2013-01-01. Revolt: Deconstructing History.
Revolt of the Rebel Angels: The Future of the Multiverse – Book 2; Chapter 3 ~by Timothy Wyllie.
[speaker]
speaking on Angelic Betrayals, Seraphic Transport, Alien Culture, and A Foolish Joke & Exile.
Although I was still outwardly supportive of Caligastia and my function remained that of observing the Prince’s mission, my every inclination was to accompany Van’s migration to Lemuria. I’d become progressively more disenchanted with the Prince since the initial excitement of the rebellion wore off. For me, Caligastia’s wholly premature distribution of atomic secrets among his scientists, and the dreadful war that followed, was the final proof I needed to know as to how utterly wrong it was for us to have followed Lucifer into the uprising. Yet, to be honest with myself I knew I was still confused as to whether I was really seeing Lucifer’s rebellion playing out as he had hoped and intended; or, whether what was happening on Earth was the product of Prince Caligastia’s growing hubris and his autocratic nature.
Possibly other planets among the thirty-seven whose Planetary Princes, like Caligastia, chose to follow Lucifer and Satan into rebellion, were turning out better than the chaos and brutality on Earth. I missed the terrible atomic war on Earth because at the time I was on a neighboring planet, Zandana, for some recreation. At least, that is what I experienced the previous time I was there. I certainly returned refreshed. To be honest, I could see the way matters were going to play out for Caligastia– even before the war. I was at my wit’s end. I just couldn’t watch another catastrophe. All our hopes were being dashed yet again. So I managed to charm the various authorities for permission to leave and I persuaded a Transport Seraphim to take me, yet I had little idea of what would happen when I arrived on the planet. And, yes, I was put through an emotional and psychic wringer and I had returned to Earth a very different watcher. Now I was considering another trip to Zandana. Prince Caligastia was a lost cause. After the war and with almost all his territories rendered uninhabitable, he had retreated into himself.
I believe he finally understood that he would have to leave humans alone while they gradually built up their numbers and their social organizations all over again. Not only did a sophisticated, yet unfortunately a warlike, culture simply disappear off the face of the planet, but the few human survivors degenerated back to a stone age life. The survivors troubles were exacerbated over time by competition from another genus of human beings who were slowly migrating north from Central Africa. Later, you will know them as the Neanderthals. And, if you subscribe to the opinions of conventional anthropology, you might well think of them as the primary genus of humanity until Cro-Magnon came along twenty thousand years later to scribble so artfully on cave walls.
I don’t believe I will ever quite get used to Seraphic Transport–not because it’s frightening but simply because it’s such an odd sensation. As I’ve previously suggested it must a somewhat like being in a womb–not that I’d know much about that! Watchers, like most celestials in the Local Universe, are created by the Mother Spirit in great clans, tens of thousands at a time, as fully function beings. But traveling in that living creature, wrapped in her embrace for the trip, is the nearest I’ll come to a womb–until I’m incarnated into a mortal body. There is absolutely no sensation of traveling at superluminary speeds–or traveling at any speed at all, for that matter. This being my fourth trip to Zandana, I was more relaxed which is why this time I might have been able to hear the music that seemed to resonate through me during the all too brief trip.
The Transport Seraphim was more friendly to me this time–I imagine I was starting to get the frequent flyer treatment–so she explained the magical sounds to me after we’d arrived. “It pleases me you heard the music,” she was making the words in my mind. “It is one of the reason we Transports love our work so much–the music can never be the same twice.” “By why? How?” “I am told it is an electromagneto-gravitic artifact of our speed through subspace and the precise position of the solar events in relationship to the Transport, although I do not really know what that means!” Apparently, the seraph wasn’t as stuffy as I’d remembered. “All I really understand is that a magnetic current spirals around me as I fly and the music subtly changes when I accelerate or slow down. How this transduces into the slower audible frequencies I have no idea.” “So, can you play the music? “ “I am learning. But it is more nuanced if you can understand this.
The sound is itself an artifact of flight–it’s us who make it into music. Some of my older sisters can co-create entire symphonies on their longer flights. Me? I am just making gestures at this point but, yes, I am improving.” I swear she flashed me a shy smile before she turned away. It meant more to me than I can say. This was the first time since the rebellion that one of M A’s loyalist seraphim had shown me any kindness. Of course she must have known I was counted as one of the rebel angels. I’m told we have a distinct psychic odor about us. It’s this aroma that gradually changes, becoming more pleasing as the coherence of our thought processes once more synchronize with the Multiverse Mind. Yet, she was kind to me. I took it as a good sign. It boded well for my time on Zandana. I could always think and feel more clearly on this world. Back on Earth, Caligastia and his rebel midwayers had sewn such confusion, distrust, and shame in the World Mind that it was often difficult for me to get my thoughts straight.
