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Re: [anthroposophy] Re: Recovering history and navigating the ZeitGeist

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  • Carol
    Bradford wrote: Also I was struck by the wording that Carol used in this quote. ... and their joint efforts towards influencing/monopolizing the Spirit
    Message 1 of 25 , Feb 2, 2007

      Bradford wrote:

       

      Also I was struck by the wording that Carol used in this quote. "...  and their joint efforts towards influencing/ monopolizing the Spirit fabric of All of humanity, and evidently, with the Etheric Christ as the source of their joint aspiration."  Now what exactly did you mean Carol, MONOPOLIZING? That has very potent connotations.

       

      I respond:  I had wanted to reinforce the sense of the word ‘influence’ towards it’s potential of being a  synonym to the word ‘monopolize’ (although both senses were necessary), because anything less would have compromised my depiction of the circumstances surrounding the event.  Using the word ‘monopolize’ in addition to ‘influence’,  illustrates the simultaneous qualities at work behind this sublime phenomena, which comprise the means which the Higher Beings use to access the soul realm(influence) and  the battle being waged (monopolize)  in the spirit/soul realm,  here within our earthly environment. 

       

      I hope that explains it.

       

      Bradford also recalls the following:

       

      “Steiner came back again and again to the spiritual
      atmosphere and location, where the imprint of the events stillhovered and sense in the lecture CONTENT, we see how Steiner brings to this location some of the richest research content…

       

      So as Boardman brings clearly, we also have to look at the lectures that Steiner brought over and over to this location as if something and a group that was there were very receptive to the regions astral field. Nueremberg, the very name rings out in history."

       

      It seems obvious that Steiner would have understood the greater meaning behind the life lived out by Kasper Hauser.  It also seems obvious that Steiner was  himself  consciously and directly working with the Rosicrucian Spiritual Stream by deciding as he did (often?) to use the geographic setting, for the purpose of deepening his Anthroposophical lecture content but probably as well, to allow his and the audience group’s souls,  to ‘bath’ so to speak,  in the remains of the cosmic signature left behind,  by the Spirit Beings who had actively used Kasper Hauser’s spiritualized soul for their own ‘mighty’ work.

       

      Blessings,  Carol.

       

       

      ----- Original Message -----
      Sent: Friday, February 02, 2007 11:34 AM
      Subject: [anthroposophy] Re: Recovering history and navigating the ZeitGeist

      Boardman very wisely offered:

      http://www.monju. pwp.blueyonder. co.uk/KH3. htm

      "But when we note the reference to the Rosicrucian connection and
      become aware that it was held as an esoteric principle that one
      should not speak openly about great individualities active in the
      Rosicrucian movement for at least a century after their death, then
      we may understand a possible reason for Steiner 's reticence. It
      is, however, worth paying careful attention to what Steiner said and
      did in and around Karlsruhe – where Kaspar was born as the Crown
      Prince of Baden – and in and around Nuremberg , where Kaspar was
      first imprisoned for 12 years and then released.

      "We see for example that it was Malsch, near Karlsruhe, on the
      night of a full moon, 5th-6th April 1909, that Rudolf Steiner chose
      for the laying of the foundation stone of the
      first 'anthroposophical' building, the 'Rosicrucian temple'. The
      Malsch building was known as 'Francis of Assisi', an individuality
      whom Steiner later explained had been a pupil of the super-earthly
      Buddha around 700 AD in the Black Sea region. That individuality
      later incarnated as Francis of Assisi in the 13th century at the
      time of the original initiation of Christian Rosenkreutz. His own
      destiny at that time portrayed the change from Mars to healing
      Mercury, as he was a warrior in his youth and transformed himself
      into a gentle healer..."

      http://www.law. umkc.edu/ faculty/projects /ftrials/ nuremberg/ nuremberg.
      htm

      holderlin brought:

      "Another aspect I wish to focus on, or someone should turn their
      attention to, is how Steiner came back again and again to a kind of
      Nuremberg or Karlsruhe location to deliver deepr and deeper
      mysteries. Steiner came back again and again to the spiritual
      atmosphere and location, where the imprint of the events still
      hovered and sense in the lecture CONTENT, we see how Steiner brings
      to this location some of the richest research content.

      In other words, location, location, location. In other words, what
      ever Kaspar Hauser and CR were doing for humanity in that vicinity
      Steiner could penetrate to the richness.... the richness of the
      epicenter and astral field of what is inwoven in these events. So as
      Boardman brings clearly, we also have to look at the lectures that
      Steiner brought over and over to this location as if something and a
      group that was there were very receptive to the regions astral
      field. Nueremberg, the very name rings out in history."

    • holderlin66
      Carol brought; It also seems obvious that Steiner was himself consciously and directly working with the Rosicrucian Spiritual Stream by deciding as he did
      Message 2 of 25 , Feb 2, 2007
        Carol brought;

        " It also seems obvious that Steiner was himself consciously and
        directly working with the Rosicrucian Spiritual Stream by deciding
        as he did (often?) to use the geographic setting, for the purpose of
        deepening his Anthroposophical lecture content but probably as well,
        to allow his and the audience group's souls, to `bath' so to
        speak, in the remains of the cosmic signature left behind, by the
        Spirit Beings who had actively used Kasper Hauser's spiritualized
        soul for their own `mighty' work."

        Bradford compliments Carol;

        Dear friends it is often the case that the explanations are rich,
        rich indeed. But it is not often the case where Anthro-Students can
        think richly TOGETHER and not lose our navigation. The difference
        between the quality of schooled Anthro students and the quality of
        people unconciously connected to Michael, is truly in the quality,
        detail and ability for mutual understanding. Yes complex regions of
        thinking could be outlined if people were truly able to carry
        questions.

        The Mystic...was one of the most artful segues I've encountered
        where a musical reference is tagged. It was rich and warm.

        But for the topic to remain alive, those who are students of
        humanity must retrace the atmosphere that allowed the Trials of
        Nuremberg to arise in Nueremberg and what significance the
        imprisonment of Kaspar Hauser for 12 years in darkness was and the
        12 year incursion from 1933 to 1945.

        (Got to bottom and look at the graph)
        http://www.ushmm.org/outreach/wcrime.htm

        The very pulse of Europe is locked up for twelve years and at twenty-
        one...At twenty-one Kaspar was murdered. Wagner and Kaspar Hauser
        were destined to be at the same age. Kaspar as the pulse of an
        Angelic being...just think, did they think Kaspar was a child so
        awkward that they had to hide him? Did he appear, and you are
        required here in your schooling to recall that of the two Jesus
        children, one, one was considered slow and retarded in his growth.
        Just try to imagine, Kaspar not quickly adapting to life on earth,
        and doesn't seem to be the proudest member of the royal family and
        is hid away as damaged, something to be ashamed of. Yet again, when
        we have discussed here The Foundation Stone that Jung threw out as
        meaningless, the invisible sytems organizer and coordinator, our I
        AM system, still remains as the CORNERSTONE rejected by the builders.

        Most of us who read this have no idea on how to think out the I AM
        as the foundation and the cornerstone that the builders threw out.

        Now if we enter the Nuremberg area, naturally for some as well this
        is clueless, old, stale nothingness where, I for one, have yelped
        daily on at least one, one point! I yelped that if we even dare to
        encroach and override the Geneva Convention on torture and inhumane
        treatment....as torture is an assault on the Angelic community we
        damage our entire humanity in the EXTREME.

        Humanity, through torture, waterboarding, seeks to sever the ties of
        the etheric physical body, astral body and splinter it, and while
        doing this psychological splintering and fragmenting, get the victim
        of our torture to burst through fields of consciousness and have
        shattered rays of their higher being speak such things that can be
        stolen by and used by secret brotherhoods of Ahrimanic forces.
        Robbing the Angelic community and breaking the delicate membrane
        where Michael heart thinking is arising between the heart and brain
        is an active attack. We have covered this here on this list and
        naturally hardly a peep of understanding of what is so vital up to
        the year 2100 that could build each of our capacities to develop the
        thinking etheric organ of heart thinking. Torture rips, claws a
        fatal trauma between human and Angel forcing the soul to deny itself
        and carry a huge karmic and psychological wound. I have yelped and
        harped on this frail point and it brings us right back to Nuremberg.

        The topic of Guantanamo prison, rendition sites, torture cells that
        are sponsored by American, Israel, Britain around the world, and all
        the other countries that condone torture, we are forced into the
        twilight zone where what Steiner, Boardman, Bradford and many
        students grasp clear enough, that there has been a subtle phase III
        Sorathian surge and that the church of the Ahrimanic Sun has arisen
        through the twelve years from 1933 to 1945 and has called all of
        humanity to worship...And that worship siren, used as an air raid
        siren in the Morlocks of "The Time Machine" revealed what has been
        occultly true, that a division between the worshippers of
        materialistic darkness and limpy, whimpy new age, luciferic
        nothingness, spineless nothingness...is a hovering image that
        Christian Rosenkreuz saw and was worried about.

        How many rich moral insights can we launch down the river of time
        from Kaspar Hauser, Nuremberg to 2007? How do those events equate to
        the current battles of Michael? If you can't begin to intuit and
        fathom the connections that link Nuremberg and the current position
        where US Army Lt Ehren Watada is being tried for using his own
        conscience, which the Nuremberg Trials and the Geneva conventions
        brought forward against the rise of the beast in our own human
        souls, then you have to consider yourself out of touch with the
        ZeitGeist. Out of touch with the stream of Michael Intelligence that
        is currently barely keeping its cognitive eye on the ball. We need
        to hold such a broad idea as say, the assassination of JFK and the
        powerful effect it had on generations and the loss of or darkening
        of the Angel, Kaspar Hauser in 1833, to the current ZeitGeist
        concrete predictions that by 1998 we would be in for another storm
        not unlike that which hit Europe. We are in such a storm.

        A moral storm where in we, as Michael Community would be able to
        piece together and hold firm, richer mysteries because we could find
        the threads of the Grail School and true Grail history of the 20th
        century that was viciously attacked. Now that and doing or earning
        our daily bread is required of any Michael student.
      • holderlin66
        Boardman brought: It is, however, worth paying careful attention to what Steiner said and did in and around Karlsruhe – where Kaspar was born as the Crown
        Message 3 of 25 , Feb 2, 2007
          Boardman brought:

          "It is, however, worth paying careful attention to what Steiner said
          and did in and around Karlsruhe – where Kaspar was born as the Crown
          Prince of Baden – and in and around Nuremberg , where Kaspar was
          first imprisoned for 12 years and then released."

          I haven't discovered a trove of Steiner lectures and insight from
          Ansbach where Kaspar was murdered. Perhaps there is something,
          however the most nuclear, outstanding and richest lecture course was
          given in Karlsruhe. The From Jesus to Christ lectures, if they had
          picked up the atmosphere etched by Angels in the Kaspar destiny,
          this cycle of lectures stunned me, made my jaw drop and as can be
          seen, Steiner looks directly into Jesuit vs Rosicrucian training and
          punches right back at the black lodges.

          1911-10-04 pm From Jesus to Christ (single lecture) Carlsruhe
          1911

          1911-10-05 pm Jesuit and Rosicrucian Training
          From: From Jesus to Christ: Lecture I: Jesuit and Rosicrucian
          Training Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-05 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture I: Jesuit and
          Rosicrucian Training
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-06 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture II: Rosicrucian
          Training and Anthroposophical Training
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-07 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture III: Sources of
          Knowledge of Christ, Lord of Karma
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-08 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture IV: Experiencing the
          Christ Impulse, Jerome and the Gospel of St. Matthew
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-09 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture V: Redemption of the
          Physical Body
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-10 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture VI: St. John and St.
          Paul, First Adam and Second Adam

          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-11 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture VII: The Mystery of
          Golgotha, Greek, Hebrew and Buddhist Thought
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-12 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture VIII: The Two Jesus
          Children, Zoroaster and Buddha
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-13 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture IX: The Exoteric
          Path to Christ
          From: From Jesus to Christ Karlsruhe 1911

          1911-10-14 pm From Jesus to Christ: Lecture X: The Esoteric Path
          to Christ
          From: From Jesus to Christ
        • Carol
          Oh, these were over to the side on the service counter, not exactly the daily news.. carol. Kasper Hauser:
          Message 4 of 25 , Feb 3, 2007

            Oh,  these were over to the side on the service counter,  not exactly the daily news..  carol.

             

            Kasper Hauser:

            http://www.monju.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/KH%20index.htm

             

            Rosicrucian’s

            http://www.rsarchive.org/Lectures/GA/index.php?ga=GA0131

             
             
             

             

             
             
             
            ----- Original Message -----
            Sent: Friday, February 02, 2007 12:23 PM
            Subject: [anthroposophy] Recovering the cheese sanwiches

            Yeah I also like cheese and banana as well...

            Anyway so I am thinking it might be nice to have a parallel adventure
            here. I am trying to follow the main threads and it means doing a
            search on most things. Who was Kasper Hauser, more about the
            Rosicrucians, all I can find on Holderlin is poetry. Maybe there is
            another one?

            I don't know if 12 days is really enough, I might get half way through
            a mystery if one arises and then have to leave. That would not be good.
            And then perhaps another 318 people on the list don't want to have a
            mystery and that wouldn't be good either.

            I am thinking that when one attends a meeting, its not all heavy going.
            One doesn't arrive listen to the lecture and go. No, one has a cup of
            tea, chats to old and new friends, perhaps a cheese sandwich or a
            biscuit. Mmmm

            :)

          • Valerie Walsh
            ... Panda ... No doubt-you could even get a grilled cheese sandwich in Hong Kong! The last time I was there was 1990-so before it converted-stayed at the
            Message 5 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
              --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "chanting_om"
              <blue_star_in@...> wrote:
              >
              > Well i would like a cheese sandwich, not right now ! But I seem to
              > have them on my mind, if someone could bring a round in they sure
              > would
              > go down well. The last time I had a cheese sandwich was in the
              Panda
              > hotel in Hong Kong. I had a little lunch box of them and munched
              > them
              > in my room.
              >
              > That was on November 15th last year ! Still I am off to Sanya and
              > Haikou soon so I am sure to get one there, with butter on the bread
              > as
              > well !

              No doubt-you could even get a grilled cheese sandwich in Hong Kong!
              The last time I was there was 1990-so before it converted-stayed at
              the Conrad Hilton-excellent service there as I recall.

              > Yes location, location, location ! We need a range of mountains
              >for starters. Bradford in a temple library. A forest of pine
              needles, pink clouds to send to Iraq. A table with a round of cheese
              > sandwiches.

              Location, location, location is everything in real estate. Between
              that and the cheese sandwiches I think it is a hotel you need.

              > - A musical auditorium for me and Val..

              I'd rather have a hotel. Let's see, my last solo performance in
              public was a song I composed and sang at my little friend Tracy's
              funeral service. She was three months old. And the last song I ever
              wrote was for my friend Susan Hall's memorial announcement. Susie was
              bludgeoned to death while she slept in her home in Tuscon, Arizona by
              a still unknown assailant. So I don't know-I'd have to make some
              calls-but it must be going on twenty years now since I managed to
              bury any music that might have lived in me. And see, here you were
              probably thinking that I couldn't manage my way out of a paper bag.
              Ha!

              > - A meditation centre to ponder the serious questions which Carol
              > oversees.
              >
              > - A mental exercise chamber where Mark instructs..
              >
              > But above all some cheese sandwiches would be good, cheese and
              > cucumber, cheese and beetroot, or cheese and pickle or cheese and..
              > onion. I like all of them :)

              Glad to hear it!

              Lumiere:
              Ma chere Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride
              and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight.
              And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a
              chair as the dining room proudly presents -
              your dinner!

              Be our guest! Be our guest!
              Put our service to the test
              Tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie
              And we'll provide the rest
              Soup du jour
              Hot hors d'oeuvres
              Why, we only live to serve
              Try the grey stuff
              Chip:
              It's delicious
              Lumiere:
              Don't believe me? Ask the dishes
              They can sing, they can dance
              After all, Miss, this is France
              And a dinner here is never second best
              Go on, unfold your menu
              Take a glance and then you'll
              Be our guest
              Oui, our guest
              Be our guest!

              Lumiere and Chorus:
              Beef ragout
              Cheese souffle
              Pie and pudding "en flambe"
              Lumiere:
              We'll prepare and serve with flair
              A culinary cabaret!
              You're alone
              And you're scared
              But the banquet's all prepared
              No one's gloomy or complaining
              While the flatware's entertaining
              We tell jokes! I do tricks
              With my fellow candlesticks
              And it's all in perfect taste
              That you can bet
              Come on and lift your glass
              You've won your own free pass
              To be out guest
              Lumiere:
              If you're stressed
              It's fine dining we suggest


              Chorus:
              Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!
              Get your worries off your chest
              Let us say for your entree
              We've an array; may we suggest:
              Try the bread! Try the soup!
              When the croutons loop de loop
              It's a treat for any dinner
              Don't belive me? Ask the china
              Singing pork! Dancing veal!
              What an entertaining meal!
              How could anyone be gloomy and depressed?
              We'll make you shout "encore!"
              And send us out for more
              So, be our guest!
              Lumiere:
              Be our guest!
              Chorus:
              Be our guest!

              Mrs Potts:
              It's a guest! It's a guest!
              Sakes alive, well I'll be blessed!
              Wine's been poured and thank the Lord
              I've had the napkins freshly pressed
              With dessert, she'll want tea
              And my dear that's fine with me
              While the cups do their soft-shoein'
              I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing
              I'll get warm, piping hot
              Heaven's sakes! Is that a spot?
              Clean it up! We want the company impressed
              Chorus:
              We've got a lot to do!
              Mrs Potts:
              Is it one lump or two?
              For you, our guest!
              Chorus:
              She's our guest!
              Mrs Potts:
              She's our guest!
              Chorus:
              She's our guest!
              Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!

              Lumiere:
              Life is so unnerving
              For a servant who's not serving
              He's not whole without a soul to wait upon
              Ah, those good old days when we were useful...
              Suddenly those good old days are gone
              Ten years we've been rusting
              Needing so much more than dusting
              Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills!
              Most days we just lay around the castle
              Flabby, fat and lazy
              You walked in and oops-a-daisy!

              Chorus:
              Be our guest! Be our guest!
              Our command is your request
              It's been years since we've had anybody here
              And we're obsessed
              With your meal, with your ease
              Yes, indeed, we aim to please
              While the candlelight's still glowing
              Let us help you, We'll keep going
              Course by course, one by one
              'Til you shout, "Enough! I'm done!"
              Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest
              Tonight you'll prop your feet up
              But for now, let's eat up
              Be our guest!
              Be our guest!
              Be our guest!
              Please, be our guest!
            • holderlin66
              It is interesting to examine Dec 14 and Kaspar against the release of the reports on Dec 14 for Diana. Chance? Accident? or are there significant dynamic
              Message 6 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                It is interesting to examine Dec 14 and Kaspar against the release
                of the reports on Dec 14 for Diana. Chance? Accident? or are there
                significant dynamic occult star field dates that can be used to turn
                tides and darken opinions and catch black lodge victories and past
                actions that numb the minds via these past dynamic influences?

                The signature of Spin and the work of the black lodges in shaping
                history, Lord Stanhope's typical machinations that can be seen
                clearly repeated over and over again in every single Media
                obliterated event down to the current trial issues of the Vice
                President against Joe Wison and I. Scooter Libby. Plant news
                stories, fake events, steer people away, far, far away from the
                actual Grail Sciences that are there. This is the MO and people gulp
                it down like gator aide. Was Steiner having a bad conspiracy day
                when he knew that the Jesuits and the powerbrokers set up the death
                of Kaspar Hauser?

                Just as Gerald Ford and the sacred magic bullet that killed JFK is a
                100% crock, but the powers that be certainly don't want the walls of
                their house of cards to be shaken and fall around their heads. What
                if word leaked out that the Ahrimanic nuclear Sun that was
                manufactured and is worshipped and all these events were to hide the
                relation of humanity to the rising Etheric Christ Sun that opens the
                door to the logic of the etheric world, the logic of the astral and
                the logic of the I AM kingdom.

                What if it opens the door to a new Physics world where matter and
                love from the core of the I AM are invested with Light that St. Paul
                bumped into? That Steiner was credible and that there were two Jesus
                children? One of a much slower development and the other so
                brilliant that he ripped through the substance of his physical
                capacities by age 12...and that the artists and painters who
                depicted two Jesus children were correct? What if all this credible
                Grail intelligence became part of the main stream media world and
                humanity overturned and brought the Orwellian madhouse down because
                they are nothing but liars and have worked from strong Etheric black
                Lodge power sources to undermine all that humanity might become if
                it grasped the truth?

                This is the credible case that goes back all the way to Kaspar
                Hauser and the dawn of WW I. The signature and the style of the
                black lodges remain fronting vast power blocs and humanity are
                losers if they don't get out of this stranglehold...Vendetta and
                much much more is long overdue if humanity could wake itself up.

                http://www.mysteriouspeople.com/Hauser3.htm

                "....Stanhope soon became bored of Kaspar, and on 10 December 1831,
                obtained permission to leave him in the town of Ansbach, about fifty
                miles away from Nuremberg, to be tutored by his friend Dr Meyer.
                Kaspar was unhappy and lonely in Ansbach, Meyer was mean-minded and
                distrustful, a strict schoolmaster who shouted at him for not
                concentrating on his lessons, and told him constantly that he was
                telling lies.

                "Meyer was determined to make Kaspar into a devout Christian and
                threatened him with damnation if he didn't follow his religion.
                After a while Kaspar relented and was confirmed in the Christian
                faith by Pastor Fuhrmann. Stanhope left Ansbach on 9 January 1832,
                promising to adopt Kaspar and bring him over to England. But they
                never saw each other again.

                "Stanhope actually went to see Stephanie, the Grand Duchess of
                Baden, at Mannheim. He gave her a copy of the just published book
                about Hauser by Feuerbach. She wept when she read it and was
                desperate to meet Hauser. Stanhope said he would arrange for them to
                meet, but he never did. While staying with Meyer Hauser began
                working as a copying clerk in a law office. On December 9 Meyer and
                Hauser had a big argument, Meyer saying that Kaspar had been
                behaving oddly the whole of December. On 11 December Kaspar said he
                had to meet a friend to watch the boring of the artesian well in the
                park, the gardens of the disused palace.

                The Assassination

                "On the afternoon of 14 December, Kaspar left his work at noon, and
                after lunch went to his spiritual guide Pastor Fuhrmann. He told
                Fuhrmann that he was meeting a young lady friend, but instead went
                to the park.

                "Hauser later said he was tricked into going alone to the deserted
                gardens with the promise of information about his mother. He waited
                by the artesian well, but no one came, so he went across to a
                monument in the park, where a man was waiting for him. They walked
                together in the freezing cold for a while, then the man made as if
                to give Hauser a document and suddenly stabbed him in the side,
                puncturing his lung and piercing his liver, and then ran off.

                "Kaspar managed to stagger into the house saying 'man . . .
                stabbed . . . knife . . . Hofgarten . . . gave purse . . . Go look
                quickly . . .' But Meyer was not convinced of the seriousness of the
                wound and did not call a doctor immediately. Later the police
                searched the park but couldn't find the weapon, but did find a black
                wallet or purse. Inside the wallet there was a note written in
                mirror writing. It said:

                'Hauser will be able to tell you how I look, where I came from and
                who I am. To spare him from this task I will tell you myself. I am
                from . . . on the Bavarian border . . . My name is MLO.' Police
                questioned Hauser, wondering why, when there had been a previous
                attempt on his life, he had gone to the gardens alone. Kaspar
                couldn't identify his attacker, all he could tell them was that a
                workman had brought him a message which told him to go to the park
                as someone had news about his mother.

                "When he got there, a tall, bearded man in a long, black cloak had
                asked him if his name was Kaspar Hauser. When Kaspar nodded, the
                stranger handed him the wallet or purse and thrust a knife into his
                ribs at the same time. As Kaspar lay dying he said,
                enigmatically: 'Many cats are the death of the mouse,' and
                finally: 'Tired, very tired, still have to take a long trip.'

                "He died on 17 December, at 21 years of age. A huge reward was
                offered by the king of Bavaria for information leading to the arrest
                of his killer, but nothing was ever found out.

                "Meyer had always been suspicious about Kaspar and it seems to have
                been him who started the rumours about Hauser's death being suicide.
                Soon others began to suspect Kaspar's story. Only a single set of
                footprints was found in the snow at the park, and they were
                Kaspar's; people suggested that Hauser may have stabbed himself in a
                despairing cry for attention. Stanhope later said, in his book
                written three years after Hauser's death, that it was accidental
                suicide, and that Kaspar was an imposter who got trapped in the role
                and was forced to keep it up for years, and made comparisons with
                the English impostor princess, Caraboo. But the physician who
                performed the autopsy, Dr. Friedrich Wilhelm Heidenreich, thought
                that due to the size of the wound, Kaspar could not have done it
                himself.

                "Strangely, Stanhope had actually written a last letter to Hauser,
                from Munich on 16th and 17th December, and postmarked on the 25th,
                when he must already have known of what had happened, and probably
                also knew that Kaspar was dead. Local newspapers carried the story
                from the day of Kaspar's death on the 17th, and the Munich
                newspapers from the 20th onwards. Was he trying to show, if
                questioned later, that he wasn't involved in the murder?

