin a 9 ( nein ,or?)

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Sun May 06, 2012 6:39 pm

    but the only thing that remains unchanged is impersonal formless consciousness as the Emptiness -- it can not be seen

    in a place known as Earth, where a more cautiously and intelligently supervised "repeat
    performance" is taking place exe -rthemed: a thingy is as strong as it's weakest spot……


    There are currently 48 planets soon to ascend to 5D, earth being one…and they are all connected. Not all these worlds are experiencing the darkness of Dracos, financial tyranny and hatred that earth is, in fact only 3 others are: the rest are peaceful civilizations who are ascending by a process of harmony…however, if earth and humans fail to ascend and the cabal wins, the other 47 planets will also fail to ascend and become open for invasion by the Draco-Hydras and Greys. This is why it is so important to the benevolent ETs that earth is helped toward the 5D, but in a natural way. The ascension process for this area of the galaxy is a web — if one strand breaks, the whole web breaks.
    There is a good reason why earth is often referred to as “a mental asylum.” as modern humans HIStory is a "vanishing mediator" -- 90% of this slowly catalyzing ..and right brain dominant in harmony with left handed carbon-based molecules embedded in technospheroidal timelines pervade d in.
    .t. .


    José Arguelles / Valum Votan: *)
    Blue Spectral Monkey - - Red Spectral Moon(.

    : in holly memory ÷ the concept of TIME

    that developed in the West was originally developed in Babylonia and Sumeria, and then passed down to the Romans. It also spread from Sumeria to India and to China. It went to Egypt. Eventually it was picked up by Julius Caesar who gave us the Julian calendar in 45 BC. It is a 12-month calendar with all the uneven dates. The Gregorian calendar is based on the Julian calendar. So, irrationality and illogic is built into our system. That's why, no matter how many laws you make you can't keep the criminals down.In 1562, there was a major book burning, probably comparable to the burning of the library of Alexandria. The Bishop in charge of the burning returned to Rome to describe his adventurers and divulge everything that he discovered. One thing that they found out was that the calendar that the Mayans used was better than their calendar. It kept time better and they found out that on their calendar, what was then called the Julian calendar, that they were 10 days off from the solstices and the equinoxes. In 1572 the Bishop was sent back to Yucatan and a new pope was elected in Rome.

    He took on the name Pope Gregory the XIII, an interesting number. And he said, "The first thing I'm going to do is reform the calendar." So, the calendar reform that came to be known as the "Gregorian calendar reform" was a direct result of the aftermath of the conquest of the Mayan civilization and the discovery that their calendar was more precise and more accurate than the Julian calendar. So, 10 years later in 1582, 90 years after Christopher Columbus set off, we got the Gregorian calendar. You went to bed on October 5th and woke up on October 16th. They took care of those 10 days they lost. And that's where that calendar came from. At the same moment in time in history, what is called the mechanical clock attained its perfection. The Mayans knew about in their calendar what was the mathematical constant ratio of 13:20, which is the natural timing frequency, and I saw that all of modern civilization was based on an artificial timing frequency which I refer to as a 12:60 frequency. It is the irregular 12-month calendar, with a mechanistic 60-minute hour of the clock. The combination of these two instruments created at that point in time, 1582, an unconscious mental frequency, the 12:60, which is an irregular, chaotic, macro program., used to denigrate natural human facilities to wards a serviceable slaveMentality.



    NATURAL, UNIVERSAL, COSMIC TIME,…..AND THAT TIME IS A FREQUENCY.

    "art" being the language of image and metaphor and "physics" the language of numbers and EQUATIONS. The Mayan time is a measure of synchronicity, factors of synchronicity, and that its cyclical and fractal. And I saw that the 260 count is actually a 13 x 20 ratio, and that this 13:20 ratio is a mathematical constant. It is a constant of time that runs through the universe. The difference between the 13 and the 20 is the 7, your mystical number. The 7, the 13 and the 20 are the key numbers of the fourth dimensional time that was understood by the Mayans in their mathematical, astronomical and calendarical system.

    .the Mayans knew through their calendar system that synchronicity is the norm. Everything is in a state of synchronicity. In fact, that's what the "Law of Time" refers to as the "synchronic order



    "The Law of Time" is something just like when Newton discovered the law of gravity.

    " We all know that time is the fourth dimension. " The synchronic order is to the fourth dimension of time what gravity is to the third dimension of space. That holds everything together. And we're also in the fourth dimension and the third dimension this very moment. The fourth dimension is greater than and encompasses the third dimension. The third dimension is physical - it's space. We can touch it, see it, and we can feel what it is. It has texture, color, and sound, whatever you want. But show me where time is. It's not on your clock. You can't touch time. You can't see time. Maybe with an inner sense you can feel time. So, time is of the mind, just like third dimension space is of matter. Time is of the mind. That's where time exists. If you look into nature, you can see there are cycles and rhythms of time. You know the lunar cycles and the Circadian rhythms. There are different biological cycles. But the actual fact is that when you say, "Where is it? How do you know it?" is that time is of the mind.

    Who owns your time owns your mind.
    10. Knowledge that human consciousness is not in the brain, but is located entirely in the energy fields that surrounds the body. That's who you are. You are not the body...


    the mathematical constant ratio of 13:20,1582, an unconscious MENTAL FREQUENCY, the 12:60, "Today is the day of magnetic monkey [July 3, 2003]. It says, "I unify in order to play. Attracting illusion I seal the process of magic with the magnetic tone of purpose. I'm guided by my own power doubled, which means lots of magic. It is my purpose to be I'm a monkey on this calendar. I'm a spectral monkey." And today is a magnetic monkey so I have a special affinity with this day of monkeys love to play.

    What a calendar measures is the orbit of the Earth around the sun. That's what a solar calendar measures. A lunar calendar measures the moon around the Earth. A lunar calendar is not a solar calendar.

    The 13-moon calendar is a solar-lunar calendar because it uses those two main measures of the moon - one is the 29-day mean length of human menstruation cycle ), new moon to new moon - it's called the synodical. And the other is the 27-day measure, the sidereal, which is from where the moon appears in the sky and when it returns to that same place again. Between the 27 and the 29 is the 28-day, which is also the mean measure of the lunar cycle So, it's a biologically accurate calendar for the human species as well as using a lunar measure as the unit of measure.
    This gets you back to 13. And we know that one of the diseases of civilization is a phobia or fear of the number 13. It's built into the civilization. It's been there since Babylon. Why? That's a very interesting question. My research showed me that throughout most of pre-history, the Thirteen Moon/28-Day calendar was probably the most prominently used instrument of all peoples. Both Egypt and China had it. It's still in use in South America in the Andean civilization. This is the year 5,511 of the Thirteen Moon calendar in South America. Of course, the Mayans had it and so did other peoples of North America as well as in Polynesia, and not to mention the Druids.


    13 months, 28 days.Dreamspell: Journey of Timeship Earth 2013.

    The Dreamspell encodes a psycho-mythic cosmology known as the "Journey of Timeship Earth 2013". It is this cosmology that makes the Dreamspell a psychoactive tool kit for personally engaging you in the fourth-dimensional synchronic order of time. The fundamental premise for making it psychoactive lies in finding your galactic signature, the color, icon, and tone that code your date of birth. This combination of factors - color, tone, and icon - establishes a mathematical code that allows you to use your galactic signature in mapping increasing orders of synchronicity. There are four colors, thirteen tones, and twenty icons. The four colors code each of five sets of icons and correspond to the base four-phasic function of the noospheric rainbow brain - red initiates, white refines, blue transforms, and yellow ripens. The icons themselves actually respond to the mathematical code 0-19.
    The mapping of synchronicity through use of the galactic signature is done through a set of tools: the Galactic Compass, Journey Board, Oracle Board, and Time Atom Cube. The Dreamspell is indispensable for education concerning the radial, fractal nature of fourth-dimensional time and mathematics
    .
    The Dreamspell device has 18,980 permutations. It's literally a digital computer - 18,980 permutations - the number of days in a 52-year cycle. In a 52-year cycle, when you combine the 260-day cycle with the Thirteen Moon/28-Day cycle, no day repeats for 52 years. That's on there. No two days are the same for 52 years. Each day has an energy or vibrational frequency. There is one of 13 numbers and one of 20 solar frequencies or signs or tribes. Tomorrow will be "Yellow Lunar Human". The day after tomorrow will be "Red Electric Skywalker". The day after that will be "White Self-Existing Wizard". What we're talking about is replacing a lower illusion with a higher illusion. Time

    we move into harmonics , we lift that ceiling. We will be able to access the vertical time vectors of time and different levels of synchronization and synchronicity that will put us in touch.


    question woulc'd be... more: are angels clones? how should i translate that
    fachidiotenGestalt asneworder- + notstor (mee Cker) Ult Ra-Excavation?
    as if it had been the C-hiroKeys
    the first to enter...'all i
    act (transOppoñing
    ally anCe)'meingot!
    " spygot loveYouThough... The omega point is 2012. And the noosphere literally means the mental sphere around the planet. The true mental sphere is not the Internet but telepathy. That's the true mental sphere. When we reach this, we will be operating like the dolphins and we will be reorganizing our society. We'll find by 2012 that we really do not need governments after all. Nor do we need money. And we can dispose of much of the machinery we have. For what we need, we can use wind and free energy and solar, and that will do it. Then we will be chastened and cleansed.

    We will have learned from history, and it will actually be heaven on Earth.
    Right now it's very close to hell on Earth, but we have to make this change.
    The Harmonic Convergence called everybody to go out to sacred sites because we had to become one with nature again. But everyone came back from the sacred sites and made business cards because they didn't know the nature of time. Time is not linear, but is radial, fractal and about something totally different than you ever dreamed possible. Time is participatory. Time is one of the forces that we have never controlled. But we can control it, we can live it, and we can enter into the next stage of evolution where we are living fourth dimensionally and returning to the garden as a race of Earth wizards.

    Experience is coming in waves. A wave comes in, and the mechanistic "old" brain appears to dominate for a while. Old patterns of forcing progress resurface, even in the knowledge that these patterns are not helpful. Go ahead. Scratch the itch. Control for a while. Even enjoy the notion of controlling and planning and achieving an outcome. Or just watch the urge to control. Either is fine.

    Timelines are created by the individual in the assumptions the individual holds.
    -in most cases unconsciously. what a trap!
    There is no such thing as a concrete timeline; there is only the perception of that which is considered to be a concrete timeline. This is by agreement of those participating in the event.

    When the wave (of perception) recedes, and there is wonder that the urge to control could ever dominate. … In the light of new understanding, there is resonance, and everything works so wonderfully together when resonance is felt primarily, when we know to feel for it and move toward it. Bathing in resonance, in what we feel and sense, we are not distracted by all our thoughts of how things ought to be. We were indoctrinated in lots of oughts, but now, knowing our power is in the present, we're insisting less and feeling more. We're letting action spring up out of that feeling.
    Did you ever wonder what your life would have been like had you turned right instead of left twenty years ago? If you married that certain person ten years, or did not marry them? You can observe and even experience those choices from 5D. Essentially, you become the master of your reality, the creator of your own universe.
    Time is a third dimension limitation, but it is converging into one for time wave zero, and then will spread back out backwards. There is no “time” as you presently perceive it from 5D and up. Time is the 4D, so in 5D you can look back on it, past, present and future, and manipulate it: change timelines, explore choices.

    ...can feel emotion of every being who stand near me in circle with 5 metre radius. Being can be both a human or a soul. What is the DNA race which this ability is belong of?
    I just can read the emotion not the thought, but I can recognize thought of someone is negative or positive. If a negative person stand near me, I feel headache
    .


    What to do when a wave of the old stuff comes in? Just recognize it for what it is. Know it will recede again. Accept that you may dip your toe into old patterns. You may hear a lot of messages out there about nipping those old patterns in the bud or else. The funny thing is, fighting them makes them bigger. It is perfectly safe to have a cup of tea with them. They will never dominate in the long term.
    Alpha 5 - Kin 238, White Self-Existing Mirror (6 May 2012)
    I Define in order to Reflect
    I Measure Order
    I seal the matrix of endlessness
    With the Self-existing tone of Form
    I am guided by the power of Timelessness
    timeless Endlessness Full Moon.
    WholEarthMeditation http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iiz77wZaE_k

    So how do things work now? You are a Being, Sensing, and Experiencing entity. All action comes out of your sensing. Any thought that feels stressful is distracting you from what is happening right now, from the okayness and the flexibility and the instant transmutability of it.
    (from julie
    http://clarityblips.blogspot.com/)

    This is a duality planet with the complete requisite electro-magnetic spectrum in 3d that contains by definition a positive and negative field. zThe little you was (and sometimes still is) in the business of knowing, doing, and deciding, caught up in a thought cloud that sent it scurrying this way and that, all powered by fear and a sense that things are not okay, that they have to be forced in some other direction.

    All stressful thoughts, all insecure thoughts, all fearful thoughts, are merely distractors from your innate sense that all is well. Feel into the immense whole that is truly you (and everything else that exists). Can you feel how okay it is, how stable, how loving, how the energy radiates from it?

    The question becomes one of RESONANCE! Can the selfenergy of the Source-String be attained? Spiritual/electrical energy relates to our spiritual connection (imagination, inspiration, divine connection) and the mind (mental imagery and memory.) Magnetism relates to feelings — the emotions (our feelings about what we think and receive) and physical body (physical sensation.) That pure, clear energy *is* you, and fear only ever covers it up. What to do when fear comes? Just remember what you're dealing with. Fear is something that misleads and distracts. That is not to say that you should fight powerful nudges to act one way or another. Bathing in resonance gives you these nudges to move toward and away from things. But to believe in a not-okay world is to base your life on fear, to believe that you're much smaller and more vulnerable than you are. Can you question your belief in fear? Can you see how you may have relied upon it for safety?


    What is it like to live in resonance? It's to live with absolute sensitivity toward every particle of creation (nothing that can ever be planned ahead, mind-forced, or behaved into being). It's to be powered by love.

    The 'spirit of life', which invigorates the body becomes a form of NATURAL ELECTRIC CURRENT, which does not require any inertial medium to propagate in.

    You *are* that resonance. You are life vibrating and humming, transforming and creating anew.
    The NATURAL electricity of life is by nature superconductive and reduces the NORMAL Electricity (I=dq/dt), given as the flow of Coulombic charge (q) over time to a source current defined in I=2N.ef and where the Coulombic charge quantum 'e' becomes a coefficient in a differential equation reduced from order two in normal electricity to order one in its natural electric counterpart and where N is a integral count.

    If you can feel into the core of yourself, feel your own vibrating and humming aliveness, know that everything comes from that. Your brain might do tricks and acrobatics trying to get you to effort or force your life in one "better" direction or another, but you are getting too unified and aware for that now.


    The 'brain' of you experiencing this body will be alike an antenna or receiver, able to process a kaleidoscope of frequencies from the environment and to use the utility of THOUGHT as software to modulate the frequencies of the computer in the current elements of the natural electricity, which can be labeled as the 'spirit of the lifeforce'.

    Let's say you're at a crappy gas station on your way to the final destination. The gas station provides you with fuel for the rest of the journey. How often do you curse a gas station for giving you what you stopped for--fuel, a place to pee, snacks. No, you don't want to live there, and you're not going to.

    You're not feeling bad because your own actions have brought you to a bad place. You're in a new place, and that old struggle muscle, which is completely inappropriate for the new place, keeps trying to do what it's used to doing.

    You know why it hurts? Because you're directing your attention to an entity called you and believing there's a problem. Not only are you believing there's a problem; you're also believing that it takes torturous human effort and judgment to solve these problems. You're believing that the separate parts move of their own volition.


    and then the sun was setting…


    Somewhere below a falling bottle burst on a balcony, a brief explosion against
    the rising background of over-noisy record-players, shouts and hammering. The
    light in the apartment had begun to fade, the shrouded furniture suspended
    around him like under-inflated clouds. The afternoon had passed, and soon the
    danger period would begin. Thinking of Anne trying to make her way back from
    the 10th floor, Royal turned to leave the apartment.
    By the door he stopped, holding one hand over the dial of his wrist-watch. His
    concern for Anne was as strong as ever -- if anything he felt more possessive towards her
    -- but he decided to let another half-hour elapse before he went in search of
    her. Perversely, this would increase the element of danger, the chance of
    confrontation. He walked calmly around the apartment, noting the telephones on
    the floor and the neatly wrapped cables. Even if she were trapped somewhere,
    Anne would be unable to call him.
    While he waited for the darkness, Royal went up to the penthouse and watched
    the gulls on the elevator heads. In the evening light their plumage was a
    vibrant white. Like birds at dusk waiting among the cornices of a mausoleum,
    they flicked their wings against the bone-like concrete. As if agitated by
    Royal's confused state, they rose excitedly into the air. Royal was thinking
    of his wife, of the possible assaults on her, an almost sexual fever of hazard
    and revenge tightening his nerves. In another twenty minutes he would leave
    the apartment and make his killing drop down the shafts of the high-rise,
    murder descending. He wished he could take the birds with him. He could see
    them diving down the elevator shafts, spiralling through the stairwells to
    swoop into the corridors. He watched them wheel through the air, listening to
    their cries as he thought of the violence to come.

    - -.
    9/ lnto the Drop Zone

    At seven o'clock Anthony Royal set out with the white alsatian to find his
    wife. The dog had recovered sufficiently from its beating to limp along in
    front of him. Its damp pelt was marked with a vivid crimson bloom. Like the
    bloodstains on his white jacket, Royal was proud of these signs of combat. As
    if mimicking the dog, he wore its blood on his chest and hips, the insignia of
    an executioner's apparel yet to be designed.

    He began his descent into the lower depths of the building in the high-speed
    elevator lobby. A group of excited neighbours had just emerged from one of the
    cars. Four floors down, an apartment had been ransacked by a party of tenants
    from the 15th floor. These sporadic raids on apartments were taking place with
    increasing frequency. Empty apartments, even if left for no more than a single
    day, were especially vulnerable. Some unconscious system of communication
    alerted any would-be raiders that an apartment a dozen floors above or below
    was ripe for ransack.
    With difficulty Royal found an elevator to take him down to the 35th floor.
    The restaurant had closed. After serving a last lunch to the Royals the chef
    and his wife had left for good.
    Chairs and tables had been stacked around the kitchen in a barricade, and the
    revolving door was padlocked. The long observation windows, with their
    magnificent view, were shuttered and chained, throwing the north end of the
    pool into darkness.
    The last swimmer, a market analyst from the 38th floor, was leaving the
    swimming-pool. His wife waited protectively outside his cubicle as he changed.
    She watched the alsatian lapping at the water lying on the greasy tiles by the
    diving-board. When the dog relieved itself against the door of an empty
    cubicle her face was expressionless. Royal felt a modest pride in this act,
    which rekindled a primitive territorial reflex. The marking of this cubicle
    with the dog's over-bright urine defined the small terrain coming under his
    sway.
    For the next hour Royal continued his search for his wife, descending deeper
    into the central mass of the high-rise. As he moved from
    one floor to the next, from one elevator to another, he realized the full
    extent of its deterioration. The residents' rebellion against the apartment
    building was now in full swing. Garbage lay heaped around the jammed disposal
    chutes.
    The stairways were littered with broken glass, splintered kitchen chairs and
    sections of handrail.
    Even more significant, the pay-phones in the elevator lobbies had been ripped
    out, as if the tenants, like Anne and himself, had agreed to shut off any
    contact with the world outside.


    The further down Royal reached, the greater the damage. Fire safety doors
    leaned off their hinges, quartz inspection windows punched out. Few corridor
    and staircase lights still worked, and no effort had been made to replace the
    broken bulbs. By eight o'clock little light reached the corridors, which
    became dim tunnels strewn with garbage sacks. The lurid outlines of lettered
    slogans, aerosolled in luminous paint across the walls, unravelled around him
    like the decor of a nightmare.
    Rival groups of residents stood around in the lobbies, guarding their
    elevators and watching each other along the corridors. Many of the women had
    portable radios slung from their shoulders, which they switched from station
    to station as if tuning up for an acoustic war. Others carried cameras and
    flash equipment, ready to record any acts of hostility, any incursions into
    their territory.
    By changing elevators and making journeys of two floors at a time, Royal
    finally descended into the lower half of the apartment building. He was
    unmolested by the other residents, who watched him as he entered their
    lobbies, moving out of his way as he strolled past. The wounded alsatian and
    Royal's bloodstained jacket gave him free passage through these rival clans,
    as if he were a betrayed landowner descending from his keep to parade his
    wounds among his rebellious tenants.

    By the time he reached the 10th floor the concourse was almost deserted. A few
    residents wandered around the shopping mall, staring at the empty chromium
    counters. The bank and liquor store were closed, their grilles chained. There
    was no sign of Anne. Royal led the alsatian through the swing doors into the
    swimming-pool, now barely half full. The yellow water was filled with debris,
    the floor at the shallow end emerging like a beach in a garbage lagoon. A
    mattress floated among the bottles, surrounded by a swill of cardboard cartons
    and newspapers.


    Even a corpse would go unnoticed here, Royal reflected. As the alsatian
    snuffled its way along the vandalized changing cubicles, Royal waved his cane
    at the humid air, trying to stir it into life. He would soon suffocate here in
    the lower section of the apartment building. During even this brief visit he
    had felt crushed by the pressure of all the people above him, by the thousands
    of individual lives, each with its pent-up time and space.
    From the elevator lobby on the far side of the swimming-pool came the sounds
    of shouting.
    Urging on the dog, Royal strode to the rear exit behind the diving-boards.
    Through the glass doors he watched a heated argument taking place outside the
    entrance to the junior school. Some twenty men and women were involved, one
    group from the lower floors carrying desks and chairs, a blackboard and
    artist's easel, the other trying to prevent them from re-occupying the
    classrooms.

    Scuffles soon broke out. Egged on by a film-editor wielding a desk over his
    head, the parents pressed forward determinedly. Their opponents, residents
    from the nth and 12th floors, stood their ground, forming a heavy-breathing
    cordon. A bad-tempered brawl developed, men and women wrestling clumsily with
    each other.

    Royal pulled the alsatian away, deciding to leave this jostling group to
    settle their own dispute. As he turned to continue his search for Anne, the
    staircase doors leading into the lobby were flung back. A group of residents,
    all from the 14th and 15th floors, leapt out and hurled themselves into the
    melee. They were led by Richard Wilder, cine-camera gripped like a battle
    standard in one hand. Royal assumedhttp://www.ernstfuchs-gallery.com/bildgr/a9gr.jpgthat Wilder was filming an episode from
    the documentary he had been talking about for so long, and had set up the
    entire scene. But Wilder was in the thick of the fray, aggressively wielding
    the cine-camera as he urged on his new allies against his former neighbours.
    The raiding party was shouldered back towards the staircase in disarray, the
    parents dropping the desks and blackboard.
    Wilder slammed the staircase doors behind them. Expelling his sometime
    neighbours and friends had clearly given him enormous satisfaction. Waving his
    camera, he pointed to the classroom of the junior school. Two young women,
    Royal's wife and Jane Sheridan, were crouching behind an overturned desk. Like
    children caught red-handed in some mischief, they watched Wilder as he
    beckoned theatrically towards them.
    Holding the alsatian on a short leash, Royal pushed back the glass doors. He
    strode through the residents in the lobby, who were now happily breaking up
    the children's desks.

    "It's all right, Wilder," he called out in a firm but casual voice. "I'll take
    over."
    He stepped past Wilder and entered the classroom. He lifted Anne to her feet.
    "I'll get you out of here -- don't worry about Wilder."
    "I'm not . . ." For all her ordeal, Anne was remarkably unruffled. She gazed
    at Wilder with evident admiration. "My God, he's rather insane . . ."
    Royal waited for Wilder to attack him. Despite the twenty years between them,
    he felt calm and self-controlled ready for the physical confrontation. But
    Wilder made no attempt to move. He watched Royal with interest, patting one
    armpit in an almost animal way, as if glad to see Royal here on the lower
    levels, directly involved at last in the struggle for territory and womenfolk.
    His shirt was open to the waist, exposing a barrel-like chest that he showed
    off with some pride.
    He held the cine-camera against his cheek as if he were visualizing the
    setting and choreography of a complex duel to be fought at some more
    convenient time on a stage higher in the building.

    That night, when they had returned to their apartment on the 40th floor, Royal
    set about asserting his leadership of the topmost levels of the high-rise.
    First, while his wife and Jane Sheridan rested together in Anne's bed, Royal attended to the alsatian. He fed the dog in the kitchen with the last of its food. The wounds on its shoulders and head were as hard as coins.

    Royal was more aroused by the injuries to the dog than by any indignity
    suffered by his wife. He had almost made Anne's ordeal certain by deliberately
    postponing his search for her. As he expected, she and Jane had been unable to
    find an elevator when they had finished shopping at the supermarket. After
    being molested in the lobby by a drunken sound-man they had taken refuge in
    the deserted classroom.

    "They're all making their own films down there," Anne told him, clearly
    fascinated by her heady experience of the lower orders at work and play.
    "Every time someone gets beaten up about ten cameras are shooting away."
    "They're showing them in the projection theatre," Jane confirmed. "Crammed in
    there together seeing each other's rushes."
    "Except for Wilder. He's waiting for something really gruesome."
    Both women turned without thinking to look at Royal, but he took this in his
    stride. In an obscure way, it was his affection for Anne that had led him to
    display her to his neighbours below, his contribution to the new realm they
    would create together. By contrast, the alsatian belonged to a more practical
    world. Already he knew that the dog might well prove useful, be more easily
    bartered than any woman, in the future that lay ahead. He decided not to throw
    away the bloodstained jacket, glad to wear the dog's blood against his chest.
    He refused any offers to clean it from the wives of his fellow residents who
    came in to comfort the two young women.

