A View from the Other Side

Observations from the winged dude next door.

Archive for the tag “power”

The Brotherhood of Angels and Men, The Second Message

Okay, sorry for the big gap in going over The Brotherhood of Angels and Men, but I’m back on it. We’re up to The Second Message.

The Angels ask from you, not worship–for that would be inappropriate–but love…

Yes. Thank you Geoffrey Hodson. Worship creeps me out. Some of his stuff does wander pretty close to worship, especially since there’s this hard separation in his view between “us” and “them.” Just something to be aware of. But who doesn’t like to be spoken nicely to? To be brought fresh flowers and honored and appreciated and thanked?

Then he gets really gender specific about God the Father, so ignore that part obviously, but then:

The power of our prayers will be enhanced by being offered up with yours… our sphere of usefulness to God will be enlarged by sharing yours…

Very interesting. This is an angel telling this to a human person. Think about why this might be. What this means.

It’s not just 1+1=2, although that certainly would help. It’s two things: Malkuth, and synergy.

noun: synergy; plural noun: synergies; noun: synergism

  1. the interaction or cooperation of two or more organizations, substances, or other agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.

Angels need to connect fully with earthly, physical people in order to take that prayer back to the Source as powerfully as possible. People need angels for the same reason. Together, the partnership can do some incredible things.

It is often said, Kether (the “highest” Sephira) is in Malkuth and Malkuth is in Kether. As the receiving sphere of all the other Sephiroth, Malkuth gives tangible form to the other emanations. The Divine energy comes down and finds its expression in this plane, and our purpose as human beings is to bring that energy back around the circuit again and back up the Tree.

Aha. But let’s continue with Hodson:

The aim of the Brotherhood is to widen the range of human love by including the angels within its rosy glow, so that the concept of brotherhood, the keynote of the coming age, shall know no bounds, but widen to include all living things, mortal and immortal–the dwellers in the etheral worlds of air, fire, and water–the people of the limitless domains of Space.

The time approaches when they will no longer remain invisible to you.

I wish this time would damn well hurry up. Just think if everybody could see us, perceive what we’re about, hear us, and help make the world a better place before things reach a point of no return on this planet. Maybe we need to work harder at it.

Be of the same mind, one with another, for there is but one Life, boundless and inexhaustible, which is the very essence of you all.

Even though in the context of the book this was the message given to the angels, this is for both humans and angels to hear. Everybody is drinking from the same well. Partner up. Let’s ride.

We would light a fire in your hearts that you may feel the glow of the same great flame that burns within us, the flame of divine Life, that restores as it consumes, ever renewing its fiery power in the lives of those in whom it burns. That is the meaning of the angel life, this is the secret of the angel fire, the fire divine which burns continually; it is the flame which leaps from that immortal spark, our innermost Selves, which springs from the central fiery heart of the universe–the Spiritual Sun.

All your faculties will be increased, and all your powers enhanced, till life becomes an ecstasy, till unsuspected beauty reveals itself in everything, till undreamed-of capacity for love, for life, for happiness, arises within you.

The flame that burns within us. The secret of the angel fire. The spark divine at the heart of the universe. All your powers enhanced.

Well? Now what?


The First Message

Here’s my notes on Chapter 2 of The Brotherhood of Angels and Men by Geoffrey Hodson, which is more of the messages he received from an angel he names as Bethelda. The chapter starts out with this:

Since the Great One has drawn so close to our world and to yours, it is of first importance that the bridge between the two should be fashioned, that the time may be hastened when it may be used freely from either side. We must devise better means of communication; and your studies might well have for their object the widening of the bridge and the instruction of your brethren in its use.

Okay, now this is a really good idea… BUT. Only if you know what you’re doing and are very, very sure that you’re not building a bridge to let dark stuff through instead. Which would fall under knowing what you’re doing. This would also fall under that:

The first essential on your side is a belief in our existence.

