“E.T. Supernatural” – A Love Story??

In one of Project Camelot’s ‘inside scoops’ with an undercover contact named ‘Charles’  he states cryptically that ‘Women are the Key.’

Of course women are the key;  but they are also the ‘lock’.  As Maman Lezarde would say: “Women have the equipment – A woman is the gateway between the worlds.”

There are more single, free, financially independent women in North America than anywhere else on the planet.  The divorce rate is sky-high.  Where is all that Shakti going??   Many of these women, far more than men, are also fully engaged on their spiritual path.  Many of these women, myself included, at one point or another have had their energy hooked into the energy field of a male guru.  Past a certain point, this is not a good thing, no matter how hot, how wise, how magickal,  the guru.  At the end of the day, he is just a man.  You can’t find the love of God in the shape of a man, no matter how great your projection.  The sharper women eventually wake up, and reclaim their energy, but not usually without a bit of a psychic battle.  Let’s face it, a juicy woman is a juicy woman!  It’s not unlike the ‘cutting of the cord ceremony’ to unhook from an ex-lover.  This is familiar territory to most ‘Sex and the City’ women of my generation.  This is not what I wish to write about today.

Today, I write about the shady territory between the intense desire and longing for divine other and tantric connection – and what can happen when you think it is your divine beloved guru making holy kundalini love to you in the middle of the night.  I’m not saying it doesn’t happen – it most certainly does…  but that really is another story, best left to another day…   But Someone Else wants the Goddess… Wants the Divine Shakti of Gaia in All Her Myriad Forms…  And it isn’t Uncle Sam.  Remember, it’s all fun and games – until someone loses an ovary; or an empire.   Like each woman on the planet today, the High Priestess of Atalan is both the lock and the key:

CHAPTER 4  –   ‘ASCENSION: The FireFlower’

An expert dreamer, the High Priestess of Atalan traveled the worlds beyond sleep, tracking the one who had disturbed her solitude. Pulled inexorably forward, the mysterious light remained
just beyond reach. Each time it allowed her a little closer, and each morning Lelia could not wait to return to the place it had left her the night before. Weeks passed, yet the stranger’s cold light shed no warmth.

What did it want…?

The High Priestess’ daylight hours consumed with thoughts of the mysterious presence, she began a secret inquiry into the truth of its possible nature. Every spare moment found the priestess bent over the sacred scrolls, scouring them for clues. Perhaps it was lost, a lost soul
wandering between the worlds of the living and the dead.

Lelia had already tried sending it back to Source, but without success. Relentless, it appeared each night the moment she arrived at the frequency thresholds on the edge of the consciousnesses of Earth.  Still, it gave her nothing.

“What do you want of me?” the High Priestess screamed at last, drained of all psychic reserve. She was tired of the chase, a game it played according to unknown rules.

“Divine Beloved, do you not recognize me?”

22 Ascension:

Lelia was stunned.  ‘Beloved??’ Spoken clearly, she had clearly heard it…  It had called her ‘Beloved’!

“It is not for me to meet my Divine Beloved, until I drop my body and pass on to the Higher Realms…” Lelia answered, as if by rote.
The Light blazed before her and asked her again:
“Divine Beloved, do you not recognize me?”
What impudence!
Guarded, the High Priestess answered: “My Beloved is Beyond, I can partner with no other.”
Angered at the perpetual torment, Lelia abandoned the seductive light, and fled, back to the weight and safety of the body corporeal. How dare it toy with her in this way! Spoken clearly, she had clearly heard it…
‘Beloved’… What could it -‘he’- possibly mean…?
The question reverberated to the core of her being. If he was the one long promised to her, why was he not embodied in the world, as she was?
Why had he left her alone, to suffer her solitude?
The sacred texts explained:
‘The purpose of twin flame union higher than the purposes of Earth, such a union anchors the energies of Divine Love throughout the worlds of multidimensional creation. It is standard practice for one soul to incarnate in earthly lifetimes, the other serving as a lifeline to the higher
realms, lest the incarnate soul become lost in the densities of a lower world. Bound through time and space in sacred soul marriage not of the flesh, true twin flames are not meant to unite in the traditional, earthly sense.’
Or so the Sacred Texts were written.
The pain of finding her potential beloved was thus far worse than the original sorrow of soul separation, and the loneliness with which she was so well acquainted, combined. For days, Lelia did not sleep. Then it was exhaustion, not death, that claimed her, and there he was again, relentless, waiting, wanting…
“Divine Beloved, do you not recognize me?”
Of course she recognized him.
The old familiar ache. She could not forget what it was all for…  Because of him, she had taken the leap from the realms of pure light into the experiment of physical creation. He had been lost, and now he was found. The one to whom she still belonged, beyond all space and all time… Lelia
struggled, against her greatest, most forbidden desire.

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“It – is – not – time!” thundered the voice of conscience from the Planes of Ascension far beyond the Other Side. In a blaze of purple fire, the High Priestess of Atalan the Elder shimmered before her.

“It is not time!” the Elder commanded again. “Have you forgotten your oath? It is not for you to meet your Twin Flame, until you drop your body and pass on to the Higher Realms!”
It was she, the venerable one who had first warned her, when she first took responsibility for the holy fire within. “Do not abandon your soul agreement! You are not meant to meet your Divine Beloved, until your work on Earth is done! I beg you…!” But the holy woman’s admonition was cold comfort. Lelia was weakening… The Elder’s plea had come too late. Undeniable, Lelia felt it then, the clean, pure call of the other half of her soul…
“Beloved, we are already joined and know each other well…”
Lelia fled the encounter, plummeting through the dimensions, fleeing sleep, fleeing him, back to the agony of the body.
It would have been so easy to let go… Go with him. Stay with him. But no… She did not want to die… yet…
Returned to her bedchamber, limbs shaking from the power of their meeting, Lelia roused herself and walked out into the moonlit garden. He could not follow her here. Earth was not his world.
Her heart pounding in an unfamiliar way, Lelia calmed herself with the sight of the spires of Atalan in the valley below. Oceanside, the diamond-city glittered. And overlooking the vista, the Crystal Pyramid shone bright with moonlight. Home. She was returned to it.
She could not allow him to find her again, not ‘til death claimed her. Lelia stood quietly, her hands clinging to the balustrade overlooking the shining city, when an unnaturally icy mist blew in and wrapped itself around her like a shroud.
“Why wait for Death?” the wraith whispered, into her ear. “Why wait for the higher realms… When a higher realm… Can come to you?”
Lelia gasped.
“Tell me, my love…”
It was not possible.
“Have you remembered?”
Her training as High Priestess had not prepared her for this.
His love stronger than death, older than life itself, his power enfolded her rom the Beyond. Starved for the love of her own kind, Lelia could not resist him…

24 Ascension:

Did not want to…
“Do you accept my breath, my kiss of fire?” he asked, his light entwined about her.
Witnessed by Angels of the Most High, and sealed by the stars, the ancient embrace enfolded her… Overcome with a passion so blissfully intense it was beyond physicality, the High Priestess did not question it. The memory of their love had been enough to sustain her over the eons, from the moment the entwined, twinned flames of their conjoined soul had parted.
And now she knew why he had been forbidden to her, while still a woman of flesh and bone. Lelia felt the silver cord stretch and tighten, the cord which tethered her Ka, her body of light, to the realm of Earth, to a body weighted with centuries of waiting. For what, for death, the final illumination, she let the silver cord stretch taut, almost to the breaking point…
The sacred heat from the soul fire of her twin of flame was irresistible; there was no more need to wait, nothing more to wait for… Consumed, then, in the embrace of a cosmic blaze, all her need was met… The moment had come… His cold heat was her demise, his icy breath, her heaven.
Death was her Divine Other and she, his consort. With a sharp and startled cry, the High Priestess fell to the ground. Bewildered, the fallen priestess struggled to raise herself up. The heady perfume of fireflowers crushed against her skin, the night-garden was heavy with the damp of dew, black earth, and musk. Mystery of mysteries, the beguiling heat was gone.
It was just the heady scent of fireflowers in bloom, making her dream of what she most wanted, but could not have. Passion moon already set, in the darkness of the deserted garden, she was alone. Bereft, the words of the Elder Priestess of Atalan returned to haunt her once more: ‘It is not for you to meet your Twin Flame…’

In the silence of the empty garden, Lelia’s heart broke with loneliness.