Although the Planetary Prince of Zandana was one of the thirty-seven Princes who aligned themselves and their planets with the Lucifer cause, this Descending Son had been manifesting a rather different world than Caligastia, a Descending Son of the same Order. In Prince Zanda’s case, ninety-one of his staff and all 91 of their modified human companions, chose to follow him, together with the majority of his pool of fifty thousand midwayers. Those remaining loyal to M A were returned to Local Universe HQ planet following the uprising.
Yet this was after their being allowed to live out their natural lives on another small island continent–Zandana has one large southern continent and ten smaller island continents. So Zanda didn’t have the constant reminder of the rebellious choices which Van presented Caligastia, and which so infuriated Prince Caligastia back on Earth. Although Prince Zanda’s motives for aligning himself with Lucifer were originally much the same as Caligastia’s, his way of conducting himself was completely different. Zanda, too, had believed Lucifer’s assertion that technological progress in the Local Universe was being held up and stunted by some senior celestials for their own opaque purposes.
He also felt he could do a better job if he was given a free hand. Zanda was clearly a very different personality from Caligastia, for example, and he made no claim, as had Caligastia, that he was “God of his World.” On my previous visits I had nothing but admiration for Zandana’s progress even if this was restricted to only one of the 11 continents. Unlike the city of Dalamatia back on Earth, Zandan–the capital city of the large southern continent–was a thriving center of advanced technology and the arts. It was a delightful city, clean and filled with light, with broad tree-lined avenues and official buildings faced with blindingly-white local marble. Their sun, shining through the violet-tinged leaves of the massive trees, threw constantly shifting patterns on the blank white facades.
At first glance I’d thought their architecture somewhat boring and featureless; white blocks mostly between seven and ten floors in height, apparently windowless and lining the central and radial avenues, seemed a remarkably bland environment–until I looked closer. Not only was what I took as the most quotidian of aesthetics–those apparently blank white facades were not what they seemed–but I suddenly had the insight that each structure utterly lacked any mark of its architect’s egotism. No apparent striving for originality-at-all-costs marred a certain natural purity I couldn’t quite place.
What the Zandanans had accomplished with their city architecture was altogether more subtle than I’d allowed possible. When I looked more closely at one of the blank white facades I’d found so lacking in personality, I could see the bottom thirty or forty feet of each building was covered all over with the most delicate tracery, carved into the marble to a depth varying from 1” to 16th of an inch. As the planet moved through its day the shadows formed a constantly shifting series of images delineated by the differing depths of the carved incisions. Naturally the citizens of Zandan were no more aware of me than humans were back on Earth as they walked purposively about their business, sometimes right through me as I gazed up at one of the buildings from the sidewalk of the main avenue.
Perhaps my senses had been dulled by my time on Caligastia’s Earth, because I was surprised at my own amazement when I observed a handful of citizens–all women I might add– stepping carefully around me. Some wrinkled their noses and a couple of them edged around me with slight smiles on their faces. And no, they hadn’t “seen” me, that was clear; but they had sensed me, although I’d no reason to doubt they gave themselves other reasons altogether for avoiding walking through me. Regardless, I was impressed by their unconscious sensitivity to my presence. I wasn’t used to that. Yet it was the delicately modeled facade that was really engrossing me.
As the lavender shadows played over the filigree of carved biomorphic forms, I was slowly being made aware a story was being told. The sculpted forms seemed to come alive as the shadows of the leaves flickered over them and yes, now I could see what the artists were telling me. And it had to be artists in the plural, there was simply too much detailed work for any one artist. Gliding a little closer to the wall which now appeared to me to be writhing with life, there it was.
The history of their home planet Zandana as seen through the lens of the particular Council whose building it was, carved into the marble. It was so delicately fashioned and so massively detailed that the forms could only be seen when a shadow touched a recessed line. Here, I was looking at what must have been their council for technical advancement, because there was the first glint of fire as it was passed from hand to hand; and over here were children playing with small lumps of meteorite iron. I floated up parallel to the wall and there, just below the level of the shadows cast by the treetops, were the more recent tributes to Zandanan technical ingenuity–their gradual mastery of electromagnetism and fluid dynamics; their variety of telescopes and microscopes, with the exacting precision of their lens-crafting reflected in the wondrous delicacy of the carvings.
