Gorgeous Skulls
Lightning is the Voice
When you're dead you're gone if you never developed any awareness.
It is the primordial home who calls you, the surrender of identity, the place where you dissolve into nothingness, Prima Materia.
We are taught to be terrified of this loneliness. The religions that pretend to know have no word for it, the unconscious potential, the nothingness that opens below you when you dance into it, and disappear.
Perhaps you have been there, a place where nothing exists. Not a ghost, not a shade, not the dark, nor the light. Did you fall, so effortlessly?
Yes.
Its a lullaby, its a song, it captures you all day long, so when the blackness comes its almost welcome, no more striving, working, goals or identity.
Is it death, or nonexistence?
If you fall into it, the Kenoma, the endless nothing you will not know, you cannot know it, but you will understand when it is said that it is everywhere and nowhere, that it supports everything, yawning invisibly, whispering, waiting, patient.
Kenoma, said the ancient Gnostics, is the mystery of oblivion, and it is very real in an odd sense, a juxtaposition to the loud bangs, running motors and bombs of the collective God Mechanical living world.
What is it, what could it be that mysteriously collects itself and emerges from this limitless sea?
Awareness.
What is awareness?
Awareness…
Is it you imagination?
I suppose one would call it a dream, or a vision. When one is truly in the Otherworld, it is but it isn't like this one. There are all kinds of degrees, all sorts of levels to this immersion. Sometimes it can be akin to memory, somewhat washed out, as if the incident happened so long ago to be foggy. Other times you will leave this place entirely, like True Thomas no one will find you physically.
Otherworld journey.
I visit often in such states with the pure ones, despised by christians to the point of being utterly exterminated by them. The Cathari. The Gnostics.
It is largely ignored history, the Albigensian Crusade.
Bo Yin Ra, among others, wrote of the ascended masters who guide mankind. The temptation in the material west is to assign this status to non western people. It has become, as they say a convention. Part of the reason for the current drive in the western world to end the culture, the genetics, the soul of the European lies in this convention. It is a belief and a deceit brought on by the duplicitous power games of the abrahamics, those who depopulated Libya, held Vienna under siege with their indoctrinated against their own brothers and sisters, and they who pursued their Albigensian Crusade to its grisly conclusion.
All the same.
One can follow a certain kind of understanding. One can discover great purposes and teachings that are fully formed. The understanding follows unbidden associations and currents of discovery that are profound and moving.
The abrahamics exist to sever them. It is a fascination with the material that motivates them, a weapons technology to fuse the division into the very awareness of the human. The drive to become the simplest expression.
Thus flows the current now below those who dream of phones, who fashion computing into slavery to a condition, and who derive all identity from the polarity of politics, the community of injections, where you aren't anybody if don't have money.
The current runs deep and it is very old, light as a feather, the dreams…that sings of reality that no one realizes exists.
They stood in the great room of the fortress, draiped in cloaks, a peace was upon them. I was there from future, allowed to witness the conference. No one acknowledged my presence, yet I understood this what I was being invited to observe, if I had the focus.
Three cloaked figures before the seated gentry, neither imposing or commanding yet they absorbed my entire attention. Everything faded as I felt such a longing kinship, their words were about a request for assistance.
In the very air a knowledge of death hung like a presence. The three cloaked men knew they were not long for the world of the physical.
The question came from the gentry whether they would seek some form of asylum. An escape from the abrahamic vengeance that sought their annihilation.
Three men in cloaks replied they were returning to the land and their people. They would meet their end within the arms of the place that embraced them.
I returned to myself in shock and rage, the tears stung as I realized I had been invited to the close of the Cathari, who were to be erased from all, even genetic history. In that moment I saw the calm acceptance of an end that could not be averted, and a realization that reality extends far beyond the material.
The pencil on paper image that accompanies this piece is my rendition of the vision that followed. I was seeking in a very human sense that connection, perhaps even an explanation of why I was invited to that meeting. Familiar Owl to reach beyond the veil, we met him with a peaceful mustacheoed face, and he breathed out in a voice that flashed lightning, before his face like a mask peeled away from the bone, beautiful skull gleaming.
