“Scientific knowledge is not objective, it is, like civilization, a conspiracy, and many facts are rejected because they would upset established reasoning.” (source)Pauwels et Bergier, Le Matin des magiciens Thank you, Mr. Pauwels, thank you, Mr. Bergier. Reading your fabulous book has opened my eyes wide shut by ten years of catechism and twenty years of educastration.
This fabulous essay had the effect of a bomb when it appeared in 1960. He lists many anecdotes then unknown, he utters a typed of hidden facts, denounces a slew of untruths, and to tell the truth, he has opened the door to unexplored areas, parapsychology, esotericism, alchemy, secret societies, occult sciences… What a delicious draught of air in the head and in the heart! The young people of my generation really needed it.
Without air, I was. Air, even more air! I never lacked anything else. Before dying, at the very moment of his death, Goethe would have said: “Mehr Licht!” Did he already see more light in the other world than he saw here below? Or did he want us to bring more candles?
The light floods me more every day. And for the air, I don’t lack it either. In every sense of the word. I have more nerve than I need. Breath too. At the moment I write, my house vibrates and moans like a lantern at the expense of the Wind Shore, Land Before.
This book is not a novel, although the intention is romantic. It does not belong to science fiction, although there are myths that feed this genre. It is not a collection of bizarre facts, although the Angel of the Bizarre is comfortable there. Nor is it a scientific contribution, the vehicle of an unknown teaching, a testimony, a documentary, or a fabrication. It is the account, sometimes legend and sometimes exact, of a first journey in fields of knowledge barely explored.
I have little esteem for this indigestible and decadent mess called astrology. She tells me of a sign of air, an element very present in my astral chart. Great good does it. Yet I often missed it. At intervals, a sweet zephyr changes me. I become myself again. Sometimes — rarely — a gust exalts me. Pauwels and Bergier’s book was more than a squall.
Suddenly the narrow world, dull as a notary’s clerk, this little world deprived of air is no longer: its ghost explodes in fresh sheaves. Very thirst-quenching. A new world is there, still unreal and yet truer than the old. The uneasiness always felt dissipates, the joy radiates, the moment is sustained and the future belongs to me.
So I decided to live in the present. It’s a choice that everyone can make, a wild choice that lasts. I married Knowledge with a great C: it differs in every respect from scientific knowledge, which is often ignorance draped with indignity.
Of course, Darwin’s work is fiction. Everything is fiction in this pseudo theory of evolution. Darwin himself, at the end of his life, wanted to withdraw his master work, The Descent Of Man, which he considered full of errors and inconsistencies. Clairvoyance, finally! Under the pressure of his disciples, he did nothing about it, I deplore it, and science has not recovered.
For two centuries, we have been repeating this same nonsense without looking further or looking for mistakes. Yet innumerable… So we put patches on patches, we tape, we patch, we make the mistake last against everything. The theory of evolution is water on all sides, science does not care, its stubborn caciques prefer to sink with the ship. RIP, without eternal regrets … or even ephemeral.
It’s easier to blow up an atom than a prejudice.
I stand on the corner under a donkey hat, and the trained monkeys throw me moths. I’d rather have vegetables to make a good soup. Don’t think I’m an enemy of science. It’s quite the opposite. I love her enough to irritate me fiercely with jeans and buttocks-mathieu who shamelessly disguise her and make her lurk in the dark alleys of their ignorance. Don’t think I’m an enemy of the winkles either. I don’t like them, that’s true. I have to accept them. They are real people.
“To reject nothing from the real: a future science will discover unknown relationships between facts that seem unrelated to us. Science needs to be shaken by a bulimic mind though not credulous, new, wild. The world needs an encyclopedia of excluded facts, damned realities.” (source)Pauwels and Bergier, Morning of the Magicians
Thanks my friends, my path was already mapped out. It took me five decades before I decided to follow it. One of the few things I’m sure of: this encyclopedic Saga owes much to the Morning of the Magicians.
Well, there is no real difference: all virtual communicate. Magic and the web copulate. I don’t feel too out of phase, despite my old age. I’m at the foot of the wall, right in front of my last enemy, old age. The only enemy you can’t defeat. That’s the wheat you’re mowing, except I’m holding the wrong one.
“Where are we today? Doors have opened in almost every scientific building, but the building of physics is now almost without walls: a cathedral in stained glass where the gleams of another world are reflected, infinitely close.
Matter has proved to be as rich, if not richer, in possibilities than spirit. It contains an incalculable energy, it is susceptible to infinite transformations, its resources are unsuspected. The term “materialist” in the 19th century has lost all meaning, as has the term “rationalist”.
The logic of “common sense” no longer exists. In new physics, a proposition can be both true and false. A.B. is no longer equal to B.A. The same entity can be both continuous and discontinuous. We can no longer refer to physics to condemn this or that aspect of the possible.” (source)Pauwels and Bergier, Morning of the Magicians
Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier published it in October 1960. Sixty years later, the results are dubious: nothing has really changed. The same sentences could express the same hope in the new science, the hatching of which is still not in the end. Quantum physics, the major breakthrough of the last century, remains confined to a subordinate role instead of inspiring, as it should, other sciences. Instead of opening up like a vast fan, the infinity of possibilities is reduced like a skin of sorrow. And the brain of the scientists shrivels under the jets of acid of a morbid ego.
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…