Illuminati mind control 101

Illusion delusion illumination and confusion.

I admit frankly to going through a mystical sequence  and am happy to say that I’ve still got a full set of marbles and all screws are still fully tightened. However it took a lot of luck to get me through it. But when I look at the word ‘luck’ I find it way too small and casual a word to really describe how I feel about having escaped from the darkened underworld into the light of true awareness. The word ‘grace’ seems a little better, but that too has negative associations of being part of God’s chosen elite or something.
I will freely admit that for one brief moment I entertained the possibility that maybe I was ‘dead’. 

In my disordered state I imagined that perhaps a lot of what had subsequently happened was not real but the result of a kind of purgatory. Many puzzling and seemingly miraculous things had happened to me during the years, strange and unaccountable coincidences which at the time seemed rather cool but looking back at them in my new state I wondered if perhaps they had been too good to be true, and that is they too were somehow part of some unreal fantasy that I have been involved in without quite knowing it.

One time I had arranged to go to the Phoenix festival in 1996 with my girlfriend but my ticket had somehow disappeared, I since learned that a rather unpleasant flatmate had stolen it, but to be honest, even his act of thievery helped me find the way to something extraordinary. Searching desperately around the flat the ticket was nowhere to be found but my girlfriend was all ready to leave and so it could be put off no longer and off we drove down to the festival. We arrived, somewhat perplexed about my ticketless state and there seemed to be none available to buy at the site. We camped up because fortunately the camp site and access to the festival ground itself was in a separate area and my ticket was required only to enter the music arena. So we hung around, while time ticked on, the festival had started it appeared that I would miss Frank Sidebottom. Another band I really liked ‘Gene’ were due to play and it appeared they too would be missed. My girlfriend and her friends started getting restless and said that they would have to go into the festival, they had been very sympathetic to my plight but they had to start enjoying their weekend. I got up from our camping spot and decided to go on a disconsolate little wander around the campsite, not quite knowing why or where I was going, I imagined that by the time I got back my friends would be in the festival and at least they would be having a good time. So I wandered around and saw something shiny on the ground, I had that feeling when you maybe find a £5 note, you can’t quite understand what it’s doing there and you can’t quite believe it, but all the same you pick it up and put it in your pocket. I kicked at this shiny thing on the ground and stooped to turn it over. It was two full tickets to the Phoenix festival. This was strange! At this moment in time I became convinced of a deeper hidden significance to life and that this was no mere coincidence. I returned to the tent with the tickets to the delight of my friends. I promptly sold one of the tickets to a tout and made enough money to ensure we would have a great weekend. One of my friends observed sagely ‘it looks like this is your festival!’ Not only that but I arrived in perfect timing to see Gene and not only that but it turned out that Frank Sidebottom has rescheduled his appearance to the following day.

It really was ‘my festival’. It was almost as if, going for that aimless stroll around the tents I had asked a question or searched for a sign and one had arrived just in time.

There are two subsequent times when I had asked for a sign and they too had duly arrived. One was sat in a cinema in France with my then French girlfriend and we were watching a film. I was feeling a little insecure about the future and my own life, I didn’t have a job nor could see much hope of any kind of meaningful profession for myself; I used to suffer from occasional bouts of melancholy and would need something to set me off in the right direction again. So I stared at the screen and was surprised to see my own name and surname appear on the screen in front of me as part of the film plot. It was a kind of message that you are in the right place at the right time. Always an encouraging thought.

A similar thing happened when I was about to start university again to complete a post graduate course. I was standing exactly on the corner of a certain crossroads in London I again felt this trepidation for the future and this irrational worry that maybe I had not made the best of my life so far and that I had missed some opportunity here or there. The kind of existential worries we all have I suppose. Though I used to take them to extremes and get quiet upset by such irrational thoughts, and so I asked God for a sign. I walked a few meters and looked up and saw my own name, Christian AND surname, written as the name of the estate agents. It was weird, but proved beyond reasonable doubt that the science of coincidence surpasses by far our limited understanding.

I took this as a friendly sign from some pan dimensional power. Hopefully God or someone close to him. But I hardly think I got carried away in this instance. I mean, if you had asked for a sign and at that very moment you look up to find a variation of your own name just in front of you, you might be forgiven for feeling a little bit excited and rather happy. And so this is how I seek to live my life, with an awareness that God or something positive, is watching over me and trying to connect to me on some level. I would be reluctant to totally connect with this unknown force while on earth because it would make life rather a strange experience, I think perhaps this is what happens during the ‘gnosis’ experience, that basically your consciousness breaks through to the other side (to paraphrase Jim Morrison) but , since my rather frightening and uncomfortable ‘gnosis’ adrenochrome experience, I feel that this is not a state we should reach for while alive and living in physical material bodies. 

I feel that although earth is a fairly interesting place with plenty of potential and lots going on, it is not a very spiritually aware place and the first place a fully spiritually enlightened person would end up would be, if they were lucky, a psychiatric home, if unlucky, torn apart by the mob. Though perhaps times are finally changing. With people like David Icke who, although famously publicly ridiculed on live TV in front of millions, he was torn apart by the mob but he survived the experience to now become a potent force for a new generation of truth seekers who are actually willing to hear strange and unlikely sounding stories, and look at the evidence, rather than let a robotised TV brain dictate their reality. One thing is for sure. We want better and, maybe, if we are willing to open our minds to new possibilities, we might get it.

What I learned in this state was that I was far from being the only one to exist in some kind of ongoing delusional state. It takes one to know one as they say and with my changed brain chemistry I became aware that the world is quite a different place to what I had hitherto believed.

The thousand daily symbols and signs we walk past everyday and think nothing of, now shone and burned with a dark and sinister significance. For example, I noticed the logo on ‘3’ mobile phone and something dawned on me. Why did my phone have a 666 sigil on it? How long had I lived in a world in which the Biblical mark of the Beast was right under our noses and I hadn’t noticed it before? My new awareness wasn’t restricted to noticing symbols around me, but something else had happened and I noticed that in this new perceptual world I wasn’t alone. Some very strange things started happening and suddenly I found myself living in a Jason Bourne style wonderland. I went out of the house for a jog through London, as I passed through the financial city I went down an alley way nearby the main offices of Merrill Lynch, I stopped to catch my breath and suddenly three suited business men turned to face me as I walked down the alley, looking straight at me they said in unison ‘Join us!’. No joking. I knew they were masons because prior to this my tutor had put pressure on me to join the masons. I had been told I ‘wasn’t square enough’. I knew what this meant because since my adventures in Japan I had learned to recognise Masonic key words and insinuations. In retrospect I managed to make sense of all this, just as I had made sense of the strange indoctrination course in the remote French village, but at the time, having people I’d never met before in the street directly addressing me to ‘join them’ was rather surprising and I wondered what strange parallel universe I had strayed into.

During the daylight hours my new ‘illuminated’ consciousness seemed to have few drawbacks, I felt slightly trippy and as I said reality had suddenly become a lot more uncertain and unpredictable. Total strangers would appear in the street and suddenly ask me questions, it was weird. People would also look at me and wink knowingly. If I didn’t know better I would say I had entered some kind of communal consciousness, and in the London streets on the outskirts of the financial city, there were a lot of fellow Masonic inmates with whom I was now sharing my new reality. It was very weird. A shopkeeper would see me passing and make a private sign of acknowledgement to me. I’d never seen the man in my life but apparently we had something in common.

