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Project X Newsletter Expanded, issue #82 March 7, 20031. Opening Words - Alexander Aldarow Opening Words (view on a separate page) Good morning, day and evening, dear reader. Yes, it has been almost six weeks since we've greeted each other, and the pile of articles in my Inbox was growing, and I have finally managed to find enough time to treat us both with the next issue of our newsletter. But before I present to you the 82nd edition of Project X Newsletter, I have two important announcements. First of all, we've upgraded our message board, Free Spirits - http://freespirits.chosenones.net . We now have on-line games, which you can play with yourself or against other board forum visitors; a chat room; a news fader; file hosting, that allows to locally store your personal picture, and so much more. Add to that a private messaging system, numerous user options and many more additional enhancements. We've recently held there a competition for the most original use of the board's special effects, and more prize-winning contests are expected in the future. If you wish to discuss the newsletter's articles, or talk to like-minded souls - Free Spirits board ( http://freespirits.chosenones.net ) awaits you. I would also like to direct your attention to a newly released book by our member, Llama Lady, titled "Phyllis ~ From Mother To Daughter A Diary From The Other Side." Have you ever wondered what you will find on the other side when you die? This book answers that age old question. Using the medium of automatic writing, a mother tells her daughter what she found when she left this life. Told in amazing detail, Phyllis not only allows us a glimpse of the other side, but also takes us on the most astounding tour of our lifetimes. As the author tells us: Phyllis, my mother, was an unassuming housewife of the 1950s. She began automatic writing in the early 1960s, and was a gifted channel well into the 1980s. When she left this life in 1993 it was simply logical that she would try to find a means to let her family know that she was alive and well with a wonderful new life and a whole new career. On the first anniversary of her passing Phyllis began once again to use the medium of automatic writing, only this time the tables were turned. She was telling me about her new life and her joyful rediscovery of many friends and family members. Phyllis explains in wonderful detail what life is like from day to day. She speaks of gardens and forests, rivers, lakesides, and the animals. Most importantly, she describes the extraordinary times spent learning from others who have experienced many incarnations. Her words guide us through the similarities and differences among our dimensions and vibrational planes, and stresses the valuable work she and others undertake on behalf of all of us. Phyllis ~ From Mother To Daughter is a diary of these messages which she and I now share with the world. So come take a stroll with us on the other side of the veil. You can find more about this book, including ordering info, at http://pineapplepath.net/phyllis/index.html. The Simple Science of Peace (view on a separate page) (more articles about guidance) Thursday January 23, 2003 at 11:57 AM A "Peace Rally" and "Anti War Protest" are not the same thing. The science
of creating requires careful conscious discernment be used in choosing
our words, thoughts and our course of action.
http://www.indigosudburycampus.com Portraits in Living Color (view on a separate page) (more articles about guidance) Thoughts on the psychological mechanics of creative living, for all
living is creative whether constructive or destructive. There was no one
huge endeavor which solidified into ages, worlds, races etc. Creation is
always in motion, or creation is the result of motion. Day by day, as we
know it, we have at our minds' "finger tips", a huge panorama of living
colors from which to choose. Usually we force our consciousness to follow
a grove which includes feeding, clothing, housing ourselves. Only when
a variation of consciousness insists too strongly to ignore do we stop
our mental track and follow the stimulus. If we think of living as painting
in psychological medium, we must agree that most of our "life paintings"
are quite drab and repetitious.
