UNUS MUNDUS

The UNUS MUNDUS forum of Psychovision (Remo F. Roth) invites discussion of theoretical and practical issues of a possible union of Carl Jung's depth psychology with quantum physical principles.
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Post Re: Debug General Error #237 & CROWS
Junis wrote:
having trouble posting. I keep receiving this error message, but my posts on this thread seem to follow through anyhow:

Image

Jan

Yes, Jan, that is what happened to me too. I got the debug notice. I "cut" the post I thought did not go through and pasted it into a new post and added to it... which is why there are those two unfinished posts above.

Something "very energetic" in both a positive and negative sense is going on here tonight. I was mistaken about when I first came across a quote from Feast for Crows. It was not in May but was in March of 2008. I had just been to a concert on the street where I lived and used to walk with Lee in 1962-63. I got an E-mail addressed to one of my AOL screen names which is not the one I use most now. I was very puzzled... because it seemed to have come from some living person who knew a lot about me... but I could not think of any such candidate to do something like that on purpose. Besides, the living person would have to be super psychic.

Anyhow, I switched over to that other screen name while you would have been making these extra posts, and I wound up reading some long sections of Feast of Crows having to do with one character in the story... the one that was named in the original E-mail in March 2008. I am not going to try to figure this out yet... The setting you might say of some of the scenes is rather significant. I should be getting back to sleep. I have some important things to do today and in the evening coming up.

I had an odd thing happen yesterday in connection with Majorca... I was in a store... and there was a pastry with that name connected to it... hmm... kind of freaky I thought... anyhow... it looks like there are many interweaving influences going on here to bring about more understanding of how other identities or entities may affect our thoughts and our emotions and actions usually with our being very unaware of the origin.

I am going to just go back to sleep on all this for some hours... except I need to check on one more thing in your post farther up about the martyred saint... first...

Suzanne

P.S. Jan, See post right below this with paste in from the Feast of Crows about a drowning God and other elements similar to many of your own images lately.

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Post Re: A feast of crows -- and some tears
Junis wrote:
Thanks for sharing, Suzanne.

Read this and somehow some tears came to my eyes. Don't know 'why':

Quote:
But as in the aftermath of any climactic struggle, it is not long before the survivors, outlaws, renegades, and carrion eaters start to gather, picking over the bones of the dead and fighting for the spoils of the soon-to-be dead. Now in the Seven Kingdoms, as the human crows assemble over a banquet of ashes, daring new plots and dangerous new alliances are formed, while surprising faces—some familiar, others only just appearing—are seen emerging from an ominous twilight of past struggles and chaos to take up the challenges ahead.

It is a time when the wise and the ambitious, the deceitful and the strong will acquire the skills, the power, and the magic to survive the stark and terrible times that lie before them. It is a time for nobles and commoners, soldiers and sorcerers, assassins and sages to come together and stake their fortunes...and their lives. For at a feast for crows, many are the guests—but only a few are the survivors.


Best,

Jan

P.S.: the 'seven kingdoms' sound like a symbolic reference to the seven chakras ...


From your quote above:
Quote:
This is the work of Stannis and his red witch, and the savage north- men who worship trees and wolves." She raised her voice. "Good people, your dead shall ...


experienced some synchronicities around the wolf theme and also that of 'north-men' yesterday. The 'red witch' has also been a common feature in recent dreams / synchronicities. Weird.

OK, Jan, here is what I was able to find and copy from Feast of Crows just now before I go back to sleep.