The days that followed were the emptiest of all. Yet in public, the High Priestess was serene. Covered in jewels and adulation, she went about her duties. But what she now suffered was worse than the isolation of great secrets unshared. She wanted her Divine Beloved. She craved him in the flesh, his body pressed to hers. The tortured memory of a fire kiss would not sustain
her. All she had of him was a thought, a memory, destined to fade. Nights passed without a return visitation from her celestial love.
In her private chambers, Lelia was listless, weak. Her life reduced to mere existence, save for the quiet footfall of faithful servants, her ivory

The FireFlower 25
palace was largely empty of guests. She did not know if that night she would have the stomach or the strength to entertain yet another king, come to pay homage to the Goddess and receive the blessing of her bed.
Ritual bath yet to be readied, Lelia had little time to prepare for the visiting king. He had traveled so far to see her. As High Priestess, Lelia lit the candles on her bedside altar, and draped herself in sheer layers of scarlet silk. By rote she recited a tantric incantation from the rites as practiced by the Ancients. Aromatic essential oils and aphrodisiacs awaited selection.
With a heartfelt sigh, she hoped this man of earthly power would be stronger than the last one, who had collapsed at her feet.
The King entered her chambers. As beautiful as an avenging angel, it was clear: he was a true descendant of those who from heaven to earth had come. A welcome if temporary distraction, Lelia was surprised at how pleasing she found his appearance; divinely sculpted as he was in
the image of the gods.
Thick dark curls instead of a crown and features kissed with the elegant beauty of the stars, this one in particular resembled the stone portraits left behind by the star travelers in monuments to themselves. Aphrodisiacs stirring their blood, it made the encounter more a pleasure
and less a duty performed in honor of the divinities of carnal love…
Light from the newly risen honeyed moon spilled across the silken sheets, highlighting the chiseled muscles of the man who lay sprawled and exhausted beside her. The High Priestess cradled the sleeping King in her arms.
In an hour or two, he would wake, and they would continue, as they had for hours before. He slept now, and she listened, as the rhythm of his breathing changed, deepened. Her King would sleep but she would not, her mind overtaken with thoughts of the unattainable being she had so
fatefully encountered.
It was unthinkable that her twin flame, her divine beloved – who had at last found her – had again abandoned her. Unfathomable punishment for one as divinely faithful as she, for Lelia had given no one else her heart.
Consolation prize of a god in progress lying unconscious in her arms, the pain of separation from her twin had worn down her resolve. Lelia began to plan her own untimely death.
“Divine Beloved, do you not desire me?”
Death by poison or death by a fall, the High Priestess started from her reverie… The King had spoken, while yet he slept.
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“Divine Bride, your Bridegroom awaits.”
What manner of abomination was this? The King spoke; yet it was not the King.
“Beloved, do you not recognize me?”
Too surprised to recoil, Lelia was speechless.
“I found you in the astral garden, just the other night. Do you not recall the touch of my fingers, my kiss of fire along your spine…?”
His eyes still closed, the King’s hand moved towards her, yet it was not the King.
“Have you forgotten me already? “
Fingers light upon the smooth skin of her inner thigh, the stranger spoke again, his voice the caress she’d waited upon for centuries.
“I gave you a garland, of fragrant fireflower blossoms…
Lelia had no doubt; for her, he had left the Heart of Heaven. For the first time, she said his name:
The King’s eyes wide shut, Arakiel grasped her face filled with hope in his hands.
She was mistaken, this High Priestess. It was not he who had come from on high in search of his Divine Beloved, but she who had left Heaven’s Heart ages ago to find him. Her lost twin, his once bright pranic flame tarnished by the rigors of the densities of creation, it was a miracle she recognized him at all.
True, he had not yet incarnated on Earth, the world on which Lelia now found herself. Trapped as he was, forgotten by the one true God who had made them, and stamped both their souls to the eternal damnation of fractured union. But this was about to change… He had found her. Her face in his hands, she was in his thrall…
The High Priestess gave no protest. Her Divine Beloved had taken possession of the King’s body, and she did not care. He had come, at last, to save her from her misery, and rescue them all. His angelic presence a force that occupied her mind, she knew that she was his, as she had always been.
“Why?” Lelia pleaded, engulfed with desperate desire.
“Can you not guess? To rule at your side. To save Atalan, as one greater than the kings and princes of this world… To rule over aspiring gods and men of earthly power, and command the allegiance of lesser beings. Together we will raise the multitudes of humanity, the masses of teeming earthlings
The FireFlower 27
beyond the borders of Atalan, to a new standard of civilization and hope.”
Enthralled, Lelia was overcome. She would do anything, without hesitation, if it meant he would stay with her. And he had not even had to ask. Just as in days of old, she had anticipated his need, and met it, without question. Inwardly, Arakiel smiled. For what came next, he could not accomplish without the High Priestess’ willing participation.
Her face held in his hands, Arakiel inhaled her breath with his kiss, filling her with his indomitable spirit. In, out, in, out, she felt the fire rise in her spine and he was not even inside her yet. Then, the poor King’s breath rattled out of him. His body shook, as his spirit left the earth-plane, and Arakiel’s inner flame took hold. With fierce power, the King’s eyes flew
open, blazing with Arakiel’s light, the intense light she recognized, remembered so well from their days outside the bounds of time.
“The mortal is gone… I am now your King, as I ever was,” Arakiel said.
Lelia’s heart in his hands, Arakiel set siege to her flesh. For the first time in her life, Lelia was not the teacher, the healer, or the High Priestess, but a woman, taken, in more than one dimension. Caught in a vortex of sexual energy beyond her control, the High Priestess lost herself in
Arakiel’s inferno. And in so doing, Lelia turned her face from the Sun.

For Arakiel had not come to save Atalan, but to conquer it, and enslave the People of One. Their coupling had kindled a passion-fire clearly visible to those still trapped in the Great Below. But the flame was extinguished too early for them to follow its suspect light out from the Abyss…

A descendant of the old gods, the true King of Atalan was not about to give up his body without a fight. With valiant courage, he fought back from the other side and expelled Arakiel to the ethers. The true King of Atalan then returned to his physical senses with no memory of what had
transpired, only to find the High Priestess weeping inconsolably at his side.
The king, being a man like all others, believed the High Priestess’ tears were intended for him.
“My love, my love, you are beloved of the Goddess, you are beloved of the Goddess…,” Lelia clung to the King’s arms for dear life, Arakiel’s last choked words her only comfort:
‘My – love, do not – worry. I will – return – for you. I – promise…’
Such was the beginning of the Fall of Atalan.
Millenia later, the gossamer lineage of the Priestesses of the People of


One continued to sing songs telling of realities beyond the known frameworks of time. Faith unbroken, the last descendants of Atalan awaited the promised Day of Light. The women sang their heartbreak, of their deep longing for the children of the exodus to reunite as kindred, as the People of One – one mind, one body, one soul, one heart. And of the one
promised, who would tie the threads of time:
“She will come. She will come,” the women sang the ancient song, offering beautifully lilting voices of disturbing comfort to the conflicted, convalescing Priest.
“Who will come?” Father Leon muttered, more confounded than before.
Surely, it was not the monstrous Serpent Queen, who had so cruelly spared him his life, of whom they sang? The Christ had come, and gone. How could there be another Messiah, a female – an Emmanuelle??
‘A woman!’ It was too much.
Physically and philosophically marooned, Father Leon found himself in the role of Adam with more than one Eve. Initiated into the ecstasies of fleshly love by a trinity of wives, Leon happily abandoned his cassock.
Besides, the Priestesses of Atalan the once golden, had already burned his clothes.

