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REB-1B.19 Confessions: Rebel Angels and the Goddess®


2012-01-01. Rebel Angels and the Goddess.

“Confessions of a Rebel Angel; The Wisdom of the Watchers and the Destiny of Planet Earth.”. – Book 1B. Chapter  19. ~ by Timothy Wyllie

“The Place of Miracles, Purity of Spirit, Dolphins and Sirius B., Islands of Mu, Lemurian Technology and Confronting the Darkness”



Confessions of a Rebel Angel. Book 1B. Chapter  19.  Rebel Angels and the Goddess.

When the rafts finally arrived on the first of the Lemurian islands, the dolphins set off for the long swim back to Luzon, where Van was preparing the next raft and the people who would sail on her. This unusual convoy continued until there were two thousand courageous young adults, one thousand of each gender, safely ensconced on Mu. Escorted by the dolphins, not one human was lost on the six voyages—something for which the dolphins were particularly proud. It may be stating the obvious to say that dolphins and humans have very different spiritual heritages. There is an important distinction to be made, because it helps clarify some cetacean behavior that humans find extremely hard to understand. I’ve heard dolphin lovers ask, “Why are they so willing to sacrifice themselves, if they are so intelligent?” And: “They seem to want to die. I’ve watched them on TV when they’ve been filmed beaching themselves. People try to push them out, but they swim right back onto the beach.” And indeed it has been a continuing puzzle for humans who have an altogether different concept of death than dolphins. Although many people believe that life continues in some form after death, very few know that for sure. Those few would have had to return from a memorable Near-Death Experience to be certain of it.

In an increasingly materialistic culture it is inevitable that the concept of physical death must mean complete extinction of vehicle, personality, spirit, soul all gone. Not only is this a thoroughly depressing viewpoint, but it leaves a human holding the most ancient of fears with no way of dealing with the reality of personal annihilation. Consequently, this leads most humans to live in a constant state of a repressed terror of death. Yet, like fish in water, humanity has become so accustomed to swimming in this ocean of fear that people barely notice it consciously until suddenly confronted with the awful reality of personal extinction. Even those brave enough to admit their fear of death find little relief, because the fear itself is so strongly built into the animal nature of the species. It just gets repressed all over again. With this observation in mind, it should be obvious how other fears are built on top of this foundation of repressed dread. I wouldn’t be the first to point out that fearful people are easier to distract, control, and manipulate.

So, when scientists examine a dolphin’s brain and find it as richly convoluted and complex as a human’s, and when they note that the brainbody weight ratio of the two species—the correlation by which intelligence is assessed—actually favors the dolphin, they will all be talking in purely material terms. Of course, as humans must know from their everyday lives, it is how an intelligence is used that counts, not in most cases the size of a person’s brain. Science also largely fails to take into account that an individual’s intelligence can exist outside of a physical body. Water is a perfect medium from which to leave a body, and dolphins have used their fine intelligence over millions of years for traveling the inner spaces. It’s this age-long freedom from their bodies that allows them to be unafraid of physical death. In this I should emphasize that I am speaking here about their spiritual nature; their bodies experience all the pain and panic humans would if they, too, were being slaughtered mindlessly on the deck of a trawler.

The difference between them and human beings is that the essential dolphin consciousness is out of her body long before her body hits the deck. Taking all this into account, it should be clear that although cetaceans and humans have coevolved on the same planet, they have two profoundly different views of their lives and their destinies. This also holds true for the long prehistory of cetaceans with particular reference to the family Delphinidae, the more recently evolved oceanic dolphins. Entities from a planet in the nearby Sirius cluster have been choosing to incarnate with these dolphins over the millennia. This pattern of incarnation started about a million years ago around the same time as humans were evolving into fully sentient beings. Think of dolphins much as Watchers, because they are highly evolved and closer in some ways to angels than mortals. They volunteer for their posts in this world, in spite of Earth being regarded as an extremely difficult place, with its filthy, polluted oceans and rivers. But they aren’t here for a pleasant vacation.