                "On 26th December Stanhope visited the prince of Öttingen-
                Wallerstein, Bavarian minister of the interior, and tried,
                unsuccessfully in the end, to convince him Hauser was a fake. He
                also went to the trouble of meeting with all of the people in
                Nuremberg who had seen Kaspar in his first few days in the city,
                including Daumer, and getting them to change their stories to say
                that Hauser had invented the whole thing. He also visited other
                public figures throughout Europe saying Hauser was a fake who'd
                committed suicide."

                http://forum.noblerealms.org/viewtopic.php?pid=50032

                [We recall, however,
                that the DNA test on Kaspar Hauser (who incidentally, was fatally
                stabbed on this day, 14th December, 1833) run by German
                magazine "Der Spiegel" at the Universities of Munich and Birmingham
                in 1996 was shown in subsequent years and by a second DNA test in
                2002 (University of Munster) to have been a complete fake, because
                the blood sample tested in 1996 had nothing to do with Kaspar
                Hauser!"

                "...let us just imagine what it would mean IF it were conclusively
                proven and accepted that Diana had been killed by British
                intelligence with the connivance of US Secret Service and certain
                members of the Royal Family. Or, for that matter, if it had been
                proven that JFK had been killed not by Oswald or even by 'renegade
                members' of the CIA, but rather on the orders of key figures within
                the US establishment? Or that 9-11 was staged by forces within the
                US establishment itself to justify the War On Terror? In all these
                cases, the UK and US establishments would suffer blows from which
                they might not recover. This would likely have knock-on effects
                on 'the great issues of the day'. Everything would be up for
                question; mental habits might finally be put aside and the veils of
                authority finally drop. In Britain, the monarchy remains the
                lynchpin of the Establishment. This is why next year we shall have
                had to wait 10 years for a British inquest and why it will reach the
                same result as the French inquiry, the Stevens Report and the BBC
                documentaries. This is why the death of Diana is significant. They
                know this and thus the facts of the conspiracies must be suppressed
                or disguised. Hence the Warren Commission Report...the 9-11
                Report...and now the Stevens Report."

                Terry
              • holderlin66
                Friends do you have any idea what happens when we trip over the details of King Ludwig of Bavaria and the mad Grail Ludwig II? Here we see into something that
                Message 7 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                  Friends do you have any idea what happens when we trip over the
                  details of King Ludwig of Bavaria and the mad Grail Ludwig II? Here
                  we see into something that Ludwig II was still connected to in the
                  spiritual world that surrounded the whole potential of Europe and
                  the birth and destiny of Kaspar Hauser. We can take a tour of
                  Ludwig's Grail Castle and his absolute love of Wagner and I shall
                  because we certainly can't trust U to help research these things can
                  we?

                  And Wagner, Wagner was all that the myths around Arthur tell us of
                  Merlin the Initiate. Merlin had arranged and navigated the occult
                  Arthur leadership and his entire occult spiritual and star
                  development was deeply woven with the elemental beings of the Celtic
                  world. This was all lost in a cave and disappeared with Merlin, into
                  the White Lodges. Wagner awoke through his astral bodies connection
                  to music the hidden mysteries he carried in his astral body of the
                  entire Grail history. This strange spiritual fact can hardly even be
                  disputed.

                  Now we find Kaspar and Bavaria and Ludwig and what Ludwig II
                  couldn't shake that caused his madness. Ludwig II remained connected
                  to the hovering spiritual world intent over germany. Steiner, Wagner
                  and Ludwig as well as Kaspar Hauser and the black and white lodges
                  knew what Michael was bringing in and there was a full ground war in
                  order to divert the honest and clean spiritual world of freedom and
                  love, overthrowing the powerbrokers and the Jesuits. Steiner knew
                  it, it is time we knew it.

                  Ludwig couldn't shake the hovering Grail world that Steiner has
                  indicated would have been the South Germany Grail Sciences and
                  culture that would have reshaped the Consciousness Soul from England
                  and Celtic Arthur, the Magna Carta to the I AM core that Fichte had
                  as a capacity and Steiner brought the full force to bear out of his
                  incarnation in German/Austrian thinking. Do you yet see what has
                  been attempted to be buried here?

                  "He later presented the results of his investigations in a private
                  lemother of Bavaria, Karoline. This was published after his death by
                  his son, but was still subject to a restraining order by the Baden
                  family. Karoline herself stated that it was the 'unanimous opinion
                  of many people (that) Hauser was one of the sons of my poor
                  brother.' King Ludwig of Bavaria notes in his diary that he believed
                  Hauser to be the 'rightful Grand Duke of Baden.'"

                  Bradford brought;

                  "Instead, Kaspar Hauser was 'taken out'. Resulting in the fact that
                  Wagner and Kaspar never meet and Wagner, while Wagner himself was
                  prepared and offered his mighty Merlin masterpieces to a vacant and
                  not there Kaspar Hauser, insane Ludwig II actully gets it, all that
                  couldn't come in, is caught by the poor insane Ludwig."tter to the
                  queen

                  "But who was the mysterious Kaspar Hauser? Was he the rightful
                  prince of Baden?

                  http://www.mysteriouspeople.com/Hauser3.htm

                  "It was Feuerbach who was officially in charge of the investigation
                  into the first murder attempt. He was initially skeptical of royal
                  claims, but later changed his mind and argued that Hauser was indeed
                  the legitimate heir of the Duke of Baden, son of Stéphanie de
                  Beauharnais, adopted daughter of Napoleon. He later presented the
                  results of his investigations in a private letter to the queen
                  mother of Bavaria, Karoline. This was published after his death by
                  his son, but was still subject to a restraining order by the Baden
                  family. Karoline herself stated that it was the 'unanimous opinion
                  of many people (that) Hauser was one of the sons of my poor
                  brother.' King Ludwig of Bavaria notes in his diary that he believed
                  Hauser to be the 'rightful Grand Duke of Baden.' Indeed Mayor Binder
                  had received a letter to this effect as early as July 1828.

                  "A May 1832 letter from Feuerbach to Stanhope mentions proof about
                  Hauser's royalty in the form of an 8 page report. It was unfortunate
                  that the letter was to Stanhope, the one person Feuerbach trusted
                  that he probably shouldn't have. Feuerbach's book about Hauser
                  caused a sensation when it was published in 1832, and newspapers all
                  over Europe published accounts of Kaspar Hauser's life and possible
                  origins.

                  "However, on May 29,1832, on his way to meet a man called Klüber in
                  Frankfurt to discuss the matter of Hauser's royal connections,
                  Feuerbach died suddenly, aged fifty-eight. Before dying he said he
                  thought he'd been poisoned on the orders of someone in the royal
                  house of Baden, because of his discoveries about Hauser's origins.
                  His son Ludwig was sure of this. There was even supposed to be a
                  note that he wrote saying that he had been 'given something.' It was
                  believed by Feuerbach's grandson that at least three members of the
                  Feuerbach family were poisoned because of links to Kasper Hauser.

                  "The 'prince theory', in essence, is that the son Stéphanie de
                  Beauharnais, wife of Grand Duke Karl of Baden, gave birth to in 1812
                  was Hauser, and it is he who would have inherited the throne. She
                  gave birth to another son in 1816, who also died. But she had three
                  daughters that all lived. The countess of Hochberg, second wife of
                  Karl's father, the founder of the dynasty, would have been the one
                  to benefit from these deaths. Karl himself died in 1818, under
                  mysterious circumstances believing he and his sons had been
                  poisoned. Now nothing stood in the way of the son of the Duchess of
                  Hochberg, who was supposed to have smuggled a dying child of a
                  peasant woman into the palace and managed to exchange it with the
                  baby prince - supposedly Kaspar Hauser. The countess wanted her own
                  son, Leopold, to come to the throne, which he did in 1830. Hauser
                  was then given to a Major Hennenhofer, who put the child in the care
                  of an ex soldier. It was said by some that when questioned about
                  this Hennenhofer confessed.

                  "Apparently Kaspar was kept hidden away in a dungeon for twelve
                  years. He was supposed to be killed, but the plan went wrong, and he
                  was kept alive in prison by whoever had been ordered to murder him,
                  possibly in order to bribe the royals later on, or perhaps out of
                  sheer compassion. When the secret couldn't be kept hidden any
                  longer, Hauser had to be brought disguised as a beggar to Nuremberg.
                  Perhaps they hoped he'd be put in a lunatic asylum or sent away as a
                  soldier.

                  "It's possible that the place where Kaspar Hauser was imprisoned was
                  the Schloss Pilsach, a large house close to Nuremberg, where there
                  was a secret dungeon, and a small white wooden horse like the ones
                  Hauser played with was discovered during renovations. Admittedly,
                  much evidence, the frequent attempts on Kaspar's life, the
                  participation of Stanhope, and the Baden family's attempts to keep
                  the story quiet, seem to indicate some truth to this prince story.
                  Unfortunately when Hennenhofer died, his private papers were all
                  destroyed, so that avenue, as with many in the story of Kaspar
                  Hauser, is closed."
                • holderlin66
                  ... time like space is differentiated and laden with various qualities; it is not, as was thought in the 17th century, a mere continuum, essentially the same
                  Message 8 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                    "... time like space is differentiated and laden with various
                    qualities; it is not, as was thought in the 17th century, a mere
                    continuum, essentially the same at all periods."

                    http://www.monju.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/KH3.htm

                    "The first was touched on briefly in the second article of this
                    series; it is the concept of time regencies. According to this, time
                    like space is differentiated and laden with various qualities; it is
                    not, as was thought in the 17th century, a mere continuum,
                    essentially the same at all periods. In an individual life, the
                    experience of time of a 70 year old person is very different from
                    the experience of the 7 year old. Esoteric knowledge, including
                    Anthroposophy, works with the concept not only of the evolution of
                    bodies but also of consciousness throughout history; this means that
                    the way we think about ourselves and the world today is very
                    different from how the Greeks or the Egyptians did. Esotericism has
                    always seen everything in the universe as being governed by
                    intelligence, or rather, the intelligences of a variety of spiritual
                    beings."

                    Bradford comments;

                    Let us put aside the flunky Physics and embrace the advanced physics
                    that even Einstein sought to approach when he realized the
                    relationship between the speed of light and time.

                    Do we, can we have an exact pre-experience of future time events?
                    Yes. It is within the realm of our human cognitive experience and
                    places what humans carry and what Time IS under whole new astral/I
                    AM faculties and constraints. In other words human beings are
                    profound and accurate physics instruments that can keep pick the
                    astral and magnetic time stream and get sent directly to them, small
                    post cards of precise pre-vision directly to their morning IN-Boxes.
                    This faculty gets shoved under carpet after carpet and is excused
                    over and over again, when in fact it can be a trained faculty and in
                    fact it is right at this TIME, connected to the close proximity of
                    our astral and Angel Daily Briefing. Our own ADB.

                    It is time to think in terms of PDB vs ADB.

                    They have a Presidents Daily briefing, called the PDB. But when
                    working with our Angelic intimate higher selves, we slowly, with a
                    little clearing of our mental debris, Mark certainly knows what
                    clearing of our superficial, cluttered, headphoned, gossip, current
                    bedded lover snuggling, last telephone conversation, worried
                    financial or business meetings arising in the morning, or last
                    sentient soup T.V. program full of lies, last seen and heard,
                    clearing of the rubbish that continues to reverberate through our
                    human brains entails. Time, as a mature physics construct is right
                    in front of us if we thought we wanted to take it. But we don't.
                    Mark is certainly right there. Education has so fragmented our
                    Intelligence that we don't believe in an Etheric Christ event or
                    that we can preview time in our own ADB, Angelic Daily Briefing,
                    which is called a waking vision or waking dreams.

                    Déjà Vu is the term, but it is discarded and much maligned and smart
                    ass physics thinkers swirl in the same new age soup as the rest of
                    the failed educational thinkers do. Because there is a real quality
                    to Time. There are real qualities to time. Tine can be grasped not
                    only in different soul states, layers of sentient soul experience,
                    intellectual soul experience and Consciousness Soul experience but
                    Time that also moves as we moved from Moon, to Mercury, to Venus, to
                    Sun, to Mars, to Jupiter and to Saturn through our human
                    biographies. Such biographical recapitulations are of the nature of
                    such recapitulations of previous Time passages that humanity shared
                    as they went through Atlantis, Ancient India/Persia, Egypt, Greece,
                    Rome...etc.. etc... Time passages that had different stamps on them
                    as humanity developed different capacities of viewing different
                    parts of the great mystery with different faculties of their soul.

                    Scientists and Anthro scientists remain cowardly, most of them,
                    cowardly and hiding behind the skirts of universities and parents
                    who want their kids taught the way other kids are taught and have
                    for their children the same set of crappy ideas as what they
                    consider normal kids are digesting and being forced to swallow.

                    Not to distract you with the subject of Physics and Spiritual
                    Science but we students of Spiritual Science, Tom Mellett as a good
                    example of a physics teacher, Owen Barfield as a great example of
                    the Consciousness Soul and thinker and scientist of how Time is not
                    flat, nor does our human experience prevent us from experiencing in
                    waking dreams previews of coming time events with precise details
                    called Déjà Vu --.

                    This little PDB that we could get, or rather our ADB that we prepare
                    ourselves to understand if we do happen to get a ADB...and I have
                    luckily for the most part, not had earth shattering ADB's but I once
                    had a notebook that covered from 6 months to ten years ahead of the
                    curve, and I noted them, and have walked right into the precise
                    situation I had noted in a waking dream and heard and saw with
                    precise clarity people I had never met say what I had never heard
                    before.

                    Now with torture we don't want people to be tearing the fabric of
                    the delicate membrance that has been described as the building of
                    the etheric heart in previous discussions here. The entire Sorathian
                    surge and media madness and chaos that our children and we are
                    engulfed in, is correctly understood by Mark and his more than five
                    cents, that the force to distract humanity into the poltical details
                    of oil and war and crap and main stream media is really to keep the
                    soul occupied against itself. You had better get used to the idea
                    that a house divided against itself cannot hear or read or see much
                    of an Angel Daily Briefing on the ongoing hopes of the Angelic Being
                    of the Etheric Christ in the neighborhing Etheric World.

                    Firstly lets be clear. To hold thousands of prisoners under torture
                    and constraints without trials is merely preparing and building a
                    school of hosts that in future incarnations will bear a scar and a
                    wound in their psyche that can be brought under the influence of
                    black lodges. It will have a TIME STAMP and an astral Time Scar or
                    Star scar in it that can be recalled when the next karmic wave
                    approaches, like the wave we are in now. To prepare the breakdown of
                    souls, simple souls, and prepare future armies of those that serve
                    the black lodges later and in future incarnations are part of the
                    game plan of torture and rendition NOW!

                    Physics and Time: We should and would have had long ago advanced
                    students of physics and time, if Steiner had brought his university
                    to Munich. We would have had a mature understanding built by now of
                    the physics of time and the debunking of the foul education and
                    misfitted crap that your children are forced to gobble up. But you
                    just don't know the reasons why they are forced to gobble this up
                    nor why do we let them do U? And all these intimacies of the human
                    physics system can be backed up by facts and yet remain maligned and
                    forced away from any serious considerations so that quantum
                    mechanics and pathological perception tail chasers, can go chase
                    their huge tails round and round and round instead of taking in the
                    I AM, the astral, the etheric and the physical systems integration
                    out of which the human physics instrument is constructed.

                    And Anthros mostly are too timid to tackle anything that might
                    reveal something slightly different to what they can safely maintain
                    by teaching at universities and playing party favor games to hinting
                    at theories that are not theories at all. Déjà Vu -- in its esoteric
                    and disciplined work of our daily Ruckshau's is far, far, more
                    interesting and not so earth shattering I assure you as the
                    Presidents Daily Briefing.

                    But will anyone build up a construct that shows the physics of our
                    ADB vs the relation and awe we think when we think of the
                    Presidents, PDB? No, they don't they leave it to overworked and
                    underpaid hacks like me. There are professionals out there that can
                    do a much better job than I can but they need to speak up.
                  • carol
                    Thanks for: The Amazing Warning Of Benjamin Freedman - A Jewish Defector Warns America 1-21-7 Reading that speech brought to mind the accounts that I ve read
                    Message 9 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                      Thanks for: The Amazing Warning Of Benjamin Freedman - A Jewish
                      Defector Warns America 1-21-7

                      Reading that speech brought to mind the accounts that I've read which
                      describe circumstances surrounding some events of WW1, from the
                      perspective of, well let's say, Anthros at the time.

                      I am proposing that reflection be applied towards the informal
                      association between the Chief of the General Staff von Moltke and
                      Rudolf Steiner and the significance of this joint rapport towards
                      Humanity's karmic events of the early 20th century. Contrary to
                      the `popular' tendency of using these 2 individuals as scapegoats for
                      Germany's defeat in the 1st WW, perhaps we should be looking at
                      measuring the `Great' resistance that Moltke bore out of himself,
                      against the great Ahrimanic forces which pressed forward against him
                      and the world, and which eventually managed to outwit him.

                      The following extracts come from LIGHT FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM Rudolf
                      Steiner's association with Helmuth and Elza von Moltke- Letters,
                      Documents and After-Death Communications- Rudolf Steiner Press l997

                      From Introduction by Thomas H. Meyer

                      Moltke, Steiner and the true German folk Spirit

                      "Inner development of culture, of faculties of the soul and the
                      spirit and of a cosmopolitan attitude-these were what Steiner (and
                      Moltke) saw as the principal mission of the German people. And
                      Moltke, who used to carry Goethe's Faust in his pocket during
                      maneouvres, had wished to place himself at the service of a Germany
                      with such aims. An impulse of this kind towards inner development
                      lay behind the words that Steiner wrote to Moltke in November
                      l915: `This destiny of the German people is bound up with the deepest
                      and most noble aims of human development.'

                      Moltke, at any rate, was well aware of the dangers threatening a
                      further real ascent of the German people, when he wrote to his wife
                      in 1904:'The German people as a whole is a pathetic society. Full of
                      politicians in ivory towers, lacking any trace of magnanimity, petty,
                      mean, full of envy and resentment, hateful and myopic-one can only
                      feel sorry for it. Everywhere tings are torn down, soiled, there is
                      slander and lies, and all in the guise of virtuous moral outrage.
                      Hypocrisy wherever you look, mean-minded egotism and crass
                      materialism. Ideals no longer have any validity, everything is outer
                      semblance. Whatever still stands is torn down, everyone seeks to
                      raise only himself, and when the great heap of ruins is complete, the
                      judgment will fall upon us.'

                      And Steiner once said: `If the German individual manages to truly
                      grasp the spirit, he is a blessing for the world: if he does not, he
                      is the world's scourge.'

                      Moltke of all people was the man to feel deeply the truth of such
                      words.



                      From The Sauerwein Interview with Rudolf Steiner for Le Matin about
                      the Events that led to the First World War, October l921

                      `You know that if one were to believe your opponents, the Chief of
                      the General Staff first lost his head and after that the Battle of
                      the Marne through your involvement."….

                      The fear of the truth

                      When I asked him directly about General von Moltke he directed his
                      intense gaze at me, his face lined with the traits of forty years of
                      the most arduous spiritual striving.

                      `What you are saying to me does not surprise me. There are people
                      who are doing their utmost to drive me out of Germany or possibly
                      even out of Switzerland. There are many different reasons for these
                      attacks. But insofar as they are aimed at my relationship with
                      Moltke, they have a very definite purpose. They are directed at
                      preventing the publication of some notes Moltke wrote down before his
                      death for his family and whose publication in book form I intended to
                      arrange in agreement with Frau von Moltke.

                      `These memoirs were due to be published in 1919. Immediately before
                      their publication I was visited by a personality (Hans Adolf von
                      Moltke) who was in charge of the diplomatic representation of Prussia
                      in Stuttgart: he came to tell me that this publication was impossible
                      ant that it would not be wanted in Berlin. Later a general (General
                      von Dommes) came to see me who had occupied various posts near
                      General von Moltke and Kaiser Wilhelm 11 and now presented the same
                      arguments to me. I protested against this and wanted to ignore
                      them. I thought that I might turn to Count Brockdorff-Rantzau who
                      was present in Versailles at that time; but nothing could be done.
                      My efforts remained unsuccessful for the further reason that at the
                      same time Frau von Moltke was presented with arguments she was not
                      ale to ignore.

                      `Why those fears? These memoirs are definitely not a accusation of
                      the Kaiser's government. But it can be understood from them, which
                      is possibly worse, that the government of the Reich was in a state of
                      total confusion and that its leadership was incomprehensibly
                      frivolous and ignorant. Those responsible are adequately described
                      by a sentence I have written in my preface: "It was not what they did
                      that led to disaster, but rather the whole nature of their
                      personalities".

                      `I may add that this was occasioned by the peculiar circumstances
                      which brought it about that n the end the total responsibility for
                      crucial decisions came to lie on one man, the Chief of the General
                      Staff, who felt compelled as a result to fulfil his military duty
                      because politics had reached a nadir. I never discussed military or
                      political issues with Moltke before his resignation. It was ol
                      later, when he was seriously ill, that he naturally spoke candidly
                      about all these matters to me, and as this will interest you, I will
                      tell you what he himself told me and what can also be read in his
                      unpublished memoirs.

                      `At the end of June l914, Moltke, who had been Chief of the General
                      Stff since l905 (1 January1906), went to Karlsbad for his health. Up
                      to the time of is death he knew nothing about a Potsdam council
                      meeting on 5 or 6 July. He did not get back to Berlin, wigh his
                      health restored , until after the ultimatum to Serbia. After his
                      return, he said, he was firmly convinced that Russia would attack.
                      He clearly anticipated the tragic development which mattes were going
                      to assume; that is to say he believed that France and England were
                      going to take part in the world conflict… the plan of the German
                      General staff in its main lines had been laid down a long time
                      previously. It had been devised by von Schlieffen, Moltke's
                      predecessor..

                      However, von Moltke had altered his predecessor's plan in one
                      important respect. Whereas schlieffen had mapped out a simultaneous
                      march through Belgiu and Holland, Moltke had given up the idea of
                      going through Holland in order to give Germany a chance to breathe in
                      the case of a blockade.

                      When Moltke arrived at the palace on 31 July he found himself in the
                      midst of utterly confused people. He had the impression, he said that
                      he had to make a decision all on his own. The Kaiser did not sign
                      the mobilization order on that day, an order which, in Germany, is
                      tantamount to a declaration of war, for as soon as such an order is
                      given, everything, including he first military operation, takes place
                      at fixed hours, automatically and inexorably. William 11 contented
                      himself for the day with declaring a "state of danger of war". The
                      next day, Saturday, 1 August, at 4 p.m. he had Moltke summoned again,
                      and during the next six hours the following drama unfolded.

                      `Moltke finds the Kaiser in company with Betman-Hollweg, whose knees
                      were literally shaking, the Mimister of War von Falkenhayn, General
                      von Plessen, Lyncker and some others. The Daise expresses himself
                      vigorously against the Chief of the Genera Staff's plan. He has, he
                      declares, received very good news from England. England would not
                      only remain neutral-it was King George who had informed him-but she
                      would even restrain France fro taking part in the war. Under these
                      conditions it was logical to hurl the whole army against Russia. No,
                      Moltke replied, the plan must be executed in East and West just as it
                      was conceived if we were not to cause a horrendous disaster..

                      The technical reasons

                      `Moltke is not moved by the objections raised, he refuses to change
                      anything… He does not believe the English dispatches, and holding in
                      his hand the mobilization order which has just been signed, he is
                      dismissed, leaving behind the others in a state of toal confusion…On
                      the way form the palace to the General Headquarters his motor car is
                      overtaken by another from the palace. Moltke is summoned back to the
                      Kaiser… He shows his Chief of the General Staff a dispatch from
                      England He sees in the dispatch positive assurances that the
                      conflict will be limited to the East and that England and France will
                      be neutral. "The army must immediately be given orders not to
                      proceed in the West", he concludes. Moltke replies that one must not
                      subject an army to a series of orders and counter-orders. Then the
                      Kaiser, with Moltke standing by, turns to the aide-de-camp (Colonel
                      von Tappen) and gives him orders to immediately convey to the command
                      of the 16th Division in Trier the order not to invade Luxembourg.
                      Moltke goes home. Deeply shaken, for he envisages that the greatest
                      catastrophe will ensue from such measures, he sits down at his table.
                      He declares that he cannot make the countermanding order needed to
                      carry out the Kaiser's telephone order. This order is submitted to
                      him for his signature by an aide-de-camp. He refuses to sign it and
                      pushes the document away. Until eleven o'clock at night he remains
                      sitting there I a state of dazed exhaustion in spite of having
                      returned I good health from Carlsbad. At eleven o'clock there is a
                      knock on his door. The Kaiser wants him back at the palace… Wilhelm
                      11 puts on his dressing-gown and says: 'Everything has changed. A
                      disaster is pending. The King of England has just stated in a new
                      dispatch that he had been misunderstood, and that he could not
                      enter, either in his name or in France's, into any commitment
                      whatsoever.' The Kaiser ends by saying to Moltke:' Now you may do as
                      you wish.' Now the war begins.