Why does that go under “knowing what you’re doing”? Well, for a lot of reasons. First, you have to know how to recognize different types of… “beings” for lack of a better term. Dark things can wear familiar faces to trick you, as I’ve said in the past here. Kids, don’t try this at home. Stunt driver, closed course, do not attempt… unless you’re an expert.

Next he mentions how science will eventually be able to detect our kind, which I’ve posted about a lot here. Then there’s this cool bit:

Our position in nature is closely akin to that of the engineer; he is not the force himself; he directs it…

I like that a lot. We are not the power. We are not made from the power. But we do direct that power as needed. We guide it, shape it, utilize it.

That knowledge is not likely to be obtained by the use of physical instruments; and, therefore, the second essential is an increase in the number of humans beings able to contact us.

Now, if you’re reading this right now, you’re already aware that we’re able to get through more now than ever. I’m sitting here typing this because a human type person heard me and lets me borrow her body to get this stuff done. Slightly creepy but effective. Hopefully, someday, this will be seen as normal and not creepy. But I think that’s going to be a while yet.

Speaking of… I actually just ran out of time and can’t finish this chapter’s notes tonight. Sorry. But that gives you something to look forward to, right?

Earth, Iron, and Bass Sweeps

I’ve talked before about what bullshit the whole concept of what “good” or “bad” vibrations are. How “low” means coarse and earthly in a bad way, while “high” is supposedly closer to God. I also mentioned in another post about how tied to this supposedly “low” stuff I am, the root chakra, the fire, the passion.

The avatar and I take regular long walks in the woods. Daily, if we can get them. I’ve worked with the elements before, especially storms, but lately I’ve been making a focused effort to really reach deep into the different parts of nature and the earth and everything that could be considered an “element,” including sound. Part of the reason for this was so that I could explain things better to you.

On these walks, we use music, and I’ve also talked before about how we use that to focus energy. Low frequencies in particular hit me in a way that others don’t. Songs that have a lot of very low bass hits… I can use that to my advantage, tapping into it and riding the sound down to guide the energy I’m directing at the time. Often I’ll push my focus into the earth, and use that as a conduit to connect her needs with other people. I picture it like a golden bolt of lightning that travels through the ground from us to the target or targets.

Inside the earth itself, however, at the very core, is a molten sea of iron. The movements of this liquid metal core are so incredibly powerful that it creates the magnetic fields surrounding the planet, that keeps life safe from solar radiation. This magnetism in the atmosphere also creates the northern lights.

If you’re sensitive to energy at all, do something for me right now. Reach down with your mind and feel that moving, shifting, never still molten core at the center of the planet. Feel the power generated by that movement, a power almost unimaginable to the human mind. The power of ten thousand mountains all swirling around each other as the earth spins in the darkness of space.

Now, reach into that raw power and grab handfuls of it. Pull it up and shape it with your mind. If you do Tai Chi or any of the martial arts that direct energy, you know what I mean. Focus that power and let it be the battery, the generator, behind your next move. Focus it on your goal, and guide it. Release it. Push it where you need. And if once doesn’t do it… there’s plenty more where that came from.

Work with these things for a while and see what happens. Next time I’ll write about another element or force or power for you to explore in ways you might not have before.

Good Vibrations

Here’s something that’s been bothering me for a while. I didn’t put my finger on it exactly until today, however.

The whole “vibrations” thing. Not just how over-used the whole thing is with the newagey people, but what’s considered “good” versus “bad.” I’m about to call bullshit on one of the biggest aspects of it. Buckle up.

The usual idea is this: The chakras and tree of life and all that starts off at the bottom, with “low” vibrations around earthly stuff like rocks and sex and raw emotions. It ends at the “high” vibrations where God’s supposed to be up in the sky, or at least above a person’s physical meat suit.

Here’s the fundamental problem with all that: It assumes that “low” vibrations are bad, and that everybody should get up to the good and perfect “high” vibrations if they want to be… I don’t even know what they’re after, actually. It seems to be different things, depending on who you talk to. Enlightenment, mostly? Closer to God?