They’re here to fulfill their most sacred prophecies. They come here to sacrifice themselves, to allow themselves to be trapped in nets and killed, to present themselves for the various insensate massacres that happen annually among certain cruel and primitive people, to suffer in concrete pools and allow themselves to be dominated by a junior species. The list of human brutality toward a wholly innocent species is endless. Why they do this I cannot say, because whenever I approach them they tell me the equivalent of “It is written . . .” and that is all I can get out of them. They have told me, however, that they count the sun as the fourth star in the Sirius System and feel a direct responsibility to keep an eye on the affairs of Earth. They are not encouraged, nor are they necessarily well equipped, to actively interfere with human activities, although they are known to contact individual humans in the Dreamtime. Yet, as they cooperated with Van in guiding the rafts to Lemuria more than 65,000 years ago, they have also been known to guide other boats, on other routes, at key points in human history. On a more everyday level, their tradition of saving human lives when they can, and of befriending particular individuals under special circumstances, has more recently opened people’s hearts to this other, thoroughly alien intelligence.

This should be placed and understood in the broader context of humanity’s imminent revelation of the presence of extraterrestrials and angels and the unusual destiny of this unlikely planet. There are deeper threads to the dolphin presence here on the planet that will doubtless emerge over the course of this narrative. The part they have played has been a hidden one, and when the truth is finally revealed, most likely in the after-death realms, it will be more evident as to just how important their role has been. Mu was the first island encountered in what was later to become known as the Lemurian continent, although to call it a continent is to somewhat misrepresent it. Lemuria is best described as a long series of islands in the western Pacific, varying greatly in size and straddling the equator from thirty degrees south to forty degrees north.

The civilization that flourished in Lemuria for many thousands of years reached a level of spiritual and emotional maturity never to be seen again in this world before the last of the islands disappeared after a series of cataclysmic Earth changes about twelve thousand years ago. Their enormous stone ruins can be found all over the Pacific Islands. On Tonga, for example, there’s a massive, cut-stone, 109-ton gateway, with a 9-ton, notched lintel. Or consider the island’s enigmatic pyramids or the monumental blocks of stone, some weighing more than 40 tons, skillfully dovetailed together, and all demonstrating a knowledge of gravity unknown to this day. Then there are the massive, carved, basalt platforms and stairways—now one hundred feet under water—which you can still find off the coastline of the Japanese islands of Yonaguni and Okinoshima. What our courageous immigrants weren’t to know, however, until many millennia later was that their beloved motherland, the Lemurian islands of Mu, lay directly over a line of oceanic trenches you know better as the Pacific Ring of Fire. The islands owed their very existence to the volcanic magma seeping up through the trenches to form the land, but that was not something that concerned them.

They truly loved the Earth and felt it was their mother, who’d given them their beautiful islands, just as it was their beloved Van who had led them there. Caligastia has been heard to argue that Van should have known how unstable the islands were; and if he did, he ought never to have led his people there without, at the very least, explaining the risks. A specious argument indeed, from one who’d so blithely dismissed any responsibility for a war that killed many millions of his own people! I don’t believe anyone took his criticisms seriously—we knew too much about Caligastia by that time. We’d seen the writing on the wall. Perhaps Van did know about it—the staff had done a relatively comprehensive civilization he was so carefully nurturing would have spread itself all over the world by that time. In retrospect, I’ve come to believe that he likely knew very well what was coming and reckoned it would toughen up the population, prevent them from becoming excessively complacent on their paradisiacal Pacific Islands.

Although I was unaware of it at the time, it has since become clear to me that whether or not Van knew of Lemuria’s ultimate fate he, like Caligastia on the other side of the world, was subject to the relentless workings of entropy on a rebellion-ravaged world. Both, perhaps unknowingly, were attempting in their own ways to prepare the planet for its unusual and spectacular destiny. However, back on Lemuria some 65,000 years ago, that was all still far in the future. The islands our travelers found, after that long and perilous sea voyage, were indeed a kind of paradise. “Well worth the dangers faced at sea”—I heard as the general consensus among those starting to create the first settlements. Much could be written about those voyages—the storms, the capsized rafts, the occasional shark attack, the dreadful typhoons some of the rafts encountered, the courage of their dolphin guides and protectors—but I’m sure I can leave all that to your imagination. In many ways those trips weren’t so very different from that epic voyage the Norwegian, Thor Heyerdahl, and his crew took on their much smaller raft—the Kon-Tiki, in 1947— in the opposite direction.