Jan, your saint above was drowned by a ruler. GET THIS NOW. This is from Feast for Crows. Although the first reference to this book came to me in March 2008, I do not usually read this kind of thing and only read a few snippets at the time. Tonight I was able to find some long sections... and found that the words drown or drowned or drowning appeared in it 150 times. Here is an interesting sample:
Quote:
“No.” Aeron Damphair did not weigh his words. “Only a godly man may sit the Seastone
Chair. The Crow’s Eye worships naught but his own pride.”
“You were on Pyke not long ago, and saw the king,” said Goodbrother. “Did Balon say
aught to you of the succession?”
Aye. They had spoken in the Sea Tower, as the wind howled outside the windows and the
waves crashed restlessly below. Balon had shaken his head in despair when he heard
what Aeron had to tell him of his last remaining son. “The wolves have made a weakling
of him, as I feared,” the king had said. “I pray god that they killed him, so he cannot
stand in Asha’s way.” That was Balon’s blindness; he saw himself in his wild, headstrong
daughter, and believed she could succeed him. He was wrong in that, and Aeron tried to
tell him so. “No woman will ever rule the ironborn, not even a woman such as Asha,” he
insisted, but Balon could be deaf to things he did not wish to hear.
Before the priest could answer Gorold Goodbrother, the maester’s mouth flapped open
once again. “By rights the Seastone Chair belongs to Theon, or Asha if the prince is dead.
That is the law.”
“Green land law,” said Aeron with contempt. “What is that to us? We are ironborn, the
sons of the sea, chosen of the Drowned God. No woman may rule over us, nor any
godless man.”
“And Victarion?” asked Gorold Goodbrother. “He has the Iron Fleet. Will Victarion
make a claim, Damphair?”
“Euron is the elder brother . . .” began the maester.
Aeron silenced him with a look. In little fishing towns and great stone keeps alike such a
look from Damphair would make maids feel faint and send children shrieking to their
mothers, and it was more than sufficient to quell the chain-neck thrall. “Euron is elder,”
the priest said, “but Victarion is more godly.”
“Will it come to war between them?” asked the maester.
“Ironborn must not spill the blood of ironborn.”
“A pious sentiment, Damphair,” said Goodbrother, “but not one that your brother shares.
He had Sawane Botley drowned for saying that the Seastone Chair by rights belonged to
Theon.”
“If he was drowned, no blood was shed,” said Aeron.
The maester and the lord exchanged a look. “I must send word to Pyke, and soon,” said
Gorold Goodbrother. “Damphair, I would have your counsel. What shall it be, homage or
defiance?”
Aeron tugged his beard, and thought. I have seen the storm, and its name is Euron
Crow’s Eye. “For now, send only silence,” he told the lord. “I must pray on this.”
“Pray all you wish,” the maester said. “It does not change the law. Theon is the rightful
heir, and Asha next.”
“Silence!” Aeron roared. “Too long have the ironborn listened to you chain-neck
maesters prating of the green lands and their laws. It is time we listened to the sea again.
It is time we listened to the voice of god.” His own voice rang in that smoky hall, so full
of power that neither Gorold Goodbrother nor his maester dared a reply. The Drowned
God is with me, Aeron thought. He has shown me the way.
Goodbrother offered him the comforts of the castle for the night, but the priest declined.
He seldom slept beneath a castle roof, and never so far from the sea. “Comforts I shall
know in the Drowned God’s watery halls beneath the waves. We are born to suffer, that
our sufferings might make us strong. All that I require is a fresh horse to carry me to
Pebbleton.”
That Goodbrother was pleased to provide. He sent his son Greydon as well, to show the
priest the shortest way through the hills down to the sea. Dawn was still an hour off when
they set forth, but their mounts were hardy and surefooted, and they made good time
despite the darkness. Aeron closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, and after a while
began to drowse in the saddle.

Jan, The quote you happened to give is pretty much the theme of so much Lee has to say about our no longer playing the deadly games of the astral lords and ladies, the gods and goddesses... or whatever or whoever in some kind of other reality the entities may be that play around with our personal fates... and why as I said to Ann a couple of years ago... that Lee calls himself "a leader of the peaceful rebellion" to counter this miserable scenario you have been touched by here:

Junis wrote:
Thanks for sharing, Suzanne.

Read this and somehow some tears came to my eyes. Don't know 'why':

Quote:
But as in the aftermath of any climactic struggle, it is not long before the survivors, outlaws, renegades, and carrion eaters start to gather, picking over the bones of the dead and fighting for the spoils of the soon-to-be dead. Now in the Seven Kingdoms, as the human crows assemble over a banquet of ashes, daring new plots and dangerous new alliances are formed, while surprising faces—some familiar, others only just appearing—are seen emerging from an ominous twilight of past struggles and chaos to take up the challenges ahead.

