6.2 Astral Projection

Tyler removed the developed film cartridges and the photographs. He sat down to take a look at the prints. “These are photos from the address card holder. These come from a TAM file. And this is the cover of a MAC file, a Skopje file, which I wasn’t able to look into.”

She poured two glasses and sat down on a chair opposite to him.

Tyler was holding the nude card of Hajnal which he took secretly in the middle of the night while she slept in bed. Thick black hair rested on a bolster and right arm on her flat chest. He tossed the card across the table and uttered in Slavic.

She took a look at the image and placed her hand on her mouth to giggle. She didn’t grasp what he said but felt he cursed. “Is this the girl?” she asked.

“Yeah, that is Hajnal Gábris or Gábris Hajnal as they call. I never thought I could grab such a sharp image without using a flash in the room light. I feared she might wake up. That was my first attempt and the only one.”

“Not bad,” she commented, “Let me try with this photograph if I could get a vibration.” Cherry got up from the chair to move a miniature stone khachkar on the fireplace mantel to the table. She picked a Bible wrapped in a red scarf, undid the scarf and placed on her hair under the headgear. Then she removed a gold chain under her vest. Pulled it from her hair and left it on the table. A gold pendent of a cross attached to the chain.

She sat down meticulously on the chair, picked the cross and touched the Bible with her left hand while she placed the photograph under her right palm. Cherry closed her eyes.

She whispered something probably unnecessary to know before she began her prayer in the native tongue, “Saint Catherine of Siena will be in my prayers today.”

Few seconds later, she caught a visual and spoke with her eyes closed, “There’s no light. She is in the dark,” she opened her eyes, “She’s behind bars.”

“That’s what Salazar thought.” He tossed one of the TAM photographs under her palm.

“I can see two containers in a storehouse. I think they are here in Armenia.”

He passed a photograph of Jair Sivils.

Her first reaction was of an ‘airlift’, a chariot…a conveyance…an aircraft.

He placed a photo of Jaco Ferre under her hand.

“Deceased,” she cried.

Then he gave her the photos of the card holder.

Running her hand on the addresses, she touched a shocking sensation of a vibration. A blurred image with a shine of the holder sleeve over it but Tyler managed to read, “Robert D Maxwell.” Something he missed stupidly. He read it in the Népszava paper – FBI agent assassinated in Budapest. He had to derive that address no matter how out of focus it was.

“An officer,” she muttered.

“Can you visualise?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “In mid-thirties, wearing a blue jumpsuit. He is flying over a desert.”

“Describe him!”

“He looks like an average guy, clean shaved and in good physical condition.”

“Ouch!” he jumped up from the chair catching a slight movement of a rock lizard on the floor.

“It’s only a lizard,” she got up and chased it out of the door.

“It scared me to death!”

“I’m afraid,” she said, “I have lost the vision.”

“It’s alright,” he returned, “I’m impressed.”

“Let’s have some hot coffee!”

He was keenly focused on the blurry little letters under the name of Robert D Maxwell and he was able to read, “1712 S Velutina Drive, Tempe, AZ.”

 

Easter in Armenia lasted several weeks. He had a great opportunity to watch the processions taking place in the village and in Hrazdan. Beautiful girls in traditional taraz costumes, colourful clothes, decorated headgears, embroidered cashmeres, jewellery and gold, performed a series of folk dances on the stages at Rusadan Ski Resort. The Surb Zatik customary dish which was Armenian trout and red wine served every night at the restaurant located in the east wing hall of the hotel.

The Lighting of the Holy Fire was met with great excitement and reverence. It was brought in a container from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Old City of Jerusalem and passed to the churches. The faithful lined the streets holding their candles eagerly waiting to light with the Holy Fire.

Tyler Friesen kept a record of all these activities and took photographs of the events as he spent his days in Armenia involved in a spiritual cleansing ritual.

 

Tyler Friesen embarked on a daring three-week long intensive course to undergo a rare psychic ritual to split his mind, body and soul, and take them in a spin at the speed of light to break the magnetic field and travel to new dimensional levels. He was fasting on fruits which were abundant in the valleys – apricots, peaches, apples, grapes, plums, pomegranates, quinces and others. They even tasted unique enriched with streaming good water and favourable climate. He was told to suppress desires and not to watch television or touch a spirit other than a glass of wine and he was not a smoker. He maintained a very strict diet and in three days began to feel its effects and bit his tongue every time he ate fruit.

It seemed fasting alone was wakening his senses into a suggestive sensation. Every time he saw that photo of Hajnal or even to think of it, he could feel sparks rising in his body like his manhood age. He could best describe this feeling like a brand-new automobile roaring to a fire up instantly. Not at this life, now that he’s used to insert the key, choke…choke…choke…it never gets started.

One day at the bar, his mind worked up with a thought to grab that woman and pull her dress from behind and that would drive the crowd mad and laughing. It just occurred in his brains without a sip of a drink. He suddenly realised that was the most preposterous thing he could think of.

“Gee! I’m old! I’m old!” he refrained. He felt hair-raising even to this day to think of what he thought that day.

Tyler attended a yoga class every day at Rusadan Ski Resort where they often held the lessons outside on the asphalt in front of the bar if weather permitted. And biked downhill to a spot beside the Makravank Monastery where she showed how to sit alone and exercise a proper spherical breathing, divert from negative thoughts, free the mind, embrace divine love and re-establish his pranic flow…in other words, return to habits given up by mankind long time ago. To balance the polarities of the eight circuits and cleansing them to engage the pineal gland as it functioned when it did five hundred times greater. This was key to an ethereal body separation in an altered stage of consciousness. With that he perfected his natal clock to work sharp to go to bed and sharp to wake up.

Tyler was reading those books he obtained from Cherry’s library and Hrazdan museum. Most of the books were in Hayeren and he could not read them. He kept his diary of day-to-day activities and took note of the Cosmic Spirit as much as he gathered information.

There’s no limit to its height and its depth is unfathomable. Flowing like a fountain and bubbling like a spring, its energies filled the void and the space. It can be clear, it can be opaque, yielding yet strong, soft yet firm. It can expand and spent itself without exhaustion. It overspread every part of the ether, matter, time and space. It is a macrocosm as well as a microcosm. It gave height to the mountains and depth to the abyss. It made planets to revolve in their courses. It fashioned beasts to walk and birds to fly. It never failed in its works. Whether it’s a flux or a hoax, perfect or imperfect, it exists. It’s just a matter of curiosity. It’s not many, it’s not one. It is inside everybody and it does not expire but the man perishes and the man is quiescent. Where does it go?

Tyler was going to find out.

After a week, he grasped the rhythm of the breathing technic and for the first time felt an aura existing in his sphere. As Cherry taught, have no fear, let it go and don’t hold back.

To begin with a sleep session, Cherry would put him in bed and place a chair next to the illuminator which was a device that controlled the room temperature. She’d sit with a pad and take down notes of the observations. Sometimes she would go out and once she was sure that he fell asleep, she would turn on the lights gradually and the room filled with heat.

On the first trial, she placed him in bed and said, “I will leave the door open.”

“Are you sure no lizard can get inside?” he cried.

“Oh no! Go to sleep! Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!”