The parable of, "Exit the Cave"
Ending the Reincarnation Trap, Book 1, by Howdie Mickoski
The following story is found in Chapter 7 of Howdie Mickoski’s book, “Exit the Cave”.
It is said to be written by “Donnie Beige”, but it seemed like just the kind of “parable” I might write, so I include it here and suggest people read the entire fascinating book.
Note: The other post I did regarding Howdie’s book is below.
“IT'S CURTAINS FOR YOU”, by Donnie Beige
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2003, Rome Italy, 7:01 AM
Two hours until the most important meeting of Karl Henrik Jensen's life.
Karl opened his eyes and awoke. As he began to scan the simple hotel room, he began to piece together where he was. Late yesterday evening he had flown to Rome from his home in Copenhagen, Denmark, on a quest of sorts. He checked into this rather simple hotel, which was chosen not for its cheap price, but due to its location. It was just a block away from his scheduled 9AM appointment at the Pantheon, Ancient Rome's most well-known construction.
Of this upcoming meeting he knew very little. Only that a woman would meet him at the Pantheon. He had only been told that she was a “Muse.” He did not know her name, her age, what she looked like, what she did, or even what she would wear. How could he spot her in the crowd? Would she be able to spot him? He was only told that she would begin to reveal pathways to answer questions on the nature of reality.
Reality!
This subject had been troubling him for decades. Ever since the death of his older sister fifteen years ago, things at times spiraled into places he had never thought they would go. Questioning this reality, its value and even its realness had caused him many sleepless nights. It kept him searching in texts of philosophy, spirituality, religion, hell even the self-help and vegetarian isles. Karl had spent years studying everything he could on the subjects of wisdom. He went to Zen temples for zazen, read books on alchemy and shamanism, tried lucid dreaming, looked into Qi Gong and Yoga, and he even bought crystals and books by Tony Robbins. He wondered where it had all taken him, wondered if these so-called teachers had been caught thinking they had reached a pinnacle, but did not know the mountain continued.
Karl's life changed seven months ago when he ran into a very strange man in a bookshop in the Danish city of Hillerod. He had intended to be in the city once a month, to visit the alchemic castle of Fredriksborg Slot. It was like walking into a book by John Dee or Marsilio Ficino, yet instead of words on a page it was carvings on the ceiling and paintings on the walls. After his visit on this particular day, he stopped by Bog and Ide, the local bookshop just down from the library. There, while leafing through a text on Chartres Cathedral, he met the man who would become a constant coffee companion, walking Karl through his own inner world of exploration. While not having total grasp of things himself, Karl became convinced that Rikard (who lived and worked as a simple shopkeeper) had gone to great depths. He had read texts and been in touch with organizations Karl had never heard of, and he wondered if Rikard was making this up to impress him (an idea he eventually dismissed), or if he had in fact reached some real place of knowing. Certainly not total knowing, but far beyond any book, teacher or organization Karl had come across. Then Karl got a surprise.
Just five days ago Rikard informed him that a close friend of his was waiting to be his guide to explore reality. She would be at the Pantheon at 9AM Thursday morning waiting for Karl. All his queries on who she was, what she wanted, what she did, even why does it have to be Thursday, were rebuffed. The information was simple: Be there Thursday at the Pantheon and see where the adventure takes him, or remain in Copenhagen and continue his life of much seeking and little finding. It took Karl only hours to decide what he needed to do.
To satisfy his deep search for answers to the burning questions: Why does this world seem so insane? Why is there so much suffering? Why does nature need to eat itself constantly to survive? Why is everyone born ignorant, un-remembering of anything prior? Is this realm a prison? He took a week off work, got a plane ticket, booked a hotel, and headed for Rome. Could this mysterious woman really tell him, in. . oh no, it's 7.30! Karl realized he had to shower, change and get some breakfast. He was going to be 100% early for this appointment. He rose from the bed feeling a strange mixture of sensations, tedious from the years of his inner searching, trepidation about what might come next and seduced by the idea that he finally might find something valuable.
In an hour and thirty minutes he might finally to get some answers.
8.22 AM
The Muse stood quietly, yet confidently at the bar of the Cafe Eustachio just by the Pantheon. As she sipped her morning espresso she wondered if the mysterious Dane will, in fact, show. An elderly man bumped into her in the crowded conditions.
“Mi Scusi,” he responded, as he moved towards the door.
This cafe, and others like it, have been a part of Rome's morning ritual for decades. The Muse no longer got as bothered by people any more, she knew most of those she came in contact with were not really people anyway.
Rikard had provided her with some background details. Her inner seeing provided the rest. He was closer to real answers than he thought. He just needed a good push, to stop staring at the moon and go right towards it.