CopyRight ‘ASCENSION: The FireFlower‘ 2009 Trafford / FireFlower Communications All Rights Reserved /  Author Andrea Hansen www.thefireflower.com

This is my heartfelt  warning to all you women out there to exercise extreme discernment in the ‘kundalini’ connections in which you  – or your daughters –   may become engaged or entraped. Fortunately or unfortunately, this really is my area of expertise.  No matter how ‘evolved’ or skilled a witchy-woman you are,  it is not wise to let your guard down, not even for a moment.  Although, to be clear, in those moments, you can learn a great deal you could not learn otherwise.  By the same token, you can be of divine service in the Ascension process of truly desperate beings who really could not otherwise dimensionally move forward.

But I digress:  in the various types of energy exchanges which can occur, in most of them, the balance of power will be such that you will appear to have none.  Much like the relationship of the abused to the abuser,  victim to victimizer.  It is enough to deal with for an adult woman, let alone those much younger.  I remember myself at 12, 14, 16, 18, 21 and 33…  Still dumb as a rock, and vulnerable as a kitten.  Like most tweens and teens today ‘bitten’ by the ‘ New Moon’ vampire bug, I’m sure I would have liked Katy Perry’s music then as much as I like it now.

BUT …  The other day bopping along in the car,  the lyrics of her latest song hit me like a ton of bricks:


Look around you…  Our entire Western Civilization is obsessed with simultaneously raising and dishonoring Shakti energy, and  keeping  it high, no matter how base the means…  I need not go into detail here.  Could there be a connection between Shakti as fuel, and E.T. technology that goes beyond mere biology??



Baby, I Was Born This Way…

Yesterday…  Monday February 21, 2011…  DAY  11 of the 9th UnderWorld…  

My back hurt & I was filled with a vague ‘irrational’ anxiety…

Yesterday –  65 + people left this plane of reality in a serious earthquake in Christchurch.   Yesterday –  also in New Zealand –  107 doomed whales beached themselves to die in a macabre and deliberate row along the shore.  Yesterday – another X-Class solar flare blasted out of our beloved Sun.  This super-sized wave of super-charged plasma is due to embrace Earth this Thursday / DAY 14,  & Friday /  DAY 15,  of the 9th UnderWorld – but I’m already feeling the Effects.

I don’t think there’s been much of a pause between the Valentine’s X-Class Flare last Monday, which knocked out power and communications in parts of Asia, and had flights re-routed away from the North Pole.   These on top of the several M-class flares we’ve already welcomed over the last few weeks.  So…  I agree with Little Grandmother, that it is probably not a bad idea to lovingly place  our crystals in “wildwater”… 

Yesterday – DAY  11 of the 9th UnderWorld…  With great love and with great sadness –  I  released a small crystal skull which had found me while praying ceremony in the Yucatan to continue his amazing journey…   I kissed him good-bye and set him in the snow,  on the ice,  in the middle of a small frozen lake…  I was sad to leave my dear friend to the cold and the stars, but he is ageless and an age from now someone else will find him, smiling up from the grass, when the lake is gone and replaced with flowers…  Please send him your Blessings.

So, what else can we do?


With Much Mmmmmuch Love  –  From the depths of my heart to each & every ONE of You:



Halfway down the path, the ground bucking in pulsing ripples beneath his feet, Ezekiel realized he’d rather not make a spectacle of himself at the rave. Too late to cough up the zombie cocktail he’d imbibed with such aplomb, he had grossly underestimated the Elixir’s effects. He was losing it. Ezekiel hated to admit it, but his grandmother had been right.

He was a fool.

And if he was going to make it through the night, his best option was to remember everything he’d ever resisted Maman telling him, and everything he’d learned in his lifetime as Father Leon. Ezekiel figured the best way to jog his memory would be to return to the lava tunnels of the People of One, within the volcanic shelter of the Mountains of the Serpent Virgin, at the edge of the Plantation Soleil.

Ezekiel sized up the trail. He planned to emblazon a path through the field of boulders at the base of the Great Fang. ‘When you’ve seen one rock, you’ve seen them all…,’ he slurred, weaving about like a drunken sailor. The moon obscured by sudden cloud, Ezekiel was enveloped with darkness come to life.

The sounds of the bush at night seemed louder than usual. The ground rising up to meet him, Ezekiel high-tailed it as best he could. Then, more a misplaced feeling than a sound, Ezekiel thought he heard something


296 Ascension:

that did not belong. Fear tearing at his throat, Ezekiel hesitated on the path.

Accosted by a real presence, there was no doubt as to the entity’s nefarious intentions. ‘A ghost was pressing on him’, as Maman would say. A very bad ghost pressed down on his hands, his feet, and his neck, an ultra-dimensional force that had attained physicality with the power ofEzekiel’s increased attention.

A winged Dracula intent on keeping its prey from moving, at first Ezekiel couldn’t see it; then was sorry he’d tried. Whatever it was had skin like a fish, white scaly skin smudged with soot… Irresistibly drawn by Ezekiel’s quest for fire, a marauding, disembodied Reptilian was doing its damnedest to rip the young blood’s spirit from his body.

Desperate and lost, the lower fouth dimensional entity needed a soul with which to get through the Ascension Gate. Scared beyond his wits, in danger of hyperventilating, Ezekiel was about to let out a screen-queen scream when a power outside himself took over his lungs…

“Breathe… Breathe!” it commanded, “Let me breathe through you…”

Whatever this new energy was, Ezekiel figured he had nothing to lose by trusting it. He inhaled once deeply through his nose, exhaling sharply… He could almost see plumes of smoke curling from his nostrils… His body surrendered, the overshadowing breath took over.

Ezekiel felt dragon-fire move through him. The power of pure life-force energy coursing through his limbs, a benevolent and powerful being had come to his aid. The attacking Reptilian retreated, shrieking its frustration and disappointment into the constant black of its night.

Newly prone to fits of fainting, Ezekiel struggled to maintain consciousness.

He sank, to the jagged surface of the rock below him – when the rock beneath him moved. Stone turned iridescent silver, Ezekiel picked out the noble line of  a curved spine that tapered into a flanged tail at one end, dappled snout silver in the moonlight at the other.  Eyes of living light bored into Ezekiel’s heart.

This was not Puff the Magic Dragon. This was the dragon of legend, and not a legend at all. He was not dreaming. As in fairy-tales of yore, Ezekiel’s body stretched out as if across the back of a faithful horse, the dragon carried him across the serrated pumice foothills of the Viper’s Fangs, towards the bubbling sulfur springs that dotted the slopes of the extinct volcano. At one of the stinking calderas, the dragon stopped.

For a moment, Ezekiel feared that he was about to be thrown into the


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boiling mud. When he was a boy, he’d hard cooked eggs in them. Dragon waiting patiently, finally, Ezekiel remembered what was required of him. He threw his gold watch into the seething pit, an offering. That much of Maman’s training came back to him in his moment of need. He hoped the Great Mother would accept his paltry gift.

Of late, Ezekiel’s conversation with the Earth Mother had been somewhat one-sided. She was ever-giving, unconditional in Her love, constantly giving him gifts – oxygen, water, life – and asking nothing in return. He in turn took her for granted, demanded constant attention, and always wanted more. Stopped on the high slopes of the Viper’s Fangs, the dragon finally spoke, smoke curling from its toothy jaws:

“So now that She’s been tortured to the point of death, how do you think She’s going to feel when She wakes up from her coma?” Ezekiel felt small. Very, very small. “Even though She’s nearly dead, and humanity with her, by the way – She still loves all of us, no matter what we’ve done. We are all Her children. And there’s still time. Not a lot of time – nanoseconds in geologic terms… But we have a year, or three, to redeem ourselves.”