It is a time when the wise and the ambitious, the deceitful and the strong will acquire the skills, the power, and the magic to survive the stark and terrible times that lie before them. It is a time for nobles and commoners, soldiers and sorcerers, assassins and sages to come together and stake their fortunes...and their lives. For at a feast for crows, many are the guests—but only a few are the survivors. END

Suzanne

P.S. Oh GOLLY!!! at 5:39, Jan, You were posting about Vishnu as a sea god-merman while I was posting about the drowned God!

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Post Re: Something Stirring in the LHC? Vishnu as Merman
Jan said:
Quote:
I have recently 'met' this fellow in a BCI:

Vishnu in his incarnation as 'merman':

Image


This is an intense energy, that leads to very freaky 'synchronicities' (actually way beyond mere 'synchronicities'). It also lead me to an image of the 'homo signorum', the zodiacal man of mideval medicine (actually well up into the 18th century; my favorite physician-philosopher Julien Jan Offray de la Mettrie still practised according to 'homo signorum' in the mid 18th century).

The 'error #237' is not a meaningledd coincidence. I have run into #237 after my Pauli dream, and this was kind of in anticipation of #137 synchronicities, which really started to kick in lately. Given the personal circumstances in which #237 manifested, it seems to have something to do with 'pushing it too much' with #137, i.e. intentionally seeking for 'synchronicities'. To put it bluntly. If one really meets up with #137 and doesn't have one's head completely 'cleared' of all 'intent' (intentionality of consciousness -- read Edmund Husserl on that one) one physically dies like Pauli. That is the 'freaky aspect' of it.

I'll post this here as a warning and call for conscious non-intentional awareness chiefly for myself, but maybe also for others who happen to 'pass by'.

Best,

Jan

P.S.: Is something stirring in the LHC?.....