The Muse contemplated the old Taoist phrase, “A finger pointing at the moon is not the Moon. Don't get focused on the finger.” She laughed lightly into her warm espresso. Almost no one understood what that metaphor was really driving at. There were all sorts of romantic and simplistic ideas about it, but what it really was ‘pointing at’ was something the average seeker was not too interested in finding out. Yet, for better or worse, the Muse knew exactly what that phrase meant. It was not a smile warning of misdirection. That finger could have been pointing at any object, but it was pointing at the Moon. This was the key element everyone missed. Why the Moon? When that was understood, the entirety of the statement finally made sense.
A quick check of her watch revealed the time. She wanted to be there a good half hour before his arrival, to have a survey of the location, to ground with the energies of the space. To the Muse the Pantheon was her personal temple, a house in stone built just for her, and she wanted to be ready to spot the unknowing visitor to her realm the moment he entered.
8:59 AM
Karl looked at his watch when he first stepped through the open bronze doors into the circular dome-like building at 8:37. There were perhaps fifty people already inside, half of them female. He had a one in twenty-five chance of guessing The Muse. Was she even here? Would this turn out to be just an elaborate disappointment? He decided to put those thoughts out of his head and get back to looking at where he was. The Pantheon in Rome, he was awed by the mysterious and sheer beauty of the construction when he was here on vacation three years ago with his then girlfriend, Anna. She lived in Hanover, Germany but the distance between them had made things difficult to keep. . Why was he thinking about this now? All that mattered was that he was back, and whether or not there was a Muse; and whether or not it would be beneficial to his understandings, he should simply enjoy being back in one of his favorite buildings. He wouldn't check his watch again, simply allow himself to be here.
Karl was staring at the hole when he first felt the presence of ‘the Muse.’ Not any hole of course, but a very important one that would, in fact, come to symbolize much of the rest of his life. That hole was the one in the ceiling dome of the Pantheon, the very place he was supposed to be at 9 AM. He did not need to look at his watch again; somehow, he knew it was nine, and she was right on time.
“Quite the thing, isn't it?” She asked.
“The dome? Yeah. I just keep staring at it.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“The dome or the hole? Either way, no.”
“It's not a hole, it's a portal, a gateway.”
“Like to another dimension?”
“Something much better actually.”
The Dane dropped his gaze finally, to get his first look of the mysterious woman he had been waiting a week to meet. She was shorter than he expected, yet she was not short. She was younger than he expected, yet she was not young. In fact, it was hard on first glance to pin down anything about her. She seemed somewhere between 35-55, her light brown hair hung just at her shoulders, while wearing a long-flowing summer dress. She also was carrying the smallest purse he had ever seen a woman have. Could she even get her house keys in there, he wondered?
“So here you are. I wasn't sure if you were going to show,” she smiled.
“I wasn't sure if you were going to show.”
“Understandable.”
“So, do I cal you The Muse? Sounds like a strange name for a birth certificate.”
“Birth certificates are just things that put us in bondage and slavery, a type of water baptism, which is a reason the Cathars rejected John the Baptist. Do you know much about the Cathars? No? Well, we wil have to change that. But I do have a birth certificate, no way around it in this reality. I am human in case you were wondering, and I do have a normal name… Well normal for the place that I come from. But for today you can cal me Marie, after the muse for Pablo Picasso. Not a big fan of his work, but he was a big fan of muses.”
Karl was already coming to like this woman who wanted to be known as Marie, whoever she was.
“But that is not real y al that important… A name is a name. It is this building that is important. Look at everything, every pillar, every piece of stone, every geometric layout. They are al important to the overall function. But it is that dome,” motioning upwards, “and that hole that is the… how is it said in English… piece de resistance?”
“Isn't that French?”
“I was joking Karl. Don't be so stiff, only corpses are stiff.”
Karl knew what Marie was referring to. He had, in fact, become quite stiff the last several years. He was not always this way. He had enjoyed his football matches when he was a teenager, bike rides down the canals, evenings at Tivoli. He decided to not go into this subject, and instead focused on where he was.
Still staring at the hole in the domed ceiling Marie remarked, “We think there is only one entrance and exit point to the Pantheon, the giant bronze doors in front of the Egyptian pillars. You can think of that entrance as birth and death. When we enter here it is a type of death, and when we leave a type of birth. That is why it is cal ed Pantheon, house of all the gods, for it is the house of this entire realm. The roundness of the structure makes it similar to a native Indian sweat lodge. In fact, that can be another way of looking at this place, a sweat lodge in stone. However, there is another entry and exit point. The hole in the ceiling. But it is not a birth and death into the material as the front door suggests; that hole is like the top of a sweat lodge, and is a link between the entire physical reality and the realm of what you might call the spirit. Or simply, that which is beyond the physical world of matter, the world we enter when we die. You also could say that in here is the world of lies, Plato's Cave. Does it not appear somewhat cave-like, or could be that way? With the right techniques could an entire display of the Plato's Cave analogy not take place right here? The hole in the ceiling is the exit out the cave. The plasma energy needed for that to happen is immense, and the body needs to be ready to handle it if you are going to try to exit while still alive . Leaving through the bronze doors just births you into a new cave, where that hole leads, symbolically of course, is real Totality. Out the exit is something that even all our greatest gods and beliefs are no match to explain. Out there is where our soul comes from.”