Like the film Fight Club, where the nameless Edward Norton character sees total strangers in distant cities acknowledging him and cannot understand it, this is exactly what it’s like to enter the freemason domain. When your consciousness undergoes the change in perception there must be some undetectable character trait or mannerism, or even a way you walk, that makes you recognisable by your brothers. Personally speaking, as a private person who values his individuality, I wasn’t quite sure I fancied the idea of suddenly being a part of this secret community within a community, particularly as one of the things I liked about London was its ability for one to remain anonymous and vanish into part of the crowd. 

I am someone who can think of nothing worse than having neighbours one is obliged to talk to everyday and people who notice your comings and goings. However it seems that certain members of this group, people you’ve never met before in your life, know as much about your private business as you yourself do, as I found in Tokyo when my employer would hold imaginary phone conversations in the next room mentioning things about me and my life while pretending it had nothing to do with me. Subsequently while working at a Catholic school some months later another mason was talking aloud to no one in particular, but was using coded language and advising me to join the masons, he said: ‘we know all about you so you’d better join or else’ without actually addressing me specifically. Again I had never met the man before, but it seemed my reputation proceeds me wherever these creepy crawly masons are lurking about. In another school a mason addressed me and cryptically asked me: ‘are you a rebel of are you part of the Empire?’. Of course I answered ‘I’m a rebel’ and he said ‘well I’m part of the Empire.’ I didn't know if this was an attempt at intimidation of some kind, but it was genuinely difficult to be intimidated by this rather disgusting and fruity looking fat man who could well have been the local school paedophile. There was something disturbing about the fruity smile that played on his face whenever he was near the kids.

So anyway my life had generally been rather strange for at least 10 years, with strange and unaccountable occurrences and some often inexplicable things happening to me. And so in seeking to explain what was happening to me these two films: Vanilla Sky and Jacob’s Ladder seemed to offer something like an explanation. Vanilla Sky is near identical to Jacob’s Ladder but instead of merely offering the solution to the riddle that weird things are happening to you, things which go against what most people consider ‘reality’ therefore you are no longer living in reality, in fact you are dead but don’t know it yet, it suggests a radical solution. I will not attempt to disguise the fact that as a result of the Masonic attention and the mystical enlightenment I had undergone, I would say I had entered a borderline psychotic state. As I have previously endeavoured to show, the mystical Illumination and result of Masonic initiation is the psychotic schizoid state due to the excess production of adrenalin by the body which becomes adrenochrome as it breaks down in the body.

Vanilla Sky features a character played by Tom Cruise who is successful and generally envied by his friends until one day, his girlfriend decides to drive her car with Aames inside, off a bridge in a fit of jealous rage, leaving him terribly disfigured. His life becomes a nightmare without his good looks and he slips into despair, until one day he wakes up to find the girl he loves take him in hand and say she wants to help him. However the reality around him starts to break-down, he hears voices, music playing in his head, people act strangely and even people transform into other people while he is with them. Ok. Like Jacob’s Ladder, some of his symptoms such as hearing and seeing things which are not there, and reading too much into his environment and making erroneous connections are all symptoms of a psychotic episode or schizophrenia. In particular Jake Singer from Jacob’s Ladder is enrolled in a programme of veteran care, is it not more reasonable to assume that his odd hallucinations are the result of post traumatic stress disorder rather than the result of him being dead and trapped in purgatory?

There is a curious branch of ancient Greek philosophy called Solipsism whose main contention is that the there is no objective way to prove the existence of anything else in the world apart from yourself. That one can only be sure of oneself and that the whole reality around could be some kind of unreal fantasy. This train of thought has been attacked and discredited over the years of course because it is very close to a dangerously psychotic line of reasoning, but the fact remains that if you tell yourself that all of the stimuli available to the bodily sense may also be faked and could equally be a fantasy, then the imperviousness of this delusion would be complete. Someone in the grip of such a line of thought, who believed everyone else was fake and didn’t really exist, would be total.


So the solution offered to someone who may be having slightly unusual experiences and indeed may be developing schizophrenia, as outlined in the film Vanilla Sky, would be to run around shouting out ‘Tech Support’ at the top of your voice, before convincing yourself that none of your friends are real and throwing yourself of a tall building. Anyone who has researched schizophrenia to some small degree will know that death by jumping from high buildings is the most common cause of suicide amongst schizophrenics.

John Joyce and Simon Fleminger in their research paper entitled Suicide Attempts by Jumping found that from the period of September 1990 to November 1994 there were 962 admissions to the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel via the London Air Ambulance. Of these 77 were identified as being involved in some form of self-harm of these a large proportion: 61, self harmed though jumping from a height, 51 already had case notes and a history of various psychological disturbances. In their study a clear link is drawn between psychological disturbances and suicide attempts by jumping.

Indeed, research carried out by the university hospital of psychiatry in Bern Switzerland, indicates that:
“Persons who jumped from heights in general were more likely to suffer from schizophrenia than those who used other methods.”

In the film Vanilla Sky we see how David Aames becomes convinced that neither Doctor McCabe nor his friend Brian Shelby are real. There is no doubt that this is a relatively common schizoid delusion which leads him to throw himself from the top of a very tall building in order to end the virtual reality programme he his involved in. Such a line of delusion, that someone is involved in a ‘virtual reality’ simulation of one kind or another has always been a common symptom of schizophrenia. Some schizophrenics think they are ‘dead’ or in a hell of some kind, usually this thought comes to them as a result of guilt about something they did or something that was done to them in the past and which they find impossible to put behind them. They often believe they are being punished in some way. I spoke to schizophrenia sufferers on the streets of Brighton and found this attitude that they feel they have been ‘bad people’ and that they somehow deserve to be on the streets as part of their purgatory. It is very very hard to break such a way of thinking, particularly as the human brain tends to select the evidence in the world around them to suit and support the conclusions they have already reached. 

For example, somebody who thinks all men are pigs or a person who had been hurt by women, will actively search for examples which fit their prejudices in order to make them feel correct in their beliefs. Other evidence which does not suit their ideas will either not be noticed or be discarded as anomalous. Not only this but you must surely have noticed that if you are feeling insecure or a little sensitive, then suddenly the world seems more threatening and dangerous. Or conversely, if you’re in love then the world suddenly appears a much more sympathetic place and wherever you look you see only happy couples and happy contented people. If you’re happy you attract good things, if you’re feeling depressed or down you will attract things which will only deepen your condition. Some people call this ‘the law of attraction’, and it is true to some extent that we do create our own reality. On one level this is nearly a mystical phenomenon which defies explanation by our current scientific methods, on another level it is totally obvious that say a happy friendly person has more chance of making friends and living in a happier reality than say a depressed and reserved person has of making new friends and meeting people.

So my question is what is the purpose of making films like this? Let’s forget the science fiction storyline for a minute because virtual reality of the type simply doesn’t exist, but mental illnesses where crazed maniacs suffocate their girlfriends (as in the Tom Cruise film Vanilla Sky) because they don’t recognise them anymore, DO exist.

Or people running through public places shouting ‘I wanna wake-up!’ or ‘It’s a nightmare!’ or other seemingly incoherent rantings, also exist. Is this film a hidden way of managing potentially dangerous schizophrenics by encouraging them to kill themselves and hence no longer be a danger to society. Who knows? It seems unlikely perhaps so there may be a second possibility for the sudden trend in these odd sort of metaphysical films.

The effect on myself of these films was to prime me for the Luciferian awareness of the masons. In particular a scene from Vanilla Sky is one of the key scenes and is the first time the viewer and indeed David Aames himself, become aware that things are really not as they seem at all. At this point the viewer still doesn’t know about the virtual reality world he is trapped in since signing up with the Life Extension corporation (whose curious jingle ‘I have the universe inside me’ evokes many of the metaphysical beliefs of many of the world’s cults and Gnostic mystery religions). What we see in this scene takes place on two levels simultaneously, the character Edmund Ventura (played by Noah Taylor) is ‘tech support’ for the lucid dream which Aames is involved in. Ventura introduces himself in the quasi mystical manner of the new-age self-help guru. 