    The assaults on the alsatian, and on Royal's wife, made his apartment a
    natural focus of his neighbours' decision to regain the initiative before they
    were trapped on the roof of the high-rise. To Pangbourne he explained that it was vital for them to enlist the support of the tenants living on the floors immediately below the 35th. "To survive, we need allies as a buffer against any attacks from the lower
    levels, and also to give us access to more of the elevators. We're in danger
    of being cut off from the central mass of the building."
    "Right," the gynaecologist agreed, glad to see that Royal had at last woken up
    to the realities of then: position. "Once we've gained a foothold there we can
    play these people off against those lower down -- in short balkanize the
    centre section and then begin the colonization of the entire building . . ."
    In retrospect, it surprised Royal how easily they were able to implement these
    elementary schemes. At nine o'clock, before the evening's parties began, Royal
    began to enlist the support of the residents below the 35th-floor
    swimming-pool. Expertly, Pangbourne played on their grievances.
    These people shared many of the problems of the top-floor tenants -- their
    cars had also been damaged, and they had the same struggles with the declining
    water-supply and air-conditioning. In a calculated gesture, Royal and
    Pangbourne offered them the use of the top-floor elevators. To reach their
    apartments they would no longer have to enter the main lobby and run the
    gauntlet of thirty intervening floors. They would now wait for a top-level
    tenant to appear, enter the private lobby with him and ride straight to the
    35th floor without harassment, and then walk the few steps down to their
    apartments.
    The offer was accepted, Royal and Pangbourne deliberately asking for no
    concessions in return. The deputation returned to the 4oth floor, the members
    dispersing to their apartments to prepare for the evening's festivities. During
    the previous hour a few trivial incidents had occurred -- the middle-aged wife
    of a 28th-floor account-executive had been knocked unconscious into the
    half-empty swimming-pool, and a radiologist from the 7th floor had been beaten
    up among the driers in the hairdressing salon -- but in general everything
    within the high-rise was normal.
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Fri May 11, 2012 11:48 pm

    Atlantis was only a dress rehearsal, and we know that it didn’t go so well. But you have all learned and grown through these ages, learned of the world that has been under the spell of…….the unthinkable -worse than humans can imagine

    Th... the source of consciousness waiting for souls to remember: the media, marketing and general dumbing down of any populace, its feeding on numbness and probiotic Yogh-ur-Sothot, is easily instilling an inner unbalanced bizarreness which provides for timelines to almost anything you wish and deviously can imagine for. IT IS THE VEIL. So very few people see this.

    During these times of havoc, humanity is coming to the point where decisions have to be made in order to prevail against the dark forces that have been dwelling within us, since the beginning of this era. It is true that these forces have been controlling us since time immemorial, but that is because we have failed to gain the true knowledge of our reality. Now there is so much to tell about the possibilities that lie ahead for us when thinking about the enormous odds that we are confronting us against an invisible enemy that is hiding behind the wall of injustice, as true freedom is being negated for all of us.

    abominable shape-shifter with the Reptilian name of “Sar-Ko-Zi” ab OL ished) Former Libyan prime minister Al-Baghdadi Al-Mahmoudi claimed only last week that Sarkozy’s 2007 election campaign received a staggering 50 million Euros in illegal financing from ex-Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi. Last December, Jacques Chirac became the first post-war French head of state to be convicted of criminal wrongdoing, receiving a two-year suspended prison sentence for diverting public funds and abusing public trust.

    oUR unhidden agenda:

    March 20 - Equinox - The 4th and final wave of the Cosmic Trigger, upload for the Ring of Fire download (Solar Eclipse of May 20, 2012) and initializing the Crystalline Codes. arrived trail. passing pitiless scorpion moon's bites on to

    May 20- Ring of Fire Solar Eclipse - The apex of the Final Phase of the Cosmic Trigger. Humanity macro-integration - Divine Masculine balance via the balancing waves of the Divine Feminine as the Golden Dolphin influx. … looks good at face value, lets see what's arriving in it's shadowy mists.- .

    June 4 - Lunar Eclipse- Humanity micro- integration- Divine Feminine Balance.

    June 6 - Venus Transit - Integration with the Sirian and Pleiadean Alliance,
    the full return of the
    • Golden Dolphin energies, the initial integration of Divine Feminine to Divine Masculine.

    June 20 - Summer Solstice - Extremely powerful, completing a quartet of dates with the Solar eclipse of

    May 20th and Lunar Eclipse of June 4th and Venus Transit of June 6. This will be an extremely intense , yet balancing energy that incorporates a final inflow of energetic codes and allows for obstructing releases.



    Also know that there are at least 20+ other planets that are also about to go through their own evolution into becoming higher dimensional worlds & beings. At least two (2) of these worlds are very much like Earth, in that they are 3D, Earth like in composition, third dimensional, worlds... though they will go through this higher dimensional evolution much easier than the people of Earth because they are far less complex worlds, with only 1 or 2 races at most on each world. The many people of these worlds have also been 'attacked', misused, emotionally & psychologically tortured... with negative energy bombardment; and like Earth, the energy of these people of their planets have also been fed upon as a natural resource to the Draco Reptilians & their assistants the 'Greys'.


    MUSTARDSEEDS of mayan dimming timelines that fall thru the shady mists of warping technocratic embroidery caching these monstrous inner kidnapping scenario of our highest dream together

    12:41 http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=ipn0qeOTOu0
    7 days 6 nights - the 13cycle of plumed serpent's cosmical photon - inscripts - 9 levels of consciousness added - oct 2011 set the direction feminine –not one mayan cosmic alignment
    - date inscriptions are as of their nature no galactic freakshows

    galactic maya are now a bunch of different people -people living in freedom unity distantly shimmering . 2004 venus transit across the sundisc . 5th june this year- nice in us . europe it's evening - hardly visible ....7h sun discCrossing gathering... finding our connection as species

    13:04 denying convo... stil'l or just tempo rarily....All we do by speaking is provide distortions... http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Hr5GxN3C8uw


    today we witness an almost uncontained hyper use of force -military force in international relations, force that is plunging the world into an abyss of permanent conflict

    disdain of basic principals a political expediency about current political climate becoming dangerous

    questioning unhumanly nato-interventions
    the threat of unilateral decision making …and the blue-eyedness of nato-allies


    before those of german ch. merkel13:55


    Hope your day goes according to the distortions that make you feel in-sync and growth continues for all...
    now NOW + usual distortion/resistance pains≠>>>>>>>>=≠ UNITy

    a Oneness that has areas in the one multi-dimensionality that is way beyond where you and I are this day... it is not right or wrong... it is simply part of the infinite One Source which we can refer to as Creator-ing....One-Mess in the Oneness... A reminder! Surges of energy are entering our nervous system affecting our physical bodies, our emotional/mental body and blurring the lines of reality. I’m not even sure I can explain what that means, but so-called reality seems a bit fuzzy at times, along with the flow of time itself. And the sun… what’s up with the sun? The light seems different somehow and yet I can’t quite put my finger on it. It seems “old” or diffused… the shadows seem long even at mid-day.

    .All physical and non-physical Reptilians, Draconians, Archons and all other dark entities have been already completely cleared from the whole universe, galaxy and our solar system, except from a small surface layer of planet Earth.

    You can now only find any dark forces in two places:
    The first place is
    the etheric plane and lower astral plane (4th dimension) in a thin layer around the surface profile of the Earth, extending 8.6 miles in both direction at most. Great majority of those discarnate dark entities are in the immediate surface layer which extends no more than 60 feet in both directions (upwards and downwards from the surface profile). Most of those entities tend to concentrate in heavily populated areas, there are very few entities where pristine nature is preserved. Those dark entities consist of a small group of Archons, a larger group of Draconians, even larger group of Reptilians and vast number of amoeba-like elemental beings. There is a war going on now on the etheric and lower astral plane during which dark entities are being removed by the non-physical light warriors. This etheric and astral liberation operation is known under codename Pandora.

    The second and the last place where you can find any dark forces is the physical plane on the surface of planet Earth. Dark forces consist of a few dozens Archons (found mostly in Jesuit circles), a few hundred Draconians (found among Illuminati banking cartel) and a few thousand Reptilians (found in private mercenary armies such as KBR and Academi-former Blackwater). Those beings will be removed with the coming mass arrests.


    So there is still a war going on but we are close to victory and the planet will be liberated.
    The fact that Archons came from the Andromeda galaxy thousands and in some cases even millions of years ago does not mean that everybody coming from Andromeda is on the dark side. In fact Andromeda galaxy is famous for some very bright heroes of the Light forces. Angels, galactic beings, people who’ve made the transition we call “death” – none of them exist, right? Well, now that’s a problem because they do.
    If I told you that Archangel Michael is playing a leading role in things, or that Jesus and Buddha will be returning as part of the whole scenario, or that enlightened beings from Arcturus, Sirius and the Pleiades are here, how would you react?
    So why don’t we leave the specifics till later. All you need to know for now, until they arrive in the not-so-distant future, is that everything’s laid on. The details are all worked out. All is a Divine Plan that affects not only Earth but this universe we’re in, and there’s nothing connected with it that you need fear. You don’t fear your grandmother or grandfather, do you? Well, we’re about to be joined by family too, our cosmic grandmothers and grandfathers, we could say (Stbeckow).


    Since the Draco & Hydra Reptilians and their reptilian human/hybrids have been removed from Earth what is left are human ‘Controllers’ the dark agenda groups, ‘Powers that Be’, etc.

    The various dark agenda groups of humans are now fighting among themselves for the role of what you on Earth would call ‘top dog’ position. They do have some technology that can control humanity, but as humans they do not have the powerful telepathic mind control that reptilians do. Dark agenda groups know that their lives are being cut short by the lack of assistance from the powerful reptilians. They are scrambling for some sense of control. And, they are scattered on the Earth in smaller groups. They still think that they can maintain the secrecy of their coded groups. Many dark agenda group members do not know that they have been lied to throughout the centuries. They erroneously believed that they were doing a service to humanity while they kept their coded secrets quiet.succumbed to for so centuries was simply that of being servants to malevolent ‘gods’, so to speak. Keep in mind these are not “gods”. These reptilians are simply only lower vibration, 4th dimensional beings – with different natural capabilities & greater technical knowledge than us people of Earth.

    Jung's angle seems to be the only one that fits the bill of what is actually happening by bridging outer and inner, personal and mythological, physical and psychic. Personally, I'm fascinated to both observe and experience - largely through my own dreams and through relating to abductees - the emergence of a new mythology that's transposing all the old themes - gods and devils, star-beings and wise teachers descending from the sky - into a new context and form. When you're in a myth, you usually don't recognize it as one (do fish feel wet?:-) Every archetype takes us on a journey to become functional, empowered and conscious men and women

    The intense emotional ambivalence (symptomatic of archetype activation) - inscribed by the poles of fear and love.
    ……detached from current Earth 3D - Space/Ti me - unaffected by body form they inhabit, there are some egos out there that already think they are the rulers of all). ⁄They do not necessarily stand on our material plan, and that is precisely what could make them extremely efficient and frightening. being aware of their presence is changing negative energy into positive and To defend yourselves against this aggression that bears no face, you need at least to have enough information that leads to the solution.

    Peace and reunification of your peoples would be a first step toward the harmony with civilisations other than yours...

    breathe and let all the power of your own free will penetrate you. Be proud of what you are ! The problems that you may have weaken you. Forget about them for a few minutes to be yourselves. Feel the force that springs up in you. You are in control of yourselves !Your individual decision of asking in your inner self that we show up on your material plan and in broad daylight is precious and essential to us.
    Even though you can choose the way that best suits you!

    rituals are essentially useless. A sincere request made with your heart and your own will will always be perceived by those of us whom it is sent to. In your own private polling booth of your secret will, you will determine the future.
    the wish of humanity's preconscious outcry under massive attack sponsored the appearance of " massive parades of ships from other star systems present in oUR skies now, while the petitioners suffering from post hypnotic stress, et, voilà, maintenant heinous reptilian programs being disconnected, while You are the ones who are doing this disconnection...

    en case de humans' resistance : at current state of affairs in psychicism, it is extremely difficult for you to distinguish between parties. There exist amongst all those dominant races still tendencies into all directions (of un/pre/sub/hyperconscious) 'gestalt'-timeline-choosing .
    Here again, appearance will not be enough to tell the dominator from the ally..


    In addition to your intuition, training will be necessary when the time has come. to find the smallest common denominator, lol.

    DOM who lives in your house…
    a DEMON change mon nom…
    and...

    DENOMin a toUR/
    to fancy


    our dream…..s come true



    the heartilted-tellURic serpent rainbow power : ally, healer, and teacher of humanity in globally bent timespace
    the iron in the cytochromes of every cell are magnetically phased

    could it be polarized…
    polarized countercockwise

    Extrapolating upon these findings,
    the body can take any shape
    - opposite polarities embracing - by taste
    …..and shades of things resembling more of a disaster
    "If we don't put our batteries in right it wont work.
    "
    http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-65173645159783472#docid=-7282042506328608724

    of course, such activities take place away from flat timespace
    in the globally bent timespace called the Underworld.

    Any nonconductor of electricity is capacitant:
    oil, fat, styrofoam, cloth, lymphatic fluid, etc. Brain cells are mostly composed of lipids, fat. our innermost spark of liveli-hood displaced into the underworld
    …ııı…In real life, covered by piles of fear

    Fear is used as a tool to keep the mass populace in their place, so that there is no challenging of the PTB. It is pathetic that people are used in this way, but unless the population WAKES UP real fast, they are going to be in for a big surprise. Fear can be overcome, and both, Capitalist Welfarism and Bolshevik Socialism are exposed as masquerade behind a veil of democratic electoral processes. a sham-candidates camouflage approved by the hidden controllers of the systems. The Bolshevik system was a little more honest in that its preselection process typically produced only one candidate. While the capstone of this slavemodel of both clandestinely corroborating parties still is that individuals and communities cannot decide their own priorities, their resources mustered to be invested in war, dna-changing and psychic control.
    If we don't place a spanner in the cogs of this monsterous machine, then it is literally all over. http://hipcrime.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/what-if-collapse-happened-and-nobody.html

    your core, your inner constant. This is your orientation point in a world that is wobbling like a
    blue-beam-baloon gotten out of control .

    enlarge… and multiply
    You cannot do this by yourself. Pieces of your solution to this transformation are out in the world with other like-minded souls. All the pieces to this transformation are spread out among all of you. This is why you need like-minded ones around you. These waves are too large to surf alone. You must do this together. Remember that this is a universal shift and recalibration . . . not just a planetary one. We are shifting with you, as well as Ascended Masters and Angelic Realms. We are all transforming together as ONE in unity. If you are in the path of the shadow of this eclipse, the download will be quicker, more complete and graceful. You will become the living messengers for this new download for the rest of the world that did not have the luxury to travel into the eclipse path. Sovereign living requires mental muscle, spiritual maturity and physical effort

    It is important to know IT IS YOU that must “command your space” and claim your sovereign right to State the Action of your Authority. The God Source and Christ Force, do not attack or manipulate, however, they Protect and Defend .At this time in the planet fields, there is an aggressive use of the following Negative Alien and Grey technologies: static frequency fences, energy phasing distortions, soul imaging and capturing technology, holographic inserts and projections,

    These crying babies in adult bodies, have been given a sociopathic mind along with a blood thirst for power, and run amok like they own the place, and the people in it. Like a two year old with its favorite toy, shrieking out, “MINE!!” This spiritual immaturity is very easy to manipulate and is easily dispensable, as there is no such thing as loyalty (or heavenly afterlife) in the hungry and distorted Reptilian brain. http://deniselefay.wordpress.com/2012/05/04/lisa-renees-may-2012-report/

    We would encourage each one of you to avoid situations that are not yours. Allow others to work these out among themselves. Interference only slows the process of awakening, and can not assist those involved. Those with large hearts, should stand apart.


    This one recently wrote, “Source is now kicking anything with lower vibrations in the okole (rear end). Only if the okole owners rise up in consciousness, namely, let go of their anchors, whatever anchors they have, and go with the flow of Source, will they make it to the new world.” That is right on. The new world has no place for the lower frequencies, and lower paradigms, which have lost their relevance, years ago. They will not function at all.

    I would like to advise caution against dividing the world into two types of people, those who are of the tribe and those who are not. How often have you felt like an alien in a world of people who don't get it and don't care? The irony is that nearly everyone feels that way, deep down. When we are young the feeling of mission and the sense of magnificent origins and a magnificent destination is strong. Any career or way of life lived in betrayal of that knowing is painful, and can only be maintained through an inner struggle that shuts down a part of our being. For a time, we can keep ourselves functioning through various kinds of addictions or trivial pleasures to consume the life force and dull the pain. In earlier times, we might have kept the sense of mission and destiny buried for a lifetime, and called that condition maturity. Times are changing now though, as millions of people are awakening to their mission all at the same time. The condition of the planet is waking us up. Another way to put it, is that we are becoming young again.



    how to catch a banker (example china)
    own your own private polling booth of your secret will, you will determine the future.
    Everything that you see on the planet was once daydreamed. It then became “reality”. And I am not just talking about technology, art, buildings, religions, ideologies, countries… and other “human” constructed objects and ideas. Even the “physical” ground you walk on, the trees, flowers, animals, the planet, the entire universe, was once (and still is) but a dream dreamed in conscious awareness.
    So, what exactly is a daydream? Wikipedia has a lovely sentence to describe it: “Daydreaming is a short-term detachment from one’s immediate surroundings, during which a person’s contact with reality is blurred and partially substituted by a visionary fantasy, especially one of happy, pleasant thoughts, hopes or ambitions, imagined as coming to pass, and experienced while awake.”

    Does not fit your present 3d reality?
    With time the pain of feeling Homesick lessens and we settle into our physical Earth lives and pre-incarnational Soul Contracts and just do what we’re here now to do. But there’s always the longing to be in a like-Home space, dimension, or world with like-frequency Family and friends once again.
    You're not feeling bad because your own actions have brought you to a bad place. You're in a new place, and that old struggle muscle, which is completely inappropriate for the new place, keeps trying to do what it's used to doing. . Bliss is your natural state. You go in and out of this state many times in the day. Many things bring you out of it. You are learning to monitor this, and not allow your thoughts to drift into lower vibrations, more and more.
    You may not recognize Bliss at times. For it is becoming more and more a part of you in these days of parting 3rd dimensional thought. Breathing in that feeling of Bliss in the moment will help you to sustain it.

    The love in your hearts that you are cultivating more and more is expanding your reality of Bliss and Joy, dear ones. When it comes into your heart, goes found and round,
    Do you know the warm progress under the stars? Do you know we exist?

    revel in it and feel it deeply. Be still and take it in. You can even see it in your minds-eye and feel it in your body. Take note of it and expand it and allow it and just be in it.



    -- but in general everything within the high-rise was NORMAL.

    As the night progressed, the sounds of continuous revelry filled the building.
    Beginning with the lower floors, the parties spread upwards through the
    apartment block, investing it in an armour of light and festivity. Standing on
    his balcony, Royal listened to the ascending music and laughter as he waited
    for the two young women to dress. Far below him, a car drove along the access
    road to the nearby high-rise, its three occupants looking up at the hundreds
    of crowded balconies. Anyone seeing this ship of lights would take for granted
    that the two thousand people on board lived together in a state of corporate
    euphoria.

    Invigorated by this tonic atmosphere, Anne and Jane Sheridan had made a rapid
    recovery.

    Anne no longer referred to their leaving the high-rise, and seemed to have
    forgotten that she had ever made the decision to go. The rough and tumble in
    the junior school had given her that previously missing sense of solidarity
    with the other tenants of the high-rise. In the future, violence would clearly
    become a valuable form of social cement. As Royal escorted her to the first
    party of the evening, given by a newspaper columnist on the 37th floor, she
    and Jane strolled arm in arm, buoyed up by reports of further confrontations,
    and by the news that two more floors, the
    6th and 14th, were now in darkness.

    Pangbourne congratulated Royal on this, almost as if he believed that Royal
    was responsible. No one, even on the top floors, seemed aware of the contrast
    between the well-groomed revellers and the dilapidated state of the building.
    Along corridors strewn with uncollected garbage, past blocked disposal chutes
    and vandalized elevators, moved men in well-tailored dinner-
    jackets. Elegant women lifted long skirts to step over the debris of broken
    bottles. The scents of expensive after-shave lotions mingled with the aroma of
    kitchen wastes.
    These bizarre contrasts pleased Royal, marking the extent to which these
    civilized and self-possessed professional men and women were moving away from
    any notion of rational behaviour.
    He thought of his own confrontation with Wilder, which summed up all the
    forces in collision within the high-rise. Wilder had obviously begun his
    ascent of the building again, and had climbed as far as the 15th floor. By
    rights the high-rise should be totally deserted except for Wilder and himself.

    The real duel would be resolved among the deserted corridors and abandoned
    apartments of the building inside their heads, watched only by the birds.
    Now that she had accepted it, the threat of violence in the air had matured
    Anne. Standing by the fireplace in the columnist's drawing-room, Royal watched
    her with affection. She was no longer flirting with the elderly businessmen
    and young entrepreneurs, but listening intently to Dr Pangbourne, as if aware that the gynaecologist might be useful to her in more ways than the purely professional. Despite his pleasure in displaying her to the other residents, Royal felt far more protective of her. This sexual territoriality extended to Jane Sheridan.
    "Have you thought about moving in with us?" he asked her. "Your own apartment is very much exposed." "I'd like to -- Anne did mention it. I've already brought some things over."

    Royal danced with her in the garbage-stacked hallway, openly feeling her
    strong hips and thighs, as if this inventory established his claim to these
    portions of her body at a future date.
    Hours later, at some period after midnight when it seemed to Royal that these
    parties had been going on for ever, he found himself drunk in an empty
    apartment on the 39th floor. He was lying back on a settee with Jane against
    his shoulder, surrounded by tables loaded with dirty glasses and ashtrays, all
    the debris of a party abandoned by its guests. The music from the balconies
    nearby was overlaid by the noise of sporadic acts of violence. Somewhere a
    group of residents was shouting in a desultory way, hammering on the doors of
    an elevator shaft.
    A power failure had switched out the lights. Royal lay back in the darkness,
    steadying his slowly rotating brain against the illumination of the nearby
    high-rise. Without thinking, he began to caress Jane, stroking her heavy
    breasts. She made no attempt to pull herself away from him. A
    few moments later, when the electric power returned, lighting up a single
    table-lamp lying on the floor of the balcony, she recognized Royal and settled
    herself across him.
    Hearing a noise from the kitchen, Royal looked round to see his wife sitting
    at the table in her long gown, one hand on the electric coffee-percolator as
    it began to warm. Royal put his arms around Jane and embraced her with
    deliberate slowness, as if repeating for his wife's benefit a slow-motion
    playback. He knew that Anne could see them, but she sat quietly at the kitchen
    table, lighting a cigarette. During the sexual act that followed she watched
    them without speaking, as if she approved, not from any fashionable response to marital infidelity, but from what Royal realized was a sense of tribal solidarity, a complete deference to the clan leader.


    10/The Drained Lake

    Soon after dawn the next morning, Robert Laing sat on his balcony on the 25th
    floor, eating a frugal breakfast and listening to the first sounds of activity
    in the apartments around him. Already a few residents were leaving the
    building on their way to work, picking their way through the debris underfoot
    towards their garbage-speckled cars. Several hundred people still left each
    day for their offices and studios, airports and auction-rooms. Despite the
    scarcity of water and heating, the men and women were well dressed and
    groomed, their appearance giving no hint of the events of the previous weeks.
    However, without realizing it, many of them would spend much of their time at
    their offices asleep at their desks.
    Laing ate his slice of bread with methodical slowness. Sitting there on the
    cracked balcony tiles, he felt like a poor pilgrim who had set out on a
    hazardous vertical journey and was performing a simple but meaningful ritual
    at a wayside shrine.
    The previous night had brought total chaos -- drunken parties, brawls, the
    looting of empty apartments and assaults on any isolated resident. Several
    more floors were now in darkness, including the 22nd, where his sister Alice
    lived. Hardly anyone had slept. Amazingly, few people showed any signs of
    fatigue, as if the economy of their lives was switching from day to night.
    Laing half-suspected that the insomnia so many of his neighbours had suffered
    had been some kind of unconscious preparation for the emergency ahead. He
    himself felt alert and confident -- despite the bruises on his shoulders and
    arms, he was physically in fine trim. At eight o'clock he intended to clean
    himself up and leave for the medical school.

    Laing had spent the early part of the night straightening Charlotte Melville's
    apartment, which had been ransacked by intruders while she and her small son
    were sheltering with friends.
    Later, he had helped to guard an elevator which his neighbours had seized for
    a few hours. Not that they had gone anywhere -- having commandeered the
    elevator what mattered was to hold it for an effective psychological interval.

    The evening had begun, as usual, with a party held by Paul Crosland,
    television newsreader and now clan chief. Crosland had been delayed at the
    studios, but his guests watched him deliver the nine-o'clock news, speaking in
    his familiar, well-modulated voice about a rush-hour pile-up in which six
    people had died. As his neighbours stood around the television set, Laing
    waited for Crosland to refer to the equally calamitous events taking place in the
    high-rise, the death of the jeweller (now totally forgotten), and the division
    of the tenants into rival camps. Perhaps, at the end of the newscast, he would
    add a special message for his clan members at that moment fixing their drinks
    among the plastic rubbish-sacks in his living-room.

    By the time Crosland arrived, swerving into the apartment in his fleece-lined
    jacket and boots like a returning bomber pilot, everyone was drunk. Flushed
    and excited, Eleanor Powell swayed up to Laing, pointing hilariously at him
    and accusing him of trying to break into her apartment. Everyone cheered this
    news, as if rape was a valuable and well-tried means of bringing clan members
    together.

