which was hidden will be revealed

les eaux célestes ou lait de la Vierge

the celestial earth 

or the Virgin Mary's Milk

L'Estoile de Vénus Martiale

La Griffe du Lyon Vert 

The Holy Seal, gift from the Polar Star 

The Shadow of the Black Sun

in a Virgin's Mirror 

...these are but holy gifts after years of travail,

Do they belong to me?

  What comes to us when we are friends of God

draws down on us His Mercy

and we see as in a mirror darkly what is ours :

    Be Brave and dont throw your pearls to swine !

Be Good even in the face of Evil,

We are but god-men,

going down

thru

Hell

and like Dante

must come out to the

Other side to make a sham of it All !

Barak'al lahu fiq.

 

Non Comburetur

C'est lui, le soufre, cet artisan secret qui élit domicile au centre du mercure et y façonne, dans le silence et le mystère, son propre habitacle. C'est lui, l'artifex in opere, l'artiste qui se tient caché dans l'Oeuvre pendant toute la durée de l'élaboration, que Tollius appelle l'Homme Chimique et qui n'apparaît aux yeux que lorsque le corps complètement débarrassé des parties hétérogènes, a acquis la transparence et la cristallinité caractéristique des formes parfaites.
                 
Eugène Canseliet

From our current lifeless mechanical state that claims the right to exist for its own sake, we must form a living being with the sole purpose of serving a higher idea.

Adolf Hitler

The will is the invisible and dangerous sulfur, that must be harnessed  within our burning furnace. This is what impregnates the diaphanous hermetical water which the angels have brought to the abysses of this earth which lies dumbfoundedly in wait, to be redeemed.


Your faith burns in the outreaches imprisoned by men's invented plastic bars, they have hand cuffed you, but you had only come to make war on the little minded and miserly. You were there to warn, but this lying vulgar world was not your home. They put you in a prison cell and then surepticiously did away with you.

Yet, in spite of all such evident appearances, you were still the master of your Fate, and you belonged to those who dare to do otherwise, to save those who were short sighted. But did they deserve your love and, your Honour.

The soul goes off into the skies and comes back to clothe the desolate dead body, abandoned by your timely demise. You have drunken eternity's breuvage, your spouse kisses your noble brow. 

Where the Star strikes and shudder's through the wonderful calling messanger's proclamation, God says, I shall take back what is mine. The Star will fall...but you will burst in on the molten corpse. I will drive the sword into your mind's heart. You will be reunited and wed to a new transformed  Aryan self ! You will be a brother of the True and courageous Christ.

Look there, above in the Firmament is the Emerald Crown, your soul sits within its substance, I shall place it on the corpse with the celestial waters, and I will blacken you to make a Golden Image with your True Face.

From Door to Door

From door to door death awaits each invented body. And all bodies in each realm where consciousness must appear, shall dislocate, falling into dissolution !

Where the gods have brought about all nations and peoples, death awaits patiently, kwowing herself to be the only victorious one and herself as the purificating absolution of all living creatures. Death is what makes the outer corpse of things, the diadem of princes in another world.

What has strived by its very nature to be Noble here, shall in thru the next door be the Noble Thing accomplished !

Once iron's imprisoned being has passed from this everlasting Dark and Black Age, his awareness slips quickly by the narrow entrance, and lo and behold the immortal, from all corruption and blank uselessness will embrace the heros he'd seen often times before in his soul's Sky.

After all, what was that that went on inside of you ? All those coarse dirty metals which had somehow clogged your body's nostrils...

You were but a stone fallen from heaven and now as before in this earth baked furnace, the breath of you writhes like a holy serpent-dragon still fighting the Good and Just War upon those who would have you stuck in the mire forever, where precious things cannot, will not stay!

From door to door, into heaven's chamber where even Paradise would not be good enough. All who were there, now here, are not all fallen with broken wings. Some have come with their holy feathers, but only thru the Black Sun's dark door, behind beyond all the projected geometrical figures, will they have regained their usage. The Gods help those who would dare know, yet would not aspire to filthiness !

The Mysteries are not for everyone, and will not lend themselves to those frightened by spectres derived from the vulgar man's wishing mind. With every people having seen and seeing life in the Iron Age, few are best, few are immortal : these anonymous few are in themselves their own law, and are the Good Ones, the friends of God and in Invisible Light the Brothers and Sisters of the Angels.