It is as if we the viewer are being addressed directly by Ventura, and the viewer awaits this moment as the great unveiling that will finally explain what has been happening all along, not just to Aames but perhaps, to certain of us who have had encounters with strange metaphysical events and Masonic theatrics:

‘You must overcome your fears, regain control, take a hold of your life again.. What if I were to tell you that you can take control of all of this, everything? Even me. David look at all these people, seems as though they’re just all chatting away, doesn’t it? Nothing to do with you? And yet, Maybe they’re only here because you wanted them to be here you are their God! not only that but you can make them obey you, or even destroy you.’

It seems clear that Venture is trying to implant a delusion in Aames mind. Again I would ask you not to accept the plotline of a futuristic technology which can create an artificial reality because this is simply a fantasy, but instead, ask yourself, in the similar manner of Jacob’s Ladder and the soldier traumatised by war and having strange hallucinations, look at what elements of this situation could be real and stage managed for various purposes. While I lived in Tokyo and was being recruited to join the freemasons and also become a spy as detailed in a chapter 3, I would also find that I was more or less constantly shadowed. I would often go into an empty bar or restaurant, and within about 10 minutes I would have people sitting all around me, or if in a bar, the place would suddenly fill with people who seemed to be watching me. It happened so consistently and repeatedly that it wasn’t mere coincidence but it was an example of Masonic targeting and shadowing of selected individuals. 

If you can accept my claim that I was being recruited by the secret services then it stands to reason that the first thing they would do would be to be aware of my movements and secondly, to give me the feeling that I no longer had any privacy in order that I eventually learn to police myself and act with the discretion required of a spy. This is what they do and forms just a part of their overall training of secret operatives. They have to convince the spy that everything they do is watched and that they can have no secrets from the organisation they are working for.

Could not the above scene be recreated with Masonic operatives filling the restaurant and could not the character of Ventura be a Masonic recruitment agent. Particularly if Aames’ movements were fairly regular and he tended to visit the same bars, it would be quite a simple thing for a group to gradually descend on the restaurant and give the impression of being discrete and unconnected individuals but in fact they had all been called to this restaurant in order to initiate this character Aames into a new form of consciousness. Namely the consciousness that ‘you are a God’. This is how they do things and have always done it since the earliest mystery cults. 

They implant delusions and because of the power of the human brain, what a person sincerely believes with all their heart and soul becomes totally real for them. I have no doubt that the Kings of Europe and before them the Roman Emperors, but particularly the ancient Egyptian Pharaohs, underwent a similar experience which changed their outlook of the nature of reality and made them become convinced that they were Gods. Many schizophrenics believe they have God like power, and the distortions of reality which the misfiring neurons in their mind produce, convince them this is true. But what of the ancient Egyptians and Kings who actually possessed the genuine temporal power over hundreds of thousands of humans, would not it be almost difficult to believe that they weren’t special in some way?

But how far does this go today? What about Presidents and Prime-Ministers, even film stars and pop singers. Do they secretly harbour delusions of grandeur which explain their exalted status?

Do some of these stars of our world share the same problem as Tom Cruise’s character who admits ‘I don’t know what’s real!’? Are our leaders living in a world of their own ‘made-to-order’ delusions? Does this explain why a person like George W Bush can claim to speak to God and work for him? Just how nutty are these people?

‘Can you tell the difference between dreams and reality?’ Dr McCabe asks Aames, again this is a common symptom of schizophrenia. McCabe is, quite reasonably, treating Aames as if he were a schizophrenic. Which without the futuristic storyline of virtual reality, is exactly what he appears to be. So again, any schizophrenics watching this movie, particularly the moment when Ventura seems to directly address the audience, may find themselves following the further suggestions in the film, to the final moment of the film where the only way to resolve their problem and get rid of their symptoms is to face what Ventura calls the ‘true moment of choice’ and kill themselves and ‘wake up’ to the ultimate and more authentic reality.

What got me through the madness was a combination of things, primarily the awareness that something strange had happened to my mind and that if something in me has changed then there was no reason it couldn't be changed back. My dabbling with LSD as a student at university told me that somehow my body was producing dopamine and psychoactive compounds. At one point I thought I was being spiked by someone but I cast that idea away as being truly paranoid and I got smart and am here hanging around to expose the weird masons and their creepy mind-fuck techniques.  

Mind Control: A personal story.

The first steps on a very strange trail.

I have rather a privileged and fortunate position regarding my ability to comment on the cult known as freemasonry and the social control collective known as the Illuminati.  My family on my father’s side have the cursed royal blood originating from the Yorkshire based Fitzwilliam family at Wentworth. This was something that my nana always went on about, and how someone told her father that our family would always be ‘looked after’, needless to say like so many promises from those in the establishment and in a position to confer unlimited wealth, it never materialised. And so I forgot all about our aristocratic pretensions until some very strange things started happening to me.

Looking back on this period in my life feels like Alice returning to the Wonderland, albeit rather a frightened and uneasy one, I didn’t quite have the natural fearless authority of Alice as she negotiated the underworld.  I was working as an English teacher at a very small language school in the French Massif Central, when some six months after starting I was enrolled on a course called a BAFA (Brevet, formation animateur ) which basically allows you to supervise children and run holiday camps, basically it’s a kind of scout leader qualification and an uncanny number of French young people above the age of sixteen seem to have one. In my instance the course took place in a very remote rural village deep in the volcanic mountains of the Massif central. The course was to last 8 days and was what they call ‘intensive’ which is a rather ambiguous new euphemism for a particular peculiarly personally invasive kind of training. I have undertaken several of these so called ‘intensive’ courses over the years but the BAFA was my very first and it was quite a shock, it was in fact an initiation. The first step of a descending pathway that would have led me to hell and the life of a slave robotised by terror, had I not finally woken up to where I was being taken.

Initially I had no suspicions that there was something unusual about the course, I arrived with my bag packed with changes of clothes, towels, and the bathroom products I would need for the 8 day duration. I was shown to my dormitory which I shared with 3 others. Things started taking a turn for the unusual after the third day. The course was very demanding and the amount of information was intended to overload the mind. Each morning a new time table would be put up on the white board, the complexity of which was quite mind blowing and it was necessary to study the time table for about half an hour each morning in order to know what was happening that day and where. Indeed one session of study wasn’t enough and it was quite impossible to copy any details from the timetable as it was simply too complicated so one constantly felt throughout the course that one was perhaps not quite in the right place and one constantly wondered if one had missed some information or instruction from the timetable. In addition to the courses there were assignments to complete and simulation activities to prepare. In all it was very exhausting, the day began at six in the morning for no very good reason at it seemed that lectures and activities seemed to last all evening. There was no time alone that wasn’t spent working on something or studying something relevant to the course.

 

Looking back the first peculiarity of the course, when I first noticed something ‘special’ about the training was an activity where we, the thirty odd trainees were in a room and instructed to move about the room without bumping into any of the other people, we were told to adopt a special walk as we crossed and circled the room. The facilitator then made a sound, not of words but more a collection of vowels, like a mantra, which we were to repeat as we walked around the room. During this experience, about 5 minutes in, I started to feel unusual, slightly light headed but happy, almost ecstatic. I realised then that there was slightly more to this training that I had initially considered. It seemed that here was a kind of transcendental technique, or at the very least, a way to relax people.  I recently communicated with a person who was involved in the Illuminati through her grandmother and husband, who informed me that her grandmother had taken her to the lodge where there was a strange kind of music being played while they walked around and around the lodge while a variety of Hebrew characters were flashed to them. It seems to me that the intention was to create a mild trance in order that the symbols permeate the subconscious mind in order for use and recall at a later date.