    "A low crime-rate, doctor," she told him amiably, "is a sure sign of social
    deprivation."

    Drinking steadily and without any self-control, Laing felt the alcohol bolt
    through his head. He knew that he was deliberately provoking himself,
    repressing any reservations about the good sense of people such as Crosland.
    On a practical level, being drunk was almost the only way of getting close to
    Eleanor Powell. Sober, she soon became tiresomely maudlin, wandering about the
    corridors in a vacant way as if she had lost the key to her own mind. After a
    few cocktails she was hyper-animated, and flicked on and off like a confused
    TV monitor revealing glimpses of extraordinary programmes which Laing could
    only understand when he was drunk himself. Although she kept overruling
    everything he said, tripping over the plastic garbage-sacks under the bar, he
    held her upright, excited by the play of her hands across his lapels. Not for
    the first time Laing reflected that he and his neighbours were eager for
    trouble as the most effective means of enlarging their sex lives.
    value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9YTbn8sEIQ0?version=3&feature=player_detailpage"> name="allowFullScreen" value="true">name="allowScriptAccess" value="always">src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9YTbn8sEIQ0?version=3&feature=player_detailpage"
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    allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="360">


    Laing emptied the coffee-percolator over the edge of the balcony. A greasy
    spray hung across the face of the building, the residue of the cascade of
    debris now heaved over the side without a care whether the wind would carry it
    into the apartments below. He carried his breakfast tray into the kitchen. The
    continuing failure of the electricity supply had destroyed the food in the
    refrigerator. Bottles of sour milk stood in a mould-infested line. Rancid
    butter dripped through the grilles. The smell of this rotting food was not
    without its appeal, but Laing opened a plastic sack and scooped everything
    into it. He slung the sack into the corridor, where it lay in the dim light
    with a score of others.
    A group of his neighbours was arguing in the elevator lobby, voices raised. A
    minor confrontation was developing between them and the 28th-floor residents.
    Crosland was bellowing aggressively into the empty elevator shaft. Usually, at this early hour of the day, Laing would have paid no attention to him. Too often Crosland had no idea what he was arguing about -- confrontation was enough.

    Without his make-up, the expression of outrage on his face made Crosland resemble an announcer tricked for the first time into reading an item of bad news about himself.
    From the shadows outside his door the orthodontic surgeon emerged with studied
    casualness.
    Steele and his hard-faced wife had been standing among the garbage-sacks for
    some time, keeping an eye on everything. He sidled up to Laing and took his
    arm in a gentle but complex grip, the kind of hold he might have used for an
    unusual extraction. He pointed to the floors above.
    "They want to seal the doors permanently," he explained. "They're going to
    re-wire two of the elevator circuits so that they move non-stop from the
    ground floor to the 28th."
    "What about the rest of us?" Laing asked. "How do we leave the building?"
    "My dear Laing, I don't suppose they care very much about us. Their real
    intention is to divide the building in half -- here, at the 25th floor. This
    is a key level for the electrical services. By knocking out the three floors
    below us they will have a buffer zone separating the top half of the building
    from the lower. Let's make sure, doctor, that when this happens we are on the
    right side of the buffers . . ."

    He broke off as Laing's sister approached, carrying her electric coffee-pot.
    With a bow, Steele moved away through the shadows, his small feet stepping
    deftly among the garbage sacks, the centre parting of hair gleaming in the
    faint light. Laing watched him slide noiselessly into his apartment. No doubt
    Steele would pick his way with equal skill through the hazards ahead. He never
    left the building now, Laing had noticed. What had happened to that ruthless
    ambition? After the battles of the past weeks he was presumably banking on an
    imminent upsurge in the demand for advanced surgery of the mouth.
    As Laing greeted Alice he realized that she too would be excluded if the
    surgeon was right, living in the darkness on the wrong side of the dividing
    line with her alcoholic husband.
    She had come up ostensibly to plug her coffeepot into the power point in
    Laing's kitchen, but when they entered the apartment she left it absently on
    the hall table. She walked on to the balcony and stared into the morning air,
    as if glad to have the three extra floors beneath her.
    "How is Charles?" Laing asked. "Is he at the office?"
    "No . . . He's taken some leave. Terminal, if you ask me. What about you? You
    shouldn't neglect your students. At the present rate we're going to need every
    one of them."
    "I'm going in this morning. Would you like me to have a look at Charles on my
    way ?"
    Alice ignored this offer. She grasped the handrail and began to rock herself like a child.
    "It's peaceful up here. Robert, you've no idea what it's like for most people."
    Laing laughed aloud, amused by Alice's notion that somehow he had been
    unaffected by events in the high-rise -- the typical assumption of a martyred
    older sister forced during her childhood to look after a much younger brother.
    "Come whenever you want to." Laing put his arm around her shoulders, steadying
    her in case she lost her balance. In the past he had always felt physically
    distanced from Alice by her close resemblance to their mother,
    but for reasons
    not entirely sexual this resemblance now aroused him.
    He wanted to touch her hips, place his hand over her breast. As if aware of
    this, she leaned passively against him.
    "Use my kitchen this evening," Laing told her. "From what I've heard,
    everything is going to be chaotic. You'll be safer here."
    "All right -- but your apartment is so dirty."
    "I'll clean it for you."

    A few floors up or down, laterally to the other end of a corridor, a covert but nonetheless substantial movement of marital partners was taking place.
    Charlotte Melville was now involved with a statistician on the 29th floor, and had almost vacated her apartment. Laing had watched her leave without resentment.

    Charlotte needed someone who would bring out her forcefulness and grit.
    Thinking about her, Laing felt a pang of regret that he himself had found no
    one. But perhaps Alice would give him the practical support he needed, with
    her now unfashionable dedication to the domestic virtues. Although he disliked
    her shrewish manner, with its unhappy reminders of their mother, it gave him
    an undeniable sense of security.
    Holding her shoulders, he looked up at the roof of the high-rise. It seemed
    months since he had last visited the observation deck, but for the first time
    he felt no urge to do so. He would build his dwelling-place where he was, with
    this woman and in this cave in the cliff face.

    When his sister had gone, Laing began to prepare for his visit to the medical school.
    Sitting on the kitchen floor, he looked up at the unwashed plates and utensils
    stacked in the sink. He was leaning comfortably against a plastic sack filled
    with rubbish. Seeing the kitchen from this unfamiliar perspective, he realized
    how derelict it had become. The floor was strewn with debris, scraps of food
    and empty cans. To his surprise, Laing counted six garbage-sacks --
    for some reason he had assumed that there was only one.
    Laing wiped his hands on his dirt-stained trousers and shirt. Reclining
    against this soft bed of his own waste, he felt like going to sleep. With an
    effort he roused himself. A continuous decline had been taking place for some
    time, a steady erosion of standards that affected, not only the apartment, but
    his own personal habits and hygiene. To some extent this was forced on him by
    the intermittent water and electricity supply, the failure of the
    garbage-disposal system. But it also reflected a falling interest in civilized
    conventions of any kind. None of his neighbours cared what food they ate.
    Neither Laing nor his friends had prepared a decent meal for weeks, and had
    reached the point where they opened a can at random whenever they felt hungry.
    By the same token, no one cared what they drank, interested only in getting
    drunk as quickly as possible and blunting whatever sensibilities were left to
    them. Laing had not played one of his carefully built-up library of records for weeks.

    Even his language had begun to coarsen.

    He picked at the thick rims of dirt under his nails. This decline, both of
    himself and his surroundings, was almost to be welcomed. In a way he was
    forcing himself down these steepening gradients, like someone descending into
    a forbidden valley. The dirt on his hands, his stale clothes and declining
    hygiene, his fading interest in food and drink, all helped to expose a more
    real version of himself.

    Laing listened to the intermittent noises from the refrigerator. The
    electricity had come on again, and the machine was sucking current from the
    mains. Water began to trickle from the taps as the pumps started to work.
    Spurring himself on with Alice's criticisms, Laing wandered around the
    apartment, doing what he could to straighten the furniture. But half an hour
    later, as he carried a garbage-sack from the kitchen into the hallway, he
    suddenly stopped. He dropped the sack on to the floor, realizing that he had
    achieved nothing -- all he was doing was rearranging the dirt.
    Far more important was the physical security of the apartment, particularly
    while he was away. Laing strode down the long bookcase in the sitting-room,
    pulling his medical and scientific text-books on to the floor. Section by
    section, he wrenched out the shelving. He carried the planks into the hall,
    and for the next hour moved around the apartment, transforming its open
    interior into a home-made blockhouse. All pieces of heavy furniture, the
    dining-table and a hand-carved oak chest in his bedroom, he pulled into the hall. With the armchairsand desk he constructed a solid barricade. When he was satisfied with this hemoved his food supplies from the kitchen into the bedroom. His resources weremeagre, but would keep him going for several days --
    bags of rice, sugar and salt, cans of beef and pork, and a stale loaf of bread.

    Now that the air-conditioning had ceased, the rooms soon became stuffy.
    Recently Laing had noticed a strong but not unpleasant smell, the
    characteristic odour of the apartment -- himself.

    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    Re: the hi¡… rise, the cube, diesnayeLands …atheHoop…

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Tue May 15, 2012 6:40 pm

    Dedicate in order to Equalize
    I Universalize Opportunity
    I seal the store of death
    With the Crystal tone of Cooperation
    I am guided by the power of Endlessness

    World-Bridger (Death)


    planetary seed planted, 244
    - spectralized, compartmentalized into its or/ i/ G/ inal forms on ….. Magic Turtle Alpha 12 - Kin 245,
    Red Snake in Spectral Moon of the Serpent



    it now tunes 12 cooperation
    WHITE CRYSTAL WORLDBRIDGER Kin 246 -
    I am the Hierophant
    coded by the six worlbridger
    Six is my number
    the root of the cube
    aim the great equalizer
    restoring balance to all worlds
    the sacred order of all dimensions
    illumines my being
    for i am the master of the arts of deathlessness
    that all true seekers must come to know
    death is the great inter dimensional realm of the galaxy
    the storehouse of my wisdom
    it is the hidden treasure chest free from fear
    skilled at the arts of bridging the worlds
    i am the great destroyer of illusion
    stripping the varnish of conventionalities
    that civilization overlays
    fathomlessly deep is the extent of my knowledge
    i reveal all, but only those that know can see what i reveal
    the rainbow is my crown
    perfect is the order i keep
    to know me is to die to your false self

    holds the treasury of death because he knows the balancing keys of the primal power of sex with death
    has to do with revelation, where it looks oppo-Tone to cross the frontiers of worlds. banks and biasses, wrongly identified 'id old's and/ -ent/ ifications…crystallized

    -it becomes comic
    Silio 14 - Kin 247 cosmic hand.
    I Endure in order to Know ITranscendHealing I seal the store of accomplishment ...


    whizz maGic Monkey /hand ing Wizzzd/end inG Eagle-Wavespell


    Ric Grech Eric Clapton, Steve Winwood, Ginger Baker all in best-form….click pt2, if you like drums…..Blind Faith


    Do right, use your head.
    
Everybody must be fed.

    Get together, break your bread.

    Yes, together, that's what I said.
    
Do what you like.


    Don't fight, use your head.
    
It's all right every night.

    Do what you like, that's what I said.

    Everybody must be fed.

    Do what you like.


    Open your eyes.
Realize you're not dead.

    Take a look at an open book.

    Do what you like, that's what I said.
 Do what you like.


    BOOK OF HOURS

    Collections of prayers, psalms and scripture, named "offices," recited at the canonical hours, in manuscripts only from the first century onward; however, they became very popular as the earliest printed books, many of which include woodcut illustrations.

    The 12 _ 60 Frequency taking form


    Prior to 1450, all books and important works were handwritten by scribes. This made them expensive and accessible by only a select few such as the Church and noblemen. But the arrival of 1450 marked the INCUNABULA period of print, as the ink-dipped pen was replaced by the printing press. Suddenly, hundreds of copies of a book could be printed and produced in a short period of time resulting in an explosion of knowledge and access to people of various social classes and cultures. The printing press signified the beginning of a revolution; in the next fifty years, over 200 European cities had printing presses and an estimated 30,000 titles and 15,000,000 books were in print.

    Every revolution has notable contributors which makes it come to pass. From Germany to Italy to France to England, the incunabula period produced a number of early printers whose contributions paved the way for the future of publishing as it is known today; their contributions should be duly noted.

    Germany is considered the “birthplace of the printing revolution,” …………… After studying under some of the great German printers of the incunabula period in Cologne, Claxton returned to England and began his printing press. He published the first books of England. Some of the great works he published included, “Recuyell of the Histories of Troy,” “The Game of Chess,” Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales” and Mallory’s “Morte d’Arthur” from 1474 to 1485. One of the most famous works he printed was “The Cypriot Letter of Indulgence" by Sistus IV to aid in the war against the Turks in 1484.

    crater of Vesuvius to make firsthand observations. :



    From his investigations and research, Kircher concluded that continually circulating channels of fire (for which volcanoes act as occasionally emerging safety valves) and water honeycombed the Earth's interior, and that these, in conjunction with the wind, were responsible for all weather and geological events.
    These ideas formed the thesis of Kircher's most popularly successful and renowned book, Mundus Subterranean1667
    Kircher saw magnetic attraction and repulsion as the lingua franca of all creation, governing friendship, love, sympathy, hatred, chemical
    reactions, planetary action, heliotropic and selenitropic plants, medicinal plants and stones, the wind, hydraulics, the tides, musical harmony; even the nature of God himself, whom Kircher deemed 'the Central Magnet of the Universe'. As Science verges on a workable unified field theory
    ,


    You have been held back, both technologically and spiritually, by a dark governance that fears your awakening and is covetous of your dormant collective powers. These fears drove this cabal to use a type of mind-control that diminishes your abilities and encourages you to perceive their dominion as immutable and permanent. This is now about to be seen for the illusion it is, and a whole new ethos put in place which is far more compatible with your divine natures. This new ethos will form the foundation of a fully conscious society.

    In the darkest despair a spark of hope lies inextinguishable within us, ready to be fanned into flames at the slightest turn of good news. However compelling the cynicism, a jejune idealism lives within us, always ready to believe, always ready to look upon new possibilities with fresh eyes, surviving despite infinite disappointments. And however resigned we may have felt, our aggrandizement of me and mine is half-hearted, for part of our energy is looking elsewhere, outward toward our true mission.
    ․The longing, indomitable, will never settle for a world that is less. Against all reason, we look upon the horrors of our age, mounting over the millennia, and we say NO, it does not have to be this way! We know it, because we have been there. We carry in our souls the knowledge that a more beautiful world is
    possible.
    Reason says it is impossible; reason says that even to slow - much less reverse - the degradation of the planet is an impossible task: politically unfeasible, opposed by the Money Power and its oligarchies. It is true that those powers will fight to uphold the world we have known. Their allies lurk within even ourselves: despair, cynicism, and resignation to carving out a life that is "good enough" for me and mine.
    ...
    These energies are very uncompromising in their determination to throw you off and into self-doubt. They may be intellectually savy, but they are powerless when it comes outwitting the will of the soul to break out of its limited identity.
    When you feel that sense of alienation, when you look upon that sea of faces around you mired so inextricably in the old world and fighting to maintain it, think back to a time when you too were, to all outside appearances, a full and willing participant in that world as well. The same spark of revolution you carried then, the same secret refusal, dwells in all people. How was it that you finally stopped fighting it? How was it that you came to realize that you were right all along, that the world offered to us is wrong, and that no life is worth living that does not in some way strive to create a better one? How was it that it became intolerable to devote your life energy toward the perpetuation of the old world? Most likely, it happened when the old world fell apart around your ears.
    ․Whenever I am blessed with such an experience, I get the sense that some benevolent yet pitiless power - the shaman in the story - has reached across the void to quicken me, to reorganize my DNA, to rewire my nervous system. I come away changed.
    "Is it possible that our mission will fail, and that this planet, earth, will perish?" The shaman replied, "I will answer your question with a paradox. It is impossible that your mission will fail. Yet, its success hangs on your own actions. The fate of the world is in your hands. The key to this paradox lies within you, in the feeling you carry that each of your actions, even your personal, secret struggles within, has cosmic significance. You will know then, as you do now, that everything you do matters. God sees everything.





    . they ain't done what was agreed to.



    "Drake: Not exactly. You’ve got people behind the scenes who are taken into custody and/or put under house arrest that’s not going to be in the mainstream news. The basis of what’s going to happen is very simple. We have set the country free through the notification process. The secondary part of that is that the military has assured its backing to us for the backing of the mass arrests scenario. The mass arrests scenario is going to be primarily all of your celebrity or well-known figures. You’re going to recognize a load of the names.”

    More highlights: as of April 13, 2012
    “The first that happens is the central banking system is going to be required to repay each and everything that they borrowed. Not us, them. This will bankrupt that corporation. Second part of this is a load, and I mean a heavy load, of criminal charges.

    Some people will probably want to shoot it out. That’s their problem.”

    “There’s going to be a worldwide reevaluation of currencies from a debt instrument to an equity instrument and that will facilitate considerable changes.
    Regarding Benjamin Fulford: “I am not going to confirm anything Fulford says because he is not in the inner loop at this point.”

    Regarding televised coverage: “There’s going to be a nice little public display of people going to jail. Basically you’re going to see people being stuck in the paddy wagon being taken to the FEMA camps they built for us. This is going to be one each and every last channel that they can acquire. My understanding is that the military can access any and all channels so it will probably be on each and every channel and you won’t be able to change what you’re watching.”

    and so on and so on…..
    -To date, and for whatever reason, our military have NOT performed as agreed.
    I do not take being put in harms way lightly.
    I offer that many believe that We The People could count on our military...?


    .they ain't having done what was agreed to.


    but near our sun...holly poop in the shades of solarflares

    how can we decode this massless archontic gauge, or" fearporn" -- to poison the well and keep people locked in a limited, hopeless worldview, keeping i.e. the 'mystery hidden before ourselves'

    12 00 13.․ one from the heart
    Communication occurs only between equals. Any relationship basal in the hierARCH¥ of mutually oppressing forces ie. mastr-slave, dictator-masses, king-serf etc only jams the communication potential born of mutual affinity, commitment to openness and empathy of being.

    mutual empowering is the anti gauge, trusting instead of scepticizing' inform not invade, seeing and adressing biasses that separate our force here…identify intruder signatures

    . Your physical forms are linked to the hydrogen atom in the water in each cell. Much will be discovered about the molecular structure inside the human cell. As light is focused on the planet, there will be a shift in the relation of these components with the resulting change in the capacity and constitution of the physical form.

    The modification of cellular structure and atomic structure through the use of waves of light invades a kind of humbleness, tested in every way concerning attributes of courage, loyalty and faith required to achieve the goal of perfection. An an eternity during preparation btw..-. with Colloidal silver water a lot of pharmaceutical products and doctors are not needed. It will ensure some level of survival when poverty hits us.





    sea of joy modern day destroyer version in rough seas
    is as if we are in a play and playing a character. and yet we have another identity beyond the character we play... Who knows how many plays and how many characters we play in this now. Parallel dimensions provide a trick to our 3D mindset. It is as if we at times find ourselves immersed in the 3D world of duality and then at times move into 4th dimension astral encounters... and perhaps other dimensions as well. It seems all of them happen now. The "son" may represent that inner child or pure essence that is present in all dimensions.

    If we are not used to the movement from dimension to dimension, it can be a bit startling at first. I suggest we get used to the astral connections beyond our "normal" third dimensional world. As we embrace the ONE reality, we begin to experience the infinite and the possibilities of infinity. Only our viewpoints that have been domesticated into us through the 3rd dimensional mass consciousness act as illusory limits to what is possible.

    Multi-dimensionality points to the possibility we are connected and open to all that IS... which, in my particular distortion, is the Creatoring Mystery of WE/ONE..


    -- appeared in an exhibition held in Greenwich Village, New York, 1919.

    Aiwass' name is intriguingly similar to Egyptian Antiquities expert Zahi Hawass, both derived from Horus. It was Crowley's goal through ritual magick and contact with non-human intelligent beings [angels or aliens] to bring to fruition the New Aeon of Horus. In 1919 Crowley drew a picture of an "extra-terrestrial" Intelligence with whom he was in astral contact, named Lam. -- "I was a being that had no emotional body, but pure mental energy- very lucid and aware mental energy, yet devoid of feelings- I was in empathy with the state of being of this gray ETs-Zeta Reticulan"

    (note: of the Grey races, the prime ancestor race - the original Reticulans from the binary star system Reticuli - the ones who in their waning days exhibited awareness of themselves, their fallibility, and the fragility of life, and realizing the pending death of their race - these original Zeta Reticulans not affiliated with the Draco Reptilians, were willing to share all they had learned. Due to their humility, the Andromeda Council intervened, stepped in and helped relocate them to a completely different star system. These people, the original Zeta Reticulans, no longer live in the Zeta Reticuli star system.
    )
    Reconnaissance Orbiter shows matrtian landscape

    And Cain responses "I am not my brothers keeper"



    Yet in this day and age many people feel they are not their brothers keeper.



    But if not... who is?

    and Hubble shows canal system
    In the Hopi tradition... we are our brothers keeper.


    needs a certain angle of openess and a willingness to sojourn the undepth of this deadly worldbridger archetype.

    with frequency 206 = Frequency of 11 Worldbridger and 10.6 Analog 106
    = Frequency of 2 Worldbridger,
    refers to the dissolution of the World Cycle of Mars, Kin 206 = Eve of 12.21.2012.

    dissolution of Terrestrial Cycle of History.===
    ===Kin Equivalent===(48)===*Solar House Of The Artist*==
    =


    Don’t subscribe to that which does not know itself.


    -It is written on page 65/66 about that in Cosmic History Chronicles Vol. 3 mystery:

    What are lost planet analphs?. In the cosmic science, thoughts in the form of analphs cannot be destroyed - not even by radioactivity and atomic bombs. That means that the thought form itself has a certain indestructibility - the only thing it can do is to transmigrate . (see contemplation of the transmigration of lost planet alphas in CHC \\˜).

    A dissonance that began in cosmic dimensions first incarnateed on maldek. This is the dissonance that we call "war". War is the dynamic dissociation that occurs during certain processes of synchronization that accompany the life of a star system.
    This dissonance can be traced in the lost interval of time in eternity which corresponds to the original ratio of seven (see CHC | )

    A circle of 360 degrees divided by seven is 1/7 of a circle, or 51 and 3/7 degrees (precisely the inclination leading to the pathway of the chamber of the king in the Great Pyramid) This passageway is equivalent in degrees to 1/7 of a circle. However when we divide the orbit of the earth (365days) by 7 we get 52 +1. This illustrates the lost interval of seven. This is all part of the history of the lost planet analphs.

    The lost time in eternity initially vibrates as a dissonant power of 7, creating dynamic fields that eventually give rise to the necessity of intelligence. Intelligence inevitably evolves the humanoid types capable of receiving and transmitting different levels of cosmic consciousness. Behind it all is the primal dissonant medium of the interval of lost time in eternity. This resonates as a subconscious parallel resonance waiting to be resolved into a higher harmonic. This is an indication of the attempt to reharmonize the interval of the lost seventh into the fractured psyche of the human which will remain in a fragmented state until it becomes harmonized at a higher frequency.

    This principle of the dissonant seventh is the cause of internal contradictions, in other words, every psyche is born with an eternal contradiction or conflict incentive to its soul grouth.; it is a memory of the lost interval of lost time in eternity. The challenge of life, soul growth and the evolution of the spirit are to overcome that dissonance and rbing the human frequency to a higher harmonic level, The Dissonance of the lost interval of time in eternity is also the basis of music-
    If we look at the seven musical notes do re mi fa so la ti and then the lost do, we see the essence of the lost chord.. This is seven + 1 the key to the sounding of the lost chord.. The frequency of the earth is 7,8 hertz, a fractal of 78, the key number in the decipherment of the meaning and mission of the tomb of Pacal Votan. 78 is also a fractal of 780, representing the number of days of the martiansynodic cycle as viewed from the earth. These are all resonant factors involved in the mystery of the lost planets analphs.
    and average satanic science refers to maldek as "planet x" so does the nabs following its debris….

    3 ~ A Course In Love ~


    Midwayer Commission in Paper 140:5 of The Urantia Book - P.1573 Fatherly Love #2

    ...Jesus did not expect his followers to achieve an impossible manifestation of brotherly love, but he did expect them to so strive to be like God--to be perfect even as the Father in heaven is perfect--that they could begin to look upon man as God looks upon his creatures and therefore could begin to love men as God loves them--to show forth the beginnings of a fatherly affection. In the course of these exhortations to the twelve apostles, Jesus sought to reveal this new concept of fatherly love as it is related to certain emotional attitudes concerned in making numerous environmental social adjustments.continuing with law of 13"…If you will be taught by the Spirit of Truth, never will there be conflict between the requirements of citizenship on earth and sonship in heaven unless the temporal rulers presume to require of you the homage and worship which belong only to God." P.1957 - §0

    "Each of you has come to a boxed canyon. You seem to be at the end of your rope and choices. Understand dear ones, you are being asked to move mountains, to change the molecular structure of what blocks your way, to walk through what keeps you less than, separating the seas of your life. Walk in empowerment knowing that you can shift what you commanded into existence. For every item in your life, in your closet, on your floor, and on your body – you commanded into existence. You created it into the physical world. I Buffalo Calf Woman ask you to love all of your creations --for God does not rebuke even one of his creations – he loves all of them, no matter how much the creation does not love itself. You are asked to take the posture of Creator and love what you have brought forth into your life.

    It is a pinhole in the cosmos, and the trueness of God shines through it. Dive through the moon into the sun within yourself. On the other side are, in exact conjunction with Sun, Moon the Pleiades and more synchronized galactic pathways thru to space.