“I gave her my Rolex,” Ezekiel huffed.

The dragon laughed contemptuously in Ezekiel’s face.

“The status symbols you’ve spent the best years of your life chasing can’t water the crops or bring out the sun. You won’t be able to eat your money, or take it with you when you depart this life. Ezekiel, do you have any idea who or what you are?” the dragon inquired.

Ezekiel was silent. He had always thought of himself as a native son. That is, until messengers from the stars had informed him otherwise. The silver sheen of the dragon’s great neck burnished with moonlight, Nagaradja nodded in understanding, his luminous eyes filled with the memory of time.

“I see, my man, I see. The shock of discovery is upon you.” Suddenly aware of his out-of-control self-righteousness, his blind self-importance, Ezekiel burned with shame. “There is nothing wrong with wealth, with material abundance…” the dragon continued. “The universe is endlessly abundant. Just look at the stars. Look at diamonds, lumps of carbon, the most common element in all creation. What is wrong is thinking that it’s all for you. That life owes you. Each breath, everything you have, is a gift. Not something you actually ‘provide’ for yourself.”

The Elixir working its magic, so much of what Maman had taught


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Ezekiel came back to him now with real meaning. He was overwhelmed with the full realization that everything he had came from Mother Earth’s body and heart, birthed from Gaia’s union with her lover, the cosmic Sun. But Ezekiel couldn’t remember Maman ever telling him anything about a giant dragon that lived on the grounds of the abandoned Plantation Soleil.

“Forgive me for rambling on so. I don’t get out much,” Nagaradja concluded. “Just sometimes, with Maman Lezarde.”

“You – you know my grandmother?” Ezekiel snuffled.

“Maman Lezarde? Of course! But if she ever told you a 26,000 year old dragon lived on the slopes of the Viper’s Fangs and that occasionally, when the moon was bright, they went to the beach together, would you have believed her?”

It was true. Ezekiel had dissed so many of Maman’s teachings. His ignorance astounding, the tears were beginning to flow. It was a start. Like a blind man gifted with sight, the startling beauty of Maman’s simple way was revealed to Ezekiel. Her love and gratitude for all life everywhere was deep and true.

“Now we’re getting somewhere…” Nagaradja bellowed softly, purple smoke venting from his mouth, his lips inked with violet flame. If dragons could smile, Ezekiel would have sworn Nagaradja was grinning. “Yesss, it is important to honor the spirits of the ancestors. Make offerings to earth and sky at the painted rocks of the forgotten People of One…”

“I guess it all depends what you’re offering,” Ezekiel sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Nagaradja kept talking… “The ancestors are waiting for you to connect with them. Such is the divine purpose behind the creation of human museums, however inappropriately their contents were gathered. Someone who had a life in Ancient Egypt four thousand years ago can go see a familiar object, even if now reincarnated, he lives in the city of New York. One can go back to the land, or to a museum to commune with the medicine people who created the sacred artifacts, acknowledge the spirits of those who came before. Set their spirits free…”

The Dragon’s breath was violet flame. Nagaradja dwelt within and above the Earth, and moved freely through both air and water. At flow in faith, on the winds of the cosmos he surfed eternity’s great sea. “I don’t much concern myself with the affairs of men. I’ve watched you come and I’ll watch you go. But it will be lonely without you…,” he said wistfully.


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“Remember, we Dragons can survive even on a lump of carbon. We breathe pure prana – pure life-force energy – in any dimension or element. I am that, I am… But you humans can’t do that. Unless you remember how to breathe the way you used to… The Breath of Origin… Then, humans could change their experience of reality overnight. Overnight, if they wanted to. The choice is in the heart.”

Nagaradja’s message was simple. Disaster was upon them, unless they remembered the sacred breath. Ezekiel had witnessed the dragon-fire, and now felt the blaze of Mother Earth’s fire-breath pass through him… He too was one with the holy flame!

“Now you know how I breathe, how I exist without the need for food, for garments. Like the holy men of India who give up the external casings of clothing, when this internal life-flame ignites, no one is safe from its purifying inferno. No king, no president, no murderer, no millionaire.”

His loins tingling, his kundalini rising, Ezekiel’s skin burned with amethyst heat. He too was one with the Holy Planet. Embarrassed, Ezekiel struggled to maintain his composure.

“Yesssss,” Nagaradja continued. “It is one breath, the same breath, of which we all partake. The Breath of Origin, the One Breath which breathes through all of us… The privilege of hearing, seeing the hidden beauty of life-fire on Earth, is yours this night. You called and I answered. I am what is left of the temples of Atalan, and the secreted gifts of the People of One. Earth guardians and witnesses to ages past, we Dragons are Earth Ancients who evolved with the Mother.”

“We exist at a higher dimensional frequency, visible only when we wish to be seen. Love is a frequency, after all. Our purpose is to guard those energies of the Earth called by humans ‘ley’ lines. These lines of force are the Mother’s arteries, a network of light across Her body that distribute cosmic prana from the vortex centers through which She breathes Her sacred cosmic breath. The Breath of Origin breathes through her too…”

Without conscious volition, effort or direction on his part, Ezekiel could feel the pattern of his breathing change. There was no longer any distinction between the in-breath and the out-breath, it was just one breath, the steady, constant, silent pulse of the Breath of Origin, the one breath, breathing its looped breath through him, as it ever did and always would, through every living being, star and planet.

“The Great Pyramid at Giza, Stonehenge, Sedona, the great temples of


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Macchu Picchu, of the Sican, the pre-Incan civilizations of the Southern Americas – these are known to you. Yet you have forgotten their true purpose, and your innate connection to them. While those who secretly rule have never forgotten that true power lies in the hidden realms. Have you not noticed where and how structures of importance around the world are built? More often than not, over node points of the sacred geometries of Earth’s life-web. For balance and protection – or control and domination?”

“So many monuments, new and from time immemorial, stand on cross points of the magnetic rivers of Earth where giant vortexes of invisible but palpable cosmic energy pulse and breathe. Some monuments are designed with huge domed roofs and ceilings, each capping a vortex with its own pre-historical Dragon protectors and guardians of fate. Yet we dragons have long been tyrannized in a careful campaign of defamation,” Nagaradja protested, stamping one clawed foot.

“Who hasn’t heard of St. George ‘the dragon slayer’? Just look at all the churches named for him, and the stained glass windows commemorating the slaying of dragons. The real St. George was a friend of Dragons, who banished an etheric Reptilian Overlord – not a Dragon! We may be cousins on the evolutionary tree of life, but dragons are not Reptilians. Dragons have both heart and soul! And all true kings since the beginning have been friends and allies of Dragons!” Nagaradja roared, fire blasting out his snout.

Ezekiel’s breath caught in his throat. He recalled the stained glass window of a dead dragon with a sword through its heart, another one of Griffin Arakiel’s precious relics hanging in the formal dining room at the Light Resort.

“Unlike most Reptilians, Dragons are Guardians of the Christ Consciousness Grid built by the Ascended Immortals to protect the Mother and Her children. Many Dragons have been imprisoned, and with every Reptilian blood sacrifice of the human children of Earth, Dragonsshed blood rubies of their own crystal tears!”

“But why is the Grid so important?” Ezekiel could not help but wonder…

“Each major vortex is an inter-dimensional portal and star-gate to inter-galactic travel. Each time an earth protector, a human being or Dragon of Earth, Air, Fire or Water is harmed, chained or attacked – the energies of the Earth Mother are more easily commandeered and


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controlled. For whoever controls the life-web – the Grid – controls the world. It is one of the reasons the Mother has had such difficulty awakening. She has been badly injured by the Reptilian Queen’s organized, systemic resistance to Her.”

Nagaradja had Ezekiel’s rapt attention. It certainly explained the reason for the secret base on Esperance, as well as all the recent UFO sightings.

