Keep on digging. Keep on digging deeper and deep. Dig for the Hollow Earth. To celebrate the underground ice age. Mole Men we were then. At the bottom of the lakes, in the hollow of the abyssal pits frolic the silver surfers, giant submariners double our size and four times stronger. Have you lived in the body of one of these guys? Dig down and deep. Dig deeper. Not just any one! The only subject that matters: YOU.
Attention! No ego in there. No glorification of your wonderful person. Just be grateful to be alive, to be who you are. Grateful for the other you are going to become. To whom is this recognition? No idea. What matters is to thank. Everything else, mental guesses. Misplaced ego. What does it matter? You receive without knowing why, you thank without knowing who. Sincerely. All that matters, sincerity.
Silver surfers have been observed in Siberian lakes, as one thought to see a dinosaur in a loch of Scotland. Except that these giant lakes went after Russian divers. Several deaths to mourn. See the story.
We once saw the giants of Bamiyan, Afghanistan — before they were destroyed by the hatred of ignorance. For off-topic beliefs. These statues were not Buddhas. The first was over 50 meters tall. It represented the first humanity, the race of the Cyclops. The 4th measured 4 meters. It was the size of the gods before, Olympian Titans or Atlanteans, powerful masters of the fourth humanity.
Some of them — like Zeus, the god of the gods — have reproduced with humans. While some goddesses have copulated with humans. Snakes with humans. It earned us the race of demigods, the Greek Heroes, the Biblical Patriarchs. Those I call the Perfect or the Luminous.
Are these silver surfers their heirs? I cannot say. But I can write it down! The proof: I just did.
Regardless of where they come from, these water giants don’t like us. They really want to be left alone. Okay, that’s noted. All in all, they are imperfect. You know what? I do sense Archons…
Digging is deepening. The opposite of digging your brains out. Coming down inside you. Penetrating your deep body. Strengthening direct links with your flesh, your blood, your nervous impulses, your most minimal feelings will become signals that you cannot ignore. Gradually, you will become familiar with this wonderful machine of flesh and bone.
I’m not talking about biology. Can a discipline that denies itself from decade to decade have the name of science? By no means. This denial applies, alas, to all human sciences, which are only inhuman instead of superhuman.
Like father, like son. One cannot study the son by ignoring his father. One cannot study the human by ignoring the divine. He is in us, as the father’s genes are found in his son. Seek and you will find. In your flesh is lurking the Spirit.
Creature that you are, animated matter, you shelter in you the Spirit, the eternity. It is He who makes you invincible. Without him you are only a artifice. As vain as the false intelligence that roars like a donkey: I-A! I-A! Intelligence informs with tics. Fruit of the archontinental trap in Silly-Conne Valley.
If the icon was worth… But is it worth one kopeck? Not for me, thank you! I leave it to the Archons.
Dig in you, you will discover wonders. A knowledge of your body that he will want to teach you. The daily magic of your inner healer, a billion times more effective than any pharmacopoeia. Rigged, the caduceus! Run away from doctors. Unhealthy hospitals. Sound the tocsin. Throw out the vaccines.
I don’t give a shit about all this shit poisoning us for the sole benefit of the big, collaborative labs. Each of us carries within him what to cure his diseases.and those of others Of what to prevent them before they are encrusted. Everyone carries within himself a whole world, the one from which we come. Each world is unlike any other. To revolt against oneself is to deny one’s inner world.
Billions of the living, your former companions, are condemned by your revolt. Without mercy, one by one, you pass them over the sword. Remember yourself, this other world that you have only left for a few moments. Your real world where you will return your life made, your death accomplished.
Live or change, both are brothers. Nothing is ever forgotten and yet! Nothing will remain of that moment when I see the letters magically appear on the screen. Magic, you will read them and magic, you will understand them. It’s not your brain. Only what you were, what you’re coming back to. Use the information in your aura. Your soul is your memory. Cherish her.
Revolt, do a flip, then redo it. Revolt as revolution make a turn on yourself. One turn, followed by another. So that everything always starts again. When you dig to sink, you climb to the surface of your forgotten being. He stands upside down in the universe of you. Hanged by the ankle, the world is foreign.