                      Ominous signs

                      `During the month of August, I saw General von Moltke only once, on
                      27 August in Koblenz. Our conversation was about purely human
                      concerns. The German army was still advancing victoriously. There
                      was no reason either to speak about what had not yet come to pass.
                      The battle of the Marne took place later. I had not seen Moltke
                      again up to that time. It took place under conditions which were
                      bound to deeply shake Moltke's expectations. In manoeuvres he had
                      several times carried out a cautious advance on the right wing which
                      might be used for an advance against Paris. Three times Kluck, who
                      had the supreme command over the right wing, advanced too fast.
                      Every time Moltke said to him: "If in real operations you advance as
                      fast as this we shall lose the war." When Kluck's army was about to
                      be surrounded Moltke was struck with a terrifying premonition:
                      Germany might have lost the war. This to me appears to be an
                      important part of the `Psychology" of the war's progress. When von
                      Moltke returned to headquarters on 13 September he gave the
                      impression of a deeply shaken man. The people around the Kaiser
                      considered him sick. From that time, it was in reality Falkenhayn
                      who commanded the army without having the official title. Later,
                      when Moltke was confined to his be, Wilhelm11 came to pay him a
                      visit. "Is it still I," he asked the Kaiser, "who am conducting
                      operations?" "I believe indeed that it is you," Wilhelm 11
                      replied. So for weeks the Kaiser did not even know who was the true
                      commander of his troops.

                      `Here is another illustration of the opinion that was entertained of
                      Wilhelm 11 by his own entourage. One day, when von Moltke was
                      describing to me the feelings of deep suffering he experienced in
                      going back through Belgium after the fall of Antwerp, I spoke to him
                      for the first time of the plan of attack by way of Belgium. "How did
                      it happen," I asked him, "that a Minister of War could bring himself
                      to say at the Reichstag that there had never been a plan for invading
                      Belgium?" "This Minister," Moltke replied, "did not know my plan,
                      but the Chancellor was familiar with it." "And the Kaiser?" "Never on
                      my life," said von Moltke. "He is too much given to talking and too
                      indiscreet. He would have told the whole world about it!"'
                    • holderlin66
                      The German Empire was founded at a time when these needs were converging on mankind. Its administrators did not understand the need for setting the Empire s
                      Message 10 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                        "The German Empire was founded at a time when these needs were
                        converging on mankind. Its administrators did not understand the
                        need for setting the Empire's mission accordingly. A view to these
                        necessities would not only have given the Empire the correct inner
                        structure; it would also have lent justification to its foreign
                        policy. The German people could have lived together with the non-
                        German peoples through such a policy.

                        "Insight should now mature from the calamity. One should develop a
                        will for the best possible social organism. Not a Germany which no
                        longer exists should face the world, but a spiritual, a political
                        and an economic system should propose to deal as autonomous
                        delegations, through their representatives, with those who crushed
                        that Germany which became an impossible social structure due to the
                        confusion of its three systems.

                        "One can anticipate the experts who object to the complexity of
                        these suggestions and find it uncomfortable even to think about
                        three systems cooperating with each other, because they wish to know
                        nothing of the real requirements of life and would structure
                        everything according to the comfortable requirements of their
                        thinking. This must become clear to them: either people will
                        accommodate their thinking to the requirements of reality, or they
                        will have learned nothing from the calamity and will cause
                        innumerable new ones to occur in the future."

                        http://wn.rsarchive.org/Books/GA023/English/SCR2001/GA023_appendix.ht
                        ml

                        Rudolf Steiner
                      • carol
                        Knowing oneself to be at one with the willing of the spiritual world gives one s soul the power of certainty in the course of one s life, however
                        Message 11 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                          "Knowing oneself to be at one with the willing of the spiritual world
                          gives one's soul the power of certainty in the course of one's life,
                          however disconcertingly the events of outer life may be raging around
                          the vessel of one's life." RS in a personal letter to von Moltke


                          More spirit wisdom from Letters and Verses from Rudolf Steiner; Light
                          For The New Millennium, Rudolf Steiner's association with Helmuth
                          and Eliza von Moltke, Letters, Documents and After-Death
                          Communications



                          Rudolf Steiner to Helmuth von Moltke Dornach, (9 February 1915)

                          I would like to tell His Excellency in a few sentences what has been
                          placed before my soul while thinking of you in spirit, from that side
                          of the spiritual world known to you:

                          `Human beings work in the world through their outer deeds in the
                          ordinary course of life; but when something spiritual is to be
                          realized through physical happenings significant things may be
                          achieved when a human being not only performs his deeds but connects
                          himself with the course of events in such a way that he bears
                          patiently what appeared to him hard to bear, and for which he needs
                          to overcome himself. This is what you have rightly achieved. It is
                          very positive that things have not reached a state detachment where
                          one's own will would have been in opposition to what was willed by
                          the outer world; that in fact everything has been done not to drive
                          this detachment beyond what was effected from the other side. Such
                          deeds are deeds of the soul life, and in that they are crucial forces
                          for helping to bring about a favorable outcome. It is significant
                          that a man exists who is willing to bring personal sacrifices to the
                          true love of the cause, who knows himself connected with the cause I
                          such a way that he willingly bears personal suffering for reason of
                          serving the spirit. In such a mood of soul the forces of the spirit
                          can work; and theses must work for things to take a favorable turn.
                          The guiding powers of the spirit are able to gather forces in this
                          personality during time of an apparent distance from the events, and
                          these forces will be need in the time before us.'

                          I have put these words in inverted commas for a good reason. There
                          is nothing in these sentences which I have just thought up. These
                          intuitions are rather an affirmation that I may speak to His
                          Excellency as I have indeed done in these times which have afforded
                          you such hard trials. My thoughts often go towards you and then to
                          those sources of the spiritual life which shape the direction of
                          earthly events, and then I may always bring back the satisfying
                          vision of your connection with the spiritual world. May you feel
                          with your whole being how what has been brought about through you is
                          in unison with the spiritual world, and may you recognize in the
                          consciousness of this unison the inner spiritual support which is
                          infinitely more secure than any outer supports man might find for his
                          existence. Knowing oneself to be at one with the willing of the
                          spiritual world gives one's soul the power of certainty in the course
                          of one's life, however disconcertingly the events of outer life may
                          be raging around the vessel of one's life. I know for sure that you
                          may experience this; may it spread throughout your soul and fill it
                          with utter clarity. Such is the way in which I often think of you,
                          Excellency, and I will continue to do so as your devoted
                          R. St.

                          Notes for Helmuth von Moltke (Dornach, 26 May 1915)

                          Notwithstanding all that is happening outwardly, inwardly everything
                          has remained as I have always described it to you. Keeping up one's
                          courage, mastering the difficulties, this is what needs to be done
                          without fail. With respect to this, new spiritual experiences
                          confirm the earlier ones. And if the will is quietly strengthened
                          and upheld it will be possible to achieve what has to be achieved.
                          Our trust in the world's spiritual guidance wil only grow strong
                          enough if it is hardened and steeled by experiences in the physical
                          world which, if they were merely taken to be such physical
                          experiences, might make us faint-hearted. After all, trust in what s
                          spiritual demands that we nurture t whatever may be happening in the
                          physical world. If I were to write down today what has been revealed
                          to me spiritually in the time since we met the description would not
                          look very different from what has been given earlier. And actually
                          it is this very fact which makes it so significant, so hopeful.
                          There are certain details which are new but as far as the general
                          thrust is concerned nothing has changed. Therefore it is necessary
                          to hold fast to what has been understood to be the right course so
                          far.

                          What is experienced in the satisfaction of the physical world as such
                          has run its course, has fulfilled its task, what is suffered has an
                          inherent causal power; it leads beyond itself. This is not altered
                          by the fact that suffering, too has its causes. It is, as it were,
                          the seed of that light which wants to be borne out of darkness. And
                          this light really does continue to appear in the way it did in all
                          those difficult times of suffering in the past. And all the
                          spiritual beings of which we have spoken keep on pointing to this
                          light, signifying that in it solace and strength and peace are to be
                          found.

                          The Spirit of the German people is with this light and whatever this
                          Spirit places within the gleam of this light will eventually find the
                          path. This spirit remains the Spirit with his torch raised, and
                          those who were around him continue to be around him and whoever is
                          protected by him is well protected These are the spiritual facts of
                          which we have often spoken; and what I have been allowed to know
                          today serves to confirm my seein of these facts.
                        • holderlin66
                          For all those have so easily got lost in what is the point of reviewing and recovering history, here is the point. The point is that the precise star rhythm
                          Message 12 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                            For all those have so easily got lost in what is the point of
                            reviewing and recovering history, here is the point. The point is
                            that the precise star rhythm pattern that brought about the
                            crescendo of events that shattered the 20th century appeared and
                            restarted their attack on the Grail history and Grail Sciences of
                            the 20th century by the year 1997 and are still crushingly striding
                            forward where we stand today in the current 2007. The 21st century
                            has been hijacked so far against the impulses of Mankind!

                            Therefore when we learn our lessons, when we look at current events,
                            we are being taught lessons that were also brought suddenly and
                            surprisingly to Europe. But here in the 21st century we must use
                            these lessons and thank souls like George Orwell and Steiner and all
                            those who have faced these hard trials and gleaned from them current
                            Michael Intelligence lessons. It isn't that we can wish it were
                            otherwise, the point is to see what it is and send it back out of
                            the dark corners where it lurks in humans wills. To diagnose and
                            remove it before it causes terrible, terrible chaos again.

                            Magnificent, giant Jupiter's swath, not only stirs the ethers but
                            the events that have produced the catastrophic plunge into the
                            middle east and Iraq, Iran, Syria...come from the super cell of
                            sorathian will intent, as powerful as streaming unconscious will
                            forces that come into the stagnating and ruptured heart of Dick
                            Cheney. His heart is a ruptured vessel that cannot contain and
                            refuses to contain and actively works against the building of the
                            new etheric heart we have discussed here. But his darkened will
                            along with those in Israel are moving unconsiously in a symphony of
                            dark orchestrated intent that is motivated by black lodges to
                            suffocate humanities relation to The Etheric Christ Sun. Suffocate
                            it and bury it in trivia or catastrophe.

                            The vast super-cell of a vast net of beings as powerful as a group
                            soul or Archai intent, has picked up the lazy and thoughtless region
                            of the American, British and Israel souls to repeat and plunge
                            humanity into a recapitualation of black lodge victories going back
                            to Kaspar Hauser. The stars have swept right around again to this
                            spot and on this spot currently in 2007, the unconscious will-
                            intelligence of subsensible beings have cunningly entered the
                            corrupt will and materialistic will forces of humanity again...and
                            just like Germany, America is blind to these powerful overshadowing
                            resurging victories of the black lodges as they reassert themselves.

                            If we were but conscious of the return pattern of the stars or that
                            the history of 20th century Grail Europe including physics science
                            of the soul and spirit out of Munich, that Steiner was there to
                            offer, were forced back to the humble and subdued Christmas
                            Foundation and the Foundation Stone, we might be able to laugh these
                            idiots back into their dark Orwellian corners. A Grail Science and a
                            Grail culture has its only hot point out of those souls who grasp
                            the reality of Michael culture and the current Michael Zeitgeist
                            goals.

                            To piece together the series of standard assassinations, spin,
                            numbing of the entire German folk and now America, Britain and
                            Israel, into the same schemes and the same delusions as 1914, we
                            might be able to hold onto the Grail Sciences history before it is
                            once more plunged into a whole new wave of world wide chaos and is
                            rewritten in the usual Orwellian fashion and lost. Lost like today
                            to the uneducated and scattered thought realm who have never heard
                            or couldn't even understand as the Christmas Conference or The
                            Foundation Stone. Just as today any truth about events in America is
                            being recast to blunt the education of our children and the future
                            so they won't see how sound asleep and what imbeciles we were that
                            we couldn't detox our will impulses and our cognition from those who
                            represent everything that is anti-man and anti-logos.

                            Steiner brought;

                            "The German people believed that its imperial structure, erected
                            half a century ago, would last for an unlimited time. In August
                            1914, it felt that the imminent catastrophe of war would prove this
                            structure invincible. Today, only its ruins are left. After such an
                            experience retrospection is in order, for this experience has proved
                            the opinions of half a century, especially the dominant thoughts of
                            the war years, to be tragically erroneous. What are the reasons
                            behind this erroneous thinking? This question must induce
                            retrospection in the minds of the German people. Its potentiality
                            for life depends on whether the strength exists for this kind of
                            self-examination. Its future depends on whether it can earnestly ask
                            the following question: how did we fall into error? If the German
                            people asks itself this question today, it will realize that it
                            established an Empire half a century ago, but omitted to assign to
                            this Empire the mission which corresponds to the inner essence of
                            its people."

                            "... `the decisive events in Berlin'. The memoirs of General Helmuth
                            von Moltke, Chief of the German General Staff at the outbreak of the
                            war, were ready for publication in May 1919. Von Moltke describes
                            the German Government's attitude at that time, especially on 31 July
                            and 1 August 1914: `The atmosphere grew steadily more tense and I
                            was completely alone.' Then he was told by the Kaiser, `So now you
                            can do whatever you want.'

                            "Rudolf Steiner wrote in a commentary: `So there it was: the Chief
                            of the General Staff stood completely alone. Due to the fact that
                            German policy had reached the zero-point, Europe's destiny on 31
                            July and 1 August rested in the hands of a man who was obliged to do
                            his military duty.' (Vorbemerkungen zu Die Schuld am Krieg,
                            Betrachtungen und Erinnerungen des Generalstabschefs H. von Moltke.)
                            Aufsätze über die Dreigliederung des Sozialen Organismus.
                            This `military duty' involved implementing the German army's
                            predetermined war-plan, prepared by von Moltke's predecessor General
                            Schlieffen, which provided for the domination of France before
                            invading Russia. France was to be attacked through Belgium and
                            Holland. Von Moltke modified the plan to the extent that Holland was
                            omitted.

                            "His memoirs were suppressed in 1919, but Rudolf Steiner, who was
                            personally acquainted with him, was familiar with their contents. In
                            an interview which appeared in the French newspaper Le Matin in
                            October 1921, Steiner said that the memoirs should have been
                            published in 1919, but they were suppressed because of fear on the
                            part of the authorities. `Why this fear? These memoirs are in no way
                            an accusation against the imperial government. Something else is
                            involved, which is perhaps even worse: that this imperial government
                            found itself in a state of complete confusion and under an
                            incredibly frivolous and ignorant leadership.' Jules Sauerman's
                            interview with Dr. Rudolf Steiner on the unpublished memoirs of the
                            late Chief of the German General Staff von Moltke.

                            "What About Parallels Between 1914 (WWI) and 1997?

                            "The scary thing about this 83-year precise "Jupiter Return," where
                            generalized historical events may be repeating themselves, is that
                            we are fast approaching 1997. In that year, we will not only have a
                            repeat of the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction in early Aquarius from
                            March 3-4, 1914 (the date in 1997 for this Jupiter-Uranus union will
                            be February 15-16), but Jupiter--throughout 1997--will be recrossing
                            his steps (to the degree and to the day) from 1914. It was during
                            1914 that World War I began--particularly with the assassination of
                            the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary on June 28, 1914 (by
                            the way, I am writing this story on June 28, 1995) and the "Guns of
                            August," the nightmarish launching of war in Europe in early August
                            1914. In June 1997, Jupiter at 22 Aquarius will be stationing
                            retrograde right where he stationed in June 1914 and, of course, on
                            the 83rd anniversary of the assassination of the Archduke--June 28,
                            1997--Jupiter will be at 21+ Aquarius (exactly where Jupiter was on
                            June 28, 1914)! Keep in mind that the beginning of World War I in
                            1914 was actually the birth of both world wars. World War II came
                            about because the peace treaty imposed upon Germany in November 1918
                            was reviled by militaristic Germans and the Nazis eventually broke
                            every agreement within that peace treaty in their efforts to
                            reconquer Europe."
                          • holderlin66
                            The Project for the New American Disaster by Tom Chartier http://www.lewrockwell.com/chartier/chartier60.html holderlin brought: Not only is this not a war
                            Message 13 of 25 , Feb 5, 2007
                              The Project for the New American Disaster
                              by Tom Chartier

                              http://www.lewrockwell.com/chartier/chartier60.html

                              holderlin brought:

                              "Not only is this not a war and it is based on the roots of
                              disrupting the Logos from achieving the goal of intimacy of human
                              thinking, it is a poltical Sorathian surge as outlined and
                              anticipated by Steiner's Anthroposophy and nailed dead clear as a
                              train wreck, as the arrival of The PNAC, Project for a New Ahrimanic
                              Century dead on in 1997. It follows in the rhythm pattern of 1913/14
                              dawn of WW I etc..etc...picking up the pattern and impress of the
                              planets. This indirect and direct attack through torture against the
                              Logos in Man and the Michael Nation is brought in order to derail
                              humanity from building the faculties to approach the Angelic world
                              through our heart thinking."

                              Steiner brought;

                              "The German people believed that its imperial structure, erected
                              half a century ago, would last for an unlimited time. In August
                              1914, it felt that the imminent catastrophe of war would prove this
                              structure invincible. Today, only its ruins are left. After such an
                              experience retrospection is in order, for this experience has
                              proved the opinions of half a century, especially the dominant
                              thoughts of the war years, to be tragically erroneous. What are the
                              reasons behind this erroneous thinking? This question must induce
                              retrospection in the minds of the German people. Its potentiality
                              for life depends on whether the strength exists for this kind of
                              self-examination. Its future depends on whether it can earnestly
                              ask the following question: how did we fall into error? If the
                              German people asks itself this question today, it will realize that
                              it established an Empire half a century ago, but omitted to assign
                              to this Empire the mission which corresponds to the inner essence of
                              its people."

                              The Michael School can see the intimate recapitulations of strong
                              negative will forces that are turned back at us again, you might say
                              focused and reflected, rayed back into the unconscious human will
                              riding on the rhythm of the sorathian surge predicted out of 1998.

                              If, as Steiner brought, we were conscious or the German people were
                              conscious of their cultural mission....calamity, catastrophe and
                              absorbing the dark forces into our will stream, could never have
                              happened if we had time stamped our motives with human conscience
                              and seen ourselves as the spiritual family and spiritual beings that
                              we are. Compare where the Intellectual Soul attempts to come to
                              grips with itself.

                              "During the summer of 1924 a former German Army corporal languished
                              in relative luxury in Landsberg Prison. With time on his hands he
                              dictated a turgid book of twisted thoughts to one of his loyal
                              cronies. With a gift for oratory, the prisoner had risen to leader
                              of a fledgling political party. An idealistically naïve and inept
                              attempt to overthrow the struggling government by force had failed,
                              landing the leader behind bars.

                              Volume One of the book was first printed in the autumn of 1925 and
                              initially sold a meager 9,473 copies. Sales dropped further to only
                              3,015 by 1928. Even when sales did increase, the book was not often
                              read by those who bought it. It was a prerequisite display
                              of "political correctness" to be placed in view on the mantle. The
                              book laid out very specifically a plan for the forceful expansion
                              towards more "living space" into Eastern Europe coupled with rabid
                              racism so severe it called for the extermination of an entire race
                              of people. The book was titled Mein Kampf – My Struggle in English.

                              One wonders, had German citizens bothered to read the book and give
                              it serious thought, would Germany and the world have been spared
                              unparalleled disaster?

                              WW II, its cause and its carnage, is now alive only in the pages of
                              history books. Offering accounts that are unimaginable to and thus
                              misunderstood by new generations, such works of history are
                              selectively remembered by governments with their own modern agendas.
                              For most people today, the complex causes of WW II have been reduced
                              to the most simplistic terms of good versus evil. It is never that
                              simple.

                              The world is six years into a new century. Unfortunately, the new
                              century has not handed the world a clean slate with which to start
                              civilization over again. Sadly, old men do not forget. Last
                              century's grudges and feuds are alive and well in this century. With
                              angry intolerance and dreams of conquest, mankind continues to grab
                              at empire.

                              Enter the Project For The New American Century.

                              Well known to those who actively follow national and world
                              developments, PNAC along with other think tanks governing national
                              policy such as The American Enterprise Institute, operate beyond the
                              view of the average American who listens to talk-radio on the way to
                              work. And yet such think tanks exert an enormous influence and power
                              over the future of the United States and with it mankind. Woe to
                              those who do not see through the rationale and revisionist history
                              used by these think tanks to justify their agenda.

                              In its Statement of Principles, dated June 3, 1997, The Project for
                              the New American Century spelled out its philosophy and agenda. For
                              those who bothered to read it, little doubt was left concerning what
                              was in store for the 21st century. The PNAC Statement is reprinted
                              in its entirety below with comments.

                              "American foreign and defense policy is adrift. Conservatives have
                              criticized the incoherent policies of the Clinton Administration.
                              They have also resisted isolationist impulses from within their own
                              ranks. But conservatives have not confidently advanced a strategic
                              vision of America's role in the world. They have not set forth
                              guiding principles for American foreign policy. They have allowed
                              differences over tactics to obscure potential agreement on strategic
                              objectives. And they have not fought for a defense budget that would
                              maintain American security and advance American interests in the new
                              century.

                              We aim to change this. We aim to make the case and rally support for
                              American global leadership."

                              Although touting itself as a voice of "conservatism," PNAC evidences
                              little genuine conservative philosophy. Lord Salisbury warned of
                              this very thing. Paul Smith writes: "Salisbury had little taste for
                              colonization: he could see that all too often it was a convenient
                              pretext for the robbery of the weak, and he was doubtful whether the
                              advantages it brought offset the heavy expense and commitment
                              incurred."

                              "Radical" would be a more apt description for PNAC policies. In the
                              military jargon of "strategy" and "tactics," a call is made
                              for "American global leadership." What exactly are these "American
                              interests" that PNAC wants to "advance"?

                              The Statement of Principles continues:

                              "As the 20th century draws to a close, the United States stands as
                              the world's preeminent power. Having led the West to victory in the
                              Cold War, America faces an opportunity and a challenge: Does the
                              United States have the vision to build upon the achievements of past
                              decades? Does the United States have the resolve to shape a new
                              century favorable to American principles and interests?

                              In short, with the break up of the U.S.S.R. there is no country
                              strong enough to stop the U.S., therefore we must strike now… while
                              the iron is hot.

                              We are in danger of squandering the opportunity and failing the
                              challenge. We are living off the capital – both the military
                              investments and the foreign policy achievements – built up by past
                              administrations. Cuts in foreign affairs and defense spending,
                              inattention to the tools of statecraft, and inconstant leadership
                              are making it increasingly difficult to sustain American influence
                              around the world. And the promise of short-term commercial benefits
                              threatens to override strategic considerations. As a consequence, we
                              are jeopardizing the nation's ability to meet present threats and to
                              deal with potentially greater challenges that lie ahead. We seem to
                              have forgotten the essential elements of the Reagan Administration's
                              success: a military that is strong and ready to meet both present
                              and future challenges; a foreign policy that boldly and purposefully
                              promotes American principles abroad; and national leadership that
                              accepts the United States' global responsibilities."

                              Did the United States under president Reagan actually lead the West
                              to victory in the Cold War? Or did Reagan's forceful policies and
                              rearmament combine with the implosion of the U.S.S.R.'s failed
                              economy as the Russians lost their ill-advised war in Afghanistan?

                              Does the U.S. have decades of international achievements on which to
                              build and of which to boast? WW I was fought to a standstill with
                              the U.S. participating in the final year, 1918. In WW II, Nazi
                              Germany suffered greatly by the perpetual British and U.S. aerial
                              bombardment; however, it was the onslaught of the Russian Red Army
                              that dealt National Socialism the deathblow. Through attrition of
                              resources, tiny Imperial Japan's 1941 aggression against the U.S.
                              never had a chance against the expanse of America.

                              How about Korea? Vietnam? Are these achievements of past decades to
                              build upon in a quest for a New American Century? And don't forget
                              America's achievements in the little third world. The U.S. has been
                              busy inside countries of no threat to, and with no possibility of
                              defense against the mighty U.S. war machine. As stated by AEI Neocon
                              Michael Ledeen: "Every ten years or so, the United States needs to
                              pick up some small crappy little country and throw it against the
                              wall, just to show the world we mean business."

                              Are these policies something to boast of and build upon
                              as "successes?"

                              While feeding their own paranoia, the "thinkers" at PNAC are
                              rationalizing their own delusions of grandeur.

                              "Of course, the United States must be prudent in how it exercises
                              its power. But we cannot safely avoid the responsibilities of global
                              leadership or the costs that are associated with its exercise.
                              America has a vital role in maintaining peace and security in
                              Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. If we shirk our responsibilities,
                              we invite challenges to our fundamental interests. The history of
                              the 20th century should have taught us that it is important to shape
                              circumstances before crises emerge, and to meet threats before they
                              become dire. The history of this century should have taught us to
                              embrace the cause of American leadership."

                              "Prudent" in the exercise of power? Since when? How can any sentient
                              being consider Michael Ledeen's
                              statement "prudent?" "Peace?" "Security?" Where? In the Middle East?
                              This is merely a smoke screen of "morality."