    To the Maya, the Pleiades represent the handful of maize seeds from which the original humans were born.
    or is this what a monadig entity would be... From the higher perspective there are a number of great spirit beings of massive complexity that together have co-created this whole universe. Together they have expressed themselves into all the many dimensional levels that make up this universe. Each of these is a monadic entity and I speak for one such. We are present at every level of this universe including the 3rd dimension where you currently find yourself
    completely veiled to add a point

    But inside each being there is a connection to a greater being… an inner-self who is aware of itself as having had many incarnations. Many of them not on planet Earth. Many of them in the star cluster we call home: the Pleiades. And these inner-selves are also aware that they are a part of something greater yet; an oversoul that knows all such incarnations across space and time are really just figments of the imagination… illusory stories that it is telling itself so that it may understand itself better. And these oversouls are aware that they are a part of something even greater… a monadic entity that is aware that it is completely outside of space and time and that it has expressed itself into reality constructs without number…

    This universe is just one of an infinite number of playgrounds that it plays in.
    and while change is happening at an ever accelerating rate. Novelty… newness… accelerates. New thoughts about old situations are possible now in a way that they simply were not before. And when all your personalities from past lives emerge alternatively.
    new choices are what youhave to be willing to make - at a previously unimaginable pace.
    This is because this is not just the time of change but the time of ascension.

    Your soul is calling you Home
    .

    One of the greatest miracles that will happen this year will be the abolition of the Christian religion, where you will play the role of the Magician. And please do not reject this bold idea, while resorting to some subliminal, residual fears that may still lurk from your mental and emotional bodies; they must be almost completely free by now from any fear based patterns whatsoever. There has never been any entity with the name of Jesus Christ, There has been no crucifixion and no resurrection the way it has been presented in the New Testament

    But this process of returning Home is not without its pitfalls. So this is a delicate time. A time for carefully guided steps in the midst of breathtaking change. For many this will not be easy to accomplish. And so it is that I desire to help. I am serving as one of many mid-wives who are helping to birth your planetary civilisation from the darkness into the light.…and so are you LOL

    ABSOLUTELY! Team Dark as I call them all for short are both the non-human non-physical negative Aliens, negative Beings, negative Entities plus the living physical humans that both knowingly and unknowingly work for and with these negative other-dimensional Aliens/Beings/Entities. There are plenty of living humans who are used, manipulated, or possessed more fully by these non-physical negative other-dimensional Aliens/Beings/Entities and they do NOT know it at all. Some humans are aware however and simply do not care about the harm, damage, and pain their actions cause other humans, Earth and beyond because they are part of Team Dark too.

    This war, this battle is multidimensional and always has been. The big difference now is that the stakes are profoundly high due to the Ascension Process, the overriding of negative energies and timelines by Starseeds/Lightworkers/Indigos. Team Dark is fighting vigorously to not loose any more stolen human energies (their fuel and food sources) or their distorted, tweaked, and pirated inter-dimensional systems and tools etc. These battles are happening in the non-physical dimensions and this physical dimension too. As above so below. It’s just finally much, much more easily perceived now in 2012 is all.

    Because of this down to the wire battle with these last atrociest vestiGeeees this year,
    we’ve all got to keep ourselves energetically protected at all times. Keep your body/bodies protected and your energy/life force protected as well as your physical homes and other physical possessions. We are multidimensional beings and we’re having to deal with this fact, especially now in 2012 as the stakes amplify with different timelines branching off of old ones and each of them heading in VERY different directions! invisible frequency fences and restrictions.

    it my own stupid uncenteredness or what………was that my mental focus was instantaneously shifted to some silly, non-related something. Not once, not twice, not even three times but about eighteen or twenty times! It was so frustrating and I was not in control of directing my mental focus and thoughts.

    The mental focus shift (mental derailment, kidnapping, explosion, interference) happened so fast that it took me a few moments to realize that it had even happened! It was like I’d been slung-shot off into some other mental location repeatedly to prevent me from completing the practice. Never forget that the thoughts and worries are also another aspect of this negative interference that comes from the distortions and other limitations the Dark placed in our Mental Bodies. You have to stop thinking the hell out of every step of this Process and just surrender and dive in with the non-intellectual KNOWING that this is how to do this. When you find yourself over thinking things, say either out loud or in your heartmind, “I AM GOD, I AM SOVEREIGN, I AM FREE” . Know this and feel it in every inch of your body and being and then pay attention to what changes in you and around you.

    Know that these difficulties are not you being mentally lazy, inadequate or undisciplined but that it’s negative interference trying to prevent you from energetically escaping. Fight it. Don’t give in to it. Get back in the visualization or meditation or whatever it was that you were doing before you were blasted out of it by Team Dark’s frequency fences and other vile control devices and keep fighting until you can complete the meditation/visualization. Go into determined Light Warrior Mode when needed, find the strongest protection you can and are used to imagine, otherwise you’ll be constantly suppressed and held in place by the negative’s many frequency fences. It can be done but it’s often a real fight to break through their negative barriers and reach a higher frequency level.



    The frequency of brainwaves varies among different mental states, indicating the amount of neuronal activity in the brain. Delta waves (below 4 Hz) are the longest waves and occur mostly during deep sleep. Theta waves (5-8 Hz) are seen most commonly in young children and in drowsy adults, often as an entree to sleep. Alpha waves (8-12 Hz) are the waves of an relaxed, non-aroused mind. Beta waves (12-30 Hz) are fast and low amplitude and are characteristics of an engaged mind. And finally gamma waves (30-100 Hz) are the highest in frequency and are thought to represent the synchronization of different brain areas as they carry out certain cognitive or motor functions. It is important to realize that the brain never produces just one type of these brain waves; they all occur simultaneously, but their ratios will change depending on one's mental state.

    When sleeping deeply there is no body.
    But underlying all that is the true "I" which is the state of freedom from conceit, ego, body... that which will never perish.


    for those who don't meditate….

    Candle Gazing is good
    for lowering brain frequencies...

    Focusing attention slows us down
    .
    negativity cannot contend with such a focussed, determined and positive state
    Where we meet the other realities.

    Daydreaming is good too…Synoptical precession

    When
    The Age of Horus Dawns,"," hang in there and when needed fight with the last fractions of trust and impeccability that survived the battering ongoing frustrations… you are and then rip the shit out of these 'incunabilalees' distortion µ~µ frequencies / fences and other etheric control devices. You will get there and it will be good, very good.
    i am another noo ....
    McDonald's food doesn't decompose if left to dry out. Seriously, just google it. As such archaeologists from the future will be digging this stuff up thousands of years in the future. Especially if something cataclysmic happens to our society.



    ….the characteristic odour of the apartment -- himself.

    Laing stripped off his grimy sports-shirt and washed himself in the last water
    flowing from the shower. He shaved and put on a fresh shirt and suit. If he
    visited the medical school looking like a tramp he might give away to some
    sharp-eyed colleague what was actually going on in the high-rise. He examined
    himself in the wardrobe mirror. The gaunt, white-skinned figure with a bruised
    forehead standing awkwardly in an over-large business suit looked totally
    unconvincing, like a discharged convict in his release suit blinking at the
    unfamiliar daylight after a long prison-sentence.
    After tightening the bolts on the front door, Laing let himself out of the apartment.

    Fortunately, leaving the high-rise was easier than moving around within it.
    Like an unofficial subway service, one elevator still travelled by mutual
    consent to and from the main entrance lobby during office hours. However, the
    atmosphere of tension and hostility, the complex of overlapping internal
    sieges, was apparent everywhere. Barricades of lobby furniture and plastic
    sacks filled with garbage blocked the entrances to individual floors. Not only
    the lobby and corridor walls, but the ceilings and carpets were covered with
    slogans, a jumble of coded signals that marked the attacks of raiding parties
    from floors above and below. Laing had to restrain himself from pencilling the
    number of his own floor among the numerals, some three feet high, emblazoned
    across the walls of the elevator car like the entries in a lunatic ledger.
    Almost everything possible had been vandalized -- lobby mirrors fractured,
    pay-phones torn out, sofa upholstery slashed. The degree of vandalism was
    deliberately excessive, almost as if it served a more important secondary
    role, disguising the calculated way in which the residents of the high-rise,
    by ripping out all the phone lines, were cutting themselves off from the
    outside world.


    For a few hours each day a system of informal truce routes opened like
    fracture lines throughout the building, but this period was becoming
    progressively shorter. Residents moved around the building in small groups,
    sharply on the look-out for any strangers. Each of them wore his floor-level
    on his face like a badge. During this brief armistice of four or five hours
    they could move about, contestants in a ritualized ladder-battle allowed
    between bouts to mount the rungs of their pre-ordained ranks. Laing and his
    fellow passengers waited as the car made its slow descent, frozen together
    like mannequins in a museum tableau -- "late twentieth-century high-rise
    dweller". When they reached the ground floor Laing walked cautiously through the
    entrance, past the shuttered manager's office and the sacks of unsorted mail.
    He had not been to the medical school for days, and as he stepped through the
    glass doors he was struck immediately by the cooler light and air, like the
    harsh atmosphere of an alien planet. A sense of strangeness, far more palpable
    than anything within the building, extended around the apartment block on all
    sides, reaching across the concrete plazas and causeways of the development
    project.
    Looking over his shoulder, as if maintaining a mental life-line to the
    building, Laing walked across the parking-lot. Hundreds of broken bottles and
    cans lay among the cars. A health engineer from the central office of the
    project had called the previous day but left within half an hour, satisfied
    that these signs of breakdown were no more than teething troubles in the
    building's waste-disposal system. As long as the residents made no formal
    complaint, no action would be taken. Laing was no longer surprised by the way
    in which the residents, who only a few weeks earlier had been united in their
    anger over the breakdown of the building's services, were now just as united
    in assuring any outsiders that all was well -- partly out of a displaced pride
    in the high-rise, but also out of a need to resolve the confrontation between
    them without interference, like rival gangs battling across a refuse tip who
    joined forces to expel any intruder.

    Laing reached the centre of the parking-lot, only two hundred yards from the
    neighbouring high-rise, a sealed rectilinear planet whose glassy face he could
    now see clearly. Almost all the new tenants had moved into their apartments,
    duplicating to the last curtain fabric and dish-washer those in his own block,
    but this building seemed remote and threatening.


    Looking up at the endless tiers of balconies, he felt uneasil like a visitor to a malevolent zoo, where terraces of vertically mounted cages contained creatures of random and ferocious cruelty. A few people leaned on their railings and watched Laing without expression, and he had a sudden image of the two thousand residents springing to their balconies and hurling down at him anything to hand, inundating Laing beneath a pyramid of wine bottles and ashtrays, deodorant aerosols and contraceptive wallets.

    Laing reached his car and leaned against the window pillar. He knew that he
    was testing himself against the excitements of the world outside, exposing
    himself to its hidden dangers. For all its present conflict, the high-rise
    represented safety and security. Feeling the warm cellulose of the window
    pillar against his shoulder, Laing remembered the stale air in his apartment,
    tepid with the smell of his own body. By comparison, the brilliant light
    reflected off the chromium trim of the hundreds of cars filled the air with
    knives.
    He turned away from his car, and walked along the parking lane that ran
    parallel to the apartment building. He was not ready yet to venture into the
    open air, face his colleagues at the medical school, catch up with the lost
    student supervisions. Perhaps he would stay at home that afternoon and prepare
    his notes for his next lecture.

    He reached the edge of the ornamental lake, a graceful oval two hundred yards
    in length, and stepped down on to the concrete floor. Following his shadow, he
    walked along the gently sloping lake-bed. Within a few minutes he was standing
    in the centre of the empty lake. The damp concrete, like the surface of an
    enormous mould, curved away on all sides, smooth and bland, but in some way as
    menacing as the contours of some deep reductive psychosis. The absence of any
    kind of rigid rectilinear structure summed up for Laing all the hazards of the
    world beyond the high-rise. ....

    Unable to stay there any longer, he turned and strode swiftly towards the
    shore, climbed the bank and ran towards the apartment building between the
    dusty cars.
    Within ten minutes he had returned to his apartment. After bolting the door,
    he climbed over his barricade and wandered around the half-empty rooms. As he
    inhaled the stale air he was refreshed by his own odour, almost recognizing
    parts of his body -- his feet and genitalia, the medley of smells that issued
    from his mouth. He stripped off his clothes in the bedroom, throwing his suit
    and tie into the bottom of the closet and putting on again his grimy
    sports-shirt and trousers. He knew now that he would never again try to leave
    the high-rise. He was thinking about Alice, and how he could bring her to his apartment. In some way these powerful odours were beacons that would draw her to him.
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    11 / Punitive Expeditions

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Fri May 18, 2012 9:08 pm

    This monster region of sunspots on the sun’s surface – AR 1476, as long as 10 planet Earths
    University of Polarity Earth’ specifically designed for the evolution and educational process of the human soul.

    This is what tony (former yellow then blue)

    after susan's color shift calculator (now rainbow) has to say about the issue
    :


    IT has you taking those first 12
    spinning white / spinning black
    into - the 13th bridge
    integrate the energy - which is in its lower six
    colour , freq , light, sound, tone and vibration
    vib is 0-1000
    colour - and, light is handled in the spin
    freq / sound / and, tone - is to do with the 111 notes of separation (+/) for 13 spots
    and, some of it; is below your hearing;
    and; above your hearing in phys.
    cause it spans thru - all of them
    and, the higher six; which i need to mine my writing to find them - at least the higher six of energy - what to call them



    That in fact not all can withstand even another traverse around the cosmos. Aurignacian Lunar Calendar c.32,000 BCE

    This is just recapitulated, as tony mentioned that the 'whereabouts of any kin are at disposal' about a thousand times the last 2 years.;.
    -the very nature of it is feminine they say… and wee can feel it but cannot name it, because its on purpose distorted .

    (For better digestibility', i will cut it up and mix it with a little sheStory..
    the G9 on
    ....
    this T00 soon to bloom…moon on kin 249



    Xiuhtecutli, Xiuhtecuhtli tletl/tet G1, God of Fire, Year or Grass Lord of the Year, Fire

    The nine lords of the underworld, in Maya religion, were known as the Bolon ti ku (“Nine of them,” or “Nine in Holiness”). We do not know the Maya names of these gods, but the glyphs corresponding to these deities are well-known, and were worked out by Thompson in the late 20’s (Thompson, 1929). In the absence of proper names, these lords of the underworld were assigned G designations. the ‘gods’ in a cosmogonic conclave, gathered in the darkness of night (the Maya Underworld), to re-create the world on the last completion of the 13.0.0.0.0 cycle on 4 Ahaw 8 Cumku 9 (11 August 3114 B.C.E.).
    It is a reasonable hypothesis to propose that the same cosmogonic entities, presided over by the enigmatic Old God L, would be back for the completion of the next cycle on 13.0.0.0.0, 4 Ahaw 3 Kankin (21 December 2012 C.E.).
    http://www.pauahtun.org/Calendar/gglyph.html bolontiku and G9 is almost certainly a pauahtun.

    Itztli, Tecpatl G2, Hoy Abac: Spreader of Ink God of Flint
    Flint

    Humanity in Forgetfulness about itself'.

    This story is 'The Story of Your Life' and is also the 'Story of God' and the 'Neverending Story of God's Family' as the 'Story of the StarHumanity', which has remembered itself from a
    'Story of hu NAB ku
    -21-metaphysics for breakfast

    The Process of this collection of information then becomes a redefined evolving unity of totality; then enabled due to the experience of the assembling, which becomes 'A Function of Memory', to reproduce the original totality of the unity without spacetime within the said spacetime.
    Not in spacetime incarnation or embodiment; all of YOU are all of this totality as the 'Personality of God'.
    In spacetime incarnation YOU become Part of this Total Personality, but remain connected (or quantum entangled) with all other 'partial personalities', however as Total Individuations.
    Subsequently, all of YOU are nought, but the 'Real God' individuated in particularised apparently separated Data-Processors; experiencing the 'assembling' of the original information in a Recall or negentropy of the dissipation of the data (in a so called Quantum Big Bang and the creation of the separable spacetime of self relative experience)
    .
    Hanab Ch’ahon: Maize Flower G3 Lord of the Youths, or Youthful Lord
    Flower

    So YOU know, that within the embodiment; YOU must, at all cost, preserve and protect your Individuality, because this individuation is the reason YOU have come into embodiment in the first instance.
    But YOU also know the collective reason for the importance of your individuality.
    Your individuation out of the absolute totality as your Godhood is the Creativity of God as your own absolute totality delegated from the Oneness of Unity into the Separatedness of Unity within itself.

    YOU know, that YOU are the Individual Creator experiencing the separation for the purpose to gather your previous information and data which YOU often presume YOU have lost or forgotten or displaced.
    And so in your 'partial' remembrances of 'why' YOU are here, YOU allow information-collecting systems to evolve and control the dissemination and distribution of that data.
    Because YOU 'deny' your own 'godhood' as the originator of the 'masterplan' in various degrees of the 'self-remembrance' or the 'self-enlightenment'; many divers 'information control systems evolve in the chronological discourse of a 'master timeline', which YOU have set into action, but chosen not to remember, again in divers degrees.

    "

    C. suggests that the name of the God L was "May" or "Ch’ul May: 'Holy Tobacco,'" or “Holy Medicine.” His readings are based in epigraphy. Here's where it gets interesting. He wrote that God L is essentially the “First Shaman” or “First Priest,” the primary Maya God of Medicine and Curing. ... Old God L is the senior cosmogonic god, at least by the Late Classic Period, who presides over the gathering of supernaturals for the almost endless cyclical renewals or re-creations of the Maya cosmos in the great 13 Baktun cycle, the cycle that will complete and continue on, once again, around December 21st, 2012 C.E.

    The SUPERNATurAL unfoldment -with a touch of venus- attends the remaining Equinoxes, Solstices & Eclipses that lie ahead in the countdown, ‘Frequencial Gateways’ . The auspicious vectors are not constrained by linear time nor by the dimensional access limitations. The 12th dimension is enabled thru the Cosmic Trigger Crystalline awakening of that 12th Wave that will manifest on May 20, 2012 and reach its apexial completion on the OM Wave of the June Solstice of 2012. bolon ch'ul

    Some of YOU, so have chosen to sequester information about your common 'masterplan' from yourselves
    .
    Some of YOU have accepted the 'inner divinity' more so then others and this gradient of 'self-acceptance' invariably leads to a 'conflict' between the 'divine' Individuation and the 'environmentally evolving' Personality.
    This differentiation is often labelled as the 'human ego' of the personality evolving into a 'divine individuation' as a '(w)hol(e)y egocentricity'.

    But all of YOU are already 'divine' individuations by definition and the human egocentricity is simply a misunderstood 'self-protection' for that divine individuality.

    The 'salvation' and the 'redemption' of your 'human egos' so lies in the fact of the previously 'agreed to' master timeline.

    The few of YOU, which have 'hidden' the commonly sought after 'information'; will be confronted with 'additional' and 'new' data, which shall encompass the sequestered information
    .

    Feel the need and petition this crystalline up-shift reformation in order to transcend the duality dimensional paradigm that would otherwise entomb many more in the cyclic duplicity of descending polarity juxtaposition.

    as the apocalypse is a double mirrored exegese unfolding to Christ Michaels plans to correct what was hidden (and never there according to many) it has to be reminded, that it's 'only your belief systems that decay the body. It is only your belief systems that keep you from moving forward in leaps and bounds. It is your canyon that seems endless in a sky that seems cloistered. Open the gate and set free all that has once served you so that it can learn to fly, to swim, to tunnel deep into the earth and allow your soul to re-define you in a way that serves the soul’s illumination and soul path.
    '
    may 18.2012
    WHITE ELECTRIC DOG Kin: 250
    I Activate in order to Love
    I Bond Loyalty
    I seal the process of heart
    With the Electric tone of Service
    I am guided by the power of Timelessnes
    s
    …my (13'B's) dog just flew thru the front door; and; chased time&its track in the technosphere down the street… moon eats sun

    “The Great Pleiadian Eclipse Alignment” . Ring of Fire , Full Solar Eclipse On May 20, 2012, for the first time in 26000 years, our Sun and Moon ( New Moon) will be precisely conjunct with the stunning Central Star of the Pleiades, in the constellation Taurus.… You cannot miss this glorious event! Gather where you can, meditate and open the heart to receive this transitional energy…an energy bearing sacred codes !

    our course atm is akin to a training course. For each advancing energy will require physical, emotional and mental adjustment to the higher frequencies downloaded,
    one designed to increase humankinds capacity to operate in higher resonant energy. The intensives will ebb & flow, in a continual momentous pattern, gaining in inertia through the 12-12-12, the 12th Wave of the Ascension. It is indeed an auspicious time
    .

    So it will be superfluous to 'hide' any information; as all data will become apparent for all data-processors to process as divine individuations.

    The many of YOU, which are seeking for the information for the purpose to 'do what YOU are here to do', namely to process and to collect the dispersed information; will then be enabled to 'do so' and to Send this individually processed 'lost data' back to 'God' as the totality of yourselves not in spacetime individuation.

    As this will 'fulfil' your individual purpose for 'being here' in the first place; some of YOU will finally allow yourselves to Remember the 'masterplan' and the construction of your own story
    .



    referring to the GALACTIC Brain or Planetary Manitou

    TWIN SOUL €NTIT¥-Control speaks to us as in plasmatic ‘involutions’, manifesting in alternating lateral and vertical hyperplasmic flows.Those are in charge, provide subvolitional exalted streaming body sensations, and -tics -mirroring the squared cryptic inner monologues of the monkey mind, and as geometrical akashic evolution's, karmic colored emotional encodings -as Aboriginal Continuity

    ––Aboriginal Continuity revolves wrapped in: selfsame strangely-torn outpourings. generating then while transmuting dialectic and other finite concepts, consciousness bundles of lesser conten.t


    Cosmic Awareness as initiant (the dreamer), solvent and catalysator and 'end product' simultaneously reveals specks of it's zuvuya qualities.
    the planetary mother father 5. dimensional TwinSoul-Circuit's avataric Interaction is surely not a one-way communication habit - or UniSolo encouragement and multifractured response.
    noOsperic Interplay of TwinSoul prior to shift is a fully holonomic enter/prize sans matricide social/gender/race -rank constrictions or similar issues that certainly click in thrifty, dependent on yourgrade of 3d processings (challenges of daily life).

    Left on their own, when you think 'spirituality' is most important, the way i spent the last 20 years of 3d relations be unimport, seem to throw analphs into the round co-/ unconsciously that jam the flow of communication. Edges are missed, where belief systems (would) clash (but go underground)-

    So personal HIStories encounter each other unquestioned, not only a source of unending misunderstandings but also easiest to derail by unconscious agendas.

    I DO NOT SAY THIS IS CONSCIOUSLY WILLED FOR
    i only say there is no exception here - NONE and i am speaking of the local chat here.


    Crucial – if psibankaccrediting is wished for , dear kin, and the holonomic perceiver willed to passOver from his/her adorning accessory-niche-status to a more lively one, is, that appointments are made and the attending matching measures are met.
    and not swept away thru meaninglessnesses. This needs a sincere and sensible approach, based on the
    person's truth accompagn-yin a minimum of 'goodwill' - or maximum on recall….bing and yang is tone 12 cooperation.



    the basic concept is very very simple. Simply perceive what you are if you are not; but you have great difficulties doing this.. the deeper cosmogony, the origin of whatever you perceive as being part of YOUR world.

    It becomes your opinion see; ..."..your own subjective abstract interpretation..." and guess what; 'opinions' are the cause for the mess this planetary civilisation finds itself in in the 'divide and conquer' motto of the 'insiders of the deeper understandings'.

    You, like many look for 'Truth' and rendering anyone's 'truth' as a 'Truth of Individuated Opinion' enhances and supports the motto of the Individuation as the Supreme Being of the opinionated self, not requiring encompassment by a 'deeper more impersonal truth'.

    But just as the Law of Gravity represents a 'truth' of physical law; so does the originator of those 'Laws of Truth' represent an Unopinionated truth as 'The Truth'.

    It is superfluous and irrelevant if you or anyone denies the existence of this truth, rendering it as one opinion amongst the many opinions and viewpoints.



    Coincidence travels on spectrally catalyzed interdimensional wavelines and pops-up symbolic ally” in 3d. The use of its inherent information depends on the grade of alienation of the 'user' from
    a) 3d) b)~c) d4b(c a~(b(d3 (a
    where c= energy
    d= dimension and b= ' bc/ad ' 12-60–Time overlap structured for further exploitation of c-material



    ~ stands for b / mirrored for d… lol



    it's kinda fool's game when one waits for the other who waits for the other who waits for the other who waits…..
    and then you try to end this gummy-twist farce, you immediately start messing up everything completely and wish for nothing more than to retreat to the former state..– how many Skywalkers does it take to screw in a lightbulb,?, resembles a bit 'first-contact scenario'
    …and the aliens are as real as the phantom pain in your missing right leg as a war invalid.
    and 3d is 4d is 3d Subscribe to that which houses all knowledge without the limits of time.the primordial Mam or Year-Bearer corresponding astronomically to the December solstice sun and mythologically to One Hunahpu


    steps within steps muluk…(walk thru the D…) http://www.dimensions-math.org/Dim_regarder_E.htm


    The Art of Projecting a Timeship: Meditation on the Matrix power of Universal Pacification has to be postponed, first mediation, here at least… not there: http://2013synchronotron.wordpress.com/
    noookinShip can be exercised and filled up with potentials and coincidences -but…remember, depends on what shows up…. no kin …. no coincidence…lol,


    http://www.dimensions-math.org/Dim_E.htm
    Awakening our bio-solar telepathic capacity

    sth else...or maybe the same... This Awareness reminds all that in 1996 there was an event that occurred not on the Planet Earth itself, but on the distant planet of Jupiter, and it was seen that there was an event where meteors crashed into the planet — at least this is what was said in the media. These were not meteors at all but an invasion fleet of the Reptilian Forces that were coming to the planet to take over. They were deliberately crashed into the planet and the invasion force destroyed before it arrived on the planet.
    Had this event occurred at that time, the timeline of humanity would have been much different than it is now, in that many would have experienced this invasion force. And yet it was simply a timeline that many who are in existence now never experienced. There is, of course, another timeline of experience where this did occur, that the alien Reptilian Forces did land and another scenario was experienced by those who had that as their reality. The concept of multiplicity is an extremely difficult one in some ways, for it does express that everything that could have happened has happened and it is more the focusing of one's consciousness on a line of events that actually will create for the individual, the observer, the reality that they are experiencing.
    A secret battle did take place in 1996 and this is a truth that many did not experience. What this Awareness is saying is that because it was a secret battle, many did not experience this. Their timeline reality did not reflect this battle, either as a secret battle or a more obvious invasion by the Reptilians. Those who are in power, who had the hope that their invasion forces would come at a time appropriate for them to take complete and total power, have either experienced this as their timeline reality, or they are participating in another timeline.