From here to there.........................


















...from iron to Gold, not here but elsewhere. In the Place where golden things belong.



From door to door. What could one add, or take away, that would make it other than what this Age would be. The crumbling of all those imperfect pragmatic concepts which lead astray. Which have led far from, across the existential cycles of dust, the solid things made by yearning souls, distraught at times, in their lonely exil.

For each Universal Concentric Cycle there is a corresponding Continental State : What is wrought becomes,
and then wittingly or unwittingly undoes its perplexe dissatisfaction.

The spiritual warrior abides above the riddled fainting images
He stands, even when he has been beaten to the battle turf :

He shakes from his primal face, as he goes from door to door
What clings to the Immaculate Beloved !

To Be Humble, To Humble and Be Humbled !

                                                                                                                Jesus respondit : 

Regnum meum non est de mundo hoc : Si ex hoc mundo esset regnum meum, ministri mei decertarent ut non traderer judaeis : nunc autem regnum meum non est hinc !

                                                  Evangelium secundum Johannem xviii

                                                              

Jesus answered, My kingdom is not of this World : if My kingdom were of this World , 

then My servants would have fought body and soul for Me, and would not have had Me delivered  to the Jews : but as it is, My kingdom is not from this place !

Jésus répondit : Mon royaume n'est pas de ce Monde : si Mon royaume était de ce Monde,

Mes serviteurs aurait combattu bec et ongle pour Moi, et n'auraient pas permis que Je sois livré aux Juifs : mais comme il n'en est pas ainsi : Mon royaume ne peut avoir lieu ICI !

Here upon this mountain, the highest in the world, whose summit no one has ever reached, were the sacred treasures and secrets concealed from the place where sin has spread among men. The water, the island, the towers, are all to guard these treasures. By the water up there are all things refreshed and renewed. The river flowing from it, whose waters all noble people venerate, has the power to strengthen the Will; therefore is it esteenmed more highly than any worldly wine. All immortal men, all true things have come down from above, and all that is to be secured from destruction is there preserved !

                                                        

                                                               Anne Catherine Emmerich

                                                            

Ici sur cette montagne, la plus haute du monde, dont le sommet n'a jamais été atteint, étaient cachés des trésors sacrés et des secrets. L'accès en était interdit à ceux du monde où s'était répandu le Mal parmi les hommes. L'eau, l'isle, les tours, sont là ensemble pour garder les trésors. Grâce à l'eau là-haut toute chose était rafraîchie et renouvelée. La rivière qui y coulait et dont les eaux sont vénérées par tous les peuples nobles, a le pouvoir de fortifier la volonté. C'est pour quoi, elle est plus estimée que tous les vins du monde.  C'est d'en haut que sont venus tous les immortels, et tout ce qui est vrai. Et tout ce qui sera préservé d’annihilation y trouvera sa demeure ! 

                                                                Anne Catherine Emmerich

Satan is not a godsend, a precious gift which the Divine would make to noble warriors. He cant be a godsend because God only sends what He sees and the awareness which accompanies truth, the lightning which strikes the dead things that would blind my eternal eye. Satan is the opposite of Grace. Satan is the one struck by lightning. This lightning flash distills from the vulgar mind, which suppreses what is supernal, what belongs to Him. 

Without this bright gift it would be as if God ignored His kind, acted as if He  had no reason to be, and this would be as if to say, God had forgotten Himself, as if he had lost all vital intention, and all things in an instant would no longer be !

This is Holy Saturday.

...and what He loves He cannot forget. That which He loves, prevails. That which He sees is, and the Spirit will come back to the Man in the Tomb.

...all those terrible holy battles we fight, when the diabolical "spirit" thinks only of  cheating and lying and to be clever, will with Time show, to what extent a high and invisible place has been assigned to the holy begotten.

...and my feet do not slip, and I have taken root in the Holy Earth.

When demon people hate others for what they are intrinsically or seemingly, we in turn can only hate what we are not : those empty places where our innate and majestic qualities have been forgotten, empty places that can only pertain to mortal men.

Why be afraid of automatons, and their pressing multitude. The Astral World can only crush what I hold on to in a spectre world.

