dan wrote:Poor, Cy,
You fail to comprehend the sensitivity of the R&D show.
I am not a government agent.
At most, I have availed myself to be an agent of opportunity for the process of Disclosure.
I have never been an insider, certainly not in any mundane sense.
If you wish to speak metaphysically, that would be another matter.
And how very, very silly of you to suppose that Ron would ever tell me anything that I didn’t have an absolute need to know.
Let’s suppose that Ron is an insider. I believe that there is very little question about that.
I have absolutely no need to know the names of any of his colleagues.
I understand that you wish to check on my bone fides.
(cont.........)
No Dan, none of the above. You still are not listening.
I was very clear and specific.
This is the SAME problem the globalists have, the not listening.
The proper response in lieu of being unable to do as asked is:
"I'm sorry I humbly do not have the ability to discern and identify the speaker specified in the post."
Then you leave it at that.
Over the years I've said some very key things for the discerning ear.
How does one repair erring? Humble Practice without expectation of reward...the right action/behavior for the right and just reasons sake alone.
You all missed Trump doing just that. The OTHERS did not.
THERE IS YOUR DISCLOSURE.
****************
...That was the answer to the riddle! The connection between the current state of being and the components of
art as transformation!Zari went to one knee and spoke reverently, "it is not some One who requests admittance, Lady. It is a humble
Author;
pure inspiration;
pure creative consciousness, shaken like stardust over everything both aware and unaware; I am a facet of the mythic truth, written in the greenbook of the Grass -- the primal scripture of all worlds."
Zari waited without moving so much as a muscle. A shiver ran down her spine. It was not the first time she had approached this test, but she stubbornly refused to fail. She bowed her head awaiting the verdict.
Long moments passed, marked only by the rustling of the breeze in the flowered greenery behind her, and in the occasional patter of butterfly wings as they shifted positions around the woman.
The verdict never came.
Zari puzzled over the silence. Then at long last the woman turned toward her and the butterflies took to the air in a small cloud around her.
"Enter."
The woman extended a delicate hand to indicate a position before her. Her eyes, with striking butterfly wing patterns on the lids, studied her as if they could see past her skin into her soul. Zari knew the woman was reading her aura. She rose and moved to the
spot indicated.
"I pledge my Oath without boasting, Lady."
The Butterfly Queen smiled a gentle smile.
"Enigma of two worlds pursues you, child. A truth of Being holds primacy in all the universe. It is on the tongue of the mind-matrices and their matrons. And it is a thing that fast will bind."
Zari startled looked up at the woman. "This is unexpected," Zari stammered, "you have departed from what I was taught to expect."
"You would present your Oath to begin a course of study," the Butterfly Queen affirmed, "I understand. But there is a ripple in the fabric of the Unum, and that ripple is wound tight about your soul. Something has laid claim to you already, child."
The mapping of our spiritual progress will certainly not be straight forward or easy to record. We will have to be alert to subtle changes and correspondences between what we experience and what seems to be true for us. ~ Caitlin Mathews, on Spirtual Navigation, Celtic Spirit.
****************
....It was then he came upon a strange sight. It was a battle of titan proportions whirling, rising, and diving in a dance that reminded him of something he might otherwise have forgotten. He watched as the delta's wingman fired the red-flaming arrows that took off the wing panels of the boomerang. The big boomerang rolled over to realign for another run at the delta. And then a silvery psychic energy snaked from the clear canopy top of the boomerang, down its bent wing and encapsulated the damaged area.
Chee's dream eagle screamed in surprise. A deep desire to protect the occupant of the boomerang welled up in him and his dream mind sought out the pilot of the other delta.
His thought-wave streaked into the delta's cockpit. Wielding the warriors frenzy, he pulverized the draco inside, causing the craft to fail reacting to the boomerang's final drive to shoot it down.
The colors of the delta's explosion filled his eagle eye, growing till only there was only fiery yellow light and then slowly receding into the wake of an intense magnetic disturbance in the stratosphere. His dream eagle rolled in the void, momentarily drawing its wings in close protectively then fanning them out to their greatest extent, as it took up a new trajectory.
His spirit-eagle sought out the damaged boomerang. It was slowly heeling over into an uncontrolled dive to the earth. Smoke billowed in a long sad stream from the broken wing. Chee sent his ghostly eagle body diving after it, reaching out with quantum thought waves, first to match pace and then to protectively envelope the cockpit of the critically damaged craft. He focused on sealing the rents in the wing as it vented atmosphere.
Side by side they raced toward the earth, the ethereal eagle of the Jemez shaman and the broken starship.
As the craft careened earthward they passed a high-altitude aircraft with blinding speed.
At that moment, he sensed the boomerang pilot's struggle to maintain flight control. And he sensed something else...
...an unfettered howl of elemental turmoil; a star-rending fury melded with a frustration no man could hope to understand.
Chee awoke violently from the dream and bolted upright from the bedroll on the mesa with a physical speed he had not mustered in more than a century.
INTERLUDE.
****************
CHAPTER 13
The soul of each one of us is sent, that the universe may be complete.~ PLOTINUS, Enneads.Every man who walks the earth
casts a shadow on the world.
Some are thin and weak,
others long and dark.
You should look behind you...
the moon has kissed you and etched your shadow
upon the ice twenty feet tall.~ The Red Woman to Jon Snow,
from the book A Dance with Dragons
by George R. R. Martin.
At Lindbergh Field in Winslow Arizona, General Winter had acquired a temporary office from the Army Air Transport Command. It was cramped but would serve his purposes for the moment. He leaned back in the wooden office chair and it protested on poorly oiled springs....
*****************
The three things which surpass understanding:
the work of the bees, the mind of women,
and the flow and ebb of the tide.~ Ancient Irish Triad.How can we help our young
Who wait to cross the frontier
Between child and adulthood?~ Caitlin Mathews on Rites of Passage,
"Conference of the Trees"A red dragonfly sped along the dry creek bed dodging rocks. The Kayenta Mesa sun was high in the sky and the temperature was climbing. The dragonfly desperately pulled more speed from its four wings.
Ahead the wreckage of a boomerang-shaped spaceship sprawled in the creek bed, in the only truly open area it could have landed. The ship's hull still steamed from its entry through the Earth's atmosphere.
By the nose of the craft, a red-haired unconscious woman lay slumped on the ground. The dragonfly buzzed over her, inspecting from her feet to her head. She was young. Perhapsin her early twenties. She seemed intact.
The dragonfly landed on a rock beside the young woman and the air suddenly distorted. A flash of light and an upper-middle-aged native American man materialized from the light where the dragonfly had been. He was dressed in a long off-white rough-spun woolen tunic belted with a woven belt at the waist. Dark brown buckskin pants and light orange calf-skin boots that extended above his knees and were tied up with red cloth bands just below the knee. His black greying hair was neatly pulled back in a braid and a rust-colored cloth head band soaked up the sweat produced beneath the summer sun across his forehead, completed the image of him.
He knelt down by the young woman's body and poured some water from a gourd over her face. She spluttered, coughed and then moaned.
The man then drew a sage chub from a pouch that hung from a beaded leather strap over his shoulder. He lit the sage chub with a torquoise and silver lighter he produced from a hidden pocket sewn into the backside of his woven waist belt. When the chub produced a
cloud of bluish-green white smoke he blew the smoke into her face. Her eyes fluttered and she looked up at him.
"We've been waiting for you," the man said...
*****************
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