Tuesday, June 7, 2011

ZEBULON HAS SEEN IT ALL, BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW EVERYTHING

It is I, the disembodied spirit of the West. It is Zebulon. Oh, the wonders I have seen, from the giant fungi living far beneath the surface of the earth, to Cleopatra's corpse (I'll dwell on that some other time). The world is changing, both physically annd spiritually. Some blame it on secret societies. But did they ever stop to ponder that if such suspicious congregations were in fact secret, we'd never hear of them in the first place? Do I doubt the existence of such troublesome councils? No, I do not. It is only that the names bandied about by selfstyled finger-pointers only serve to misdirect the living and send them screaming in the wrong direction.

'
Illuminati.' how they love to say that word. Yet clandestine oligarchies do manifest from time to time. Follow the money trail. Look to the enduring dynasties and you shall see them. But does that mean all the wealthy take part and am I saying every long-lived entity is involved? No, I am not. Reality is far more complex than best selling fiction.

Those known to you as vampires realise this. And if you want me to be truthful, they and their most high-ranking familiars comprise a secret society if ever there was one. It's funny, but the eldest among them usually fail to take part. Oh, they know of such shennanigans, much like a teacher knows who's passing notes in the fourth row. Still, they seek not to join in, but rather to guide and direct from above. I suppose the layers of intrigue never end. One man's elite secret society is another's naughty boys' club.  And a powerful Queen to some is just a meddlesome society matron to others.

Renate (in truth, she who you call Renate) knows this. She plays with all the many shadow groups like  a toddler playing with blocks. It amuses her. Yet occasionally she steers them toward positive ends. Jonathon's pilgrimage is one example. She sees it as a means for greater peace and understanding in the lands of the Fertile Crescent. I believe, if I am not mistaken, that other speakers of this wondrous tale echo similar sentiments, but....where do you think they get them?

Here's her plan for the Holy Land (and remember, she was reverent and righteous at least thirty thousand years before the place ever had a name). Let there be two kingdoms. Yes, I said 'kingdoms.' May the western realm be called Israel and the eastern  realm be known as Ishmael. May each be free and master of their own fate, though hopefully wise enough to work together in matters beneficial to both, such as water, trade and the like. The Israelis and the Ishmaelis, Scriptural brothers reunited once more. And do not laugh. Do not mock the Lady Renate. For as that sage wit, Judy Tenuta was wont to say - Hey, it can happen.

So a miraculous figure named Jonathon (the name means 'gift of God') and his equally worthy consort, Sarah (meaning 'princess') will appear in the hidden places of The Land of Abraham. And they shall share their dreams with others, so that the seed  may grow and bear fruit.

I wonder how Renate plans to dress them? Perhaps she's already whispering into the ears of creative types, filmmakers, poets, writers and the like. She's been known to do that. Who do you thing dictated Uncle Tom's Cabin? Who do you think tickled the eardrums of John Locke?

They say a mysterious Cher-like woman dripped out of the ether and into the midst of a Skull and Bones Society metting not so long ago. I wonder what she told those high-ranking, vampiric 'familiars'? Oh, don't be so surprised. What did you think they were? I know she's whispering the 'Scotosh Beedosh' story to Jonathon and Sarah right now. But don't ask me what John Lennon is doing there. He always turns up when things like this start to happen. I'll have to make small talk with some of the Librarians I know in the Halls of The Akoshic Records and see what I can dig up.

I'll bet something's going to 'happen' on The Pentacost (either  the unitarian or trinitarian version). If not then, perhaps on June twentyfirst, the Day of Big Light. Maybe I should seep into the brain of that Howard, or Harold Camping?  Perhaps he knows?..................

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