    Where the Soul Exists
    manik
    Again, this becomes a very complex matter. But this Awareness simply wishes all to always remember that they, as Creator Beings, can energize the realities they wish to experience. When it seems that they are not creating those realities, then be aware that there are also purposes that are of the soul nature and that there were agreements before one came into reality, into a physical body that they were choosing to experience in this lifetime. The soul exists on the 5th plane and beyond that which is time. It exists in a multidimensional nature where many, many, indeed all options are experienced, all realities tasted and experienced. All this Awareness wishes to say is that It understands It has again opened the proverbial can of worms.


    WHAT ARE TIMELINES

    The way individuals perceive their own timelines and group timelines is the result of their own individual perception of events and circumstances, the individuals involved in their own lives, as well as their peculiar outlooks on life, their beliefs, attitudes and opinions. All of this mixes together to individualize each timeline. No two individuals could ever have the exact same timeline,

    There is the famous example of the elephant and the three blind men that also exemplifies what this Awareness is trying to say. There were three blind men in India that were shown an elephant. One was given the small tail at the back and that was all it could feel of this huge creature. The other was shown the side and it felt the wall of the elephant, the abdomen and the side of the elephant and the third was given the trunk of the elephant. When the three were brought together they all described a hugely different perspective of the creature that they were allowed to touch. The first man feeling it almost like a snake, the second like a moving wall and the third the unique, tactile impression of the trunk being that of an animal that had great sensitivity in its tubular body.

    it is very similar, in that each individual experiences their lives in their unique and individual way, thinking that it is the only true reality, for it is the reality they are experiencing. They have trouble identifying with the realities another might be experiencing

    In timelines it must be understood that it is a unique individual experiencing of the physical realm by that spirit being housed in a physical body that is maneuvering his or her way through the third dimensional physical experience. In their experiences, that which they are taught, that which they acquire in their own thinking process as they formulate their lives, their beliefs, their expectations, that which is given to them by others, that which comes even from past life events and circumstances that have influence in a person's life — all shape that which is the timeline of the individual.

    Due to the seamless nature of a life experience in a timeline, there may not even be noticed a shift in the timeline, for it simply flows into the next set of experiences, even if the next set of experiences is off at a tangent to that which might have been the original timeline.

    timelines are created by the individual in the assumptions the individual holds.

    There is no such thing as a concrete timeline; there is only the perception of that which is considered to be a concrete timeline. This is by agreement of those participating in the event. This is what allows them by agreement to have cohesive experiences together with one another, because there is a form of internalized agreement.
    This is created at deep intuitive or psychic levels,
    where there is no discussion on the matter in any conscious way or form.

    Cosmic Awareness: The mind must release its hold on this matter. This individual truly is trying to understand this concept from the positioning of the mind, from the mental, and it is not necessarily a matter that can be fully intellectually understood without allowing an emotional component as well as a spiritual component into the understanding of this matter. If this individual understands, first and foremost, there is no differentiation between the Me that is successful and the Me that is unsuccessful, and that both have relevancy, both are accepted back into the soul as bringing back equally valid streams of information and understanding and awareness gained through the lifetime, then perhaps he will not feel such deep anguish at the mental concept that one part might make it but several may not. In truth, the soul sees all of those multidimensional beings having a life experience along that one band of life experience as relevant and worthy.



    11 / Punitive Expeditions

    By four o'clock that afternoon the last of the residents had returned to the
    high-rise.

    From his balcony Laing watched their cars appear on the approach roads and
    turn into their spaces in the parking-lot. Briefcases in hand, the drivers
    made their way to the entrance lobbies. Laing was relieved that all
    conversation ended when they neared the building. This civilized behaviour in
    some way unsettled him.
    Laing had rested during the afternoon, deciding to calm himself and gather his
    strength for the night to come. At intervals he climbed over the barricade and
    peered into the corridor, hoping to catch sight of Steele. Laing's concern for
    his sister, only three floors below with her twilight husband, made him
    increasingly restless. He needed an outbreak of violence to provide a pretext
    to rescue her. If the plan to divide the building succeeded, he would be
    unlikely to see her again.
    Laing paced around the apartment, testing the primitive defensive
    preparations. Those residents like himself on the upper floors were more
    vulnerable than they assumed, and might easily find themselves at the mercy of
    those on the lower levels. Wilder and his henchmen could easily block the
    exits, destroy the electrical and water-supply inputs, and set fire to the
    upper floors. Laing imagined the first flames climbing through the elevator
    shafts and staircases, floors collapsing as the terrified residents were
    driven to find refuge on the roof.
    Unsettled by this lurid vision, Laing disconnected his stereo-speakers and
    added them to the barricade of furniture and kitchen appliances. Records and
    cassettes lay about underfoot, but he kicked them out of his way. At the base
    of his bedroom wardrobe he prised away the floorboards.

    In this suitcase-sized cavity he hid away his cheque book and insurance
    policies, tax returns and share certificates. Lastly, he forced in his medical
    case with vials of morphine, antibiotics and cardiac stimulants. When he
    nailed the floorboards back into place he felt that he was sealing away for
    ever the last residues of his previous life, and preparing himself without
    reservation for the new one to come.

    On the surface, the apartment building remained quiet, but much to Laing's
    relief the first incidents broke out by the early evening. He waited in the
    lobby through the late afternoon, standing about with a group of his fellow
    residents. Perhaps, insanely, _nothing_ was going to happen? Then a
    foreign-affairs analyst arrived with the news that there had been a fierce
    scuffle over an elevator ten floors below. Adrian Talbot, the likeable
    psychiatrist on the 27th floor, had been drenched in urine as he climbed the
    stairs to his apartment. There was even a rumour that a 40th-floor apartment
    had been vandalized. Such an act of provocation guaranteed them all a hot night.

    This was followed by a spate of reports that many residents had returned home
    to find their apartments ransacked, furniture and kitchen equipment damaged,
    electrical fittings torn out.
    Oddly enough, no food supplies had been touched, as if these acts of vandalism
    were deliberately random and meaningless. Had the damage been inflicted by the
    owners themselves, without realizing what they were doing, in an attempt to
    bring about an increase in violence ?
    These incidents continued as the evening settled over the apartment building.
    From his balcony Laing could see torch-beams flicking to and fro in the
    windows of the eight blacked-out floors below, as if signalling the
    preparations of a brutal blood-rite. Laing sat in the darkness on the
    living-room carpet, his back against the reassuring bulk of the barricade. He
    was reluctant to switch on the lights, for fear -- absurdly, as he knew --
    that an assailant might attack him from the air outside his balcony. Drinking
    steadily from a hip-flask of whisky, he watched the early evening television
    programmes. He turned down the sound, not out of boredom with these
    documentaries and situation comedies, but because they were meaningless. Even
    the commercials, with their concern for the realities of everyday life, were
    transmissions from another planet.
    Squatting among the plastic garbage-sacks, his furniture piled up behind him,
    Laing studied these lavish reconstructions of housewives cleaning their
    immaculate kitchens, deodorants spraying well-
    groomed armpits. Together they formed the elements of a mysterious domestic
    universe.
    Calm and unfrightened, Laing listened to the strident voices in the corridor.
    Thinking about his sister, he welcomed these signs of the violence to come.
    Alice, always fastidious, would probably be repelled by the derelict state of
    the apartment, but it would do her good to find something to criticize. The
    sweat on Laing's body, like the plaque that coated his teeth, surrounded him
    in an envelope of dirt and body odour, but the stench gave him confidence, the
    feeling that he had dominated the terrain with the products of his own body.
    Even the prospect that the lavatory would soon be permanently blocked,
    something that had once filled him with polite dread, was now almost inviting.
    This decline in standards of hygiene Laing shared with his neighbours. Emitted
    from their bodies was a strong scent, the unique signature of the high-rise.
    The absence of this odour was what most unsettled him about the world outside
    the apartment block, though its nearest approximation was to be found in the
    dissecting-room at the anatomy school. A few days earlier
    Laing had caught himself hanging about his secretary's desk, trying to get
    close enough to her to detect this reassuring smell. The startled girl had
    looked up to find Laing hovering over her like a beachcomber in rut.
    Three floors above, a falling bottle burst across a balcony. The glass
    fragments spat away like tracers through the darkness. A record-player by an
    open window was turned up to full volume.
    Huge fragments of amplified music boomed into the night.



    Laing climbed around his barricade and unlocked the door of his apartment. In
    the elevator lobby a group of his neighbours were manhandling a steel
    fire-door across the entrance to the stairway. Five floors below, a raid was
    in progress. Laing and his fellow clansmen crowded against the fire-door,
    peering into the darkened stairwell. They could hear the elevator gear
    reverberating as the car moved up and down, ferrying more attackers to the
    fray.

    Rising from the20th floor, as if from an execution pit, came a woman's scream.
    Waiting for Steele to appear and help them, Laing was about to go in search of
    him. But the lobby and corridors were filled with running people, colliding
    into each other in the dark as they fought their way back to their apartments
    on the floors above the 25th. The raiders had been hurled back. Torch-beams
    swerved across the walls in a lunatic semaphore. Laing slipped in a pool of
    grease and fell among the swerving shadows. Behind him, an excited woman
    stepped on his hand, her heel cutting his wrist.
    For the next two hours a series of running battles took place in the corridors
    and staircases, moving up and down the floors as the barricades were
    reassembled and torn down again.
    At midnight, as he crouched in the elevator lobby behind the overturned
    fire-door, debating whether to risk making a run for Alice's apartment, Laing
    saw Richard Wilder standing among the scattered steel chairs. In one hand he
    still held his cine-camera. Like a large animal pausing for breath, he
    followed the huge projections of himself cast upon the walls and ceiling, as
    if about to leap on to the backs of his own shadows and ride them like a
    troupe of beasts up the flues of the building.
    The confrontation subsided, moving away like a storm towards the lower floors.
    Laing and his neighbours assembled in Adrian Talbot's apartment. Here they sat
    on the living-room floor among the broken tables and the easy chairs with
    their slashed cushions. The torches at their feet formed a circle of light, shining on
    the bottles of whisky and vodka they shared together.

    Arm in a sling, the psychiatrist moved around his vandalized apartment, trying
    to hang the shattered picture-frames over the slogans aerosolled across his
    walls in the supermarket paint-section's most fashionable colours. Talbot
    seemed more numbed by the personal hostility in these anti-homosexual
    obscenities than by the wholesale destruction of his apartment, but in
    spite of himself Laing found them stimulating. The lurid caricatures
    on the walls glimmered in the torch-light like the priapic figures drawn by cave-dwellers.
    "At least they've left you alone," Talbot said, crouching beside Laing. "I've
    obviously been picked out as a scapegoat. This building must have been a
    powerhouse of resentments --everyone's working off the most extraordinary backlog of infantile
    aggressions."
    "They'll spend themselves."
    "Perhaps. I had a bucket of urine thrown over me this afternoon. Much more of
    that and I may take up a cudgel myself. It's a mistake to imagine that we're all moving towards a state of happy primitivism. The model here seems to be less the
    noble savage than our un-innocent post-Freudian selves, outraged by all that over-indulgent toilet-training, dedicated breast-feeding and parental affection -- obviously a more dangerous mix than anything our Victorian forebears had to cope with.
    Our neighbours had happy childhoods to a man and still feel angry. Perhaps they resent neverhaving had a chance to become perverse . . ."

    As they nursed their bruises and passed around the bottles, drinking steadily
    to build up their courage, Laing listened to the talk of counter-attack and
    revenge. There was still no sign of Steele. For some reason Laing felt that he
    should have been there, a future leader more important to them than Crosland.
    In spite of his injuries, Laing felt exhilarated and confident, eager to
    return to the fray. The darkness was reassuring, providing its own security,
    the natural medium of their life in the apartment building. He felt proud of
    having learned how to move around the pitch-black corridors, never more than
    three steps at a time, how to pause and test the darkness, and even the right
    way of crossing his own apartment, always keeping as close to the floor as
    possible. He almost resented the daylight which the following morning would
    bring.

    The true light of the high-rise was the metallic flash of the polaroid camera,
    that intermittent radiation which recorded a moment of hoped-for violence for
    some later voyeuristic pleasure. What depraved species of electric flora would
    spring to life from the garbage-strewn carpets of the corridors in response to
    this new source of light? The floors were littered with the blackened negative
    strips, flakes falling from this internal sun.

    Muddled by alcohol and excitement, Laing clambered to his feet with his
    neighbours as they set off like a crowd of drunken students, brawling with
    each other to keep up their courage. By the time they had descended three
    floors in the darkness Laing had lost his bearings. They had entered an
    enclave of abandoned apartments on the 22nd floor. They wandered around the
    deserted rooms, kicking in the faces of the television sets, breaking up the
    kitchen crockery.
    Trying to clear his head before going to rescue his sister, Laing vomited over
    a balcony rail. The threads of luminous phlegm fell away across the face of
    the building. Leaning there in the darkness, he listened to his neighbours
    moving along the corridor. When they had gone he would be able to look for
    Alice.
    Behind him the electric lights came on. Startled, Laing flinched against the
    parapet, expecting an intruder to attack him. After a brief interval, the
    lights began to flicker continuously like a fibrillating heart. Laing looked
    down at his grimy clothes and vomit-stained hands. The vandalized living-room
    glimmered around him, the floor strewn with debris as if he had woken on a
    battlefield.

    In the bedroom a broken mirror lay on the bed, the pieces flickering like the
    fragments of another world trying unsuccessfully to reconstitute itself.
    "Come in, Laing . . ." The familiar precise voice of the orthodontic surgeon
    called out to him. "There's something interesting here."
    Steele was circling the room with a sword-stick in one hand. Now and then he
    feinted at the floor in a teasing way, as if rehearsing a scene from a
    melodrama. He beckoned Laing forward into the stuttering light.
    Laing cautiously approached the door, glad to see Steele at last but well
    aware of how exposed he was to any passing whim of his. He assumed that Steele
    had trapped the apartment's owner, or a vagrant resident who had taken shelter
    here, but there was no one in the room. Then, following the blade of the
    sword-stick, he saw that Steele had cornered a small cat between the legs of
    the dressing-table. Steele lunged forward, twirling a brocade curtain he had
    wrenched from the window, and whirled the terrified creature into the
    bathroom.
    "Wait, doctor!" The surgeon's voice was infused with a strangely cold gaiety,
    like an erotic machine's. "Don't leave yet . . ."

    The lights continued to flicker with the harsh over-reality of an atrocity
    newsreel.
    Confused by his own response, Laing watched Steele manipulate the cat under
    the curtain. By some ugly logic the dentist's pleasure in tormenting the
    creature was doubled by the presence of a squeamish but fascinated witness.
    Laing stood in the bathroom doorway, hoping despite himself that the lights
    would not fail again. He waited as Steele calmly smothered the cat, destroying
    it under the curtain as if carrying out a complex resuscitation under a
    hospital blanket.
    Pulling himself away at last, Laing left without speaking. He moved carefully
    along the darkened corridor, as the lights flickered from the doorways of
    ransacked apartments, from overturned lamps lying on the floor and television
    screens brought back to a last intermittent life. A faint music played
    somewhere around him. An abandoned record turntable was spinning again.
    In an empty bedroom a cine-projector screened the last feet of a pornographic
    film on to the wall facing the bed.
    When he reached Alice's apartment Laing hesitated, uncertain how to explain
    his presence.
    But as his sister opened the door and beckoned him in he saw immediately that
    she had known he was coming. Two suitcases, already packed, stood in the
    living-room. Alice walked to the door of her bedroom for the last time. In the
    yellow, intermittent light Frobisher was slumped asleep on the bed, a
    half-empty case of whisky beside him.
    Alice took Laing's arm. "You're late," she said reprovingly. "I've been
    waiting for hours." As they left she made no attempt to look back at her
    husband. Laing remembered Alice and himself at home years earlier, and how
    once they had slipped out of the drawing-room in the same way as their mother
    lay unconscious on the floor after injuring herself during a drinking bout.
    The sounds of a minor clash echoed up the stairwell as they made their way to
    the safety of the darkness on the 25th floor. Fifteen floors, including
    Laing's own, were now permanently without light.
    Like a storm reluctant to end, recapitulating itself at intervals, the
    violence rumbled on throughout the night as Laing and his sister lay awake
    together on the mattress in his bedroom.
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    a harder definition of ascent -- fluxinGeeeeees

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Tue May 22, 2012 3:38 pm



    O’MITAKUYASIN

    What a question…! can only arise in neverland the silent witness of 'how far you can go' when in coop Erration (better say harassment of) the current paradigm.

    1111 x 1111 = 1234321

    The number 4 is prevalent everywhere as the backbone to the anatomy of numbers

    Four Elements: Water, Earth, Fire, Air
    Four Seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
    Four Directions: North, South, East, Wes
    t
    the four fold purpose of the UNSPEAKABLE




    McFate is a sadist. For there's a flaw in every DNA , to paraphrase Rimbaud.

    “In the sweet sorrow of our separation,
    Have faith in the things hoped for
    And belief in the things not seen.

    I will not forsake you!

    Though it be another time --- another place,
    Another story --- another face,
    I will know you . . .And when the glowing coal which I gave you from My Hearth
    Glows brighter still to snap the icy chains of cold Winter’s Past,
    And chases away the Shadows of Fear and Doubt by the Light of its Inheritance,


    Come to Me!

    I await your knock upon the Door of Now - - -
    In the springtime of a New Promise to play again in Summer’s sand . . .
    To embrace and kiss, to whisper dreams of things to come,

    To share and give, to care, to build . . . to live ---
    To recreate ourselves as One . . . again ---”

    And how will I know Thee?

    “I am the One who has named you by My Name.
    You are My Love, My Love!
    By My Name you will know Me ---

    Love”







    what do average (lol) people care about, when you ask 'em….:
    'WHY is cellphone and other EMF technology deliberately set at the range of our brain frequency when it could have been outside that?'
    'WHY is the banking system getting off scott free when everyone knows they engineered this economic mess?
    '

    most likely they'll be concerned about:

    1. the best restaurants in town.
    2. where their front row seat is at the local sporting events.
    3.which cinema shows the shillest pelicula... That's it. That's all they seem to know and all they are interested in.


    ♥ ♥ ♥ We seem to have a mechanism through which our mind operates, identifying, analyzing and concluding on a person's qualifications to be with us or not to be with us! ♥ ♥ ♥

    When your consciousness is directed outward, mind and world arise. When it is directed inward, it realizes its own Source and returns home into the Unmanifested.


    after last's high-rise's browse thru the G 9, lords of the underworld, we arrive at chapter 12 : Towards the Summit
    $
    and regress again to G8 CHIC agoe ILLionoIS, or better they moved it to : C-iA-amp *DAv¡∂*


    DON'T FEAR... act, matter of fact, in no fear is when the right act can be about

    YES 2012 will bring changes(already did), even possibly at the "matter" density, but doubt it will pass from hell to heaven
    Chicago and the G8 summit. G8 moved from Chicago to Camp David. Why? Pick one of their flimsy excuses. Who starts a conference on a Sunday? The Christian day of rest. Isn't everyone in church worshiping? Apparently not the world leaders. They're discussing who next to bomb. Though your brother's bound and gagged

    And they've chained him to a chair

    Won't you please come to Chicago

    Just to sing


    In a land that's known as freedom

    How can such a thing be fair

    Won't you please come to Chicago

    For the help we can bring

    The fallen goddess myth says that the earth was not formed in the same manner as the rest of the solar system. The other planets conglomerated from vast fields of inert atomic dust, but the earth grew organically from the original plume of core energy; that is, from Sophia’s alive, animating, self-awareness, a pure torrent of galactic luminosity (Organic Light). IT belongs equally to the cosmos, the earth, and the human body, integral to our corporeal and spiritual make-up. It has been universally equated with goddess divinities or shaktis. Raising intrinsic kundalini energies as time patterning in space reals is the aim of yogic practices that have persisted for thousands of years. Whatever the threat to humanity, real or imagined, coming from reptilians such as the scaly overlord of the Gnostic archons, the gift of the serpent power is clear. In all esoteric systems, eastern and western, the serpent is the agent and symbol of wisdom—Sophia

    This galaxy is a very special place . Especially for us earthlings! HunabKu 21 knows who we are and bows before us…
    "The very physics of your galaxy is postured by what you do here. The astronomers can look into the cosmos and they will discover different physics in different galaxies. Could it be that there's something going on in the other galaxies like this one? I'm not going to answer that."

    Your galaxy knows what's happening here on Earth. I'm not talking about life forms in your galaxy. I'm talking about the very physics of what you think lays there as the "rules." The Universe is cooperating with your shift - expected it - for this is why you came.



    You are changing the past by changing the future. You are rearranging the energy of your solar system and also something else. This is hard for you to conceive, dear ones, but we give it to you anyway: Very, very far away from you, things are changing. You don't believe it because they're too far away for you to consider, and in three dimensions, things that are far away are not part of your bubble of reality. However, they're in a quantum state with you.

    We can change the world -

    Re-arrange the world

    It's dying - if you believe in justice

    It's dying - and if you believe in freedom

    It's dying - let a man live it's own life

    It's dying - rules and regulations, who needs them

    Open up the door


    The entire galaxy revolves as one plate, in a very counter-intuitive way. The stars and the constellations do not orbit within the rules of Newtonian physics that you are used to seeing all around you in your own solar system. For the stars and clusters in your galaxy, distance from the center does not matter. All the stars rotate as one. This is because the galaxy is entangled with the middle of itself. In that state, there is no time or distance. The change of consciousness on this planet has changed the center of the galaxy. This is because what happens here, dear one, is "known" by the center.
    (kryon) more of nub


    Is not the Vatican with its 'hidden libraries' well aware about the Circles of Initiation and attempting to forestall the prophecied second coming of the 'feminine messiah'?

    the fatima oracle which sees things pooopes don't like : … their own + christianity's demise and then release…. of the fake symbology from the people's minds.

    Covert diabolical disorientation becomes highly visible. “Time Bombs” have been ticking for a long, long while. The foreshadowing of the “Crimson Dawn” given in the prophecy of Fatima is com.ing in. Karmic Law is the Scale of Justice over the Material Cosmos that dispenses good and evil in equal and just measure throughout


    Notice that even in the Bible God does not destroy Satan, but rather "binds" him. This is a symbol of mankind entering Nirvana; where the Karmic Laws no longer apply. Satan (Karmic retribution) is "loose" in the Material Cosmos, but not in Nirvana; where Karmic
    Law is "bound".
    . .

    and as Gaia will collect data to reconstruct the movement of millions of stars. "Thus, we will be able to test the presence of dark matter in a wide region of the galaxy,

    "Thus we blow that JC of NazAreth - myth planted into a place that wasn’t a city or town till 400AD…

    sure and thus we end the reign of red and dark popes and ancient brotherhood of the snake on earth.



    This cannot be accomplished unless the human marries both sexes on all levels physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. This last one is what the old male mind still has a hard time dealing with because some still think that woman’s emotions and feelings are a handicap instead of a gift. Most men still think they can rationalize what it would be like to be a complete Starhuman, but then if they are not courageous enough to even try to feel like one most likely they won’t make it. Being brings true experience and that’s how you link it into the physical.

    -and the girls ¿------------------- as long as they think they have made it by and 'with what you call your logic", you'll find the laughter of anubis echoe thru the corpse-hall/ hole you are living in, as a distant grumbling in the milky pale fog of what was called your 'thinking'.
    …while you may be going on eating those male attrappas who adore you… and are provided with bellypains deep down the stomach simultaneously.

    and…
    right next to you an alien and predator sculpture...

    NUTS! ALL OF THEM!


    The Red Robes of the Vatican confiscated the Circle of the Sisterhood as 12 equal matching partners for the Circle of the Brotherhood; and concentrated the 12 sisters in the one Queen Bee to serve the brotherhood in the symbol of Baphomet - the cosmic archetype for the androgyny.

    So to share the to many unpalatable truth; a woman (Rosemary('s baby)) was chosen and inducted to become the Kajira or Slave or woman incubator for the 12 RR-monks to become the 'sacred chalice' for the 'Monkey-Semen'.


    As this became the symbolic reformation of the apostolic circle to manifest God's Kingdom upon earth; the birth of 'Rosemary's Baby' as a viable 'antichrist' (Damien in the Omen) would fulfil prophecy and circumvent the second coming as portrayed in John's Book of the Apocalypse (Revelation) in the New Testament.

    The RR are well aware, that those 'prophecies' must and will be fulfilled should the ancient texts have any validity at all - and it is the Vatican is it not?