After this experience I felt a closer bond with the people around me and relaxed my guard and considered to myself that I might actually enjoy the training. And so the first objective had been achieved by the trainers, namely that my guard had been dropped and I had begun to trust those around me (not always a good idea in these fraught times, there are predators everywhere) and I accepted the validity of the course and considered that it would do me some good. In retrospect the course did me an awful lot of good but certainly not in the way intended.

The programme stepped up and rather than a feeling that I was getting closer to my fellow trainees  (following the trance inducing activity of the previous evening) I awoke up to find the pressure had been doubled and there was even more work to be done. I also found that the people I shared a dorm with and people who it seemed I was getting closer too, were suddenly cold, almost robotic, in their speech and interaction with me. This confused me at the time and, as was intended, led me to question myself, analyse my behaviour, and ask myself it there was something I had done to upset them, or indeed if there was some fundamental failing in my personality that made people treat me in this way. And so I became further disempowered  by  concerning myself with the opinions of the other trainees.  Later on in this book I will seek to concretise an awareness in how these techniques work by deconstructing the film Shutter Island. 

Some days later it became clear that a full psychological test was being carried out and my reactions and demeanour analysed and noted, the programme and behaviour of the other ‘trainees’ being modulated in line with the needs of the test and my responses. That evening we all went out for a drink in one of the local cafe bars, the place was surprisingly crowded for a midweek evening in a remote French village but at the time I thought nothing of it, everyone seemed pretty determined to get drunk for some reason, I didn’t particularly fancy taking part in their heroic endeavours as I have previously explained, the odd aloofness of most of the trainees made me feel uncomfortable and I didn’t much fancy getting drunk in unfamiliar company. However a drink was offered to me and I asked for a verre of rouge, that is, a glass of red wine.  As soon as I asked for the drink there was an odd moment, everybody looked at me and there were noises of disapproval, I felt myself turning red and again examining myself and wondering what I had done wrong this time.

Needless to say the evening passed uncomfortably with people seeming to ignore my attempts at conversation and my being more or less ostracised. These methods are the tried and tested methods used in order to psychological disrupt someone in order eventually to break them completely. Break their sense of self, independence and pride. The new age refers to this as breaking the down ego, in order apparently that we achieve some kind of enlightenment. The techniques are as ancient as mankind itself, and harks back to shamanism and the secrets of the ancient Egyptians, through to the Greek mystery schools such as the Eleusinian mysteries where ancient allegories were re-enacted and sex and murder was actually part of the rites which were witnessed by the inductee and who was sworn to secrecy about what he had seen under pain of death. Then Roman subterranean cults such as Mithraism were the initiate would be installed in a special underground pit while a full grown bull was placed above the pit on a grille and was slaughtered releasing the blood into the underground pit. This is one of the few secrets of Mithraism to have slipped through the millennia aged secrets of the cult and no doubt modern equivalents of these rites are still carried out today, particularly by wiccan societies and especially by Satanist groups.  The effect of these rites were to terrorise and profoundly unsettle the mind of the initiate and set the way for a gradual change in their behaviour  and perception of reality itself. The modern day secrets of the freemasons were passed on from the Knight Templars and led to the rebirth of empire, signalled by the classical laurel leaves whose symbol harks back to the Roman empire and whose symbol has been successfully rewoven into the fabric (literally in the instance of the Henri Lloyd logo) of modern society.

To resume the story, later that evening  we returned back to the centre, somewhat worse for wear, when one of my roommates took me to one side and brought out a marijuana joint and asked me if I wanted some. A ploy of entrapment and compromising the target frequently employed by the secret societies. I smoked some of the proffered joint and we returned to the centre. To my surprise a last minute seminar had been arranged, only somehow I had not been informed so when I returned to the centre I found everyone in their seats and left me wondering why I had somehow been excluded from being informed about it. As I sat down, in that characteristic self conscious, self negating way that one does when one is acutely embarrassed at entering a seemingly important meeting late and unprepared, I saw all eyes turn to me and I felt a sudden light headedness, the strangest thing of all was that I heard a voice commenting on how I was feeling. The light headedness became as fuzziness of self and I had the impression that somehow, by some mysterious psychological process, I was merging with the group and losing my idea of self. I heard somebody say in French: ‘he’s feeling it now, he’s joining us’. I knew they were referring to me and at that moment a proverbial penny dropped and I realised that all was not as it seemed and I realised I had no idea at all what was going on or what I was involved with. At that point my sense of self reasserted itself and rejected the thought of becoming a part of this seeming group awareness. This seemed to be the evening of the great revealing  and the slight sense of embarrassment and unease I had been feeling turned more to terror as my time in the centre deteriorated into a voyage to the Twilight Zone.

Back in the dorm I was feeling hemmed in on all sides, ‘trapped in a square’ as the masons have it, a phrase which refers to someone who is totally under control of his brother masons and can turn to no one for help or assistance. The psychological results of this situation where the individual can no longer make choices of his own which will not somehow be detrimental to himself, where the free will and ability to act independently become completely dissolved, and that person loses his focus and his ability to undertake any task that he is not specifically told to do. He becomes a literal slave and his own psyche is his gaoler. Any attempts to break the programming and assert his own wishes result in a feeling of disorientation, weakness and panic, until he gives up the attempt and settles back into the role of slave.

The initial stages of this condition were starting to develop in me. I assumed however that perhaps by listening to some music on my Walkman I would be able to relax and feel a little less strung-out. What I heard as l put my headphones on and tuned in the radio shocked me and left me in a such a state of nervous tension that I could not sleep at all that night, but instead lay there fearful of what their next move would be. There was a looped techno style backing track, it sounded oddly sinister like some kind of music that one would imagine would be used in CIA brainwashing, while a voice over repeated again and again ‘Open the files on the FBI! Keep it a secret! Keep it a secret!’ as I tuned throughout the frequencies of my radio I found the same track on every station, it was hard to decide whether I was going mad or not at this stage but I knew what I was hearing at the time and knew that it was real enough. Final confirmation was given to me as I came out of my bed and saw the look on one of my dorm-mate’s faces who was also listening to his walkman, the look on his face was of pure guilt, as if he was knowingly involved in an unpleasant trick being played on myself and which he knew to be wrong.

 I have since heard from other sources that other people have been sent on similar training courses and were told to listen to their radios at a specific  time of day, they have reported similar strange radio programmes being broadcast, doubtlessly by a local transmitter especially for the purpose. In hindsight I suspect this is a fairly routine way for masons to recruit other members but at the time I suspected I was slowly becoming involved in the French secret services as the messages on the radio broadcast were decidedly critical of American hegemony. What came from this experience more than fear was my sense of anger and how I had been tricked into coming here, clearly I would not have come had I known that I was being involved in some strange initiatory conditioning program.

I was furiously angry yet I maintained composure and even a pleasant demeanour to the strange characters around me. The key to the experience of the course was that the people one assumed to be fellow trainees, the ones you bantered with, slept and ate with, were in fact the real trainers. They were there to break your old character and help mould a new one. Eventually I decided to leave, although I was in some fear that it might not be so simple to extricate myself after so much of their method had been exposed to me. However I made my intentions clear to the overseer who offered me some kind of deal, I was in no mood to compromise with these creeps and so I refused without even asking what the details of the deal would be.