The humble minded searches within himself to break open the heart, to tear up from its spiritual dirt, those narrow slits which the sly and petty  have managed to astrally poison.

The devil is not the humbler. To humble is to punish Hell's useless dust, to cast out something which infects from the inner outside of things, the pur substance which clothes the Holy Body.

He who is humble by humbling, does not humiliate, spares those who shall not be burnt in the Final Battle(like Lif and Lifthrasir in Ragnarok), because no matter how very much Evil and its denizens might hurt or want to insult what is Humble, they somehow unintentionally make him more august : his soul is attached to the Central Pillar which maintains all and every living thing, alive. He is ever enduring, like the thrust of a sword which would penetrate to the other side. and even then he shall not be killed. He will but barely let go an instant. What resists shall be done away with, but the humble have nothing to lose, being in a state of inner abandon, knowing innately, their kingdom cannot be, among the dead blind souls.

Surely, it is frightening to speak of such things, and some if not all sacred mysteries must be aproached cautiously with great reverence, but yet whether it be electronically or by writ in paper books, the devil will find you be assured, be it in mind or body, till the coming end of all life in our pratical and superstitious world. That which is Holy cannot be sullied. It is only make believe,... even if it really does hurt !

A Definition Should not Include the Term Being Described

We create conditions with something we dont quite understand and find out that we cant solve what we were looking for !

We use up our minds, our bodies and our Soul, and just cant wait to find out what's going to come next.

For the deviate man, Creation is something other than himself. He's thrilled by the mess he's made within it, surely his world cannot have been created by a  Worthy and Compassionate God.

His riches are built on the misery of others, but it's for their own GOOD, and OURS. The red light and the green lights, the metal doors, the dark city streets, gay bars and western liberty....the little and very big bombs smashing to bits all those little Yemenites. It's for Freedom.  It's all for democracy and free exchange: better to buy petrol, dont think about where it comes from: have we been including in the prices, the death of all those backward people, who aren't just as educated as our freely elected Leaders?

But you're not any fun, you dont like to party and screw liberated girls ! We love our life our kids and holidays. 

Rabat-joie !

L'Innocent entre Humilité et l'Humiliation

L'une des nombreuses qualités chez le type Aryen est celle de l'humilité. Mais avec la sincère clarté qui habite son regard aux yeux clairs, cela amène parfois à des mésententes fort embarrassantes, et surtout pour celui d'en face qui aurait le cœur impur ou indécent, car qui peut parmi ceux et celles qui sont chétifs d'esprit supporter l'innocent regard qui voit, sans par là, se faire juger de toute leur vie de triche et d'affectation. Même si l'Aryen a commis des erreurs dans sa vie, il se les encaisse et persiste en dépit du tout, malgré les vents défavorables qui ébranleraient avec facilité la paresse des âmes lymphatiques, fréquent chez le non-aryen. Mis à terre ou ignoré, l'Aryen, comblé de baffles, résistera, assis sur le siège de son trône céleste et perdurera dans l' Innocence, car sans elle, cette Innocence, ce serait comme marcher sans avoir des pieds et parler sans pourtant être pourvu d'une langue ! Pour lui cela va de soi, sans parole il ne prendra plus la parole, si l'Innocence n'est plus le maître de sa demeure.

L'humilité est l'aliment, la substantifique moelle de l'Innocent. I'Innocent rit comme un enfant et ne peut jamais se moquer d'autrui; cela lui est une impossibilité. Le Prophète Mahomet, lui-même dans un de ses hadiths, condamne la moquerie. Jamais chez l'Aryen l'on ne tourne en dérision si ce n'est le comportement condescendant et indigne, mais jamais il n'agresse la personne ! Est-ce, une faute si chez celui où a été obscurci le divin intellect, le type Aryen le lui reproche ? Mais à mon avis , s'il en est ainsi, il est déjà trop tard pour convaincre le sourd d'oreille, de sa perte d'innocence, celui-ci n'en a que faire, il est trop tard, il n'y a rien à y faire: qui n'a pas l’Eternité qui l'engendre ne peut être de même sang et n'a pas la dégaine d'un immortel. Le non-aryen est, si tant est que cela soit possible, un individu  damné. Ceux dont il fait parti, dans le Qur'an on les appelle Le Peuple du Feu, et le Christ de dire, qu'ils étaient les Enfants du Malin!