Jan, Here is another section from Feast of Crows:
Quote:
THE DROWNED MAN
Only when his arms and legs were numb from the cold did Aeron Greyjoy struggle back
to shore and don his robes again.
He had run before the Crow’s Eye as if he were still the weak thing he had been, but
when the waves broke over his head they reminded once more that that man was dead. I
was reborn from the sea, a harder man and stronger. No mortal man could frighten him,
no more than the darkness could, nor the bones of his soul, the grey and grisly bones of
his soul. The sound of a door opening, the scream of a rusted iron hinge.
The priest’s robes crackled as he pulled them down, still stiff with salt from their last
washing a fortnight past. The wool clung to his wet chest, drinking the brine that ran
down from his hair. He filled his waterskin and slung it over his shoulder.
As he strode across the strand, a drowned man returning from a call of nature stumbled
into him in the darkness. “Damphair,” he murmured. Aeron laid a hand upon his head,
blessed him, and moved on. The ground rose beneath his feet, gently at first, then more
steeply. When he felt scrub grass between his toes, he knew that he had left the strand
behind. Slowly he climbed, listening to the waves. The sea is never weary. I must be as
tireless.
On the crown of the hill four-and-forty monstrous stone ribs rose from the earth like the
trunks of great pale trees. The sight made Aeron’s heart beat faster. Nagga had been the
first sea dragon, the mightiest ever to rise from the waves. She fed on krakens and
leviathans and drowned whole islands in her wrath, yet the Grey King had slain her and
the Drowned God had changed her bones to stone so that men might never cease to
wonder at the courage of the first of kings. Nagga’s ribs became the beams and pillars of
his longhall, just as her jaws became his throne. For a thousand years and seven he
reigned here, Aeron recalled. Here he took his mermaid wife and planned his wars
against the Storm God. From here he ruled both stone and salt, wearing robes of woven
seaweed and a tall pale crown made from Nagga’s teeth.
But that was in the dawn of days, when mighty men still dwelt on earth and sea. The hall
had been warmed by Nagga’s living fire, which the Grey King had made his thrall. On its
walls hung tapestries woven from silver seaweed most pleasing to the eyes. The Grey
King’s warriors had feasted on the bounty of the sea at a table in the shape of a great
starfish, whilst seated upon thrones carved from mother-of-pearl. Gone, all the glory
gone. Men were smaller now. Their lives had grown short. The Storm God drowned
Nagga’s fire after the Grey King’s death, the chairs and tapestries had been stolen, the
roof and walls had rotted away. Even the Grey King’s great throne of fangs had been
swallowed by the sea. Only Nagga’s bones endured to remind the ironborn of all the
wonder that had been.
It is enough, thought Aeron Greyjoy.
Nine wide steps had been hewn from the stony hilltop. Behind rose the howling hills of
Old Wyk, with mountains in the distance black and cruel. Aeron paused where the doors
once stood, pulled the cork from his waterskin, took a swallow of salt water, and turned
to face the sea. We were born from the sea, and to the sea we must return. Even here he
could hear the ceaseless rumble of the waves and feel the power of the god who lurked
below the waters. Aeron went to his knees. You have sent your people to me, he prayed.
They have left their halls and hovels, their castles and their keeps, and come here to
Nagga’s bones, from every fishing village and every hidden vale. Now grant to them the
wisdom to know the true king when he stands before them, and the strength to shun the
false. All night he prayed, for when the god was in him Aeron Greyjoy had no need of
sleep, no more than the waves did, nor the fishes of the sea.
Dark clouds ran before the wind as the first light stole into the world. The black sky went
grey as slate; the black sea turned grey-green; the black mountains of Great Wyk across
the bay put on the blue-green hues of soldier pines. As color stole back into the world, a
hundred banners lifted and began to flap. Aeron beheld the silver fish of Botley, the
bloody moon of Wynch, the dark green trees of Orkwood. He saw warhorns and
leviathans and scythes, and everywhere the krakens great and golden. Beneath them,
thralls and salt wives begin to move about, stirring coals into new life and gutting fish for
the captains and the kings to break their fasts. The dawnlight touched the stony strand,
and he watched men wake from sleep, throwing aside their sealskin blankets as they
called for their first horn of ale. Drink deep, he thought, for we have god’s work to do
today.
The sea was stirring too. The waves grew larger as the wind rose, sending plumes of
spray to crash against the longships. The Drowned God wakes, thought Aeron. He could
hear his voice welling from the depths of the sea. I shall be with you here this day, my
strong and faithful servant, the voice said. No godless man will sit my Seastone Chair.
It was there beneath the arch of Nagga’s ribs that his drowned men found him, standing
tall and stern with his long black hair blowing in the wind. “Is it time?” Rus asked. Aeron
gave a nod, and said, “It is. Go forth and sound the summons.”
The drowned men took up their driftwood cudgels and began to beat them one against the
other as they walked back down the hill. Others joined them, and the clangor spread
along the strand. Such a fearful clacking and a clattering it made, as if a hundred trees
were pummeling one another with their limbs. Kettledrums began to beat as well, boomboom-boom-boom-boom, boom-boom-boom-boom-boom. A warhorn bellowed, then another. AAAAAAoooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Men left their fires to make their way toward the bones of the Grey King’s Hall; oarsmen,
steersmen, sailmakers, shipwrights, the warriors with their axes and the fishermen with
their nets. Some had thralls to serve them; some had salt wives. Others, who had sailed
too often to the green lands, were attended by maesters and singers and knights. The
common men crowded together in a crescent around the base of the knoll, with the
thralls, children, and women toward the rear. The captains and the kings made their way
up the slopes. Aeron Damphair saw cheerful Sigfry Stonetree, Andrik the Unsmiling, the
knight Ser Harras Harlaw. Lord Baelor Blacktyde in his sable cloak stood beside The
Stonehouse in ragged sealskin. Victarion loomed above all of them save Andrik. His
brother wore no helm, but elsewise he was all in armor, his kraken cloak hanging golden
from his shoulders. He shall be our king. What man could look on him and doubt it?
When the Damphair raised his bony hands the kettledrums and the warhorns fell silent,
the drowned men lowered their cudgels, and all the voices stilled. Only the sound of the
waves pounding remained, a roar no man could still. “We were born from the sea, and to
the sea we all return,” Aeron began, softly at first, so men would strain to hear. “The
Storm God in his wrath plucked Balon from his castle and cast him down, yet now he
feasts beneath the waves in the Drowned God’s watery halls.” He lifted his eyes to the
sky. “Balon is dead! The iron king is dead!”
“The king is dead!” his drowned men shouted.
“Yet what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!” he reminded
them. “Balon has fallen, Balon my brother, who honored the Old Way and paid the iron
price. Balon the Brave, Balon the Blessed, Balon Twice-Crowned, who won us back our
freedoms and our god. Balon is dead . . . but an iron king shall rise again, to sit upon the
Seastone Chair and rule the isles.”
“A king shall rise!” they answered. “He shall rise!”
“He shall. He must.” Aeron’s voice thundered like the waves. “But who? Who shall sit in
Balon’s place? Who shall rule these holy isles? Is he here among us now?” The priest
spread his hands wide. “Who shall be king over us?”
A seagull screamed back at him. The crowd began to stir...