Ironically, Thor Heyerdahl was trying to show that Polynesia was originally colonized from the South American mainland, using a remarkably similar approach to raft building that Van implemented so many millennia earlier—traveling west to east from the Asian mainland. What the fine Norwegian explorer failed to take into account were those long millennia in which the great Lemurian civilization thrived, expanding far beyond their survey back in the old days, and they were certainly aware of the structure and movement of tectonic plates. But if he did, he wasn’t saying. Besides, the catastrophes that would ultimately befall Lemuria were still many thousands of years in the future, and Van must have been sure the island homes. As a seagoing culture, they traveled freely all over the Pacific and, toward the end, across the Atlantic and as deep into the Mediterranean as the Nile Valley. They fully explored the Indian Ocean, settling the islands of Madagascar and Sri Lanka.

Moving with the retreating ice, they put roots down in many of the coastal regions of the Northern Hemisphere. Toward the end, and between the two major cataclysms that devastated Mu, they spread from the Indus Valley into Tibet, as well as disseminating their teachings throughout the Americas. The ruins of the cities they built can still be identified by the massive stone blocks and platforms found high on the Peruvian Altiplano. In short, the Lemurian civilization, surely the most mature and technologically advanced the world has yet seen, and lasting during its prime more than thirty thousand years, has to be taken into account in any contemporary survey of prehistory. I accept that the scientific approach to archaeology and anthropology needs to move slowly, building a coherent picture from discoveries that can be confirmed and experiments that can be replicated and from which predictions can be extracted.

This is an admirable approach when dealing with matters that can be confirmed or replicated, but it’s not without its dangers. One of the most serious distortions has been the assumption that human history, as you have been led to believe, started at the point at which artifacts can be carbon-dated. But for that, of course, an artifact is required. As I’ve previously stated, with the exception of what the midwayers have squirreled away in their Treasure of El Dorado project, nothing remains of Lemuria save their massive blocks of worked stone, most of which remain under water. And because such stonework cannot be accurately dated—and the manner in which blocks of stone, some weighing up to three hundred tons, were evidently lifted, transported, and manipulated so easily by a prehistoric people, doesn’t fit into the established narrative—Lemuria remains largely ignored, or worse, ridiculed, by scientists who’d be wise to be more open-minded.

Van’s approach all through the troubled times since the rebellion was to adhere as much as possible to M A’s original instructions for the Prince’s mission. As I’ve demonstrated, he’d had to make some compromises as his territories spread across Asia. So his colonization of the islands of Mu represented a chance for him to create and oversee a culture that would mature in a natural fashion, in conjunction with M A’s plans for the world. He’d made sure to telepathically draw only the finest genetic stock available to him for the venture. But this also touched a nerve, because for Van it represented another of his compromises. When he’d heard from one of his midwayer agents assigned to keep an eye on Caligastia’s activities that the Prince had instructed his staff to produce children with humans before they died, this edict, so the agent reported, also applied to any midwayer capable of coupling with a native. This was a far rarer occurrence, because only a small proportion of midwayers were capable of sustained emotional and physical manifestation. This news left Van with something of a Sophie’s choice. He knew perfectly well that Caligastia was hedging his bets by trying to produce as many dominant bloodlines as possible. There was no way Van felt he could compete.

The staff who had remained loyal to him were long gone, and he was sure not one of his depleted corps of midwayers would have any desire for an intimate relationship with a human being. So, despite being a stickler for the rules and knowing that M A would disapprove, he felt he had little choice but to encourage Amadon to mate with many women and produce as many children as possible. I should add that Van, too, was known to have taken wives in hopes of procreating, but as far as I know there were no progeny from his unions. Contrary to Caligastia, who set great stock on preserving his carefully nurtured bloodlines through centuries, Van had insisted that the hybrid gene, introduced by Amadon and the few loyalist midwayers who proved capable of offspring, be distributed as widely as possible throughout the native population. Consequently, when Van sent out his telepathic invitation, he had been able to draw from a broad distribution of excellent genetic material. This ensured that the new civilization he was nurturing on Lemuria, and which was rapidly expanding up the chain of islands of Mu, would start with the best chance of producing a well-balanced, spiritually advanced, ecologically aware, and socially equitable society—one that could flourish for millennia.