Star--4/18/83
The Law Of Perpetual Transmutation (view on a separate page) (more articles about guidance) In his book, "The Science Of Getting Rich", author Wallace D. Wattles talks about the Law of Perpetual Transmutation. Simply put, energy from the formless realm is constantly flowing into the material world and taking form. This energy is limitless and inexhaustible. As old forms are exhausted, they give way for new forms to emerge from the invisible hidden energy of the universe. The formless energy is amenable to being shaped by our minds, and is the ultimate source of all wealth. Hence, in a very real sense, every person in this world is wealthy by birth because each of us is connected to that source of infinite supply. The only problem is that almost nobody knows how to tap into it and bring it into manifestation. Hence, they remain impoverished. It is not circumstance or upbringing that does it. It is sheer ignorance of the reality of our own wealth, and how easily we could tap into it if we just tried. It is the mind that does this, and not some sort of "business strategy". Interestingly, most people who want to achieve anything in the material world tend to focus almost exclusively upon "method". They try to make the right contacts, study up the right books, learn the techniques, and so on. This is all very well, but it is not the only factor in success, or even the first one. In any area of endeavor, you will often find two people with almost identical talent and opportunity. One is a roaring success; the other is going nowhere. You may see two almost identical businesses; one is going from strength to strength whilst the other is almost bankrupt. Why? The answer lies in how successfully we can tap into the Law of Perpetual Transmutation, and manifest from the formless according to our desires. Rather than constantly immersing yourself in the world of Effects, i.e. the material world, more of your focus should go into the world of Causes. The first step to doing this is simply awareness. Being actually aware that your first priority should be working in the formless realm will get you a long way towards manifesting what you seek. Form will manifest from the formless, regardless of you. That is simply what happens by natural law. Hence, you can simply work with this process, and accelerate your progress, or try to ignore the law and experience relatively random results. Meditating regularly on the Law of Perpetual Transmutation can help you make it a living belief for you. In a relaxed state, imagine a vast space above you, the size of the whole sky, and filled with energy. This is the formless realm; abundant enough to create ten thousand universes the size of our own, and still be nowhere near running out. Imagine it pregnant with potential, constantly giving birth to new forms in the material world. See this going on continuously, from microscopic to macroscopic, as a flow from formless to form. See also the forms of our material world dissolving right back into the formless energy continuum. Now, place yourself between the flow. See the vast infinite energy flowing from the formless THROUGH YOU, and manifesting into form beneath you. It's like a gigantic hourglass. The energy particles move from the formless, using you as the conduit, and flow into the material world, changed by YOUR will! Rather than simply experiencing the effects of the Law of Perpetual Transmutation, you are bending it to your will. This is the way it was always intended to be used. In truth, the whole of creation is intelligent. Nothing happens by chance. This law was made to be intelligently used. If you use a meditation like this each and every day, you will make this law your own, and begin to realize its effects in your life. It will become a living reality to you, and not merely a theory. Yes, material methods are also important and cannot be ignored. However, doing this ALONE will most probably leave you as another "also-ran". However, if you combine working in the formless realm with also working in the conventional way, your chances of success will be phenomenally increased. In a very real sense, you will be "going with the flow"; the flow from the formless into form through the Law of Perpetual Transmutation. Copyright 2002, Asoka Selvarajah. All Rights Reserved.
Reflections 1-1-2003 (view on a separate page) (more articles about guidance) It's not at all annual tradition of mine to write a year reflection. In fact, never before have I written one or considered writing one. But today is different. This is not a reflection of 2002. This is a reflection of eternity. And of my life, in special. The New Year was nothing special. I spent most of December 31st programming. As did I today. Earlier this day, a cousin of mine arrived. He is going to stay here for a few days. Not just sleeping over, he lives on the streets with his girlfriend, his parents no longer care, he is on drugs and neglects himself. A regular semi-psychotic homeless fellow. He was here before one time, quite long. A month, maybe two. In that time he did some pretty nasty things to me, most of all he ‘stole’ my best friend and ‘converted’ him to his ways. I was never an out-going person and as my friend started to run along to bars and drink all night, I gradually lost him. I guess it wasn't a good friend after all. Today, my cousin came up to me and asked if I had some time for him. He wanted to apologize for all he had done. I appreciated it, it doesn't mend what is done, but it shows he cares. He started with the question if I remembered a snowball fight we had here years ago. I did not. But it made me think. When