Well, Jan, I would prefer that this story line transmute into something that would go along more with this image instead... the goddess and the dragon as partners who rescue drowning humanity... however, not as separate ruling beings over us but as the compassionate and composed ourselves within us.

Image

You asked: P.S.: Is something stirring in the LHC?.....

Here's the latest hot news on that:

Past 24 hours
Search Results

1.
Iron Man 2 Fact Check: Yes, You Can Build a Particle Accelerator ...

FOXNews - Erin McCarthy - 20 hours ago
"Particle accelerators have been in the zeitgeist for a couple of years now because of the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) in Switzerland," says Todd Satogata, ...

FOXNews
2.
A Practical Guide to Managing a Virtual Data Center

eWeek - Cameron Sturdevant - 9 hours ago
Developers are likely to be the IT equivalent of the Large Hadron Collider. Instead of universe-building materials, developer use of virtualization can ...
The Perilous State of Virtualization Security‎ - Virtualization Review (blog)
all 2 news articles »
3.
McGill profs cut data down to size

Montreal Gazette - Trevor Hanna - 4 hours ago
The ATLAS detector at the Large Hadron Collider generates that much data in ... The Large Hadron Collider - as the most powerful particle accelerator ever ...
4.
Cloud Computing Comes to HPC

Scientific Computing - Steve Conway - 19 hours ago
CERN, home of the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), is developing a mega computing cloud to distribute data to scientists around the world (the LHC churns out 1 ...
LHC big bang project expects new exotic findings‎ - Vancouver Sun
all 2 news articles »
Scientific Computing
5.
How To Build A Time Machine

Gizmodo Australia - Rosa Golijan - 8 hours ago
... building a time machine isn't hard: “All you need is a wormhole, the Large Hadron Collider or a rocket that goes really, really fast. ...
6.
Why We Could All Use a Heavy Dose of Techno-optimism

Vanity Fair - Jason Silva - 18 hours ago
The Large Hadron Collider is only the latest example of mankind's magnificent undertakings. We must not be afraid to push boundaries; instead we should ...
7.
Washington, We Have a Problem | Peer to Peer Review

Library Journal - 17 hours ago
... that was the rumor about the Large Hadron Collider, the one that didn't destroy the universe after all, but instead sustained serious damage thanks to a ...

Large Hadron Collider News

Jan, you added this image while I was doing the LHD search and getting the additional Feast of Crows quotes:

Full Moon in Leo Waxing Strong

Image


What can I say? This image you gave absolutely fits with Lee's recent messages that indicate he and his group as you put it are watching over you and provided as well another 137 meaningful coincidence. He was a Leo by "sign" by the way. A lighthouse shows up at 1:37 in the video I mentioned to you in private message that resulted quite some days ago. I was delayed in posting more about that because some of the Owl City inferences so directly referenced him that my daughter was astonished when she saw them step by step on a computer. She said it was kind of like the ultimate evidence yet. Oh well, this time I have to really behave about over active energies and go into the silent drowsy mode and get a sustained period of sleep. At some point I will figure out how to post the video with the lighthouse over on the Blog minus the other references to him that would be too revealing.