L'Humilité accompagne le discernement et n'a rien de crapuleux, elle abhorre l'Usure l'Argent et l'Or. Elle est l'état de l'être primordial qui au commencement du Monde voyait la divinité, car il était son égal dans l'Innocence ! 

Le crapule le bourgeois le petit bourgeois le prolétaire vit de l'humiliation de l'Innocent, voyez ce qui se passe depuis tant et tant d'années en Palestine, ce qui s'est passé en Libye, ce qui se passe en Ukraine et en Afghanistan et en Syrie, et chez les autres peuples où on a massacré sans honneur ni vergogne leur souveraineté, leur honneur, leur Droit de vivre dans et selon le Temps qu'ils choisissaient eux-mêmes d'après les critères de leurs Dieux!

La pratique de d'humilier un autre, est l'arme du couard. Il ne connaît pas la franchise et souvent nie la parole donnée, il esquive quand il peut et se moque de celui qui en a une. Il le considère comme une poire, comme un naif comme quelqu'un, de pas très Malin !  Il lui faut à ce prétentieux, afin d’asseoir ses ambitions, Le Contrat Social, Le Pacte ou un Traité d'Entente ! ...il lui faut une signature dans le sang ou avec de l'encre, sur du parchemin ou sur du papier, et bientôt on y arrivera avec de l’électronique; il ne connaît pas  Les Paroles qui ont du Pouvoir, le pouvoir de la Parole il ne le connaît pas, ce que c'est ! Il demande qu'on signe puis prend le sang de l'Innocent et l'engage dans des péripéties qu'aucun Aryen n'eût pu imaginer !

Les serviteurs de l'Humiliation d'Autrui croient dans le puissante fantasmagorie du pouvoir de l'achat et ne savent pas que le Fils de l'Homme ne vit pas que du pain. Chez l'Innocent, ou l'Aryen  l'humilité côtoie la Fierté et c'est la Fierté qui comme une lanterne éclaire la Route de l'Innocent. Il ne sera pas abattu par la méchanceté des Golems de Jéhovah ! 

Il n'y a que l'ignoble intéressé obsédé du gain qui traiterait un autre comme merde, qui prendrait autrui pour une merde, car pour lui tout ce qui vit est l'objet d'une minable et méprisable spéculation. C'est pourquoi l'argentier de race, le commerçant des êtres vivants n'est pas un être royal ni ne mérite aucune considération. Il voudrait tout déshumaniser, dévitaliser en tout et par tout, toute la Création, et ne chercherait enfin que la paix de son ventre et l’orgasme de son bite. Il n'y a qu'un golem qui prendrait un autre pour un goy ! Un moindre que réel, un déshonneur non-conforme.

L'Aryen doit de lui-même juger les vivants et les morts

avoir du discernement,

c'est son devoir, il doit protéger les siens.

Il est, à n'en pas douter, le témoin de l'Innocence 

devant son Dieu.

Il n'est pas un essuie-pied,

de lui on n'en fait pas une paillasson !

  

Al-Ghazali on the Abysmal World and Divine Energy

                        

Al Ghazzali came to my little house, here in the hills and knocked at my door. I opened it, there he was, the great Islamic Theologian and he said to me, "As Salam, I've got to tell you something that's just happened. Throughout the night it has been bickering at me. God said to me, go and see your friend Daniel, otherwise known as Abdullah and tell him what you must. Therefore I came as quickly as possible. If I dont tell it to you, I might forget, and then what'll I do ? To remember certain things is such a difficult painful task, that it is better I come to see you right now, better than later !  

I said to him, wa alaïkoum salam wa rahmatoulahi wa barakatou. Come, sit down, and I closed the door. It was April 2015. I served him some coffee, just like he liked it, infused with some artemisia, with lots of sugar, some goat's milk as well.