Van knew all about Caligastia’s approach to nation building—his policy of divide and conquer; his penchant for pitting the strong against the weak; the Prince’s use of his midwayers to wreak havoc wherever he required; all the lies, the bribery, the manipulations; and the puppet rulers and the distrust of authority such corruption breeds. Based on these traits, Van realized that Caligastia would be imprinting the World Mind in the most negative way imaginable. His basic concept for Lemuria, as a work of social and spiritual engineering, was to foster a civilization that would function as a counterbalance to the chaos and fear Caligastia and his minions were sowing in the World Mind. If Van were going to be able to cultivate his ideal civilization and keep Caligastia’s meddling fingers from corrupting his project, he knew he’d have to keep the Prince and his midwayers from trying to corrupt the peoples’ minds. This he managed to do by subtly shaping the religious impulse of the Lemurians, as they were now calling themselves. As I’ve previously noted, Van had already reluctantly counseled worship of the sun as a visible symbol for the Unseen God, the Invisible Father Spirit, just as he’d later permitted Earth to represent the Mother Spirit. Sun and Earth, therefore, could be experienced directly as mighty energies—personified or not—and both quite capable in their own ways of supporting life and, just as easily, extinguishing it. In this manner both Sun and Earth can be understood as encompassing their own polarities.

Mother Earth either supported a fine harvest, or She might destroy the crops in a hailstorm. Father Sun either warmed the Earth, or He could bake the ground to a desert. There was no one to blame, no devilish figure working behind the scenes making life difficult for humans. They were simply natural events, following natural and potentially explainable cycles. By the time the Lemurian culture was starting to flourish around fifty five thousand years ago, the good sense of Van’s clever piece of religious engineering was bearing fruit. With no supernatural agency to blame, with no “devil to make me do it,” people were brought face-to-face with their own failings and were compassionately supported in taking remedial action. This, in turn, allowed for a natural increase in empathy that individuals felt for one another; they understood another’s suffering because they accepted their own failings. Over the millennia, all aspects of Lemurian culture had become imbued with this sensitivity to truth, beauty, and goodness. Countless generations of the people of Mu were able to sustain a brilliant and successful culture for more than thirty thousand years with the single overriding commandment of “Be kind.”

This speaks to the profound potential of the human spirit to express itself freely and harmoniously within the rhythms and the needs of the natural world. Because they lived in harmony with themselves, the Lemurians could feel and respond to the harmony of the natural world. They loved their beloved motherland with a purity of passion that induced them to constantly express their gratitude in their massive building works, which they designed to modulate telluric energies while balancing and beautifying the natural environment. The Chinese art of feng shui saw its first and finest flowering on the islands of Mu. The Lemurian landscape architects took the art to an entirely different level, of which the mere placement of buildings is but the dimmest reflection. Such was the Lemurian skill with feng shui that by building with certain forms and in materials responsive to electromagnetic energy, they were able to create different localized microclimates in which they able to grow a wide variety of fruits not indigenous to the islands. Because the Lemurians approached the natural world without the pantheist’s sentimentality, they were able to gain access to some of nature’s most closely guarded secrets.

They’d learned the art of working with focused sound, for instance, to create frequencies with which they could manipulate matter. The enormous granite blocks, lifted into place by a technology that continues to baffle contemporary engineers, were floated into position by sonically reproducing the frequency of gravity. The quartz content of the granite conveniently resonated to the appropriate vibration, which I’m told is 1,012 hertz, thus nullifying gravity to the extent that a seventy ton block of stone can be moved with the lightness of a feather. In fact, the masons working on some of the great monumental structures that were rising on many of the larger islands of the Lemurian archipelago became so proficient at their craft that they could be seen riding on the blocks, skillfully guiding them into place by using their voices to micromodulate the harmonics of the basic beat frequency, which was doing the lifting work. Their ability to control the weather, necessitated by the vicious typhoons that yearly slashed their way through the islands, was a scientific art, which disappeared with the final demise of Lemuria at the dawn of the modern era some twelve thousand years ago.