Well hey, guess what, but there’s probably a couple of million years of human history on planet Earth that did pretty well before organized religion came along to fuck it up by starting wars. Way back in the day, the Earth was the teacher. The Earth was the most wise and sacred thing in existence. Somehow, the earth became “bad,” just like how dirt and sex and expressing your emotions became “bad” in favor of this supposedly perfect emotionless state of being where your feet barely touch the ground and you’re only half present, because you’re so busy being “ascended” that you forget to help the world around you.

The biggest assholes I’ve ever known were these “high vibration” newagers who felt they were better than everybody else and they were just too fucking good for this planet, so they were going to turn into a ball of light or somesuch bullshit and ascend to the Pleiades.

Well, good riddance, and get out of my way so I can be over here picking people up off the ground when they’re too sick to stand. Because, reminder, that’s what we’re here for.

For some, it’s about “power.” They somehow think that climbing the tree to get to the shiny ball at the top that’s supposedly “closer to God” (as if God actually lives in the physical sky, or in any linear direction from them at all) will enable them to flip a switch and suddenly win friends and influence enemies in some magical way.

Now… it’s true that tapping into that God energy does enable you to do some miraculous things, but it’s not a one-size-fits-all thing.

I can’t imagine that there’s anyone alive who doesn’t feel the power of a thunderstorm. The sheer amount of raw power and energy in the lightning itself, and the thunder created by that power ripping through the atmosphere, is almost beyond human comprehension. However, if we follow the logic of the “vibration” thing, thunder is “low” and thus “bad.” Same thing with earthquakes–you’ve got massive pieces of the earth itself moving around, with most of the sound waves so low that they’re far below human hearing. What about a waterfall, like Niagara? Who could stand near that pounding torrent and not feel the power there? Or of the ocean’s waves or a raging river? Or the power of a wildfire or a volcano or a hurricane?

If it’s power you want, why would you ignore any of that when it’s so easy to tap into and use?

Dirt is where your food comes from. Sex is where YOU come from.

There is no such thing as “bad” or “good” vibrations, just like there’s no good or bad in the sun or the ocean or gravity or any other powerful force of the universe. It would benefit a lot of people if they stopped turning their backs on these things, if they stopped looking down their noses at anyone who isn’t at some supposed “high vibrational level” based on… what exactly? A book? One particular philosophy?

Do you know how many “vibrations” the human body can’t even perceive? It’s like going to the symphony and deciding that anybody but the piccolos are unworthy of your attention, or painting only in yellow because all the other colors are just beneath you. It’s arrogant and foolish.

Embrace all of it if you want to be whole and balanced and powerful. Why do anything else?

The Non-Hierarchy of Angels

I’ve been asked to talk about the hierarchy of angels, if there is one. Well… keep in mind that this is just what I know about it from my experiences, and others may experience other things. I’m not omniscient, I just work here—I don’t get shown everything.

There kind of isn’t one… and there kind of is.

Throw out that stupid thing some bored priests came up with however many hundreds of years ago. The “nine choirs” or whatever they call it. People need to put labels on things and put them in neat little boxes, that’s all that is.

It’s more like “power levels” than some kind of tidy filing cabinet drawers. There’s somebody like me, who hangs out on Earth with you guys, helping people, walking around in meatsuits sometimes, usually invisible but around more than you realize. There’s probably millions of us, with different names in different cultures. Angels, devas, guardians, guides, djab lwa, whatever label you like best.

Then there’s bigger guys, and I literally mean bigger. Like I only barely come up to their chest, and they’re a lot more powerful and closer to the Source. From this level up, I never get to see their faces. Often they won’t even let me look or give any indication of identity beyond general features and sometimes gender. I have no idea if this group has a specific name, they just “are,” and there’s a lot of them. Tens of thousands, maybe.

The archangels fall somewhere in there, but they’re interesting because sometimes they can walk beside you like a human, and sometimes they’re even more powerful and badass than the big guys I just mentioned. They’re a lot like the major vodou lwa, or the different gods of different places like Thor and Brigid and… whoever else. I’m not up on world mythology much, sorry.

