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Project X Newsletter Expanded, issue #41

July 10, 2000

1. Opening Words - Alexander Aldarow
2. The Sweat Lodge - Stephen
3. Lycanthrophe - Fahr
4. Translated Text of Third Secret of Fatima
5. Today's Mail: Alien Visits Ended? - Isaac
6. Asylum of The Undead: Part IV - The Lady In Red - Mark Andrews
7. Glenn Scheper's Website - Glenn Scheper
8. Closing Words

Opening Words    (view on a separate page)
Author: Alexander Aldarow    (all articles by this author)

Things are changing. But nothing changes. And still there are some changes. Le roi est mort, vive le roi.
Good evening, afternoon and morning, wherever you are. Enjoying the millennium's first summer, or is it snowing in your hemisphere?
I am often approached and asked about the reasons me and Rinor have started Project X. I believe the reasons are stated on the website. When we at first were struggling to comprehend the new world that was opening up for us, we have always dreamt to find others, like us, who are developing and evolving on the spiritual realm as well. We needed to be reassured we are not alone on our journey in the Universe.
The Internet has provided us with a strong connection to such individuals. We never stop to amaze at similarities, and yet the outstanding diversity in what other people, who found us and whom we have found, tell us. The friendships we have established have lead us to even higher leaps in our development. And for that I am endlessly grateful to all the people with whom I've communicated for the last couple of years, with more decades awaiting ahead of us.
Our websites, message board, chat room were a magnet to thousands of Web surfers. We became an on-line place, where one comes to share and learn, listen and help, and even have an occasional laughter.
But lately a vulture or two have appeared, especially at the chat, and we had to learn by a hard way what a "harvester" is. As opposed to a gatherer, who brings people together for collective benefit, a harvester summons people for his/her egotistical needs.
At first you try to give him light and love, trying to gently guide, then you try to ignore him, even ban him from the chat room, but they keep coming back, exploding into your face with messages like the following:

"you see... i have some plans for your beloved px... and when i'll finish it, you and your group will FALL DOWN. unless you will act wisely one time for a change and join... and trust me... it's not a dream anymore. you are the corrupted one, and so your px. that group i'm creating is rising as we speak... and when the right time comes you will see what i can do."

PX, of course, stands for Project X. Everybody, meet Eddie Levin, who lurks in the Net by nicknames of 'fallen' or 'oblivion'. Feeding his mind by fantasy role-playing-like concepts and megalomanic desire for self-glorification, he plans to establish and lead a "Golden Dawn"-like cult of mages, with a catchy name of "White Spiral", thus, in his opinion, reassuring that he "will be remembered". First started in Israel, where he plans to have all the Israeli sorcerers and necromancers "on the palm of his hand" (I'm just quoting him, nothing more), he wants to spread like a locust as far as Canada.
Remember what I said two issues ago? They have the knowledge, but not the responsibility? Well, here's a good example for that.
I never had any desire to "join" some single-directed movement, our gates are open to all... unless someone takes an advantage of it. We don't need any mergers/harvesters/vultures with a fixation for grandeur. Spirituality, especially magick, used to gain personal fame will backfire.
And to think that the only thing I wanted to do was to enjoy this summer, my vacation. So what's now, am I supposed to have an open warfare against this deceiving person, who uses fascist "divide-and-rule" tactics against the groups who refuse to give themselves over to him, seeding paranoia and mistrust between friends?
Oh, well, I had to let it off my chest (and yes, I know, maybe I shouldn't have); I am simply against any such secrecy and dark conspiracies. I am open to the cyberpublic, whoever wishes to e-mail me always receives (although sometimes slightly delayed) a response. I take no interest in intrigues, takeovers or mind games. And I have no secret agenda to hide. I am what I am, I do not hide behind false masks.
On with the Project X Newsletter. I've combined this issue with articles of every hue of a rainbow, sent by authors from all the corners of the Universe. Notice that there are two slightly contradictory items - can you guess which ones?
Have a lovely week, my dear friends!!

The Sweat Lodge    (view on a separate page) (more articles about else)
Author: Stephen    (all articles by this author)

I would like to share with you one of my experiences at a sweat lodge.

