Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Search for a word within this document – use the  Ctrl + F keys  on your keyboard.

Leave a suggestion or comment >CLICK HERE<. 

REB-1B.10 Confessions: The Birth of a Mystery School®


2012-01-01. The Birth of a Mystery School.

“Confessions of a Rebel Angel; The Wisdom of the Watchers and the Destiny of Planet Earth.”. – Book 1B. Chapter  10. ~ by Timothy Wyllie

Harsh Awakenings, Prince Caligastia’s Vision, Melchizedek Receivers, Atlantean Incarnations, and “As Below, so Above”



Confessions of a Rebel Angel.  Book 1B. Chapter  10. The Birth of a Mystery School.

Even before M A’s ruling on the Systemwide quarantine finally made itself felt, Van and the other 39 staff—along with 56 of their modified companions, all of whom remained faithful to the old ways, together with less than ten thousand midwayers—had already relocated a few miles outside the city walls. Caligastia and his fellow travelers, under the general leadership of Nod, took over the city and quickly started to spread news of the new freedoms among the surrounding tribes. It was an exciting time, and we could see the immediate fruits of liberation in the way some tribes surged ahead. After a couple of years, Van and the so-called loyalists were forced to move even farther away, but they still needed to visit the city and eat their ration of the leaves and fruit of the remarkable shrub that was sustaining their immortality. They would have liked to have taken the sacred plant with them, but they were afraid it would die if they tried transplanting it under such uncertain conditions. This led to a situation that I can only describe as absurd. While the city was firmly in Caligastia’s hands, the shrub and the Temple were not.

All through those seven uncertain years, a small group of loyalist angels and midwayers defended the shrub from the rebel staff, allowing only Van’s loyal staff and companions through for their rations. This soon became irrelevant at the point when M A shut down the incoming cosmic frequencies, thus condemning all hundred staff and their modified companions to ultimate mortality. Yet, for a while it created a laughably incongruous sight. Every few days, Van and his 39 staff members, together with their 72 modified companions, would troop into the city to find themselves making their way toward the Temple between long lines of Caligastia’s faithful followers. The recently introduced permissiveness was just starting to take hold under the new order, so some of the sights that members of Van’s group were bound to see as they hurried onward, and from which they desperately tried to avert their eyes, they found both horrifying and fascinating.

Clothing standards were the first to change (or deteriorate according to one viewpoint), as Caligastia’s emphasis on individual freedom was encouraging unexpected acts of exhibitionism. Gone were the sober, single-color robes of the prior regime, replaced by clothes of every shape and color, and, more embarrassing still to the conservative loyalists, large expanses of flesh were now clearly (and temptingly) visible. There were changes, too, in the Seraphic Over-government, although “government” isn’t quite the right word. They have little to do with governing human beings, their function being to coordinate the vast number of angels working on the planet at any one time, whether they are companion angels, or the angels of technology, or the angels of the churches. We heard that twelve Melchizedek Receivers had arrived, as we knew they were required to do on all defaulting planets, to advise the Seraphic Over-government in such times of transition.

As I mentioned, the Over-government has almost nothing directly to do with individual humans, but at times of great upheaval, as with a System-wide rebellion, Melchizedek Receivers are sent to join that planet’s Seraphic Over-government in reorganizing the angels. I imagine, for example, it will have been these Melchizedek Receivers who probably decided to keep the likes of me present on the planet, while exiling many others of my kind for their support of the rebel faction. Everything seemed to be moving along extremely fast. We hadn’t seen Van or any of his group for months, and neither the Temple nor the sacred shrub appeared to be safeguarded any longer. We finally held the city and all the surrounding area, but as the years passed we realized we had become increasingly isolated from the real power center of the planet. It was only later that we discovered that the Melchizedek were supporting Van and his followers, who had by this time established their settlement in the mountains close to the Indian border to separate themselves from Caligastia’s “baleful influence” (their words).

Then, shortly after we found this out, we heard that all 39 staff who had remained with Van were being quietly returned to Jerusem to be reunited with their Atmans. Their job was apparently over. This news was worthy of a mighty celebration in the city. We had finally won. We’d chased those old stick-in-the-muds right off the planet. Finally, we had the world to ourselves to experiment with as we saw fit. We were going to make good use of this opportunity to be out from under the stifling constraints of M A’s bureaucracy and the tired old rules of planetary governance.  We were going to show them! Then came the more puzzling news that Van and his right-hand advisor, one of the modified mortals named Amadon, had remained on-planet, together with as many as two hundred of their followers. They had apparently declared their determination to keep M A’s light alive in the world in spite of the disruption of the rebellion. So it wasn’t going to be entirely our planet alone, after all!