Since several days now, there was like this white powder in the sky, covering everything , at night it hid the stars, at daytime it burned the skin and made us tired, making breathing somewhat difficult. Al Ghazali told me, that Shaïtan was going to go even further, now a days, in order, thanks to our magnificent technologies, to ensure that the corpse of the earth would become a hospitable place for the demon people of tomorrow,

After all, he told me, the devil was very pleased with the way things were developping, the technological advances or inhumane sciences that were at large reassured him, he said, the devil told me himself how happy he was with the sloppy morality of all our democratic societies, how wonderful it was to see so many stupid people incapable of reason deciding on important matters. Al Ghazali laughed. He said to me, "you see my friend, at that very moment I understood the happy mess he was in, and I couldn't help thinking how really idiotic and conceited this poor devil of an angel was with his ridiculous charred wings.

I said to him, but the devil, what is he who is he does he look like us somehow ?

The devil lives in an abysmal world, a mind set that would be unsettling for you as well as for me. He cannot possibly know nor conceive what it would mean "to be alive", to think and aspire to greatness, the poor bum doesn't even suspect that he cannot mesure appropriately the magnitude of little things, which cannot be lent or bought or sold nor borrowed; yet he would do away with us, he would have us annihalated, turned to nothingness !

You and me and even my dear wife,...how many times has the world with all its imps and desecrated human images wished our downfall, desired our disappearance! Turned its back on the noble suffering, and spat on the noble pride which must keep us going even amongst Hell's damned children !

No! ...he doesn't look at all like us. His family and those who do, are not human, but have our ressembling features, they have eyes and noses, mouths, brains and ears, but God cannot be in them, they are but a tissue of organic lies. He and his family come from nowhere, Aïn Soph is his home. Truth does not know him. This is why he always wants to destroy all that is simple, proud and good. That which has Immortal Life ! His world is an abyss, an abysmal world where no kindness, no compassion no thriving to love can be, he mocks honour, personal strength and the Power to defie Death. He is the Supreme Non-Entity, the bureaucratic coward, the "thing" which belongs to the state, he hates all Ethnic Pride, he has no sense of brotherly courage. He cannot dare, is the opposite in Nature of all Aryan peoples.

He cannot like us and will always hate all our kind. He and his kin are envious of what we are: truly human yet worth more than all the invented lies distilled  each day by all the good deed doers and indoctrinated social care ladies.

But I must tell you why I came. Our Lord, subhana wa ta'ala, whispered in my ear this very night while I was at prayer during al witr. He said, tell Daniel, that in his heart there is a throne and only my angels can stand beneath its chair. Nevertheless, he is the one that must play the tune. He must assuage the fluttering in his cage, I'll do the rest. After all he and I are each the other's self, and must understand together, that there is only One Divine Energy in him.

...and the demons do not know this.

What am I and What is in Me ?

Down in the dark underneath in the midst of an abandonned mode of becoming, if I am to fathom myself, to know my Lord, I must go down under to the bottom of myself, even as a silly bad boy between strange toys and monkey-men, these golaïm that seem and yet are not, beautiful.

Only Nature, in her right honourable and daring place, is Beautiful. The rest of it, what I imagine to see is just so much empty dross covered with filth, and a manicuring of ugly nails. 

What am I ? ...the death of knowing or perhaps a certain unknowing. A death to all and to myself ? The death of others, what I was and what others wished I might become ! 

I am unfathomable and what is in me and belongs in me, there I see it, once this broken waste of combats will have ceased. The dividing of whole milk to churn the wholesome cream. The Aqua Fortis which carries the one and unique self across the straits of this apartheid which would diminish the blond roots of all Aryans.

Go my freind down underneath, go further, the heavens await you inspite of the deviant and selective bestiality of mortal men. Go, and fight till all your royal blood uplift and hold to your magnificent soul, even unto the doors of Death !

Fill Hell with Heaven's Fire, and take away all shame from over above your head and from beneath under your feet.

Un Corps de Beauté Radiant issu des Déchets du Monde

 L'approche d' une mauvaise science se fonde a fortiori sur un point de vue organique, qui lui-même est intéressé ou conditionné par une "école", dont l'instrument d'analyse interprétative n'est autre que l'interdépendance des molécules organiques qui structurent et composent ce même instrument et qui plus est, l'objet des spéculations !...et le serpent se mord la queue, puis se gausse de joie.