Looks like you need to leave a link to the video you intended to show... nothing is there in that spot.

Suzanne

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Post Hungry Ghosts, 33 Eggs
Suzanne, Jan,

Just a thought on sex and union. There is a class of beings in Mahayana Buddhism called Hungry Ghosts, who inhabit one of the six worlds on the Buddhist Wheel of Life. They are dead humans who suffer because they still have desires, but no means to satisfy them. They sometimes seek to enter a living consciousness in order to achieve this. One researcher into past-life regression came to believe that the spirit guides he was working with were precisely such entities. I think the writer was Joe Fisher. Basically he found that the female guide he was communicating with claimed to be his soul mate, and to have known him in many previous lives. When he investigated her claims, he found that there was a kernel of truth combined with a mass of historical innacuracies. He also found that his obsession with his guide was interfering with his life - I think that it broke up his relationship with his girlfriend. In the end, he broke away from the group involved, and reached the conclusions that I have outlined.

This would contradict many accounts given of conditions of the dead, who are sometimes described as having expanded sensory experience. There are probably many alternative states that can be experienced, but maybe the Hungry Ghosts are bound to Logos ego attitudes, and attracted to the living in a similar condition. There is some similarity to incubus/succubus interaction as well.

Regarding your 33 eggs, I have just remembered a book I read some time ago, Jan - 'Crystal Yoga 1', by Roger Calverley. Following work with Incan shamans, he creates a system involving 33 crystals. These are collected as a Crystal Mesa, a sort of medicine bag. The crystals correspond to archetypal realities, and are carefully chosen. They are then used in ritual and meditation. As far as I can tell, 33 is the sacred tradtional number for this. The book is available online on Google:-
http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=oAmh ... &q&f=false

Best,

Patrick

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Post Re: Hungry Ghosts & not feeding them
Patrick Booker wrote:
Suzanne, Jan,

Just a thought on sex and union. There is a class of beings in Mahayana Buddhism called Hungry Ghosts, who inhabit one of the six worlds on the Buddhist Wheel of Life. They are dead humans who suffer because they still have desires, but no means to satisfy them. They sometimes seek to enter a living consciousness in order to achieve this. One researcher into past-life regression came to believe that the spirit guides he was working with were precisely such entities. I think the writer was Joe Fisher. Basically he found that the female guide he was communicating with claimed to be his soul mate, and to have known him in many previous lives. When he investigated her claims, he found that there was a kernel of truth combined with a mass of historical innacuracies. He also found that his obsession with his guide was interfering with his life - I think that it broke up his relationship with his girlfriend. In the end, he broke away from the group involved, and reached the conclusions that I have outlined.

Suzanne comments: I agree pretty much with the above cautions. Spirit guides can be very deceptive and controlling. They can SUCK the life force, the free will, and eventually all sanity and morality out of their victims. It starts out nice and winds up nasty. The fundamentalists correctly warn about this devilish aspect of many New Agers supposed angels/guides/etc... the trouble about that though is that many of the born-agains have their own devils posing as inspirations from the "holy spirit" to persecute and war against rather than love thy enemies.

This would contradict many accounts given of conditions of the dead, who are sometimes described as having expanded sensory experience. There are probably many alternative states that can be experienced, but maybe the Hungry Ghosts are bound to Logos ego attitudes, and attracted to the living in a similar condition. There is some similarity to incubus/succubus interaction as well.

JUST replying to the above part for now... rest taken out... Suzanne
Patrick

Hi Patrick, I got back from the store after 3. There was a private message waiting for me from Jan. I started replying to that before I saw your post maybe a half hour later. Bang, my computer shut down, but my Firefox browser had retained my entire private message reply that might have been lost. Here is part of it since this is not private in the personal sense.

