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Re: Recovering history and navigating the ZeitGeist

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  • 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 1 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
      It is interesting to examine Dec 14 and Kaspar against the release
      of the reports on Dec 14 for Diana. Chance? Accident? or are there
      significant dynamic occult star field dates that can be used to turn
      tides and darken opinions and catch black lodge victories and past
      actions that numb the minds via these past dynamic influences?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      The Assassination

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Terry
    • holderlin66
      Friends do you have any idea what happens when we trip over the details of King Ludwig of Bavaria and the mad Grail Ludwig II? Here we see into something that
      Message 2 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
        Friends do you have any idea what happens when we trip over the
        details of King Ludwig of Bavaria and the mad Grail Ludwig II? Here
        we see into something that Ludwig II was still connected to in the
        spiritual world that surrounded the whole potential of Europe and
        the birth and destiny of Kaspar Hauser. We can take a tour of
        Ludwig's Grail Castle and his absolute love of Wagner and I shall
        because we certainly can't trust U to help research these things can
        we?

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

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

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

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

        Bradford brought;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        "It's possible that the place where Kaspar Hauser was imprisoned was
        the Schloss Pilsach, a large house close to Nuremberg, where there
        was a secret dungeon, and a small white wooden horse like the ones
        Hauser played with was discovered during renovations. Admittedly,
        much evidence, the frequent attempts on Kaspar's life, the
        participation of Stanhope, and the Baden family's attempts to keep
        the story quiet, seem to indicate some truth to this prince story.
        Unfortunately when Hennenhofer died, his private papers were all
        destroyed, so that avenue, as with many in the story of Kaspar
        Hauser, is closed."
      • holderlin66
        ... time like space is differentiated and laden with various qualities; it is not, as was thought in the 17th century, a mere continuum, essentially the same
        Message 3 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
          "... time like space is differentiated and laden with various
          qualities; it is not, as was thought in the 17th century, a mere
          continuum, essentially the same at all periods."

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

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

          Bradford comments;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            From Introduction by Thomas H. Meyer

            Moltke, Steiner and the true German folk Spirit

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

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

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

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



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

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

            The fear of the truth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            The technical reasons

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

            Ominous signs

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

            `Here is another illustration of the opinion that was entertained of
            Wilhelm 11 by his own entourage. One day, when von Moltke was
            describing to me the feelings of deep suffering he experienced in
            going back through Belgium after the fall of Antwerp, I spoke to him
            for the first time of the plan of attack by way of Belgium. "How did
            it happen," I asked him, "that a Minister of War could bring himself
            to say at the Reichstag that there had never been a plan for invading
            Belgium?" "This Minister," Moltke replied, "did not know my plan,
            but the Chancellor was familiar with it." "And the Kaiser?" "Never on
            my life," said von Moltke. "He is too much given to talking and too
            indiscreet. He would have told the whole world about it!"'
          • holderlin66
            The German Empire was founded at a time when these needs were converging on mankind. Its administrators did not understand the need for setting the Empire s
            Message 5 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
              "The German Empire was founded at a time when these needs were
              converging on mankind. Its administrators did not understand the
              need for setting the Empire's mission accordingly. A view to these
              necessities would not only have given the Empire the correct inner
              structure; it would also have lent justification to its foreign
              policy. The German people could have lived together with the non-
              German peoples through such a policy.

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

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

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

              Rudolf Steiner
            • carol
              Knowing oneself to be at one with the willing of the spiritual world gives one s soul the power of certainty in the course of one s life, however
              Message 6 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                "Knowing oneself to be at one with the willing of the spiritual world
                gives one's soul the power of certainty in the course of one's life,
                however disconcertingly the events of outer life may be raging around
                the vessel of one's life." RS in a personal letter to von Moltke


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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                The Spirit of the German people is with this light and whatever this
                Spirit places within the gleam of this light will eventually find the
                path. This spirit remains the Spirit with his torch raised, and
                those who were around him continue to be around him and whoever is
                protected by him is well protected These are the spiritual facts of
                which we have often spoken; and what I have been allowed to know
                today serves to confirm my seein of these facts.
              • holderlin66
                For all those have so easily got lost in what is the point of reviewing and recovering history, here is the point. The point is that the precise star rhythm
                Message 7 of 25 , Feb 4, 2007
                  For all those have so easily got lost in what is the point of
                  reviewing and recovering history, here is the point. The point is
                  that the precise star rhythm pattern that brought about the
                  crescendo of events that shattered the 20th century appeared and
                  restarted their attack on the Grail history and Grail Sciences of
                  the 20th century by the year 1997 and are still crushingly striding
                  forward where we stand today in the current 2007. The 21st century
                  has been hijacked so far against the impulses of Mankind!