                              What is important in this passage is the carefully worded hint of
                              preventive war. To hell with "intelligence" and concrete proof,
                              we'll make that up as we go along. The ends justify the means. It is
                              America's "fundamental interests," and claims to the world's
                              remaining oil supplies, which must be protected. Morality does not
                              enter into it.

                              "Our aim is to remind Americans of these lessons and to draw their
                              consequences for today. Here are four consequences:

                              we need to increase defense spending significantly if we are to
                              carry out our global responsibilities today and modernize our armed
                              forces for the future;
                              we need to strengthen our ties to democratic allies and to challenge
                              regimes hostile to our interests and values;
                              we need to promote the cause of political and economic freedom
                              abroad;
                              we need to accept responsibility for America's unique role in
                              preserving and extending an international order friendly to our
                              security, our prosperity, and our principles."
                              These are not "consequences." These are statements rationalizing
                              conquest through force.

                              Increase defense spending? The United States spends billions more
                              on "defense" than is needed to defend her borders. The United States
                              is protected both to the east and west by vast oceans and has non-
                              hostile neighbors to the north and south. No nation in the world
                              could seriously contemplate an invasion of U.S. borders as a matter
                              of foreign policy. The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 were
                              not a militaristic act of a hostile state but a brutal terrorist
                              attack of a privately funded, fringe group of radicals scorned and
                              feared by many of the Middle Eastern nations. It was not an
                              invasion. It was not a state-sponsored act of war.

                              What PNAC actually means is: increase "military spending for
                              offense" and for the benefit of the military industrial complex in
                              order to serve aggressive pursuit of a bigger empire.

                              Challenge hostile regimes? In other words, destroy nations that do
                              not kowtow to our demands. The mighty U.S. will threaten to bomb
                              them back into the Stone Age to show we mean business.

                              Promote political and economic freedom abroad? Is this best
                              accomplished at the point of a gun? What about political and
                              economic freedom at home? Must America's Constitution and civil
                              liberties be discarded in the New American Century? Evidently so.

                              Accept responsibility for what? Creating a Militaristic Empire for
                              the power hungry neoconservatives? The United States is responsible
                              for the United States, not for the world. The U.S. is not the global
                              guardian. Last I heard, the United Nations was supposed to fill that
                              role.

                              "Such a Reaganite policy of military strength and moral clarity may
                              not be fashionable today. But it is necessary if the United States
                              is to build on the successes of this past century and to ensure our
                              security and our greatness in the next."

                              No doubt, PNAC's Statement of Principles is attractive to those
                              Americans who love to be number one and care little how they get
                              there.

                              The Greatness of America is a delusional falsehood which has been
                              fostered by our schools, movies, television and newspapers. America
                              and the PNAC have bloated egos claiming to be the saviors of the
                              world. Was 9/11 evidence that the world may not share this view? To
                              the eyes of the world community, we are the bullies to be feared…
                              and hated. "Such a Reaganite policy of military strength and moral
                              clarity" may have become fashionable with PNAC thugs but it lacks
                              not simply "moral clarity" but morals entirely. It is nothing more
                              than Empire building madness. America's white hat is splattered in
                              blood.

                              Note the signatories. Many are familiar names within the current
                              Democratic Dictatorship of secrecy and privilege. And this list is
                              only a fraction of the Neocons driving towards the disaster of the
                              New American Century.

                              Elliott Abrams, Gary Bauer, William J. Bennett, Jeb Bush, Dick
                              Cheney, Eliot A. Cohen, Midge Decter, Paula Dobriansky, Steve
                              Forbes, Aaron Friedberg, Francis Fukuyama, Frank Gaffney, Fred C.
                              Ikle, Donald Kagan, Zalmay Khalilzad, I. Lewis Libby, Norman
                              Podhoretz, Dan Quayle, Peter W. Rodman, Stephen P. Rosen, Henry S.
                              Rowen, Donald Rumsfeld, Vin Weber, George Weigel, Paul Wolfowitz

                              One member of PNAC, whose name is not shown on this list, is PNAC
                              chairman and co-founder William Kristol. Kristol has just joined
                              Time magazine as a columnist. About Kristol one might quote Ayn
                              Rand's description of: "a journalist who wrote that it is proper and
                              moral to use compulsion 'for a good cause,' who believed that he had
                              the right to unleash physical force upon others – to wreck lives,
                              throttle ambitions, strangle desires, violate convictions, to
                              imprison, to despoil, to murder – for the sake of whatever he chose
                              to consider as his idea of 'a good cause,' …since he …relied solely
                              on his own 'good intentions' and on the power of a gun." [Ayn Rand,
                              ATLAS SHRUGGED, Part II "Either-Or," Chapter VII "The Moratorium on
                              Brains," p 605]

                              In late August of 1939, with Austria annexed to Germany and
                              Czechoslovakia occupied by the Third Reich, one "only had to look at
                              a map to see who was next, Poland." An attack by fake Polish
                              soldiers on a German radio station in Gleiwitz was staged by the
                              German S.S. In retaliation, Germany's blitzkrieg poured across the
                              border into Poland on September 1st, 1939. It was the opening day of
                              WW II.

                              Early victories were impressive. Six years later, Germany lay in
                              ruins.

                              Vigilance could have prevented WW II. Germany failed to understand
                              the message of Mein Kampf. Germany could have taken action to
                              prevent its own destruction. Today, the most aggressive nation in
                              the world, the United States of America, is building up military
                              forces around another "crappy little country," Iran. Under the guise
                              of spreading peace, security, freedom and democracy the U.S.
                              blitzkrieg of Iran is almost certain.

                              The policies of PNAC threaten endless war in a savage re-shaping of
                              a fearful world.

                              The Project for the New American Century issued a warning to America
                              and the world on June 3, 1997. All one had to do was read it and to
                              look at the map. God help us all."
                            • holderlin66
                              R.S. The arrogance and superciliousness of those who imagine themselves to be practical, but whose practicality is the disguised narrow-mindedness which has
                              Message 14 of 25 , Feb 5, 2007
                                R.S.

                                "The arrogance and superciliousness
                                of those who imagine themselves to be practical, but whose
                                practicality is the disguised narrow-mindedness which has in fact
                                induced the calamity, must cease. Attention should be paid to what
                                those who are decried as idealists, but who in reality are the
                                practical ones, have to say about the evolutionary needs of modern
                                times."

                                Bradford comments on the Consciousness Soul standpoint;

                                The stars in meaningful justification return to sender all those
                                unconscious impulses that truly fail to awaken the keys that unlock
                                our human mystery. It isn't merely what goes around comes around,
                                but rather what was failed to be understood, learned or digested
                                will continue to drag us into ever deeper and deeper unconscious
                                morasses.The stars and the cosmos return to sender, unconscious will
                                forces that are returned for a redo, a redux, marked: failed to
                                learn the lessons of why we sit in this cosmos in the first place.

                                In this instance of Time study, I am not referring to how individual
                                lessons are redone and remade by making an entirely new incarnation
                                blueprint to correct Karmic errors. In this instance we are
                                following the nearer generational lessons that the immediate planets
                                and the immediate stars return to us, that humanity failed to use
                                and digest consciously to unlock the cosmic riddle.

                                Now what do we mean? We mean that our lack of technical curiosity,
                                our lack of objective scientific interest in how these mighty
                                wonders have unlocked the mystery of the Christ and achieved such
                                mighty results, have very much to do with our serious
                                considerations, or complete lack of serious considerations, of how
                                Zarathustra, after great efforts, achieved the ability to emancipate
                                and offer a highly developed, independent model of his own human
                                etheric body to students. Technically we have to bring into our
                                consciousness an understanding for the amazing Formative Field
                                etheric forces that levitate plants upwards, bear fruit, seed,
                                flower, disperse, wither, die -- operate in more complexity in
                                animals and achieve the height of complexity in the working man.

                                Obviously it meant that Zarathustra became highly familiar with the
                                etheric forces of the plant, the group etheric forces that model and
                                shape breeds and animals and the complex physics of the human
                                etheric body. This was part of Zarathustra's schooling. The
                                schooling that Zarathustra integrated again and again through his
                                many reincarnations into a language field, where Zarathustra could
                                unfold and digest his insights into the objectivity of the etheric
                                body achieved RESULTS!

                                Where Zarathustra grasped Angel, Archangel and Archai and in each
                                scientific field Zarathustra excelled and moved along and was able
                                to reproduce the process itself. Reproduce the experiment and get
                                the same results again and again, proved clearly to Zarathustra that
                                there was a Science of the Spirit and he was hot on it's trail.

                                When it came to the mighty Elohim, the cognitive excellence of
                                Zarathustra and his grasp of what the cosmos is, what stone, plant,
                                animal and man are and how they became this way, his investigations
                                and explorations were warmly appreciated by the gods and even caught
                                the Eye of the great Sun Being. Because Zarathustra approached the
                                how, and why and could connect to it inwardly, all the tumblers and
                                meaning of humanity could click into place, because a human being
                                grasped his part of the bargain of how the interior, biological,
                                anatomical, astral, etheric and physical realities were set in the
                                skeleton stone.

                                But Zarathustra and the cosmic I AM knew that the cornerstone was
                                rejected by flunked out students like Jung, as unable to support
                                reality. The cognitive schooling that was at the core of all these
                                mysteries, the I AM, was the invisible operating force that was the
                                new thing to Earth. This invisible thing, not made with hands,
                                seemed unimportant to many striving souls.

                                We don't get results because we are not curious about the nature of
                                the levity factor, the rising factor of the Spirit of Form and
                                Etheric system that we see in plants, animals and the complex system
                                in humans. Zarathustra got results, scientific and star justified,
                                cosmos justified, and accurate results because he grasped the human
                                etheric body and was able to bequeath a working model of it to some
                                of his pupils. A working model of a highly developed, complex human
                                etheric body could be reproduced, emancipated by Zarathustra and
                                offered to significant pupils as they progressed. Zarathustra could
                                reproduce it and bequeath it, like grafting, primitively speaking,
                                like grafting is to plants so the operative skills of the etheric
                                body, the Ka, could be part of the research and potential skill sets
                                of future students.

                                Next Zarathustra worked intelligently through the forces of the
                                stars that operate in the astral body. The details of his work and
                                the results where Angels understood and Zarathustra planned with the
                                Angelic and mighty Sun Being, how to bring about the intersection on
                                the Earth of landing two vessels, two Jesus children, landing these
                                with all the complicated workings of the stars and TIME, into a
                                precise and CONSCIOUS location, are based on the facts of the
                                science of the human being and getting specific results when we are
                                accurate in our thinking and I AM system.

                                If we are accurate, then even the Angels recognize the star wisdom
                                in the human heart and mind. Even the Angels and Archangels
                                cooperate if the human being can grasp their wisdom as his own. The
                                accuracy of that star wisdom that the Angels live within and with
                                allowed Zarathustra to get results. Zarathustra could emancipate an
                                advanced copy, a model of a working astral body. An astral body that
                                was penetrated by the thinking I and had within it specific
                                discoveries and intuitions that any objective scientist or
                                researcher would discover for themselves. Some of these science
                                insights are now sitting in the public domain as Grail Sciences and
                                Spiritual Science.

                                Zarathustra accurately was able to make copies of not only his
                                etheric methodolgy and his etheric body, but also was able to
                                emancipate and reproduce an independent model of his astral body.
                                The results of all of these integrations are the science system we
                                know that must be grasped as Physical, etheric, astral, I AM,
                                Sentient Soul, Intellectual Soul, Consciousness Soul and the higher
                                attributes, Spirit-Self, Life-Spirit and Spirit-Man.

                                If humanity continues to do all of its thinking unconciously and
                                remains influenced and pressed by the dark unconscious forces of the
                                hidden beings that influence his will, he will merely stumble along
                                unable to understand the difference between Light and Darkness. When
                                humanity continues to repeat errors over and over again then the
                                stars send these failed scientific and war like social aggressions,
                                back on humanity for a redux. The stars send our lessons back to us,
                                the senders, and give us an F in unfounded and undeveloped moral and
                                scientific theory. Unaccepted, try again! We as humanity once more
                                encounter these same unconcious blunders and mirrored errors in
                                similiar forms until we can detox them and learn the lessons of the
                                cosmos consciously.

                                Reality responds when humanity becomes conscious of how the parts of
                                the complex time mechanism of man fits into a whole. The carnival,
                                the media circus and our own cleverly manufactured Ahrimanic Sun of
                                the nuclear age was placed there so that humanity had seemed to have
                                gotten results. Nice try but wrong, dead wrong! Wrong light and all
                                moral substance, utterly removed...dead light, you found dead light,
                                not living light and not only that the light that you found
                                continues to kill and does not continue to heal. These are man made
                                results.

                                The Christ Event contains actual scientific results of clear
                                thinking that reveal the highest level of physics and light
                                condensed through the moral fiber of the human I AM. With the event
                                of Golgotha and all of the factors associated with Golgothat, that
                                founded the scientific thinking that got such overwhelming results,
                                these are all part of the Grail Sciences that Orwellian history
                                revisionists wish to dismiss, deny and destroy. In other words the
                                actual cornerstone of the cosmos, the I AM, and Logos that sits in
                                the stone of the physical, is truly spirit.

                                http://www.ibiblio.org/eldritch/jkh/gr7.html

                                Now when we examine the levity of light and the pure etheric full
                                floating and rising form of the fully impressed Spirit Man rising
                                from the schooling that humans got right, that they understood with
                                scientific clarity, that they could make the models for and redux
                                and repeat the experiment again and again, with scientific accuracy,
                                they knew that they were now understanding the intricate physics of
                                the human being. The intricate physics, for lack of a better
                                concept, of that light which quantum mechanics seeks...and what
                                quantum mechanics seeks within the activity of light, might very
                                well be contained in the first lines of the Gospel of St. John. That
                                is why Steiner would have brought a morally grounded physics science
                                to Munich and named it the Johannes Bau. Why?

                                "The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not
                                understood it. He was in the world, and though the world was made
                                through him, the world did not recognize him." (John 1:5,10)

                                …..." 12[And Jesus said to them,] "I am the light of the world.
                                Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the
                                light of life." 13The Pharisees challenged him, "Here you are,
                                appearing as your own witness; your testimony is not valid." 14Jesus
                                answered, "Even if I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is
                                valid, for I know where I came from and where I am going. But you
                                have no idea where I come from or where I am going… 23…"You are from
                                below; I am from above. You are of this world; I am not of this
                                world."

                                Instead of a manufactured poison Ahrimanic circus act, a bright
                                poison light without moral substance, Steiner would have gladly
                                connected the dots of Light and Love to the moral framework and core
                                of the human being as the Science of being Human, a Grail Science
                                and the mission and meaning of why Steiner would have intercepted
                                those physics scientists in Munich and unriddled the opening verses
                                of the John Gospel for them and for all mankind.

                                The intricate integration of the etheric timepiece and the vast, yet
                                specifically shrink wrapped Star navigation system that each person
                                carries as the results, in their Dodecahedron enclosed system, of
                                our TWELVE cranial nerves, is part of the physics systems of human
                                beings. We each have sucked and inverted into us an individualized
                                cosmic map. In this core, and along the walls of the skull, the star
                                map glitters and sparkles like vivid and animated cave paintings and
                                visual impressions, memories, dreams and reflections that allow us
                                to strike out and capture time impressions from the past as well as
                                the future.

                                We own a sensitive light house beacon, a light sensitive pineal
                                gland, that when schooled and awakened, not only picks out and
                                differentiates different thought spectrum bands, different thought
                                spectrum light fields from individuals who think, but is slowly able
                                to see the qualities of Time Beings and the qualities and aspects of
                                Spiritual Beings. The Pineal is an Eye that detects thoughts and
                                qualties and Steiner nailed it in the Philosophy of Freedom by
                                saying it is an organ for the peception of thought. Our brains and
                                directly our pineal embedded Eye, diferentiates different light and
                                ideas, thoughts and Beings, infinite different spectrums and learns
                                to read this light from within the enclosed dark chamber of the
                                skull.

                                Humanity must continue to fail at it's repeated star exams and the
                                Michael School at this juncture is re-encountering the rejected and
                                unconscious impulses that promoted the chaos of the 20th century and
                                returns again in another form and another generation to rob us of
                                the 21st century. The robbing and hijacking of the 21st century are
                                the results of our failure to see the repeated pattern and
                                unconscious dark intent of beings, yet it is also a challenge for
                                the Michael School to see the details of what Steiner wrestled with
                                in TIME, within a conscious Zeitgeist relationship and offered as
                                clarity to the German people. We can fathom and track the meaning of
                                this same clarity today, but with greater insight, greater vision
                                and greater understanding because Rudolf Steiner forged a path ahead
                                of us and prepared the next generation of Michael students to read
                                the signs of the times.

                                http://wn.rsarchive.org/Books/GA023/English/SCR2001/GA023_appendix.ht
                                ml

                                We in western civilization will continue to fail and have these
                                impulses thrust back in our faces in a more and more severe
                                Orwellian fashion unless we learn the Science of Man. Spiritual
                                Science reveals the accurate Scientific data that Zarathustra worked
                                through. It was bequeathed to Steiner so that Steiner could present
                                this data in his most excellent Scientific thought world process and
                                stand as a conscious Being, presenting the Schooling that the Logos
                                expects and accepts as excellent.

                                When I look at the biodynamic calendar it is vastly different for
                                the plants and the accuracy of the science of the etheric world,
                                than if someone follows some computerized horoscopes taken from the
                                internet. The positions of the Sun, Moon and planets are not correct
                                so that even when we measure the stunted and inaccurate horoscopes
                                against the active and living RESULTS that come from biodynamics, we
                                clearly understand that we have taken a giant step closer to reality
                                and scientific results by having biodynamic accuracy before us.

                                Biodynamic food tastes differently, richer, and the techniques are
                                approached with more wisdom and moral substance because they are
                                based on corrected and renewed clarity regarding the growth of
                                plants, the seasons and the activity of the stars themselves.
                                Zarathustra would have no problem with Biodynamics. He certainly
                                would know the etheric inside out and well enough as a Bodhisattva,
                                that he could bring vast improvements to agriculture and the secret
                                remedies of the world.

                                The question for those who claim to have anything to do with
                                scientists are just how very happy they are when they seem to get
                                results. Products that come off the assembly line like our Hydrogen
                                or nuclear results, prove that there is an anti-human direction that
                                perverts, yes you heard it, perverts human common sense and shifts
                                it into results without ethics. Shifts corporate and multi-national
                                militaristic motives into the mix of what it considers results that
                                profit the corporate entity. This perversion and fragmentation of
                                the science of man, is what we offer our children and invest all our
                                money so that our children will have an education that promotes
                                perversion of the intellect. Eisenhower warned America but we have
                                failed to keep watch over our own dark intents.

                                We will lose the connections and results of understanding the
                                Science of the Grail if we lose the 20th and the 21st centuries and
                                they get buried under the debris of World Wars and chaos again. We
                                are too simplistic and too naive to think through and support real
                                understanding of Grail Sciences and recover history and Spiritual
                                Science so that it shines and glows in pristine purity from
                                classrooms everywhere. We already wading through the debris of the
                                19th and 20th century attacks on the Consciousness Soul and Grail
                                Sciences. Each person has to clarify their own intelligence and
                                parents have to be true guardians, not in the sense of fake
                                fundamentalism, but in vast and well grounded spiritualized humanism
                                that supports the vistas and vision of the I AM.

                                This Do in Remembrance of Him. "That the Lord Jesus the same night
                                in which he was betrayed took bread: And when he had given thanks,
                                he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken
                                for you: this do in remembrance of me" (1 Cor. 11:23­24).

                                He took the cup, saying: "This cup is the new testament in my blood:
                                this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me. For
                                [whenever] ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye [proclaim] the
                                Lord's death till he come" (1 Cor. 11:25­26). He said that this
                                sacrament would be done in remembrance of Him. "This do in
                                remembrance of me" were His words (Luke 22:19).

                                And as Christ is the actual Etheric Sun of the moral Earth, when we
                                understand that to be a Grail Science, is to understand how
                                difficult and how hard it is to find Spiritual Science buried in the
                                impulses of The Christmas Conference and humble Angelic call to
                                mankind of "The Foundation Stone". To find, locate and clearly grasp
                                the obscure location that Parsifal could barely refind, and only
                                found after maturing, is the challenge of grasping the very hidden,
                                humble and obscure reality and RESULTS, when the Cosmos says Yes, as
                                it did with the Christ Event. Finding Grail Sciences and the thread
                                of history through the storm that is presented is truly a Parsifal
                                task. It is a Parsifal task make no mistake.

                                The Goetheanum remains, obscure, hidden and out of reach and has all
                                the earmarks of the full and astonishing tale of the obscure path
                                required to find the Holy Grail. And Steiner, Michael, Wagner,
                                Kaspar Hauser and vast numbers of individuals wanted humanity to
                                have this Grail wisdom, and we must keep it alive or it will get
                                utterly lost in watered down Orwellian history and lies.
                              • carol
                                `The greatest misfortune is the harbinger of the greatest redemption `On earth one sees the destruction, yet in the destruction is contained already the seed
                                Message 15 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
                                  `The greatest misfortune is the harbinger of the greatest
                                  redemption'

                                  `On earth one sees the destruction, yet in the destruction is
                                  contained already the seed of renewal.'

                                  These words of wisdom are derived from the `after-death messages'
                                  which Rudolf Steiner received from the then disincarnate Helmuth von
                                  Moltke, in 1919 and which he(RS) effectively documented. They
                                  appear in the volume `Light For The New Millennium' (Rudolf Steiner
                                  Press l997). I have transcribed some passages from several of these
                                  messages because I found that they add to the insights which we, as
                                  incarnated souls, are able to generate amongst ourselves concerning
                                  our present task in light of what we experience outwardly and what we
                                  have understood through contemplating Steiner's lectures. These are
                                  by no means the only insights available in this book, I only stopped
                                  at a given moment.

                                  These communications may offer some comfort to readers, since they
                                  touche upon what relevance suffering may have towards the greater
                                  picture of humanity's strivings…

                                  In one passage, when referring to the twenty first century, the being
                                  of HvM indicated that `everywhere there will be centers of
                                  spiritual will and deed'. I imagine that the internet has
                                  effectively sealed this truth, even though there also exists today
                                  many centers in the physical sense.

                                  That which is striking and yet conveyed in a most familiar manner is
                                  the `reality' that discarnate souls are quite engaged in the great
                                  spiritual tasks of world, even when they are not here. Also, that
                                  they depend on the thoughts which incarnate souls generate within
                                  themselves in order to be able to contemplate the lofty ambitions of
                                  their own future return.

                                  One could also note the sense that `the greater picture' in which we
                                  are now engaged on a physical level, contains very many details which
                                  we inevitably find hard to ascertain in our present incarnate
                                  condition. I've noticed that at times, in exchanges on topics of
                                  spiritual science, that various people will affirm a truth, but
                                  almost immediately afterward, affirm another one which is
                                  strikingly clothed with perception dependent on physical reality. I
                                  guess that we all have to all learn to be vigilant in developing our
                                  abilities to feel for what is living in a spiritual sense when
                                  something is communicated to us, and recognize through feeling,
                                  that which is encased in impressions derived from sense perception.

                                  I thoroughly enjoyed Bradford's latest post in which he focused on
                                  bridging scientific perception to the spirit world. I felt that I
                                  should retrieve these 2 passages from the Bible "The light shines in
                                  the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. (John 1:5) " 12
                                  [And Jesus said to them,] "I am the light of the world.Whoever
                                  follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of
                                  life." Light and darkness continue to be discussed even from the
                                  world beyond.

                                  In the `after death messages' one can gather a sense that a bridge
                                  has been established between both the below and at the same time,
                                  taking into account the great turmoil which occurs in the `below';

                                  Out of obstruction the spirit seeks
                                  For strong supports, which may bear it
                                  As in the dawning, the light reveals itself
                                  As the bearer of the forces of destiny.
                                  With spiritual bonds, both here and there
                                  We shall strive together
                                  To seek both now and ever more
                                  The meaning in true life. (message23, 23 march 1919)


                                  In the following messages, `she' `El's' refer to the being HvM's
                                  still incarnate wife. `It' could refer to one form of a constant,
                                  conscious spiritual reality.


                                  38. Message of 29 January l918

                                  In human life the soul can take hold of something long before
                                  consciousness takes hold of it. The bodily organization is often an
                                  obstacle to understanding consciously what the soul has taken hold of
                                  already. For consciousness requires for its instrument a certain
                                  organization, be it a physical one between birth and death or a
                                  spiritual one between death and a new birth. The soul alone may well
                                  experience something but not be able to understand it consciously.
                                  However, man can only comprehend the experiences of his soul through
                                  his physical body if this physical body can be imbued with the fully
                                  developed spirit-organism. Yet it is often the physical body itself
                                  which presents an obstacle to that. It is a bliss to realize in
                                  retrospect that the suffering one has endured originated there.

                                  The suffering one has endured presents a very different picture when
                                  one looks back on it at a later time..

                                  Wakefulness is necessary, in the narrow as well as in the wider
                                  contexts. There s a lot of chaos on earth. The spiritual, however,
                                  is as if blunted. Human beings will first have to prepare their
                                  souls by developing a feeling for the spiritual world. Then the
                                  spiritual world-waiting to be understood-will be there to help.