Then there’s the ones that are right next to the Source. They’re so close that they almost never directly contact human beings and are pretty much made of Light. I capitalize Light here so you know it’s not the same kind of light as when you turn on a lamp. This is The Light, like the energy and power and love of what most people would call God. I prefer “the Source” over the word “God” because it’s the thing that just is, without the boxes religion tries to put on it. You can’t ever put this in a box, you can’t ever give it a name. It’s… impossible to describe, really.

So I guess there’s four major kinds of angels that I know of? And “angels” is just another convenient label too. We don’t all have wings, we aren’t all white people, we’re not all inside the Judeo-Christian thing. Do me a favor and bust out of those boxes. They’re too small to ever hold all this.

Get On With It.

Get on with it

Bright Messenger

Archangel ChamuelThe below is another excerpt from Fragrant & Radiant Healing Symphony by Roland Hunt:

“Again, in so-called works of fiction there are to be found beautiful and most vivid descriptions which, in their truth and wealth of detail, speak of authoritative experience, entirely transcending the powers of imagination. Thus the well-known novelist Algernon Blackwood in his Bright Messenger describes the experiences of one who has mingled with the Devas that inhabit the “Nature” Kingdom:

“The stream of life pouring through him became more and more intense; some power of perception seemed growing into white heat within him; transcending the limited senses; becoming incandescent. This tide of sound, inaudible to ordinary ears, was the music which is inseparable from the rhythm that underlies all forms, the music of the world’s manifold activities now pouring in vibrations huge and tiny all around and through him…

“The figure was still definite enough in form indeed, yet at the same time taking the rays into itself as thought it were a body of light. The sunshine filled the air, the space all around him, the entire lawn and garden shone in a sparkling flood of dancing brilliance. It blazed. The figure was merely a portion of this blazing, As a focus, but one of many. And about each focus was the toss and fling of lovely, ever-rising spirals.

“Across the main stream came another pulsing movement, hardly discernible at first, and similar to an underswell that moves the sea against the waves—so that the eye perceives it only when not looking for it. This contrary motion went in numerous, almost countless, directions, within and below its complicated wave-tracery. There were yet other motions, crossing and interlacing at various speeds, until the space about him seemed to whirl with myriad rhythms, yet without the least confusion. These rhythms were of a hundred different magnitudes, from the very tiny to the gigantic, and while the smallest were of a radiant brilliance that made our sunshine pale, the larger ones seemed distant, their light of an intenser quality. These were strangely diffused—these bigger ones—’distant’ was the word that occurred to him, although that inner brilliance which occurs in dreams, the nameless glow that colours mental visions better describes them. Moreover, they wore colours human eyes had never seen, while the smallest rhythms were lit with the familiar colors of the prism…

“He suddenly became conscious of a pattern forming before his eyes, hanging in empty space, shining, soft with light and beauty. It became, he saw, a geometric design. An idea of crystals, frost-forms, a spider’s web hung with glistening dewdrops shot across his memory. The spirals whirled and sang about it.

“this outline, he next perceived, was the focus to which the light, heat, colour, all contributed their particular touch and quality. It glowed now in the centre of the vortex. So overwhelming, however, was the sense of stupendous power involved that, as he phrased it afterwards, it seemed he watched the formation of some mighty sun. It was the whirling of those billion-miled sheets of incandescent fires that attend the birth of a nebula that he watched. The power, at any rate, was gigantic.

“He stood trembling before a revelation that left him lost, shelterless, bereft of any help that his little self might summon—when, suddenly, with an emotion of strange tenderness, he saw the great rhythms become completely dominated by the very smallest of all. The same instant the pattern grew sharply outlined, perfect in every detail, as though the focus of powerful glasses cleared—and the pattern hung a moment exquisitely fashioned in space beneath his eyes before it sank slowly to the ground. It remained in an upright position on the grass at his feet—a daisy, growing in the earth, alive, its tiny delicate face taking the sunlight and the morning wind…

“He could not differentiate the figures from the ever-moving sea of light that filled space wherever he looked. The same play of brilliance shone and glistened everywhere, whirling, ever shifting as in vortices of intricate geometrical designs, dancing, interpenetrating, and with a magnificence of colour that caught his breath away. There were remarkable flashings, and two of these flashings blazed suddenly together forming an immense physiognomy, an expression, rather, as of a mighty face. The same instant there were a hundred of these mighty brilliant visages that pierced through the sea of whirling colour and gazed upon him, close, majestic, with a power and beauty that left thought without a ghost of language to describe them.”