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

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

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

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

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

                  Steiner brought;

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

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

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

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

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

                  "The scary thing about this 83-year precise "Jupiter Return," where
                  generalized historical events may be repeating themselves, is that
                  we are fast approaching 1997. In that year, we will not only have a
                  repeat of the Jupiter-Uranus conjunction in early Aquarius from
                  March 3-4, 1914 (the date in 1997 for this Jupiter-Uranus union will
                  be February 15-16), but Jupiter--throughout 1997--will be recrossing
                  his steps (to the degree and to the day) from 1914. It was during
                  1914 that World War I began--particularly with the assassination of
                  the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary on June 28, 1914 (by
                  the way, I am writing this story on June 28, 1995) and the "Guns of
                  August," the nightmarish launching of war in Europe in early August
                  1914. In June 1997, Jupiter at 22 Aquarius will be stationing
                  retrograde right where he stationed in June 1914 and, of course, on
                  the 83rd anniversary of the assassination of the Archduke--June 28,
                  1997--Jupiter will be at 21+ Aquarius (exactly where Jupiter was on
                  June 28, 1914)! Keep in mind that the beginning of World War I in
                  1914 was actually the birth of both world wars. World War II came
                  about because the peace treaty imposed upon Germany in November 1918
                  was reviled by militaristic Germans and the Nazis eventually broke
                  every agreement within that peace treaty in their efforts to
                  reconquer Europe."
                • holderlin66
                  The Project for the New American Disaster by Tom Chartier http://www.lewrockwell.com/chartier/chartier60.html holderlin brought: Not only is this not a war
                  Message 8 of 25 , Feb 5, 2007
                    The Project for the New American Disaster
                    by Tom Chartier

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

                    holderlin brought:

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

                    Steiner brought;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    Enter the Project For The New American Century.

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    The Statement of Principles continues:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    The Project for the New American Century issued a warning to America
                    and the world on June 3, 1997. All one had to do was read it and to
                    look at the map. God help us all."
                  • holderlin66
                    R.S. The arrogance and superciliousness of those who imagine themselves to be practical, but whose practicality is the disguised narrow-mindedness which has
                    Message 9 of 25 , Feb 5, 2007
                      R.S.

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

                      Bradford comments on the Consciousness Soul standpoint;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                      The Goetheanum remains, obscure, hidden and out of reach and has all
                      the earmarks of the full and astonishing tale of the obscure path
                      required to find the Holy Grail. And Steiner, Michael, Wagner,
                      Kaspar Hauser and vast numbers of individuals wanted humanity to
                      have this Grail wisdom, and we must keep it alive or it will get
                      utterly lost in watered down Orwellian history and lies.
                    • carol
                      `The greatest misfortune is the harbinger of the greatest redemption `On earth one sees the destruction, yet in the destruction is contained already the seed
                      Message 10 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
                        `The greatest misfortune is the harbinger of the greatest
                        redemption'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


                        38. Message of 29 January l918

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

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

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

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

                        39. Message of 8 February 1918

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        40. Message of 1 March l918

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

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

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

                        Looking back at the moment of my `rebirth', at the beginning of this
                        century, is the lifeblood of my soul; looking back at the time of my
                        suffering before my present entry into the spiritual world gives me
                        the spiritual air I breath. Thinking through with `her' what karma
                        has woven through us over the centuries gives light of day to my
                        soul. Let `her' see the manner in which I live with her in this
                        way. I must hold fast to these great connections in my soul, so that
                        I can live wit those things which move her in the realm of time.
                        For the being who is no longer embodied, those temporal things which
                        come up to him from those who are close to him on earth, enabling him
                        to share in their lives, are like the objects in a room for one who
                        is living. The latter cannot see these objects, however close they
                        may be, unless the light of the sun shines into the room. In the
                        spiritual world, this sunlight is provided by insight into the great
                        spiritual connections. In earthly life one might have the perspective
                        even as an older person of a few decades. Out of the body, one must
                        direct the gaze of the soul across centuries. And this gaze across
                        the centuries must be illuminated by the understanding which one has
                        been able to acquire through contemplating ideas of how things relate
                        to one another in the greater dimension of the spirit. ..In the life
                        of the spirit, one has constantly to re-enliven the thought with
                        one's own life of soul, just as, in life on earth, the physical body
                        must constantly breather in fresh air. Thus it is also good when
                        tried and tested thoughts keep coming up from those who are still
                        living in the body.
                      • Valerie Walsh
                        ... Hey, hey, my, my... ... They do make an excellent grilled cheese there. ... for ... so ... fish ... I never watched Meet your Meat but I liked Store Wars a
                        Message 11 of 25 , Feb 7, 2007
                          --- In anthroposophy@yahoogroups.com, "chanting_om"
                          <blue_star_in@...> wrote:

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

                          Hey, hey, my, my...

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

                          They do make an excellent grilled cheese there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                            http://moviesnooneshouldsee.wordpress.com/2006/12/12/27/
                          • Mark Willan
                            Hi everyone I set out a few more pieces of the mosaic of what is going on across the planet: RS referred to the Apocalypse of the Mount of Olives (Matt 24,
                            Message 13 of 25 , Feb 14, 2007
                              Hi everyone

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                              So should we all, IMHO.

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

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

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

                              Nor can they this time. 

                              Just my tuppence worth.








                              Mark Willan

                              21 Balmoral Park
                              #02-14 Pïnewood Gardens
                              Singapore 259850

                              Tel: +65 64040702
                              Mob: +65 9019 4314





                            • holderlin66
                              In French, alternate history novels are called uchronie. This neologism is based on the word utopia (a place that doesn t exist) and the Greek for time,
                              Message 14 of 25 , Feb 15, 2007
                                "In French, alternate history novels are called uchronie. This
                                neologism is based on the word utopia (a place that doesn't exist) and
                                the Greek for time, chronos. An uchronie, then, is defined as a time
                                that doesn't exist. Another occasionally-used term for the genre
                                is "allohistory".

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

                                19th century

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

                                Bradford comments;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                Bradford concludes;

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

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

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

                                Philip K. Dick wrote;

                                "Several years ago, when I was ill, Heinlein offered his help,
                                anything he could do, and we had never met; he would phone me to cheer
                                me up and see how I was doing. He wanted to buy me an electric
                                typewriter, God bless him—one of the few true gentlemen in this world.
                                I don't agree with any ideas he puts forth in his writing, but that is
                                neither here nor there. One time when I owed the IRS a lot of money
                                and couldn't raise it, Heinlein loaned the money to me. I think a
                                great deal of him and his wife; I dedicated a book to them in
                                appreciation. Robert Heinlein is a fine-looking man, very impressive
                                and very military in stance; you can tell he has a military
                                background, even to the haircut. He knows I'm a flipped-out freak and
                                still he helped me and my wife when we were in trouble. That is the
                                best in humanity, there; that is who and what I love."
                              • holderlin66
                                Take out your Main Lesson books Spiritual Science students. Today we are offering the Giant s Heart a discourse on current events. Bradford brought; That is
                                Message 15 of 25 , Feb 16, 2007
                                  Take out your Main Lesson books Spiritual Science students.
                                  Today we are offering the Giant's Heart a discourse on current
                                  events.

                                  Bradford brought;

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

                                  Bradford adds;

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

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

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

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

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

                                  The Heartless Giant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                  And Middle Brother did not come back either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                  Prince Leo lived to be a great age, became King, had forty-two
                                  grandchildren, and told them all that tale. But in his story the
                                  Giant got back his heart and made amends for all his wrongs.
                                  Because, you see, despite all that took place, a little boy once met
                                  a Giant and they became friends."
                                • Carol
                                  re:The Heartless Giant Funny, how the solution to one of the most complex riddles which Humanity will be forced to resolve, has already been successfully
                                  Message 16 of 25 , Feb 17, 2007

                                    re:The Heartless Giant

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

                                     

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

                                     

                                    PRESIDENT SEES LIGHT SURROUNDING HIM    

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

                                     

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

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

                                    Bradford brought;

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

                                    Bradford adds;

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

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

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

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

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

                                    The Heartless Giant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                    And Middle Brother did not come back either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                  • holderlin66
                                    Profile in Ahrimanic intrusion and Soul overshadowing. The Voice of the White House Washington, D.C., March 18, 2007: Early last week, I was having dinner
                                    Message 17 of 25 , Mar 20, 2007
                                      Profile in Ahrimanic intrusion and Soul overshadowing.

                                      The Voice of the White House

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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