                                  James1, 17 `Every gift which is truly good and every perfect present
                                  descends to us out of the higher world from the Father of lights I
                                  whom there is no alternation and no phases of light and darkness.'

                                  39. Message of 8 February 1918

                                  …In the context of the present spiritual constellation it seems good
                                  to me now that I was scarcely drawn into an active role in the
                                  battles in the East. This enables me to make spiritual connections
                                  with many eastern souls. The chaos there will only gradually take o
                                  the forms that it must eventually come to. My view of the tasks that
                                  come to me from the East is unobstructed to the extent that I have
                                  worked directly in the West and only indirectly in the East. Thus
                                  what was puzzling down there is now clear. The East is awaiting a
                                  task for which I must prepare myself by the next century. Earthly
                                  institutions must then be founded which will be an image of spiritual
                                  ones. `She' and others who are linked with us are to work together on
                                  this.

                                  A spiritual wilderness is now spreading over the earth. The `old
                                  man' can see this now, too. How he will stand in relation to the
                                  task that lies before us is not yet clear. In the twentieth century
                                  there will be a great deal of materialism which will be even more
                                  powerful in the twenty-first century. But everywhere there will be
                                  centers of spiritual will and deed. That is where the task will
                                  lie. In the `forms' of Dornach which I can now feel, I can see lines
                                  which are preparing something which in future will enable one soul to
                                  understand another more inwardly.

                                  …Wakefulness is needed. I cannot see everything very clearly in this
                                  area. But I can see a crisis. In essence there is much that has
                                  built up over many years which is now moving towards a crisis. While
                                  I was alive I faced this with some anxiety. This anxiety now has a
                                  baleful effect when I look at the critical situation…Nevertheless, it
                                  is essential to be wakeful on earth.

                                  It has a warming effect on me that `she' now has `it' with her
                                  again. Now is the time for something spiritual between them to join
                                  on to what was there before, which is important for the future and
                                  for the task. There is more at work in `it', than `it' itself
                                  knows. This has to do with the fact that `it' was also an
                                  intermediary to the spiritual world for my soul. We had to go
                                  through spiritual experiences in which there was much that was
                                  unconscious. `It' has to remember many things from those days. By
                                  this means, `it' will be able to help a great deal in the present and
                                  in the future. `She' will need much wakefulness now. In the company
                                  of `it' this wakefulness will gain in strength. When the two are
                                  together there lives a force in my soul which serves to make me
                                  strong for the `task'…

                                  …Whatever happens, `she' should follow the dictates of `her'
                                  understanding; if one does not always appear to come to the right
                                  thing, it is only apparently so and later, subsequent events will
                                  show what was right…

                                  …the greatest misfortune is the harbinger of the greatest
                                  redemption: many who are on earth will learn of this, but will only
                                  gradually come to experience it. Spirits who now strive to work in
                                  souls on earth freeze in spiritual coldness that works like fire, and
                                  consumes the effect….

                                  40. Message of 1 March l918

                                  …It is now possible for me to view objectively what is going on in
                                  the small details and in the major events of life on earth. Early
                                  sufferings are often the starting points for processes of spiritual
                                  development. Let `her' be aware that I am with `her', let `her' see
                                  what is happening now as necessity. `She' must not let her heart be
                                  troubled by events, but must connect her thoughts with the fact that
                                  by means of these events, things of the future are coming to pass,
                                  which must come to pass. The spirit must destroy many things in
                                  order to build anew. On earth one sees the destruction, yet in the
                                  destruction is contained already the seed of renewal.

                                  We often see pass away
                                  What on earth has been built
                                  Yet what is truly coming to pass
                                  Seen rightly in the spirit
                                  Reveals in earthly night
                                  To the seeking light of the soul
                                  The developing might of spirit
                                  And sufferings are not
                                  What on earth they seem
                                  They are in full truth
                                  What they spiritually mean
                                  In the kingdom of soul clarity

                                  `El's' individuality was connected with us differently to that
                                  of `it'. `El' must first bring into consciousness how she belongs to
                                  us. She must find the strength to be conscious out of suffering.
                                  She is now holding back an old power in order to gain a new one. My
                                  soul must be with her so that `she' may find the right way Events
                                  can be confusing. Wakefulness will lead to what is right at the
                                  right moment. No good is done by saying at the outset: `This and
                                  this should happen', one must wait and see what circumstances require.

                                  Looking back at the moment of my `rebirth', at the beginning of this
                                  century, is the lifeblood of my soul; looking back at the time of my
                                  suffering before my present entry into the spiritual world gives me
                                  the spiritual air I breath. Thinking through with `her' what karma
                                  has woven through us over the centuries gives light of day to my
                                  soul. Let `her' see the manner in which I live with her in this
                                  way. I must hold fast to these great connections in my soul, so that
                                  I can live wit those things which move her in the realm of time.
                                  For the being who is no longer embodied, those temporal things which
                                  come up to him from those who are close to him on earth, enabling him
                                  to share in their lives, are like the objects in a room for one who
                                  is living. The latter cannot see these objects, however close they
                                  may be, unless the light of the sun shines into the room. In the
                                  spiritual world, this sunlight is provided by insight into the great
                                  spiritual connections. In earthly life one might have the perspective
                                  even as an older person of a few decades. Out of the body, one must
                                  direct the gaze of the soul across centuries. And this gaze across
                                  the centuries must be illuminated by the understanding which one has
                                  been able to acquire through contemplating ideas of how things relate
                                  to one another in the greater dimension of the spirit. ..In the life
                                  of the spirit, one has constantly to re-enliven the thought with
                                  one's own life of soul, just as, in life on earth, the physical body
                                  must constantly breather in fresh air. Thus it is also good when
                                  tried and tested thoughts keep coming up from those who are still
                                  living in the body.
                                • Valerie Walsh
                                  ... Hey, hey, my, my... ... They do make an excellent grilled cheese there. ... for ... so ... fish ... I never watched Meet your Meat but I liked Store Wars a
                                  Message 16 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
                                    --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "chanting_om"
                                    <blue_star_in@...> wrote:

                                    > Well that is just the most amazing song! I have one for you.. I
                                    > picked it up in India. Its called Journey to infinity, it is so
                                    > beautiful, haunting.. bamboo flute.. and its 14.27 minutes long.
                                    >
                                    > I'll put it on right now.

                                    Hey, hey, my, my...

                                    > Hong Kong.. I'm not in Hongkong ! Otherwise I would have had a
                                    > grilled cheese sandwich with a touch of worscestor sauce long ago !

                                    They do make an excellent grilled cheese there.

                                    > NO ! I am on an island which is 50 percent covered with rainforest
                                    > and I am more or less in the middle of it. Now there are shops on
                                    > campus but they don't stock anything that you and I would
                                    > recognise..in fact the vast majority of food is fresh vegetables,
                                    > meat and fish.
                                    > I watched that film on smirking chimp about Meet your Meat so that
                                    > causes considerable conscience problems now, everytime I put a drop
                                    > of milk in my tea or think of a cheese sandwich I must apologise
                                    for
                                    > my weaknesses. The other day I thought Okay I will buy some fish,
                                    so
                                    > I go down to the market and this woman has a whole row of large
                                    fish
                                    > with the heads cut off who are still alive balanced on their necks,
                                    > gulping air and rolling their eyes. The rest of their bodies have
                                    > already been cut up and filleted.

                                    I never watched Meet your Meat but I liked Store Wars a lot.

                                    > But on the otherside of the rainforest - south - there is Sanya
                                    and
                                    > to the north there is Haikou.. :) (and cheese sandwiches and butter
                                    > and what happened to the cows...?)
                                    >
                                    > Could that have been one of your songs that you unburied...?

                                    No, couldn't have been-I did sing the National Anthem once but that's
                                    a sing along.

                                    > Anyway perhaps we can borrow some books from the library and there
                                    is
                                    > definately a hotel ! Do you know how to fly?

                                    Nahhhh, never took it up but that's a long story.-Val
                                  • Valerie Walsh
                                    ... http://moviesnooneshouldsee.wordpress.com/2006/12/12/27/
                                    Message 17 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
                                      --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, Shakti <blue_star_in@...> wrote:

                                      > What an amazing poem I will present it to my students !
                                      > Its lovely

                                      http://moviesnooneshouldsee.wordpress.com/2006/12/12/27/
                                    • Mark Willan
                                      Hi everyone I set out a few more pieces of the mosaic of what is going on across the planet: RS referred to the Apocalypse of the Mount of Olives (Matt 24,
                                      Message 18 of 25 , Feb 14, 2007
                                        Hi everyone

                                        I set out a few more pieces of the mosaic of what is going on across the planet:

                                        RS referred to the Apocalypse of the Mount of Olives (Matt 24, Mark 13 and Luke 2:15-33)   as specifically referring to the time of the Second Coming - ie of the etheric Chirst - that is now.

                                        It is well worth reading all 3 passages for the insights they give on our present time.

                                        I also recently learned that the "curse of the psuchotherapist" was the inablility to fall in love - how telling and what preparation for a campaign by the adversaries of human development.

                                        For both Sorath and Ahriman hide from human awareness in order to better manipulate mankind, and they aim to produce resuklts which karma cannot later compensate for.

                                        We can however, consciously work inwardly to counter these currents: 

                                        firstly by learning and meditating on the lessons for each of us from the state of grace that being in love is, which is an archetype of our future relations with each othert (I am the Vine and you are the branches- and see the Discourses of the Last Supper in John), and 

                                        secondly by realising that those humans we identify as doing evil (and whose victims we may also be) are often acting out of a misguided conviction that they are right. The Nazis were mostly convinced they were doing the right thing, and this is a lesson we should learn.

                                        It is very rare for anyoen to consciously choose to do evil, but it is more often that people become compromised and cannot see the way out. 

                                        If we cannot empathise, and find a way through their guard, we can never hope to bring them round to a correct way of thinking - living thinking. Foe example, by attacking GWB we will only cut short any dialogue - if we look for the positive in his approach (the desire to take responsibility, however misguided, etc,) living thought seeds can be sown which may yet change the world.

                                        For even if they are our enemies, such people whio give us trails often turn out to be our truest friends, by makign sure our own development is not a fake - by ensuring that we stop trying to take the splinter out of our briother's eye and work on the beam in our own.

                                        The real work to be done to change the world is on ourselves, the microcosm. When we haev changed that, the macrocosm must inevitably follow.

                                        That is why a number of inner workers have now been gathering, sent by forces of fate, to the orient - to prepare the spiritual onslaught against the forces of Ahriman being arrayed in the West.

                                        Miraculous spirit growth has occurred in newly Christian China, and we can see that allied with the forces of the etheric Christ, a shift in world view is actually a possibility as a mass movement, to be nurtured and founded here.

                                        At the moment, we are in a kind of pralaya, in which the seeds for this are being sown in spirit.

                                        We shall be intensifying work inwardly to perfect ourselves, to ready ourselves for the great work that remains to be done.

                                        So should we all, IMHO.

                                        For we want our lives to be a blessing don't we, not a burden on humanity.

                                        And let us remember, that it is mankind's karma to develop and grow - which means if we do not do so consciously without pain, we will learn the hard way. That is the way it works - just look at life around you.

                                        Let us also remember that the destiny of mankind rests not just in our own hands, but in those of the Logos. To quote Gandhi, for a time the forces of oppression can appear invincible, but they never last.

                                        Nor can they this time. 

                                        Just my tuppence worth.








                                        Mark Willan

                                        21 Balmoral Park
                                        #02-14 Pïnewood Gardens
                                        Singapore 259850

                                        Tel: +65 64040702
                                        Mob: +65 9019 4314





                                      • holderlin66
                                        In French, alternate history novels are called uchronie. This neologism is based on the word utopia (a place that doesn t exist) and the Greek for time,
                                        Message 19 of 25 , Feb 15, 2007
                                          "In French, alternate history novels are called uchronie. This
                                          neologism is based on the word utopia (a place that doesn't exist) and
                                          the Greek for time, chronos. An uchronie, then, is defined as a time
                                          that doesn't exist. Another occasionally-used term for the genre
                                          is "allohistory".

                                          "The earliest example of alternate history appears to be Book IX,
                                          sections 17-19, of Livy's History of Rome from Its Foundation. He
                                          contemplates the possibility of Alexander the Great expanding his
                                          father's empire westward instead of eastward and attacking Rome in the
                                          4th century BC.

                                          19th century

                                          "In the English language, the first known complete alternate history
                                          is Nathaniel Hawthorne's short story "P.'s Correspondence", published
                                          in 1845. It recounts the tale of a man who is considered "a madman"
                                          due to his perceiving a different 1845, a reality in which long-dead
                                          famous people are still alive such as the poets Burns, Byron, Shelley,
                                          and Keats, the actor Edmund Kean, the British politician George
                                          Canning and even Napoleon Bonaparte.

                                          Bradford comments;

                                          Recovering history and understanding psychology allows us to examine
                                          an author who felt the sting of two universes, two different grooves
                                          of time and the ZeitGeist. The author had good reason for this
                                          experience and not exactly the same reasons that a Michael School
                                          student might have.

                                          On the other hand, when you examine the evidence you might clearly
                                          understand that the writer who brought, "Blade Runner", "Total Reall"
                                          and "The Minority Report" also had a twin sister whose death and
                                          spirit hovered over Dick through his whole life. Dick's writing career
                                          was an effort in trying to reconcile a hovering experience that
                                          brought his gaze to the vicinity of how two worlds interact. In Philip
                                          K. Dick himself there attempts to break into his experiences from a
                                          parallel psychology aother world, another history, an alternative
                                          history, behind the history that we accomodate or pacify ourselves
                                          with.

                                          To those who are training themselves to look into the etheric world,
                                          to understand that for instance, the manufactured world of worship
                                          that was created with the rise of the Ahrimanic Sun, brought humanity
                                          to it's fearful pagan quivering knees, because it manifested a poison,
                                          inhuman, murdering light that fit the bill of how we imagined the
                                          wrath of god. In this lie we see and live currently in an alternate
                                          universe. We are just too cognitively weak to take hold of real ideas,
                                          so we tend to meld them and mush them together in the soul.

                                          And that same god we worship today as we threaten Iran with nuclear
                                          attack is an Ahrimanic god, that has stepped in, with all our world
                                          wide media glorification, and adoration, to eclipse, just at the right
                                          moment, eclipse from the view of the world, the rise of the Human
                                          Cosoms of Mankind and The Etheric Christ Being who mastered for
                                          humanity the entire future model of the SPirit Man. We see an
                                          alternative universe and an alternative history.

                                          This future model of Spirit Man must be attained within a vast sweep
                                          of long term human development that follows Earth with Jupiter
                                          evolution and Venus and Vulcan evoltuion... and the names, like Vulcan
                                          have all been hijacked and woven into pop culture trivia and the sound
                                          and imagination of the word divorced from the unfolding reality of how
                                          humanity has grown from Ancient Saturn as a mere seed of warmth, Old
                                          Sun, adding an etheric superstructure, and Ancient Moon evolution with
                                          an astral body and nervous system design, and Earth, with it's Iron
                                          and Sun like blood forces that respond to compassion, love, and
                                          courage and bears the signature of a time being, a reincarnating i am
                                          in dipping in and out of the stream of ongoing time. These are rich
                                          thoughts and thought that can keep a human being sober while he
                                          navigates the Zeitgeist.

                                          But Philip K. Dick, got his form of initiaiton the hard way. He felt
                                          very clearly his dead twin sister. We can use the hovering soul of his
                                          sister, as a kind of orbiting lunar reflection that hovered over
                                          Dick's soul and cast into his thought sphere, refractions, prismatic
                                          refractions, that partially had intuitions from the world of the dead
                                          and the spiritual world and partially mangled constructs of science in
                                          modern materialism. Dick wrote to reconcile these extremes in himself,
                                          but unable to define the soul or spirit as the science that should be
                                          there.

                                          "Philip Kindred Dick and his twin sister, Jane Charlotte Dick, were
                                          born six weeks prematurely to Joseph Edgar and Dorothy Kindred Dick in
                                          Chicago. According to various accounts, Dorothy was unable to properly
                                          feed and care for the newborns, and Jane was badly burned by an
                                          electric blanket. Dick's father, a fraud investigator for the United
                                          States Department of Agriculture, had recently taken out life
                                          insurance policies, and an insurance nurse was dispatched to the home.
                                          Upon seeing the malnourished Philip and injured Jane, the nurse rushed
                                          the babies to the hospital, but baby Jane died on the way there, five
                                          weeks after her birth (January 26, 1929). The death of Dick's twin
                                          sister had a profound effect on his writing, relationships, and every
                                          other aspect of his life, leading to the recurrent motif of
                                          the "phantom twin" in many of his books."

                                          "In summarising Philip K. Dick in his history of science
                                          fiction, "Trillion Year Spree", Brian Aldiss commented: "All his
                                          novels are one novel . . ." But it goes further than that, because the
                                          premise behind virtually all his writing is a subjective view of
                                          reality, an almost paranoid obsession with things being other than
                                          they seem. Suppose you discover that you have been leading a false
                                          existence or, worse still, one imposed on you by those in positions of
                                          authority."

                                          "Throughout February and March 1974 he received a series of visions
                                          which he collectively referred to as 2-3-74, shorthand for
                                          February/March 1974. He described his initial visions as laser beams
                                          and geometric patterns, and occasionally brief pictures of Jesus and
                                          ancient Rome, which he would glimpse periodically. As the pictures
                                          increased in length and frequency, Dick claimed that he began to live
                                          a double life, one as himself and one as Thomas, a Christian
                                          persecuted by Romans in the 1st century A.D. Despite his past and
                                          continued drug use, Dick accepted these visions as reality, believing
                                          that he had been contacted by a god-entity of some kind, which he
                                          referred to variously as Zebra, God, and, most often, VALIS."

                                          Dick's writing, "The Man in the High Castle" underwent its point of
                                          divergence from our own world due to the assassination of President
                                          Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1933. He was succeeded by Vice President John
                                          Nance Garner, who was subsequently replaced by John W. Bricker.
                                          Neither man was able to revive the nation from the Great Depression,
                                          and both clung to a isolationist policy related to the oncoming war.

                                          Due to poor U.S. economic performance and isolationism, Britain and
                                          the rest of Europe fell to the Axis Powers. Russia collapsed in 1941
                                          and was occupied by the Nazis, while most of the Slavic people were
                                          exterminated. The Slavic survivors of the war were confined
                                          to "reservation-like closed regions". The Japanese completely
                                          destroyed the United States' Pacific fleet in a much more expansive
                                          attack on Pearl Harbor. Due to Japan's expanded military capabilities,
                                          it was able to invade and occupy Hawaii, Australia, New Zealand and
                                          the Southwestern Pacific in the early forties. After this, the United
                                          States fell to the Axis, with many important cities suffering great
                                          damage.

                                          By 1947, Allied forces had surrendered to Axis control. The Eastern
                                          Seaboard was placed under German control while California and other
                                          western states ceded to Japanese rule. The Southern United States was
                                          revived as a quasi-independent state (as a Nazi puppet state like
                                          Vichy France). The Rocky Mountain States and much of the Midwest
                                          remained autonomous, being considered unimportant by either of the
                                          victors, as well as a useful buffer. At the end of the war, the
                                          British leaders and generals were tried for war crimes (e.g. the
                                          carpet bombing of German cities) in a parallel of the Nuremberg Trials.

                                          After Adolf Hitler was incapacitated by syphilis, the head of the Nazi
                                          Party Chancellery, Martin Bormann, assumed the leadership of Germany.
                                          The Nazis created a colonial empire and continued their mass murder of
                                          races they considered inferior, murdering Jews in the puppet United
                                          States and other areas they controlled and mounting massive genocide
                                          in Africa. However, unlike the Nazis, the Japanese had no policy of
                                          cleansing the occupied areas of "unwanted" races.

                                          Nazi Germany continued their rocketry programs, so that by 1962, they
                                          had a working system of commercial rockets used for inter-continental
                                          travel and also pursued space exploration, by sending rockets to the
                                          Moon and Mars. The novel also mentions television as being a new
                                          technology used in Germany.

                                          Meanwhile Japan continued more peaceful, but certainly not democratic
                                          rule, over much of Asia and territories within the Pacific Ocean. Like
                                          the United States and the Soviet Union after our own world's World War
                                          II, the Japanese and the Germans are distrustful of one another. Nazi
                                          Germany and the Japanese Empire both possess nuclear weapons and are
                                          mired in their own Cold War.

                                          During the novel, Martin Bormann dies and other Nazis such as Joseph
                                          Goebbels and Reinhard Heydrich challenge to become Reich Chancellor
                                          (German: Reichskanzler). Various factions of the Nazi party are
                                          described as either seeking war with Japan or being more interested in
                                          colonizing the solar system"

                                          http://www.answers.com/topic/the-man-in-the-high-castle

                                          Bradford concludes;

                                          Our examinations hinges on the defeat, or retreat of Michael Zeitgeist
                                          Grail Science schooling, that was planned and a model of the building,
                                          the Johannes Bau, for Munich was made by Steiner, but Anthroposphy
                                          retreated and was boxed into Dornach, and reduced to Biodynamics world
                                          wide sciences; Medical hospitals with Anthro/and regular medical
                                          doctor training; Waldorf Education and a host of centers around the
                                          world that are living off of the Christmas Conference, The Foundation
                                          Stone, and the verified states of consciousness that surpass the
                                          limitations of Jungian psychology and rest on an intangible but solid
                                          experience of The Etheric Christ event that was on the rise as early
                                          as the dawn of the Age of Light, 1899.

                                          The question is, do you consider yourself a flaky and insane human
                                          being if you follow the science laid down by Rudolf Steiner, Science
                                          of the Spirit? The question remains, certainly most common sense views
                                          of the matter refer to Dick's twin sister as an early childhood source
                                          point where a two soul contact, two souls one on earth and the other
                                          experiencing the conflicts near the threshold, might it not be the
                                          source point of that which spurred Dick's entire biographical struggle
                                          with twin realities?

                                          How would materialistic science and its effect on a human being's
                                          thinking mix with sporatic influences from the world of the dead?
                                          Dick appears to my thinking as someone, like Rod Serling, Robert
                                          Heinlein and his "Stranger in a Strange Land". Heinlein inserted into
                                          culture a paradox of how Buddha and St. Francis on Mars was strongly
                                          and unconsciously experienced by Heinlein in his time between death
                                          and a new birth....Science Fiction was a partial method of the
                                          transformation of the Mars forces of the intellect.

                                          Philip K. Dick wrote;

                                          "Several years ago, when I was ill, Heinlein offered his help,
                                          anything he could do, and we had never met; he would phone me to cheer
                                          me up and see how I was doing. He wanted to buy me an electric
                                          typewriter, God bless him—one of the few true gentlemen in this world.
                                          I don't agree with any ideas he puts forth in his writing, but that is
                                          neither here nor there. One time when I owed the IRS a lot of money
                                          and couldn't raise it, Heinlein loaned the money to me. I think a
                                          great deal of him and his wife; I dedicated a book to them in
                                          appreciation. Robert Heinlein is a fine-looking man, very impressive
                                          and very military in stance; you can tell he has a military
                                          background, even to the haircut. He knows I'm a flipped-out freak and
                                          still he helped me and my wife when we were in trouble. That is the
                                          best in humanity, there; that is who and what I love."
                                        • holderlin66
                                          Take out your Main Lesson books Spiritual Science students. Today we are offering the Giant s Heart a discourse on current events. Bradford brought; That is
                                          Message 20 of 25 , Feb 16, 2007
                                            Take out your Main Lesson books Spiritual Science students.
                                            Today we are offering the Giant's Heart a discourse on current
                                            events.

                                            Bradford brought;

                                            "That is why when we look at the disturbed heart condition of Dick
                                            Cheney, we understand the disturbed condition of his heart in
                                            relation to the great heart of the world."

                                            Bradford adds;

                                            Now this is where true thinkers rise and poor thinkers fall by the
                                            way side. Poor thinkers with limp souls cannot and refuse to make
                                            the connection that we are about to make. The connection that we are
                                            about to make is to the Giants Heart. Presently being vice president
                                            of the greatest super power on the planet, the United States, makes
                                            Dick Cheney a heartless Giant. Now what kind of giant is Dick
                                            Cheney? What is wrong and where is his heart if it has such trouble
                                            finding the rhythm and keeping beat with the heart of the world?
                                            Thesee are all simple questions with surprisingly simple answers
                                            that with Jungian insights and vague imaginations we certainly will
                                            not find many people left in the U.S. who can digest rich insights
                                            and see imaginations with the intimate clarity that students of
                                            Spiritual Science may.

                                            Of course we can and we have in the past brought into the argument
                                            aspects of the U.S. involvement in America's fall into fascism and
                                            how Dick Cheney truly plays a very significant part in where we
                                            would raise the question of Ahrimanic ailments of the soul and
                                            malfunctioning disconnection of a human heart to the heart of the
                                            world. These Sorathian Spiritual Science and Ahrimanic patterns we
                                            have traced with precise historical relationships that have picked
                                            up the patterns of the dawn of 1914 and the surge of military
                                            ahrimanic intent that is currently riding on the same historical
                                            rhythm that led Cheney to sign and bring forward the pre-emptive
                                            Imperialism of the PNAC or Project for a New Ahrimanic Century at
                                            the crack of light of the dark arising of 1997/8.