La bonne Science ne s’acquière par aucun moyen mécanique, mais évidement elle ne se définit qu'à la mesure où mon corps mondé soit régi par un esprit saint qui se libère des entraves lourdes et gangueuses. Autrement dit il faudrait en quelque sorte que la science acquise par ce moyen soit un fruit produit par un esprit éternel qui se situerait en dehors, à l'extérieur du Kosmos, ou l'Ordre Universel Harmonique. C'est de dire que l’œil éternel qui voit tout, serait l'essence réellement consciente d'où émanerait une interprétation juste du Monde. Car il est à l'origine de ce qu'il voit, d'ailleurs ce qu'il voit, émane de son regard. 

Or, il n'y a que la divinité qui soit l'interprète juste, et toute mauvaise science enterrée ici dans ce vacarme biologique prétendument abandonné de Dieu, serait à la merci même d'une certaine logique moléculaire, pour ainsi dire, aurait les yeux plein de boue ayant toujours comme base de ses spéculations fracturées, les sables mouvants des ombres qui l'environnent dans ce royaume où on respire le mortel !

"Speirai SOMA PSYCHIKON, egeiretai SOMA PNEUMATIKON !

"Semé CORPS de substance PSYCHIQUE (c-à-d, ayant une âme, autrement dit un vaisseau fait d'astralité et des passions des dieux inférieurs),

On ressuscite CORPS FAIT DE SOUFFLE !

                                                                         1 Cor. XV: 44 de Saint Paul

Il n'y a aucune méthode ou technique de gymnastique mentale ou physique employée dans ce monde de mauvaise science qui serait apte à donner un accès au Royaume, où Dieu se tient ineffable! L'accès est heureusement gratuit et ne coûte rien, seule la Grâce qui est aussi en même temps une Gnose, donne une science sûre et efficiente. Qui prétend vendre une méthode au moyen d'un plan, ou vante une école de réalisation spirituelle, te vend du vent ou te souhaite voir devenir le prisonnier corps et âme, de son égrégore de sangsue, ou à un ange à la fenêtre d'Occident.  

Le triumvirat de notre corps de gloire, a de lui-même les 3 principes nécessaires pour sa constitution harmonique depuis son inauguration au plan supra-céleste jusqu'à dans sa formulation grossière dans les entrailles infernales du monde des particules de poussière infinitésimale. Pourquoi aller donc nourrir de son essence l’égrégore d'une loge ou de loges, pratiquer leurs rituels, écouter des sornettes sur une soi-disant hiérarchie initiatique (milieu habité d'entités lémures ne cherchant perpétuer que leur corps de fantôme dans un entre-monde de vampires invisibles), et troquer sa libre pensée ? ...alors que sans rituels ou une quelconque méthodologie on puisse participer à une Gnose de Grâce, grâce à l’intégrité de ses intentions les plus spirituellement personnelles. On pourrait ne pas communiquer avec des Égrégores, mais avec la réelle substance spirituelle de l'Empyrée ! Et cela seulement avec sa Personne Triumvirate, créée par Dieu depuis toute l’Éternité; Ananda Coomaraswamy appelait ça, "le Seul et Unique Seigneur qui transmigre".   

Or, c'est ce corps qui s'extrait des déchets du monde des cadavres, certes, parfois pour renaître encore hélas, encore une fois comme "être mortel", encore une fois au milieu des magmas de demain dans d'autres mondes de conflits, quelque soit les "multiples états de l'être" dans des vases de terre d'une densité autre, dans d'autres 'lokas' ou lieux d'incarnation 'dimensionnelle'.

Mais, il est vrai qu'il faudrait suivre les Règles de l'Art qui sont déterminées par des Règles de la Nature, qui est elle-même issue du Triumvirat de l'Esprit ou Souffle.

Le vent souffle où il veut, et tu en entends le bruit; mais tu ne sais d'où il vient, ni où il va. Il en est ainsi de tout homme qui est né de l'Esprit.

L’Évangile de St. Jean III: 8

Que l'on soit dans le Monde de la Mauvaise Science produit par des Ecoles qui provient de la mauvaise et intéressée interprétation des choses, ou dans un Monde sans Science, l'on perdure Archétype indemne, le dieu même de nos regards, le seul et unique seigneur qui transmigre, corps de beauté radiant issu des déchets du cadavre du Monde !