Over there were the intricate forms of machines and devices etched into the stone, the purposes of which I’d no idea. Then, I saw what had initially so confused me. The shadowed forms of machines and all those enigmatic contraptions, while evidently technical, made-things, were apparently designed to emulate as far as possible the elegant forms of nature. In this way, as I was to discover later, the artists who created these exquisite carvings were reflecting an ancient tradition of integrating science, art, and the Zandanan love of nature, into a subtle and harmonious balance of all three cultural necessities.
Looking up, I could see that here the carvings ended leaving the blank glistening marble surface stretching up to the top of the building. I realized their intention was to gradually fill the facade with their carvings over time, as their inventions and ingenuity advanced over the millennia. Please excuse me, dear reader, if my dwelling on such details, in what must appear to you as a thoroughly alien culture, seems self-indulgent or unnecessary, I plead only that I seek to interest Mein Host, himself once an architect. Should I describe how Zandanans’ dress? Their fashions and fashionable conversation?
The intricacies of their diets and the complexities of their love-lives? For those of you curious about such personal trivia I can only suggest you travel to Zandana in your astral bodies and observe for yourselves. I report only that mortals appearing very much like Earth humans strode about the city streets, except in general, both males and females, were considerably taller and seemed in far better health than any humans I’d observed on Earth. I’d only been on Zandana for a couple of turnings of their sun and already I was feeling filled with more hope than I’d ever felt on Earth. Here was a culture, after all, which was proving as successful as Caligastia’s regime back on Earth was turning out to be a disaster. Might Lucifer have been correct all along?
Was I witnessing here on Zandana the fruits of allowing greater freedom to mortals? Was it only Caligastia’s overweening ambition which had made such a mess of life back on Earth? Was I being somewhat premature in my positive assessment of Zandanan civilization? Had I perhaps been so carried away by all that subtle and delicate cultural beauty that I’ve ignored the gathering storm of rebellion in one of the other, less developed, continents? Why is it that the good never seems to last forever? Is that the most profound curse of the rebellion?
The waterfalls, pouring from the central mountain ranges of Zandana’s southern continent, and the many fast-running rivers down on the plains, had provided the natives with all the power they needed. Zandana’s scientists had developed their understanding of electricity to the point at which they had maglev trains connecting all parts of the continent. The general standard of living, although higher in the city than the countryside, had risen to a level where no one was expected to work for more than three hours a day.
The arts were starting to become a dominating influence with theatrical productions taking the lead. Zandana’s inhabitants were, on the whole, very much less fearful and belligerent than Earth’s natives, since there were far fewer predatory animals on the many continents. Yet, to call Zandanans by nature more submissive would also be missing the point. Of course, there had been wars in the planet’s past, but for the last few thousand years, apart from a few minor scuffles between some of the outlying island nations, peace had prevailed on Zandana. At least, that’s how it was when I left last time. Now, arriving on Zandana, it was hard not to notice the situation had subtly changed. There was a new tension in the air and people were moving around much faster than I remembered. Prince Zanda had previously given me his permission to travel and observe wherever I wished and I didn’t think he would mind if I took advantage of his openhandedness again without asking him.
How wrong I was! I was soon called into his presence because one of his watchers had apparently reported me as a spy, and I found the entire continent had been put on a war footing. The Prince appeared to be deep in discussion with his inner circle when I was ushered through to the Temple Conference Garden. Unava, the Prince’s chief of staff, whom I’d observed briefly on my first visit, was furiously keeping notes on the meeting, while Janda-Chi, the Prince’s closest colleague was holding forth telepathically from his lower subspace perch.
Seven of his most experienced midwayers, also in subspace, clustered around him throwing images of different possibilities around, while Janda-Chi was communicating to Unava. Perhaps I should take a moment here to describe how these various subspace tranches function. Most inhabited planets of Zandana and Earth’s Third-density standing possess the same basic structure on the subtle energy levels. May I suggest you visualize an onion, that perennial metaphor, with its many layers of skin. The first layer you encounter moving outwards (and inwards) from your center of consciousness will be the astral realm. This is a relatively thin tranche which can be best visualized as wrapping around a planet, but it’s still very much contained within the aura of the World Mind.
