As a teenager, I ran everywhere. I had an opinion on everything, I looked at everything, I understood everything, I knew nothing. By opening myself up, I almost squandered my gifts. From Pakistan, a sage stopped me. You give a lot, you give badly. Learn to give the flower, not the plant.”
I must confess, I had a giving heart. The right place for the heart is not on your hand,in French “avoir le coeur sur la main” means “to be too generous” but in your chest. That is not the right place. I was one of those people that the great JacquesBrel sang, I would have given my shirt for happy poor people. With this good old lady Larousse,a famous drawing on back a famous dictionary I was sowing in all winds. Only the dandelion is just bad seed. The August gesture of the sower? Petaineist propaganda. It is not the peasant who sows, it is the agricultural worker dealing his vouchers from the Semeuse.
When you love yourself, you don’t count. When you sow, do you risk throwing your heart with the grain handle? The right place for the heart is not on the hand, but in the chest.
When it is on the surgeon’s hand, the heart stops beating. If you want to keep a beating heart in your chest, do not put it on your hand. Keep the plant in your heart, a heart in its place, a good pump that gives a regular pulse, not a talisman that ticks-tacatac and beats the chamade.
My heart, I love it. It’s a gift from my dear mother, who is no longer aging in her urn at the Rennes funeral home. My heart I do not give to the first come. When I give it, I do not take it back. Like ivy, I die where I bind. If the child I was never knew how to turn his tongue seven times in his mouth before uttering some outcrop of revenge, the teenager I was, the man I was and the old man I am had their hearts beating long enough before giving it to anyone, men or women.
Once his faith is given, Xavier cannot take it back. He is like that, believe me, I know him better than by sight. I share his bed, I shower with him and if I leave often to frolic in astral, I find him back with pleasure. How can I live here without him?
It turns out that this Xavier has never given his heart to the one god, this demon who has nothing good, but which all worship in all countries since the dawn of this dark age. A demon? Which demon?
I have named money, gold, notes, dollars, pesetas, euros, swiss franc et cetera.
All this under a single bicorn, that of the Principal Demon Mammon the Filthy. Also called His Motherfucker Highness.
And I don’t give a damn about a greenback a-dollar,
Spend it fast as I can
For a whalin’ song and a good guitar
The only things that I understand, poor boy
The only things that I understand
(listen to Kingston Trio in 1963)
There is gift, there is charity. The last one has less value to my heart. It was once a piece of paper in the hand that a tramp held out to parishioners coming out of the holy mass. Eleven o’clock mass. On Sunday the bourgeois gets up late. Other days also if he is trust-funder. But he gives the beggars only on Sunday after the mass. So that everyone sees him and praises his goodness.
What he is sticking his finger in the eye up to the scapula. Did not Jesus say in the apocryphal of Thomas: “Do not give charity, you will harm your soul.” And he added: “Do not fast, you will harm your body.” Yes, this anarchist is far from the little Jesus of the holy mass.
“Well-ordered charity begins with oneself” the Bourgeois says. Mind! This is not commonplace greed in Balzac way. It is to admit the evidence that a blind person can not guide anyone. Start by healing your sight, you will be able to guide yourself first before guiding others.
The bourgeois put the gift in the same bag as charity. My grandmother often sang me this rhyme:
Il avait le dédain des dons
C’était un dindon digne
Il avait le dédain des dons
C’était un digne dindon
He had the contempt of gifts
It was a worthy turkey
He had the contempt of gifts
It was a worthy turkey
And not just for the pleasure of alliteration that made laugh the kid I was. Ding Dingue Dong, what a joke!
But I’ve grown up. A little bit. For me, giving is not about showing charity. It’s about keeping it quiet. He must prove to be useful, even essential in saving Eden Saga from a planned death. Rush to the donation form right on the right and on all pages of the site. It’s my life, because I am attached to Eden Saga by all my fibers, and if the Saga dies, I will die too.see the second paragraph
How could I blame the gift? I practice it every time I inspire. I have built my life on this thread. I encourage everyone. I always felt indebted. We all feel that “thanks to Life” that makes our hearts beat. When one comes back from far away, when one marries his daughter, when one blesses the bread by drawing on the golden crust the simple cross of Hyperborea.