I returned home feeling strung out, annoyed and slightly unstable. I felt like something was going on around me but I didn’t know what. At one point I visited the supermarket and found a couple of French women pointing at me down the biscuit aisle and saying ‘he’s lost his mind, just look at him’. Half of me attributed this to some kind of ‘follow up’ to the BAFA course, a sort of targeted victimisation, while the other half didn’t know what to make of it at all.

Within a few weeks I had put the delusion that I was being recruited for some organisation behind me, and I told myself that  the reason the course had become so unpleasant was because I had smoked that joint. Still it wasn’t my fault, it was entrapment, so with residual feelings of anger and a feeling that my civil rights had been violated by these jokers, I wrote to the Minister for Youth and Sports a detailed letter explaining my grievances. Some weeks later I received a reply and an interview with the local government representative. Prior to this meeting I had imagined that the stress and insidious nature of the course had made me go half mad and started imagining all sorts of delusions: secret agent delusions, elite organisation delusion and another line of thought that I couldn’t quite define, it seemed like I had undergone some kind of death and rebirth and that life would never be the same again, indeed it was hard to know what ‘life’ was at all and what the nature of the world I lived in was all about. This final thought process led me at times to believe that all the things I had taken for granted as real and authentic, such as people places and relationships, might not be what they appeared and that something odd was going on behind the scenes, someone or something unknowable and invisible was orchestrating meetings and coincidences in a rather unsettling manner.

At the time also I was watching a variety of metaphysical movies which seemed to deal with the strange experiences and people I had met, a film such as Jacob’s Ladder for example, which will be discussed along with the true purpose of many Hollywood  movies in a later chapter. These films served only to fuel my delusions even further and I soon started feeling as if I was somehow stuck between two worlds but not at home in either of them.  

Fortunately the meeting, although I was basically tricked out of any right to complain I might have had, helped me immeasurably to get back my natural grounding in reality. Even following the weeks after the course and prior to the interview I was in two minds as to what had really transpired. Part of me found it unbelievable that such a structure could exist and that so many people could be enrolled to take part, the cost must be incredible, I wondered if I had imagined some things and read too much into others. The letter I had angrily written accused the course designers of using Nazi techniques to break the will of the person, not that I knew particularly what Nazi techniques involved, but it seemed about the strongest most righteously indignant invective I could fire at them.

As a result one of the first things he wanted to address was why I had accused them of Nazi techniques, something I have since learned about people and perhaps a most valuable piece of advice for getting through this life experience with a full set of marbles tiddlywinks and without going to jail would be that the best way to lose an argument is to throw it away. By nature I am a person always willing to compromise, almost to the point of surrendering my own opinion and point of view, for the sake of peace and harmony. What happened in the meeting was that the good regional director of the ministry of Youth and Sports had cleverly (although it is a common enough psychological trick) directed the issue away from my complaint and instead wanted me to account for why I had called them Nazis, in my moderating and naive frame of mind I went along with his suggestion that my definition had been excessive and rather than holding my corner, the conciliation genie got hold of me and agreed with him. Straight away I noticed I had lost my case completely, there was a change in the air that spelt out clearly enough that the interview was over and I had thrown in my hand. However, due to God’s grace or some innate good quality in the regional director’s character he finished the interview with something that saved my sanity right there: He said “We don’t do this special type of course for just anybody!’. It was a tacit understanding that there was something going on, that they had modified the course for my own benefit and that they were indeed trying to recruit me for something. It would take about seven years of uncertainty and confusion before I finally discovered what it was.

Some months later I left the association  and the strange secret little rural pocket of France and went up to Paris to undertake another training course. This one was called one of the ‘better’ type of TEFL qualifications and was described as ‘challenging’ and ‘intensive’. Fortunately the BAFA experience had prepared me for what to expect and so I went through the course completely refusing to reveal too much about myself and steadfastly refusing to trust any one of the other so called ‘trainees’.

I decided that I would go through the course and try to see if I could tell who was who. Who were the trainers and who were the real trainees like me. There were approximately 20 other trainees on the course, and I easily spotted the ‘facilitators’ within the group, those who seemed to always hold the ‘right’  view about everything and who the other people supported every time, however the one thing that seemed to identify these facilitators is that there was a certain lack of something in their character. They seemed friendly and could converse easily, they didn’t have horns or the mark of the beast  or any other particular identifying mark but there was something that seemed missing about them. The fact that they were playing a part meant there was a certain lack of passion in them, they just seemed to be rolling along with a program.

Their eyes weren’t expressive of any positive emotion, they seldom laughed and indeed if you are receptive to people’s emotions you would notice a distinguishable sadness in their eyes along with a kind of cynicism. If you ever spot anyone who seems to suggest this to you be very weary that this person may not be what they seem. They seem emotionally closed down. The course lasted one month and ran from 9-5 everyday. There was the option to make it residential but I realised that I would be in a much weaker situation in this instance so I made the rather lengthy commute from my girlfriend’s quiet forest home to the centre of Paris every day. Probably was the only way I could have stuck out the endless hypocrisy and downright deceit and subterfuge of the course. It was galling to find that you were being moulded into being a good teacher using immoral means. Straightaway the course held no joy or interest for me, it was just an endless slog, made bearable only by the opportunity to walk around Paris at lunchtime and the return home to the forest and fine wine and good French food in the evening.

Anyway when the month was up I was informed I had passed the course and immediately I left to work abroad and while at the airport I came across the book that would for the first time would clear up the entire mystery of who these people were and how they could afford to run such a cost intensive course on only a relatively nominal 1000 pounds fee. The book was The Biggest Secret by David Icke and for the first time I became acquainted with the force that had been pursuing me, training me and generally trying to scramble my brains: The Freemasons. It all made sense! It fit perfectly. The relief I felt was enormous! Finally all the uncertainty and fear of going mad, all my delusions had been proven right. I wasn’t deluded, something  genuinely was going on.

Assassins!

         Khalil opened his eyes. He was laying flat on his back under the shade of a tamarind tree. He could remember nothing, his mind felt as if a river had washed through it, his head was empty and unblocked and he felt a great pureness. For many minutes that gathered into hours, Khalil lay on his back in absolute bliss, nothing troubled him, and no words hassled him; he was at peace.

       He sat-up and stared with wonder, it was then that a thought formed within him, the first he’d had in over four hours, “Where am I?” He tried to stand but found it difficult, his body felt different, he felt an ethereal lightness and the usual muscular action which controlled his body seemed now not to prove effective, he found now that he could move almost effortlessly, he felt like he was gliding down the golden hill side. He looked about him, now he his mind was slowly filling with words again.

        “Where am I? It’s beautiful here.” The cool breeze was laced with the combined perfume of hundreds of different fruits and flowers. Trees of all kinds abounded, he saw flowers uncountable in their variety and whose colours were mesmerising. “What is this place?” He walked on under a cloud of enchantment until his senses were caressed with an unmistakable sweet fragrance, “Honeysuckle,” he thought. He walked, trying to discover the shrub, looking out for its distinctive little white blossoms. To no avail. 

        He saw many other types of tree and shrubs, oranges and lemons, olives, fig trees but he could not discover where the delicious odour was coming from. He felt tired and decided to take a seat by a river and so moving trough a lawn of wild flowers he noticed the fragrance grew ever stronger, ‘Could it be these small flowers?” He bent down to smell them, their richness intoxicated him but yet the fragrance he was seeking eluded him. “Never mind, I’ll sit down by this flowing river”. As he did so, he gazed into the thick waters which flowed slowly and peacefully, he put a hand into the waters to refresh himself, and jumped back with a cry of surprise and disbelief. His hand was covered with a thick clinging substance, “In the name of Allah it is honey, how can this be?”  He cautiously sniffed his hand then tasted it, it was indeed honey. His mind reeled, he stumbled back and his foot sank into a rivulet of water. Khalil looked down at his foot to find it ankle deep in a white liquid ‘milk!’ he shouted “This cannot be! What strange land this is I must discover!” He took his foot out of the rivulet of milk and ran frantically across the plain until he was stopped in his tracks by a sound.