A truly fine civilization emerged, the finest the world has yet seen. Van’s mission was successful. He’d demonstrated that even on the most rebellion-ravaged world it was possible to develop a morally and spiritually evolved culture whose technology was not destructive but worked harmoniously with the natural forces and energies of the Multiverse. It was scarcely surprising then, that the midwayer guardians, working directly with the planetary Over-government, permitted a scouting group from one of the more advanced of the 258 inhabited worlds in the Pleiades cluster to break the planetary embargo and make contact with the council of Lemurian grandmothers. This led over time (and the visitors were the soul of caution and consideration in furthering the initial contact) to the Pleiadeans establishing a base on one of the islands of Mu. Due to the wisdom and generosity of the grandmothers, the visiting extraterrestrials were given one of the most beautifully developed of the islands for their purposes. This gave the Pleiadeans a physical locus on Earth from which they could conveniently slip through into the previously mentioned more advanced frequency domain of the Dal universe, which exists in a parallel dimension to the one in which you are reading these words. It was a glorious time to be a Watcher on this planet, and I even found it possible to put aside all thoughts of the ghastly catastrophe Caligastia had wrought on the other side of the world.

To my surprise, I had no desire to visit Zandana throughout the millennia of Lemuria’s ascendence, neither to escape the horrors of Caligastia’s excesses, nor from the desperate need to regain my balance and sense of self as I had done on my previous sabbatical on Zandana. Yet, if I ever thought my life of observing the progress of Lemuria’s culture was going to continue uneventfully, I had no idea what the Multiverse held in store. And what of Caligastia? What was he up to while Van was implementing his plans on the other side of the globe? We left the Prince surveying the ruins of his two empires after a war that had rendered most of North Africa, the Middle East, and much of southern Europe desolate and completely uninhabitable for many thousands of years. I’ve speculated as to whether the Prince might be considered insane by this time, but he was certainly not unintelligent. Even though his removal of the scientists from his North African laboratories and factories had indirectly provoked the war, given the resulting devastation it turned out to be a nefariously clever move. He’d saved some of his precious technological knowledge and the scientists necessary for its implementation.

He would be able to pursue his obsession over invading Van’s territories in the laboratories on Atlantis, the name now given to the island that became the scientists’ new home. He knew it would likely take many millennia for a self-sustaining technological society to emerge, that there would be an unpredictable number of collapses and revivals before a society materialized that was stable and wealthy enough for its scientists to devote themselves to sophisticated weapons development. However, Caligastia was in no hurry. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was nothing if not patient. And, from what I could observe, he was confident that he would be able to keep the Atlanteans under his control through the skillful use of his faithful midwayers. Yet, once again, the Prince made the error of sorely misjudging human nature. The island continent of Atlantis was a geological marvel. If I were to describe it from the air, I would have to say it appeared as though it had been deliberately carved by some gigantic Earth sculptor. It certainly looked like a fabricated thing.

The main island was dominated by a magnificent central, dormant volcano, its slopes falling in a series of concentric steps down to the wide fertile plain that encircled the island. Surrounding this were three concentric rings, each one the circular ridge of a previous caldera. Unlike the islands of Lemuria—which were also volcanic and which developed successively, tracing a route along the various trenches in the eastern Pacific—the powerful volcano that formed the island of Atlantis recast itself over and over again in the same location. The original eruption had collapsed into the magma chamber below, leaving the ridge of the caldera like a great circle in the ocean.

A resurgent dome then formed in the center of the caldera, building over time into a formidable new volcano. This, in turn, erupted and then collapsed, forming the second ridge, separated from the first by a circular channel of sea some five miles in width. This process then repeated itself over millions of years to form the third circular caldera and then later the island of Atlantis itself. The central volcano had not erupted for 780,000 years, so both the island and the ridges that encircled it were delightfully fertile. There were gaps in the outermost ridges that had weathered down to allow the ocean into the intervening channels. Birds of all colors and sizes filled the trees, as did a profusion of winged insects borne there by the powerful westerly winds, but there was almost a complete absence of the animals that the people had known on the mainland. The various scientists, together with their families, started by making their homes in some of the larger lava tubes while they did their best to reconstruct their laboratories. Yet, something had changed. I could feel it as I observed their efforts to laboriously hack their buildings out of the rock.