Suzanne

To: Junis/Jan
Posted: Sat May 08, 2010 3:48 pm

I will take a look at the English version of that "protection" book in awhile. Just got back from store. Soon I can be more open about distinguishing between negative and positive synchronicities. Not everything we are led to is something that is good for us.

Lee and I keep it simple when we are going through realms and confronting evil nasty entities or other scary stuff. Bless and do not curse... we say that in regard to everyone... including Crowley recently... not embracing them in alliance... but encountering them without fear or antagonism. No warring with them whatsoever... THAT would only feed them. They can do know (interesting mistake in retrospect with know instead of no) harm when there is no hook in us to which they can attach themselves.

A few days ago I had an episode of extreme fear when seeing an inner flying saucer land... I can explain more about that later... but that scene later ended with the two trains meeting like the image I posted on one of the threads. A psychic reader who supposedly channelled comments from Lee to my daughter described a great transition of consciousness about to take place so that many from both realms can now meet together. She has not had the opportunity yet to type those up from her handwritten notes.

Clicking quickly... almost completely lost this! END

Suzanne

P.S. to Patrick... The book you linked to has a very specific and amusing synchronicity in regard to the One and Only. I will take a closer and longer look at more in the book later on.

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Sun May 09, 2010 7:37 pm
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Post Synchronicities - Unicorn Tapestry & Train Whistle
Junis wrote:
Hi Suzanne, hi Patrick,

USING ONLY THIS PART OF JAN"S POST:

Like this one can relate to love as a force in 'nature' (#137) rather than as a valuables in the possession of the human heart (that desire aspect comes in again here). In my unicorn BCI all the desires of my five senses were 'unified' into a sixth desire for the sole service of divinity represented by the magic blue horn of the unicorn (mon seul désir). This is a 16th century tapestry (I am not so interested in the orthodox Christian interpretation of the iconography, and take the liberty to fill the symbols with my own vegetative realization -- F.e. I am just starting to genuinely understand the 'meaning' of the three moons on the flags):

Image

Hi Jan, For a couple of weeks, I have been helping a child with a book report. I did not realize until this week that the book is about the image you posted above since I was not actually reading or hearing the story myself. Here is the cover image:

Image

Here is a synopsis and description of the story from a Barnes and Noble website:

Synopsis

In this exciting new Merlin Mission, Jack and Annie go back in time to New York City, during one of the darkest periods in the city's history--the Great Depression. Even worse, the city is in the grip of a terrible snowstorm. To stop the blizzard, Jack and Annie must save the unicorn made famous in the Cloister's medieval tapestries. But will that be enough to help a city that faces so many troubles?

Children's Literature

Merlin has sent Jack and Annie on another important mission. This time the tree house lands in New York City's Central Park in 1938 towards the end of the Great Depression. Their objective is to rescue a very special magical creature—Merlin's unicorn. The only problems, at first, are the brewing blizzard, solving their riddle, and their one-day time limit. During their search, they experience New York City treasures such as Belvedere Castle, the subway system, and the Metropolitan Museum's Cloisters. At the Cloisters they discover priceless tapestries donated by John D. Rockefeller and there they find, large as life, the spellbound Unicorn. They also find more problems. Apprentices of the Dark Wizard are there as well and are trying to release the unicorn into their care. With some fast thinking and a little help from their spell book, Jack and Annie deliver their charge back to its rightful owner. Another fine read from Mary Pope Osborne filled with historical facts and endless imagination all rolled into one magical package.

... I will add something to this in a few minutes... It's 12:24 PM...