“How did they make it.,” Karl asked while gesturing to the dome?
“How they made it is not important. Who really made it, when and why are. Certainly not some made up emperor cal ed Hadrian. He gets credited with anything in the Ancient World no one can explain, a simple way of covering over questions about the past everyone should be asking. If you studied plasma energy you would recognize this building as an energy machine, and the area from the floor to just above that hole creates a most powerful plasma charge. The higher you move from the floor, the higher the energy.”
“Are you a scientist?”
“No, but a type of researcher you might say. Only I research everything.”
“Even plasma?”
“Even plasma. I know Rikard has been speaking to you about the Demiurge and archons. As such, we need to think clearly about our reality. It is all about the harvest of energy, Karl. That is the answer to the age-old question: ‘What is the meaning of life?’ That we, and al other creatures here, have been made in such a way that our energy can be harvested directly by the system. Harsh facts to come to, but if you honestly look at the suffering of this world, the way it never gets better, the insanity of it all, the way nature behaves; an energy farm is about the only logical honest answer. The challenge those in control of this entire realm have had, is to find the best energy harvest system. The way the world is now is not the first version of this place. We have gone through several… what's a good word? Revisions. Stripping down the simulation and in some way starting all over.”
“What do you mean start over? Is this what the ancient flood stories are about, this type of, what did you cal it?”
“Revision. Reset is another word.”
“Reset? Like if my alarm clock was set for the wrong time, I have to reset it?”
“That's the idea. When the first world farm was set up here, you might say the first program in the simulation; there was not that much direct control, and that first system did not provide the energy needed. A computer needs power. Think of what a computer powering not just this realm, but all the astral and dream realms needs? It is a massive amount of energy since the first run did not give them enough, they tweaked it. They found that conflict and suffering created even more energy, that it was best to keep the animals under complete control, so the sheep don't think of jumping the fence. When the Demiurge figured this out, maybe 5,000 years ago, the old system was squeezed in. Things such as government, religion, agriculture and commerce were added. Is it not odd that they al sort of spring up together all at once? And to top it all off, they took over the planets, which are not planets at all, but the broadcast centers. The broadcasted frequencies are designed to lock humans into the very systems that were just introduced. Some people went along, some didn't. Those who didn't, mainly native civilizations living close to nature, were eliminated by warfare against them.”
“That's a pretty out-there theory.”
“I know, but what if it's true?” she smiled and winked at him.
Karl was not at all been prepared for this. He thought she might have been more like a female version of a Buddhist monk or something. Not this. Just ten minutes after meeting her and he already felt blown over. And now she was winking at him. “I need to sit down, I need to regain my center,” he thought. But Marie did not give him a pause; she continued her frontal assault on all his long-held belief structures.
“This reality is an insane mess, it's a very cruel world. Just think how an abandoned dog or cat feels for the rest of its life, left out to roam alone aimlessly by its owner, and all it wanted was to be with them and share a life with them. Seeing those animals on the street is tragic to me. Start to see that, in one way or another, all of nature has all been abandoned. One whole world just abandoned from everything. It has always been an insane mess, just to varying degrees. One part of the mess has been to convince people that there was once a time when everything was wonderful and it could be that way again. But this is a simulated computer world, created from an AI Demiurge's design. It never gets better. The experiment runs as the experiment has been designed. Yet people keep waiting. Make no mistake, there are millions out there today waiting for Jesus, a new political figure, fifth dimension ascension, or whatever to save them. And when the saving doesn't come, it’s always because, ‘it is just around the corner, the next solstice, the next election’. . whatever.
“This realm is a deception of hope. We have been placed in a virtual reality simulation, one designed to keep everyone enslaved, so that our energy can be mined by the beings who created this place. Then on top of that, one of the very things that could help us get a grasp on this insane prison-world… our perception… is constantly being hijacked and manipulated so no one is ever seeing reality clearly. Given everything we have been told about this world is on some level a lie, the only real way forward is to throw all we have been told in the garbage and start fresh. Right from ‘what is a human being and where do we human beings come from, to what is the point of being one?’ Humans have more power than we can even imagine, just not the type of power our self-important minds hope to achieve.”
Karl had taken time to hear what she had just said. His forehead hurt. He knew that somehow the combination of the energy she said was in this building, along with the deep knowledge she was presenting, was in some way overloading his brain. Pain stabbed behind his eyes.