How easy, how tempting it is to be wise after the event. Yet if I’m to truly understand how our idealistic dreams of an advanced planetary population of courageous, independent freethinkers went so badly wrong, I need to delve into what has not been revealed in available Multiverse records, as well as perhaps casting some light on what seems to have become accepted wisdom in some quarters. First, let me make it clear: we whom they called the rebels, we sincerely believed we were serving a higher purpose, even as we were reviled by M A’s puppets, accused of the one inexcusable sin of rejecting their authority. I can’t speak directly to what was going on in the minds of Caligastia or Daligastia, but I when we were able to show the natives the benefits of planning for the future, of grandparents learning to love their grandchildren. The average life span had increased, due to some better childbearing techniques and the few health benefits, like clean water, that we were able to introduce. But even those simple improvements needed to be reinforced time and time again. It was not as if the natives were naturally unintelligent—they weren’t. In general, they were a remarkably bright lot. However, as we’ve previously seen, they tended to be crippled by their fears.

While they might have made delightful companions as individuals, as Amadon demonstrated in his devotion to Van, collectively they reverted all too quickly to their animalistic emotions. Even though we might return one of our trainees to his or her tribal family fully equipped with the latest information, if that tribe becomes threatened, then everything the trainee learned in the city will be immediately forgotten in the emotional intensity of fright and flight. Years of work would be thrown away in one superstitious moment. The improvements we’d been able to implement over those laborious 300,000 years all melted away within 100 years of Caligastia’s taking control, demonstrating how superficial and evanescent those improvements actually were. The staff had constantly felt restricted by M A’s regulations, like the prohibition on introducing any development that wasn’t entirely natural to that time and place. But, what was “entirely natural” on a world such as this? Many times over the millennia I’d overheard different members of the staff complaining that if they followed that instruction, they would never be introducing any developments at all.

They said how much they resented being constantly alerted to the ever-present danger of robbing the natives of their hard-won heritage by introducing ideas ahead of their time. This, too, had contributed to slowing progress to a crawl. Thus, when the rebellion broke out, many supported Caligastia’s argument that the planetside situation directly reflected the stultifying certainly believed they were initially sincere in their belief in their plans for accelerated evolution. We had limped along for the past three thousand centuries, and we hadn’t much to show for it. We were still stuck in the city, and the difficulties of the missionary work never seemed to ease up. There was something about this hominoid—a mix of cunning, timidity, aggression, and intelligence—that made them almost impossible to control.

Our training had emphasized the challenges facing any mortals in worlds where they had evolved as a result of the planet’s normal evolutionary biological processes. They warned us that this was made even more difficult when the level of predation from wild animals was as extreme as it was in this dog-eat-dog world. The constant state of wariness, punctuated by moments of extreme stress and violence; the fear of darkness and of a sudden death lurking in the shadows; the perpetual clan and intertribal warfare and the many terrors of an uncertain life—all this and more, we were told, was designed to produce ultimately a race of mortals who would be courageous, resourceful, and loyal. But in those early days, most of what we had to deal with was their fear and violence. I have heard M A’s official propaganda claims that “. . . you can have little or no concept of the marvelous progress of those faraway times . . .” But it was an exaggeration. There was some progress, of course, but it was painfully slow.

Family life certainly improved among the tribes, especially atmosphere M A imposed on the Local Universe administrators. The Prince, and he would have known, spoke of some terrible errors. In one case he quoted, the information that a planet was ripe for life implantation was delayed for a million and a half years—because the file got lost in a bureaucratic mixup ! And that wasn’t an exception, according to the Prince. In fact, on another occasion I recall Daligastia channeling through Tut, making a joke about the official mismanagement during a brief pause in one of his tirades, when he said with a smirk, “As below, so above!” That got a few wry laughs from his audience. Those of us with a wider experience of M A’s oppressive and increasingly unreliable bureaucracy knew perfectly well what he was implying, and we agreed between us that something drastic needed to be done. If it wasn’t Lucifer who opposed the hierarchy when he did, we all reckoned it would have had to be something else to blow away the cosmic cobwebs. Even Van, as we discovered much later, had failed to receive a vital missive from M A’s high representatives supporting his opposition to Caligastia and the rebellion, and at a time when he would have been most grateful to have received it. Apparently the message got lost in galactic cyberspace.

The fact that Van continued with his mission on the planet (remember, he was the one loyalist staff member who chose to remain here) for the next 165,000 years, before being pulled back to Jerusem some 35,000 years ago and reunited with his Atman, speaks very impressively of his determined and loyal service. In retrospect I have come to admire his tenacity and the way he was able to resist Caligastia’s hostile opposition for so long. However, at the time we thought Van and his little pack of followers were a mere nuisance—and fools at that. Why couldn’t they understand that we were going to open the eyes and enlighten this recalcitrant populace with our revolutionary ideas and our gift of personal freedom and independence? We were going to turn it all around. Van could shuffle along for all he was worth, but sooner or later we were sure he was going to have to come around to our way of thinking.