“Nuclear blasts set off in the South Pacific, the result of human ignorance, were the Reptilian Queen’s attempts to rip the Mother’s precious body open at the location of her perineum. This act was equivalent to the rape of a planet, a galactic atrocity,” Nagaradja explained sadly.

“At great cost, Dragons allied with awakened earth humans, the Star-Nations and the Immortals were able to save Gaia. Some of the star-people even went so far as to dismantle nuclear missile silos in the Midwest of the United States and in Russia. The true beginning of glasnost!”

Ezekiel tried to tell himself that Nagaradja was nothing more than a vivid hallucinatory projection of his subconscious mind. The scary thing was, what the dragon had to say made sense to him. Scary sense. As much as he wished, he could not dismiss Nagaradja’s transmission. Ezekiel had done his research. He’d read about the earth grid in the Cannabis Times…

How the ley-line energies of the temple stones of the ancient world were broken, dispersed and displayed in museums throughout Europe and North America. Some patterns more subtle than others, there was a great circle track that linked the pyramids of Giza to the glass pyramid of the Louvre in Paris; to the almost unknown pyramids of Toronto to the nearly decimated pyramid mounds of the forgotten Cahokia, squashed under the St. Louis Arch.

All monuments of importance, or why build them in the first place… Why bother transporting obelisks, the standing cores of truncated pyramids of Ancient Egypt to the European capitals of Paris and London? Rather difficult in the era of horse and cart and sailing ship – unless there was some greater purpose?? Not to mention the relatively new obelisks in Washington, D.C. and in Buenos Aires. Was the goal to serve, or control, the Mother?

Dragons and ley-lines, Ezekiel was no expert. A building was only as good as the people within it. Yet he could not deny the obvious. Many structures, ancient and modern – schools, temples, churches, towers –



appeared to be nothing less than stone markers on the life-web of Earth. And what if Gaia was conscious, and fully aware of the actions of the human children of Earth?

What if Gaia was alive and pulsing with massive currents of geomagnetic force which streamed along fixed points and channels? Humans naturally drawn to settle in the energizing flow of the earth energies, many were probably grid-keepers without even knowing it. Simply living and breathing from the heart and with pure intent meant they were not spewing added soul pollution into the grid.

“Insomuch as each major planetary vortex is an inter-dimensional portal and star-gate to inter-galactic travel, the heart of a human being is no less. A higher frequency human breathing in conscious sync with the breath of the Mother, the planetary avatar, breathes the one breath, theBreath of Origin, the breath of the Cosmic Heart. The sacred heart of the human is therefore a gate to the stars, and even, to Heaven,” Nagaradja concluded.

Apparently, Maman did much more than garden. Her life work unsung, Maman Lezarde had done much to free the dragon lines, to prepare the way of the coming Light. All along his eccentric grand-mother had been a friend of dragons, and guardian of the vortex of the Crystal Pyramid, dimensional gateway to the higher realms over which the pyramid had first been built. Maman Lezarde had held space in her heart for the rest of them, a caretaker of truth such that the later children of Earth would be reminded of the mysteries and returned to Love.



With newfound humility, Ezekiel shuffled along behind as Nagaradja easily picked his way across the boulder strewn slope to the foot of the larger of the Viper’s Fangs. The bright night still young, the Viper’s Fangs radiated strobing pulses of moonlight that penetrated Ezekiel’s skull with mind-numbing intensity that did nothing to calm his racing thoughts. He would never look at dragons the same way again…

On the verge of vomiting, time and time again Ezekiel retched the acid contents of an empty stomach. The glittering, crystalline paws of the Sphinx of Esperance beckoned, but Nagaradja refused to let him attempt a straight line across the boulder strewn field. Instead, the Dragon Elder insisted Ezekiel walk the subtle weave of an ancient labyrinth back to center.

“Respect, my son, respect is everything…”

Somewhat distracted by the shimmering vapors of his hands de-materializing and re-materializing before his eyes, it took Ezekiel what seemed hours to negotiate the enfolding curves.

“Follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road…” Ezekiel intoned, walking in a dream he was not dreaming.

But Nagaradja stayed close, keeping him on track with the steady kick of a back leg, and the mobile support of his muscular tail, which Ezekiel clung to with the desperation of an old man on a walker.


304 Ascension:

Somewhere between midnight and dawn, Ezekiel lurched to a stop at the feet of the alabaster-veined Sphinx. He had lived practically on top of it his whole life, but the only way he’d found the hidden entrance between the Sphinx’s Paws was through ignominious accident. Maman would say there were no accidents. Nor did she believe in co-incidence.

“You never saw me either, and I’m old enough to remember dancing with the Children of One…” Nagaradja reminisced, reading Ezekiel’s thoughts as easily as if he was cracking coconuts for Maman Lezarde at the beach.

“We brought down the moon when I was young…  Before Arakiel’s rule, the Reptilian Queen at his side…” Nagaradja could not hide his bitterness. “The great peoples and palaces and temples of Atalan downed long ago beneath the sea, this tunnel complex is what remains. The tunnel complex and the Crystal Pyramid, which I believe, Ezekiel, you have already seen, have you not?”

Without waiting for an answer, Nagaradja gave Ezekiel a gentle shove through the veil of orchids that hid the stairs between the sphinx’s paws. His eyes dilated and glassy, this time, Ezekiel could not blame it all on a bump on the head. The young gun half-heartedly told himself that everything was going to be alright. Either that, or he was certifiable. Nagaradja chuckled at his discomfiture, and continued…

“Esperance, or ‘The First Stone’, as it was called by the People of One, was the refuge of survivors who struggled to maintain the wisdom and glory of Atalan as she began her crumbling, decadent, descent. Our island home was the starting point of a migration which allowed the Ancestors to flee with their knowledge, along the spine of Caribbean islands knownto them as ‘The Stepping Stones.’”

“Legend has it those islands were left by the Creator to guide His true people, the ‘Children of One’, to the distant safety of the mainland. This place is now known as the tourist wonderland of the Yucatan. So many children of Atalan have been pulled to visit the islands, the ruins on theisthmus… In their present incarnations most of them are not consciously aware, but their travels are about much more than fun in the sun. They are retracing their steps, and collecting their memories.”

His stomach sinking, Ezekiel tried not to gag; he knew the feeling, all too well…

“A new civilization was born from the ashes of the old. Again magnificent stone cities, resplendent with pyramid temples, priests and


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priestesses, pictographic writing and a calendar more accurate than the Gregorian one used today, rose from the jungle’s fierce heat. Masters of space and time, Mayan timekeepers rode the quantum surf of the cosmic zuvuya. And still do,” Nagaradja winked.

It was just a dream – but Ezekiel burned with curiosity. Clear as crystal, Nagaradja the Great knew far more than he chose to tell. The Dragon took pity on Ezekiel’s ignorance, and threw him a bone.

“One fact regarding the Maya, I must set straight. Your archaeologists claim that they tossed human sacrifices into the sacred wells at Chichen Itza. Even an idiot knows that a landlocked people living in the heat and drought of the tropics with no water other than rain, would not pollute their drinking cistern with decomposing flesh.”

It seemed obvious, Ezekiel had to concede.

“As you may know, Dr. Masuro Emoto has recently proved that water is a living, holy substance. Like liquid crystal, water takes on the qualities of whatever energy or thought is imprinted upon it.”

Nagardja was going somewhere significant with this line of thought, Ezekiel could tell, and he was taking him along with him…

“The Maya bleached the bones of their dead, and placed the dessicated remains of their best, brightest and holiest in the water, which then received and carried the imprint of their wisdom. The ancestors thus ‘lived on’ in the water to bless the soil, the crops and the people. Not unlike the relationship between Christians of the Crusades and their holy water and holy relics, the skulls and bones of their saints. The Reptilian Queen did corrupt Mayan Civilization, eventually. But despite her addiction to blood, even she needed fresh water to survive…” Nagaradja paused,his eyes filled with sorrow.

