I’m not a religious person, by that I mean I have no affiliations to any organisations that dictate and impose spiritual dogma. I am however sensitive and spiritually aware; and I do my best to live my life considerately and ethically. I’ve improved as I’ve gone along but I’m a long way from perfect; mostly because I don’t assimilate with the contradictions and thoughtless attitudes that are encouraged and legislated everywhere, and struggle to comprehend their attraction. Why do people wear masks?…or think they are. I’m not talking about internet aliases that some people need for their security. I get that. I’m talking about people who do it to present themselves as something more acceptable to the programmed mind, or to disguise dark motives. Masks are no barrier to an adept sensitive; many, many, people can see through them; and more and more mask-people are realising that and rather than being more open they run and hide; stay amongst people who can’t see them. The Darkness still can though, they are in the dark, and these antics amuse It no end. Anyhow, more on this, you may notice, through this article.
So, one day I sat down to continue writing up accounts of experiences I’d recalled that I hadn’t included in the first edition of my book, Dogged Days, and others I’d had since. Very soon a warm and tingling energy began to flow through me…and I found myself writing about Christ energy and receiving insights regarding number four, and other subjects, ones that I hadn’t suspected before. I had not intended to include Jesus or Christ but now I was.
The experience I am going to recount happened not long after I had written a brief paragraph or two on my website about the reality of Jesus the man and the likelihood that he was purposely expunged from all but one or two historical records; and that same day, during a telephone conversation with a friend, I had been praising the wisdom he had brought…rather, they had brought, because it is my understanding that Christ has and does manifest in human beings everywhere, and in every era, and in both genders. Children of an ancient cause
We have mostly only sparse publicly accessible written records of but a few of these inspirational beings and amongst those that have survived they are mainly confused or fragmentary. Even before the Roman Empires of acquisition and subjugation, of religious dominance, persecution and terror, fell upon the whole world, other manifestations of dark enterprise had claimed and destroyed humankind’s legacies. Once every people had their own memories of bright inspirational sages whose wisdom they sought to live by. Their lives attuned with their surroundings and nature flourished.
Instead, now the darkly imposed doctrines of the conquerors have bred spiritual incapacity, irresponsibility and denial to every part of the world. People have been made to be so blinded that even if (when) an authentic inspiring teacher did arrive in their midst they would ignore or attack them – unless they wore sharp clothes, waved sold-out credentials and were bigged-up by the media – alternative and/or corporate. Jesus wouldn’t get his sandal in the door, but then again I doubt he’d want to.
It is rare for a prophet to be acknowledged and appreciated widely in their time, if ever. I would even suggest never. Authentic way-showers do not have large followings, and neither do they have any desire at all to have any. They are inspirations for times ahead, so not comprehended by those steeped in the present, excepting those who stand apart themselves, really stand apart, don’t aim or crave for plaudits and recognition by the messenger or the masses. If they are then they are compromised and not doing their job…unless their role in this life is to gain public attention, but there are caveats to that. The attention they draw must always be directed to the messages they are charged with communicating, not the personality, and they must always ensure that this is understood by people who are drawn to their work.
Enlightening wisdom is always conveyed within a message, yet very rarely in the words. Their deeper essence moves to and fro in the spaces in-between that reach into our aura and into the heart of us, recognised and interpreted by their rhyme and their beat. Words are re-designated to aim for our primed intellects and our programmed instinctual minds to manoeuvre our behaviour and view of ourselves.
Most everyone understands (stands under) most of the words of their own language but these come by way of ‘sentences’. Sentences are judgements and opinions (o-pinions), they tie you down, restrict you. Eloquence and articulate writing are not indications of factual discourse, of truth; yet people have been indoctrinated, very thoroughly, to believe they are. In this world, manufactured and directed by the Demiurge, the Darkness, fine flowing words and claims of unauthorised knowledge are, for me, signs that all may not be as they appear; that I need to use other means of ‘seeing and ‘listening’ as well. I do this anyway, most of the time, but there are times when I am pre-occupied with something else I’m doing at the same time. Multi-tasking, we are always being told is good, it isn’t. Focus is the key, you cannot perform at, or achieve, your best with scattered attention.