                                            For Cheney and big Oil middle eastern chaos must continue to erupt.
                                            The world's supply of oil must be owned and kept by the United
                                            States. This is U.S. policy. Pre-emptive attacks on innocent
                                            countries murdering tens of thousands with escalation of torture and
                                            fair trials gone the way of Nazi Germany...along with the U.S.,
                                            Britain and Israel, a nasty triad that is sinking to Sorathian
                                            levels of dark lodge intents, all this must continue for Amerika to
                                            dominate under Cheney's heartlessness.

                                            What type of imagination hovers around the leader, the actual black
                                            Lodge mouthpiece of someone who cannot adjust his heart to the
                                            actual heart of the world? We will present the diagnosis in a fairy
                                            tale. That way those with true understanding of diagnostic pictures
                                            and imaginations will have something extremely vital to point to
                                            when they point to the reality behind the fall of the United States.
                                            And we grant that all of us know that the real idea of terrorism is
                                            not anywhere close to the representative reality of the heart of the
                                            world, but if it were black ops and terrorism, it would match up
                                            with what Dick Cheney wants to project all around him and America
                                            with torture chambers over the globe... a Giant Darkness.

                                            Now the second wave of Michael Intelligence might very well
                                            understand the problems that exist in the subtext of history vs that
                                            of recovering Grail history, the Etheric Christ and the human heart,
                                            or the aspect of Justice and the aspect of understanding that as a
                                            human being, if such a bad heart serves a dark master, it is better
                                            to get a new heart and a new incarnation rather than continue on
                                            with such an icy corrupt and cold heart. Dick Cheney has had his
                                            heart removed.

                                            The Heartless Giant

                                            [Note when the word Giant appears INSERT, Dick Cheney}

                                            On the whole, there's absolutely no need to be frightened by Giants.
                                            Giants are gentle souls, perfectly harmless, and very affectionate.
                                            Unless, of course, the Giant has no heart in his body.

                                            Think of all kinds of unpleasant things and add Giant to them and
                                            that's what you get when a Giant has no heart. Such a Giant once
                                            terrorized a county in the far north of the world, near the very
                                            top. He'd hidden his heart. It gave him too much trouble, all those
                                            Giant Feelings, too much pain. In its place was a wasps' nest. About
                                            to swarm. Put your ear to his chest and you'd hear an angry buzzing
                                            noise.

                                            This Heartless Giant could shake a man and shuffle his wits. He
                                            could crack a skull with his fist like a walnut. And frequently did.
                                            Until, at last, the old King of that country, as good as the Giant
                                            was bad, trapped him in a giant trap and locked him in a cell. There
                                            the Giant crouched, an inch of the outside world to look at, the
                                            damp dripping from the walls, the dull rattle of his chains, his low
                                            angry growl a ceaseless rumble through the King's castle.
                                            Years passed in this was until the Giant's voice had grated away to
                                            the hoarsest whisper and folk had quite forgotten about Giants with
                                            no hearts. And he'd be there still, in his foul pit, were it not for
                                            a little boy whose name was Leo.

                                            Leo was the King's youngest son. He had two brothers who were
                                            bigger. Prince Leo could leave not stone unturned, no passage
                                            unexplored, no drawer unrammaged, so incurably curious was he. One
                                            morning, scouting the far and deep of the castle, he came across a
                                            tiny, barred window set in the bottom of a huge gray wall. Looking
                                            through it, Leo saw nothing buy dank dark pitch black. But as he
                                            turned away he imagined he heard a stir, and then came a growl, a
                                            low buzz of a growl. It was a frightening sound.

                                            His brothers told a Giant with no heart lived in this prison with
                                            the tiny window. He didn't believe them. They were older, his
                                            brothers, and forever teasing him. But the next day he went back,
                                            carrying his drum. "Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," he played outside the
                                            window. From inside the dark dank pitch black he heard a rattle,
                                            like the rattle of a chain. He crept to the window and squinted into
                                            the shadows. Two eyes blinked back at him. Leo jumped. A wasp buzzed
                                            angrily through the bars. Leo ran off. It was true, there was a
                                            Giant!

                                            All night Leo thougth about the Giant, his eyes, the low rumbling
                                            growl. Next morning, he was back, "rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," on his
                                            little drum. The Giant was waiting for him. When Leo tiptoed to the
                                            window, he was there, whispering hello. The Giant told Leo that long
                                            ago he had done some bad things and that the King had locked him up.
                                            Leo couldn't imagine what these bad things were. He worried about
                                            the poor Giant, stuck down there in terrible chains. He lit a candle
                                            and held it to the hole.

                                            The Giant was so big he had to crouch with his chin on this knees
                                            and his elbos bent. He looked to Leo like a huge sad baby, his
                                            yellow eyes screwed up against the candle's sudden glare. Leo said
                                            he would speak to his father, it wasn't fair the Giant had been
                                            locked up for so long; he must have been forgotten. "No," croaked
                                            the Giant, all anxious. "If you say anything, they'll make me stay
                                            down here forever and I shall surely perish." The eyes blinked
                                            nearer. "Would you like to be my friend?"

                                            Leo was elated. "Oh yes, yes please!" "Good. Good," said the Giant.
                                            Good, thought Leo; I have a secret friend. Good, thought the Giant
                                            who had shed his heart at last. And he sighed a chill sigh and
                                            planned chill plans, while the young prince skipped back along the
                                            path, swinging the iron gate behind him, caressing his secret,
                                            nurturing it, back to his room.

                                            And so it began, the friendship between the huge, crouching Giant
                                            and the little Prince. Every day, the boy would appear, rat-tat-
                                            tatting on his drum. Every day he'd tell a little more, hear a
                                            little more, until he felt he knew no one better, that no one knew
                                            him better. Oh, he wanted to tell the whole world about his friend.
                                            But the Giant said, "Out secret," and Leo agreed, although he would
                                            have loved to tell his mother or his two brothers or somebody. But
                                            he couldn't so he shouldn't, so he wouldn't so he didn't. The Giant,
                                            meanwhile crouched in his blackness and schemed. And so it was that
                                            one day he told Leo he'd heard a Guard saying that the King slept
                                            with the keys to the Giant's chains hanging on a ring by his bed.
                                            Leo had always those keys were for the Crown Jewels. "No," said the
                                            Giant. "They're for my misery." Leo felt desperate for his
                                            misunderstood fiend, and a plan formed in his mind. The Giant
                                            watched it being born and sighed a cold sigh. Deep inside, in the
                                            prize where his heart should have been, the wasped seethed and
                                            buzzed.

                                            That very night, when the whole castle was sleeping, when the Royal
                                            Guards slumped against their sentry posts and dozed, when the owls
                                            hooted, little Prince Leo slipped from his bed, slid past a sleeping
                                            sentry, and pushed on the door of his parents' room. He tiptoed
                                            round the great bed with its velvet eiderdown, past his sleeping
                                            mother and sleeping father, to the hook where the keys were hung.
                                            They were so heavy. He heaved them up and they swung together,
                                            clanging like the Angelus bell. Leo clutched them tight, their black
                                            metal teeth squashing his toes, their hooped handles framing his
                                            face. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, he dragged the huge keys out of
                                            the room.

                                            "I've got the keys," he whispered, trembling at the little window.
                                            He let them ring against the bars. "Who goes there?" challenged a
                                            voice from the darkness. It was the one sentry still awake. "Hurry,
                                            hurry!" growled the Giant from the bowels of the dungeon. Leo
                                            struggled to push the keys through the bars. The teeth went in and
                                            the long shafts, but when it came to the ring he couldn't work out
                                            how to do it. "They're too big," he explained as he heard the
                                            Giant's snort of impatience. "I can't do it." Leo wanted to drop the
                                            keys and run for his life. "Push them," hissed the Giant. "Push
                                            them!" The Giant's voice was colder than the night, it was icy. Leo
                                            pushed. A great hand yanked on the keys. Leo saw its shape in the
                                            shadows. He felt a terrible force pulling downward.

                                            "Who goes there?" demanded the approaching voice. And then, with a
                                            sudden wrench, the keys disappeared, pulling the bars with then into
                                            the blackness. Leo heard a sigh issue from the Giant. A horrible
                                            aching sigh. Then the turning of locks, the crushing of
                                            doors. "Don't forget to let me have them back," he said, staring
                                            blankly into the dungeon. He shivered again.

                                            The sentry's torch was almost upon him. Suddenly the silence was
                                            rent with cries. A man screamed, and there was the sound of
                                            crunching, like a great walnut cracking. Then a broken, throaty
                                            roar. At the far corner, a door burst from its hinges, spilling
                                            light onto Leo's face. The Giant appeared. From his head, squeezing
                                            at the entrance, pulling away bricks and lintels, then his
                                            shoulders, squeezing, straining through. A giant baby being born
                                            into the night. Leo watched, horrified. The Giant glanced at Leo,
                                            but only for a second. As he emerged from the entrance, first one
                                            sentry, then a second confronted him, challenging him with a sword
                                            and spear. The Giant hoisted them up, one in each fist, and cracked
                                            their heads together before tossing them away. Then, with the sound
                                            of the alarm, the Heartless Giant turned and limped off, roaring his
                                            broken roar.

                                            All night Leo sat shivering on the battlements at the King and his
                                            men searched the grounds of the castle. His father's angry words
                                            haunted him. "Someone betrayed us. Only a madman would help a Giant
                                            with no heart. Someone betrayed us." Leo's face swam with tears. So
                                            letdown, he felt. So stupid. So guilty. Every scream was his fault.
                                            Every cracked skull. And when finally morning came, the boy in him,
                                            the innocent heart, the joy in him, they were gone-those things,
                                            like his friend-and they would never return.

                                            Next morning, Leo looked down and saw his Elder Brother march across
                                            the courtyard. He carried his sword and his axe and his bow and a
                                            large saddlebag, which he yanked up onto his shoulder. "Where are
                                            you going?" Leo called down. "Sh-h-h!" warned the brother. "I am
                                            going to get back the Giant." Leo felt awful. "Have you told
                                            anybody?" Elder Brother shook his head proudly. "No. Of course not.
                                            But I must go. Father is too old." And with this he offered up his
                                            hand in salute and turned, young warrior, off to find the
                                            Giant. "I'm sorry," wept his brother, but no one heard him.
                                            And Elder Brother did not come back.

                                            The spring came and went with sadness in it. Every day, more stories
                                            reached the castle of the Giant's cruel rampage. So it was that one
                                            glum morning, perched on the ledge of his window, Leo looked down
                                            and saw Middle Brother striding through the courtyard, golden helmet
                                            blazing, shield sparkling. "Where are you going?" Leo called
                                            out. "To find our brother and to kill the Giant." Leo was beside
                                            himself. "Please don't! It's madness. He has no heart." Middle
                                            Brother shook his proud head. "I must go. Our father's too old now."
                                            Leo could not stand it. "But he'll trick you!" he blurted
                                            out. "He'll trick you!" Middle Brother would not listen. He raised
                                            his hand in salute and set off to find the Giant. Terrible, Leo
                                            felt, as he watched him go, terrible.

                                            And Middle Brother did not come back either.

                                            The summer that year was short, the winter wild and endless. One
                                            day, Leo heard his mother's sobs from far off and came into her
                                            bedroom to find her kneeling in sorrow, head against the green
                                            velvet of the eiderdown. "Mother?" The Queen did not look up. "Your
                                            father says he intends to go off and fight the Giant. "I've lost two
                                            sons already. He's too old. He's too ill." She wept and wept. She
                                            wanted Leo to promise he would not follow his brothers. "Promise me,
                                            promise me you won't ever go." But he couldn't promise, how could
                                            he? Were it not for him, the Heartless Giant would still be chained
                                            and locked and safe in the dungeon.

                                            Next morning, at the crack of dawn, dressed in thick leather jerkin,
                                            Leo rode into the Royal Stables. He carried with him saddlebags
                                            stuffed with cheese and ham and biscuits and salted beef, but no
                                            weapon of any kind. He approached the stall where his father's
                                            stallion stood, tall, scarred, imperious, swung the saddle over the
                                            beast's back, and led him from the stable. Off they rode without
                                            looking back, their breath steaming out before them, the path
                                            flashing by, on and on and on.

                                            And so the young Prince Leo rode the land in search of his once
                                            friend the Heartless Giant. Three winters came and went, their
                                            bitter shiver, but still he rode on, determined. And many times were
                                            the saddlebags epmtied and filled; many nights slept achingly cold,
                                            huddled with his horse for warmth; many days spent without sighting
                                            a single soul. The boy changed slowly into man, took his own
                                            counsel, his jaw set in resolve, his heart firm, his plan fixed. Yet
                                            to find the Heartless Giant was no easy thing. His pillage had
                                            stripped the landscape bare. Only bleached bones, spat-out ruins,
                                            whispered nightmares remained. Where the Giant was no one knew. Long
                                            gone, the survivers told Leo as he bent from the horse's neck. Lone
                                            gone.

                                            Then one day he came to a place and knew he was finally on the
                                            Gaint's trail. The sweet stench of blood curdled the air. A village,
                                            abandoned, smoldered and smoked. Leo's horse reared and bucked and
                                            was fearful. Looking down to the earth for clues, they saw a bird
                                            flap, helpless, a torn wing shuddering pitifully. The Prince set
                                            down and took up the bird in his hands. "Craa! Craa! Help me!" it
                                            cried. "The Giant broke me and now I cannot fly, cannot eat. Craa!
                                            Help me."

                                            And Leo tended the bird, fixed its wing, fed it bread soaked in
                                            milk. And soon all was well with it. Leo threw it high into the air
                                            and watched it soar, its vivid re-ascent. "Thank you!" cried the
                                            bird from the heavens. If you need me, I shan't forget." And with
                                            that a "Craa! Craa!" it flew off. And they followed.

                                            Not lone after, Leo stopped at a brook, horse and rider hungry and
                                            thirsty, sore and weary. As they drank, they heard a flapping, heard
                                            a thrashing, heard a slapping, and, looking round, Leo saw a salmon,
                                            twisting, franitic, beached in the crook of a small crevasse. "Help
                                            me!" cried the choking fish. "Help me back into the water! I'm stuck
                                            here, I'm stranded, I'm beached up and landed! Help me!"

                                            Now Leo was famished, and he loved salmon over the taste of any
                                            fish. But he'd suffered sufficient, this fellow, thought the Prince.
                                            He pick up the flailing fish and swung it gently into the stream,
                                            back to where the salmon is King. Off it flashed through the reeds
                                            and green ripples, before leaping up in the middle of the water,
                                            slapping the surface with its message. "Thank you!" it cried. "If
                                            you need me, I shan't forget." Then it plunged back into the brook,
                                            and they followed its zig and its zag down the stream, for that way
                                            lay the Giant.

                                            Now neither Leo nor his horse had eaten in days. They were faint
                                            with hunger. Their progress slowed to a weary jog and stumble, until
                                            at last the old stallion sank slowly to his knees and gave up the
                                            ghost. Enough, he sighed, rolled over, and died. Leo lay behind his
                                            faithful servant and shed tears enough to break a heart, half from
                                            love, half from despair. Then he slipped into sleep. He dreamed he
                                            was in his mother's bed, warm and cherished. So warm, his mother
                                            mursing him, licking up his wet cheeks, hugging him. So vivid. He
                                            woke hugging himself, only to find a dead horse beside him and not
                                            his mother but a great Wolf coiled around his body, terrible teeth
                                            glistening, tongue hanging out with hunger.

                                            And, seeing his eyes flicker, the Wolf howled a terrible howl, fixed
                                            on Leo's bare, unguarded throat. "Help!" howled the Wolf. "I've not
                                            eaten since the winter came. Help me and I'll not forget you." Leo
                                            had no food, save his own flesh. He took up his courage and spoke to
                                            the Wolf, whose sour breath plaited with his own, so near they were
                                            to the other's jaw. "How can I?" he replied. "I have no food
                                            myself." The Wolf nudged against the dead horse. "Then let me eat
                                            your horse," he panted, his tongue a vicious red swipe across his
                                            teeth. "I'll eat it and be strong again. Trust me. I'll help you."
                                            The Prince could not watch as the starving animal leapt upon the
                                            flesh of the stallion. In no time, he eaten every scrap of flesh,
                                            chewed the bones, spat them out. Leo allowed himself to single
                                            glance from a distance. He caught the Wolf's red eyes contemplating
                                            him, the tongue sweeping the teeth, the body crouched over a mess of
                                            rib and hunk.

                                            "Master. Come here," said the Wolf. Leo was resigned. "Am I next to
                                            go?" he asked simply. The Wolf nodded. "Oh yes, us both must go," he
                                            replied. "For you seek the Giant, I know. And now, strong again,
                                            I'll help you. On my back, sir, and let's leave this place."
                                            Off they went a gray dash, a day and a night and a morning, until
                                            they came at last to a strange garden full of statues. Stone men.
                                            Stone women. Stone soldiers. Leo slipped from Grayleg's back and
                                            examined the statues. So lifelike were they, he felt a warmer sun
                                            might thaw them into being. He passed the bend, supplicant figure of
                                            an old woman, ivy in her stone tresses, then came to a statue of a
                                            brave young warrior, sword drawn, shield raised. Leo walked round to
                                            face it. "It's my brother!" he gasped. "This is a statue of my
                                            brother!" Graylegs the Wolf shook his head. "No, my lord, no statue.
                                            This is the Giant's work. There is his house," he continued, nodding
                                            toward a clearing. "All who approach he turns to stone."

                                            A little way down, the Prince came across another figure, frozen in
                                            the act of straining at the longbow, arrow poised at the ear. It was
                                            the Elder Brother. "You too!" cried Leo in despair. "You too."
                                            At the end of the clearing was the place where the Giant lived, a
                                            strange building made by tearing up the whole village and squashing
                                            it into a single house. Inside, the Heartless Giant was asleep.
                                            A "Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," over and over. He heaved his huge frame
                                            to the patchwork of windows and looked out. Standing there,
                                            fearless, without weapon, beathing his child's drum, was the young
                                            Prince Leo.

                                            The Giant took Leo in as his servant. The Prince explained how it
                                            was discovered he had helped the Giant escape. The Giant laughed at
                                            this. Had he seen his brothers, stone men in the garden? Leo said he
                                            had. Any who crossed him got the same treatment, so Leo had better
                                            be on his mettle. The Giant picked up the drum between his fingers
                                            and tapped out the march rhythm, memories flooding back. "That
                                            terrible cage," he sighed. "I had to fool you to get the keys.
                                            Otherwise I'd still be there, rotting. I still limp, you know." Then
                                            he squeezed Leo affectionately in his palm. "so, my little Leo, back
                                            again. Hah! Yes, stay if you like. No tricks, though, to traps. Else
                                            you'll end up like your brothers."

                                            "No tricks, no traps," agreed the boy and went inside.
                                            So Leo became the servant of the Giant. For weeks he cleaned, for
                                            weeks he scoured, until spick where speck was and span where
                                            squalor. Each evening, the Giant returned from his Wild outings to
                                            find the fire lit, the hearth swept, his breeches pressed. He liked
                                            this. Very nice. "Very nice," he'd say as he slurped and slopped his
                                            stew. "I should have had a servant before. I like it." He
                                            burped. "It befits a Giant." Leo bowed and cleared the plates away.
                                            He was always silent, always polite, always cleaning, always
                                            watching.

                                            Then the Giant croaked his cracked laugh. "And don't I treat you
                                            bad, do I? For a Heartless Giant." Leo kept walking away with the
                                            dishes. He spoke without looking back, his words light and idly
                                            curious. "What happened to your heart?"

                                            Black clouds furrowed the Giant's brow. "It's in safekeeping," he
                                            growled. Leo kept walking. The Giant continued, suddenly swelling,
                                            thumping the place where his heart should have been: "Can't feel
                                            without it, can I? Can't get hurt. Can't die from heartbreak if I
                                            haven't got one. I'm invincible!" he guffawed. Leo shrugged,
                                            impressed. "Clever," he said casually. "So where is it, then, your
                                            heart?" Wasps streamed from the Giant's mouth. "He who pries is
                                            prone to die," he warned. "Do you follow me?" "Yes." Leo walked into
                                            the kitchen. Then the Giant called after him. "But I'll tell you if
                                            you want to know. My heart's in that cupboard."

                                            Leo was passing a huge laundry press, its old wooden doors bleached
                                            and scarred with age. He paused for an instant, felt his own heart
                                            pounding. There! pounded his heart; his heart is there! The
                                            Heartless Giant, crouching at the table, missed nothing. He smirked,
                                            belched, and slumped into an after-dinner snore.

                                            Next morning, the Giant stalked off as early as ever. His prison
                                            years had made him fearful of walls. Out he went, all the daylight
                                            hours, roving, raging, rampaging. Leo stood at the window watching
                                            him limp and lumber away. Then he rushed to the linen press, heaved
                                            on the doors. Inside was a riot of this and that: a tusk, a trowel,
                                            a tent, a trap, a towel, a tin, a thousand trinkets. And then boxes.
                                            All manner of boxes. Leo opened them all, big or small. Two were
                                            heart-shaped. He tore at them. But there was no heart. Anything but
                                            hearts.

                                            "I'm back," announced the Giant later that evening, tossing a brace
                                            of dead pigs on the kitchen step. The Giant sniffed into the air. A
                                            suspicious sniff. "What's that smell?" he demanded, his nose tilted
                                            up, snorting like a bellows. Leo pointed at the gleaming doors of
                                            the old cupboard. "Polish," he said. The Giant's eyes widened in
                                            disbelief. "What you polishing the cupboard for?" he demanded.
                                            "It's the home of your heart," declared Leo. "It should be
                                            polished." The Giant roared with laughter. "Did you really think I
                                            kept my heart in a cupboard? Gah!" Leo feigned a look of
                                            disappointment, then went to the first pig and heaved it up on his
                                            shoulders to carry into the pantry. It was still warm. "If you want
                                            to know," the Giant called after him, "my heart is under the
                                            step." "Right," said Leo, treading on the stone step and continuing
                                            on his way. "That old step," chortled the Giant. "That's where my
                                            little heart beats. Ticktock."

                                            Next morning, same story: off stomped the Giant and out went the
                                            Prince, pick and shovel, hack and hew, digging out the step,
                                            spooning out the earth. Stone. Dust. Roots. But no heart! Ach! Poor
                                            Leo. He sank down onto the step, feet in the mounds of earth, and
                                            despaired. From where he sat he could see the grim silhouettes of
                                            his brothers and their fellow sufferers. Waiting. Waiting for him to
                                            make amends.

                                            "I'm back," called the Giant, throwing down a sack, splitting it,
                                            and revealing hares and hens and ducks and every type of small bird,
                                            all strangled. As he limped into the house, the Giant looked down to
                                            see a map of his journey recorded in huge red footprints. "What's
                                            that?" he demanded as Leo appeared. "Ah, you must have trodden on
                                            the step, sir," replied Leo politely. "I painted it." The Giant
                                            scowled. "What did you paint that old step for?" "It covers your
                                            heart, and should be special." Leo bowed. "What?" gaffawed the
                                            Giant. "You're a daffle-box! You'd believe anything!" "Yes,"
                                            admitted Leo. "I supposed I am, sir. I mean, I fetched the keys to
                                            the dungeon thinking I could trust you, didn't I? So...yes."
                                            The Giant didn't know how to take this. He wasn't sure whether he
                                            should feel flattered or insulted. So he sat on his chair and
                                            offered his smudged boots for Leo to remove.

                                            "The fact is, no one can find my heart," he declared proudly. "I'll
                                            tell you exactly where it is and you'll still not find it." Leo did
                                            not look up, but continued unwinding and bootlaces as the Giant
                                            unleashed a torrent of directions in a single breath. "Far away, so
                                            far you could not fathom it, so high you could not climb it, is a
                                            mountain, and in the mountain is a lake in the lake is an island and
                                            in the island is a church and in the church is a well and in the
                                            well is a duck and in the duck is an egg and in the egg...is my
                                            heart."

                                            The Giant poked Leo with a giant finger, bowling him over and over
                                            on the flagstones. "Not so easy, little thief, eh?" he
                                            declared. "Not such a diddle and a doddle as you thought, is it? No.
                                            Your father tricked me once. I shan't be tricked again."

                                            That night as the Giant slept, Leo lay on his cot staring at the
                                            ceiling. An egg in a duck in a well in a church in an island in a
                                            lake in a mountain. Impossible, he decided as he stole from the
                                            house and began the journey. Impossible, he decided as he passed his
                                            brothers. Impossible, he decided as he glanced at the moon and saw,
                                            in its pale silver, his friend Graylegs the Wolf, raising his head
                                            to the wind and howling long and loud before turning and bounding
                                            towards him. In a second, they were reunited, and Leo was explaining
                                            everything. He knew, he said, he knew where the Giant's heart was,
                                            he knew how to get there, but the journey was hard, treacherous,
                                            impossible.