                                                                                   

                                                                                      

Le Sang des Nobles et Le Fluide Écarlate de L'Humain Organique

                                  

 C'est un sang éthéré qui coule dans les veines subtiles de l'homme aryen tandis  que dans les replis de la chair de l'humain organique réside en mouvement une espèce de fluide de synthèse composite, de couleur écarlate parfois presque noire et glutineuse. Dans l'aryen agis une forme diaphane, claire traversée par une luminescence de couleur saphir, radiante parcourant ce que d'après certaines doctrines de l'Inde sont appelés les nadis.

Voies luminescentes intérieures aux corps physiques qui n'existent activement que dans l'être noble et bon. Chez l'individu mauvais, il n'y a rien de l'aryen et donc du bon. Le sang de son corps subtil n'est qu'un fluide astral et grossier, manufacturé par le temps sidéral et l'espace stellaire et planétaire concomitant !

Le fluide organique, projection astrale coagulée, est le poison internel qui achemine la foule du peuple selon leur mortelle substance  vers la Mort et vers le Royaume des Morts là où seules les âmes mortes entrent, macabres fantômes elles discourent ou se taisent oubliées aux confins de tout ce qui est vain! Région de la Vanité et Tombeau des Prétentieux. Grave est le mystère, ce puits profond, habitat de la vie futile des mortels programmés. 

Le sang royal du Noble Aryen défie le triste sort du corps terrestre, démonté et oxydé pars les 4 élément en dérive. La lumière occulte de sa nature provient d'un autre monde, qu'on ne saurait transgresser; tant elle méprise le sang mortel.

La transfusion sanguine n'existe pas pour l'être noble, seul le Dieu des Aryens parcourt la monade corporelle de sa conscience homogène.

Le regard de l'Excellence surplombe l'Abyme.

What is Noble and What is Aryan

Being aryan is not a matter of race or of ethnicity. It is something very personal and at the same time otherworldly. Would one be Aryan in nature he or she would necessarily be from another world, yet being in the world without being of it !

To be Aryan is not to be white if that were so then why are there so many of them that are white  stupid and vile, abnoxious and corrupt in there heart and actions !

To be Aryan is to be of the elite of a kind, it is something like the Holy Grail. The Grail Stone is a stone that is very rare, comes from the heavens and is one of its kind. This is so with the Aryan, he or she is the best and the most good and noble by its very nature, and cannot by any means turn into something vile and common(though perhaps the world is always working at it):

an Aryan is neither a democrat nor a republicain, he is neither capitalist nor communist. He needs no religion, but it is religion which is in dire need of his presence, without which so many dormant praticants would be like so many dairy cows !...needless to say, eaten away and consumed by their own "cow" children.

An Aryan belongs to no nation or political faction, though he or she might be engaged in some "militant" activity but the Aryan knows here on this earth in this particular world of worlds that all and everything is "Wind", Loss and Forgetting. 

What he or she knows, needs no learning, the Aryan need not go to any "bureacratic" or state school to become what she or he is:

it is the very God of all Beingness that teaches the Aryan, he hears from the inside and not at all thru the brain, what is and what is not to be done. His moral conscience is beautiful and bright.

There are German Aryans and there are Black Aryans even Red and Brown and Yellow Aryans, and all these Noble Ones are very very very few and far between. It has nothing to do with the physical illusory conditions of all animal life, including the physical form, which would only be the outward and vague appearance of what is a celestial program in its roots.

The Aryan's etheric body is made from a supernal yet dense spiritual earth, an earth so sublte and so heavy that the ignorant superficial nature of our mob of "Charlies" could never notice it, let alone even sparingly intuit its real presence. Only the modest and humble amongst human kind would take any reverential notice, and this because they are themselves the Aryans amidst the "democratic" and impersonal Mob ! 

The Aryan's roots come from what is beyond the Celestial, he is here inspite of all the trappings, belonging to the Demiurgos' guile !

ESSE OMNIUM EST SUPERESSE DEITAS.

Do you see, do you understand now ? It is the immaculate within this dying nature of things where the vulgar non aryan scientists insist with their biologically programmed brain: 

their science is a science of death, based on dying things, is only seen and heard and understood with the mind that was meant to die.

What is Noble is Aryan, what is Aryan is "le Noble Immortel" !

When the Heavens come to Earth

 When the heavens shall have come to the world,  all will be shattered, all previous misunderstandings shall come to an end, all religions shall be futile all civilizations as we know them now and as before, shall have become useless !