In the astral realm there are many layers, from the lower astral regions of nightmare and trapped astral shades, to the higher frequencies of discarnate guides, bodhisattvas, and ascended masters. Contiguous to the upper astral are the subspace regions. Although subspace envelopes and wraps around each planet it also extends throughout this Local System of inhabited planets. It can be visualized as a homogenous medium within which third density planets resonate as they orbit their suns. This allows subspace an element of non-locality which both midwayers and visiting extraterrestrials make use of under certain conditions. Subspace can be considered as a relatively dense medium which both encompasses third-density matter, as it also paradoxically interpenetrates the open lattice of the atomic dance.
Similar to the astral realms, the subspace region also possesses many tranches, except these aren’t layers but depend on the resonant frequencies of the participant. The more etheric nature of matter in subspace makes it an extremely malleable medium directly responsive to the state of the consciousness of any who enter it. Subspace has many names in different cultures; Dreamtime for the Australian aborigines; the Nagual, in the Toltec tradition; the fourth dimension, in certain advanced physics; and M A’s documents refers to it as a “midway region,” since it can be thought of being midway between a terrestrial frequency-domain and that of us watchers, in the fifth-dimension. Two extraterrestrials that Mein Host encountered recently reported hailing from a fifth-dimension world existing where you observe the star Arcturus to be from your third-density perch.
They maintained they were required to drop down through the fourth-dimension in order to maintain an observers’ presence in the higher frequencies of Earth’s third-density domain. As an angel who became involved with Lucifer’s rebellion, I am confined to the higher frequency-domains of the fifth-dimension of this planet, and any other world I visit. I have to obtain formal permission to visit other worlds and even then it can only be one of the other 36 planets that followed Lucifer into rebellion. When I’m permitted to travel to Zandana it is I who have to condense my material form sufficiently to drop into subspace for the seraphic transport. Thus it was when I was shown into the city’s Temple garden, I was observing from Zandana’s fifth-dimension domain.
The two Descending Sons, Zanda and JandaChi, and the seven midwayers, were in the lower harmonics of subspace telepathically communicating with Unava, who was firmly ensconced in the planet’s third-density reality. Under discussion was what they were to do about the invasion fleet that had been spotted approaching their southern nation. Apparently, for all their advanced technology, after two thousand years of peace they had grown complacent. They welcomed the occasional immigrant who managed to find their way across the ocean, without thinking they might have been spies. They had also developed a generally peaceful social agenda which well-suited their somewhat passive natures. Believing themselves to be so far superior to the natives on all the other continents, Zandan’s elite insisted on referring to them as ignorant barbarians.
Nevertheless, the aristocrats appeared to take a vicarious pleasure in plays and novels featuring romantic relationships developing between rough, barbarian, princes, and the delicate, well-bred, daughters of Zandan. Yet, were anyone on the southern continent to seriously take a barbarian lover or spouse they would be quickly exiled and returned to wherever the barbarian came from. It was from these occasional returnees, as well as the few spies who managed to get home, that the barbarians learned of the riches awaiting them if they could pull their forces together. Over the recent centuries, with the exception of the one island that Prince Zanda had given to the handful of his loyal staff to live out their natural lives, the other nine islands had formed a bewildering network of alliances, betrayals, and counter-alliances. Yet, in all those years, they had never been able to come together and ally themselves as a single force.
Naturally, the ruling families on most of the islands had been aware of Zandan’s increasing wealth and rapid technological progress for some centuries. They’d been known to take bribes of advanced equipment like video cameras, sound recorders and tooth brushes, modified to be solar powered and reserved only for them. It was when the spies and returnees reported on the true state of Zandan’s progress that the families realized they’d been fobbed off with toys and gizmos. Their fury and greed combined sufficiently for the first time for them to start a massive shipbuilding effort. As in everything else related to the barbarians, the Elders of Zandan were oblivious to all this activity on the other islands.
Even when the occasional message made it through to the Council it was dismissed as ridiculous. “The numbskulls couldn’t even get it together to cross Mother Ocean, let alone land on our sacred shores!” Unava had summed it up to some patronizing laughter from the council members, before they’d moved along to another matter. All this I picked up from the discussion underway and I could help but notice Unava’s embarrassment at discovering he was so wrong. An invasion was the last thing any of them had considered possible.
I am a Watcher Angel and my name is Georgia.