Again humbled, Ezekiel put two and two together: he had escaped ‘Maktemba’; while entire civilizations had not.

“Yes, Ezekiel, the litany of grief is endless. The ‘games’ of the Roman Coliseum; the gas chambers of Nazi Germany; Stalin’s Soviet Gulag; the guillotines of the French Revolution; the Rwandan massacre; the Reptilian-possessed ‘leader’ of the ‘Lord’s’ Resistance Army of enslaved children in Uganda; and the impetus for every unjust war you can think of. Not to mention basic torture. Millions upon millions have suffered and perished, to what purpose, and in whose secret name? War does not end after the last bomb is dropped. The broken-winged, physically, mentally and emotionally wounded are expected to join the ranks of the living, even though they are traumatized with death.”


306 Ascension:

“As if nothing ever happened,” Ezekiel said, with sudden understanding.

“As if nothing ever happened,” Nagaradja echoed. “Nothing worth killing for, the only revolution which matters is therefore the flowering of peace from within. Let us return now, to the matter at hand,” Nagaradja nodded, ever patient.

Humans were slow to learn, but once they got it, nothing in the universe could stop them. Knowledge of the Breath of Origin, the key to the sacred temple of the human heart, was innate, programmed into every cell and segment of human DNA. With Nagaradja as his guide, Ezekielwas again returned to the hidden ledge and the locked doorway marked with a six petaled flower carved in the stone.

“Just like your heart, there is no lock, no door, no wall of rock, and never was,” Nagaradja proclaimed, following the bliss of the breath of fire as the door to the inner sanctum of Atalan stood open before his gentle presence.

There was no locked doorway, no wall of rock, and never had been.

The Breath of Origin the secret key, there was simply a spacious entry to a smallish cave with walls of glittering crystal alive in the violet fire of the Dragon’s breath.

“A temple of the Mother, the inner sanctum of the Crystal Cave is a fortress of the Clear Light. All are welcome but only the truly pure of heart may enter,” Nagaradja intoned, suddenly solemn.

Well acquainted with the content of his own thoughts, Ezekiel tarried outside as Nagaradja made his entrance. Inside the sanctum, inscribed on a floor of fine white powder sand, was a pattern of two large, evenly interlocked circles.

The Vesica Pisces.

“Remember, wherever two circles meet, divine light is born,” Nagaradja explained. “A divine coupling, the sacred feminine and sacred masculine exists here in perfect balance.”

Within the heart of the vesica pisces was drawn a simple flower within a third, fainter, smaller circle. The flower was large enough to fit a person’s outstretched arms, and the outer point of each of its six petals was defined by a massive, single-terminated quartz crystal.

The ancient Atalanean crystals clear as water at the moment of creation, the quartz was programmed with the unadulterated wisdom of the Children of One. The records of a lost civilization were a gift from the


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past to the future, to welcome the return of the light of human super-consciousness, and the advent of the rainbow tribe.

White gold with inner flame, the Atalanean power crystals were beginning to glow from within.

“The crystals are not necessary, merely helpful, in the amplification of soul memory. Each of us a link between the sacred Earth and Sky, there is no real need for props, man-made buildings, or to intellectualize. Our hearts are enough,” the Dragon Regent said, his great flanged tail twitching from side to side.

This was it. And Ezekiel was not sure that his love was sufficient.

Here was the test, the moment of truth Maman had spoken of. Ezekiel had been jumping hoops all his life, to confront the one he couldn’t sink, fake or fumble.

“Ritual has its uses. But when ritual is real, it finds you. Just like death, you cannot say no.”

On the threshold, Ezekiel quaked.

“What will happen when we open up to the Oneness of our true Being?” Nagaradja spoke in generalities, in terms of the royal ‘we’ – but Ezekiel knew exactly who he was referring to.

“I don’t know. I – I don’t think I’m ready.”

“If you say so, Ezekiel. The responsibility of a King of Atalan is great to bear.”

Did he say… ‘King’?

“True kings are few and far between, and a King of Atalan rarer still. What man is ready to let go of ego, greed, self-importance and personal suffering, in exchange for a life of true service?”

‘Not me!’ Ezekiel thought, ready to sprint down the lava tunnel all the way back to Maman’s…

Nagaradja examined Ezekiel closely, his excitement betrayed by the small, measured licks of smoke and flame erupting from his nostrils. “Yessss… I see… You possess true understanding. A king is a servant, whose life belongs to the Creator and to his people.”

Ezekiel felt ready to pass out. Who was he to follow in the footsteps of the Children of One? The one to keep a dragon waiting…

“Which human will be the one to tip the balance of creation in favor of the Clear Light?” Nagaradja asked, softly, of the night.

On the verge of an evolutionary leap, Ezekiel’s dormant ‘junk’ DNA was called to action. He was a human being, and a man who’s most sincere desire was for truth; for his own spiritual liberation and that of all


308 Ascension:

people everywhere. Ezekiel did not dare call himself a king; the cave might spit him to kingdom come. But he owed it to the planet to find out. With that, Ezekiel stepped forward –

and was welcomed to the inner sanctum of the Crystal Cave.

Before Ezekiel had time to think, Nagaradja had shoved him into position, into the center of the interlocked triangles of the Atalanean power crystals set in the pattern of a six-petaled flower. Blinded with light, overcome with dizziness, Ezekiel dropped to both knees. Everything was spinning around him. Synapses firing at ultrasonic speed, the higher aspect of his soul came on-line.

Past-life memories and abilities intact, Ezekiel’s being ignited with a powerful wave of remembering. He would no longer need the diaries, except to confirm what he already knew. What struck Ezekiel as odd, and oddly comforting at the same time, was how familiar it all seemed. His true self greeted him, a constant friend despite his long absence and karmic amnesia.

“We’ve been waiting awhile for this, have we not?” Nagaradja said, moving slowly clockwise around the crystals.

Arms and legs shaking uncontrollably, Ezekiel raised himself to one knee, his head bowed before history. Before his life as Father Leon, he had known the true Lelia, the true Priestess of Atalan. Before she had lost her life, and the Reptilian Queen had taken over her body. Fool, fool, MamanLezarde had known he was a fool.

He was the fool King of Atalan, who’d given up a kingdom for love, and got nothing but his throat cut in return. Ezekiel winced. He could see the jeweled crown that had once sat on his head, but not his love-struck face…

“To remember more would only confuse the present,” Nagaradja interjected, with wisdom born of the ages.

Great flanged dragon tail pounding out a hypnotic beat against the floor of crystalline sand, Nagaradja pulled Ezekiel back to the now.

“Feel free to join in any time,” Nagaradja said.

The weight of the ocean of time pressing upon him, for Ezekiel it was easier said than done. Nagaradja’s gnarled, ancient feet playing counterpoint, the dragon began his chant:


Awaken, Gaia-Maa!

We Are One, We Are One


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We have come, we have come,

Children of the People of One,

Mother, we have returned

To serve you, and protect you

Ezekiel was dancing like a white man. But it did not stop him. He and the last dragon of Esperance danced their love for Mother Earth. Nagaradja danced for times long past and the time to come… Ezekiel danced for Maman; for his birth mother, the unfortunate Sister Florieta, beyond his reach in the Convent. For the true High Priestess of Atalan. For Arriana, he danced. Love drawn in endless circles around the crystals of power, Ezekiel and Nagaradja danced for Life.

Grid-busters at prayer in the Crystal Cave, last Atalanean hold-out, they summoned the Dragons of Earth. Ancient protectors set free by the power of love, Gaia’s Dragons came and danced with them. Dragons of Water, of Air, of Fire and of Earth, they came. A chorus of Dragon voices lifted up the Mother, reclaiming the life grids of Gaia and dismantling forever the dimensional prison around Her…

Day of Light, Day of Light,

You have come, you have come,

Breath of One, breathe through us,

Breath of Origin, shine forth!