   “Hey you over there,” he turned and saw a figure standing near an orange tree with an orange in his hand. Khalil didn’t move: fear and incomprehension rooted him to the spot.

    “Don’t be afraid, rejoice!” the figure ran towards him, Khalil backed away, “have no fear for this is paradise.” said the figure.

   “My name’s Arslan, in the name of Mohammed rejoice for we have our reward!” Arslan spoke fervently with a great smile of beatitude on his face.

     “Is this really paradise?” Asked Khalil.

  “But of course, haven’t you seen the golden palaces? The milk and honey flowing abundantly?”

          
    “Then I am saved,” then Khalil thought for a moment, “but I don’t remember dying.”

     
     “I do,” Said Arslan, “I was poisoned by a rogue who offered tainted hospitality.”

 Khalil thought for a moment puzzled, but his thoughts were disturbed by the sound of melodious singing voices. 

    “What’s that?” he asked.

          
    “Angels” Arslan answered,  “come and see.”

  So the two men walked off following the sound of singing that seemed to drift down from the surrounding mountains. “But I can’t see them,” Khalil complained.

            
   “Nor can I,” Arslan answered, “but I can hear them, I suppose they are hiding their true nature but all will become clear in time.”

 The melodious sound echoed between the mountains and produced an extraordinary sensation in the two listeners, they felt dizzying enrapture by the singing. Then from nowhere beautiful strains of music flowed accompanying the music.

   “Allah Akbar!”

  Both men were so moved that they could not refrain from dancing, and so they moved in slow circles, eyes closed with arms outstretched:

          
  “As we turn the sun turns; as the sun turns the world turns and with it all life turns as we turn.” Arslan sang.

As the music showed no signs of letting up they danced for hours, until the singing seemed to very gradually become quieter and quieter, it seemed the voices were moving away and the players too.

  “Let's follow, see if we can find the angels,” Arslan suggested.

 Khalil agreed and so they walked bare-footed in the grass and wild flowers. Ahead he saw something.

  “What’s that shimmering on the plain beyond? It looks like the sun’s fire.”

  They walked on drawing ever closer to the shimmering plain that seemed to be ablaze with light.

  "What new enchantment can this be? it will consume us." Khalil exclaimed anxiously. “It seems to be…no it can’t be... look, it’s gold, pure gold!”

 They rushed headlong onto the golden field rolling in flakes of pure gold until their beards and hair were sewn with gold.

 “God be praised," Arslan exclaimed "but come let us follow the music more for they have shown us this marvel, perhaps there are yet more thing to see in heaven.”

 They walked on following the tune, each man was by now almost a shimmering statue of gold, they sparkled and shone and rejoiced for the riches of paradise. They moved reluctantly away from the field of gold and started to climb a steep hill, they climbed accompanied by the heavenly music.

  “You know,” Arslan said “all my life has been a struggle, I have seen rich men live indecent immoral lives while the poor people I knew always lived by God’s law and they suffered unjustly. I could never understand why men who denied God’s law could prosper while the poor and humble people lived decent lives and were rewarded by  more poverty and were made to suffer even more. Now I understand. I do not know my parents, I had been near to death many times before, my life was a daily struggle against death and starvation.”

 “You had no parents? that is strange, nor did I, I am an orphan. My life too had been hard,” 

They had nearly reached the summit of the hill, the climb had been hard but the top was in view and the music too seemed to be drawing ever closer becoming louder and sweeter yet.

“How fortunate that two such as us should finally receive our just reward.” Khalil said. They were near the top now; just a few more footfalls and they would be standing at the summit.

 “But one thing I don’t….” Khalil began but suddenly his words fell from him as he gasped in awe at a new miracle before him. They were on top of a hill, five hundred feet below them they saw the distant golden field sparkling and further they saw the streams of milk and honey. But right now, in front of them they saw a great sparkling palace decorated with porcelain gold and jewels.

            “A poor man never was so rich!”

            “Dara al salaam!” Arslan exclaimed.

 Before them stood a palace of glittering golden cupolas whose glow rivaled the sun itself. The walls were painstakingly decorated with the finest porcelain with designs painted upon it which mirrored and embellished the surrounding paradise. With coloured inks of uncanny synthesis and brush strokes of astounding finesse and resolution; the painted tiles showed tall heavy-laden fruit trees, rising up towards the golden cupolas as trees yearn towards the sun. The trees bore fruit of all colours which, although mere paintings, seemed to contain all the promise of zest and juiciness of the genuine article. Khalil and Arslan  tore their hungry eyes away from the painted fruit and scanned across to see all manner of extraordinary animals: forms that confronted their vision astounded them:

         “What are these creatures? What dreamlike visions. Look Arslan that yellow beast as high as the trees, is it not wonderful? And there,” he pointed, “a monster which looks like a huge grey stone, look Arslan it has two tails, one at each end of its body!”  They gazed into the painting long and hard getting lost in the detail of a tree of a thousand brush strokes, in a forest of a million.

   “Arslan, see there,” he pointed to the painting of a decorated palace “it is this palace!”

  “By Allah you’re right! it’s the very same palace, and look there, there are two figures, I can’t believe it, it is me and you! There we are standing just as we are here, looking at the walls of the palace!"

As they gazed in astonishment, a sound rose from the darkened recess of the palace: the sound of gentle women’s laughter and dainty conversation.

  “Who is within? Perhaps this is no place for us,” Khalil's voice betrayed a sudden unease, “we must leave, let us go down to the field of gold once more then we can feast on the ripe fruit that lie by the honey river.”

 “But this is paradise! no ways are barred in paradise!”

 “But there are lords too in paradise, this is their rest not ours, let us be gone.”

 “Nonsense, we are dead what have we to fear? I’m going in with or without you.”

  Arslan walked briskly towards the yawning palace entrance, “see! no one stops me, there are no guards!” Khalil pondered for a moment, then started walking towards the entrance “wait for me then!” he walked briskly after Arslan but he was soon engulfed by the obscurity within so Khalil could no longer see him. He paused by the palace entrance, again the sound of gentle laughter emanated from within, “Arslan what is there?” He called but heard no answer; only the sound of women’s voices answered him.

  “Arslan I can’t see you, where are you?”  Again he heard no answer but the women’s voices which were like the babbling of a gentle waterfall: their voices were cool and soothing, it seemed to Khalil that they were calling him inside. Their voices filled him with thoughts of love and pleasure; his mind had already embodied the voices giving them sweet faces and full bodies. His concern returned however, why did Arslan not answer? Then he reflected, perhaps he was otherwise engaged, he smiled. He strode into the darkness. As Khalil's eyes grew used to the darkness he noticed he was in a long grey stone corridor with a small opening just ahead, the voices of the women still aroused his desires and drew him onward with increasing rapidity. 

  He walked through the opening and brushing aside a coloured silk curtain he looked on in ecstasy. The room was richly furnished with silks of all colours hanging from the walls; on the floor were an extraordinary array of carpets of every design and from every part of the known world. The floor was a chorus of colours, all blended in perfect harmony with the noble geometry of the carpet’s designs. The furniture in the room was of gold and upon the furniture and lying on the floor were beautiful Haris wearing extraordinary dresses, one represented dawn with all the colours of daybreak, another was dusk, a dark eyed, silent woman was wearing an approaching storm and a green eyed Hari with fair brown hair who was a river. At once he forgot Arslan, but remembered  that Mahommed had promised to those who should obey his will, all the enjoyments of paradise, where every species of sensual gratification should be found in the society of beautiful nymphs.

