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Re: Recovering history and navigating the ZeitGeist

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  • 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 1 of 25 , Feb 2, 2007
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      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 2 of 25 , Feb 3, 2007
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        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 3 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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          --- 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 4 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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            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 5 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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              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 6 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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                "... 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 7 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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                  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 8 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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                    "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 9 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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                      "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 10 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
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                        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 11 of 25 , Feb 5, 2007
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                          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 12 of 25 , Feb 5, 2007
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                            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 13 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
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                              `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 14 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
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                                --- 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 15 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
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                                  --- 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 16 of 25 , Feb 14, 2007
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                                    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 17 of 25 , Feb 15, 2007
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                                      "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 18 of 25 , Feb 16, 2007
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                                        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 19 of 25 , Feb 17, 2007
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                                          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 20 of 25 , Mar 20 8:37 PM
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                                            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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