[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

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! ”




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,.……

[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




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.……

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.

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)"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. Ά†\Î in lake'ch kin143

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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








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...?.
.. [youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=MJl8_O4pGhA[/youtube] .
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.

[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.
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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.

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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.

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
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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

Bring 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.

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.

….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

4 snake kin 225







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

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)







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.

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:

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.

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'.


MUS•TARD•SEEDS 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

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



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.