“Muse, I mean Marie, I have got a terrible headache… I think I need to go outside. I want to go out to sit by the obelisk fountain.” Marie just nodded as if she understood.
They slowly began walking out of the Pantheon. Karl felt a bit embarrassed that his first meeting with his mysterious Muse ended with him having a headache and needing fresh air. He had been with her less than thirty minutes, and although in a man's body, he felt like a young child when it came to wisdom. They sat by one of the marbled edges of the small fountain, and the coolness of the water spray and the sound of the fountains began to sooth him quickly. It took him just five minutes to start feeling his normal self.
“That was intense in there.”
“I'd say, you had Florence Syndrome in Rome.”
“Florence Syndrome?” With that Karl thought, “Please don't go into another deep conversation right now.”
Marie replied, “I will explain that over a coffee, you need a break, and in Rome that is how you break. After that we have two other key stops to make in our day together. Each of our stops will reveal a direction of work you will have to partake in. Here you have learned about the concept of energy. Next, I must take you to a painting and then to the Vatican.”
“The Vatican… am I meeting the Pope? ” Karl laughed
“Better than that. You are going to have a meeting with some curtains.”
10:18AM
Karl and Marie sat at a small table outside a cafe at the Piazza Navona. From the Pantheon they had walked along Via della Coppella, stopping at this small cafe the Muse seemed to enjoy. The stop for a coffee and a cornetto, an Italian pastry, had been a welcome break for the intense morning that began under the dome of the Pantheon. While conversing, Karl had tried to determine where she was from. They both spoke in accented English, his Danish not yet tempered by the seven years he later would spend living in Wisconsin, but her accent was indistinguishable. It was not Italian, Spanish or even Greek. It was perhaps more of an Eastern European or maybe French. He had asked a few cursive questions to see if he could gain a clue, and while she did converse with him, she was very tight-lipped about any information that might reveal the place of her origin. Mostly the conversation centered around him, his life, his loneliness and confusion, and his seeking of answers that had begun a few years ago.
“Feeling better Karl?”
“Yes, break has been helpful. You said I had some type of syndrome at the Pantheon.”
“Florence Syndrome , or sometimes cal ed Stendhal syndrome. There are three strange city syndromes around the world. One is Jerusalem Syndrome. It is an affliction that can come over people who visit Jerusalem. They get confused and think they are some sort of reincarnated Biblical person and just begin wandering aimlessly in semi-psychosis until leaving Jerusalem completely. Another one comes from Florence, where it is suggested that the artwork causes changes in people. This is true. Take a walk through the Cairo Museum or the Louvre and you will see people who have been there for an hour or two wiped out. The energy which is placed into that artwork has blown them over. That is what happened to you today, as the plasma energy in the Pantheon blew you over.”
“But I have been to the Pantheon before, felt absolutely fine.”
“Yes, but today I was with you pressing Plato's Cave and the confines of simulated reality on you. The two together is what pushed you over the edge. The third of these city types is Paris Syndrome, a sense of disappointment exhibited by some individuals when visiting Paris, who feel that the city was not what they had expected.
That one makes no sense on the surface, but does begin to make sense when seen together with the other two. What is very interesting, is that, it is only these three cities. There is no New York Syndrome, London Syndrome or Berlin Syndrome. Just Jerusalem, Florence and Paris. They are the three cities of the largest historical lies we have. Paris is the original Jerusalem, as you will learn as we go, Florence hides the lies of the Renaissance, while Jerusalem holds the lies that have become the modern Western religions. So, it’s no surprise that people cannot handle these energies. Each city is carrying its own lie and wanting to be heard. If you are not ready for it, it can hit you, sort of like what happened to you today. However, it is the same at Giza in Egypt. I know people who get wiped out after a short trip, and some who go into the pyramids and if not ready can have problems for days. Oddly, there is no Rome Syndrome. There is as much artwork here as Florence and, of course, just as big a lie as Paris. But perhaps like London, New York and Washington, which also have places within the cities of religious, commercial and governmental control, these parasitic entities have switched off the energy in these places.”
“I have been reading for the last ten years, but I see I still have so much to learn.”
“That is true on one level, but you don't need more knowledge.”
“I thought that is what are we all after, knowledge and wisdom.”
“That is what the system centered in those cities wants you to chase. You want Truth and Freedom. That is something very different. Anyone with their head ful of knowledge is never open enough to find the Truth, or better said, have the Truth find them. A head already stuffed with ideas, beliefs and facts has taken a few steps, but will take no more until ridding themselves of them. Intellectualism is another distraction of this realm, and it is one who catches all the smartest of minds. Thus, you need to be smart, yet wise, to know when to stop being smart.”