I have lived a hundred lives, magical, magnificent. I have known so many beautiful beings. So many spirits, so many great beating hearts. I have been fulfilled by the fairies, by life.
Who has received much must give without counting. But not in any way, not to be discarded wildly into the first garbage. Give sincere but sensible. Give the flower, which grows back, and keep the plant in your heart.
Not all are worthy of a gift. Do not give your pearls to pigs, nor your jam to turkeys. Save the flowers for those who savor their scent, grace and color.
Don’t give to those who steal from you. Such people exist, thieves of attention, thieves of life, thieves of breath, of envy, of time and energy. These are the psychopumps. For one reason or another, these beings are deprived of the energy activity of the basic chakra, which constantly feeds us in bio-energy or vril.
Under penalty of death, they have no choice but to pump the vital energy in others, which is felt by these others as an intense fatigue. These energy suckers are called psychopumps. In fact the solution is to repair their basic chakra : the demand for attention ceases immediately as well as the energy pumping. Unfortunately, the subtle pipe repairers do not run the streets. They prefer to run the bare earth.
There is another reason to be wary of systematic charity. Giving much is a lot of guilt. He gives everything to buy himself a good conscience, like those CEOs who throw big notes at the quest. Looking modest. The same CEOs, from the next day, will not hesitate to exploit their employees, nor to ruin their competitors. A moral for Sunday, a reality for the week.
The warrior’s rule contains in good place this unwritten article: “respect the warrior in everyone“. Hold every person, every being, for what it really is: a wind of pure energy, a divine spark, a perfect light. This is the basis of impeccability. No warrior needs anything that can be bought or sold. Everything is already present for the warrior, including the future.
Juan Matus taught the nagual apprentice Carlos Casteneda with the parable of the snail. This is not really a parable, rather a story of power. But what a lesson!
Do not interfere in the fate of anyone, you are not providence, you risk aggravating the situation with your gift fallen from heaven.
How many times have I said to myself, “Here’s a solution that would fix everything! This is what we need to do!” Before realizing later that this so-called solution turns out to be a catastrophe. Here I draw another parable, the one of the old Chinese.
When he is lamented because he has had a misfortune, he says: “Is it luck or bad luck? I really don’t know.” And when you congratulate him because he was lucky, he says the same thing. Nobody knows what tomorrow will be like, not even the meteorologists. The job of a fortune-teller is not what it was.
.
Whether he is a king, beggar or snail, the warrior must rely on him alone. He flees like the plague the propitiatory gifts or the gifts that oblige. But if he manages Eden Saga, if he has patiently made this rose bloom, he must listen to the Fox who says to the Little Princeby Saint Exupery:
You are responsible for your rose. And the Little Prince understands the extent of his responsibility towards her, as your servant admits that he has towards Eden Saga.
I am responsible for my rose. I will fight for it. And if necessary, like the Little Prince, I will die for it. You are forever responsible for what you have tamed. Eden Saga is a fairy tale, it’s also a rule of life. A glimpse of another way of life that is possible, and desirable. I have tamed some friends who do me the honor of following me. I have accepted responsibility for it.
But you are also. You owe him respect and loyalty. So help me, or rather help the Saga. I don’t need any money. I am free. Ultimate freedom does not need material gifts. Yet the warrior seeks it, absolutely. The freedom to be responsible for what we have tamed.
If you give, you buy with this gift. Those who give buy a share of Eden Saga. They will be able to watch it grow and become a beautiful woman. They have created a bond of love and trust with her. And if you do not have enough money to give, learn to listen. Listening to another person heals him.
If you listen, you give better than gold. And if you heal, what have you given? Love. The gift is given and you receive.
Healing Secrets
Our Reptilian Masters
There are not four elements, but five. The first is called ether. But we forgot…
Yes, totally lost. But don’t worry about it, the replacement is on.
The I Ching or Yiking was incomplete. I completed the hexagram Chen.
Human history begins in Africa with the Australopithecines, the first Blacks.
Listen calmly to the images while breathing deeply into the thoughts of Einstein.
FINAL WARNING / Unless a burst of generosity, Eden Saga will not reach 2025. Hurry…