I was still younger, this cousin was one of my best friends. We slept at each other's places, we played together, we got along amazingly well. Something changed along the way. I do not hate him, but the passion of the past is gone. He is a homeless drug addict and I'm an overeducated, underpaid wage slave. Our lives no longer mix. But this little event started a chain of reflectional thoughts… I don't remember that snowball fight. I don't remember any snowball fight. Though there must have been many. It seems as if the memories of my youth were gradually replaced by the new me. But this evening, I was walking the dog and came along my old elementary school. I have only recently graduated from high school, so the time I was there is only 6 to 7 years ago. It seems like an eternity. Flashes came running into my mind. I was a small child, enjoying elementary school mostly. I remember bits and pieces of summer party there; the school square was filled with all kinds of water basins. I was 4, maybe 5. I loved water, I loved sun, I loved swimming and I couldn't get enough of it. Today, I hide from the light in a blinded room; I loath the sun and I have not swam for over 5 years. A sun allergy replaced my love for it. I changed, totally. We skip a few years ahead. I see myself running over the school square like crazy. I was 10 or 11. A good friend of mine, Sander, was running along. It was time for school camp. Sander was wearing a wicked sombrero and we were going totally nuts. The 3 days of school camp were amazing. I have had contact with Sander for years after, until his mother decided I was evil and we were no longer to be friends. The contact was somewhat restored later on. Now Sander is a manic-depressive person, sitting at home doing nothing. The realization that people, good people, suffer the cruelest fates tastes bitter. It must have been the first school year again, the ditch in front of my school was frozen solid and all the children were ice-skating. Me too, I loved ice-skating. There has been no ice for over 7 years now. The change of climate makes the winters like autumn and the summers like a tropical forest. Things of the past seam to wither away. They die. In another 10 years, nobody will even know what ice-skating is. My father helped me stay up straight on the ice. It was my first skating ever. He was a nice man, in my opinion. I laughed a lot. I have skated many years after and had a lot of fun. Later it turned out that even then my father was secretly going to hookers and endangering my mother by not using a condom. It is also sad that some apparently good people turn out to be totally vile and rotten. I can no longer feel love or affection for that man. I have not seen or spoken with him for 3 years and I would like to keep it that way. Still, once, he was my father. Who helped me skating, took me camping on a farm… That man is no longer there. He ceased to exist. Camping. Nature, one of my other big hobbies of those times. How I loved the forest and the land. I could spend days on a farm with some other children. Playing hide and seek in the stables and running around the cornfields and nearby forests. Building huts and just enjoying. Now I am bored if I have no computer for 2 days. And the farm we always used to go is a parking lot for a mall. The inevitable destruction of the land that man carries out is disastrous, but nobody can stop it. More parking lots, more malls. Let the children go inside their flat and play with their computers, they no longer know what a forest is. I must admit that I, too, fell for it. I feel ashamed. I open my eyes; the dog is pulling the cord, wanting to go elsewhere. I take one last good look at my old school. It looks bleak and empty in the dark. How I would love to sit down with all my classmates again and just ask them how they are. What they made of their lives. On the other hand I have a strong feeling that ignorance is probably bliss in this case. I walk on… Further down the stream of the little ditch stands a giant, ancient oak. In this everlasting autumn, it looks sad, leafless. In summer it is a beautiful giant. I fear it will never again see another summer. Next to the oak was an old farm, no longer inhabited. It was a picturesque part of the scenery. Someone bought the land and tore it all down. A big billboard shows the new purpose; bungalows. A lot of them. Near the road were a bunch of trees standing on a steep slope. It was once an excellent place to play hide and seek or build huts. Now it is gone, flat, bleak. Awaiting new building. Earlier tries to kill the oak have been unsuccessful, but I fear they will once succeed. The oak is in the way, ancient nature has to make place for luxury housing. Beautiful landscapes, which tell stories of ages, are destroyed for man's comfort. I loathe this entire happening; the rest of the little piece of nature has been rudely disturbed. Nothing will ever be the same. People expand and eat away the Earth as a virus consuming the host's resources. Till she dies. Is this the future I want to present to my children once? A scorched Earth, in ashes and fumes of past civilizations. A shortage of oxygen, maybe the last tree in some museum. I know it will not go that fast, but for the sake of the planet I hope mankind will eradicate itself. A shiver runs through my back, how can I think such a thing? A bigger shiver comes with the realization that it is a sane thought. We are all actively destroying our surroundings every day. We always have and always will. The beautiful places on Earth are low in number and reserved for the rich. This oak, this scenery, was once such a