Mountain Of Light


I, Aorn the hunter, I was Enoch the Elder, then Amnesias the ephebe, then Idriss the traveler, now they call me Anosh the Ascender. I lived many lives in it, and I know that I would live many others. I now reside on the central Mount overlooking Hyperborea. But most of the time, I travel on the timeline.

“The Mandaeans will call this mount the”White Mountain”  or “Mountain of Light.”
This is where John the Baptist was initiated by the patriarch Anosh-Uthra,
whom Christians call Henoch. It would be located at the North Pole.”

As an ascended master, I must convey the initiation that I have received from the hand and body of the Goddess. It is the duty of every ascended master. This status is repugnant to me, but I must accept it. Three times I was abducted from my earthly pursuits and thrown across the sky to the Kingdom of the Goddess. Thus one becomes ascended. But I did not choose. The Goddess never let me choose according to my heart.

I had to live for her, work for her, act for her. I must eat, wash, sleep whenever she wanted. I had to love her according to her desire, now I belong to her body and soul. Her destiny is mine, I am bound to her fate, as long as I live I should serve her, love her and adore her. It is still she who will decide my end, as she decides to extend my days much more than it befits. Three times already I have changed my body, my fickle soul has transmigrated to a brand new organism, and I enjoyed the happiness of being young, as I suffered from not being able to extinguish myself and finally find the rest in peace.

My life does not end. I buried my sons, their children, and the children of their children. I left the earth so long that I no longer have any relative or friend. No one remember the yooungster I have been. This world of mine is over definitely. I am living in hers. The customs I have loved are forgotten for ages, the laws have changed, the landscape too. I am tired to die, but die I can not. The Goddess will not control me anymore when my soul has taken flight to the stars. She waves a toy in her hands. His superhuman love overwhelms me. Too much for the least.

My friends, my brothers and my sisters, love is stronger than anything, he created the world and he will see its end. We do not escape his nets. It is our delights and our heaviest torments. I spent a hundred years, I thought I was a child. Nothing is sweeter than to be loved, nor is anything greater than to love.



I will tell you some of my intrusions into the folds of time past and the hills of the future time. I’m on board a spacio-temporal module called a hobby. Change the costumes, change the scenery, it’s always the same comedy. Everything shines that is not golden. My fate is dead. She’s the one who holds it. I am his dog. I met a human worse off than I am. It is called Hercules or Herakles, which means in Greek The Glory of Hera. Where is his glory? He is a slave like me. He blindly obeys the Goddess and does everything she says without flinching. He acts without thinking. His head is empty like mine, so that the voice of the Goddess may resonate at leisure.

The people admire and reverence those who have the misfortune to be loved by the gods. Truly, I say to you, beware of envying the elect. They have no way, they are naked on the Way, and in their empty heads rings the Voice a hundred times a day. A thousand echoes echo, each one of them dictates their steps. Thus Hercules the dog of Hera was dubbed by Enoch the dog of Hathor. Hera is well worth Hathor. Everyone knows that these two are one. Under many names, in many bodies, the Goddess is unique. And his lovers are innumerable.

And hop ! I jump to the controls of my hobby. Hathor sends me to find another human darling of the gods. His name is John, he baptizes the humble in the water of a river. As soon as I have spotted it on the screen of my transponder temporal, it will be easy for me to attract him here, on the mountain of light where I took refuge, within earshot of the Goddess who watches me at leisure from the top of his palace.

I do not even know what time he goes to, that Jean. The Goddess laughed in my face: “To find him will be easy, he has baptized a certain Jesus who will found a lasting religion by calling himself son of God the Father and God the Spirit. The ungrateful does not speak of me. I want you to find it too, and bring it here. We have two words to tell us.”

That’s how I did my investigation. The Baptist was easy to find. But the other, the name Jesus, Ieschua, Issa or whatever, in Judea everyone is called that. I found some kyrielles, none was the good. Not one who is the son of God the Father, God the Spirit and God the Word. God willing. Or by God. Or whatever you want, he is absent, unknown, evanescent, gone. I look good. Already I must summon the Baptist and shoot him the worms. What I have done. John came, he believed, he asked me to teach him. What I have done.

I asked him about Jesus. “Remember that one, he’s a known prophet.” Jean seemed lost to me. Never seen, never known, never heard. The Baptist was almost angry. He baptizes all day, the fashion is baptism naked, it invigorates, it shark and it’s a fad. The crowd is crazy. John told me, “How can I remember all those whom I sprayed while reciting the sacred words? You do not even know when he came to me. So how would I know? “

From my hands, not from my body, John received initiation. He will know what lies behind everything he sees. He will know where the Voice comes from in his head. He also loves the Goddess but will not be able to show it. That would displease the Sanhedrin, the religious council that orders and punishes. Rome can count on the Sanhedrin to denounce marginals, malandrines, prophets, and all those who make waves. Even stupid by work, the people listen to these prowlers. The chained ones like the savages, those who go free on the roads, all these preachers with powdery feet.

The goddess is furious. I did not find his famous Jesus. She holds me for an incompetent. She suspects my incompetence, she thinks I do not know how to control my hobby, she is wrong. I believe that his sources are false, there was no Christ Jesus at the time of John the Baptist, not a single Jesus who would have made the prophet or the bad boy. Yet, she told me, he was crucified under Pontius Pilate. We have all the details. He is from Nazareth. Death on Golgotha. He is a Jew and is more than a Jew. He claimed to save all men and to make love reign on earth.



A glance at the future shows enough that it has failed – if it ever existed! The wars continued as before, the massacres, the tortures, the rapes, nothing has changed. Man is a wolf to man. Has the Goddess forgotten it? The village of Nazareth did not exist yet in the time of John. How would this Jesus have lived? The Roman archives of the province of Judea under Pontius Pilate mention all crucifixions. This Jesus is not there. No offense to the Goddess, he is not Christ Jesus, but Invented Jesus.

All the countries that no longer have a legend will be condemned to die of cold.
Patrice de la Tour du Pin