Khalil was extremely desirous of sensual gratification as he looked about him at the beautiful damsels, some of who were singing and playing upon all sorts of musical instruments, others yet were dancing. He noticed two more Haris moving towards him proffering wine and viands, and tempting him with dalliance and amorous allurement. Clothed in rich dresses, they soon shed them and taking him with expert hands indulged him with caresses and such wondrous physical refinements until he fell into an exhausted slumber. 

     In his dreams he found no escape from paradise but took it with him and explored still further its wondrous excesses. He found in his dream that he could fly like a bird, in fact he was becoming a bird: golden wings budded from under his armpits and shone dazzlingly bright. He surveyed his golden kingdom from on high, ahead he saw a forest of improbably high trees, their roots and trunks lies many hundreds of feet below him but they soared up many hundreds of feet, perhaps thousands; their tops were lost in the clouds. Khalil flew up higher and higher intrigued by this mighty forest but exhausted himself long before he saw even the slightest tree top. He rested on a branch, his golden wings had disappeared, he looked down: many thousands of feet  below him was the ground, he realised the precariousness of his predicament and suddenly the tree began to shake and rumble, a noise like thunder shook the branch, Khalil slipped from the branch. Then he awoke.

     The sound of thunder echoed through the palace, absolute silence had suddenly fallen on the Haris. A mighty gong was being struck somewhere  in the palace, it was surely the most enormous gong ever cast: its sound shook the walls of the palace; strangely the sound seemed to be coming closer, the sound of thunder growing nearer like an approaching storm that intimidates the forest and overshadows the plain as it travels. 

    Then suddenly the thunder struck outside the hall and the Haris bowed their heads casting their eyes to the floor. A large concealed door swung, opening-up a large portion of the back-wall, smoke filled the room and a deep and heavy intoxicating odour filled the room. Music was heard and the sounds of angel’s voices chanting a deep song whose rhythm pulsated and seemed to move inside Khalil and carry him off on a particular musical journey where their were up and downs, twists and turns; a crescendos that drew Khalil into a frenzy of expectation and then a diminuendo which just as soon brought him giddily down so fast that he felt dizzied by the voyage. Then, deep within the thick clouds he could see a dark shape moving; coming closer, until the figure of a hooded man in long white cloak, broke through the clouds, though his face was cast in shadow by his hood, Khalil knew he was watching him and something told him he was smiling.

       “What is this?” Khalil asked, the figure gave no answer.

       “Allah?” Khalil asked nervously.

       “Indeed, it is he,” the bearded figure answered.  

       At once Khalil bowed with eyes averted.

     
    “Oh Allah, creator of the stars the angels and the Djinns; giver of the holy law and judge of all men high and low, I humbly ask your pardon for I have erred in my life through ignorance and poverty.”

   “Enough!” thundered the figure who had stopped smiling, and a flash of light burst into the room, dazzling Khalil who was now trembling with fear.

   “Your life has indeed been miserable and your acts most impure,” the figure continued, “you have one more chance. You will serve Lord Hassan for he is my prophet and will guide you well. Disobey him in anything and you will never see this place again.”

   With that the figure backed away into the clouds again. The angels chants struck up again and the acrid smoke filled the room entirely, Khalil once again fell asleep.        

   Khalil opened his eyes, to find himself surrounded by hard male faces staring at him.

            
   “See, he opens his eyes.”

           
   “Where am I?” he asked in bewilderment and confusion.

  “You have returned to us, Allah be praised, by my power I have stolen you from death’s jaws, is this not so?”       
  
 “It is true, I was dead, and I saw paradise.”

 “And was it pleasing to you?”

  “Indeed it was, rivers of milk and honey and beautiful nymphs just as the prophet described.”

   “And now we have given you life will you serve your Lord and master Hassan? We have the assurance of our Prophet that he who defends his Lord shall inherit Paradise, and if you show yourselves to be devoted to the obedience of my orders, that happy lot awaits you."

 “Lord Hassan, if it is by your power that I am returned to life then I wish by that same power to be returned to death for I am life weary and need sleep.”

  “Hold your tongue, or you shall lose it and more besides, for I am the Prophet returned to Earth and at my word your rest shall be a torment that will last a thousand years, see here what horrors await he who disobeys the Prophet’s decree.” Hassan stood aside and brought out his right arm in an ark that pointed to a table behind him.

 “Come closer!” Hassan ordered, Khalil obeyed and looked upon a table were a great feast was spread.

  “What would you eat to sate your hunger?” Hassan asked “perhaps this,” Hassan indicated a whole roast baby lamb with an outstretched palm, “or this” he waved towards a carafe full of a blood red wine. “Or this,” he pointed towards a circular plate covered by a dome like silver lid.

  “You shall lift it.” Khalil approached the plate hungrily lifting the lid he reflected that he didn’t know what Hassan was talking about and suspected him of being a mad man, he lifted the lid anticipating something delicious, his heart jumped and he felt dizzy and sickened by what he saw. On the plate there was a singular piece of meat: a human head in a pool of blood. It was the head of his new friend Arslan.

  “What is this?” he asked, sickened and confused.

 “Silence, you shall speak only when I demand it, there are lessons to learn and to learn quickly, otherwise you shall share his fate,” Hassan indicated the head.  

  “Now you shall know my power for I am the Prophet Ali returned on earth to show the way to paradise and help those in darkness to avoid falling into purgatory. Arslan!” Hassan addressed the head, “I return you to life in the name of Allah.”

   To Khalil’s astonishment the head opened its eyes.

   “Now, tell this man what you have seen,” the head answered:

  “By the grace of my lord Hassan, I shall tell what I have seen. Horrors have I seen and worse horrors have been my just reward for my crime for which I am punished for disobeying the word of my rightful divine lord, lord Hassan ibn Sabbah from the divine line of the fourth Imam Ali. I thank your grace my Lord Hassan for calling me back to life and sparing me the horrors that death has waiting for me. In death the body cannot further die and so there is no escape from the cruel punishments. My body was pierced with a thousand holes that gushed an endless torrent of black blood and ooze. My limbs were twisted and broken again and again, my eyes burnt out a thousand times, no faint hid me from these tortures as it does when we suffer as mortals, but in death there is no escape. I curse my folly when I tasted paradise by lord Hassan’s bounty, but then I spurned him and sought out death by my own hand and was awakened not gently by the sweet breath of fragrant nymphs but by the hot breath of a dog’s ravenous muzzle biting at my face. Love your just lord Hassan lest you suffer as I have.”

      “You see!” Lord Hassan thundered, “from what fate I wish to save you, and now, you shall depart troubled spirit.” With a gesture from Hassan, a huge bearded man with ferocious burning eyes raised a cudgel and smote down into the head silencing it forever.

   “Now, Khalil the fatherless, join your fellows and obey your Lord Hassan as you obey Allah.” Abdul joined the ranks of about 30 other men while Hassan addressed them:

   “Your training is ready to begin, over the next six months you will learn much that is unknown outside the walls of my court, this knowledge will prepare you for God so completely that you will sit by Ali’s side in the garden of paradise which some of you have already tasted by my grace. But, you can never leave my side, you will learn to fight for me and for God, you will be respected and feared throughout the world, your exploits will echo into future generations and you shall be truly the army of God. Now to your tutors Ismailis.”