Beautiful Skulls.
A note to the reader regarding the link to the Albigensian Crusade.
It is about as good as it gets, in terms of a synopsis, which is to say it sucks. However, I've never found anything better. If you do decide to read it, be certain to understand it is an error ridden synopsis.
The Cathari were the last of the Gnostics.
Their bones now fill the sample drawers in universities.
They were exterminated completely.
So, why did I include it?
Because as a piece it provides a one stop shop for location, duration, and prosecution of the crusade, and ties it in with the destruction of Constantinople, which gives a far more insightful image regarding christianity than most.
Just don't take it much farther.
Definitely don't assume the synopsis is in any way a guide to the Cathari.
He probably doesn't even know that the Cathari made pictographs in caves. But that is a story we must save for another day.
Hi Mike! What you wrote here made me remember a crazy dream I had tonight. You know Jack Heart endorsed RFK Jr before, a long time before anyone else, but when some Rabbis endorsed RFK Jr probably giving him some teaching lessons on what to say, do and think regarding Israel before being allowed to enter the stage of the elders in world politics, kind of like in church where there usually are no women unless they are serving buns and juice practicing bun-diplomacy for the males sitting there, I did like Jack did and subscribed to RFK Jr Substack. I read something about stranded whales, and also watched a Twitter-video where a famous boxer and RFK jr was allowed to talk about why he/they do not trust that the vaccines against Covid 19 will do you any good. The reasons were darned good! Sill mainstream media hangs him in public. Had they at least only listened to that interview. They are brainwashed. When Jack Heart expressed his concerns for the "new" cloned RFK Jr I unsubscribed. There are too many clones, for instance the famous artist that his cousin Mike Williams has revealed also is one. I suppose only the ones closest to them will know the difference, for instance Ringo Starr? Even Hilary Clinton has passed away, as Jack Heart and several others have pointed out, and should not her husband see the difference, but they are "divorced", separated, which explaines why they sat so far away from each other on stage in Aretha Franklin's funeral. One even have stand-ins for Joe Biden and Putin. The latter admitted, sort of joking, that he himself had five. So, to my point. When RFK Jr joins Trump who just like any other American president blesses what Gordon Duff calls a mafia state, Israel, as if that country was Mary's little lamb whom the three wise men brought gifts to, I for that reason pushed the "like-button" to a post where a "Saxxon" at Substack portrayed RFK jr with horns. "Jo mere vi er sammen det gladere vi blir, for dine venner er mine venner og mine venner er dine venner..."; The more we are together the happier we become, because your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends - lyrics fetched from a Norwegian song. Your post reminded me about a crazy dream I had tonight. I was in a foreign place to me, a living-room in a house I have never been in in real life. I can't remember if I was asked to go out or if I expressed that I wanted to go out and eat something, somewhere, but I wanted to. I looked at RFK Jr who was in that room too, and I asked him if we could; if I could go with him somewhere and buy something to eat, it was late in the evening and I was tired and hungry. I said: "I can pay for it myself, you do not have to pay." I looked into the pocket of my blouse and saw that I had about 600 kroners there. I said: "You may probably not want to be seen with me." I was thinking about my own looks, my clothes, my everything, my appearance which is not that of an American star or model, of "his kind". I could not fit into his environment, he would be ashamed of having me around him, but I was still hungry :) - and then, to my surprised, I walked toward him and wanted him to embrace me. He put his arms around my body and I put my arms around his, and we stood there for a short while and it felt good. I felt comforted; a warm feeling. Then he was gone sort of because another man, a younger one with dark hair stood there and he was going to take me out, I think. I felt a bit confused. I had never seen any of them in real life before. I was wondering why I dreamed that dream when I click on "horn-RFK jr-pictures. Well, sorry that I wrote about all of these things to you. I enjoyed your music videoes. I am glad we have no dangerous spiders in Norway. USA is a terrible country when it comes to poisonous spiders. Your last video made me laugh. "Uncle Sam"? I don't know if there is still Khatari-DNA in this word, but are they "natural spiritual men and women" born with supernatural abilities? Your drawing was very good, as usual. Did you study that at school, how to draw?