Facing Death - Eden Saga

“I have had many times the opportunity to live and make others live this kind miracle: looking eternity in the face” I wrote recently. Every time I look in a mirror or a shop window, I stare at my eyes for a few moments, and death faces me. She’s coming towards me, the bitch!since I’m a male, my death is a female, yessir! (I dunno about fags)

All Mortals

Doesn’t she have criminals and politicianspleonasm to look after rather than a poor awakener? Does she want to put this awakener to sleep? Otherwise, why persist with him like this? Oh I know well, we are all mortal. Sooner or later, la camarde comes to take us under her bone arm. Personally, no hurry. As far as I am concern, the later will be the best.

Certainly, from the smallest to the largest, we are all mortal. One must find a reason. Yes, everything that lives will die, even our creator, yes, even the Goddess. No matter how long she has lived, she is not eternal. No one alive is.

Throughout her life, as a good reptilian, the goddess crosses cycles of four ages, gold, silver, bronze and the Iron Age where we are. Each of these cycles lasts 64,000 years. For her, it’s like a year for us. She has already lived so many cycles that her age is incalculable. Imagine: she was already there, adult, when she created this world. Under her orders, other goddesses, reptilian like her, have arranged this wild planet. They administered it with wisdom and kindness during a series of cycles. The period of the Matriarchs lasted billions of years…

Feedback

Matriarchs or not, many of them are dead. The Great Goddess Ana or Ama, she too, will experience the great departure. Does she know where she will go next? No more than us, I’m afraid. One thing I am sure of: she will also go through the pangs of death that lurks, she will see her come towards her, in the depths of her green eyes, while she is doing her morning toilette in front of her mirror.

We can talk to the dead, if we’ve known them before. I have meetings with several deceased. Loulou, my mother. Devic, my best friend, a friendship that lasted sixty years. Flornoy, my benefactor, who revived my buried awakening since adolescence. And a few others… The dead are not alive, so they will not know death. This world is no longer theirs, but they remember it and from time to time, they return. That’s what we call them, by the way: ghosts. Or feedback.

But the Goddess cannot return from death, she is still alive. She is sleeping. For now, while we are living the Kali Yuga, the Goddess Ana is resting: 4000 years of dormancy. He still has four centuries of restorative sleep before the return of the golden age, in a brand new cycle of 64,000 years. But one day she will die. Death is the universal law of life.

And at the end of dormancy as she is, her sleep is deep. Almost as deep as the realm of the dead.

Hades

Everything is alive in the multiverse, even the dead. They have their own world. The ancients believed that the world of the dead is under our feet, in the depths of the terrestrial globe. Domain of the god Hades, Greek copy of the god of the dead among the ancient Celts: Toutatis. Toth Hades. Teutatès.

Toutatis is not a god, but an entire people. Teuth, all or everything means the people. We find this very ancient root in the French word tout. As I have written a thousand times, the French language is sacred memory, the secret mirror of the mysteries of our origins.

There are three languages that play this eminent role, and only three: Sanskrit, Hebrew, and French. But we are in the Kali Yuga, the very dark period when the thick darkness descended on the world. Only one of these three languages is still alive, ours, French. And for how long? Everything is deteriorating, and more and more quickly: another sign of the times.

Eternal? Come On!

The Eternal is a angry god, a jealous god. For the fire of my wrath is kindled, and it shall burn to the heart of Sheol; and it shall devour the earth with its increase, and it shall set on fire the foundations of the mountains (Exodus 24-17).

A god who frightens, for one never knows if he has risen from the right foot or from the wrong. And all the Jews fear him, even his priests. The glory of the Lord was like a consuming fire on the top of the mountain, in the eyes of the children of Israel. (Psalm 21-9)

It seems that this god is so overbearing that he can punish with death the slightest affront to little humans. They bow down before him, they adore him without ceasing, and they do well: the slightest deviation is punished by death. There is no judgment, no sentence is pronounced, the only thing that comes out of HisBlock letter is to imitate believing Jews mouth is a devouring fire and crack! No one anymore. Isn’t my word like fire, says the Lord. And like a hammer that breaks the rock? (Jeremiah 23-29)

Fortunately

Several Greek, Mesopotamian, Celtic, or Viking legends tell how humans could go to this kingdom of the dead. The divine Orpheus descended there to find Eurydice, the love of his life, too soon snatched from his affection. Gilgamesh went there to obtain the secret of immortality. As he saw the gods before living very long while remaining so young, he had told himself that the gods were immortal and wanted to obtain their secret, the recipe.

It was seeing these same gods enjoy such longevity that Moses believed his god, a loathsome anthropophagous dragon, to be eternal. Fortunately, he was mistaken! Fortunately, the Jews do not read the Bible because they still worship this monster. Fortunately, he is dead!