Karl asked, “what about the people who say that we should just focus on life here on earth, just fully enjoy ourselves all the time? At least they seem to be happy, or happier.”
Marie stretched her back and shoulders slightly. Something about the movement was almost mesmerizing to Karl. Was she hypnotizing him, tempting him, playing with him, or just stretching her back before speaking? Clouds of doubt about this mystery woman and everything she did kept swirling in his mind.
“What does it even mean to be happy? You know, I had a conversation with someone about this topic just the other day. A woman a little older than you said to me 'I am enjoying life. I like what I do, why should I put effort into understanding reality or myself?' So, I said to her, ‘OK, you enjoy your life. But then you are going to die. Are you prepared for what will happen when you die? Have you taken even five minutes to real y find out what? There is a 100% guarantee that you will be recycled back in here. And don't trust these ideas of 'how you live this life determines what you get next time.’ Another way to explain why the controllers have all the money and power and others have none, is to suggest they must have been good boys and girls in their last lives, so I better just focus on being nice, liked and not cause any trouble. No one really thinks they might have actually sold their soul for those goodies. So, just be a good slave. Reincarnation is simply another body. Maybe your next life will be one teemed with suffering. What good would this fun life you are having now be, if you come back into one that is pure hell? There might not even be space in the next life for any thoughts other than how to survive to another day. So, is the bit of fun and happiness you are having now worth it? What good did it do if it al means nothing and you might be back in pure hell next time? Thus, maybe you might want to try a 50-50 approach: 50% of your time is spent enjoying yourself in this realm, the other 50% is spent seeing death fully, so that you can prepare the steps needed to be sure there are no reincarnated hells in your future.”
Karl wondered if the conversation Marie presented was a real one she had, or one she made up for his benefit. Either way it had an impact on him , “I am starting to get this, I think. This body, this thing sitting here talking with you now, it did not get here out of any higher principle, right? I sort of just got stuck in here like a cow gets put in a barn for winter.”
“Just don't think you are evil because you are in a body. Some Cathars got caught in that one. Just because the entire world is evil in its design, does not mean that you are evil because you are in it. We are in it against our wills, having been tricked into entering. As such, we almost have an obligation to be in the world all the while knowing our ultimate goal is to overturn our deceptions and contracts and not come back. This is a contracted reality on so many levels. What you see around you within this place is all contracts, laws. Think how many times you have signed pieces of paper in your life. There are similar ones we sign symbolically, again via deception, that gets us in here and sets up all sorts of pain and control on us. That does not mean we have to hate the world or blow it up, but know it is not real, it is a simulation, not Home, and we enjoy it as we can. I am not anti-meat, anti-fun, anti-sex, anti-coffee, even anti-Christ. Though I am not the Anti-Christ.” She took the last sip of her coffee and smiled.
Karl had to admit she was entrancing him. Not with anything magical or hypnotic, but with simple clear words and soft emerald-green eyes. He did have extra time just to stare at her, not in a romantic sense, but in a sense of 'how to tell how much someone really knew.’ He tried to stare into her eyes casually once in a while as a test. She must have known what he was doing as every time he tried, she looked back towards him with a smirk on her face. He felt like a five-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar every time. She seemed so sweet, gentle, kind and loving. Yet, Karl also knew that was an illusion. One half of a whole. The Muse was also cold, clear and powerful. He knew she was not out to hurt him deliberately, but if he dropped his awareness, at any moment those eyes could drop him into an abyss. She scared the hell out of him.
10.45 AM
The walk to their second stop of the day was not long, and they passed a cathedral opposite the Pantheon, Santa Maria Sopa Minerva. Marie described it as her favourite cathedral in all of Italy.
“Don't let the outside fool you,” she exclaimed. “It looks simple but inside is a treasure trove of wisdom. Much like that castle in Denmark you told me about today. I would recommend you come here tomorrow. But give yourself lots of time. Every inch of this place needs to be examined. And it is not a cathedral, none of them are. Just like the Pantheon, it is an energy center. “Cathode-rals” is a better word for them. It was a book about Chartres that set up the chain of events for you to be here with me today. When you come back to see this one tomorrow here is a clue: This is as close as you can get to the Egyptian temple of Dendera without going to Egypt.”
“But we are not going here today?”
“We are going to a different cathedral close by, and just for one painting.”
The church they went to was the San Luigi dei Francesi (St. Louis of the French). It never has been explained why there is a key church in Rome dedicated to France – but its history is quite fascinating. Supposedly it was designed by the same architect who designed the dome of St. Peter's Basilica, and the land to build it was donated by the famed Catherine D'Medici of Florence. Quite the pedigree to make a church for France.
The inside of the church was magnificent. She walked him far back to a small chapel known as the Contarelli Chapel, to where there are three famous masterpieces. All were created by the painter Caravaggio. Marie presented, “I know you know who painted these, but you will not be aware of what is symbolized in them. We are going to open some curtains here today, metaphorical y speaking. You might not be the same after we are finished. Caravaggio was speaking to all of us with clues.”