Past the river, you continue your journey. You run after your doubts. Why be reborn? Aren’t you tired of dying that you need other lives to live other deaths? How many more times do you want to die? The infernal round of your inner lives turns you grey and consumes you. Frost covers the earth. Spreads out smoking manure. In the flesh of the earth a spring is conceived. Fetus or vagabond? What does it matter? It will grow.
We have to dig deeper. You haven’t reached the energy yet. Look at the colors. Yellow, orange. Did you pass the green? Do you see purple? You have to go down. Dig.
Cumbersome memories block you. Dry tears keep you from walking. Dried blood on the blade. What infamous crime? It is only your child who dies. The little one you were is no more. It is terrible to say to oneself. It is worse to accept it.
When you feel desperation, when you’ve come down the stairs from below, you can’t go deeper. The cement of the ground under your feet, take a pick, an ice axe. Take a jackhammer. Dynamite me that. Fart. With your bare hands if necessary, dig like a madman. Braving death, you must go down again. The bottom of the pool hides a secret tunnel that goes down, vertical. A double bottom vital. And that’s where the abundant tides of your lives spread out. That’s where the energy is. Draw. Drink. Inspire again.
See and drink. Everything is there. All that is yours.
The secrets that are not, the memories that are no longer, the people known, the books read, the mess where your life put you, your friends, your friend, dig! A tunnel known only to you, a floor without a roof, digs. Your past you will find. Will you love it? The cry that kills. The lost time that strives to disorient you. And the Archons to haunt you. Will you know who you are? Who to kill? Leave?
Each nanosecond encloses a multiverse. Each note of a song as of a symphony is a supercluster of dream operas.
Greatness, what is missing. The passing moment endures forever. The space-time traveler can land at the heart of any moment past, present and future. How to travel in space-time? Four steps in the astral will tell you more than a long speech. Come to me, I teach it.
Until your visit I wish next, if you want to know more, ask the Archons, it’s their specialty. Cultivate your own greatness, not as a King or Macron, rather as the giant you once were. Let him be your model in all things. May the greatness of his actions be the yardstick against which to measure yours.
Great in everything, except by the ego. Whip in hand, you hold it in respect away from the heart. Armed with the sole intention, you have no need of the ego. Humility makes better use. It keeps us long. So keep it.
The astral is infinite. Very accessible too. It is free. To go, no other energy than yours. Unlimited and free. Word. Come on vacation, I am there every night. You will have the pleasure of living the astral conscious. But be careful, the danger is lurking!
Who can taste astral travel is bored on earth. He needs the infinite greatness, the vertigo, the incredible energy that we receive there. Where? It’s here. For the astral is everywhere, all around, and in you. Just push the saloon door. As the song says: “At the saloon no bellboy at the door, it is with the foot that one pushes the flap”. So enter. You are welcome.
In fact, you already know. Without remembering maybe, you go every night, like each of us. This is one phase of the sleep cycle, when the brain emits alpha waves. This phase is called REM sleep. It’s conducive to dreams. There are five phases of REM sleep per sleep cycle and four or five cycles per night. So between 20 and 25 phases full of dreams. Knowing that a dream, even if it seemed long, is instantaneous. We have thousands of dreams every night.
And at best, we remember a few. Some people don’t remember. I hear them say they don’t dream. Wrong. They dream as much as the others but these dreams remain buried in the unconscious.
They are not lost, but hidden. Our consciousness cannot use them to guide our conduct. Moreover, even when we remember, are our dreams useful for something? They are often scrambled from the moment we wake up. We find them absurd, incoherent, surreal or stupid.
I believed that this jamming was a brain mechanism, a program to mitigate the potential shocks that could give us memories of too raw dreams, too violent nightmares. If so, the brain would also blur the violent images of waking life. In an attack, instead of blood, we would see flowers that would turn into butterflies.
So the brain has nothing to do with it. In this case, who is clouding our memory? Damn, but of course! The head-eaters! This is their specialty. And in astral, they are at home.
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