This particular one occurred the same weekend that I received my first Eagle feather, which I have shared before. It was a three day ceremony celebrating Summer Solstice in the north Okanagan Valley at a place called Rainbow Medicine Wheel Camp.

A beautiful spot nestled in the corner of a meadow, surrounded by trees and beside a small river. The sweat lodge, on the edge of the river was separated from the main lodge, medicine wheel and tipi village by a small tree line about thirty yards wide. The tree line followed a low bog type area, probably a backwash from the river during spring runoff. On the path through this bog they had placed boards to enable access without having to arrive with knee-high mud leggings.

There were two lodges facing each other with a fire pit between them. One for the men and one for the ladies or so it was this day. The opening to the men's sweat was facing east, its back to the river. The sweat occurred on the evening of the first day. My brother Greg and I had arrived just in time to set up our tents and proceed to the sweat, so although we had met the three people who ran the event, Neil, Jeff and Kathy, the rest were new friends and soon to be companions on a wonderful journey.

We were settling down upon cedar boughs, inside the sweat, as eleven stone brothers were being passed in, each to a chorus of "Hau Kola", when Neil, the pipe bearer, announced that this was to be a Warrior's sweat. Raised more than a few eyebrows, I am sure.

Very dark, very hot, thank goodness for the glow of our stone friends. The enchantment and magic had begun.

At the end of the first round it was announced that any who wished to leave for short break in the river could do so. Only one remained inside. While we refreshed ourselves, soaked bandanas or towels to accompany us for round two, one of the chaps noticed a deer coming out of the river on our side a short distance away. I, as I am sure many, thought what a lovely sign. NOT! As the deer climbed up the low bank everyone noticed it was dragging it's rear legs. Gawd, what kind of omen was this. It was surmised that the deer had been hit on a highway about a mile away, and was trying to return to its bed. Neil called two young native grounds keepers to follow the deer and if possible put it down. We returned to the sweat more than somewhat disturbed.

Again settling in, as a few more stone friends were greeted, a voice was heard outside the doorway "Excuse me, my name is Tony. Sorry I am late, may I still participate?" Tony was welcomed and as all peered out the door he set down his crutches and crawled in. Tony was a paraplegic.

During round three the pipe was again passed and opportunity was offered to give thanks and request healing. Tony explained that he had driven around, outside the gates to the camp, before having the courage to enter. And because of his legs had to crawl across the boards on the bog, which took considerable time. He again apologized for being late. He also explained that he was a recovering alcohol and drug abuser and lost the use of his legs in a related accident about two years back. He was interested in helping children and was hoping to heal some of his personal wounds at this event.


What else I remember about the sweat seems insignificant, other than I survived. I do remember clawing at the bottom of the lodge wall in desperation during round three and coming to deal with the darkness in round four.

Gathering together at the end of the sweat, the two young lads returned from tracking the deer. Neil asked them if they had any success. The told us that they got to within about twenty yards of the deer while it watched them. It then turned and slowly went back into the river to be carried away down stream.

The beginning of a magical journey. Tony received his healing. We all received a healing and shared a tremendous love, as we participated in the blessing of and from our Beloved Earth Mother. Neil shared a great deal of wisdom, as did Jeff. Jeff gave me the Eagle down. Kathy was truly an Indian Princess, a Goddess who's dancing and singing around the fire or at the medicine wheel enchanted all. Everyone left that weekend feeling a beautiful bond of love. And overwhelmed with the joy and magic of sharing. I, for one, was never the same again.

I hope that you have enjoyed my little tale and felt some of the magic.

I Am
Your little brother,

Lycanthrophe    (view on a separate page) (more articles about else)
Author: Fahr    (all articles by this author)