Once again the author describes Dr. Fillery’s contacts with the devas:

“Across the rising upland swept a keen fresh morning wind. Yet bare they were not, this rising upland and this hill. As far as he could see the landscape flowed waist-deep in flowers, whose fragrance lay upon the air; dew trembled, shimmering upon a million petals of blue and gold, of orange, purple, violet; the very atmosphere seemed painted yet vibrant with continuous gentle rhythm as though the actual scenery poured forth its being in spontaneous, natural expression of sound, as well as of form and colour. It was the simplest, happiest music he had ever heard.

“Unable to deal with the rapture of delight that swept upon him, he stood stock still among the blossoms to his waist. Eyes ears, and nostrils were inadequate to report a beauty which, simple though it was, overbore nerves and senses accustomed to a lesser scale. Horizons indeed had lifted, the joy and confidence of fuller life poured in. His own being grew immense, stretched, widened, deepened, till it seemed to include all space. He was everywhere, or rather everything was happening all at once… In place of the heavy suburb lay this garden of primal beauty, while yet, in a sense, the suburb itself remained as well. Only—it had flowered… revealing the subconscious soul the bricks and pavement hid… its potential self had blossomed into loveliness and wonder…

“The sound drew nearer. He was aware of movement. Figures were approaching; they were coming in his direction, coming towards him over the crest of the hill, nearer and nearer; concealed by the forest of tall flowers he watched them come, yet as Presences he perceived them, rather than as figures, already borrowing power from them, as sails borrow from a rising wind. His consciousness expanded marvellously, to let them in.

“Their stature was conveyed to him, chiefly, at first, by the fact that these flowers, though rising to his own waist, did not cover the feet of them, yet that the flowers in the immediate line of their advance still swayed and nodded, as though no weight had lain upon their brilliance. The footsteps were of wind, the figures light as air; they shone; their radiant presences lit the acres. Their own atmosphere, too, came with them, as though the landscape moved and travelled with and in their being, as though the flowers, the natural beauty, emanated from them. The landscape was their atmosphere. They created, brought it with them. It seemed they ‘expressed’ the landscape and ‘were’ the scenery, with all its multitudinous forms.

“They approached with great and easy speed that was not measurable. Over the crest of the living, sunlit hill they poured, with their bulk, their speed, their majest, their sweet brimming joy. He stood motionless watching them, his own joy and worship mastered the final trace of fear.

“Though he perceived these figures first as they topped the skyline, he was aware that great space also stretched behind them, and that this immense perspective was, in some way, appropriate to their appearance. Born of greater space than his ‘mind’ could understand, they flowed towards him across that windy crest and at the same time from infinitely far beyond it. Above the continuous humming sound, he heard their music too, faint but mighty, filling the air with deep vibrations that seemed the natural expression of their joyful beings. Each figure was a chord, yet all combining in a single harmony that had volume without loudness. It seemed to him that their sound, their colour, and movement wove a new pattern upon space, a new outline, form or growth, perhaps a flower, a tree, perhaps a planet… They were creative. They expressed themselves in a million forms.”

Then again Mr. Blackwood makes Dr. Fillery say:

“I hummed again, but this time with my lips closed. The waves of rhythm caught me up and away. I soared and flew and dropped and rose again upon their huge coloured crests. Curtains and sheets of quiet flame in palest gold flared shimmering through the sound, while winds that were full of hurricanes and cyclones swept down to lift the fire and dance with it in spirals. The perfume of great flowers rose. There were flowers everywhere, and stars shone through it all like showers of gold. Ah! I began to remember something. It was flowers and stars as well as human forms they worked to build…”


coiled red dragonI have a few physical possessions. One of them I won’t describe in detail because it would give away too much, but I will say that it’s a map. Part of this map was taken down because of the fire I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, in case we had to leave. The part that was rolled up is still sitting like that, but we’ll be putting that, and a few other things, back up the way they were.