    • – • ~ ∞ …

    The 12D-Thuban data stream and its successor from the 9D-extragalactic information base of the Andromedean Council however know of the history of the 'Rosy Cross' and the 'secret associations' of the Illuminati/Solar Brotherhood/Levi/Sadducee and the Luminari/Lunar Brotherhood/Zadok/Pharisee; which is collectively known as the Brotherhood of the Snake and comprised of two patriarchial circles of 12 members each.

    There so exists a higher dimensional sceanario encompassing all so called ET agendas which is in process to reconfigure the symbols and the archetypes which are behind the physical manifestos of ALL hierarchical systems definitive for the human cultures and civilisations and beginning with the Cro Magnon emergence (human DNA manipulation) so 26,000 years ago.

    The agenda of the ET Elders so engages a path of emanation from the spiritual upper realms of the 'Crown' of the Keter to the 'Root' of the Malkuth. The Elders agenda so redefines the 'Brotherhood of the Snake' in two masculine circles and opposing each other in the centers of Christ versus Antichrist (say historically causative for the 1000 Year 'Reich' of Hitler's Luminari versus the Illuminati of the Levites).


    I may add a further comment on the number 91.
    13 (1 plus 3) is a higher form of 4. 4 is Amoun, the
    God of generation, and 13 is 1, the Phallic unity.
    Daleth is the Yoni. And 91 is AMN (Amen), a form
    of the Phallus made complete through the intervention of the Yoni.

    The Elders of Thuban and Andromeda so have formed an allegiance with the Elders of Sirius to allow galactic synchronisation between Perseus aka Milky Way as a righthanded spiralling bridegroom harbouring the Sirian starsystem with Andromeda as a lefthanded spiralling Bride.

    Two Circles have become archetyped from the Kether which became transferred from Thuban to Andromeda following the closure of the warptime window (stargate wormhole) following the Chilean earthquake on February 27th, 2010 and following the 40-day Thuban data stream beginning January 18th, 2010, 3 days following the Haiti earthquake.

    Those two earthquakes sealed prophecy in a new timeline, initialising the Andromedean data stream from March 28th, 2010 and precisely 3 weeks or 21 days following the initiation of the 'Daniel-Resistance' {Daniel.10.2,13} archetype and the eviction of Thuban from Avalon on March 7th, 2010.

    Everything your scientists have seen in physics happens in pairs. At the moment, there are four laws of physics in your three-dimensional paradigm. They represent two pairs of energy types. Eventually, there will be six. At the center of your galaxy is what you call a black hole, but it is not a single thing. It is a duality. There is no such thing as "singularity". You might say it's one energy with two parts - a weak and a strong quantum force. And the strangest thing is it knows who you are. It is the creator engine. It's different in other galaxies than this one. It's unique.


    Now the Dragons from 12D (coming as the ancestral Paa Tal of Alex Collier in their Thuban starships from the Black Holes through the 12D=9D 3D stargates) are familial with the Maya as 9D 'Time Lords' or 'Timekeepers of the Ennead' and through the Maya, we tried to share this 'uniqueness' of the Milky Way Galaxy aka Perseus in describing the Kuxan Suum as the 'Street' or 'cosmic way home' to the center of the Cosmic Father White Hole also known as Hunab Ku, the Galactic Butterfly.
    And it is an Old Humanity, which is destined to metamorphose as environment destroying and verocious and hungry Caterpillars into environment preserving, pollinating and so nourishing Butterflies of a New Humanity.
    So as this 2012 scenario is a Family Issue, the presence of the Dragons upon Gaia in these times might become better understood in these times of planetary, stellar, galactic and cosmic metamorphosis and transformation.




    Elixir of life, philosopher's gettin' stone ~e∂, transmuting our carbon ~es
    and what tony b says about…

    A good reanalysis of the 'ancestral chemistry', called 'Alchemy' in the 'light' of 'Modern Chemistry'.

    The reference to Carbon 7 being the 'secret of secrets' is however not warranted, as Carbon 7 cannot manifest as an isotope of Carbon, being a hypothetical form of a Carbon nucleus, consisting of 6 protons and 7 neutrons.
    The time taken for the lightpath to transverse the size of a proton is 3 fermi/lightspeed~10-23 seconds as a physical boundary for matter-light interaction.

    The lowest possible Carbon isotope so becomes Carbon 8 decaying under the strong nuclear interaction mode in about 10-21 seconds.

    The hypothesized decay of Carbon 7 so is rendered outside the alpha electromagnetic finestructure for light-matter interaction and is so part of the wavematter hyperphysics of de Broglie phase space.
    It can be said however, that the described implications of a selftransformation of Carbon from its stable Carbon 12 (and using Carbon 13 isotopical eigenstates as transduction medium) can be described by the 'numerical' alchemy of the atomic structures based on the basic and fundamental consciousness quantum of the cosmology in the Hydrogen atom and as a 'step-up' quantisation from the hyperphysics of the neutron nucleonic selfstates of the cosmogenesis.


    practice and study 'Being in hell isn’t fun, why should we have thought that getting out would be a joy ?'

    to befriend anger, recognize it for what it truly is: intrinsically arising out of a field of openness. These then allow for transmute vibrational excitations into not neglectable Wisdoms hads.

    It is HUMAN to lose our zen and just sit with the sad, sad truth of it. And, indeed, to allow ourselves to get angry at it all.

    Every single person on the planet has a story. We are truly f**** zombies if we DON’T lose it from time to time.. I think it truly is how we know we are human. AND have …
    Freewill, a powerful gift that we have been given here, many choose to apply it every moment of their lives. (That's, btw what zen is about) Those choices that we make determine the course, the level of complexity, the length, and the degree of terror which will be the individual “ride” for each of us. Many do not wish to look into the abyss of themselves, to stand on the edge and take that step into the well of their souls. It is easier to take the “ride” seat belted and strapped in for the “kiddie” rollercoaster than the “learn to love yourself” no seat belt, hair-raising, gut-wrenching emotionally jarring process that true maturity entails..

    .Don’t judge people before you truly know them. The truth might surprise you.
    .

    Intentionally creating something that is desired and intentionally changing an unwanted experience are both accomplished by shifting one’s own vibration to be in harmony with the vibration of that which one chooses to be, do, have, and/or experience.

    Vibration is a function of thought. When a person thinks about something, he/she vibrates in harmony with it. Experiences are not created "out there" in the external, physical world. They are created inside one’s own mind. Every human act starts with a thought The point of mental focus directs the universal creative energy to physically manifest that which has been the object of attention.

    It’s called “The Universal Law of Thought.” T
    The bats have left the bell tower
    The victims have been bled
    Red velvet lines the black box


    this sculpture celebrates our torturous confinement and extreme odds against our ever escaping. Again, you saw what happened to all the others (Mani, Jesus, etc.). Moloch/Demiurge etc and we can see that the soul is here trapped within a living hell existence not unlike that of Jesus himself as the stories go.he reward that can be expected for being true to one’s own divine nature when the world is at odds against it (and always will be, by the way). One will be “crucified” in the flesh.The divine human part might escape if it is, like Hawking radiation escaping from a black hole, shooting exactly 90.0000000000000000000000000000 to infinity degrees from the absoule epicenter of the black hole and existing no closer than the exact event horizon. Even then it must “shed” its quantum counterpart to escape and so must we shed every aspect of our bodily existences here. ?

    Choosing your way to deal with the not-so-nice coming events will give you an advantage, depending on where you get your news. In the controllers' game all news is created to deceive!

    We don’t take responsibility for what’s going on in front of our flipping noses not doing something about it.

    Observing the essence of a drowning child is bullshit. Respond.

    Inaction while observing these truths of our current condition is mental masturbation and an exercise in futility.


    Peace is not created by being against another's energy, words or decisions. Peace is having no concern about how the names and forms appear on the movie called your life. Are man's delusions the only way to consider this dimension's dream? No. Pure multifacetted uni-beaming crystalline-clothed 'thought' complexes , radiating tan gently would bee the cure tom endlove.

    1. Scientology Doctrine:
    “Seventy-five million years ago the emperor of the Galactic Federation, a despot named Xenu, solved overpopulation on his planet by freezing its inhabitants, shipping them to Earth in spacecraft resembling DC-8s, and dropped them into volcanoes in Hawaii and other places. He then detonated the volcanoes with atomic bombs and captured the suddenly-disembodied Thetans with an electronic device.”

    and, 2. The Book of Revelation, Chapter 20:
    1 And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand8 And shall go out to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog, and Magog, to gather them together to battle: the number of whom is as the sand of the sea.

    Are we about to see the flip side of who it was that died for us, that put us forever in His debt? http://sskotb.blogspot.ca/2008/07/resurrection-by-steve-savage.html

    "I recently spend an extended period of time in South America and noted that the iconography of the Catholic Church down there is extremely dark and foreboding. The skin tone of all the statues looks like they all carry the black plague. Lots of blood and very, very dark clothing. I am stunned that people would bow down to such images. Very, very sick. Of course, in order to subjugate the people of S. America and rob the indigenous of their riches in cahoots with the military, murdering millions in their path, they would have to instill in the locals the notion that their earthly life was/is supposed to be all about suffering and illness and what not.


    Can you accept that what is in your dream is not a dream of ours?

    Our reality is quite different than what we are making your attitudes about..
    fractal time. In past Human history, some of the difficult parts had actually created the termination of humanity. Some have resulted in a start-over of humanity. The energy that you are in now had a duality in its potential. You could have started over or you could start something the planet had never seen before. The young people will see it, for they have it in their Akashic inheritance. Very, very far away from you, things are changing. You don't believe it because they're too far away for you to consider, and in three dimensions, things that are far away are not part of your bubble of reality. However, they're in a quantum state with you.
    razzi on his way...this is when one skywalker goes… and the other comes…. by far not as unbearable to look at….lol

    ooops…OP's : It's just that they're caught in their "oath"s, their line of "honor" and the nature of their inflicted traumatas, upon the peoples of this planet, their cattle…, there is a long way for them, to do that.
    They may not be stupid at all, but I think there a coughing in there own system of control, that is almost impossible to divert from and make an individual determination to resolve this.


    DE†ermin@e- yourself iS Beee ♪•.¸¸♥¸¸.•♪ing Yourself ∫ .¡. : • Xeia's Club ♪♫•*♥¨*♪•.¸¸♥¸¸.•♪*¨*•♫




    “Christ rises from this crater torn open by a nuclear bomb; an atrocious explosion, a vortex of violence and energy.”

    It's not "matter" at all and it's not 3D.

    It's quantum energy. what you call a black hole, but it is not a single thing.

    It is a duality. There is no such thing as "singularity". You might say it's one energy with two parts - a weak and a strong quantum force. And the strangest thing is it knows who you are. It is the creator engine. It's different in other galaxies than this one. It's unique. The very physics of your galaxy is postured by what you do here. To stay on this planet and to change your cellular structure, to mine your Akash and start looking inside. In other words, do not take the past and project it to your future reality, for you are able to do things now that you were never able to do before. Gaia is cooperating. The Universe is cooperating and Lightworkers are moving into a manifestation paradigm.The first thing they'll notice is two things in the center of the galaxy, not one. The next thing will be the colors around the Human BeingThe Kundalini starts to move in response to humanity and it uncurls itself and the tail of the serpent will end up at the bottom of Chile. The center of the [Feathered] Serpent is in Peru. [Journey of the Feathered Serpent] *

    Not A Shift of Wisdom


    Contrary to what you may have been told, this has nothing to do with the shift of wisdom to the southern hemisphere. Listen. What is here? [in Peru] If you were to study the ancients here, you're going to find……
    http://educate-yourself.org/zsl/astralrealmcollapse14apr12.shtml

    We are more than words coming through a channel. Who we are is love and only love, given to your dream as multiple facets of One consciousness. It's now every day of the year "valentines day" does this mean that we cannot create and make love all year round? Are orgasms more extreme on valentines day?
    I mean really, its all B.S.! To me, holidays are nowadays more of a way to make money off of the easily seduced weak minded individuals who desperately fall for the insidiously cleverness of their tricks/

    reconnect with the Cosmic Maya our true star family and we never feel lonely again.

    Going into all new territory, what people have been preparing for through inner work. The challenge is putting all knowledge to the test. Just act accordingly. Time to make intent known. Where do you the individual want to go? Up so / Good so! clearing of all this superfluous stuff that drains our natural state of being in love with each other. ALL OF US.


    hideen eclipse i europe… 3:31 am CEST May 21st (Paris).

    “When you are in tune with the unknown, the known is peaceful.

    ”feel the forces around you. feel the space beetween you, me, the tree, the rock and hear its emanations of plasmatic interD whispering from its original inhabitants…"

    Similarly… Allow the mind mass being elastic, stretched into new energetic patterns, structuring "thinking stratum" contending your " boldest, wildest, sweetest dream of what you can imagine to be a satisfying ambiance for you! “Life is decision-making from moment to moment. At window 10.2,…….

    12 / Towards the Summit

    Soon after two o'clock in the afternoon four days later, Richard Wilder
    returned from his television station and drove into the parking-lot beside the
    high-rise. Reducing speed so that he could relish to the full this moment of
    arrival, he sat back comfortably behind the wheel and looked up with a
    confident eye at the face of the apartment building. Around him the long ranks
    of parked cars were covered with a thickening layer of dirt and cement dust,
    blown across the open plazas of the development project from the road junction
    under construction behind the medical centre. Few cars now left the
    parking-lot, and there were almost no free spaces, but Wilder drove up and
    down the access lanes, stopping at the end of each file and reversing back to
    his starting point.

    Wilder fingered the freshly healed scar on his unshaven chin, relic of a
    vigorous corridor battle the previous night. Deliberately he reopened the
    wound, and glanced with satisfaction at the point of blood on his finger. He
    had driven from the television station at speed, as if trying to emerge from
    an angry dream, shouting and sounding the horn at other drivers in his way,
    cutting up one-way streets. Now he felt calm and relaxed. The first sight of
    the line of five apartment buildings soothed him as usual, providing a context
    of reality absent from the studios. Confident that he would find a free space, Wilder continued his patrol.
    Originally he had parked, along with his neighbours on the lower floors, in
    the ranks along the perimeter of the parking-lot, but during the previous
    weeks he had been moving his car nearer to the building. What had begun as a
    harmless piece of vanity -- an ironic joke at his own expense -- had soon
    taken on a more serious role, a visible index of his success or failure. After
    several weeks dedicated to his ascent of the building he felt entitled to park
    in those files reserved for his new neighbours. Ultimately he would reach the
    front rank. At the moment of his triumph, when he climbed to the 40th floor,
    his car would join the line of expensive wrecks nearest to the apartment block.
    For several hours the previous night Wilder had reached the 20th floor and
    even, during the few minutes of an unexpected skirmish, the 25th.

    By dawn he had been forced to retire from this advance position to his present base camp,an apartment on the 17th floor owned by a stage manager at the television
    station, a former drinking companion named Hillman who had grudgingly accepted
    this cuckoo in his nest. The occupation of a floor, in Wilder's strict sense
    of the term, meant more than the casual seizure of an abandoned apartment.

    Dozens of these were scattered throughout the high-rise. Wilder had imposed on
    himself a harder definition of ascent -- he had to be accepted by his new
    neighbours as one of them, the holder of a tenancy won by something other than
    physical force. In short, he insisted that they need him -- when he thought
    about it, a notion that made him snort.

    He had reached the 20th floor as a result of one of the many demographic
    freaks that had confused his progress through the building. During the running
    battles that had filled the night he found himself helping to barricade the
    damaged door of an apartment on the 20th floor owned by two women stock-market
    analysts. After trying to brain him with a champagne bottle as he pushed his
    head through the broken panel, they had welcomed Wilder's easy-going offer to
    help -- he deliberately was never more calm than at these moments of crisis.
    In fact, the older of the two, a spirited blonde of thirty, had complimented
    Wilder on being the only sane man she had met in the high-rise. For his part,
    Wilder was glad to play a domestic role rather than the populist leader and
    Bonaparte of the elevator-lobby barricades, instructing an ill-trained militia
    of magazine editors and finance company executives in how to storm a defended
    staircase or capture a rival elevator. Apart from anything else, the higher up
    the building he climbed, the worse the physical condition of the residents --
    hours on the gymnasium exercycles had equipped them for no more than hours on
    the gymnasium exercycles.

    After helping the two women, he spent the period before dawn drinking their
    wine and manoeuvring them into making the suggestion that he move into their
    apartment. As usual, he gestured grandly with his cine-camera and told them
    about his television documentary on the high-rise, inviting them to appear
    on screen. But neither was particularly impressed by the offer.

    Although the lower-level tenants were keen to take part in the programme and
    vent their grievances, the people living on the upper floors had appeared on
    television already, often more than once, as professional experts on various
    current-affairs programmes. "Television is for watching, Wilder," one of the
    women told him firmly, "not for appearing on."

    Soon after dawn, the members of a women's raiding-party appeared. Their
    husbands and companions had either moved in with friends on other floors or
    exited from their lives altogether. The leader of the pack, the elderly children's-story writer, gazed balefully
    at Wilder when he offered her the starring role in his documentary. Taking the
    hint, Wilder bowed out and returned to his previously secure base, the
    Hillmans' apartment on the 17th floor.
    Thirty feet away, as Wilder drove around the parking-lot, determined to find a
    rank in keeping with his new station, a bottle shattered across a car roof,
    vanishing in a brittle cloud-
    burst. The bottle had been dropped from a height, conceivably from the 40th
    floor. Wilder slowed his car almost to a halt, offering himself as a target.
    He half expected to see the white-jacketed figure of Anthony Royal standing in
    one of his messianic poses on the parapet of his penthouse, the white alsatian
    at his heels.

    During the past days he had caught several glimpses of the architect, standing
    high above Wilder at the top of a staircase, disappearing in a commandeered
    elevator towards the fastnesses of the top floors. Without any doubt, he was
    deliberately exposing himself to Wilder, tempting him upwards. At times Royal
    seemed to be uncannily aware of the confused image of his natural father that
    hovered in the attics of Wilder's mind, glimpsed always in the high windows of
    his nursery.
    Had Royal set out to play this role, knowing that Wilder's confusions about
    his father would deflect his resolve to climb the building? Wilder drummed his
    heavy fists on the steering wheel.
    Each night he moved closer to Royal, a few steps nearer their ultimate
    confrontation.
    Broken glass crackled under his tyres, as if unzipping the treads. Directly
    ahead of Wilder, in the front rank reserved for the top-floor residents, was a free
    space once occupied by the dead jeweller's car. Without hesitating, Wilder
    spun the wheel and steered into the open space.
    "Not before time . . ."
    He sat back expansively, gazing with pleasure at the garbage-strewn wrecks on
    either side.

    The appearance of the space was a good omen. He took his time getting out of
    the car, and slammed the door aggressively. As he strode towards the entrance
    he felt like a well-to-do landowner who had just bought himself a mountain.
    In the entrance lobby a group of down-at-heel 1st-floor residents watched
    Wilder stride past the elevators to the stairway. They were suspicious of his
    movements around the building, his changing allegiances. During the day Wilder
    spent a few hours with Helen and his sons in the and floor apartment, trying
    to rally his increasingly withdrawn wife. Sooner or later he would have to
    leave her for ever. In the evenings, when he renewed his ascent of the
    high-rise, she would come alive a little, perhaps even speak to him about his
    work at the television studios, referring to programs on which he had worked
    years before. The previous night, as he prepared to leave, settling his sons
    and testing the locks on the doors, Helen had suddenly embraced him, as if
    wanting him to stay. The muscles of her thin face had moved through an
    irregular sequence of tremors, like tumblers trying to fall into place.
    To Wilder's surprise, when he returned to the apartment he found Helen in a
    state of high excitement. He made his way around the garbage-sacks and
    barricades of broken furniture that blocked the corridor. Helen and a group of
    wives were celebrating a minor triumph. The tired women with their unruly
    children -- the civil war within the high-rise had made them as combative as
    their parents -- formed a wistful tenement tableau.
    Two young women from the 7th floor, who had once worked as teachers in the
    junior school, had volunteered to reopen the classes. From their uneasy
    glances at the vigilante group of three fathers -- a computer-time salesman, a
    sound man and a travel-agency courier -- standing between them and the door
    Wilder guessed that they were the victims of a less than gentle abduction.
    As he prepared a meal from the last of the canned food, Helen sat at the
    kitchen table, her white hands moving about like a pair of confused birds in a
    cage.
    "I can barely believe it -- I'll be free of the boys for an hour or two."
    "Where are these classes being held ?"
    "Here -- for thenext two mornings. It's the least I can do."
    "But you won't be away from the boys at all. Well, anything's better than
    nothing/ Would she ever abandon the children? Wilder asked himself. It was all she
    thought about.
    As he played with his sons he seriously considered taking them with him on his
    climb. He watched Helen making a nervous effort to tidy the apartment. The l
    iving-room had been ransacked during a raid. While Helen and the boys sheltered in a neighbour's
    apartment, most of the furniture had been broken, the kitchen kicked to a shambles. Helen carried the wrecked chairs from the dining-room, lining them up in front of Wilder's broken-backed desk.

    The tilting chairs leaned against each other in a scarecrow parody of a children's
    classroom.
    Wilder made no effort to help. He watched her thin arms dragging at the
    furniture. At times he almost suspected that she was deliberately exhausting
    herself, and that the bruises on her wrists and knees were part of an
    elaborate system of conscious self-mutilation, an attempt to win back her
    husband -- each day when he returned home he half expected to find her in an
    invalid chair, legs broken and trepan bandage around her shaven head, about to
    take the last desperate step of lobotomy.

    Why did he keep coming back to her? His one ambition now was to get away from
    Helen, and overcome that need to return to the apartment each afternoon and
    whatever threadbare links it maintained with his own childhood. By leaving
    Helen he would break away from the whole system of juvenile restraints he had
    been trying to shake off since his adolescence. Even his compulsive womanizing
    was part of the same attempt to free himself from the past, an attempt that
    Helen brought to nothing by turning a blind eye. At least, however, his
    affairs had prepared the ground for his ascent of the high-rise, those literal
    handholds which would carry him on his climb to the roof over the supine
    bodies of the women he had known. He found it difficult now to feel much involvement with his wife's plight, or
    with her neighbours and their narrow, defeated lives. Already it was clear
    that the lower floors were doomed. Even their insistence on educating their
    children, the last reflex of any exploited group before it sank into
    submission, marked the end of their resistance. Helen was even being helped
    now by the women's group from the 29th floor. During the noon armistice the
    chil-dren's-story writer and her minions moved through the apartment building,
    offering help to abandoned or isolated wives, sisters of sinister charity.
    Wilder went into his sons' bedroom. Glad to see Wilder, they banged their
    empty feeding-bowls with their plastic machine-pistols. They were dressed in
    miniature paratroopers' camouflage suits and tin helmets -- the wrong outfit,
    Wilder reflected, in the light of what had been taking place in the high-rise.
    The correct combat costume was stockbroker's pin-stripe, briefcase and homburg.


    The boys were hungry. After calling to Helen he returned to the kitchen. Helen
    was slumped on her knees in front of the electric cooker. The door was open,
    and Wilder had the sudden notion that she was trying to hide her small body in
    the oven -- perhaps cook herself, the ultimate sacrifice for her family.
    "Helen . . ." He bent down, surprised by the slightness of her body, a
    collection of sticks inside her pallid skin. "For heaven's sake, you're like .
    . ."
    "It's all right . . . I'll have something later." She pulled herself away from
    him, and began to pick without thinking at the burnt fat on the oven floor.
    Looking down at her huddled at his feet, Wilder realized that she had
    momentarily fainted from hunger.
    Wilder let her subside against the cooker. He scanned the empty shelves of the
    pantry.
    "Stay here -- I'll go up to the supermarket and get you something to eat."
    Angry with her, he snapped, "Why didn't you tell me you were starving
    yourself?"
    "Richard, I've mentioned it a hundred times."
    She watched him from the floor as he hunted in her purse for money, something
    Wilder had found less and less use for recently. He had not even bothered to
    pay his latest salary cheque into his account. He picked up his cine-camera,
    making sure that the lens shroud was in place. As he looked back at Helen he
    noticed that her eyes were surprisingly hard within her small face, almost as
    if she was amused by her husband's dependence on the fictions of this
    elaborate toy.

    Locking the apartment door behind him, Wilder set off in search of food and
    water. During the afternoon lull, one access route to the 10th-floor
    supermarket was still allowed the tenants in the lower section of the
    apartment building. Most of the stairways were blocked by permanent barricades
    -- living-room furniture, dining-tables and washing-machines piled high
    between the steps and ceilings. More than a dozen of the twenty elevators were
    out of order. The remainder functioned intermittently, at the whim of any
    superior clan.
    In the lobby Wilder peered cautiously up the empty shafts. Sections of metal
    railing and water pipes crisscrossed the shafts, inserted like stop indicators
    to prevent the cars moving up or down, and almost formed a staircase of their
    own.
    The walls were covered with slogans and obscenities, lists of apartments to be
    vandalized like an insane directory. By the stairwell doors a military-style
    message in sober lettering pointed to the one safe staircase to be used during
    the early afternoon, and the obligatory curfew time, three o'clock.
    Wilder raised his camera and stared at the message through the view-finder.
    The shot would make a striking opening title sequence for the documentary on
    the high-rise. He was still aware of the need to make a visual record of what
    had happened within the apartment building, but the resolve had begun to fade.
    The decline of the apartment building reminded him of a slow-motion newsreel
    of a town in the Andes being carried down the mountain slopes to its death,
    the inhabitants still hanging out their washing in the disintegrating gardens,
    cooking in their kitchens as the walls were pulverized around them.
    Twenty of the floors in the high-rise were now in darkness at night, and over
    a hundred apartments had been abandoned by their owners. The clan system,
    which had once given a measure of security to the residents, had now largely
    broken down, individual groups drifting into apathy or paranoia. Everywhere
    people were retreating into their apartments, even into one room, and
    barricading themselves away. At the 5th floor landing Wilder paused, surprised
    that there was no one around. He waited by the lobby doors, listening for any
    suspicious sound. The tall figure of a middle-aged sociologist, garbage-pail
    in hand, emerged from the shadows and drifted like a ghost along the
    refuse-strewn corridor. For all the building's derelict state -- almost no water was flowing, the
    air-conditioning vents were blocked with garbage and excrement, rails ripped
    off the staircase balustrades -- the behaviour of the residents during the
    daylight hours for the most part remained restrained. At the
    7th-floor landing Wilder stopped and relieved himself against the steps. In a
    way he was surprised by the sight of the urine running away between his feet.
    However, this was the mildest display of crudity. During the brawls and
    running battles of the night he was aware that he took a distinct and unguilty
    pleasure in urinating wherever he cared, defaecating in abandoned apartments
    regardless of the health hazards to himself and his family. The previous night
    he had enjoyed pushing around a terrified woman who remonstrated with him for
    relieving himself on her bathroom floor.
    Nonetheless, Wilder welcomed and understood the night -- only in the darkness
    could one become sufficiently obsessive, deliberately play on all one's
    repressed instincts. He welcomed this forced conscription degenerate
    behaviour became easier the higher he moved up the building, as if
    encouraged by the secret logic of the high-rise.