We had confidence. Oh, yes, we did— foolish as it now sounds. For the first half-century we boldly pushed ahead. No longer did the staff who remained in the city telepathically invite the appropriate natives to come to the city for training before returning them to their tribes. That was deemed far too slow—too selective and measured. “Too elitist” was the gossip I heard. And considering that there were only 4,300 natives living with us at the time of the rebellion, and that was after 300,000 years of hard work, you can understand why Caligastia might have felt justified in taking more direct action. Now the staff was being ordered to go out into the local tribal areas in person and use their impressive presence to shock the natives into more rational behavior. Just as a village in Ohio or Kent or Provence might react today to a couple of seven-foot-tall, supremely confident intra-terrestrials appearing on their streets, so did we hope these direct interventions would have a salutary effect on the natives.

Sometimes it worked. We did have a few initial successes using this radical form of behavior modification, but even these started to fade whenever the staff withdrew their presence. Mostly, it was an appalling failure. In certain cases the tribes people were terrified by the appearance of these magnificent superhumans, whom they had likely only heard about in the legends they told each other around the fires and whom they believed would melt back into the surrounding forest. In other worse cases, the staff ’s dominating appearance frequently produced a form of cognitive dissonance or a fugue state of mind among the native tribes they visited, which rendered them quite useless for any training at all. Also, because the only tribes people we ever encountered in the city were of the most superior type—which is why they’d been invited in the first place—we had little experience with those natives who hadn’t met our strict criteria for induction. We invariably underestimated the depth of their native cunning.

Sometimes an entire tribe would pretend to be compliant and respectful to a particularly ambitious staff member (Böni fell into this trap more often than most), while reverting to their old, primitive, tribal ways the moment they were on their own again. Another factor we didn’t take into account until far too late ended up creating even more tribal imbalances. Some tribes were starting to gain an edge over the others if they were more open to the technological advances we were proposing. They would then use these advantages to dominate and enslave the neighboring tribes. When we realized that there was nothing much we could do to mitigate this development once the natives’ bloodlust took control, an unfortunate change began occurring in the staff, especially among those mainly concerned with the most belligerent tribes. I believe it started innocently enough when two of these technologically advanced tribes collided with each other and fought viciously, almost to the last man. I happened to overhear the two staff members, each responsible for the development of one of the two warring tribes, placing bets on the outcome. Even with the more relaxed standards of the new regime, I was certain that this wasn’t a good sign. Because I merely chanced to overhear the staff members, it wasn’t in my nature to report it to Daligastia—not that it would have made any difference.

The staff ’s detached indifference to the plight of their human charges had been starting to turn more callous for some time. For the record, however, I will say that I believe the source of much of the midwayers’ later bad behavior lay in the example of the arrogant carelessness of the staff present, as betrayed by this seemingly insignificant wager. Soon this sort of casual irresponsibility spread to others of the staff, and it didn’t stop there. They made it something of a game to rig the odds by surreptitiously giving the edge to one group over another with superior strategies and weaponry. As you might imagine, this led to more conniving and even more violence, as the staff broke into factions, progressively alienated from one another. One of the few gratifying results of this new competitive atmosphere, as well as the new freedoms being preached, was that the tribes closest to the city experienced an immediate spurt in cultural and technological advancement. We took this as an excellent sign that Caligastia’s brilliance had solved the problem that had bedeviled our work for so long. “Add some competition,” he used to preach, “and see what we’ve been missing all these years!” And, if the results were as promising as they appeared, perhaps it was this short-lived success that made the staff feel that they could get away with a little friendly wager on the side. While this rapid development briefly held true for those in close proximity to the city, when we attempted to introduce the same freedoms to the outlying tribes, the result was terrible confusion as the old ways, which had served them well for so long, disintegrated around them.

This weakened state led to the inevitable invasions and massacres that followed as the more advanced tribes expanded into their territories. Once again, this produced a consequence that none of us intended. Because of our interference, a growing distrust of the staff and the other city dwellers was starting to gain some traction among many of the tribespeople. The goodwill we’d originally established, which was hard won and vital to our mission and which we’d striven to maintain over the millennia, was starting to crumble away. Bit by bit, it seemed to those of us who were observing, the corruption was setting in. Soon the staff was infiltrating the tribes with midwayers ordered to sow trouble wherever they could. They manipulated people’s fear of tribal and racial differences; they reinforced their superstitions by working invisible sleights of hand; midwayers would appear and disappear at will, thus fortifying the homegrown impulse toward ghost worship; they deliberately set tribe against tribe and individual against individual.

