Burnt Offerings and Blood Sacrifice

Memories return in the predawn hours, they trickle through the consciousness as a running stream of pure crystalline water birthed from deep underground. She walks alone, young with an innocent heart. There is a small cottage ahead, tucked between the base of two giant trees—a wisened old woman sits outside awaiting her arrival. No words are spoken as the old one unwraps the gifts of this ancient grove. Giant trees—sentinels of memory, their towering canopies only allow a diffused light to meet the forest floor. Birds scamper about in branches overhead, their song is noticed and a quiet rejoicing of spirit is communed. At the base of the trees and growing on the rugged bark are mushrooms of many shapes and colors. The young woman hears the vibrant resonating song of roots and mycelium. Attentive to the way before words, attentive to the fullness of what is being imparted, she smiles with gentle waves of inner joy.

She spends many long days with this old woman as she learns the secrets of the natural realm. She is also aware of the darker spirits that haunt from the shadows of the towering trees. Shadows, darker than the ones that the trees cast appear, she sees them in wispy trails taking on shapes and dissolving back to smoke that disappear when she gazes upon them. Night descends quickly in the woods, a fire is always lit for there are predators in these old growths, sometimes she will see one with red eyes peering from the distance. She learns to respect them and have no fear for they prey on fear but won’t come near one who walks softly with an inner fire. They watch unscrupulously from the shadows, always waiting for the opportunity to strike fear into the heart.

I am speaking of communion, by the act of writing the words much becomes loss in translation. Being alive in the so called modern world, a world of blaring attention grabbing noise, sharp shapes of steel that cut the sky as motored vehicles churn by disturbs the beauty of silence. It is but a fleeting gift to revisit this state of being—captured before the sun rises and the blundering blabbering chaos of millions of voices fill the spaces in between, silence is drowned out by this ungodly onslaught.

The written word could be considered the first technology, for by defining the whole (holy) into a structure humans began to separate from the total immersion of experience and oral narratives. I am sure that some of the first written texts were influenced by the darker spirits, by way of writing man found he had a tool to express an opinion or proliferate an agenda. It became the means of the powerful, for only kings and clergy had this training. Who is this god that required blood sacrifice, of animals and first born children?

… I will fast forward to today’s world soon.

She slips back to the timeless space of memories. She, the same young soul, is sitting alone in a clearing with the forest close by. There is a rabbit perched on hind legs next to her and they are sharing some inner mirth. She senses something approaching and then hears the beat of heavy hooves quickly drawing near, before she can react they are upon her. Three riders garbed in cloaks with emblems embroidered on them pull their steeds to a sudden stop, one man quickly dismounts to the ground, throws a rough black sack over her, she is then slung over the back of one of the riders horses, her hands bound and her body secured to the heaving beast beneath her. The three horsemen take off at a gallop with their prey. Fear—she felt it through her whole being.

Passing out from the fear and painful treatment she returns to waking consciousness as she’s delivered to those who sent the men to hunt her down—in reliving this memory she was able to understand that there was a bounty for such a young fair one. By a side entrance in a structure of large stones, a heavy wood door groans open, two woman cloaked in long black robes with fabric wrapped around their head so that only their faces were visible led her trembling body inside. She doesn’t know why she’s in this place, perhaps these ladies will assist her. She is fed some gruel and led through dark corridors to a room, once inside she hears the heavy lock click into place.

Sometime later the door to her small chamber opens and a black robed man enters with one of the woman, fear overtakes her again. They move to the side speaking in stealthy whispers, her fate is decided. The woman walks her down a winding passage, entering a chamber she is laid on a high table, wrists and ankles are bound. Two other woman enter and the torture begins, it’s really too horrendous to write about, at the end of hours of being dissected alive—first the eyes then limbs. She finds herself watching from overhead, separated from the torture the body is enduring, she sees they are looking for something inside of her, she sees they are after her Spirit, she knows they will never find it. As she watches she also realizes that this “her” is an eternal essence and no matter the horror inflicted upon the body she remains untouched.

The degenerated ‘human type’ was always lurking in our midst, mostly constrained by societal norms of decency, he was forced to not act out his perversions—those unabated desires of a corrupted soul. We can clearly see him now; twerking naked on the streets in front of children, chanting in a diabolical mass “we are coming for your children”. This is the time when all will show themselves for who they are and what drives them. The beast has been unleashed and knoweth not that Pride comes before the fall.

An Aside to The Internet Truth Merchants

The Industrialised Truth Movement is now a gathering force, and yet many don’t see how close they are to being re-assimilated into the belly of the beast. Accumulating followers, clicks, and viewers they are being re-woven as a thread back into the system that controls all. Yet they see it not. Self promoting truth gurus as they shout from the virtual screen—screen capture in progress. The news mongers, moving from one big story to another, they scramble to comment on the next big story or get the next big name on a podcast. Um? podcast have you ever wondered about that name? And they are all selling merch, how did this shortened term slip into our language so easily? People are in commerce, they are hawkers of truth, participants in the mercantile trade. I even hear some younger podcasters, the ones raised on video games, calling it the game; “Bro, how long have you been in the game?” A question asked of a relatively new YouTuber growing rapidly in popularity.