The beginning, a proud lycantrophe stands on a mountain and cries out to the world a cry of happiness and joy. The cry is answered and my kind gathers and reproduces and forms a pack. In the line of blood that came from the lycantrophes that started the pack, I was born. I am Fahr, a lycantrophe and a Watcher, but here I write about the lycantrophe I am. My grandfather was one of the full lycantrophes, so were my sister and I. My mother was a sleeping lycantrophe who never knew of a being other than human and my father was human. I found out what I was when I turned six and felt the irresistible force of the full moon. I hid my feelings, afraid I would be considered different. When my sister turned six and experienced the same, she wished not to talk about it, she denied what she was. When my grandfather came, I suddenly felt calm and when I was seven I found the courage to discuss it with him. He seemed delighted; a new-born lycantrophe of his blood, a miracle, and he explained to me what I was and why. From that moment on I paid attention and I saw I was not alone. A lot of people around me were just like me and I felt free and I did what I wanted with my newly discovered side. I was happy, as were all other lycantrophes. At the time I was nine, there was an argument between one of the leaders of our pack and someone who knew what we were and blamed us for the death of a child. The child had been attacked by wild hounds, all evidence was there, but no one seemed to see it. From that moment on, people paid attention, and in no time they could pick out any lycantrophe in a row of a thousand people. The humans learned, learned to see the differences that were there and they started to treat us different. At that time, the mayor of our town was a Christian and head of an organization of a church that called us Satan's children, demons of the night and what's not. They started to hate us and spread their hatred among the other people. Then at the time I had just turned ten, five lycantrophes were killed, just like that, killed and dumped into a ditch. My grandfather was one of them. What reached the national news was nothing more then the shocking message that two bodies were found brutally slaughtered and there was no trace of the killer. The other three bodies never came out of our town, the police force and the mayor prevented it. At that time all lycantrophes in the police forces and high positions were fired and also that never left our town. The dead bodies never were buried within our town, they were taken away and were left to rot somewhere in a forgotten place. When I howled and cried for the death of my grandfather, my sister came to me. Not to tell me she felt bad, but to laugh in my face and tell me she had been wise to deny what she was. The hatred had got her too, my own sister. My father then was a strict Christian himself and he had divorced my mother long ago, but now he wanted nothing more to do with us. The people saw how easy it was to kill and get away with it and more lycantrophes were killed. Of the thousand that once formed our pack, about twenty were killed, the rest, afraid of what might happen, flew to Scotland. But I refuse to leave my birthplace. I am left here, with about ten others, alone and isolated. Though the system has changed and a new mayor has taken place, the hatred remains. And I silently ask myself, are we still in the Middle Ages? Has the fear of witches and creatures other than human not died out? Didn't the humans change at all? Would they still burn us if they had the chance to? Why is something else always considered an outcast? Why? What did we do to the humans to make them hate us so? I can live here, but I am often threatened. Still I refuse to leave, refuse to give in, I will not let them win, I will not let my sister get her right. I will stay!
And now I find myself, standing on my mountain, crying out to the world a cry of hopelessness and despair. No answer comes and my kind scatters... and dies...

Translated Text of Third Secret of Fatima    (view on a separate page)

Forwarded to Project X by Mark Andrews


June 26, 2000
Web posted at: 6:13 a.m. EDT (1013 GMT)

VATICAN CITY (CNN) - This is the translation from Portuguese of the famed third secret of Fatima that three children believed they received from the Virgin Mary on July 13, 1917, in Portugal. It was written by the surviving member of the trio, Sister Lucia, in January 1944, and released by the Vatican on Monday.

TEXT: I write in obedience to you, my God, who command me to do so through his Excellency the Bishop of Leiria and through your Most Holy Mother and mine. After the two parts which I have already explained, at the left of Our Lady and a little above, we saw an angel with a flaming sword in his left hand; flashing, it gave out flames that looked as though they would set the world on fire; but they died out in contact with the splendour that Our Lady radiated towards him from her right hand: pointing to the earth with his right hand, the angel cried out in a loud voice: PENANCE PENANCE PENANCE. And we saw in an immense light that is God: 'something similar to how people appear in a mirror when they pass in front of it' a bishop dressed in white 'we had the impression that it was the Holy Father.' Other bishops, priests, men and women religious going up a steep mountain, at the top of which there was a big cross of rough-hewn trunks as of a cork-tree with the bark; before reaching there the Holy Father passed through a big city half in ruins and half trembling with halting step, afflicted with pain and sorrow, he prayed for the souls of the corpses he met on this way; having reached the top of the mountain, on his knees at the foot of the big cross he was killed by a group of soldiers who fired bullets and arrows at him, and in the same way there died one after another the other bishops, priests, men and women religious and various lay people of different ranks and positions. Beneath the two arms of the cross there were two angels each with a crystal aspersoium in his hand, in which they gathered up the blood of the martyrs and with it sprinkled the souls that were making their way to God.