She continued, “Al these paintings are of St. Matthew, one of the disciples of Jesus. To the left is the Calling of St. Matthew. Yet it is very ambiguous as to who is being called, the man with the beard or the young man asleep on the table. And of course, the people all wear clothes from the Renaissance. So, just when is the depiction of Jesus living taking place? To the right is another play on themes, that being the Death of St. Matthew when he becomes a martyr in Ethiopia. But we are here for the one in the middle, The Inspiration of St. Matthew. But it is far from any inspiration.”
Karl looked closely at the painting. He had been here on his previous trip to Rome as well, he recalled this small enclave and had enjoyed the paintings with Anna, but now he was being asked to scrutinize them. The Muse was indicating a message was here, a message meant for him. He took an overview of the painting before him. There was an old man to left, obviously St. Matthew, leaning over a table with one knee bent on a stool. On the table was an open book and he is holding a pen, so obviously writing. The rest of the image was just dark, save for an angel floating above him, tunic wisping in the wind (as one assumes the angel is descending) and making a gesture with the fingers. In a sense, the angel seemed to be whispering to him and inspiring his writing. Karl also noticed, almost casually, that just below the angel figure were some light brush strokes against the dark background, almost as if something was there, or had been there, then painted out of the image. It might have even had the head of a bird. At least that is how it all appeared to him on viewing it. He said as much to Marie. He was, of course, not surprised to hear that she had a very different interpretation of the painting.
“I see it very differently of course, but I do like that you picked up the misty figure that is there, but not there. We will get to that. The view you gave is the standard view. Actually, there are two alternate ways to interpret this painting. I will share both. The question really becomes, is this an angel or not? And this is going to take us to the heart of much of this focus. Who or what created and manipulates reality? Beings actually. Beings that are not human, nor have goodness at their core.”
“Aliens then? Like Roswell? Like from another planet.”
“No not like Roswell. That is another misdirection in the whole game, though a misdirection that got somewhat out of control at the time. Something did happen there in 1947, but it was not aliens from another planet showing up; the aliens have been here and been in control for a long, long time. Roswell was something else entirely.”
Marie quieted her speech as to keep from upsetting any of the visitors coming to stare at paintings they would never understand. “To understand what Caravaggio has done here, you must realize that this is his second painting of this scene. His original was rejected by his patron Cardinal Del Monte. Unfortunately, that painting is no longer with us. It wound up in Berlin and was destroyed during the Second World War. Thankful y a black and white sketch of it did survive. You must see it yourself to understand, but I will do my best to explain it to you. ”
“St. Matthew sits in a chair, there is no table. And he is depicted less saintly and much more rugged. You might see him as a rugby player or some other type of athlete. His hands appear so muscular as to make it seem to be impossible for him to write in the book open on his lap. The angel appears beside him, standing on the ground in that painting. The interpreters try to claim the angel is a male, but angels were often female at the time of Caravaggio. She is leaning over the book in a very tempting pose, whispers of flesh seen beneath the light veils she wears, and leans over him, her right hand on top of his. Is she ‘helping him with the writing,’ inspiring him with an infusion of sexual energy. Perhaps. Or is she tempting him, hand on top of his to stop the writing, as if to say, forget that and come spend time with me? Either way, it wil take us to the heart of the Gnostic teachings found in the Nag Hammadi documents. If it is an inspiration, then this is al about the Gospel of Phillip and the nymphion bridal chamber. But this is more likely alluding to the beings they called archons, alien emissaries of the Demiurge, more computer machine like than anything else. They are also cal ed angels. ”
“You are going to say angels are a lie now, aren't you?”
“Angels are most likely not what religion has pushed, but are archons and demonic beings in disguise. Another level of deception on human souls. This will continue into the astral world after one dies, when the final tricks and temptations are played on us. Besides, all these concepts people place their energy towards, such as loving guides, angels, spirit beings and power animals, are all forces outside ourselves that we turn our inner guidance over to? Who is checking if these astral world beings are what they claim to be? Recall the name used for top angels in Christianity; arch-angels. They are archon-angels. The top of the archonic ladder of parasitic-demonic beings. Is that really who you want to turn the guidance of your life over to?”
