Yes, time travel is possible. What I’m going to tell you may be shocking. But if I were to be silent because recognized scientists do not think like me, or because a majority of people may take me for a fool, Eden Saga would never have seen the light of day. I don’t care, I’m a fool. Really.
Except that I travel all the time and rather than listening to those who do not, I tend to believe first what I see. Time traveler, I think I have been since childhood. For that too, I had an unusual chance. At birth all babies are awake. Their fontanel is not closed, and by the time the bones of the skull finish welding, the infant has a beautiful white plume that gushes from his skull and connects it with transcendence.
Let us return to our awakened infant. This supreme power is the normal state of the human being, which is why we are all awake at birth. But we are at the end of kaliyuga, the age of darkness. So this state of perfection cannot last. Very quickly, the fontanelle is fused, the child becomes a small man clumsy and fragile. Totally unsuited to earthly life unlike small animals, the little man knows nothing of anything. His instinct does not direct him. He has to learn everything from scratch, almost. Without his parents, he would be condemned to certain death.
No more awakening, no more astral, welcome to a world of matter. In the best case, it will be necessary to wait until adulthood to have the shadow of a chance to progress on a path of awakening.
I woke up and I saw that everyone was still asleep. So I went back to sleep.
My only chance, my master asset, was not to go back to sleep. How could I have been, constantly confronted with the bullying and mischief of my elders, twin accomplices and determined to make me pay dearly for the irruption in their closed world. With four years less than them, I had to fight to live.
Struggle for life, fight to survive, that is the fate of all animals. That was my fate. I struggled like a devil to ensure my survival. I think it allowed me to stay awake. Like all animals. They don’t go back to sleep. Kaliyuga they don’t give a shit.
In a state of awakening, I was able to retain and develop a host of talents. These gifts of power, we all have at birth, but it does not last. During the Dark Ages, the ruthless world rushes to make us forget everything. I managed to escape it, and quite honestly, I never knew why. One thing is certain, I never took myself seriously. I never thought that all these incredible gifts rewarded any merit.
What merit frankly? That of having incarnated in this family, at that time, in the country of France? Don’t bullshit me. It is true that we all choose our incarnation, as I explained some time ago. Without any particular merit but full of generous gifts, I enjoyed a rare destiny, leading the life I dreamed of from childhood to old age. “The age of Monsieur is advanced” whispers my double with an ironic bow.
Among these talents is the ability to move through time. Yes, it is possible, I practice it every day and every night. Impossible to deprive myself of this sweet delirium. The world is a lot less scary when you don’t stay stuck in those sad times.
Following Merlin who is not enchanting for nothing, many dreamers have mounted this delirium. Time travel has inspired litanies of soap operas, novels, films or comics. Each of us has a weakness for this or that work that moved when child.
The common point is the machine. Chronoscaphe, timeporter, chronofinder, passtime, time-machine, DeLorean, whatever the name, you have to get on board a device, put on a suit or a helmet, drink a potion. Reality is much simpler and less material. It’s just an old shamanic trick.
Since there are men, there are shamans, medicine men or sorcerers, whatever name they are given. The shamans have developed a very powerful time travel technique. They also know how to travel in space, instantly transport themselves to the other end of the plain, the galaxy, or the universe.
“These astronauts make me laugh,” said Don Juan Matus after the first American moon landing. “Any shaman is able to go to the moon, we’ve all been doing it for a long time. But none of us could bring back a single stone.”
That’s the problem. You can’t take anything in astral. It’s a dimension of the mind. Otherwise a long time ago I would have taken pictures of Julius Caesar, the only JC whose historical existence is attested, because the other…
When I move along the timeline, I see everything I want, but I’m invisible to those I watch. A ghost, what. It is quite possible that some ghosts observed by sensitive subjects are the unreal trace of travelers of another era.
I have always been interested in unknown or unknown powers, the infinite astral, other worlds, life after life. When I was very young, I experienced body exits, decorporations as those who do not do say. “Decorporation is an experience experienced by an individual involving the sensation of floating outside the body.” Wikipedia uses such cautious terms that they distort the real experience.
Floating without one’s body is not a sensation for those who do, but a reality.
I have often been asked how I explore the hidden mysteries of our distant past. I read a lot the old masters, the great ancients who have, often without knowing it, transmitted to us the nuggets that belong to the mythologists to exhume, to remove makeup and to revive.
Sometimes, more and more often, a big bubble of knowledge rises from the depths of my unconscious – or time, if you like better, both labels adapt to the same bottle. When the bubble bursts on the surface of my consciousness, I have a flash and I visualize, at a glance and without effort, the secrets encysted in the spiraled flesh of time.
An old shamanic thing, that’s all. Just cut yourself in half, it’s called bilocation. Flornoy calls it here and here. You are both here and now, and also elsewhere. In conscious astral. As time does not exist in astral, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want. While you walk in your astral body, your physical body – and a minimum of consciousness – will remain here and now. Castaneda calls it stopping the world.