First a BIG CAVEAT followed by a warning bell: Many, if not most of these folks are drawn to share something they find important. Many have taken on Big Pharma, revealing how all governments promote vaccines and dangerous pharmaceuticals. Many publish studies and research to prove their point. Personally I have learned a lot from those who broke through into the natural health scene. I’ve read many papers and couldn’t agree more with their findings, though something is growing stale and risks being tainted now. Obviously in a world where money makes it go round [catch my tone of irony] to grow an audience more funds are needed everyday, to fight courtroom battles requires even greater amounts of money—there is stiff competition among the growing sea of voices, the scramble for money has dulled and diluted many messages. Slowly, inexorably, by stealthy compliance, the system creeps in. It plays a game, it blocks your message, stymies your ability to collect this money, it deletes your accounts on big platforms and this becomes your badge of honor.

Can we go full stop here for a moment…. New platforms are built, more viable ways of exchange are promoted and yet taxes are still paid? Living outside the system isn’t for very many, it requires a total letting go and a trust tempered by Spirit. This is my manner of honoring those who work quietly in the background and on ground level, speaking truthfully to those who are friends and family. They are the ones whose inner light penetrates into the dark recesses of the closed hearts and minds of the ones who unknowingly are following the death narrative—falling into traps of false light, false hope, and false prophets.

There are some who speak with transparent self honesty, their voices arise from the feeling depths of their souls. Some are courageous enough to risk reputation, to admit when they were wrong, and walk the narrow path of Truth. Not wanting to have my words taken incorrectly, I have an enormous amount of appreciation for all those who speak out, most especially for those who have honed their presentations to pulling out the threads of Truth from the tapestry of lies. This includes the resurrection of lost history, the true science of resonance and frequency—these voices buried long ago have so much wisdom to teach the current man. A question that looms over the virtual tour du force that is the internet, is what happens if it goes away? Maybe this won’t occur though the question is still a viable one.

Money and Blood Sacrifice

Will humankind be forever in need of blood sacrifice and burnt offerings to some far off god in the heavens? What is this belief, where does it come from? Why has it prevailed? These questions are ones that are not easy to answer, though perhaps they are if one can strip away all the beliefs that have been inculcated into the human mind for millenniums. Through canonized scripture and other “ancient” texts we are told of these sacrifices, told of a need to appease God or the gods. Crops won’t ripen, rain won’t come, children won’t be born, storms that destroy, all these calamities have been “countered” through burnt offerings and blood sacrifice. What is perhaps most difficult to comprehend, is that “modern” and supposedly rational man is just as subjected to these practices as what we were educated to believe the “primitive” people were. Whether a people have a belief in religiosity or science the end result seems to be the same. Going Biblical for a moment, the Israelites were warned about sacrifice to false idols, they were given commandments and rules that they didn’t follow. And then more rules upon more rules were instituted, insanity gone bad. And here we are, a collective of human souls, the great majority still disobedient to the call of The Most High while they grovel to the expert masters of scientism and the false prophets dancing like fools on the virtual world stage. A tragic state of affairs, though I must suppose it was inevitable and destined for man learnt not.

Horror heaped in a pestilent mass upon more horror, we observe parents jabbing poisons into their baby’s arms, a call for cannibalism, spirit cooking, demonic ceremonies being celebrated on stages, in the streets, in front of CERN, in libraries and children’s schools. Are people really accepting this as the new normal?

These rituals are now in plain sight and while most recoil in disgust, there are tens of thousands of pages and posts constantly pointing these degeneracies out. This is not enough, it may even augment the problem, to some degree for horror has its own fascination. There is a question that inevitably will arise in the heart of a compassionate soul, what can I do? Sensing this question, it is no wonder that most people will turn away from confronting the creeping totality of an evil genius that only knows hunger for power and control. For too long we have been manipulated into right against left, this great divide has multiple manifestations, not just US politics. I will assume anyone reading these words is well aware of how this works across all spectrums of human life so won’t elaborate further. There is another way, in fact it is The Way. To walk the narrow path begins within each individual, it is the path of the heart and it can’t be taught, it can’t be gifted, it can’t be shown, nor can it be received until one is ready.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
There is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
The world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
Doesn’t make any sense.

Some of us stand on the unshakeable ground of all-encompassing Peace—we are seers, sages, lovers, devotees, prophets, and mystics. We have peeled back the layers of our own deception, we have practiced ruthless love with ourselves as well as with others. Come what may with the tidal wave of pending destruction we will rise above. We carry no doubt, though maintain a constant thread of consciousness that lets us know we will fall if not humble enough to bear the burden of light. We came here for incredible times like these that try our souls.

Sacrifice is necessary, crucification on the cross of Truth is real and must be self imposed. This is not an act of blood letting but of blood purification, it is The Way of turning our blood to light. While here walking in the flesh, it appears that in today’s world we must make compromises to keep food on the table and shelter over our heads. Indeed this is a fact that I would be a hypocrite to deny. There is however, a manner in which we can transmute the accumulative effects of transacting within the system of control. It’s the inner transmutation of fear to love, of anxiety to trust, of lack to abundance. If this is done fully and correctly abundance is readily available to all who walk in surrender and total faith. It’s also demonstrable for those who have found the key are seeing what we call miracles manifest.

Stop what you are doing long enough to listen to the call of real freedom, it can’t be bought or bargained for.

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