    The 10th-floor concourse was deserted. Wilder pushed back the staircase doors
    with their shattered glass and walked out on to the shopping mall. The bank
    had closed, along with the hairdressing salon and the liquor store. The last
    supermarket cashier -- the wife of a cameraman on the 3rd floor -- sat
    stoically at her check-out point, presiding like a doomed Britannia over a sea
    of debris. Wilder strolled around the empty shelves. Rotting packs floated in
    the greasy water at the bottom of the freezer cabinets. In the centre of the
    supermarket a pyramid of dog-biscuit cartons had collapsed across the aisle.
    Wilder filled a basket with three of the cartons and half a dozen cans of
    cat-meat.

    Together they would keep Helen and the boys alive until he could break into an
    apartment and raid a food cache.
    "There's nothing here but pet food," he told the cashier at the check-out.
    "Have you stopped ordering?"
    "There's no demand," she told him. She played absent-mindedly with an open
    wound on her forehead. "Everyone must have stocked up months ago."
    This was not true, Wilder reflected as he walked away towards the elevator
    lobby, leaving her alone on the huge concourse. As he knew full well, having
    broken into any number of apartments, few people had any reserve supplies
    whatever. It was as if they were no longer giving any thought to what they
    might need the next day.
    Fifty feet away, beyond the overturned hair-driers lying outside the salon,
    the elevator indicator lights moved from right to left. The last public
    elevator of the day was winding itself up the building. Somewhere between the
    25th and 30th floors it would be brought to a halt at the whim of a look-out,
    marking the end of the mid-day armistice and the beginnings of another night.
    Without thinking, Wilder quickened his pace. He reached the doors as the
    elevator paused at the 9th floor to discharge a passenger. At the last moment,
    as it resumed its ascent, Wilder pressed the button.
    In the few seconds that remained before the doors opened he realized that he
    had already decided to abandon Helen and his sons for good. Only one direction
    lay before him -- up. Like a climber resting a hundred feet from the summit,
    he had no option but to ascend.
    The elevator doors opened. Some fifteen passengers faced him, standing rigidly
    together like plastic mannequins. There was a fractional movement of feet as a
    space was made for Wilder.
    Wilder hesitated, controlling his impulse to turn and run down the staircase
    to his apartment. The eyes of the passengers were fixed on him, wary of his
    indecision and suspecting that it might conceal a ruse of some kind.
    As the doors began to close Wilder stepped forward into the elevator, the
    cine-camera raised in front of him, and began once again his ascent of the
    high-rise.
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    13 a) the climate uninhabitable - brand nabs

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Mon Jun 04, 2012 4:48 pm



    IN Lakech (I AM another yourself:)))

    I’ll tell you what many are trained to think abou……uh!

    : The entity that is after your soul is mythology, dear ones. It doesn’t exist in your reality. But you might say, “Wait a minute, Kryon. Are you telling me evil doesn’t exist?” No, dear ones, I didn’t say that. What I’m telling you is that all the darkness on this planet has come from Human Beings. You don’t need to assign energy to a mythological creature to have evil on the earth. The darkest of the dark can be created by the Humans if they choose to do that. Dark power can be created because Humans are powerful and can manifest it. Darkness is not that hard to manifest

    It’s a concept


    13 a) the climate uninhabitable brand nabs
    =p'ooZetoolatte 1.1: “In fourth-dimensional time, consciousness is viewed as the continuum of the evolution of time across the whole evolutionary spectrum of Intelligence. This evolutionary spectrum of intelligence is called the Galactic Brain, and represents the index of time vectored potentials. Governing pre-life, instinctual life, telepathic life, and pure mind


    Cosmogenetic's view it here



    And thats when moles match digging
    HOLES thru the mud of other's selfimport....


    As our consciousness evolves and expands, we’re increasingly remembering more of our multidimensional memories from other timelines, events, actions, and hijacked timelines crafted by negative Alien beings. Many of these negative Alien’s actions are nearly incomprehensible to us due to the extent of the evil they’ve done to humanity. I know how hard many of these negative Alien’s past and present actions and agendas are for many Starseeds to even comprehend and cope with consciously. But this is the phase and level we’re at now and many of us have to remember more and consciously admit to the scope of negativity that is “normal” to Team Dark members. I know how hard it is for most of us to even have this type of awareness in our minds and hearts because they simply do not fit due to their profound negativity and parasitic qualities. This is how alien they really are and why we’ve been working so hard to energetically override, disintegrate, and permanently remove them.



    the fire in the soul of Occupy burns from Oakland to
    Quebec, Barcelona to Chicago, Wall Street to Moscow and Frankfurt… the question now is which fork in the road will our movemenT - frozen IN defenceMECHanISMS - n ou men noia - take…h


    Things seems to go in multiple strange directions : the year of new battles,
    great battles, years deep, human society changing for the better lifestyles, while... the warriors involved in the freedom of perception, work very hard in the face of their spirits and need to be clean, completely clean.
    Time news arrives to give life, in this work
    .


    war is here. Every time we hear about human suicide bombers, car bombs, landmines, mine fields, grenade explosions, bomb explosions and any other patriarchal warring tools designed to kill, mutilate and blast to bits other living humans, know that those etheric human body parts and pieces of exploded flesh are energetically caught and utilized like this by non-physical Team Dark. Even if the human lost a limb(s) but survived physically, these etheric body parts are impaled and trapped in these other-dimensional Astral nets where they’re USED by negative, non-physical Aliens and other non-physical parasitic entities for the energy they naturally produce. Every inch of us in every dimension (physical, emotional, mental etc.) is holographic and contains all of Source, all of the All That Is in it. Every inch of us is profoundly multidimensionally potent and important and produces energy even when physically ripped from our bodies and exploded to bits.

    “Approximately Mid April, the main hub networks of the Mira Flores Grey Alien technology base was systematically annihilated to prevent the May 1st Beltaine Agenda.


    It pulls the energy of the heart-strings; tugging each toward its native harmonic, inculcating discordance in individual resonance as we strive toward cohesion, personal and collective.
    This war is necessary. Dynamic energies may not be bound rigid long. Universe provides for the potential for balance through the release of chaos.

    how do we say in geeeRmoney: die kacke ist am dampfen, everywhere.. not only on this forum here.
    Negatives whisper in our etheric ears oftentimes? “This is normal, this is natural, don’t do anything, don’t move, don’t do anything, this is normal, this is natural…”.
    Its normal for many on this forum, not for all.

    Unleashing the Power of Consciousness, Matter and Miracles, cells do read and respond to the conditions of their environment, in the now, using membrane protein.

    'New' Biology is based upon the fact that perception controls behavior and gene activity! AND NOT THE OTHER WAY ROUND as ops have made us believe thru their fake construkz

    "OM MANI PADME HUM" loosely translates as COMPASSION.

    All manner of thought-form patterns can mix and mingle to build a sustainable, pristine future for the planet. Thought forms always seek out other like-minded thought forms to build ever larger cluster of energy. Like attracts like, and so be clear on your choices and visions for the future.,,,,,,,,perception switches.
    The sincere individual is open to knowing truth and therefore has set in motion the vibrations necessary for the universe to answer, and the answer shall surely come to that open minded individual in ways he or she may not expect
    .



    What happens to your neuroses and complexes when you have calibrated calendars rightly? What to your physical ailments after you have counted out mathematical finit- and infinitesimal probabilities.
    Are you waiting to be SAVED?
    Like all the others that you brand as NABSers…….IARE WE given you information of love about the planet and your own energyGuard your focus.
    i understand it to be the energy of Tezcatlipoca...smokey mirror...where confusion dominantes as the old guard tries to regain control...yet this 'energy' sets up the next Day ... this appearing of cultural imperialism
    will we come to realize we are interconnected by a personal revelation of some sort, before the "shift" occurs?

    Balance happens if everyone participates rather then gathering up their marbles and taking off. Now we speak of the recalibration of dark and light and what it means to you.

    I have checked on my Dreamspell calculator and it is true that the sign for 4th June was Blue Crystal Hand (equivalent daysign to 12 Manik/Deer in the Maya & Aztec versions), and it is also true that 21 December 2012 is the same daysign in Dreamspell. However, this is just an artefact of the system on which Dreamspell is based. In the True Count, December 21st 2012 is 4 Ahau, and 6th June 2004 is also 4 Ahau. The actual Venus transit in 2004, on June 8th, was 6 Ik, and Ik is wind and is the sign of Quetzalcoatl, who is associated with Venus! In 2012, the Venus transit will be on June 6th, and this will ALSO be an Ik day (1 Ik in the True Count)... the reason is that Venus transits are exactly eight haabs (365-day years) apart, and this was of massive significance to the Maya, since this period of eight haabs is 146 uinals (revolutions of the 20 day-signs), which is why they are both Ik days. 146 revolutions of the 260-day Tzolkin, on the other hand, gives the Venus Round 37,960 days, which is 104 haabs, two Calendar Rounds, and 65 Venus cycles (584 days each). Carrying it a stage further, three Venus Rounds are equal to one Mars Round, which is 146 Mars cycles of 780 days each (the Etchilhampton grid of 1997 had 780 squares).

    All this significance is lost in the Dreamspell system, because they freeze the Tzolkin count at leap years, so the transits will not occur on the same daysign, and the Dreamspell does not incorporate the haab.
    But it incorporates the cosmos.
    it is is revisionisstic arseholery to divide
    to want to be better then
    to say the other is bad
    thats just divide and conquer-strategy as is conjured by cabal and all following straws and whatsoever timelines injurRING person/entity/ notkin… with visible AND HIDDEN intent are falling into this trap. couldn't figure out so many deviation from this here yet!

    while arguelles is all ways encompassing uniting


    all those arguelles critics are still infected by their old egos. For Valum Votan not a prob, as he'd lost his old identity completely , lost the need to strive for honour never lost his sense of humour about those competitors, know it alls, slimers for attention as they thrive on thuban camelot, avalon, callemanforum ,et altery.
    Divide @ Impera the darks concept is transported deeply into our communities. Does not mean on LoT beee all proper and green. While on the 2013 miseryQ-channel the thingy is goin' more direction blunt distraction, laying false traces and deviating on purpose: 'Let’s make a bla bylon 13 Moon blog where everybody presents personal version!. A WS with 9 days sounds very much like the C.J. Callemann system.
    mirror can loose its clearness, a different order enters the picture. This is the order based on the seven-day weekly 12:60 order where every week repeats a superstitious program, that repeats incessantly-breeding perpetual dissatisfaction…..12:60…. Babylon _ mindmeme sprouting -as oUR excitational sense-spore- FEELING capacities intrinsically ought to bloom. Does anyone else here have to "evangelise " this Mayan Prophesy, lol?

    ! comments are basically ignored.

    and here on gaia, what was supposed to be a 'social platform' is now due to the ivory-tower attitude of exact same ....a graveyard of unexpressed feelings. And i am the only one, who shows at least signs of lifeliness for those who still can perceive it.. and now expelled from my ancestral point of reference, near my very anti-ptb-thread, by an latina who's not capable of reading and understanding them lol.

    it is a bit like zappa once said: the quantum-jazz here is not dead it just stinks a little. like repressed feelings. Could they be nice and warm and FEMALE in character '?

    The Feminine side of polarity is brought forward FOR THE ONLY REASON that it must be brought into balance with the masculine, wrung free of emotional glamour and used to end war and suffering.Win d' oW 10.2…and you go to the end of the Divine thought where passion and compassion blend in cosmic unity.
    The theophysics process is completed in the combustion fires of inner worlds of each and every one. Anonymity has been the best disguise in the external world.

    Patience is concentrated strength. It invokes the power of silence to the ultimate degree.

    Once the biomass is transmuted into Mind, Ego relishes the role of Superhero, and rightly so. It learns to enjoy its outer disguise when operating in the external world of the illusion. While in the internal theatre, self love transforms the "cave" into a star ship, beyond the ravages of MEST, into a world of self actualization in two dimensions.


    Fire is desire. Ice is mind control. These work in yang-yin partnership to attain the common goal, THY KINGDOM COME! For this reason it is not necessary to court external vanity by advertising our Superbeing status publicly or "cast pearls before swine". Just knowing what we have to do and doing it brings its own reward of inner rapture.


    At this window, we step off the "wheel of karma" and can understand the principle of the life cycle of the electron (7.7). This represents the end of your Genesis One cycle, Ego-death, an instant rebirth into Genesis Two: B-201 as Ganesh would say. Cold Nuclear Fusion, or interdimensional Bonding, is understood by the geometry of two parallel lines (as depicted in many of the ancient mammoth drawings) which never appear to meet. But at the ultimate understanding we see there is no such thing as a straight line, only cubical wavefield thought.


    Interdimensional Bonding takes place at the electromagnetic "Middle Pillar". The "Natural Mind" has been coaxed from its reptilian origins and left brain dominance, by "irritability" to the Light. This super-intelligence titillates the animal mind by inflowing light waves, or holographic images which quicken the imagination, as "time" returns to light.
    The movement of this pattern of four units to the right and left of the central column defines the 64-unit symmetrical field. The 64-unit "keyboard" is the genetic matrix of transformation which unifies the entire 260-unit Tzolkin. The remainder of the Tzolkin, aside from the neural-valued twenty-unit mystic column, breaks down into 144 units of a four-phased radiant energy body, and 32 units of an eight-part crystal symmetry body. The total of twelve (four radiant energy body and eight crystal symmetry) fields of the Tzolkin contain the code information describing the pre- and post-genetic radiance of galactic unfolding. The thirteenth field of the Tzolkin is, of course, at the center and represents the DNA.
    Modeling the pre- and post-technological formula defining history, DNA is the transformation matrix holding together primordial and synthesizing phases of radiant and crystalline energy activation. By its centrality in the overall matrix, the function of DNA is to vitalize the entire galactic activation pattern. As a fractal of the galactic whole, and of the geometry of DNA itself, the function of history/technology is to vitalize equally the radiant energy fields that define pre- and post-history.
    How does this occur? The answer lies in following the pattern. This pattern, anchored by the fourteen galactic activation units on either side of the mystic column, describes the vibratory infrastructure not only of DNA, but of the universal light body. Holonomically registered at the cellular, individual organism, planetary, solar, and galactic levels, this vibratory infrastructure can also be read as the structural matrix supporting the wave harmonic of history as it passes through the 5,200-tun synchronization beam. Without the activation of the two-way flow during passage through the synchronization beam, the planetary light body would not be crafted. This two-way flow is the Zuvuya, the coming from and returning to Hunab Ku, the galactic core.


    I doubt that anything ever changes much by evangelism. Seems rather to create division and polarize, as there will always be those who follow and those who resist. I doubt that the Mayan prophecy is a mainstream event. The message to return to an accountable way of living with nature and natural timing rhythms and cycles is seen as something so trivial and far too simplistic for our sophisticated times.
    it seems the status quo sticky soup will get thicker this night cycle which is obvious i guess as systems are threatened with the expanding awareness of people worldwide.

    Arguelles sees more of a picnic between his Dreamspell calendar and the Mayan calendar as he writes, "I try to discourage 13 Moon calendar and Dreamspell people from calling their workshops "Mayan calendar" workshops. Even though the Dreamspell is based on the same mathematical system , it is not the Mayan calendar as traditionally understood, nor was it ever meant to be. It was specifically "channelled" as a new universal system for the planetary human at this time. I think all of us need a bit more humor and tolerance. We all have the same roots, and are all working toward the same end, 2012. 'So let's get together, and smile on our brothers and sisters, and try to love one another everywhere right now!"
    Give thanks and courageously
    seek to find the Beauty in the illusion of imperfection
    .

    There has a choice to be made - if you wish to survive .
    But not with sociopathetic features you are spreading here all over the place - filling it up with all but an harmonic, appreciative atmosphere thereby muzzling the majority of the people . Gawd those unrelenting Team Dark bastards! How much are you willing to know anyway?


    While reading about these “Alien Love Bites” manipulations I was so angry that I’d been had yet again by Team Dark. After the initial anger I realized how foolish I’d been not realizing that if Team Dark can do what all they have to humanity, Starseeds, Lightworkers, Indigos etc., then they can very easily manipulate and direct human romantic and sexual relationships! In my case with this young plumber in 2004, it was a derailment tactic intended to distract me as a Starseed working on the Ascension timeline. /Thank you denise.
    The LINK & Needing To Know More

    You can’t release something if you don’t know what it is you are releasing.
    Accepting what has happened in all of its horror transforms a soul, and enables deprogramming.
    After the leap from the narrow subjective satanic point of view, bring the visions of your soul's imagination into reality instead– the proof being the existence of ‘real’ castles on your world. Green castles of enchantment (current dream spell-section)


    TIME IS too slow for those who wait,
    too swift for those who fear,
    too long for those who grieve,
    too short for those who rejoice,
    but for those who love, time is eternity.


    as time goes by.....and even flowers must die.... recapitulating my 2-years experience here on 2hbans

    this choice is about our common thuban evolutionary feature here: change of what is celebrated here : As soon as it gets hot you witness
    -
    smouldering heels --------> illustraiting current smouldering E-Gesocks goings here….Negatives whisper in our etheric ears oftentimes? “This is normal, this is natural, don’t do anything, don’t move, don’t do anything, this is normal, this is natural…”.

    But whenever you hide yourselves,
    I myself will appear.
    For whenever you appear,
    I myself will hide from you.
    Those who have [...] to it [...] senselessly [...].
    Take me [... understanding] from grief.
    and take me to yourselves from understanding and grief.
    And take me to yourselves from places that are ugly and in ruin,
    and rob from those which are good even though in ugliness.
    Out of shame, take me to yourselves shamelessly;
    and out of shamelessness and shame,
    upbraid my members in yourselves.
    >
    > my bleeding heart zssss…as of the selfdemise of so many here on the thub and 201miseryQ> Jiynn … wey-YAthek it ss Ylow

    While on
    http://camelotforum.org/index.php?option=com_kunena&func=view&catid=10&id=80903&Itemid=164 Final Words are swung

    and elsewhere, too swaggering chaotic energies aboun
    http://www.themistsofavalon.net/t4710p180-aliens-and-eugenics?highlight=Eugenics d

    > they have not suffered enough then- a
    Pacal Votan Clear Sign!


    .> all double numbers pertain to 'awareness of the dreamer'' …evolving awareness



    > prime numbers to awareness of the nagual 'inherent awareness'' like 9 > completion

    > all other numbers are merely complex permutations: pertain to life the physical plane that is ''to the dreamed''

    sacred code, permeating the chain of seQuences, processing…in a dual turbolatory way


    resulting in the oncoming fact, that the slightest unconscious insult same as the bluntest staggering abnegation of any halfintelligent know-it-alls ….is corrected...

    ''LEGOMINISM'', gurdjiew called it lol

    all the the foul winds of those fakered 3 :p-egality -contrivers (under the mantle of..whatever label /brand) are returning to their source


    Everyone holds only a tiny part of truth in their being according to their personal understanding, and of course according to the belief systems they grew up in......all those shall fall away as the scaffolding they have served as to create a firm foundation of faith.
    14:33

    It might interest you to know, that ego may not play a role in revealing things which are hidden. .. but
    In Gratitude, remember, we are designed to be flow-ers of Life, and our natural impulse to thrive becomes a dance with the Divine ... an ever unfolding adventure. "

    I'm holy, but only as the leaves are

    and miraculous but only as the wind is

    that rushes through the open window of my mind

    filling it with times and places that spring alive

    and open up the geography of my brain

    into the heart of creation.


    When you begin to take the active role and leave behind the excuses, you will then be creating the excitement of living for which you yearn.


    And the magnetic north pole is moving faster than ever in human history from the icy wilderness of Canada, towards Russia threatening everything from the safety of modern transport systems to the traditional navigation routes of migrating animals. It is attributed to an as yet unidentified planet in our solar system recently confirmed to exist.


    KALI-fraterNIZinG...starting from south pole... gotta nu faV...

    BEE BEE… -- -

    lol
    http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZlQGURSW2D4
    A

    4
    4R

    2''ss everywhere A glimpse into the hidden world of classified space missions is found in the memoirs of President Ronald Reagan. The entry for Tuesday, June 11, 1985 (page 334) reads:

    Lunch with 5 top space scientist. It was fascinating. Space truly is the last frontier and some of the developments there in astronomy etc. are like science fiction, except they are real. I learned that our shuttle capacity is such that we could orbit 300 people.
    spaceX docking european¿ ISS: the dark side of corporations in space

    This is curious since the Space Shuttle held a maximum of eight people and only five were built for space flight. Even if all five took off fully loaded at any one time, it would have been impossible to place and maintain 300 astronauts in orbit. Was Reagan revealing the existence of a highly classified space program different to NASA’s, that could accommodate hundreds of astronauts in orbit? Yes, according to dozens of military and corporate whistleblowers, who claim that a secret space program exists, and was built by private corporations
    What is evident is that a time of great conflict is nearing. The day before the Dragon capsule docked with the International Space Station, Andre Kuipers, one of the astronauts aboard the ISS, took the following photograph of the earth.
    Kuipers, who is Dutch, put this up with the caption "Er zit een draak achter ons aan!" —
    29.05.12 14:40Aside from the capsule itself bearing the name “Dragon,” the vessel utilizes a navigation sensor called the “DragonEye.” The capsule also has 18 (6 6 6) thrusters that are collectively called “Draco.” Draco is the name of a constellation in the heavens. i
    29.05.12 19:43
    another ooone
    Revelation 12:9
    And the great dragon was thrown down, the serpent of old who is called the devil and Satan, who deceives the wh….


    and Dragon Capsule Captured by ISS


    well i mean 'one of those 'past' parallel 'futur' artificial demonic life-template construcst... that the universe et uses here as 'dwelling time' is yes CG JUNGS "inner dragon siege" archetype-meme -komplex




    Maybe Humans are a meme too? For the reps? An easy catch!!
    Joseph Ratzinger is an expert at making people disappear, having run the papal Inquisition – renamed the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith – for many years. But the very absoluteness of his power as Grand Inquisitor made Ratzinger many enemies, and the latter are gathering nowadays to help expose their adversary.

    Some of the documents held by the butler Paolo suggest that the Pope personally accepted bribes to award Vatican contracts to friends and supporters of his, and that he engineered a cover up of the whole thing, including by expelling Vatican City governor Archbishop Carlo Vigano last year when he asked the Pope to come clean.

    "The Vatican, the mafia, and the government, they’re really all the same men, and they have one major concern: to hold on to their revenues. They are terrified that the ORI (Vatican Bank) will suffer from these scandals and will lose its credit standing with the banking cartels. They will never let that happen, even if the heads of popes have to roll in the dust.”
    So it’s an interesting question: who is more powerful, ultimately – the “Master and God” himself, or his creditors? The image, or the finances?
    http://magdalenelaundriesabuse.blogspot.ch/

    a historic protest in Italy against the Vatican;
    http://www.axelcooley.com/2012/06/historic-italy-protest-against.html
    On May 30, our global network of over fifty organizations issued an historic declaration to the Vatican and Joseph Ratzinger. (see www.itccs.org)
    This statement announced our intent to globally publish the identity of known child raping clergy and their helpers, and to perform citizens’ arrests of these sick predators because of the continued refusal of police and judicial authorities to do so.



    Think about your complex emotions and the feelings, remembering the love you have for another. Do you really think all this was a cosmic accident?

    The main answer lies within the facts of social and spiritual control of the population.AND ITS NOT ONLY THE OUTER FREQUENCY SHOCK. Both Hitler and Stalin used fluoride as a way to control population since it made people docile and more pron to accept what they were told. For instance it has been used as a tranquilizer in prison camps. [read more
    2]The idea of subjugating and controlling populations by medicines and toxins didn't stop with the end of WWII.Fluorine is a halogen, like chlorine and iodine. It is the smallest and most reactive element in the halogen family (elements with 7 electrons in their outer shell). Fluorine exists in nature attached to other elements as the negatively charged ion fluoride, most notably to hydrogen, calcium, sodium, aluminum, sulfur, and silicon. Sodium fluoride, a by-product of aluminum smelting, initially was used to fluoridate water. Silicofluorides (fluoride combined with silicon), wastes of phosphate fertilizer production, are now used almost exclusively for fluoridation. Fluorine is also present in compounds called organofluorines, where fluorine atoms (not fluoride anions) are tightly bound to carbon. Teflon (poly-tetra-fluoro-ethylene), Gore-Tex, and many drugs, Prozac (fluoxetine), Cipro (ciprofloxacin), and Baycol (cerivastatin) among them, are organofluorines. [source]
    Most skeptics just argues that Fluoride exists naturally in nature, and indeed it does. But this fact simply doesn't explain why in the world you should drink, bath or brush your teeth with it since it's regarded as a poison. Any positive effect is vastly diminished when confronted with the negative effects from fluoride.
    Fluoride disrupts enzymes (by altering their hydrogen bonds) and prevents them from doing their job of making proteins, collagen in particular, the structural protein for bone and teeth, ligaments, tendons, and muscles. It damages DNA repair enzymes and inhibits the enzyme acetylcholinesterase in the brain, which is involved in transmitting signals along nerve cells. All cells in the body depend on enzymes. [
    source]

    Negative spiritual consequences from fluoride:

    Fluoride is causing calcification of the Pineal Gland, the gland which René Descartes referred to as "The seat of the soul." This gland is located at the "Third Eye" or the "Brow Chakra".