As Janis Joplin, whom I love dearly, said: “As we discovered on the train, tomorrow never happen. It’s all the same fucking day.“ And Alan Watts echoes her: “The future is a concept, it does not exist. There is nothing like tomorrow. There will never be, because time is always present. This is one of the things we discover when we stop talking to ourselves and stop thinking. We find that there is only the present, only an eternal now.“
Okay, I must admit that these experiences are easy for me. Among my gifts, I have that of the exit of body. It helps, no need to deny it. I made my first body outing at twelve, I barely remember. But when I was sixteen, I made a fully conscious one after a motorcycle accident. I almost got killed. After that, I made others, regularly, always with the same jubilation.
I was getting thrills without going to an amusement park, which was a good idea: these crowd traps did not exist yet.
Time is an obstinately persistent illusion.
Well, well, well. And when you don’t have that gift of leaving your body, how do you do that? How do you cut yourself in half? How do you stop the world?
Listen to your body. What you don’t know, your body knows.
“A theory enunciated in 1904 by Richard Semon, introduces the concept of engram describing the set of biological and physical changes in a population of neurons that leads to the persistence of memory. The subsequent stimulation of the engram, by the same signals as during its formation, leads to a recovery of memory. The stronger the connections between the neurons of the engram, the longer the memory will last. At the time, no experiment could confirm this theory.” (source)
Since then, other experiments have validated the hypothesis. But I take Carl Jung’s view taken up by Hubbard as more fruitful. Here’s why. The spiritual view seems to me more convenient. I have been working for more than 20 years on engrams and their healing, I speak from experience.
An engram is a wound. Wound of body, heart, soul. Each deep wound creates a blockage in our energy pattern, like a dam prevents water from flowing.
Through appropriate inner work, the warrior of light manages to cleanse his energetic scheme, restoring the free flow of vril flows in his subtle body. He succeeds in healing one by one the wounds within, the wounds to the being, the bruises to the soul that every person accumulates on this plane. Who cannot travel in his past, is prevented by engrams. They are so many dams on the power line, so many blockages between our here-and-now and our eternity.
When the time comes, techniques allow us to free ourselves from the traumas inherited from childhood – or from previous lives. When the traumas of the near or distant past have been erased, forgiven, levelled, the warrior is free to travel on his timeline. I crossed the river in 1992, the year of dung. It was hard, I rowed, and to give birth to an unfortunate blockage I had to find no less than twenty-four previous lives! I had to eat with a spoon, according to the formula.
Whatever, arcane XIII is like the baccalaureate: when you have it does not count, but when you do not have it it makes the difference. I passed the water, I have free access to my entire timeline, I circulate freely over all ages of my life, including intrauterine life, which is a pure delight in most cases. And also the life that comes.
Better yet, I can travel anytime in the past, anywhere in space. Or even in other star systems. It’s a fabulous asset, and I appreciate the benefits. Would I have written a single reliable line about our distant past if I hadn’t gone there to see for myself how it was going?
Back from my time trip, I brought back memories, visitable, the twenty-four destinations of my distant past. All eras, all continents. Twenty-four lives in flesh and blood, which I had lived in detail, full of smells, pains and true colors.
That was a quarter of a century ago. Impossible to doubt the veracity of my travels, they had a truly hallucinating reality character. I could not doubt them. For years, I was so certain of it, it so deeply moved me that I spent all my free time exploring these lives with infinite respect, as a philatelist observes a collection of precious stamps.
What I have done, some have done, others can do. Time travel is obvious. Yes, it is. It is a vertigo that seizes the being when he is no longer subject to his here-and-now by the weight of his past sufferings, forgotten, castrating. To be without engram. Finally free.
How many adults suddenly behave like very young children to the amazement of their entourage? An engram has just re-emerged in them, which made them the age, the blockages, the ignorance they had then. We are victims of our engrams until the cleaning is done. It is called the arcane XIII. Then, it takes the years it takes, we progress on the path of time, we coax him, we track him, we track him and suddenly…
The door of time is there, in front of you, wide open!
You can go in, but you can’t take people in yet. Not right away. Not just anybody. Now that I get there, I sort it out. Prowler of time, temporal passer-by, I diffuse and dissipate, I strike and distinguish, among the shadows, those that are to come, those that happen elsewhere and those that do not take place. With this rich wool, I weave the patient tapestry that tells the great saga of men: impossible to be sure that it is true, which is certain, it is much less false than the fables we are told since childhood.
My timeline opened, tomorrow it will open even more. I slipped my foot to block the door. In the gap, my dear friends, slip away. Do not wait. The lost time is waiting for you.
In Breton, Grandma is called Mam Goz. Eden Saga is a Mam Goz who takes you by the hand and shows you in detail the hidden wonders of our common past. Tales and legends, facts and jokes, words and evils, shores and laughter, all this is our stolen story, which today is returned to you.
Like a blazing comet, I’ve traversed infinite nights, interstellar spaces of the imagination, voluptuousness and fear.
There are many copies of this article on the web and elsewhere. I want to make it clear to these thieves that my items and artwork are copyrighted. Any total or partial reproduction of a text or image of Eden Saga without the author’s permission constitutes plagiarism and may be the subject of criminal prosecution. Only short quotes with their source and a link to the page from which they are extracted are allowed.
First published on September 27, 2008 — Second edition on November 8, 2013 — Third edition on April 10, 2023 — This updated and revised edition was published on June 24, 2024.
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