We Are One, We Are One

Over and over, together they chanted the ancient prophecies. Blood lightning firing his veins, Ezekiel rode his breath, the one breath, the breath of origin… Pushed to the outer edge of inner space, in the cool fire of the amethyst blaze Ezekiel’s clothing was about to spontaneously combust. His clothes turned to sacred cinders in violet flame, Ezekiel was stripped to his skin.

Thus made ready, Ezekiel experienced dimensions impossible to describe with words.

Timeless hours passed.

Inexplicably covered in ash, from the threshold of the inner sanctum of Atalan, the pale light of a soon to set moon washed Ezekiel clean. He’d been blessed, with a vision or two. He had ridden the dragon, climbed a volcano and helped save the world; or something like that. However, in the fading moonlight Ezekiel wasn’t sure if the door to the inner sanctum had ever opened, or if a cave of crystal in fact existed. Faced with a wall of rock, the crystal sanctum was again closed, and Nagaradja was gone.



Ezekiel was left staring at the flower in the stone.

Next to his toe, something winked at him in the starshine. Ezekiel leaned down to pick it up the piece of shell from its bed of crystalline sand, and gasped. In the open cup of his hand, greenly iridescent, a dragon scale gleamed back.

“I am the record-keeper, the truth-sayer, the witness!” Ezekiel declared to the open sky and ocean, thus claiming his throne.

Nagaradja could hear him.

He just knew it.

From between the paws of the alabaster sphinx, Ezekiel exited the Atalanean tunnel complex. Where were his damn clothes? Strewn all over the black rock of the volcanic hills, no doubt… Ezekiel hobbled over the sharp terrain, but found nothing, not even the charred remains of afew tattered pieces of cloth.

By force of habit, Ezekiel looked at his wrist, and then grimaced; he’d thrown his rolex into the volcano.

Like his garments, it too was gone.

And still, he had not found her.


ASCENSION: The FireFlower

The End of Time… But Not The End of The World



Proudly Available At  www.MayanMajix.com

Stargates of the Ancients – Norway & Yemen!!!

Part I:

Last year I received a message from Spirit regarding the true nature and purpose of the mysterious and dramatic white-light spiral over Norway:

“WE have travelled a great distance across time and space to be here with you now. Our love for you borders on adoration. We are of the Family of One. Any man-made technology designed to access our domain will not work. It is like using a teaspoon to row across the Atlantic (ie. CERN). Those who have taken a ‘left-turn’, as in your vernacular, are too far gone to come back publicly, although the distance to re-alignment within is just a heartbeat away. For these individuals, a return to silence, stillness, is the best option. The White/Blue Spirals over Norway are a manifestation of Source Energy, the Origin of All Creation Blue-Prints, returned to Earth. It is happening all over the planet – but over Norway it was made dramatically visible to human eyes. All Mother Earth’s vortexes are being cleansed and realigned; all psychic and electromagnetic pollution is being cleansed. Like a little mud dissolved in a stream of crystal clear spring water, the water stays clear. So it is with the vortexes of Earth, reconnected to the crystal cosmic streams of Galactic Center. We are of the Family of One; we can take on bodies of matter, but prefer to remain in light-body frequency instead of the density of the physical. We are of the Family of One, individuated points of consciousness in the Continuum. The change of the ‘Second Coming’ has begun. There is nothing to fear. For those in alignment with Source, with Mother Earth, the changes will not be difficult.”

Part II:   Now,  watch this video I just discovered, which seems to confirm the above message!!!


Happy Valentine’s Day!!!!  In case you are interested, here is my original post in its entirety:

December 12:12 Message for 12:21 Solstice
Norway’s White/Blue Spirals – The Return of the Light – Dec. 21, 2009

To be clear, I am not personally big on channeled messages per se. If my Higher Self has something to say, I am quite happy, as ‘just me’, to say whatever it is. However, as my husband Paul and I were meditating through 12:12 PM on the 12:12 this month, a very clear ‘message’ came through, regarding the White Spiral and accompanying Blue Spiral (scroll down) which appeared over Norway on December, 9, 2009, apparently at the same time – if a day earlier – than Obama’s acceptance of his Nobel Peace Prize. I had zero preconceived ideas of what the spiral phenomenon might be. Along with everyone else, I watched video posted to U-Tube, and read the early commentary where the Russians first denied having anything to do with the spiral phenomenon, and then conveniently took responsibility for it. I say ‘conveniently’ because I think the truth is far more inconvenient than any of our current governments would dare to admit publicly.

A failed missile test? I don’t think so. A ridiculously propagandist piece in the UK’s Sun Newspaper had an ‘eyewitness’ account from another ‘conveniently’ located ‘ex-pat’ who just happened to be wandering around Norway at the time – who said he was sure the world was about to end in a terrible nuclear disaster, and that he saw a ‘blue beam’ ‘shoot’ out of the ground and into the sky, ‘destroying’ the wayward Russian missile. Anyone who had not bothered to watch the video would have no doubt accepted this story. Except that to those who did actually witness the event, or watch any video footage thereafter, the Blue Spiral clearly emerged from the collapsed White Spiral’s magnificently haloed ‘black hole.’ This fact also undermines the theory that the Blue Spiral was a projection from the ground up, supposedly simultaneously ‘creating’ and/or ‘destroying’ the White Spiral – when clearly, the White Spiral came first!

Which brings me to another thorny topic: I’ve heard mention of a HAARP Facility being located on an island off the stretch of coast where the White/Blue Spirals appeared. For those who have not bought the ‘failed Russian Missile Test’ Theory – there are certain factions who would prefer that you buy the ‘Project Blue Beam’ Theory. That is, that the Norway White Spiral and Emergent Blue Spiral are nothing more than an atmospheric ‘hologram’ created by HAARP. This is far preferable to the truth, because it creates the ‘convenient’ impression that these same factions are still in control. Please note, that on December 8, 2009 – the day before the Norway White Spiral and Emergent Blue Spiral Event – a young man and his girlfriend in northern Scotland witnessed two flashes of the same color blue fill the entire night sky. (Please visit my Twitter Page – AndreaHansen11 – for the Link to U-Tube).

This is very significant, because it means that whatever the ‘Blue’ Light is, it is not dependent on any HAARP facility for its creation; nor are the ‘White Spirals’, also filmed over China, and seen in other locations. Which raises the obvious question: Why did the White Spiral appear in the first place? And why did it direct a Blue Spiral at an island off the coast of Norway with a supposed HAARP Facility? I think anyone with half a brain can easily put two and two together. (And don’t forget – as far as the nations of Earth are concerned, Norway is an exemplary society. Norway has the highest standard of living in the world for all its citizens, excellent free medical care, university, paid holidays of at least one month per year, etc. etc., equally available to all. See Michael Moore’s ‘Sicko’ doc, Special Features, ‘The Country That Beats France’).

Now, here’s the 12:12 channeled message that came through,
in time for the 12:21 Solstice – and remember, I’m just the messenger!

WE have travelled a great distance across time and space to be here with you now. Our love for you borders on adoration. We are of the Family of One. Any man-made technology designed to access our domain will not work. It is like using a teaspoon to row across the Atlantic (ie. CERN). Those who have taken a ‘left-turn’, as in your vernacular, are too far gone to come back publicly, although the distance to re-alignment within is just a heartbeat away. For these individuals, a return to silence, stillness, is the best option. The White/Blue Spirals over Norway are a manifestation of Source Energy, the Origin of All Creation Blue-Prints, returned to Earth. It is happening all over the planet – but over Norway it was made dramatically visible to human eyes. All Mother Earth’s vortexes are being cleansed and realigned; all psychic and electromagnetic pollution is being cleansed. Like a little mud dissolved in a stream of crystal clear spring water, the water stays clear. So it is with the vortexes of Earth, reconnected to the crystal cosmic streams of Galactic Center. We are of the Family of One; we can take on bodies of matter, but prefer to remain in light-body frequency instead of the density of the physical. We are of the Family of One, individuated points of consciousness in the Continuum. The change of the ‘Second Coming’ has begun. There is nothing to fear. For those in alignment with Source, with Mother Earth, the changes will not be difficult.