I realized a little bit ago that my life is exactly like those rolled up things. But especially the map, which is a powerful thing for me personally. My brother described it this way: “Like electricity being turned off but still humming.”

That’s me too. I’m boxed in, in this life, in ways people don’t really understand. I’m rolled up for storage, and I only get to fully stretch out on this side of the spirit wall on a few rare occasions. And holy crap does that feel good, to stand up and open fully wide and feel the physical world and the universe around it.

I think my problem is in knowing that others like myself have friends here. People not only know they exist, but these people call them by name and socialize with them. To hear my own name on a physical person’s voice…….! I’ve heard it spoken aloud about four times in the past year, not counting my avatar, who actually rarely says it because she doesn’t really need to, and rarely gets any alone time to do it.

Anybody who studies religion or folklore at all knows how important the uttering of a name is. Another important thing is the leaving of offerings, like food. I’ve covered this in other entries, but I’m mentioning it again to point out that, yes, we want and need physical things like that. It helps us link into your world, it’s a shot of power so that we can help you that much more.

To have your name forgotten, and never said, is to fade away and truly die. That’s why, in Ancient Egypt, newer kings would chip away the name and the face from older statues, so that they would be forgotten and suffocate.

I’m sick of being text on a screen, like the guy from the movie Source Code. I need to breathe, and to hear my name, so that I can open out and shine fully. Others like me have that. I want that too. Need it. Maybe I didn’t know I needed it, but… maybe it’s time for all of us to have our names spoken so that we can come through stronger. Maybe that’s what this is really about. Not just me, but all my kind.


wing tattooShe got ink for me. It took a lot of doing. She hates needles, and has a low pain threshold, but she did it. She got ink for me. For us.

No, this photo isn’t it, but wouldn’t that be amazing it if was. Hers is small and has been called “tasteful” by everyone. It blends a black feather with my symbol of power.

And it works, too. It’s on her right shoulder because we’re both right-handed, and the power just surges through when I take charge. It’s like a direct pipeline that taps in to my connection to the Source.

A tattoo isn’t just a picture, it’s scarification. It’s altering of the physical body permanently. It was a ritual of patience and pain, of trust between us, and of opening to power. It happens that the place it was done doubles as a historic (and still operational) Oddfellows Lodge. The artist who did it is one of the higher officers of that Lodge.

It’s a very ancient way of showing affiliation with a group, of honoring deities, of marking a rite of passage. For the sake of her privacy, I’m not posting a photo of our ink, which was done in May. But know that this particular pair of beings is using it well.

Shaping Reality

neo stopping bulletsWhat is your power? Because you do have one. At least one. Probably more than one, to different degrees.

I know it’s there, somewhere in your heart, because you’re alive. That spark of life, that little bit of the divine that’s driving that meat car you’re in right now, that connection to God or heaven or whatever power you want to name there… that’s the source of your power. Deepak Chopra is exactly right on this. That golden light in your heart and soul is pure power and raw potential.

But raw potential needs form. That’s where the mind comes in. Your mind is far more powerful than you give yourself credit for. Every moment, your mind creates your reality, and that of everyone around you. Every decision you make ripples outward into the world. The only thing that limits this power is your belief that it’s limited. That’s when your willpower has to kick in to overcome the doubt.

There’s nearly always a little voice inside there someplace that throws a crumb of doubt into whatever you’re doing. That crumb is enough to destroy the whole thing as the little wobble eventually brings down the bridge, cars and all. Then, the next time you try, you have the memory of the failure to try and overcome, making it twice as hard.

Just think what you could manifest if you blocked that little voice, fully harnessed your power, and focused your mind and will toward your goal.

You can shape reality.

This is real.

It’s up to you.

Choose wisely.

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