beautiful place for everyone to enjoy. Now it will be an asphalt road with some houses. I no longer want to stay around here. A quick walk gets me on top of the dike. On the way back over the dike, I pass a house of an old friend of mine. He is no longer a friend. Somewhere, somehow, I did something wrong. We got along great for a long time, we spent weekends at each other's houses and we were real friends. Then one day he told me he thought it time to both go our separate ways. I never got an explanation and it seemed to come just out of the blue. I stop for a moment and look up to where his room is, or at least was. It's dark inside, it doesn't seem like anybody is home. His parents still greet me on the streets, he doesn't even look at me. I have no idea where I went wrong, or if it even was my fault. Maybe friendships are just not meant to last. It would fit in nicely with the rest of the world, everything eventually decays, dies and turns to nothing. All is forgotten, nothing has meaning. A scary thought. Maybe our existence on this planet now does not mean anything, maybe there is no eternal echo of our actions. And maybe there is. Either way, it doesn't seem to matter eventually. All is meant to be broken. I walk on. A few yards further is a flower shop. We always buy our flowers and plants there, little pieces of domesticated nature for in our house. Such a selfish thing to do. When passing, my eye falls on the opposite terrain with a lot of containers. One of them is too stuffed and cannot close anymore. It is filled with flowers, including pot and all. Apparently they were not fresh anymore and had to make place for newer plants. An entire container full of flowers, and who knows how many more. Discarded, no longer in favour of us, superior beings. It seems like madness, destroy nature to build houses, decorate the houses with domesticated nature and eventually throw that away for burning at some garbage processor. Mankind must have reached its worst point in nature care ever. Maybe it will be even worse, I fear for it even. Only 500 years ago, we were much better at handling nature. And overall much happier, I think. Who knew of stress in those days? And of other welfare-diseases like gluttony and several cancers. This makes me think of the way everything is divided. While people on the other side of the world are starving to death, we stuff ourselves till we die of it. We have so much food ‘left’ that we compress it to food for cattle, with lots of consequences. We battle so hard to fight diseases that were created by food and welfare, while other people simply die because they lack food. They once may have lived in a beautiful wood, which provided them with all they needed. Now that wood is gone and made into our desks and houses. A daily debate is how to get rid of all the overflows of food, while others have none. We wash ourselves with drinkable water, while others have none. We phone our neighbours with our cell phones to tell that our uncle died of a heart attack, due to gluttony, while the average distance from a person to the closest phone is 15 kilometres. We wear shoes that were made by children, in order to stay alive on the little rice they get. What the hell are we doing? Who do we think we are?? Yet nobody, not even me, is willing to give it all up for the greater good. And what will it matter? In the big picture; nothing. I walk on home, unleash the dog. He is happy to be home again, settles
in his comfortable basket with a slice of meat. He has no idea of the misery
the world is in. The Other World Upstairs (view on a separate page) (more articles about else) Feb. 18, 2003 ( non-fiction ) What you will read here may seem to stretch your capacities for open-mindedness. As I pursue this investigation, I will be glad to share pictorial and other recorded evidences with as many as possible. Angie is a real sweetheart. She and I became
friends through the many years that we were neighbors at the mobile home
park. She and her family moved from the park in October of 2002. I will
have officially relocated to my new address by March 1 of this year.
So then, what might this be? You may have read another story that I wrote
a little over a year ago which I titled, "The House That Isn't There /
My Neighbors In A Parallel Dimension". In the article, I spoke of having
to come to terms with the fact that the dimensional barrier on my property
was sufficiently thin as to have caused minor inter-dimensional "neighborly"
grievances between myself and a group of individuals whose house in a parallel
dimension shares space with my old home. The house spoken of by Angie is
roughly one mile to the Northeast of my old house, along the same creek.
It is certainly interesting that no one has
yet found the composure to spend enough time on the house's second floor
to document any type of movement or activities on the other side of the
windows.
Anything can provide a clue as to what we are
encountering here: unrecognizable insects or birds, recognizable older
model vehicles, unknown aerial craft, strange animal life / or even stranger
sentient life.
Is "day time" on the first floor necessarily the equal time of day on the second story? I am hoping to be able to explore these possibilities
as soon as possible.
The Goddess Dove (view on a separate page) (more articles about literature) The Goddess Dove sings her song
In the song is a tear that melts
Across the heavens strides the Goddess
Now they have seen a sign in the sky,
For the Goddess Dove went far away
Until the day should dawn
When all seems lost and destiny o'er
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