                                            "Hold tight," said Graylegs, offering the Prince his back. "Hold
                                            fast." And very tight they young Prince held, and very fast, for a
                                            gray dash they went, headlong, a breathless blur of world flashing
                                            by. And they came to the mountain, clambering, scrambling. And up at
                                            last. And then the lake. Wide. Deep. "Hold tight!" the Wolf cried
                                            again. "Hold close." And plunge, splash into the lake, heads arched
                                            up above the water, cold, soaking, chilled, choking. And out at
                                            last. On the island.

                                            In its center loomed the church, its spire so high it threatened to
                                            tear Heaven. Leo twisted the iron handles on the massive doors. The
                                            doors were locked. Nothing would budge them. Leo hammered in
                                            frustration on the thick oak panels. Above them the bells rang for
                                            the Angelus. They looked up at the swing and toll.

                                            "Look!" cried Graylegs and, squinting into the glare, Leo saw,
                                            dangling impossibly high from the bell tower, the key. Then,
                                            mingling with the cling-clang-clang-clong-clang of the bells, came a
                                            new note. "Craa!" it sounded. "Craa! Craa!" And from nowhere the
                                            bird whose wing Leo had mended swooped past them in salute before
                                            swinging up the tower with a single beat and pulling the key off its
                                            thread. Seconds later, the doors swung open. Sure enough, in one
                                            corner they came upon a well, and in the well swam a duck.

                                            Leo clambered up onto the lip of the well and began to scatter bread
                                            to tempt the duck toward his open hands. He coaxed the duck with
                                            each crumb, nearer and nearer until, with a sudden lunge, he had the
                                            bird firmly in his grasp. But then, just as he pulled the duck out
                                            of the water, the egg dropped from its body back into the water,
                                            sinking into the blackness. Leo was dumbfounded. Then, miraculously,
                                            the water's skin broke and a beautful fish leapt, twisted, turned,
                                            and plunged, then reappeared, slapping the water with its tail. The
                                            salmon! Back it dived, vanished, surfaced to flip the egg high into
                                            the air. "Catch it!" howled Graylegs at Leo. And he did. He caught
                                            the Giant's heart. Held it in his hands.

                                            For a second time, the Heartless Giant woke to the sound of a drum
                                            playing. "Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat. Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat." "Where've
                                            you been?" he roared in his cracked voice as he charged from the
                                            house toward Leo. "I've a good mind to set you there with your
                                            brothers." Leo ignored him, continued the little drum roll on his
                                            drum. "Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat. Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat." The Giant
                                            boiled. "Stop that!" he ordered. Leo did not stop, but spoke as he
                                            continued to beat on his drum. "Year ago, sir, you broke my heart,"
                                            he said in a quiet voice. "Now I shall break yours." And with that
                                            he laid down his drum and held aloft the egg that held the Giant's
                                            heart. The Giant was terrified, paralyzed.

                                            "No!" he whispered. "Don't...Be careful...don't break that...please,
                                            I beg you." Leo stood before him, egg pressed threateningly between
                                            his palms. "I will break it," he promised. "I'll squeeze and squeeze
                                            it to bits unless you release my brothers and all these poor people."
                                            "Yes! Anything! Don't drop, careful, please, please be careful!" The
                                            Giant seemed to shrink with each second, his voice disintegrating to
                                            a sorry broken cord. "I'll do anything you ask," he promised,
                                            staggering toward the stone figures. "Look! I'm doing it!" And with
                                            that he limped from statue to statue, touching each one, mumbling
                                            the while. As he passed, each pose melted, softened, shuddered to
                                            like. Leo's brothers ran to him, praising Heaven, embracing
                                            him. "Brother! You've rescued us!" they cried.

                                            The Giant limped toward the three brothers. "I've done as you bid,"
                                            he whispered. "Can I have my heart?" Leo nodded. "You can, sir. As I
                                            promised. For I know that with your heart in place you could not be
                                            as you are now." The Giant sighed. "Thank you," he said, holding out
                                            his hand for the return of his heart.

                                            Leo's brothers lunged at him, trapping his arms, snatching the agg
                                            from his grasp. Leo yelled. The Giant groaned. "Now, villain!" the
                                            brothers cried. "For five long years we've stood here helpless and
                                            watched your cruelty." Leo protested, struggled. The Giant hung he
                                            head, closed his eyes. "Please," he asked sadly. "Don't. Please." By
                                            now, the crowds of liberated souls has surrounded the group,
                                            demanding vengeance. "Kill him!" they chanted. "Kill him! Kill him!
                                            Kill him!"

                                            "Don't!" Leo pleaded. "I promised! Don't!" But no one heard him. His
                                            elder brother advanced on the Giant and squeezed on the egg. The
                                            Giant staggered back, clutching the place where his heart should
                                            have been, gasping for air, short agonized gasps. The crowd roared
                                            it approval. Leo wept and wept, screaming to be heard over the
                                            cheering. His brother squeezed again. As he sank slowly to his
                                            knees, the Giant caught Leo in a terrible gaze. "You promised," he
                                            said. "You promised."

                                            Then the egg burst in the elder Pince's hands, yolk and white
                                            slopping him. The crowd cheered. The Giant slumped forward and died.
                                            Wasps swarmed angrily from his mouth. Where the Giant fell a hill
                                            grew. And in time, when much was forgotten, when many Kings had come
                                            and gone, the place was still known as the Hill of the Heartless
                                            Giant.

                                            Prince Leo lived to be a great age, became King, had forty-two
                                            grandchildren, and told them all that tale. But in his story the
                                            Giant got back his heart and made amends for all his wrongs.
                                            Because, you see, despite all that took place, a little boy once met
                                            a Giant and they became friends."
                                          • Carol
                                            re:The Heartless Giant Funny, how the solution to one of the most complex riddles which Humanity will be forced to resolve, has already been successfully
                                            Message 21 of 25 , Feb 17, 2007

                                              re:The Heartless Giant

                                               Funny, how the solution to one of the most complex riddles which Humanity will be forced to resolve, has already been successfully tackled.  Who was the soul that composed that piece, and  when?  I have already read a very abbreviated version of the ‘tale’,  but this one in all it’s details has fallen at a perfect moment…

                                               

                                              I enjoy taking note of ‘action on this front’,  and though the following occurred  some months ago, details of  which are not readily publicised,  I thought to dig it up and share it, at this moment.

                                               

                                              PRESIDENT SEES LIGHT SURROUNDING HIM    

                                              http://www.iran-press-service.com/ips/articles-2005/november-2005/ahmadi_revelations_291105.shtml

                                               

                                              ----- Original Message -----
                                              Sent: Friday, February 16, 2007 4:53 PM
                                              Subject: [anthroposophy] Re: Recovering history and navigating the ZeitGeist

                                              Take out your Main Lesson books Spiritual Science students.
                                              Today we are offering the Giant's Heart a discourse on current
                                              events.

                                              Bradford brought;

                                              "That is why when we look at the disturbed heart condition of Dick
                                              Cheney, we understand the disturbed condition of his heart in
                                              relation to the great heart of the world."

                                              Bradford adds;

                                              Now this is where true thinkers rise and poor thinkers fall by the
                                              way side. Poor thinkers with limp souls cannot and refuse to make
                                              the connection that we are about to make. The connection that we are
                                              about to make is to the Giants Heart. Presently being vice president
                                              of the greatest super power on the planet, the United States, makes
                                              Dick Cheney a heartless Giant. Now what kind of giant is Dick
                                              Cheney? What is wrong and where is his heart if it has such trouble
                                              finding the rhythm and keeping beat with the heart of the world?
                                              Thesee are all simple questions with surprisingly simple answers
                                              that with Jungian insights and vague imaginations we certainly will
                                              not find many people left in the U.S. who can digest rich insights
                                              and see imaginations with the intimate clarity that students of
                                              Spiritual Science may.

                                              Of course we can and we have in the past brought into the argument
                                              aspects of the U.S. involvement in America's fall into fascism and
                                              how Dick Cheney truly plays a very significant part in where we
                                              would raise the question of Ahrimanic ailments of the soul and
                                              malfunctioning disconnection of a human heart to the heart of the
                                              world. These Sorathian Spiritual Science and Ahrimanic patterns we
                                              have traced with precise historical relationships that have picked
                                              up the patterns of the dawn of 1914 and the surge of military
                                              ahrimanic intent that is currently riding on the same historical
                                              rhythm that led Cheney to sign and bring forward the pre-emptive
                                              Imperialism of the PNAC or Project for a New Ahrimanic Century at
                                              the crack of light of the dark arising of 1997/8.

                                              For Cheney and big Oil middle eastern chaos must continue to erupt.
                                              The world's supply of oil must be owned and kept by the United
                                              States. This is U.S. policy. Pre-emptive attacks on innocent
                                              countries murdering tens of thousands with escalation of torture and
                                              fair trials gone the way of Nazi Germany...along with the U.S.,
                                              Britain and Israel, a nasty triad that is sinking to Sorathian
                                              levels of dark lodge intents, all this must continue for Amerika to
                                              dominate under Cheney's heartlessness.

                                              What type of imagination hovers around the leader, the actual black
                                              Lodge mouthpiece of someone who cannot adjust his heart to the
                                              actual heart of the world? We will present the diagnosis in a fairy
                                              tale. That way those with true understanding of diagnostic pictures
                                              and imaginations will have something extremely vital to point to
                                              when they point to the reality behind the fall of the United States.
                                              And we grant that all of us know that the real idea of terrorism is
                                              not anywhere close to the representative reality of the heart of the
                                              world, but if it were black ops and terrorism, it would match up
                                              with what Dick Cheney wants to project all around him and America
                                              with torture chambers over the globe... a Giant Darkness.

                                              Now the second wave of Michael Intelligence might very well
                                              understand the problems that exist in the subtext of history vs that
                                              of recovering Grail history, the Etheric Christ and the human heart,
                                              or the aspect of Justice and the aspect of understanding that as a
                                              human being, if such a bad heart serves a dark master, it is better
                                              to get a new heart and a new incarnation rather than continue on
                                              with such an icy corrupt and cold heart. Dick Cheney has had his
                                              heart removed.

                                              The Heartless Giant

                                              [Note when the word Giant appears INSERT, Dick Cheney}

                                              On the whole, there's absolutely no need to be frightened by Giants.
                                              Giants are gentle souls, perfectly harmless, and very affectionate.
                                              Unless, of course, the Giant has no heart in his body.

                                              Think of all kinds of unpleasant things and add Giant to them and
                                              that's what you get when a Giant has no heart. Such a Giant once
                                              terrorized a county in the far north of the world, near the very
                                              top. He'd hidden his heart. It gave him too much trouble, all those
                                              Giant Feelings, too much pain. In its place was a wasps' nest. About
                                              to swarm. Put your ear to his chest and you'd hear an angry buzzing
                                              noise.

                                              This Heartless Giant could shake a man and shuffle his wits. He
                                              could crack a skull with his fist like a walnut. And frequently did.
                                              Until, at last, the old King of that country, as good as the Giant
                                              was bad, trapped him in a giant trap and locked him in a cell. There
                                              the Giant crouched, an inch of the outside world to look at, the
                                              damp dripping from the walls, the dull rattle of his chains, his low
                                              angry growl a ceaseless rumble through the King's castle.
                                              Years passed in this was until the Giant's voice had grated away to
                                              the hoarsest whisper and folk had quite forgotten about Giants with
                                              no hearts. And he'd be there still, in his foul pit, were it not for
                                              a little boy whose name was Leo.

                                              Leo was the King's youngest son. He had two brothers who were
                                              bigger. Prince Leo could leave not stone unturned, no passage
                                              unexplored, no drawer unrammaged, so incurably curious was he. One
                                              morning, scouting the far and deep of the castle, he came across a
                                              tiny, barred window set in the bottom of a huge gray wall. Looking
                                              through it, Leo saw nothing buy dank dark pitch black. But as he
                                              turned away he imagined he heard a stir, and then came a growl, a
                                              low buzz of a growl. It was a frightening sound.

                                              His brothers told a Giant with no heart lived in this prison with
                                              the tiny window. He didn't believe them. They were older, his
                                              brothers, and forever teasing him. But the next day he went back,
                                              carrying his drum. "Rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat, " he played outside the
                                              window. From inside the dark dank pitch black he heard a rattle,
                                              like the rattle of a chain. He crept to the window and squinted into
                                              the shadows. Two eyes blinked back at him. Leo jumped. A wasp buzzed
                                              angrily through the bars. Leo ran off. It was true, there was a
                                              Giant!

                                              All night Leo thougth about the Giant, his eyes, the low rumbling
                                              growl. Next morning, he was back, "rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat, " on his
                                              little drum. The Giant was waiting for him. When Leo tiptoed to the
                                              window, he was there, whispering hello. The Giant told Leo that long
                                              ago he had done some bad things and that the King had locked him up.
                                              Leo couldn't imagine what these bad things were. He worried about
                                              the poor Giant, stuck down there in terrible chains. He lit a candle
                                              and held it to the hole.

                                              The Giant was so big he had to crouch with his chin on this knees
                                              and his elbos bent. He looked to Leo like a huge sad baby, his
                                              yellow eyes screwed up against the candle's sudden glare. Leo said
                                              he would speak to his father, it wasn't fair the Giant had been
                                              locked up for so long; he must have been forgotten. "No," croaked
                                              the Giant, all anxious. "If you say anything, they'll make me stay
                                              down here forever and I shall surely perish." The eyes blinked
                                              nearer. "Would you like to be my friend?"

                                              Leo was elated. "Oh yes, yes please!" "Good. Good," said the Giant.
                                              Good, thought Leo; I have a secret friend. Good, thought the Giant
                                              who had shed his heart at last. And he sighed a chill sigh and
                                              planned chill plans, while the young prince skipped back along the
                                              path, swinging the iron gate behind him, caressing his secret,
                                              nurturing it, back to his room.

                                              And so it began, the friendship between the huge, crouching Giant
                                              and the little Prince. Every day, the boy would appear, rat-tat-
                                              tatting on his drum. Every day he'd tell a little more, hear a
                                              little more, until he felt he knew no one better, that no one knew
                                              him better. Oh, he wanted to tell the whole world about his friend.
                                              But the Giant said, "Out secret," and Leo agreed, although he would
                                              have loved to tell his mother or his two brothers or somebody. But
                                              he couldn't so he shouldn't, so he wouldn't so he didn't. The Giant,
                                              meanwhile crouched in his blackness and schemed. And so it was that
                                              one day he told Leo he'd heard a Guard saying that the King slept
                                              with the keys to the Giant's chains hanging on a ring by his bed.
                                              Leo had always those keys were for the Crown Jewels. "No," said the
                                              Giant. "They're for my misery." Leo felt desperate for his
                                              misunderstood fiend, and a plan formed in his mind. The Giant
                                              watched it being born and sighed a cold sigh. Deep inside, in the
                                              prize where his heart should have been, the wasped seethed and
                                              buzzed.

                                              That very night, when the whole castle was sleeping, when the Royal
                                              Guards slumped against their sentry posts and dozed, when the owls
                                              hooted, little Prince Leo slipped from his bed, slid past a sleeping
                                              sentry, and pushed on the door of his parents' room. He tiptoed
                                              round the great bed with its velvet eiderdown, past his sleeping
                                              mother and sleeping father, to the hook where the keys were hung.
                                              They were so heavy. He heaved them up and they swung together,
                                              clanging like the Angelus bell. Leo clutched them tight, their black
                                              metal teeth squashing his toes, their hooped handles framing his
                                              face. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, he dragged the huge keys out of
                                              the room.

                                              "I've got the keys," he whispered, trembling at the little window.
                                              He let them ring against the bars. "Who goes there?" challenged a
                                              voice from the darkness. It was the one sentry still awake. "Hurry,
                                              hurry!" growled the Giant from the bowels of the dungeon. Leo
                                              struggled to push the keys through the bars. The teeth went in and
                                              the long shafts, but when it came to the ring he couldn't work out
                                              how to do it. "They're too big," he explained as he heard the
                                              Giant's snort of impatience. "I can't do it." Leo wanted to drop the
                                              keys and run for his life. "Push them," hissed the Giant. "Push
                                              them!" The Giant's voice was colder than the night, it was icy. Leo
                                              pushed. A great hand yanked on the keys. Leo saw its shape in the
                                              shadows. He felt a terrible force pulling downward.

                                              "Who goes there?" demanded the approaching voice. And then, with a
                                              sudden wrench, the keys disappeared, pulling the bars with then into
                                              the blackness. Leo heard a sigh issue from the Giant. A horrible
                                              aching sigh. Then the turning of locks, the crushing of
                                              doors. "Don't forget to let me have them back," he said, staring
                                              blankly into the dungeon. He shivered again.

                                              The sentry's torch was almost upon him. Suddenly the silence was
                                              rent with cries. A man screamed, and there was the sound of
                                              crunching, like a great walnut cracking. Then a broken, throaty
                                              roar. At the far corner, a door burst from its hinges, spilling
                                              light onto Leo's face. The Giant appeared. From his head, squeezing
                                              at the entrance, pulling away bricks and lintels, then his
                                              shoulders, squeezing, straining through. A giant baby being born
                                              into the night. Leo watched, horrified. The Giant glanced at Leo,
                                              but only for a second. As he emerged from the entrance, first one
                                              sentry, then a second confronted him, challenging him with a sword
                                              and spear. The Giant hoisted them up, one in each fist, and cracked
                                              their heads together before tossing them away. Then, with the sound
                                              of the alarm, the Heartless Giant turned and limped off, roaring his
                                              broken roar.

                                              All night Leo sat shivering on the battlements at the King and his
                                              men searched the grounds of the castle. His father's angry words
                                              haunted him. "Someone betrayed us. Only a madman would help a Giant
                                              with no heart. Someone betrayed us." Leo's face swam with tears. So
                                              letdown, he felt. So stupid. So guilty. Every scream was his fault.
                                              Every cracked skull. And when finally morning came, the boy in him,
                                              the innocent heart, the joy in him, they were gone-those things,
                                              like his friend-and they would never return.

                                              Next morning, Leo looked down and saw his Elder Brother march across
                                              the courtyard. He carried his sword and his axe and his bow and a
                                              large saddlebag, which he yanked up onto his shoulder. "Where are
                                              you going?" Leo called down. "Sh-h-h!" warned the brother. "I am
                                              going to get back the Giant." Leo felt awful. "Have you told
                                              anybody?" Elder Brother shook his head proudly. "No. Of course not.
                                              But I must go. Father is too old." And with this he offered up his
                                              hand in salute and turned, young warrior, off to find the
                                              Giant. "I'm sorry," wept his brother, but no one heard him.
                                              And Elder Brother did not come back.

                                              The spring came and went with sadness in it. Every day, more stories
                                              reached the castle of the Giant's cruel rampage. So it was that one
                                              glum morning, perched on the ledge of his window, Leo looked down
                                              and saw Middle Brother striding through the courtyard, golden helmet
                                              blazing, shield sparkling. "Where are you going?" Leo called
                                              out. "To find our brother and to kill the Giant." Leo was beside
                                              himself. "Please don't! It's madness. He has no heart." Middle
                                              Brother shook his proud head. "I must go. Our father's too old now."
                                              Leo could not stand it. "But he'll trick you!" he blurted
                                              out. "He'll trick you!" Middle Brother would not listen. He raised
                                              his hand in salute and set off to find the Giant. Terrible, Leo
                                              felt, as he watched him go, terrible.

                                              And Middle Brother did not come back either.

                                              The summer that year was short, the winter wild and endless. One
                                              day, Leo heard his mother's sobs from far off and came into her
                                              bedroom to find her kneeling in sorrow, head against the green
                                              velvet of the eiderdown. "Mother?" The Queen did not look up. "Your
                                              father says he intends to go off and fight the Giant. "I've lost two
                                              sons already. He's too old. He's too ill." She wept and wept. She
                                              wanted Leo to promise he would not follow his brothers. "Promise me,
                                              promise me you won't ever go." But he couldn't promise, how could
                                              he? Were it not for him, the Heartless Giant would still be chained
                                              and locked and safe in the dungeon.

                                              Next morning, at the crack of dawn, dressed in thick leather jerkin,
                                              Leo rode into the Royal Stables. He carried with him saddlebags
                                              stuffed with cheese and ham and biscuits and salted beef, but no
                                              weapon of any kind. He approached the stall where his father's
                                              stallion stood, tall, scarred, imperious, swung the saddle over the
                                              beast's back, and led him from the stable. Off they rode without
                                              looking back, their breath steaming out before them, the path
                                              flashing by, on and on and on.

                                              And so the young Prince Leo rode the land in search of his once
                                              friend the Heartless Giant. Three winters came and went, their
                                              bitter shiver, but still he rode on, determined. And many times were
                                              the saddlebags epmtied and filled; many nights slept achingly cold,
                                              huddled with his horse for warmth; many days spent without sighting
                                              a single soul. The boy changed slowly into man, took his own
                                              counsel, his jaw set in resolve, his heart firm, his plan fixed. Yet
                                              to find the Heartless Giant was no easy thing. His pillage had
                                              stripped the landscape bare. Only bleached bones, spat-out ruins,
                                              whispered nightmares remained. Where the Giant was no one knew. Long
                                              gone, the survivers told Leo as he bent from the horse's neck. Lone
                                              gone.

                                              Then one day he came to a place and knew he was finally on the
                                              Gaint's trail. The sweet stench of blood curdled the air. A village,
                                              abandoned, smoldered and smoked. Leo's horse reared and bucked and
                                              was fearful. Looking down to the earth for clues, they saw a bird
                                              flap, helpless, a torn wing shuddering pitifully. The Prince set
                                              down and took up the bird in his hands. "Craa! Craa! Help me!" it
                                              cried. "The Giant broke me and now I cannot fly, cannot eat. Craa!
                                              Help me."

                                              And Leo tended the bird, fixed its wing, fed it bread soaked in
                                              milk. And soon all was well with it. Leo threw it high into the air
                                              and watched it soar, its vivid re-ascent. "Thank you!" cried the
                                              bird from the heavens. If you need me, I shan't forget." And with
                                              that a "Craa! Craa!" it flew off. And they followed.

                                              Not lone after, Leo stopped at a brook, horse and rider hungry and
                                              thirsty, sore and weary. As they drank, they heard a flapping, heard
                                              a thrashing, heard a slapping, and, looking round, Leo saw a salmon,
                                              twisting, franitic, beached in the crook of a small crevasse. "Help
                                              me!" cried the choking fish. "Help me back into the water! I'm stuck
                                              here, I'm stranded, I'm beached up and landed! Help me!"

                                              Now Leo was famished, and he loved salmon over the taste of any
                                              fish. But he'd suffered sufficient, this fellow, thought the Prince.
                                              He pick up the flailing fish and swung it gently into the stream,
                                              back to where the salmon is King. Off it flashed through the reeds
                                              and green ripples, before leaping up in the middle of the water,
                                              slapping the surface with its message. "Thank you!" it cried. "If
                                              you need me, I shan't forget." Then it plunged back into the brook,
                                              and they followed its zig and its zag down the stream, for that way
                                              lay the Giant.

                                              Now neither Leo nor his horse had eaten in days. They were faint
                                              with hunger. Their progress slowed to a weary jog and stumble, until
                                              at last the old stallion sank slowly to his knees and gave up the
                                              ghost. Enough, he sighed, rolled over, and died. Leo lay behind his
                                              faithful servant and shed tears enough to break a heart, half from
                                              love, half from despair. Then he slipped into sleep. He dreamed he
                                              was in his mother's bed, warm and cherished. So warm, his mother
                                              mursing him, licking up his wet cheeks, hugging him. So vivid. He
                                              woke hugging himself, only to find a dead horse beside him and not
                                              his mother but a great Wolf coiled around his body, terrible teeth
                                              glistening, tongue hanging out with hunger.

                                              And, seeing his eyes flicker, the Wolf howled a terrible howl, fixed
                                              on Leo's bare, unguarded throat. "Help!" howled the Wolf. "I've not
                                              eaten since the winter came. Help me and I'll not forget you." Leo
                                              had no food, save his own flesh. He took up his courage and spoke to
                                              the Wolf, whose sour breath plaited with his own, so near they were
                                              to the other's jaw. "How can I?" he replied. "I have no food
                                              myself." The Wolf nudged against the dead horse. "Then let me eat
                                              your horse," he panted, his tongue a vicious red swipe across his
                                              teeth. "I'll eat it and be strong again. Trust me. I'll help you."
                                              The Prince could not watch as the starving animal leapt upon the
                                              flesh of the stallion. In no time, he eaten every scrap of flesh,
                                              chewed the bones, spat them out. Leo allowed himself to single
                                              glance from a distance. He caught the Wolf's red eyes contemplating
                                              him, the tongue sweeping the teeth, the body crouched over a mess of
                                              rib and hunk.