Today's Mail: Alien Visits Ended?    (view on a separate page) (more articles about aliens)
Author: Isaac    (all articles by this author)

When I was about seven, but I could have been younger, I remember having strange feelings like someone was watching me, I had dreams of long bright flowing lights in an empty space fly by me, this would go on for a while until one flying light would pass through my head and the pain is unbearable, I wake up with a one second of the pain and then it disappears, this dream went on for two months every night.
When it stopped, it stopped for about a year or less and then started again for another two months until it stopped for good, nothing happened for a good few years, but when I was in primary school I used to have sexual fantasies about females experimenting on me surgically in classroom on metal slabs, having sex with me and performing surgery on me and all the other students, also when I was child a voice in my head used to tell me that I was pregnant, and I believed it, pretty strange for a school boy; I've had lots of strange dreams since, but they are too long just now; when I was 18 I had a nice visit from an alien, it was very bright glowing (it was more like a dream). I pointed to my tooth and said triangle and then pointed to my cheek and said triangle; you're going to smile for a long time, I've got a tooth that's got a chip in it in the shape of triangle and I've got a birth mark of three dots in the shape of a triangle. I asked my parents if they remember me having this and they told me they have no recollection of its period. The triangle looks like
? .
??? .?? .

The last experience has left me a bit bewildered and like a zombie, I was 19 and I was watching a film with my friend Stuart, when this bright light flashed past me and I was on an operating table (metal) and lots of aliens around me, it felt a bit too familiar, I wasn't in pain, I knew who they were or at least I have met them before. Then one came up to me and asked calmly, telepathically, "CAN WE TAKE IT OUT OF YOU?" and without thought I said, "YES", I saw them about to operate and I faded back to the living room to watch the rest of the film; I told Stuart a week later, he believes something happened, but did not see anything in the room.

Sorry this was a bit long, please can someone who has had similar experiences, please contact me.

Thank you,

Asylum of The Undead: Part IV - The Lady In Red    (view on a separate page) (more articles about else)
Author: Mark Andrews    (all articles by this author)

[continued from the previous edition]
Ghostly Encounters at Central State Hospital
copyright 2000
A true account by
Mark Andrews

Part IV
???? The Lady In Red
"Such a dear little ghost!"