While there are some messages in the passages of the Titanic Verses’s New Testament, and in the deeds of legendary saints, that impart great wisdom, there are also pass-Ages, stories that I do not believe ever happened. I do not believe, for instance, the tales of huge throngs of people clamouring after Jesus, on mounts or anywhere else. They are allegorical; and need to viewed with our more insightful senses.
Perhaps we could examine the legend of St. Christopher and how he had successfully carried the ever-increasing weight of the child across the raging torrent and, exhausted, put him down on the other side. Christopher said, “You have put me in the greatest danger. I do not think the whole world could have been as heavy on my shoulders as you were.”
The child replied, “You had on your shoulders not only the whole world but Him who made it. I am Christ your king, whom you are serving by this work.“The Church and academia (same thing at it’s root) will tell you that this confirms their version of the Jesus story and how he (Jesus) is God who made the world. It isn’t.
The ‘whole world‘ and ‘Him who made it‘ grew heavy like lead because Christopher was carrying the Darkness and the child. The child’s weight remained the same – zero, the child is the spirit of Christ energy, which is why he vanished once across the river. Despite the increasing power of the Darkness Christopher (Christ-bearer) succeeded in bearing Christ energy to the shore. In truth Christ carried Christopher.
The Roman Church dumped St Christopher from their calendar in 1969 (with puzzlingly contradictory reasons, if you think about it) when, I suspect, they realised that they had fallen for this simple, yet ingenious gnostic parable about how Christ energy would traverse the Age despite the seemingly insurmountable distractions and pressures from the Demiurge/Darkness/Saturn/Satan that has so clearly installed and controlled it. How, by the setting of Christopher’s staff and the fruit-bearing palm that sprang forth from it, there is promise (certainty, they suggest) that the mystical and magical Christ energy will spring up (resurrect) in the Age of the Water-bearer (Aquarius), and flourish.
“The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree” Psalm 92-12. They knew that the scales of Pisces would be pounded; and they also knew that this awakening would not be immediate. The story says, ‘the next morning’ which indicates after the dark and also, possibly 180 years to come into fruition, though the rising will begin from curtain call. When is that though? Is it when, from the materialist point of view, the sun moves into Aquarius in our time? Their time? Ancient time? Or in a more ethereal calendar of unconscious moments? Might their measured description also be suggesting ‘in the blink of an eye’?
Christopher, as I suggested earlier, was the story of a Child of an ancient cause, a Christ carrier, who is carried by Christ, and hopes for human awakening. Jesus of Nazareth was another. One of the signs to look for that I don’t think I’ve mentioned in writing before, is that they all suffer from head wounds, and very often die from them. I’m not saying everyone who receives head injuries is here on a crucial mission, but it’s possible, and I am also not saying that Christ carriers are all saints. The crown of thorns that cut into Jesus’ head, in part, and in symbolism, portrays this sign. Others who have passed our way? Well, I’m sure you can come up with quite a few who have left their prominent footsteps.
Anyway, I’ve taken a detour (again) from the intended article. I do that quite often, it’s a 7 thang, and it’s been another 7-hour marathon for me…so it needed saying.
This is a record of an experience I had very soon after that which I wrote about in the early paragraphs of this article. I first wrote about it in an email to subscribers, or a subscriber article in April 2012, can’t recall which.
Into Un-being…I met a man
I had two of the most vivid and powerful visionary experiences that I can remember, the second beginning only a minute or two after the first, if that. I wasn’t laying down, or sitting down, I was hanging my clothes up in the wardrobe.
There have been moments in my life when I have looked at my body and instead of a physical being I am an extraordinary shimmering intensely bright body of white light. When this has occurred it has always been during daylight and I have been fully awake. The sensation is exquisitely pure and beautiful and I realise that I am truly one with eternity and one with everything in the Creation of All that Is.
In my first vision I saw before me a glowing white pyramid of light. Entering into it I realised that again I had become that body of intense white light I have seen myself as. I sat down in the pyramid and as I did so balls of every colour danced in all directions around me.
After a moment I too began to dance in the light inside the pyramid of light, turning, somersaulting, circling in the air, as the balls continued to weave around me; and then after a little while, as I was hovering and still, the balls formed a circle and rotated around me at about arm’s length and at heart level.