They’d been made aware by one of the midwayers who was having second thoughts about his loyalty to Caligastia that the mainland had been laid waste by the war. Although they clearly felt privileged to have been saved, they were far more ambivalent about pursuing or even thinking about further research into nuclear energy. Besides they had far more pressing issues to consider, like survival! I’m speculating here, but I believe Caligastia deliberately planned to leave the people on Atlantis alone to pull their lives together. I suspect that by this time he would have known all about human beings’ capacity for cultural amnesia. Allow twenty thousand years to pass and he was fairly sure the war and the fear of nuclear energy would have passed into myth and superstition. Also, that would allow sufficient time for the radiation on the mainland to dissipate and give the land a chance to come back to life. What the Prince did find when he finally returned to Atlantis was a thriving civilization of remarkably high general intelligence. Much work had been done to beautify the island—the three concentric channels had been cleared so boats moved easily between the ridges, wharfs had been cut out of the rock sides of the calderas, and splendid houses lay in a long line, perched on the cliff edges.

As I previously hinted, most of Caligastia’s midwayers had been assigned, or had chosen for themselves, specific roles and functions. Some of them also insisted on staying in one general location, as was true for Atlantis. The midwayer in this case was one of those who had insisted on his own primacy. His obstreperousness had made him unpopular with his kin, and his constant doubting of the Prince had made him of little use in Caligastia’s immediate plans. As a consequence, Poseidon (as he was later known) was given Atlantis as his locus of influence. Because of his affinity for the oceans of the world and his work with the dolphins, he thought that he was being given a prize! But later I overheard Caligastia sneeringly joking with a midwayer in his inner circle about “sending that empty vessel Poseidon as far away as possible.” Poseidon was bound to have heard about such an open insult, which is why I’m sure he decided, against Caligastia’s express orders, to inform the Atlanteans about the devastating war and to offer his aid and protection for the island kingdom. Unfortunately, because a midwayer is a creature of little imagination, all he could counsel was merely an emulation of Caligastia’s policies on the mainland before the war. Besides, I’m sure he felt it was the easiest way of encouraging humans to organize themselves: just allow the most powerful, the most self-serving, the most ambitious and unscrupulous among them to rise to the surface, then throw your support behind those people.

To make the politics on Atlantis even more complicated, Poseidon started lusting after a local girl and through her was soon producing a clutch of twins. Because all ten of these male children possessed a genetic mix of human and midwayer, they grew up to be powerful and magical beings who were also impressively long-lived. When the twins reached adulthood, Poseidon naturally awarded them their own kingdoms within the island continent. Their children and grandchildren, just as naturally, inherited their parents’ kingdoms, along with enough of the genes to allow them exceptionally long lives and initiated the belief in conserving the ruling bloodlines as far as possible. In this way Atlantis came to be divided and subdivided over the centuries, and then over the millennia, under the authority of generations of kings and emperors who spent their time attempting to outdo each other in power and wealth.

Atlantis turned out to be generously rich in all the minerals hurled out of the bowels of the Earth in the many volcanic eruptions that had formed the island continent. The mines for these minerals were spread around in the different kingdoms in such a way as to provide each king with a profitable revenue stream. As a seagoing people, they ranged widely across the Atlantic, colonizing parts of the North and South American coastline as the ice withdrew, as well as conducting extensive mining operations in the American Southwest, before transporting the copper back to Atlantis. So, as the millennia passed, the island continent, with its economic base in high technology, became the shining hope of humanity’s progress on Poseidon’s world—or Caligastia’s world, as the Prince thought of it. “It’s my world, and all that is in it is of me!” This was Yaldabaoth at his most deluded. I sensed that the Prince was merely biding his time. We were all aware by this time that no one was ever intended to outshine him, this self-styled God of the World.


Georgia: The life of a Watcher would feel most strange to a human being for many reasons, because we Watchers locate the core of our existence in an essentially timeless domain. Humans find it convenient to believe that time moves in an orderly forward direction. But this is only a conceit and one to which the human sensorium is tuned. As a humorist has expressed it, “Time exists to stop everything from happening at once.” When Albert Einstein coupled time and space into an inseparable space-time continuum—no space without time; no time without space—he was, of necessity, speaking about the space and time to which his sense apparatus, and that of most other humans, is tuned. This serves your purposes insofar as it concerns your normal material existence. Trains can arrive on time, the trajectory of spacecraft can be calculated accurately, you are born before you die; time’s arrow appears to move in one direction—from present to future. The space-time continuum works within its prescribed limits. But what if those limits are actually the result of the limitations of the human sensorium? As an ant’s senses are tuned to an environment that ensures its survival, so will the insect’s experience of time and space be subject to the limitations of its sensorium. In this way it’s possible to visualize how the perception of space and time depends on the sense apparatus of the perceiver. As a Watcher, my sense apparatus is different from that of a human. My senses are tuned to the space-time continuum in which I find myself, and that continuum is best described as one in which everything happens at once.