   With that the assembled group of young men were taken away by their tutors to begin their training. When they were gone Hassan waved away his attendants and walked out through a door in the back of the room, he returned with two men, signalling down to the smashed head on the silver tray he said, “get rid of this rubbish,” The men removed the tray which had a hole in the middle around under the head and opened the table exposing the rest of the dead man’s body, they lifted the body between them and left the room.

  Hassan alone now mused to himself, “It’s hard work being God,” and he laughed. He then rubbed his genitals distractedly, “time for God to visit paradise I think,” and left the room.

The search for beauty

The search for beauty is the preoccupation of every human and living creature in this material world. We search for beauty outside of ourselves for what is within we fail to appreciate and generally take for granted. It seems for most of us, that we must seek personal happiness and validation outside of ourselves. And so we venture further into materialism and further from the source of personal wisdom. We can never ‘know’ another person as we know ourselves. We can never achieve wisdom from another person because knowledge and awareness lies within our own consciousness. Some of us corrupt what is within, due to a lack of insight or personal damage of some kind, and what is within themselves appears rank and poisoned and the inner beauty is lost. 

So we project our love and desire outside of ourselves, like plants reaching their leaves to the sun, we hope to find sustenance and a purpose for living in someone else.

This makes no sense spiritually because the person in whom you are trying to find this beauty is also looking for the same thing in you, yet the fact that both of you are looking for something which you lack, in someone else, means neither of you possess what you are searching for, because if you did you wouldn’t have to look for it in others.

Superficially, women are attractive and men are handsome, yet this only appears to be the beauty they are searching for, but it is only a configuration of physicality, it is more materialism. It has no deeper meaning and is only a cipher for beauty but not the real thing. The attractiveness and charm which some see in others is often enough to make them love them, but rarely is it enough to make the person possessing these qualities love themselves to the point of self completion. 

The person having the qualities of attractiveness or charm knows that these things are not the real person they are, yet they seem sufficient to make the other person love them. These things are merely tools to enable the person to obtain emotional, sensual, material or financial security. But love is the dream, but it comes from within the self. Why is another person needed to produce a feeling which originates within the self. What is love?

Love is a form of attention. Love takes the attention from ones own personal inner problems and gives one something to focus on outside of the self. 
But what happens when attention goes outward? The material world expands and grows as the all knowing inner being reaches out into the void. 
The reality is short lived because true love requires timeless understanding and a still mind. Within a human relationship these things are unobtainable in this world which by definition is constantly in flux and full of a thousand distractions. There are financial pressures, communication failures, misunderstandings. It is easier to find love in yourself and keep it there than it is to search for it in someone by reaching across the void to another consciousness. Why reach across the void at all? 

So we all reach out of ourselves because we feel dissatisfied with our own inner beings, and we seek to expand our inner light into the darkened void. The consequence of this is human reproduction, which is actually a form of entropy, or widening chaos. Materially, having children is natural, from a spiritual perspective however it is not. 

Reproduction is the consequence of our failure to find God, it is a consequence of a spiritual hunger for completeness which we think the material world can solve for us. But it cannot, it can only offer the temporary excitement of desire followed by a slow loss of the self at the expense of assuming a role as head of a family.

We fracture and divide ourselves. And so from the original harmony we have ‘difference’, we have tribalism, peoples, nations, conflicts, wars which are inevitable when different universes occupy the same world.
Reproduction is shattering the hologram into a thousand more holograms.
Marriages are not easy and often fail because eventually we realise that we can never really find love outside of ourselves, except as a kind of dozing domesticity, but if we really look into ourselves we will realise that what we were looking for was inside us all along.

LIght is LIfe!

Our home is the sun.

The sun is alive. It is the origin of all life. It makes perfect sense that what has the power to give life to us and this world must also itself be alive.
Light itself, more specifically, photons are the vessels of consciousness in this universe. Photons in fact are all uniform and of the same nature, there are no anti photons or positively charged photons.

Although an 'anti photon' has been postulated, but in fact this would be the same as a normal photon, except it would be travelling backwards in time.

The world we live in is in reality two worlds which are superimposed on each other, but which have separate existences and can never truly combine. Like oil and water. There is the cold darkness which contains all of the matter in the universe, most of which is so devoid of light as to actually be invisible. Matter is also the origin of gravity. Hence a ‘grave’ is deep inside the earth. A grave voice or grave news has nothing light about it, it is serious, it relates to a serious ‘matter’.
Whereas light is so amazing that it creates buoyancy to our spirits, it makes them light!
It is these two worlds which are mixed together in this dimension, the grave and the merry, the serious and the happy, the heavy and the light, the dark and the light.

The earth and the sun.
We are here ‘fallen’ to earth. The fallen angels are ourselves. The angels are ‘angles’ of light.
We are angles of light which have become trapped on this planet composed of matter and which we are presently animated and populating with all the conceits of our supposed intelligence.

The Illuminati and Satanists simply wish this world to be our ‘only’ world. They want us to forget our true home in the sun and focus solely on this material world. The reason is because they KNOW that our true spiritual home is the sun and that we belong there, but that they personally do not want us to return because their minds and spirits have been corrupted by the whispering darkness of the earthbound spirits who have lost their connection to the sun and lurk deep within the continuum of endless darkness. These spirits feed themselves by feeding from the energy of the living, so the masons and witches who commune with them feed them their soul energy, they also stage rituals and wars in order to feed these beings who they have bound themselves to over many centuries since the ancient Egyptians and Sumerians started communicating with spirits in order to learn secrets of changing the material for gain and power.

Metalurgy, stone masonry, even the discovery of fire, are all said to have been learned from interested spirits (whom they called Gods). It was often said that other spirits would punish those who traded with the humans, but perhaps the reason was merely to allow the spirits to drain the extra energy which had been first acquired from the humans.

It is for this reason in the old testament that we see often ‘God’ asks people to sacrifice their sons and daughters to him. The Biblical story of Abraham and Isaac is very typical, and reflects an expectation of a father that his son would automatically be sacrificed to God if he required an energy snack. However the miracle of the story of Isaac is that his own good fortune meant that his son was safe since a goat was found nearby, and these are the classic sacrificial beast of God.

This is why Satanists are obsessed with horns and the ‘devil’ apparently has them. He was merely another God of sacrifice and people used to dress themselves up the devil when taking part in sacrifices, mostly of animals, but as in the instance of Canaan and Carthage, of children. This is why Moloch was a bull god, it was a symbol of animal sacrifice. The horns represent sacrifice of energy to feed the spirits, while the meat energy is used to sustain humans.
The different planets are different bases for various levels of spirit beings. They are extra terrestrials since they do not live on earth, but they are children of the same sun. They are our planetary neighbours. Often these beings materialise in some form and so rods and strange semi existent UFO’s may appear.

The further from the light of the sun each planet is the closer to darkness it is. This is why Saturn is identified as Satan as an archetype of evil, while his partner, Jupiter, was identified by the Romans as their God, the Greeks knew him as Zeus, and the Romans also called him Jove. The leap from Jove to Jahweh or Jahovah is not a suprising one, and so we see that these ancient people all revered the same celestial body as their God.

The celestial body however is not merely dead lifeless matter. Light strikes the surface of the planet and infuses the whole body, creating a field of consciousness which is at once separate from God and yet composed of the same stuff.

However it is not a source of light or life. And so no Jehovah did NOT create the world. The light from the sun combined with rain and massive photon charges through lightning created the life on this world as we know it.

Scientists have managed to create amino acid chains in water by firing lighting charges through it. And Nasa also managed to create amino acids by simply exposing various gases to light.

Here is the proof then that 'life' is something which migrates from light into matter.

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