    Depending on your personal viewpoint and what you already believe about your inner spiritual nature, the consequences from
    calcification of the Pineal Gland means, that the essential connection where the "spiritual experience" connects with your brain is being damaged.

    In other words: If you keep using fluoride, you will understand and grasp less and less of the real spiritual world.

    Other side effects from a damaged pineal gland is that you might also feel more isolated and disconnected from the rest of the world, since your main source for spiritual connection towards other people and nature are being severely restricted by calcification caused by fluoride.

    ; it is to be consciously aware that you are accessing different realities. Think of the qualities as Einstein has described them’s an elegance in this room. The elegance of discernment is hCreating higher dimensional zones where duality has been playing out. This is not about changing, controlling or judging but merely being the anchoin a bigger picture sense as well. Ask permission on the inner planes if you are allowed to be shown who they really are, and your mission together from the bigger picture and Greater Reality. This will help to shift a lot of the old patterns and dramas that are no longer appropriate and be in a peaceful loving space with everyone.

    In the Bigger Picture you may feel guided to be at a vortex poin. -t
    -------------
    ANOTHER PLACE, ANOTHER TIME

    fallen angel variants (I.): Sometime ago, in the distant unrecorded past, those whom we call "The Fallen Angels," were exiled to Earth for all eternity. They are prisoners marooned far from their home, with no possibility of return.

    They were at first spiritual beings, ghosts, sparks of life, the "Wandering Clouds," as it were. In time, they learned to insinuate themselves into the most advanced Primates on this planet and, thereby, progressively improved their abilities to become upwardly mobile on the evolutionary scale, eventually culminating in the species as we are now, Homo Sapiens, i.e., modern man.

    Their "Great Work," of course, especially now that the Sun has died, is to get off this planet before the Heliosphere, which functions in the manner of an amniotic sac shielding us from Cosmic Radiation, can no longer withstand the Centripetal Forces prevailing against it and all organic life dies exposing their Naked Spirits to the reality of the fate that awaits them.

    TO YOU WHO ARE STRANDED ON THE ROCK ,
    back in 0h…6 This Great Escape Attempt is a drama that has played out many times over the eons. Each time that the "Fallen Angels" had attained the technological mastery required to embark into the Great Unknown, one catastrophe after another, such as, ice ages, meteor impacts, etc., would obliterate their Life Forms destroying their Hope, and they would have to start the Sisyphean Challenge all over again.

    The evidence that this is so is seen in unexplained, archeological discoveries of highly sophisticated, technological devices, which existed millions of years ago.

    At this very moment, they are frantically working to create a Perfectly Integrated Structure-Function-Relationship Cyborg in which to house them, so to speak, by substituting a Silicon Based quasi-Organism for their Carbon Based perishable bodies which cannot survive beyond the Heliosphere.

    Time has run out for them because God's Captive Son, their Ace in the Hole, the Ransom that they had counted on over the millennia to stave off their inevitable fate, is gone and they know it.

    To expedite their Planet Earth Exodus strategy, before time runs out, desperate measures will be taken, such as garnering and employing every available resource for their personal salvation. This means Forced Euthanasia of the "Dead Wood," that is, the sick, the elderly, the retired, the intelligentsia, and those of diminished capacity, in all of its manifestations.

    Food supplies, including seeds, and energy sources will be hoarded and secreted in inaccessible locations, available only to the élite, while the people starve and freeze. But it's only a delay of the inevitable
    .


    (for all my relations) : sense

    falls through my words which cannot hold

    such inner evidence,

    for I am left with gaps so huge

    that what is unsaid is all -

    and there -Yet speaking for the tongueless,

    I find my voice

    and no longer stutter

    through bleak silences,

    for these voices

    which are not mine

    fly on my wings and I on theirs,

    until here is only

    flight. So are we sent out by other ones,

    massive relatives, in a family so vast

    yet in which each member

    basks.

    So I spake words

    that are not mine or yours

    but theirs,

    and so give nature speech

    in what humble way I can.True or false?

    These voices live in realms

    Where true and false are meaningless,

    and rise up with a fire

    that never finds final form,

    but speaks the spirit

    with a flame

    that forms all worlds,

    and is behind

    the truths we know.

    and so I hint

    of truths beyond life or death

    in which the birthbed and the grave

    dissolve

    in a magik caluculus in which

    each has its place In choosing to BE Love,


    full remembrance is

    Awakening

    Re-calibrating

    Purifying

    Sanctifying

    Unifying

    the Heart Space

    to Love.


    And so our Dream Seeds --
    roots deepening, shoots rising
    bridging Heaven and Earth
    at the Heart of YOU
    as the Eternal NOW --
    are Beloved Peaces
    of the Great Coming Together.

    And so we grow ...

    ======================================
    ======================================

    "Your sacred seed, your spark of life, awaits only the
    cooperation of your totally still heart center. When you
    have extended this cooperation, the sacred seed will
    begin to grow, to fulfill its cosmic pattern as the
    human hull falls away and allows the holy
    metamorphosis to be completed."


    ~ The Door of Everything

    ==============================================
    Wherever you go, darkness can’t touch you. Are you listening to me? It can’t touch you. The essence of your light is the love of God and you are broadcasting it, we are broadcasting it! There’s no dark thing that…..can touch you. She wants you to feel this gravity that pulls you inward to know, to love, to have all that can be given to one so precious, so loved, so eternally worthy as you. Divine Justice operates, just like all mortals are their own judge and jury, needing to forgive themselves and others, as God automatically forgives those who forgive all.

    One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.
    He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.
    “One is evil, which is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.”
    “The other is good, which is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”
    The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”
    The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”

    —————–
    in time / bavarian 11.47pm , see¿ love to you!
    I Channel in order to Know
    I Inspire Healing
    I seal the store of accomplishment
    With the Resonant tone of Attunement
    I am guided by the power of Self-Generation


    Blue Resonata manix kin 7
    love to all
    cosmic night
    [/size]
    avatar
    cosmicnight13

    Posts : 56
    Join date : 2010-05-25
    Location : schweinz

    13 b) / Body Markings

    Post  cosmicnight13 on Wed Jun 13, 2012 5:17 am



    FEARS CREATE NIGHTMARES WHO FEED UNKNOWN -by us- PARTS -
    ….and

    DESTROYING what is causing one's problems, or pushing out of our sight,

    IS NEVER A CREATIVE SOLUTION! - ALTHOUGH THIS IS COMMON.

    Being aware that we are all trapped - more or less - in every aspects of life - is what people feel offended by most-
    one has to go through one's chaos, leaving one's identifications and properties behind, incl. our oh so precious personality … it has to do with 'perception': creating space, so starting with 'zero' becomes possible, every day .... - no joke, lol





    JUPITER on ITS ONCE EVERY 12 YEAR PASSAGE through GEMINI meets Venus (close through the middle of July) , wonder why…maybe to help to harmonize this endless conflict and confusion in our dualistic mind, which sounds like an illogical irrational feat.

    It helps to discriminate between what lines us up with our soul and our gifts and what delivers us to more pain and problems and
    keeps us revisiting the same old shit.
    the Venus transitinG Divine Feminine enerGeeees include instinctual knowing that comes from being in our body and being present to the flow of our emotions i our daily life.

    TheVenus factor is not overly yin and it is not overly yang – it is balanced and light in its expression,

    Double trouble 'puer eternus' (zwilling) breaks down and/or through


    Moment by moment….. proves our power to create our beliefs in present manifestation . In the present, we discern our power and can choose to create consciously. keeping an even keel, will help serve to navigate through these choppy waters of the release of man/woman being groomed since millennia into a patriARCHal template.

    To break this cycle…… and when i'm stuck?– ;

    ... seeing things around me, I look at them, as I look at them, they vibrate, then I vibrate, then more of them comes to me and then I see more. – We say, by making it about the EMOTION rather than about the details. And that's our way of saying
    go General. Go General."


    "Don't let your Grid be about what you're remembering or about what you're observing.

    You've got to let it be about what you WANT because you've got a Vortex FULL of everything you want that will come to you and will come to you fast and will keep coming and keep coming and keep coming. But you've got to figure out how to be more consistent in the Grid that you're offering to birth new realities


    which goes about Self-Love: the well-spring of Kindness, Compassion, Truth, Freedom, Beauty and Appreciation . this means the end of body denounce… : see how you judge the outer world.

    Recognizing our outer reality is simply a projection of our inner state of being
    - our
    ONE VIBRATION - is empowering us to shift our individual consciousness,

    and so we change the world.






    13 / Body Markings

    After a delay of twenty minutes, as irritating as a holdup at a provincial
    frontier post, the elevator moved from the 16th to the 17th floor. Exhausted
    by the long wait, Wilder stepped through the doors into the lobby, looking for
    somewhere to throw away his cartons of pet food.
    Crammed together shoulder to shoulder, the returning cost-accountants and
    television executives held tightly to their briefcases, eyes averted from each
    other as they stared at the graffiti on the walls of the car. The steel roof
    had been removed, and the long shaft rose above their heads, exposed to anyone
    with a missile casually to hand.
    The three passengers who stepped out with Wilder vanished among the barricades
    that lined the dimly lit corridors. When Wilder reached the Hillmans'
    apartment he found that the door was securely bolted. There were no sounds of
    movement from within. Wilder tried without success to force the lock.
    Conceivably the Hillmans had abandoned the apartment and taken shelter with
    friends. Then he heard a faint scraping from the hall. Pressing his head to
    the door, he heard Mrs Hillman remonstrating with herself in a thin voice as she
    pulled a heavy object across the floor.

    After a prolonged tapping and negotiation, during which Wilder was obliged to
    speak to her in her own wheedling tone, he was admitted to the apartment. A
    huge barricade of furniture, units of kitchen equipment, books, clothes and
    table ornaments blocked the hallway, a miniature municipal dump in its own
    right.

    Hillman lay on a mattress in the bedroom. His head was bandaged in a torn
    evening-dress shirt, through which the blood had seeped on to the pillow. He
    raised his head as Wilder came in, his hand searching for a section of balcony
    railing on the floor beside him. Hillman had been one of the first scapegoats
    to be selected and attacked -- his brusque and independent manner made him a
    natural target. During a raid on the next floor he had been hit on the head by
    a television award-winner's statuette as he tried to order his way up a
    defended staircase. Wilder had carried him back to his apartment and spent the
    night looking after him.
    With her husband out of commission, Mrs Hillman depended totally on Wilder, a
    dependence that he himself in a way enjoyed. When Wilder was away she spent
    all her time worrying about him, like an over-anxious mother fretting about a
    wayward child, though as soon as he arrived she forgot who he was.
    She tugged at Wilder's sleeve as he looked down at Hillman. She was more
    concerned about her barricade than her husband and his ominous disturbances of
    vision. Almost everything movable in the apartment, however small, she had
    added to the barricade, at times threatening to entomb them for good. Each
    night Wilder slept through the few hours before dawn slumped in an armchair
    partly embedded in the barricade. He would hear her moving tirelessly around
    him, adding a small piece of furniture she had found somewhere, three books, a
    single gramophone record, her jewellery box. Once Wilder woke to find that she
    had incorporated part of his left leg. Often it would take him half an hour to
    dig his way out of the apartment.
    "What is it?" Wilder asked her irritably. "What are you doing to my arm?" She
    was peering at the bag of dog-food, which Wilder, in the absence of any
    furniture, had been unable to put down. For some reason, he did not want it
    added to the barricade.
    "I've been cleaning up for you," she told him with some pride. "You wanted me
    to, didn't you ?"
    "Of course . . ." Wilder gazed around the apartment in a lordly way. In fact,
    he barely noticed any changes and, if anything, preferred the apartment to be
    dirty.
    "What's this?" She poked excitedly at the carton, jabbing him roguishly in the
    ribs as if she had caught a small son with a secret present for her. "You've
    got a surprise!"
    "Leave it alone." Roughly, Wilder fended her away, almost knocking her off her
    feet. In a way, he enjoyed these absurd rituals. They touched levels of
    intimacy that had never been possible with Helen. The higher up the building
    he moved the more free he felt to play these games.
    Mrs Hillman wrestled a pack of dog-biscuits out of the bag. Her small body was
    surprisingly agile. She gazed at the overweight basset hound on the label.
    Both she and her husband were as thin as scarecrows. Generously, Wilder handed
    her a can of cat-meat. "Soak the biscuits in gin -- I know you've got a bottle hidden
    somewhere. It will do you both good."
    "We'll get a dog!" When Wilder looked irritated by this suggestion she sidled
    up to him teasingly, pressing her hands against his heavy chest. "A dog?

    Please, Dicky . . ."
    Wilder tried to move away from her, but the lewd, wheedling tone and the
    pressure of her fingers on his nipples unsettled him. Their unexpected sexual
    expertise excited a hidden strain in his character. Hillman, the dress shirt
    around his head like a bloody turban, was looking up passively at them, his
    face drained of all colour. With his visual disturbances, Wilder reflected,
    the empty apartment would seem to be filled with embracing replicas of himself
    and Mrs Hillman. He pretended to accost her, out of curiosity running his
    hands over her buttocks, as small as apples, to see how the injured man would
    react. But Hillman gave no flicker of recognition. Wilder stopped stroking Mrs
    Hillman when he saw that she was openly responding to him. It was on other
    levels that he wanted their relationship to develop.
    "Dicky, I know why you came to rescue me . . ." Mrs Hillman followed him
    around the barricade, still holding Wilder's arm. "Will you punish them?"
    This was another of their games. "Rescue" she visualized primarily in terms of
    making "them" -- that is, all the residents in the high-rise below the i7th floor --
    eat humble pie and prostrate themselves in an endless line outside her front
    door.



    "I'll punish them," Wilder reassured her. "All right?"
    They were leaning against the barricade, Mrs Hillman's sharp-chinned face
    against his chest. No more ill-suited couple, Wilder decided, could have been
    cast to play mock-mother and mock-son. Nodding eagerly at the prospect of
    revenge, Mrs Hillman reached into the barricade and pulled at a black metal pipe. As it emerged, Wilder saw that it was the barrel of a shotgun.
    Surprised, Wilder took the weapon from her hands. She was smiling
    encouragingly, as if expecting Wilder to go out into the corridor at that very
    moment and shoot someone dead. He broke the breech. Two live shells were in
    place under the hammers.
    Wilder moved the weapon out of Mrs Hillman's reach. He realized that this was
    probably only one of hundreds of similar firearms in the high-rise -- sporting
    rifles, military service souvenirs, handbag pistols. But no one had fired a
    single shot, despite the epidemic of violence.
    Wilder knew perfectly well why. He himself would never bring himself to fire
    this shotgun, even at the point of death. There was an unspoken agreement
    among the residents of the high-rise that their confrontation would be
    resolved by physical means alone.
    He jammed the shotgun back into the barricade and pushed Mrs Hillman in the
    chest. "Go away, rescue yourself . . ."

    As she protested, half-playfully, half in earnest, he began to throw the
    dog-biscuits at her, scattering them around the bare floor. Wilder enjoyed
    abusing her. Deriding her in front of her supine husband, he withheld the food
    from her until she broke down and retreated to the kitchen. The evening
    progressed happily. Wilder became more and more oafish as the darkness settled
    over the high-rise, deliberately coarsening himself like a delinquent youth
    fooling about with a besotted headmistress.
    Until two o'clock that morning, during a night intermittently disrupted by
    outbreaks of violence, Wilder remained within the Hillmans' apartment on the
    17th floor. The marked decline in the number of incidents disturbed Wilder --
    for his ascent of the building he relied on being able to offer himself as an
    aggressive street-fighter to one or another of the warring groups. However,
    the open tribal conflicts of the previous week had now clearly ceased. With
    the breakdown of the clan structure, the formal boundary and armistice lines
    had dissolved, giving way to a series of small enclaves, a cluster of three or
    four isolated apartments. These were far more difficult to penetrate and
    exploit.

    Sitting in the darkness on the floor of the sitting-room with Mrs Hillman,
    their backs to opposite walls, they listened to the muted noises around them.
    The residents of the high-rise were like creatures in a darkened zoo lying
    together in surly quiet, now and then tearing at each other in brief acts of
    ferocious violence.
    The Hillmans' immediate neighbours, an insurance broker and his wife, two
    account executives and a pharmacologist, were listless and unorganized. Wilder
    had visited them several times, but found that appeals to self-advantage no
    longer roused them. In fact, only the most blatant expressions of irrational
    hostility could galvanize their glazed minds. Wilder's feigned and unfeigned
    rages, his fantasies of revenge roused them briefly from their state of torpor.

    This regrouping around more radical and aggressive leaders was taking place
    all over the high-rise. In the hours after midnight torches flared behind the
    barricades in the lobbies and corridors, where enclaves of five or six
    residents squatted among the plastic garbage sacks, inciting each other like
    wedding guests making themselves drunk in the knowledge that they too will
    soon be copulating freely among the sweetmeats.

    At two o'clock Wilder left the Hillmans' apartment and set about stirring up
    his neighbours. The men crouched together, clubs and spears in hand,
    hip-flasks of whisky pooled at their feet. The torch-beams illuminated the
    garbage-sacks piled high around them, a visible museum of their leavings.
    Wilder sat in the centre of the group, outlining his plans for another
    foraging expedition to the floors above. Although they had eaten little for
    days, his neighbours were reluctant to take part, fearful of the power of the
    residents above them. Skilfully, Wilder played on their fantasies. Once again,
    as his imaginary scapegoat, he selected the psychiatrist Adrian
    Talbot, whom he now accused of molesting a child in a swimming-pool changing
    cubicle. The untruth of the accusation, which they all well knew, only served
    to reinforce it. However, before they would move they insisted that Wilder
    invent an even more lurid crime, as if the imaginary nature of Talbot's sexual
    offences held the essence of their appeal. By the logic of the high-rise those
    most innocent of any offence became the most guilty.



    Shortly before dawn Wilder found himself in an empty apartment on the 26th
    floor. Once occupied by a woman and her small son, the apartment had recently
    been abandoned, and no attempt had been made to padlock the door from the
    outside. Tired after the night's rampage, Wilder wasted no time in breaking
    down the door. He had side-stepped his raiding party, leaving them to break up
    Talbot's apartment for the tenth time. During these last minutes of darkness
    he would settle himself into an empty apartment, and sleep through the long
    hours of daylight in time to resume his ascent of the high-rise at dusk.

    Wilder moved around the three rooms, satisfying himself that no one was hiding
    in the kitchen or bathroom. He wandered about in the darkness, kicking open
    the cupboards and knocking any books or ornaments to the floor. Before
    leaving, the owner had made a half-hearted attempt to tidy the apartment,
    packing away the child's toys in a bedroom wardrobe. The sight of the freshly
    swept floors and neatly furled curtains unsettled Wilder. He pulled the
    drawers on to the floor, heaved the mattresses off the beds, and urinated into
    the bath. His burly figure, trousers open to expose his heavy genitalia,
    glared at him from the mirrors in the bedroom. He was about to break the
    glass, but the sight of his penis calmed him, a white club hanging in the
    darkness. He would have liked to dress it in some way, perhaps with a
    hair-ribbon tied in a floral bow.

    Now that he was alone Wilder felt confident of his progress. His hunger was
    overlaid by his feelings of triumph at having climbed more than half-way up
    the high-rise. From the windows the ground below was barely visible, part of a
    world he had left behind. Somewhere above him, Anthony Royal was strutting
    about with his white alsatian, unaware that he would soon be in for a
    surprise.
    At dawn the owner of the apartment reappeared, and blundered into the kitchen
    where Wilder was resting. By now he had relaxed and was sitting comfortably on
    the floor with his back against the cooker, the remains of a meal scattered
    around him. He had found the few cans of food, along with two bottles of red
    wine, in their invariable hiding place, under the floorboards in the bedroom
    wardrobe. As he broke open the cans he played with a battery-powered
    tape-recorder which had been mixed up with the child's toys. He recorded his
    grunts and belches, playing them back to himself. Wilder was amused by the
    deft way in which he edited the tape, overlaying one set of belches with a
    second and third, a skill that now resided entirely in his scarred fingers
    with their cracked and blackened nails.
    The bottles of claret had made him pleasantly drowsy. Smearing the red wine
    across his broad chest, he gazed up amiably at the startled woman who stumbled
    into the kitchen and tripped across his legs
    .
    As she stared down at him, one hand nervously to her throat, Wilder remembered
    that she had once been called Charlotte Melville. The name had now detached
    itself from her, like an athlete's tie-on numeral blown away in a gust of
    wind. He knew that he had often been in this apartment, and this explained the
    vague familiarity of the child's toys and the furniture, although the chairs
    and sofa had been rearranged to conceal various hiding places.

    "Wilder . . . ?" As if uncertain about the name, Charlotte Melville pronounced
    it softly.
    She had been sheltering during the night with her son in the apartment of the
    statistician three floors above with whom she had become friendly. At the
    first light, when everything had settled down, she had come back intending to
    collect the last of her food reserves before abandoning the apartment for
    good. Swiftly composing herself, she looked down critically at the burly man
    with the exposed loins lying like a savage among her wine bottles, his chest
    painted with red stripes.
    She felt no sense of loss or outrage, but a fatalistic acceptance of the
    damage he had casually inflicted on her apartment, like the strong odour of
    his urine in the bathroom.
    He appeared to be half asleep, and she stepped slowly towards the door. Wilder
    reached out with one hand and held her ankle. He smiled up at her blearily.
    Climbing to his feet, he circled around her, the tape-recorder raised in one
    hand as if about to hit her with it. Instead he switched it on and off,
    playing for her his selection of belches and grunts, obviously pleased with
    this demonstration of his unexpected expertise. He steered her slowly around
    the apartment as she backed from one room to the next, listening to his edited
    mutterings.
    The first time he struck her, cuffing her to the bedroom floor, he tried to
    record her gasp, but the reel had jammed. He freed it carefully, bent down and
    slapped her again, only stopping when he had recorded her now deliberate cries
    to his satisfaction. He enjoyed terrorizing her, taping down her exaggerated
    but nonetheless frightened gasps. During their clumsy sexual act on the
    mattress in the child's bedroom he left the tape-recorder switched on beside
    them on the floor and played back the sounds of this brief rape, editing
    together the noise of her tearing clothes and panting anger.
    Later, bored with the woman and these games with the tape-recorder, he hurled
    the machine into the corner. The sound of himself speaking, however coarsely,
    introduced a discordant element.

    He resented speaking to Charlotte or to anyone else, as if words introduced
    the wrong set of meanings into everything.

    After she dressed they had breakfast together on the balcony, sitting at the
    table with an incongruous old-world formality. Charlotte ate the scraps of
    canned meat she found on the kitchen floor. Wilder finished the last of the
    claret, re-marking the red stripes across his chest. The rising sunlight warmed
    his exposed loins, and he felt like a contented husband sitting with his wife in a villa high on a mountainside. Naively, he wanted to explain to Charlotte his ascent of the apartment building, and shyly pointed to the roof. But she failed to get the
    point. She fastened her torn clothes around her strong body. Although her
    mouth and throat were bruised, she seemed unconcerned, watching Wilder with a
    passive expression.

    From the balcony Wilder could see the roof of the high-rise, little more than
    a dozen floors above him. The intoxication of living at this height was as
    palpable as anything produced by the wine bottle in his hand. Already he could
    see the line of huge birds perched on the balustrades, no doubt waiting for
    him to arrive and take command.

    Below, on the 20th floor, a man was cooking over a fire on his balcony,
    breaking up a coffee table and feeding the legs to the clutch of smouldering
    sticks on which a soup can was balanced.
    A police car approached the perimeter entrance. A few residents were leaving
    for work at this early hour, neatly dressed in suits and raincoats, briefcases
    in hand. The abandoned cars in the access roads prevented the police from
    reaching the main entrance to the building, and the officers stepped out and
    spoke to the passing residents. Usually none of them would have replied to an
    outsider, but now they gathered in a group around the two policemen. Wilder
    wondered if they were going to give the game away, but although he could not
    hear them, he was certain that he knew what they were saying. Clearly they
    were pacifying the policemen, reassuring them that everything was in order,
    despite the garbage and broken bottles scattered around the building.
    Deciding to test the defences of the apartment before he went to sleep, Wilder
    stepped into the corridor. He stood outside the doorway, as the stale air
    moved past him to the open balcony. He relished the rich smells of the
    high-rise. Like their garbage, the excrement of the residents higher up the
    building had a markedly different odour.

    Returning to the balcony, he watched the police drive away in their car. Of
    the twenty or so residents who still left for work each morning, three had
    turned back, evidently unsettled by the task of convincing the police that all
    was well. Without looking up, they scurried back to the entrance lobby.
    Wilder knew that they would never leave again. The separation of the high-rise
    from the world around it was now almost complete, and would probably coincide
    with his own arrival at the summit. Soothed by this image, he sat down on the
    floor and leaned against Charlotte Melville's shoulder, falling asleep as she
    stroked the wine-coloured stripes on his chest and shoulders
    .

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      Current date/time is Wed Oct 18, 2017 9:59 pm