The Black and Dark Age of Man will have become no more, thus it has been surmised that there will be a new heaven and a new earth.

Humaity shall have been renewed or have become something else, perhaps all of those who will have been renewed will have become Aryan in nature. For how can there ever be a New Golden Age without being innately so, that is, Aryan ?

When a Preserver of Goodness and Nobility comes to our unredeemable world of shadows  he doesn't come in order to save "this world", or its hypocritical "principles", or even to look upon its cowardly slaves, who think only of obeying their squalid and egomaniacal appetites. He comes in something like the form of the Son of Man, like a Flash of Lightning he hurdles and strikes instantly, dauntlessly. His courage is of a supernal kind, and his power is godly !

Only the brave and noble can go near him. Only those who know that there is a hereafter shall not be frightened. Innocence is a thing not of this world and those creatures who have never deviated from their natural law could never be afraid.

What is clean and noble in the heart can dare to be itself.

Pythagoras and the Earthen Vessels

Most people like the idea of "predestination", "synchronicity", in a nut shell they like believing that this eternal retour gives them a sense of value !

But why ? Ragnarok and the Cycles and Kalpas of Chronos that pinch the so called karmic destiny of man and beast. How wonderful, nothing is a coincidence, everything has a sense, thanks be to God !

But then if one could only out smart the pythagorean monster that numerically imprisons all livings things, not without mentioning all those non living things as well. If only it could be understood that all Magic Squares, all those greek gnomons are so many abstract grids that stifle the life that wants to be !

Platonic polyedrons self combining and self undoing what has just been previously combined. This sounds like Heraklitos and yet it sounds like Heraklitos ! Predestined mummies mixed with lots of amber done and undone eternally.

The earthen vessels of our organic bodies were made to be undone mathematically and to be reconstituted mathematically whether it be with sun in the middle of the heavens or the earth as the outer surface of our Hell. Biologically conjugated and fed on nano-particules we are prisoners of an earthen sky and the stars that are buried knee deep in the mud of corpses !

Imagine, prisoners of an earthly sun with earthly stars to gauck at ! Are we the Pythagorean contraptions of an alienated Geometer, or are we the "pre-destined" Contradiction to this enormous Platonic Machination ?

This World is not at all the Reflection of the True Man

The world is not a reflection of the inner self of men. Man is but a plaything, a silly or tragic puppet,  automatons made on a daily basis by the Demiurgos' actvity !

Man has no power here nor elsewhere and what is hidden in this sphere of being shall become the outward clothing of his or her life to be, in the next. How can creatures who cannot know themselves create anything let alone think anything. Everything that they do or feel has been felt or thought for them before hand !...by something other then what they appear to be.

Only the liberated initiate can will anything and would he really will anything at all if admittedly he were truly a "free being"?

...and yet I believe that no one can be liberated, can a man escape his own shadow? And if so, then where is he ?...and what has he become? Apparently when he is freed he cannot be what he was, nor could he be conceived even remotely for what he had been.

Supposedly, the Gnostics (which ones?) believed that there were three sorts of human incarnation:

the carnal

the psychic

the pneumatic.

I believe that there are only 2 kinds:

the Noble Immortal

and the Dead Living Ignominous One.

Two Gods create Two  Different Worlds:

The True God can only create what is like 

Himself, because He is Aristocratic in nature

but the other one, the Bad and Evil Deity can only 

create animal men and they are deservedly made 

each and every day in his evil image and are but the 

exterior "figure" or shadow of this Bad God, belonging necessarily to the Bad god's evil 

body of knowing. 

If you were happy to be here and felt you belonged then you belong in body and soul to this

very evil divinity !

But if in your heart since the beginning of your terrestrial journey you've always felt 

that there was something amiss and that some how the others you saw around you got it all 

wrong, then more than likely you are an Immortal Noble and you come from the Good and 

True God who gave you the ability to know your Eternity and to strive toward your 

Inner Being !

We fight the Battle of the Gods like silly Punch and Judies. Why ? 

It is better to know "thyself" and to know your Lord and to belong to yourself as you belong 

to your God.

If we dont belong and are not of the stuff of this Bad and Evil TETRAGRAMMATON,

then why let him dictate our will.