All it takes is one bad reasoning for the stupid religious beliefs of Kali Yuga to take shape. And since their silly invention, lots of public abusers have conveyed them, embellished, ritualized. And taking advantage of human stupidity, these pompous crooks gradually transformed them into tools for dumbing down and controlling the masses. All this in the service of the only god whose existence is noted, the Archon Mammon, god of money, money, peze and money. His worship is everywhere, his followers are countless.

Oh Lord have mercy! Free us from all of the religions!
Guy Bedos

The real mystery of religion: there are people to practice it.
José Artur

Religions have existed since the first hypocrite has met the first fool.
Voltaire

Ends of the World

This fourth and last yuga will end in a cataclysm. Of what nature? The Bible talks about it, not without humor. There will be the destruction by fire of the sky that awakens the depths, and when all the volcanoes together spit their relentless lava, the fire catches on the ground, in pastures, houses, huts, farms, crops, temples, churches, mosques, synagogues, to the gogues and magogues, everywhere it burns and the fire elves are at the party. They are indeed the only ones.

But before, there was destruction by water. The terrible, unstoppable, irresistible flood when the sea level rises to the summit of the highest mountains, sparing only the highest peaks. Everything is destroyed, everyone goes through it, animals included. Only subsite the kingdom of the dead, well sheltered from the earth center. They stay dry, but they don’t care, they are dead, they can be reborn maybe, but certainly not reborn.

The Bible does not mention it, but one can still imagine the destruction by the air element. The winds blow in storm from the four horizons, they come out of all the wells, pits, holes, faults, cracks of the earth’s crust, they swirl on the seas as in deserts, withdrawing megatons of dust that kill by obstruction of the lungs and pores all people, animals, animalcules, plants and seedlings. Hence the eloquent expression: It’s the end of beans.

Air can also kill if it is too polluted. Ask the Chinese for the ordeal imposed on them, the diseases, the numerous deaths that follow, and which will only increase. They are so numerous, it doesn’t matter, estimate the public authorities. Ah yes, I was forgetting this one: the total destruction by human madness. We’re going to.

Industrial China.

Live Empty

There are possible destructions! But before the arrival of a new golden age, it will be necessary to rebuild. I doubt that the horrors and reconstruction efforts are part of the golden age, it would rather be the age of the loo.

As for me, I just got out of taking some. And it continues. Reconstruction is my lot, and I work like a piggy Peggy Sue, dear Eugene!(*) From early in the morning until late at night, I work like a slave, forced by misery and sorrow.

In a mirror, I can only see my old eyes, ravaged by years. Inside, nothing but the depth of the emptiness that I maintain in my brain. Vertiginous, the emptiness. Like my pockets… And I’m not talking about the ones I have in front of me, my father had the same ones and her mother also showed those funny things that scared me little child.

<< (*) Eugène Sue (1804-1857) French writer mainly known for two of his serialized novels with a social character: The Mysteries of Paris and The Wandering Jew.

Do I resemble my father?

Terror: he died senile …
Happiness: he died at 96! Twenty more years …

Evil Eye

Life is worse than dying. The slow but certain death, a female who lingers along the way to make herself desired. Such a bitch!
Sower of horror, death is a living goddess, she judges and condemns, her verdict is without appeal.

Whether or not we submit
No one escapes death.
This morning at dawn,
Coming out of a golden dream
Let the alarm clock erase,
A mirror is facing me.
The left eye is harmless
but the right makes sorrow.
What did he see in my dreams?
Is he a caster of spells?
Should the sponge be passed
or curse me again?
He wanted to talk
I am the eye of vision
of tension, of intention
By my zealous decrees
I punish the passions

My right eye thinks it’s Kali Ma Shakti Dev’! Having this devil eye that punishes despite me puts me in a state. No one can heal for free. You have to pay for everything, non-stop, disburse every last penny. Who can heal my eye? I only have one penny that I save to eat. When I am treated, it is by the eye. With these absurd considerations, my alarm rang. I was delighted.

I got up with a leap — it’s an image, an expression — to stare into my eyes. Still poached, otherwise niet. Nothing. No more death coming than butter at the rollsee below! What a pleasant joke! I am healed of this morbid urge that made me yech for days, weeks! Hence the bitterness of several texts. Unlike at the wheel, we are not made of wood.

The roll, la roulante, was a mobile military kitchen also serving as an infirmary.
Hence the well-known expression of the 14-18’s soldiers:
“There is no butter on the roll!“

Hurry up, picnic on the grass, as one day the grass will picnic on you.
Jacques Prévert