                                              "Master. Come here," said the Wolf. Leo was resigned. "Am I next to
                                              go?" he asked simply. The Wolf nodded. "Oh yes, us both must go," he
                                              replied. "For you seek the Giant, I know. And now, strong again,
                                              I'll help you. On my back, sir, and let's leave this place."
                                              Off they went a gray dash, a day and a night and a morning, until
                                              they came at last to a strange garden full of statues. Stone men.
                                              Stone women. Stone soldiers. Leo slipped from Grayleg's back and
                                              examined the statues. So lifelike were they, he felt a warmer sun
                                              might thaw them into being. He passed the bend, supplicant figure of
                                              an old woman, ivy in her stone tresses, then came to a statue of a
                                              brave young warrior, sword drawn, shield raised. Leo walked round to
                                              face it. "It's my brother!" he gasped. "This is a statue of my
                                              brother!" Graylegs the Wolf shook his head. "No, my lord, no statue.
                                              This is the Giant's work. There is his house," he continued, nodding
                                              toward a clearing. "All who approach he turns to stone."

                                              A little way down, the Prince came across another figure, frozen in
                                              the act of straining at the longbow, arrow poised at the ear. It was
                                              the Elder Brother. "You too!" cried Leo in despair. "You too."
                                              At the end of the clearing was the place where the Giant lived, a
                                              strange building made by tearing up the whole village and squashing
                                              it into a single house. Inside, the Heartless Giant was asleep.
                                              A "Rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat, " over and over. He heaved his huge frame
                                              to the patchwork of windows and looked out. Standing there,
                                              fearless, without weapon, beathing his child's drum, was the young
                                              Prince Leo.

                                              The Giant took Leo in as his servant. The Prince explained how it
                                              was discovered he had helped the Giant escape. The Giant laughed at
                                              this. Had he seen his brothers, stone men in the garden? Leo said he
                                              had. Any who crossed him got the same treatment, so Leo had better
                                              be on his mettle. The Giant picked up the drum between his fingers
                                              and tapped out the march rhythm, memories flooding back. "That
                                              terrible cage," he sighed. "I had to fool you to get the keys.
                                              Otherwise I'd still be there, rotting. I still limp, you know." Then
                                              he squeezed Leo affectionately in his palm. "so, my little Leo, back
                                              again. Hah! Yes, stay if you like. No tricks, though, to traps. Else
                                              you'll end up like your brothers."

                                              "No tricks, no traps," agreed the boy and went inside.
                                              So Leo became the servant of the Giant. For weeks he cleaned, for
                                              weeks he scoured, until spick where speck was and span where
                                              squalor. Each evening, the Giant returned from his Wild outings to
                                              find the fire lit, the hearth swept, his breeches pressed. He liked
                                              this. Very nice. "Very nice," he'd say as he slurped and slopped his
                                              stew. "I should have had a servant before. I like it." He
                                              burped. "It befits a Giant." Leo bowed and cleared the plates away.
                                              He was always silent, always polite, always cleaning, always
                                              watching.

                                              Then the Giant croaked his cracked laugh. "And don't I treat you
                                              bad, do I? For a Heartless Giant." Leo kept walking away with the
                                              dishes. He spoke without looking back, his words light and idly
                                              curious. "What happened to your heart?"

                                              Black clouds furrowed the Giant's brow. "It's in safekeeping, " he
                                              growled. Leo kept walking. The Giant continued, suddenly swelling,
                                              thumping the place where his heart should have been: "Can't feel
                                              without it, can I? Can't get hurt. Can't die from heartbreak if I
                                              haven't got one. I'm invincible!" he guffawed. Leo shrugged,
                                              impressed. "Clever," he said casually. "So where is it, then, your
                                              heart?" Wasps streamed from the Giant's mouth. "He who pries is
                                              prone to die," he warned. "Do you follow me?" "Yes." Leo walked into
                                              the kitchen. Then the Giant called after him. "But I'll tell you if
                                              you want to know. My heart's in that cupboard."

                                              Leo was passing a huge laundry press, its old wooden doors bleached
                                              and scarred with age. He paused for an instant, felt his own heart
                                              pounding. There! pounded his heart; his heart is there! The
                                              Heartless Giant, crouching at the table, missed nothing. He smirked,
                                              belched, and slumped into an after-dinner snore.

                                              Next morning, the Giant stalked off as early as ever. His prison
                                              years had made him fearful of walls. Out he went, all the daylight
                                              hours, roving, raging, rampaging. Leo stood at the window watching
                                              him limp and lumber away. Then he rushed to the linen press, heaved
                                              on the doors. Inside was a riot of this and that: a tusk, a trowel,
                                              a tent, a trap, a towel, a tin, a thousand trinkets. And then boxes.
                                              All manner of boxes. Leo opened them all, big or small. Two were
                                              heart-shaped. He tore at them. But there was no heart. Anything but
                                              hearts.

                                              "I'm back," announced the Giant later that evening, tossing a brace
                                              of dead pigs on the kitchen step. The Giant sniffed into the air. A
                                              suspicious sniff. "What's that smell?" he demanded, his nose tilted
                                              up, snorting like a bellows. Leo pointed at the gleaming doors of
                                              the old cupboard. "Polish," he said. The Giant's eyes widened in
                                              disbelief. "What you polishing the cupboard for?" he demanded.
                                              "It's the home of your heart," declared Leo. "It should be
                                              polished." The Giant roared with laughter. "Did you really think I
                                              kept my heart in a cupboard? Gah!" Leo feigned a look of
                                              disappointment, then went to the first pig and heaved it up on his
                                              shoulders to carry into the pantry. It was still warm. "If you want
                                              to know," the Giant called after him, "my heart is under the
                                              step." "Right," said Leo, treading on the stone step and continuing
                                              on his way. "That old step," chortled the Giant. "That's where my
                                              little heart beats. Ticktock."

                                              Next morning, same story: off stomped the Giant and out went the
                                              Prince, pick and shovel, hack and hew, digging out the step,
                                              spooning out the earth. Stone. Dust. Roots. But no heart! Ach! Poor
                                              Leo. He sank down onto the step, feet in the mounds of earth, and
                                              despaired. From where he sat he could see the grim silhouettes of
                                              his brothers and their fellow sufferers. Waiting. Waiting for him to
                                              make amends.

                                              "I'm back," called the Giant, throwing down a sack, splitting it,
                                              and revealing hares and hens and ducks and every type of small bird,
                                              all strangled. As he limped into the house, the Giant looked down to
                                              see a map of his journey recorded in huge red footprints. "What's
                                              that?" he demanded as Leo appeared. "Ah, you must have trodden on
                                              the step, sir," replied Leo politely. "I painted it." The Giant
                                              scowled. "What did you paint that old step for?" "It covers your
                                              heart, and should be special." Leo bowed. "What?" gaffawed the
                                              Giant. "You're a daffle-box! You'd believe anything!" "Yes,"
                                              admitted Leo. "I supposed I am, sir. I mean, I fetched the keys to
                                              the dungeon thinking I could trust you, didn't I? So...yes."
                                              The Giant didn't know how to take this. He wasn't sure whether he
                                              should feel flattered or insulted. So he sat on his chair and
                                              offered his smudged boots for Leo to remove.

                                              "The fact is, no one can find my heart," he declared proudly. "I'll
                                              tell you exactly where it is and you'll still not find it." Leo did
                                              not look up, but continued unwinding and bootlaces as the Giant
                                              unleashed a torrent of directions in a single breath. "Far away, so
                                              far you could not fathom it, so high you could not climb it, is a
                                              mountain, and in the mountain is a lake in the lake is an island and
                                              in the island is a church and in the church is a well and in the
                                              well is a duck and in the duck is an egg and in the egg...is my
                                              heart."

                                              The Giant poked Leo with a giant finger, bowling him over and over
                                              on the flagstones. "Not so easy, little thief, eh?" he
                                              declared. "Not such a diddle and a doddle as you thought, is it? No.
                                              Your father tricked me once. I shan't be tricked again."

                                              That night as the Giant slept, Leo lay on his cot staring at the
                                              ceiling. An egg in a duck in a well in a church in an island in a
                                              lake in a mountain. Impossible, he decided as he stole from the
                                              house and began the journey. Impossible, he decided as he passed his
                                              brothers. Impossible, he decided as he glanced at the moon and saw,
                                              in its pale silver, his friend Graylegs the Wolf, raising his head
                                              to the wind and howling long and loud before turning and bounding
                                              towards him. In a second, they were reunited, and Leo was explaining
                                              everything. He knew, he said, he knew where the Giant's heart was,
                                              he knew how to get there, but the journey was hard, treacherous,
                                              impossible.

                                              "Hold tight," said Graylegs, offering the Prince his back. "Hold
                                              fast." And very tight they young Prince held, and very fast, for a
                                              gray dash they went, headlong, a breathless blur of world flashing
                                              by. And they came to the mountain, clambering, scrambling. And up at
                                              last. And then the lake. Wide. Deep. "Hold tight!" the Wolf cried
                                              again. "Hold close." And plunge, splash into the lake, heads arched
                                              up above the water, cold, soaking, chilled, choking. And out at
                                              last. On the island.

                                              In its center loomed the church, its spire so high it threatened to
                                              tear Heaven. Leo twisted the iron handles on the massive doors. The
                                              doors were locked. Nothing would budge them. Leo hammered in
                                              frustration on the thick oak panels. Above them the bells rang for
                                              the Angelus. They looked up at the swing and toll.

                                              "Look!" cried Graylegs and, squinting into the glare, Leo saw,
                                              dangling impossibly high from the bell tower, the key. Then,
                                              mingling with the cling-clang- clang-clong- clang of the bells, came a
                                              new note. "Craa!" it sounded. "Craa! Craa!" And from nowhere the
                                              bird whose wing Leo had mended swooped past them in salute before
                                              swinging up the tower with a single beat and pulling the key off its
                                              thread. Seconds later, the doors swung open. Sure enough, in one
                                              corner they came upon a well, and in the well swam a duck.

                                              Leo clambered up onto the lip of the well and began to scatter bread
                                              to tempt the duck toward his open hands. He coaxed the duck with
                                              each crumb, nearer and nearer until, with a sudden lunge, he had the
                                              bird firmly in his grasp. But then, just as he pulled the duck out
                                              of the water, the egg dropped from its body back into the water,
                                              sinking into the blackness. Leo was dumbfounded. Then, miraculously,
                                              the water's skin broke and a beautful fish leapt, twisted, turned,
                                              and plunged, then reappeared, slapping the water with its tail. The
                                              salmon! Back it dived, vanished, surfaced to flip the egg high into
                                              the air. "Catch it!" howled Graylegs at Leo. And he did. He caught
                                              the Giant's heart. Held it in his hands.

                                              For a second time, the Heartless Giant woke to the sound of a drum
                                              playing. "Rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat. Rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat. " "Where've
                                              you been?" he roared in his cracked voice as he charged from the
                                              house toward Leo. "I've a good mind to set you there with your
                                              brothers." Leo ignored him, continued the little drum roll on his
                                              drum. "Rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat. Rat-tat-rat- ta-ta-tat. " The Giant
                                              boiled. "Stop that!" he ordered. Leo did not stop, but spoke as he
                                              continued to beat on his drum. "Year ago, sir, you broke my heart,"
                                              he said in a quiet voice. "Now I shall break yours." And with that
                                              he laid down his drum and held aloft the egg that held the Giant's
                                              heart. The Giant was terrified, paralyzed.

                                              "No!" he whispered. "Don't...Be careful...don' t break that...please,
                                              I beg you." Leo stood before him, egg pressed threateningly between
                                              his palms. "I will break it," he promised. "I'll squeeze and squeeze
                                              it to bits unless you release my brothers and all these poor people."
                                              "Yes! Anything! Don't drop, careful, please, please be careful!" The
                                              Giant seemed to shrink with each second, his voice disintegrating to
                                              a sorry broken cord. "I'll do anything you ask," he promised,
                                              staggering toward the stone figures. "Look! I'm doing it!" And with
                                              that he limped from statue to statue, touching each one, mumbling
                                              the while. As he passed, each pose melted, softened, shuddered to
                                              like. Leo's brothers ran to him, praising Heaven, embracing
                                              him. "Brother! You've rescued us!" they cried.

                                              The Giant limped toward the three brothers. "I've done as you bid,"
                                              he whispered. "Can I have my heart?" Leo nodded. "You can, sir. As I
                                              promised. For I know that with your heart in place you could not be
                                              as you are now." The Giant sighed. "Thank you," he said, holding out
                                              his hand for the return of his heart.

                                              Leo's brothers lunged at him, trapping his arms, snatching the agg
                                              from his grasp. Leo yelled. The Giant groaned. "Now, villain!" the
                                              brothers cried. "For five long years we've stood here helpless and
                                              watched your cruelty." Leo protested, struggled. The Giant hung he
                                              head, closed his eyes. "Please," he asked sadly. "Don't. Please." By
                                              now, the crowds of liberated souls has surrounded the group,
                                              demanding vengeance. "Kill him!" they chanted. "Kill him! Kill him!
                                              Kill him!"

                                              "Don't!" Leo pleaded. "I promised! Don't!" But no one heard him. His
                                              elder brother advanced on the Giant and squeezed on the egg. The
                                              Giant staggered back, clutching the place where his heart should
                                              have been, gasping for air, short agonized gasps. The crowd roared
                                              it approval. Leo wept and wept, screaming to be heard over the
                                              cheering. His brother squeezed again. As he sank slowly to his
                                              knees, the Giant caught Leo in a terrible gaze. "You promised," he
                                              said. "You promised."

                                              Then the egg burst in the elder Pince's hands, yolk and white
                                              slopping him. The crowd cheered. The Giant slumped forward and died.
                                              Wasps swarmed angrily from his mouth. Where the Giant fell a hill
                                              grew. And in time, when much was forgotten, when many Kings had come
                                              and gone, the place was still known as the Hill of the Heartless
                                              Giant.

                                              Prince Leo lived to be a great age, became King, had forty-two
                                              grandchildren, and told them all that tale. But in his story the
                                              Giant got back his heart and made amends for all his wrongs.
                                              Because, you see, despite all that took place, a little boy once met
                                              a Giant and they became friends."

                                            • holderlin66
                                              Profile in Ahrimanic intrusion and Soul overshadowing. The Voice of the White House Washington, D.C., March 18, 2007: Early last week, I was having dinner
                                              Message 22 of 25 , Mar 20, 2007
                                                Profile in Ahrimanic intrusion and Soul overshadowing.

                                                The Voice of the White House

                                                "Washington, D.C., March 18, 2007: "Early last week, I was having
                                                dinner with an old friend of my wife's who works for the Justice
                                                Department as an analyst. During the course of the meal, he
                                                mentioned a lengthy report he has on his desk about Vice President
                                                Cheney. It was compiled by a Department individual, known to him and
                                                considered to be very accurate.

                                                It is a lengthy report on Cheney's psychological makeup, his
                                                physical problems and a clear rationale for his very possible death,
                                                probably in the near future.

                                                It is not a state secret that Cheney is in very bad health. He had
                                                suffered, to date, four major and three minor heart attacks, he has
                                                had quadruple bypass surgery, a pacemaker installed and two
                                                angioplasty surgical procedures (to clear badly plugged arteries.)
                                                The last available, but certainly not public, medical prognosis is
                                                that it would take very little for Cheney to have a final, and
                                                fatal, heart attack.

                                                The recent discovery that Cheney suffered a blood clot in his leg
                                                and has undergone both a medical intervention and is now receiving
                                                anticoagulant medicines in addition to a significant regimen of
                                                other medications aimed at controlling his very high blood pressure
                                                and equally high cholesterol levels. He has been told by his
                                                doctors to lose at least 30 pounds, to be very careful of his diet
                                                and to engage in physical exercise, designed to improve circulation,
                                                on a daily basis. His age, lack of exercise and weight problems
                                                coupled with his psychological makeup are inevitably going to kill
                                                him, sooner rather than later.

                                                Cheney's psychological makeup is a contributory factor to his
                                                ongoing and escalating circulation problems.

                                                He has an obsessive/compulsive personality that internalizes
                                                stressful episodes. Cheney has always been the powerful and driving
                                                force behind Bush's disastrous Mid East policies. Cheney is a
                                                fixated Cold War personality who hates and fears the Russians,
                                                believing that they are still Communists, bent on the destruction of
                                                the United States. Cheney is also determined to enrich himself via
                                                his stock options with Halliburton, the oil company. Due solely to
                                                his actions in giving Halliburton many highly lucrative, no-bid
                                                government contracts, Cheney has effectively boosted the value of
                                                Halliburton's stock and he now holds a significant number of stock
                                                options in that company, which he once ran, which, if liquidated,
                                                would make him very rich.

                                                He has instigated a number of CIA operations against the Russian
                                                Republic, designed to gain US control over former Soviet republics
                                                that are rich in oil or who possess territory over which immensely
                                                profitable oil and gas pipelines must pass in order for these
                                                resources to reach western markets.

                                                Cheney hates Russian President Putin because he sees Putin as a man
                                                who deliberately thwarted US plans to gain control over Russian oil
                                                and gas resources via the actions of the so-called Russian
                                                Oligarchs. The latter were all Jews and working with an Israeli-
                                                controlled bank in New York and with the cooperation of their co-
                                                religionists in the IMF and the World Bank, came very close to
                                                achieving this control.

                                                Putin is now seen by Cheney and his associates as the one force
                                                blocking a renewal of US business control over Russian natural
                                                resources and Cheney has made no attempt to conceal his fury and
                                                frustration over what he sees as a major business and political
                                                defeat.

                                                In addition to this problem, Cheney's failing plans to set up a
                                                permanent US military base in oil-rich Iraq to secure the area and,
                                                in addition, serve as a badly-needed bulwark for an Israel who
                                                hates, and is afraid of, many of her very hostile Arab neighbors has
                                                added immensely to what has been a stressful career.

                                                I knew Cheney during the Reagan years in power and even then he was
                                                a driven man, obsessive in his attitudes, completely intolerant of
                                                any opinions that ran counter to his os own and determined to be
                                                the man whose decisions were the only correct ones and therefore
                                                must be implemented. Our of the government, he longed to return to
                                                the corridors of power and when he was asked to chair a committee to
                                                find a suitable vice president for the Supreme Court-appointed Bush,
                                                he naturally chose himself.

                                                His aides have often spoken, sometimes in my presence, about
                                                Cheney's contempt for what he sees as a weak and spineless president
                                                but he realizes that he is incapable of becoming chief of state
                                                though he once said,,,"If someone nails George, then you'll see some
                                                royal ass-kicking!"

                                                Cheney's personal drive and his complete dominance over a weak
                                                president, coupled with the vicious and vindictive manipulations of
                                                Karl Rove, Bush's poison dwarf, have wreaked havoc on the American
                                                diplomatic, military, political and now, economic, structures but he
                                                will never give up and never leave his White House office except on
                                                a gurney.

                                                He has been further stressed by the departure and subsequent
                                                conviction of I. Lewis Libby, one of his closest associates and a
                                                good friend. Cheney in triumph was a study in arrogance and power
                                                but Cheney in growing defeat will only turn his rage and frustration
                                                inwards and, given his serious medical problems, is a certain
                                                candidate for an imminent state funeral.

                                                This may sound cruel on my part, but given the damage Dick Cheney
                                                has done, and is capable of doing, his passing would be a blessing
                                                for the people of the United States and, indeed, the world."

                                                The Heartless Giant ---- Can be read from earlier post

                                                [Note when the word Giant appears INSERT, Dick Cheney}

                                                On the whole, there's absolutely no need to be frightened by Giants.
                                                Giants are gentle souls, perfectly harmless, and very affectionate.
                                                Unless, of course, the Giant has no heart in his body.

                                                Think of all kinds of unpleasant things and add Giant to them and
                                                that's what you get when a Giant has no heart. Such a Giant once
                                                terrorized a county in the far north of the world, near the very
                                                top. He'd hidden his heart. It gave him too much trouble, all those
                                                Giant Feelings, too much pain. In its place was a wasps' nest. About
                                                to swarm. Put your ear to his chest and you'd hear an angry buzzing
                                                noise.

                                                This Heartless Giant could shake a man and shuffle his wits. He
                                                could crack a skull with his fist like a walnut. And frequently did.
                                                Until, at last, the old King of that country, as good as the Giant
                                                was bad, trapped him in a giant trap and locked him in a cell. There
                                                the Giant crouched, an inch of the outside world to look at, the
                                                damp dripping from the walls, the dull rattle of his chains, his low
                                                angry growl a ceaseless rumble through the King's castle.
                                                Years passed in this was until the Giant's voice had grated away to
                                                the hoarsest whisper and folk had quite forgotten about Giants with
                                                no hearts. And he'd be there still, in his foul pit, were it not for
                                                a little boy whose name was Leo.

                                                Leo was the King's youngest son. He had two brothers who were
                                                bigger. Prince Leo could leave not stone unturned, no passage
                                                unexplored, no drawer unrammaged, so incurably curious was he. One
                                                morning, scouting the far and deep of the castle, he came across a
                                                tiny, barred window set in the bottom of a huge gray wall. Looking
                                                through it, Leo saw nothing buy dank dark pitch black. But as he
                                                turned away he imagined he heard a stir, and then came a growl, a
                                                low buzz of a growl. It was a frightening sound.

                                                His brothers told a Giant with no heart lived in this prison with
                                                the tiny window. He didn't believe them. They were older, his
                                                brothers, and forever teasing him. But the next day he went back,
                                                carrying his drum. "Rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," he played outside the
                                                window. From inside the dark dank pitch black he heard a rattle,
                                                like the rattle of a chain. He crept to the window and squinted into
                                                the shadows. Two eyes blinked back at him. Leo jumped. A wasp buzzed
                                                angrily through the bars. Leo ran off. It was true, there was a
                                                Giant!

                                                All night Leo thougth about the Giant, his eyes, the low rumbling
                                                growl. Next morning, he was back, "rat-tat-rat-ta-ta-tat," on his
                                                little drum. The Giant was waiting for him. When Leo tiptoed to the
                                                window, he was there, whispering hello. The Giant told Leo that long
                                                ago he had done some bad things and that the King had locked him up.
                                                Leo couldn't imagine what these bad things were. He worried about
                                                the poor Giant, stuck down there in terrible chains. He lit a candle
                                                and held it to the hole.

                                                The Giant was so big he had to crouch with his chin on this knees
                                                and his elbos bent. He looked to Leo like a huge sad baby, his
                                                yellow eyes screwed up against the candle's sudden glare. Leo said
                                                he would speak to his father, it wasn't fair the Giant had been
                                                locked up for so long; he must have been forgotten. "No," croaked
                                                the Giant, all anxious. "If you say anything, they'll make me stay
                                                down here forever and I shall surely perish." The eyes blinked
                                                nearer. "Would you like to be my friend?"

                                                Leo was elated. "Oh yes, yes please!" "Good. Good," said the Giant.
                                                Good, thought Leo; I have a secret friend. Good, thought the Giant
                                                who had shed his heart at last. And he sighed a chill sigh and
                                                planned chill plans, while the young prince skipped back along the
                                                path, swinging the iron gate behind him, caressing his secret,
                                                nurturing it, back to his room.

                                                And so it began, the friendship between the huge, crouching Giant
                                                and the little Prince. Every day, the boy would appear, rat-tat-
                                                tatting on his drum. Every day he'd tell a little more, hear a
                                                little more, until he felt he knew no one better, that no one knew
                                                him better. Oh, he wanted to tell the whole world about his friend.
                                                But the Giant said, "Out secret," and Leo agreed, although he would
                                                have loved to tell his mother or his two brothers or somebody. But
                                                he couldn't so he shouldn't, so he wouldn't so he didn't. The Giant,
                                                meanwhile crouched in his blackness and schemed. And so it was that
                                                one day he told Leo he'd heard a Guard saying that the King slept
                                                with the keys to the Giant's chains hanging on a ring by his bed.
                                                Leo had always those keys were for the Crown Jewels. "No," said the
                                                Giant. "They're for my misery." Leo felt desperate for his
                                                misunderstood fiend, and a plan formed in his mind. The Giant
                                                watched it being born and sighed a cold sigh. Deep inside, in the
                                                prize where his heart should have been, the wasped seethed and
                                                buzzed.

                                                That very night, when the whole castle was sleeping, when the Royal
                                                Guards slumped against their sentry posts and dozed, when the owls
                                                hooted, little Prince Leo slipped from his bed, slid past a sleeping
                                                sentry, and pushed on the door of his parents' room. He tiptoed
                                                round the great bed with its velvet eiderdown, past his sleeping
                                                mother and sleeping father, to the hook where the keys were hung.
                                                They were so heavy. He heaved them up and they swung together,
                                                clanging like the Angelus bell. Leo clutched them tight, their black
                                                metal teeth squashing his toes, their hooped handles framing his
                                                face. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, he dragged the huge keys out of
                                                the room.

                                                "I've got the keys," he whispered, trembling at the little window.
                                                He let them ring against the bars. "Who goes there?" challenged a
                                                voice from the darkness. It was the one sentry still awake. "Hurry,
                                                hurry!" growled the Giant from the bowels of the dungeon. Leo
                                                struggled to push the keys through the bars. The teeth went in and
                                                the long shafts, but when it came to the ring he couldn't work out
                                                how to do it. "They're too big," he explained as he heard the
                                                Giant's snort of impatience. "I can't do it." Leo wanted to drop the
                                                keys and run for his life. "Push them," hissed the Giant. "Push
                                                them!" The Giant's voice was colder than the night, it was icy. Leo
                                                pushed. A great hand yanked on the keys. Leo saw its shape in the
                                                shadows. He felt a terrible force pulling downward...."
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