Very soon I began to spin faster and faster till I shot out of the top of the pyramid and into space. As I careered into the heavens I could see circles of lights and realised that they were galaxies and that they were spinning too, though very slowly compared to the speed that I was travelling.
Presently I came across another being, also of bright white light, sitting there upon a toadstool fashioned by the same light. It sat there watching me with its finger to its mouth…hushhhhh, it whispered. I had just enough time to recognise it before I exploded into a brilliant vapour and then into ribbons of iridescent light, all of the colours of the spectrum, which came together and entwined to form a barley-twist rainbow resembling the pattern of DNA. At some point I again reconstituted into the light being and a golden key on a glorious purple cushion appeared before me…and then, spinning very fast, I returned into the pyramid whilst every-colour sharp streaks of light were flashing all around me. Resting once more in the pyramid, for a little while, vibrating softly, I began to come to…
…but the experiences hadn’t finished…Walking towards me was a man. He was dressed in a bright white material that wrapped around his body, he wore sandals.
‘He looks like Jesus”, I thought to myself; yet as he came closer I saw that he appeared older compared to the picture we are all presented of him. He had a full-ish beard, long wavy light golden-brown hair and piercing blue eyes and although there was no greyness about him he looked to be in his seventies. This confused me for a very brief moment but I was convinced that this was Jesus; emanating from him was this indescribably wonderful and beautiful essence of love, of Truth; and in all my being I knew that it was he.
The man reached out his hand and put it over my heart and said, “My soul to take.” And then, with a warm and sagacious, somewhat world-weary smile, his blue eyes looking straight into mine, he gently took my arm as if we were about to stroll together, saying quietly, “You walk with me.” …and then I was conscious again.
Obviously I ponder on the things that happen to me and I sense that Jesus appeared elderly because he is nearing the end of his sojourn as the emissary of Christ energy during this now waning Age of Pisces. The key on the cushion may well have been telling of the same thing, being a symbol of ‘opening the door’ to the Golden Age’…I feel that I was blessed by a truly wonderful and inspirational experience that will stay with me always.
© April 2012
Here is the full picture from which the pyramid image was excerpted. It is called, ‘Bay of Bridget’, and is by Pembrokeshire visionary artist, Angela George. Her website is www.artfrequency.co.uk
* Added 30th July 2018
In 2016 I knowingly began walking a powerful, yet in dire need of healing, current of energy through Pembrokeshire. It was something I knew I had to do.
At the time, and for a long time, I didn’t put two and two together …the reason why I felt such strong motivation was because my intuition recognised it as a task that had been lives-long in the preparing. Five years earlier, although this too took some time to register, I had been assigned during an in-betwixt otherworld ceremony. I wrote about this in Called to Cares
With every step along the ancient Way, ringing in my heart has been the memory of that magical moment with Christ and the affectionate words he spoke softly to me…and more and more I have come to realise how this journey I am on is, in the true sense of the term, a pilgrimage. Y Ddraig has brought me through powerfully significant sacred places one after another, to restore and reaffirm their connections with each other and this Holy land overflowing with Holy places where Christ was born, and lived, in the landscape and in the hearts of the loving – before He was desert-ed by unaware overshadowed humanity.
To date I have covered this sinuous path (known as a Dragon line) from St. Bride’s, in the far south-west of Pembrokeshire to Strata Florida Abbey in Ceredigion. Could it be due to the powerful forces inspiring this journey that in all that distance every landholder, except three (two managers and one sad drop-kick) has shown me every kindness and assistance, and been so very interested in this project? ¹
1: One of the managed farms didn’t matter in the end – the current, Y Ddraig Ffraed, just went across one small field; I’ve found the address of the owner of the other and will be visiting them at some point soon. (In fact, I’ve met someone while out with Ffraed, whose own farm is right on Y Ddraig, with family connections to the farmer who owns that farm.
The lone refusing landholder, who must think he is an immortal, looked very inhabited. Probably the best thing this hunched character could have done for himself would have been to have Ffraed’s energy clean and reinvigorate the fields around him. Maybe She will anyway, and this Scroogey character will experience a Dickensian awakening. His is an organic milk farm, which is a bit of a worry for anyone consuming the produce of this farm.