United States Of Earth



We are not alone. We are not the first. We are not the strongest. We are not even united on earth.

And yet … 

We are the ninety-nine percent. If we unite, peace will come. In the event that awaits us, we will get through all together or perish to the last.

The Iron Age in which we yearn is a sad time indeed. We need to fly but our wings have not yet grown. We need to love, to give unconditionnal absolute love, but our hearts are not open enough. So we can only smell the flavor of the dishes ahead, while continuing to starve at the door of the feast.

“I drove, I lived, I loved and I enjoyed today, but I hope much more Lord! How can my little head be so silly? Dreaming of an everlasting party, of a big sky I want to see” sang the tragic and divine Father Duval in the sixties. (source)Aimé Duval, La p’tite tête

Aimé_Duval_(1918-1984)-poThis unconventional priest, musician, showman, visionary – and alcoholic too – was a victim of his gifts and of the stupidity of the gray years. Extreme sensitivity doesn’t match excessive lucidity. Poor him – he had both. Never mind the religion: any creed – yours, his or mine – is personal and indisputable.

What I love with him is his extraordinary visonnaire talent. He anticipated the events of May 68 fifteen years before. He anticipated the dawn of a new age, based on equality and sharing, he anticipated the fall of the elites and the elites have not forgiven him when the people extolled.

He sang the factory and the workshop, World War II, the worker-priests of the JOCJeunesse Ouvrière He sympathized with the first liberation theologians of South America, and as Abbé Pierre has always refused the honors and hierarchy promotions. He remained with the poor and the humble, in the crowd of his human brothers and sisters. He shared their sufferings, doubts and failures. His alcoholism was a mirror of rampant alcoholism that decimated the working people. The poor people of France was sad and depressed.

For small people, Duval was singing about spirit, awakening, opening and universal love with catchy tunes and simple words. He was fifty years ahead, he will be popular again. In his song My Little Head he points how the head is troublesome in our way toward light. He speaks of opening heart, he sings the wonders of life. Weariness, too. In the evening, when blue, what does he dream? Of a great sky. Not normal blue, white or gray sky, not the every day sky.




 Not Christian skies, this paradise in which, even then, honest people no longer believed much. So what sky was he talking about? 

Exactly what is expected right now. The opening of the Great Sky. Soon we will see. There is a veil between us and the galactic reality. We are separate from it, living in a fake world that we have always taken for reality. Small children, babies can see the big sky. They can see a sky full of entities, crowded with half-human beings who move there by whole troops in all directions.

Little children can see the fantastic bestiary of chimeras, half human half animal, that are invisible to adults. They can see the elves, fairies, each representative of the Little Ones. They can see their double or guardian that their parents call “an imaginary friend.” We have all had. One day he disappeared: that is called growing up. Losing the grace of children. They can especially see the true colors of the world, not only seven like adults do, but thousands of colors that can not be seen in chart.

This opening of the sky is next. Soon the most advanced among us will clearly see these wonderful colours that we perceive only in astral. For these human beings are already transformed: new sensory organs appeared in their astral bodies that make them scouts, guides and leaders.


Do not search what the world needs. Find out what makes you feel alive, and do it. Because what the world needs, it is people who feel alive. (Howard Thurman)



We are all visitors of this time, of this place. We are only crossing them. Our goal here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love … After which we go home.
Aboriginal wisdom