“But Caravaggio painted a second one as you see here. When you understand that this is not an angel inspiring him, but a demon in disguise as an angel tormenting him, this all makes more sense. There is a possible wispy figure there. That might be the ibis headed Thoth who is trying to use hermetic and alchemic wisdom to overturn the ‘spell’ placed on us by the archon demons, so that Matthew would then be free to write in total clarity and freedom. Or it might be The Eagle, as writer Carlos Castaneda described the creator of this realm (the Demiurge), directly interfering. The element of overt sexuality is now gone from this second painting, which is why I lean more to the demon in disguise theory. This is not a painting of inspiration, but one of manipulation. Or it may be showing that much of what we think as inspiration is in fact a type of manipulation. If you want to see real paintings of inspiration from the worlds outside of this realm you need to make a study of Annunciation artwork. Start with the work of Frau Angelica at the Monastery of San Marco in Florence. Then look at Da Vinci's and Botticelli's and everyone else's version. Caravaggio was focused on something else.”
“So, what do these beings want?” Karl asked.
“Simple answer, your soul. Or we might say the energy that your soul provides. You also could say your awareness and your experiences. The greater answer, to take the energy from us, to power this simulation and keep it running, so souls stay trapped and can be mined for energy. Any computer simulation needs constant power to run, and as you can guess, something this complex needs a lot of energy. It could have been created as a joyous loving place, but that is not what they want, because conflict, confusion and suffering create stronger energy for the harvest. Love and happiness produce energy for them too, but just a lower amount. Generally, as soon as anyone figures this out, they try to fix the world, make it the place of their dreams. Hope guides them. Hope keeps them bashing their heads against brick walls to force a simulation of suffering into one of happiness. It’s a simulation. It was designed in a particular way, and it works the way it works.”
It was easy to see that Karl was getting shaken up again, just as he had been at the Pantheon.
“Don't worry about things too much Karl. The soul is not evil. The soul always was and is pure and complete. But it was tricked to enter a false world that is evil, run by these demonic entities. It becomes so easy for someone, in the midst of suffering, to fall under their trap and start to become like them. Yet you might say everyone who still has a soul can be saved, the soul is pure, only the flesh can be tempted.”
“Those who still have a soul. You mean people have lost their souls?”
“Deep down you know this is not some sort of myth. There are all sorts of stories about singers, actors or politicians who have 'sold their soul to the Devil' for a bunch of material goodies. That is one way, but others have, or will lose it, simply by not being aware enough to what is going on and lose it via ignorance. Rudolf Steiner spoke much about this when he was alive, how those in command of this nuthouse eventual y would create technological devices that first would divorce humans from the Spirit and eventually from their own souls. It is likely to happen in your lifetime Karl, so you better be fully ready to keep connected to your soul at all costs. It is about the only real mistake anyone could make in this simulation.”
She told him about a painting in the Gallery Borghese on the other side of Rome that has another Caravaggio, St. Jerome Writing, or St. Jerome In His Study. He was to pay careful attention to the fact that the person of St. Jerome looks identical to the figure in this painting in the French Church. They are the same person, just given different names. In the Borghese painting the book is there, as is the table, but now there is no angel behind Jerome, while a skull appears on a desk. The skull may represent the egoic self, that must be discarded, or perhaps the skull represents that he has removed the ‘angel-demon’ that was tempting him so it no longer can bother him. The Muse told him that the Caravaggio in the Borghese is “still St. Matthew, but after the ‘demonic forces’ have been rejected or fully repelled.”
“Karl, the good news is that once you understand this at a more complete level, you can see it for yourself and can go into those realms to verify this information yourself. You can become your own psychic, and you certainly do not need any of these crazy drugs out there to do it. Drugs of al kinds are another trap. You can do it all, unravel deception and the soul contracts, unravel the harvesting of energy, regain your mind and clarity, and walk into your Power, which is to exit this realm. The Gnositcs and the Cathars pretty much understood a lot of this. The more you get to know what they knew, the closer you wil be to being able to grasp the secrets of the very few.”
They both stood quiet staring at the painting for a few minutes. That was when she turned slowly towards him, “Karl, I think you are ready for the curtains now.” Marie got the most devilish smile on her face, and Karl was not sure if he should be excited or afraid when she spoke directly into his eyes. “These curtains are going to be the beginning of 'curtains for you.'”
3.51 PM
Karl and his new teacher were standing in the rather crowded space of the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican. They had finished a pleasant lunch of fried artichokes and gnocchi in the Jewish Ghetto. They had a nice calm table in the back, and they spoke very little together, just took in the space and the enjoyment of the food.
But now they were in commotion of one of the world's great tourist stops. A thousand people were all clamoring for space to, as expected, admire the ceiling. Yet Marie knew a secret about the Sistine Chapel.
“You know why we are here, don't you Karl?”
Karl was confused and looking around the crowded space. “You said something about curtains; I don't see any curtains set up in here.”
“Are you really looking closely? Is your awareness sharp? Curtains are very much a part of this mystery. Haven't you inspected the walls?”