Another Jan-Suzanne synchronicity about A Whistling Train

I can see the date for this one over on the large calendar on our dining room wall. Saturday May 8, 2010 at 7 PM... till about 10:30 PM. I was visiting some kids I used to nanny years ago. First let's take a look at the lyrics of the song Jan posted the next afternoon (Sunday, my time) as a video above:

500 Miles Lyrics

If you miss the train Im on
You will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow
A hundred miles
A hundred miles, a hundred miles
A hundred miles, a hundred miles
You can hear the whistle blow
A hundred miles

Lord, Im one, Lord, Im two
Lord, Im three, Lord, Im four
Lord, Im five hundred miles away from home
Away from home, away from home
Away from home, away from home
Lord, Im five hundred miles
Away from home

Not a shirt on my back
Not a penny to my name
Lord, I cant go back home this a-way
This a-away, this a-way
This a-way, this a-way
Lord, I cant go back home
This a-way

---- Instrumental Interlude ----

If you miss the train Im on
You will know that I am gone
You can hear the whistle blow
A hundred miles
A hundred miles, a hundred miles
A hundred miles, a hundred miles
You can hear the whistle blow
A hundred miles
You can hear the whistle blow
A hundred miles

END

The boy at that home had a clock on his wall I had never seen before. It was of a black steam engine. Much to my sudden surprise, when the time hit the hour, the chime was exactly like an old fashioned train whistle. Here is a similar enough image:

Image

It is interesting that these two "meaningful coincidences" involved children below the age of ten. I'll be posting a lot more about synchronicities over on the Ann-Suzanne Blog over the next few days. I am starting with a poster today about the June reunion at Swannanoa of folks interested in the teachings of Walter and Lao Russell who we have discussed many times on this forum. The actual theme this year is:

DIVINE SYNCHRONICITY

Being the Flow through 2012


LINK: http://unus-mundus.fr/viewtopic ... 0315#10315


Suzanne

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Wed May 12, 2010 5:24 pm
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Post The Traveller
I couldn't resist posting this beautiful song that I loved in my youth, when I discovered it again on on YouTube:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v9mt5ODJ ... re=channel

I saw Ralph McTell at concerts several times in the 1970s, and I think that this is his masterpiece. Based on Hermann Hesse's novel 'Siddhartha', it touches upon the essential passage of the soul, whether seen as the crossing of a river or a bridge.

Or just enjoy it as a great song.

Patrick

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Fri May 14, 2010 12:31 am
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Post 33 in the trees
Hi Jan, & all...

Is it just me?

Image

To quote from one of Jan's posts...

"Now I believe the 'meaning' of this near death experience (no sure it would qualify as one) was, that I needed to see the two trees in the one (maybe also the bipolarity of the energy term), but more bluntly the tree of life and the tree of death waiting for me in the beyond. In between a 'life course' unravels in time, the fourth dimension. The alchemical opus, most notably its shamanic aspect, proffers the possiblity to place oneself consciously inbetween the two trees and serve as a 'living bridge'."


Kind regards,
pb


Fri May 14, 2010 6:56 pm
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Sun Aug 01, 2010 1:41 pm

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Location: canada
Post ...in wait
Hi Jan,

thanks for this.

I am maintaining a state of non-attachment as best I can.

One thing I can say about time is that I hope to have a long 'career' contemplating death. I've experienced either psychosis or 'nous' and I am trying to find out - in due time. Either way, this has been transformational and that is what matters.

I'm getting now that the sense of someone / something dying is an outer 'form' of this concern. It's happening INSIDE - and it's a good thing.

"every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief - all kill their inspiration, and see about the grief" -bono (who I don't quote every day, that's for sure)


pascal

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Sat Aug 07, 2010 3:41 pm
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Post McKenna
Hi Jan,

I want to add one comment to my comment 8)

Perhaps that psychosis or numinous experience are one in the same - an insight I gained while studying some of McKenna's material.

If God 'cannot' be apprehended, this makes sense that the general pop sees IT as nutty.

I can relate to straddling the line of opposites - maybe even in terms of a Taoist perspective. (cutting off the head, Jan?) T

I'd say 'we're' either 90% 'correct' and 10% off the 'ole rocker - or 90% off the 'ole rocker and 10% 'correct'. I'd even go so far as to say that this perspective changes all day long.

A Biblical 'day'... which seems reminiscent of a yin / yang symbol doing its rotation...or that 'swing thing'.

Kind regards,
pb

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Fri Aug 27, 2010 6:11 pm
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