I AM A Sovereign Being / ‘Disclosure’ Starts Here!!

Disclosure is being held back precisely because it is tied to the Agenda of Global Abduction.  The real secret is not that we are not alone in the Universe – but the psychic and reproductive rape and gross physical and psychological violations of human rights of global citizens around the world.

Dear Ones, Although we have not met, you are part of my spiritual community, and it is for this reason that I reach out to you now.  Last night I set my alarm for 5:40 AM.  When it rang, I stumbled out of bed to the kitchen to switch it off, and proceeded to make orange juice and feed the cats.  I then did a double take, because the clock read 3:40 AM.  I needed to check the correct time, so I went to the study to read the time on the phone.  Yes, indeed, it was  3:40 AM…  but what really bothered me was that even though I was alone in the house (hubbie visiting his mum) my computer was switched back on – yet totally disconnected from any power source other than its own battery – and the lights on my phone indicated internet-use, blinking wildly in the dark.  Although I am often ‘wakened’ between 3 and 4 AM (as I’m sure many of you are as well)  I am never in my office at that hour.

Weird things go on with my phone line and internet all the time…  Just last weekend I picked up the phone to call my mother, but before I could dial a strange woman’s voice said “Hello??”  “Who is that???” I asked, more than a little tired.  It is not the first time in the last twenty-five years I’ve found myself having such a conversation…  “It’s Katia,” she answered – with a thick Russian accent I kid you not – before a gaggle of male voices interrupted, slightly panicked, in the background – at which point I hung up.  So, back to last night.  I did not sleep very well.

The night before last, just as I was drifting off around midnight, came the unbiquitous sound of those soft, soft helicopter blades…  Like a bullet I was wide awake, invoking the presence of  Christed Angels.  The sound faded, and did not come back, unless of course I was asleep and could not hear it.  SANSKRIT:  ‘SO-HUM, SO-HUM, SO-HUM’, ‘God I AM, I AM I AM…’   I remind myself in spite of fear.

That is still better than going for a pelvic ultrasound and having the female  technician (again Russian, what are the odds)  ask me when I had surgery.    “Yes, half of your right ovary, it is removed. Yes, it is a straight cut.  You had surgery, yes?”  It was the first I’d heard of it. Another joyful occasion  in the ultrasound – after spending yet another recent summer in extreme pain because of a ‘benign’ ‘cyst’ in my uterus that grew from 3 cm to 8cm in one month and then conveniently disappeared – that the ‘specialist’ told me was perfectly normal, nothing to worry about, happens all the time  – on that happy occasion the ultrasound technician called in a doctor to look at the screen, who then said to me “You are a brave woman.”  In an ultrasound they are not allowed to comment on what they see – but I am deeply grateful to these women who did.  I’m rambling, I know, but that is what happens when you keep all this toxic ‘life-experience’ bottled up for 43 years.  What is the point of  sharing something so personal and so devastating and risking more punishment, ridicule and disbelief?  Because it is better than being forced to  pretend that nothing happened, that nothing’s going on.

I’ve tried to get some of it out, as fiction, in my novel ‘ASCENSION: The FireFlower.’  When I started the book thirteen years ago, an early mess of a draft I’d printed in black and white  –  two words out of the whole manuscript printed out in red ink:  ‘blood’ and ‘slaughter-house.’ At that time, I could barely use the computer, let alone the printer, or any ‘special’ settings.

When I emailed my final proof to my publisher, I discovered months later while sorting old sent emails that at the same time a copy of the entire proof was simultaneously sent to an ‘undisclosed recipient.’  I have absolutely no idea who.

As of today Monday Feb. 7, 2011,  over a year after actually being published, the purchase link for the e-book version of  ‘ASCENSION: The FireFlower’  is still not up on the bookstore page of the publisher’s webstore, despite many phone calls and emails on my part.

What I have shared with you now really is the tip of the ice-berg. Someone(s) never wanted this book written; and they certainly don’t want you or anyone else to read it.  People I’ve reached out to for help, names you would know, have not responded as you might think;  certainly not as I’d hoped.

Fear of reprisal and fear speaking out have held me back; that is no longer an option. And here come the ‘Men In Black’ right on cue:   I too have been harassed by so-called  ‘Men In Black’  –  here in Canada they are partial to pitch-black, clearly expensive aviator sunglasses, polo shirts and black baseball caps.   Last summer while having lunch at a deli, one sat at the table next to me and glowered.  I asked him to pass me the ketchup.  For the life of me I could not figure out why they were floating around until last weekend (same weekend ‘Katia’ introduced herself) I was graced to discover the work of Melinda Leslie.  Melinda Leslie”s article on ‘MILABS / REABS’ is a MUST READ – See Below – she really provided me with some solid answers as to what it is these guys want.  Make no mistake, they are cold-blooded.

Remember back to Oct 13, 2010, when someone had that big prophecy about it being the day of official contact/disclosure??  Well, that night, my husband and I went for a walk – because I wanted to have a private conversation away from the house – there in the late evening sky perfectly overcast with heavy, thick cloud, above my house were 1) a circling, hovering ‘helicopter’  , and side-by-side as if ‘parked’ 2)  a giant perfectly circular cookie cutter cut-out revealing clear night beyond, and 3) a giant square-shaped cookie cutter cut-out revealing clear night beyond.  These ‘windows’ in the cloud-cover did not drift away or lose definition is spite of being ‘just clouds’ for at least half an hour.  We just carried on with our walk and our conversation. 

Those pesky helicopters.  Someone once told me that they are  not what they appear to be.  Have not decided yet who/what they are.  ‘Friendlies’, intercepting some of my ‘other’ decidedly unfriendly ‘visitors’  –  or same unwelcome ‘guests’  ? Probably a bit of both.  I know that there are surveillance copters that have the capacity to listen to conversations at a distance of at least a mile;  but I have also while doing sacred grid-work in mid-town Toronto had one come out of nowhere, hover directly overhead and then disappear mid-flight in mid-air on its trajectory away from where I stood in front of a church.  Early days, I was a bit freaked out…  Anyway… I have a friend coming over to stay this evening.  Hopefully she’ ll be here soon, and hopefully there will be no new scoop marks, perfect circular red skin marks, triangulated needle marks, or large painful bruises in varying shades of black and blue leaving attractive triangles with little circles on their points on my thigh in the morning.

Disclosure is being held back precisely because it is tied to the Agenda of Global Abduction.  The real secret is not that we are not alone in the Universe – but the reproductive rape and gross physical and psychological violations of human rights of global citizens around the world.  In exchange for what??  Technology?  What kind of technology, that is the question.

http://www.maar.com    –   AMAZING ARTICLE by Melinda Leslie about the real reason ‘abductees’ are ‘re-abducted’ by the men in black   ‘MILABS/REABS’


http://www.karlaturner.com        (Further insight on those helicopters)


I don’t want to do this alone anymore.  It is very hard now for me to trust people at face value  – but I can’t do this alone.  I really really need your support. Now you know why I do not have any children – not having any is the most responsible and loving thing I could do.  If you feel moved to connect with me, please write me at this blog post. The messages are private, please indicate if you wish your comments to be made public.   I’m not sure how to direct you, but the links are here somewhere.

SANSKRIT:  SO-HUM, SO-HUM, SO-HUM, God I AM, I AM I AM… I remind myself in spite of fear.

P.S. In today’s yahoo news, Canada’s spy bureau advised their employees not to wear cuff links, baseball caps or polo shirts emblazoned with the company logo while out in public.