The Merkaba (5)
By windrose
- 393 reads
Next few days went peaceful. Tyler was fasting on fruits and roots, flowers and herbs, for three days to endure a rare psychic ritual. That was the difficult part. He studied the addresses and in the haste most of them were blurred and out of focus. He made some duplicates and left the rest with Maria. He sat down to type a chapter he had not even begun.
Samvel Salazar suggested ways to enter Georgia disguised like a Jew and ride in a truck or a businessman carrying an Argentinean passport.
Talking about ‘disguise like a Jew’ – these areas were Romanised. And yet some ancient roots prevailed in their belief patterns and Maria was practising the esoteric teachings of Kabbala.
Further downhill, one and half kilometres away in biking distance, Maria kept a house in a remote village hidden in the mountain forest of spruce trees. This house with a brown roof and maroon walls and a narrow path lying beside was her haven.
Here Maria caught her first visual with the photo of Pier Sivils placed before her. Her first reaction was ‘an airlift’…a chariot…conveyance…an aircraft.
Jaco turned out to be diseased…perhaps used.
Running her hand on the addresses she touched a shockingly strong vibration. A blurred image but Tyler managed to read…something he stupidly missed before. Robert Maxwell…he read it in The Washington Post.
“An officer…” she said.
Working on TAM covers she saw two containers of cargo in a hanger-like warehouse and she believed they were still in Armenia.
Ending that session Taylor passed the photo of Hajnal sleeping on the swelled mattress lying prone and legs spread out.
“That’s what you like,” she burst out and could not stop laughing.
He attended her yoga class in the morning and biked downhill to a spot outside Maria’s house where she showed how to sit alone and exercise a proper spherical breathing, divert from negative thoughts, free your mind, embrace divine love and re-establish pranic flow…return to habits given up by mankind long time ago. To balance the polarities of the eight electrical circuits and cleansing the body…to engage the pineal gland as it functioned when it was five-hundred times greater.
He was embarked in a rather difficult task…to split his mind, body and soul…take them into a spin at the speed of light to break the magnetic field and travel to new dimensional levels.
It seems…fasting alone was wakening his senses every time he picked the photo of Hajnal or even to think of it…he could feel it hard in the crotch like his youthful days. He could best describe this feeling like starting a brand new automobile; insert the key and turn, it fires up instantly. Not at this age; now you insert the key and turn talk…talk…talk…and it never gets started.
After a week he grasped the rhythm of breathing technic and for the first time felt an aura existing in his sphere. As Maria instructed…have no fear…let it go…do not hold back…
Maria suggested a deep sleep exercise that could trigger an astral projection. At her cottage in a makeshift studio with black screens drawn on four walls he began to sleep in a neutral bed. Arranged with lavender flowers and a tiny layer of smoke set in the vacuum. She switched on a generator in a shed far from the house to power on a device that illuminated a narrow beam of sulphur ray at 370˚ Fahrenheit of heat.
She explained, “If I observe carefully I might be able to see the projection like a faint glow sometimes rise up to the ceiling and this matter passes through anything so here’s what you should know. If you have a visual or a dream and hesitated, you will not ascend. It discontinues. So let it go and have no fear…feel the levitation and wake up with a clear vision.”
He had certain experiences in the first few days seeing death, paralysed and could not move a finger. He called his mother to shake him up…pleaded not to bury him…he’s not dead. This was how you feel in death…you see everything around your collapsed physical body with no strength. You scream and scream but your voice won’t come out or it’s inaudible. You wake up several times in a sequel to find you are dead. And you don’t give up…you keep struggling to wake up. It’s fear…the fear of death.
Another night he looked down on earth to see his body lying helplessly in bed. Have no fear, let it go, he had to go. He feared separation. He woke up to find that he did not even stir in bed.
In another progression he found himself moving through the pines in the forest over the mountains. As he promised…let go the fear. He was carried further into the woods. He travelled just below the branches. His ethereal made a breakthrough. It was like a childhood dream.
On 14th Wednesday, he took a flight to a distant world…beautiful streams and a small village on the slope of a mountain. Suddenly, there was a noiseless bird in the sky. It appeared above the trees and moved gradually like a drone. People began to run into the woods. The sun was setting and the rays warm. The hovering craft dropped hand grenades covering an area in front of the villagers fleeing for their lives. Each shell exploded in their heels disrupting black earth thrown in their faces. He could feel the shakes.
In the next instance the aircraft landed in a clear area just like a helicopter. It shaped more like an aircraft of the size of a double-decker bus as he saw it from the front. Sunrays reflected on its white fuselage with a blue and orange stripe. He could clearly see two of the pilots behind the windshield. They were American.
On the ground, a small militia carrying Škorpion vz 61 Czech-made machine guns, wearing guerrilla-style uniforms, advanced to obstruct the civilians from escape. They wanted civilians to serve them as servants. A soldier with a gold tooth ordered a captive to repair a bicycle. He was Vanco.
A white staircase came down from the aircraft and two frontrunners descended. The militia leader was identified as Pier Sivils. The next was the captain; Robert Maxwell.
At that point Tyler decided to make a break. And he got an ability others were powerless to have. He could feel that his capacity to fly was a skill he possessed from childhood. He ascended into the late afternoon sky. Some tried to shoot him down. He caught a thrilling sensation elusive – catch me if you can – and yet those bullets flew close enough.
Finally, he emancipated and began to drop to the ground at a fast rate. The field below was catching up. He saw the budding meadows of the Teghenis Mountains with yellow and white, red and blue flowers. He saw a big moon over the peaks. A deepening blue sky and a setting sun reflected off altocumulus clouds. He grazed the grass and applied a technique that made him glide again. He still got the talent. He did again but the height was lower. Eventually he lost the ability to fly. He descended slowly to the ground…
Tyler couldn’t definitely identify the destination of his teleported journey. He picked every detail and saw the faces of Pier Sivils, Vanco and Robert Maxwell. He was bearing south but his mind weighed on north to Georgia. Maria said, “Follow your heart…”
Ending the session that Maria ranked eight out of ten which was quite an extraordinary feat for she never gave ten. Nine if she captured the ethereal in a projection in the smoke. Tyler decided to visit Georgia disguised like a Jew. Step in for no good reason and avoid checkpoints therefore a contact was arranged by Salazar at Veli train station near Tbilisi. He wanted to take a look around TAM factory in Georgia.
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