It’s a dimension I believe a Yaqui Indian shaman calls the Nagual, and it’s also starting to make its appearance in contemporary physics as the holographic model of the universe. Understand, please, that, as a Watcher, I cannot make anything happen. My sense of continuity only exists inasmuch as I observe your dimension. This is why I need to work through Mein Host’s consciousness—his expanded sensorium— because it gives me a sense of sequence, of causes preceding effects. In a very down-to-earth way, this work would have been impossible without Mein Host’s neural circuitry, his memory bank, as well as his typing fingers. My memories, for example, aren’t stored sequentially but seem to flow into one another. It’s as though another intelligence, a metaprocess perhaps, is at work deciphering and decoding the narrative, plucking the words and images from some vast astral library of all that has occurred on Earth. Associations are being made over which I have little control. Like particles once in contact with one another and now light-years apart, memories separated by millennia seem to resonate in patterns that I, as well as my ward, would never have thought of on our own.

This was not at all what I expected. My agreement with Mein Host extends to his waiting patiently, while listening on his earphones to BBC talk radio to distract his monkey mind, for when my voice rises up through the noise. I’d never considered the possibility that my words were themselves somehow being organized through me for some larger purpose. This is a mystery to me that I can only discover by continuing the narrative to its natural conclusion. It might take three volumes or, just as likely, ten. Until I had almost finished this volume, I had no thought that my writing would see the light of day. I was writing for myself and for my ward, but as I reached the last chapter I suggested to Mein Host that he take the manuscript into an entirely different environment, to read it through and make any edits he thought it warranted. I felt he’d have a clearer perception of the narrative in relatively unfamiliar surroundings. This turned out to be so. I was amused to hear when he’d finished the task at the Washington State home of one of his publishers, that his comment to his host, Adam Parfrey, was that it was like reading a book he’d never read before.

And what’s more, my ward liked it! It was only then that the idea came to us that the document might be of interest to others. And I say us because both of us needed to come to an agreement on this. Mein Host has been wanting to explore the lesser-known and more hidden aspects of the Lucifer Rebellion for at least twenty years. I’ve observed him trying to find his way into the maze of complications and contradictions, the mythologies and cosmologies, the denial and misdirection, and to write what he understood on three separate occasions. It was only when I entered the picture and made my interests clear that between us we found our voice. When we started this project, I had no idea how long or detailed the narration would turn out to be. In this, the first volume of The Confessions, the main actors in the two threads have been through their own hard times and have reached a certain level of catharsis.

Van’s Lemuria is about to come into its fullness as a great spiritual civilization, Caligastia is planning for Atlantis to become the dominant aggressive power and for his further deification, and Mein Host is filled with inspiration and enthusiasm for the Goddess to whom he’s become devoted. Yet, nothing is ever as it seems. My memories are activated by the challenge of narrating them. By working collaboratively with Mein Host, I’ve found that I’m able to use the story of his life as a way of anchoring what otherwise would be an inchoate mass of images with no real sense of sequence. Because I am now completing the second volume, I have the advantage of knowing how the next stages unfold, but the mysteries remain and grow deeper. I have also been able to observe a slow change in my own attitudes as I’ve come to examine the consequences of Lucifer’s rebellion, both in this world and on my privileged visits to Zandana. As I’m writing this in the spring of 2012, it’s no mystery as to how the global situation has turned out in the modern era.

It should also be evident to those not in denial that the human race is approaching a massive transition, a transformation of consciousness that will change the species forever. Yours is a grand destiny—grander than you can imagine. And, it’s being acted out on this seemingly insignificant little planet in a minor sector of a very large Universe, which itself is a small part of an even vaster Multiverse. It seems impossible, doesn’t it? Yet I’ve come to appreciate during my time in this miraculous and mysterious Multiverse that it’s the wisest course of action these days to have faith in the impossible. My deepest interest is how we got here, and, with Mein Host’s collaboration, and God’s Good Graces, I will continue to write my Confessions until I do understand.

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 view this and other books by Timothy Wyllie, Click on book to view more at


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