Some things in life are seen most clearly by the effect they leave behind.
One early AM in 1986, I was taking some patients' charts to the other end of the Bolton Building when I was passed in the empty hallway by the brand new night-shift nurse. The time was around 4 AM, yet it appeared that she was on her way out the door with all of her personal belongings in hand.
I took my time on purpose so I could see what she was up to. I watched as she got in her car and quickly drove off the grounds. I mentioned what I had seen to the charge attendant on Ward 26. She didn't look up from her knitting as she responded, "Yep, she got her. She got her GOOD!
"Who got WHO?", I wondered.
"You KNOW about The Lady, Don't you?", the elderly African American woman asked as she peered up at me through her glasses.
That was my very first awareness of The Lady In Red; the matronly ghost of Central State.
The story ( as I've been able to piece it together ) is that of an elderly woman from a well to do family from the city's North side who was "put away" by her children in the mid 1940's. In those days, such was accomplished with little effort, providing that those involved had sufficient wealth or political pull.
Today, we would most likely regard someone in her condition as being just a little eccentric or perhaps in the early stages of Alzheimer's. In any case, someone was to gain financially from the woman's internment.
Despite any dirty deeds on their part, the family was obliging when it came to visiting her and taking her out for a day. And you could always tell when she was expecting to go off- grounds because she would be dressed in her matching red outfit. Everything from hat with veil to matching hand bag and shoes: RED!
Geneva and I had been co-workers from my first days at CSH. By 1986, she had already been a Central State employee for 34 years. There wasn't much about the place that Geneva didn't know. She remembers working on wards where The Lady was a resident.
She shared with me some interesting facts. Her name was Clara. Anyone could see that she wasn't really mentally ill; just a little feeble.
She was one of the sweetest people you could hope to meet. She took a great interest in the welfare of the other patients and was forever helping the attendants with patient care.
Clara came to feel more at home at the hospital than in her own house. The CSH patients were her "family". And like she had done for her own children, she set about nurturing those around her who were not so well off.
She was deeply offended by any acts of cruelty toward the other patients, and was especially sensitive toward uncaring nurses, since she - at one time - had been a nurse herself.
When Clara first arrived, the hospital was nicknamed "Seven Steeples" after the group of seven brick and mortar towers that sectioned- off the various units in the old Main Complex.
Each tower, appropriately, was graced with a somewhat Gothic cap and steeple.
Psychotropic medications were nearly non- existent in those days. Shock therapies were the accepted treatment for the mentally ill.
All of life's necessities were provided for the residents; however second-hand. Any luxuries such as sweets or small gifts would have to come through the graces of private citizens or organizations. All in all, it was a pretty bleak existence. But Clara did what she could to make life a little more pleasant for everyone.
Geneva explained to me that Clara had died around 1967; still a Central State resident. She had been buried in a family plot in an off-grounds cemetery. But, as Geneva observed, Clara wasn't about to let a little inconvenience like death take her away from her adopted children. She was still Central State's most active volunteer.
Many times, patients would get up through the night and report to the attendant staff that the "nurse" in the red dress had woken them up and told them to tell the attendants to make sure that they were scheduled to be seen at foot-clinic, or by the ENT specialist, by the dentist, or at the GYN clinic. AND, if you got such a report from a patient, you BETTER see to it that the request was carried out. Because if you DIDN'T, Clara would make you miserable by means of mischievous annoyances until you followed her matronly advice.
And when it came to new nurses, Clara would always have the final say as to who would stay and who would go.
She had a set routine of appearing, dressed in red, at the opposite side of the building from a nurse who she considered to be unacceptable. She would stand in place as the nurse made her way toward her, and at the last moment, she would simply vanish. And never was it reported that a nurse seeing Clara's disappearing act EVER stayed until sunrise.
"Yep, she got her. She got her GOOD!"

?(to be continued in the next issue)

Glenn Scheper's Website    (view on a separate page)
Author: Glenn Scheper    (all articles by this author)

I am an avid lurker on many lists, and collector of URLs. I rarely contribute, for my ideas would be called heretical.
What would I be offering? -- A signal in the mud; -- The primary universal archetype; -- The mysteries of religion, revealed; -- The avatar personality, the Christ, explained.
That there is some trace to find, a residue not explained, which is because it has not yet been examined correctly by science, is shown by the enduring popularity of religions.
That religion has it all wrong, is evident from the hysteria of religions -- politics vying in a meaningless simulacrum of all-wrong esoteric interpretations of religious symbols.
That I have got a lot of it right, should be as self-evident as Poe's purloined letter. By my parsimonious hermeneutics I can make clear most of the bible's mysteries, and explain diverse poets' and mystics' works; especially those from Franz Kafka, Austin Osman Spare, Aleister Crowley (You bad boy!), William Shakespeare, and a host of other men.
Unfortunately, the whole thing has a tantric aspect to it, so the self-interests of mankind in that vein played a role in its suppression over the ages. My essay will be jarring to well polished religious minds, which should avoid it.
But if you don't come for my Word of God essay, come for a banquet of links: eighty-two thousand filtered, ranked and annotated links, associated into twenty-one web pages:
5024 ANCIENT links, 5423 ASTROLOGY links, 2475 CHORNOBYL links, 4080 ESCHATOLOGY links, 3481 EXEGESIS links, 2680 GNOSIS links, 2356 KABBALAH links, 3100 MAGICK links, 2710 MYSTICAL links, 9484 PAGAN links, 5685 PHILOSOPHY links, 2835 POLITICAL links, 3057 PROPHECY links, 9083 PSYCHOLOGY links, 2136 QURAN links, 4030 RELIGION links, 1761 TANTRA links, 5137 THEOLOGY links, 3230 UFO links, 2203 WORSHIP links, 2790 YOGA links.

Fetch my free text web browser/robot to deal with such a glut!

Closing Words    (view on a separate page)

"Man [has] always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much... the wheel, New York, wars and so on... while all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man... for precisely the same reason."
- from "Hitchhiker's Guide to Galaxy"

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