No longer was our mission about cultural upliftment; it became purely about spreading rebellion. Attempts to accelerate cultural advancements were quickly forgotten as the staff reveled in all that had been previously forbidden. The gambling with human lives hardened their hearts. Their power to foment violence and mayhem whenever they desired became an addiction. The technology of fermentation, previously forbidden, led to stills being set up in the city and the blight of public drunkenness. The fandors disappeared from the city. We heard that they were working with Van’s group. Work with the pigeons ground to a halt as the birds were stolen for food. Competition between different members of the staff, which started as games, soon became divisive. Colleagues who were previously close split into cliques and subgroups, and then into individuals, each insisting on the righteousness of their causes.

They fought duels, but their very immortality prevented any definitive result. They set their all-too-mortal followers against one another and wallowed in the bloodshed. The staff indulged in all their forbidden desires. The basic prohibition against having sex with humans, which had been rigidly enforced since the staff ’s arrival, began to be ignored as a series of rapes further terrified the mortal inhabitants of the city. This, no one had predicted. Yet thinking about it later, perhaps it was always a lot to expect exemplary behavior from a group of relatively unsophisticated (in Multiverse terms) beings after 300,000 years of being good and toeing the line. I would hear them talking to one another about all the delectable experiences in which they hadn’t had a chance to indulge during their lifetimes in the worlds of their mortal birth. If the more tentative members of the staff raised any objections to this growing corruption (and few did), they were firmly reminded that by following Lucifer and Caligastia, all sixty of them had already made the most perilous decision of their eternal lives. A little innocent fun wasn’t going make it any worse. As I write this story, I find myself asking, at what point did I start to realize not simply that our rebellious dreams had all but evaporated, but that the very beings in whom we’d put our faith and confidence were becoming irrevocably corrupted in front of our eyes? And there wasn’t much we Watchers could do about it. We’d made that perilous choice, too.

We’d supported the brilliance of Lucifer, Satan, and Caligastia, because, like us, they were part of the celestial hierarchy. High beings, they were. We simply couldn’t believe they would lead us astray. Like them, many of us had heard the whispers of the Holy Mother’s voice and had taken courage from this Divine whisper that we were choosing the right course of action. We’d agreed to get on the boat: now there was nothing we could do but sail in it wherever it took us. Please understand that I’m not justifying my decision here. I made my choice, and I have to live with it. Whether the Mother’s voice ultimately turns out to be an authentic manifestation of Her mysterious influence or a deliberate bit of contrived telepathic misinformation from Lucifer’s counterespionage unit has yet to be revealed. Suffice it to say that at the time I fully believed the Mother had reached down and touched those She had selected for this delicate “mission within a mission.” So, right or wrong, we had to live by our decisions.

If, in the choices I make when I tell my story, I appear to focus more on the negative, on what went wrong, it’s because that is what I have witnessed. The available Multiverse records, for example, in describing the Lucifer Rebellion and the effects it had on this planet include several passages applauding the loyalty and courage of various personalities, among them Van and his right-hand man, Amadon. And, of course, there were some glorious feats of bravery and self-sacrifice. Good for them, I say. But was that what the rebellion was really about—a crude test of loyalty? If that is how you read the situation, fair enough. I hold no grudges. We all—Watchers and staff alike—did our best to discern the truth of this almost-inconceivable event, an angelic uprising.

We had no precedent to guide us: the reports of the two rebellions were so heavily redacted as to be no use to us when we sought counsel. We were all flying by the seat of our pants, if we had pants. No one could have known in those heady early days how such an unprecedented situation was going to turn out. Those of us who believed we were following the path of truth, at least as we understood it, have been portrayed subsequently by agents loyal to M A as arrogant, vain, depraved, and downright criminal in our intentions. Even if the later deterioration of the planetary situation over the millennia has justified these accusations, I feel it’s important to assert that our revolution did not start out that way. We were filled with hope and good intentions. We’d faced off against the boundless power of M A, and we believed we’d won the day. The truth had finally triumphed, as Lucifer had always assured us it would. Perhaps I’m paraphrasing one of your savants when I say that if truth and loyalty were to part ways, I will always pledge to follow the truth and let loyalty be damned.

I am a Watcher Angel and my name is Georgia


The following is an excerpt from the Timothy Wyllie’s book series on rebel angels, specifically an account as described by the angel referred to as ,’Georgia”.

To see this and other books b y Timothy Wyllie, Click on book to view more at


Print Friendly, PDF & Email
Email this to a friend
Twitter Tweet
Share on Facebbok
WhatsApp -Share document