Like most tourists, Karl had been focused entirely on the amazing ceiling of Michelangelo. Granted, he also took notice of the far wall, where Michelangelo had painted another masterpiece, this one including himself in the scene (as just a piece of skin). Karl knew it was symbolic for being more than just a piece of flesh. But when she mentioned the walls, he turned his head and looked at the side walls. To his left it fell directly on the giant painting he knew was done by another great artist, Botticelli. There were other famous Renaissance artists on the walls, as well. But then Karl gazed further down towards the floor, until he stopped in his tracks. How did he not notice this? The entire lower section of each side wall was painted with curtains. They painted curtains on the walls. They could have had a Botticelli painting like the row above, but they wanted curtains only. It made no logical sense.
“Most never even notice the curtains, and if they do, it is only for a moment before their gaze goes back to the eye-candy, the ceiling. A way to begin to understand various layers of the reality is to decipher Plato's Cave analogy in modern terminology. So, you might say that there was an original Cave, or you might say an original program, as I mentioned. But that did not do what the Demiurge hoped and they had to lay a second program on top of it. That is what the Zen ‘turtles on top of turtles’ means. It is the veil of Isis, a manipulated layer of falseness to cover the original false layer. And not to scare you, but another simulated layer is being perfected now, to be laid on top of this one… another turtle, another program. It might be ready in twenty or thirty years, and what a mess it wil be for anyone going down that path. It's hard enough to exit in this realm as it is. Do you not see what the curtains are representing? They are the false layer that we deal with in our day-to-day lives. Those curtains are the walls of Plato's Cave, and to experience something more real, one's job is to open these curtains.”
“Are you saying these curtains in here can open? That the painted curtains on the wall can move?”
“Oh yes, both metaphorical y within yourself and on these walls. When you understand that these walls are actual y holographic plates, images on top of images, the Sistine Chapel will begin to make much more sense. Our entire simulated reality has been recreated in here, as was done in the Pantheon. The world has been staring at all the artwork in here for several centuries. And as beautiful as it is, is but a layer. The real messages of the Sistine Chapel are in the holographic layer beyond the outer images. They do open, or we might say dissolve, when you hit the right way to hold your head. This is not about being calm, still, or happy. It is about being in a place where all standard false reality cannot trick you into its realness. Then the veil dissolves and the curtains open - I can't explain it any other way. You can only understand when you have done it.”
“Sort of like the Wizard of Oz.”
“Yes, I had forgotten that metaphor, silly me. To see behind the curtain to what is really going on with reality, and see that a force that no one knew is in control. It is a shocking thing to see finally, which is why almost no one tries to see it. They wall themselves off from ever even getting close to the curtains, as if something has been placed into us to scare us away when we get close.”
“Because?”
“Because humans are powerful beings. We real y are. That is why knowing about these veils and layers is important. These curtains are really walls that have been placed over our power within. We have been manipulated for centuries. We get brainwashed as children in school and by religion. I mean, modern schools make young children think they have to ask some authority figure to go to the bathroom. A world designed around fear surrounds us, and our perception is manipulated constantly. Yet even with all of this, some humans break free of the conditioning, beliefs and fears, to access deep powers to alter this realm. They can heal people or protect people when needed. The real ones who can do this are much fewer than how many claim they can. Given all the veils and layers of this realm, it is amazing anyone can be magical at all. The control ers are scared of our power. It is that power that they harvest and use for themselves, partially because they need it, and partially because they are afraid of whatever would happen if people understood the insane game of which they are a part, and stopped ‘allowing’ their power to be drained away. That is why opening the curtains is such an important symbolic task.”
“Can they open for me if I start to stare at the wall? ”
She laughed. “Not today. You can stare all you want, be as blank-minded as you like, all you are going to see are curtains. A complete transformation is going to be required. That's why I am here.”
“You are going to transform me.”
“Oh no, I can't transform anyone. Only you can transform yourself. What I can do is give you the tips of how to do it. But don't, in any way, think you need to fix yourself. That is another trap out there, the idea that you are not good enough or worthy enough. It is strong and keeps the book sales of the helpers flourishing. Just do work to transform how you perceive, root out all your beliefs, then do not replace them. Start living without any beliefs so you can no longer be conditioned or manipulated as you have been.”
“I have been manipulated?”
“Your whole life.”
“By who?”
“Everyone you have met.”
“Everyone has been manipulating me?”
“Not on purpose. They too, were manipulated by everyone they knew, and so on and so on. Humans just kept passing the missperception from generation to generation.”
“How do I know you are not manipulating me now?”
“You don't. You will have to decide on your own if I am still within the system of reality, or someone who has broken the chains of the Cave and is somewhere else. When you figure all that out, either about me or anyone, then you start to know who exactly to trust. Then it will be your job to follow the pointers, ” she laughed, “to where they are pointing, and get to the other side.”
“The other side of reality, or the other side of these curtains?” asked Karl curiously.
“I don't really see a difference.”