The Second Coming – a somewhat less known version

Rosa Mystica

Sancho Panza wrote yesterday:

Subject: Angels and Demons

I am, as always, a stranger! There is no depth to anything or to me… just like one of those dolls made up of gathered things… that’s what I feel like!

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I replied:

Context?

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Sancho replied:

Sloan, you say that you get “corrections” by something…. angels, you say…. I say microbes. :-)

Like you, I think I am being “guided” also by something that can affect my body/mind… I suppose that some would say that it is “just your conscience” but I don’t think so… I am not much into morality, besides, these are actual sensations associated with my interactions with people or resulting from those interactions… I want to know if this is the way that you perceive/sense people when you get close to them? What I mean is whether you get physical sensations… like when you say that you’ve been “poisoned”?

The phrase or insight I sent to you before, came from somewhere inside of me as a result a close interaction with a woman who was probing me to answer how I was feeling(about her, I suppose… women seem to always think it’s all about them, lol).

I know that you are busy with all the school stuff… so don’t give this too much effort!!!

Sancho

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I replied:

Hi, Sancho –

I often get sensations, in the moment, when conversing with someone else. Not ongoing sensations. It won’t be there, then it’s there. The sensations can be pleasant, but most often they are more like warnings, or reads, on either how I am doing in the conversation, or on the other person. Perhaps radar, sonar, tuning fork analogies work fairly well. Sometimes I hear something telepathically, not from another person, but seemingly from outside me, but it relates to the other person. Sometimes I simply know something which I did not know, which pertains to a person with whom I am conversing, or have conversed recently. None of it feels like it comes from my conscious self, nor from my mind. It seems to come either from other, or from/through a second set of senses which were installed or awakened in me. In the latter case, it is part of me, but there seems to be a dialogue between that part of me and other. Again, none of it is steady, continuous, but it is always ready to come on line, so to speak, when I am awake, as opposed to when I am sleeping.

All of that is very different from feeling poisoned, which is how I feel most of the time. It waxes and wanes in intensity, and the flavor of the poisons varies from bad, to rough, to horrible, to perceived terminal. A part of that seems like a constant base note, which I associate with karma at this stage of my understanding, rooted in my having molested my younger sister when she was 5 and I was 15. That part is the bowel dysfunction. The other part of it, which is in addition, is mostly the poison variations and additional bowel discomfort, even to extreme discomfort. That, I associate with spirit garbage moving into me from situations coming toward me to be engaged by me. It’s like bad weather coming in, which I feel before I see it and know what it relates to and get a measure of just how rough and dirty is the spirit component. As I engage its human proxy/situation on this world and move into that, the poison and pain often increase until I have penetrated it all the way, and then it begins to recede. The human proxy situation can be one other person, several other people, a community of other people, a city, a county, a state, a country, usually USA, a religion, usually some or a lot of Christendom, and even the human species. Usually these days, I seem to be dealing with multiple bad weather fronts at various stages of engagement inside of me. I view that as shaman work, for want of a better label. I view the external part of the engagement, speaking to other people, writing to them, publishing about it, as priest work, for want of a better label.

The external part of engagements is monitored, guided, corrected by internal sensations such as I tried to explain in the first paragraph above. Sometimes I go off on tangents and misread the internal sensations, get carried away with my thoughts, drives, etc. perhaps helps explain it better. That’s where dreams come in. I dream about everything I am engaging, often before I even know it’s there to engage. Dreams are the core guidance system. They are designed just for me, and probably would be gibberish to anyone else who had them. They are created/designed/choreographed to relate to my own individual experiences throughout my life in this incarnation. They are mostly symbolic, encoded, and the meaning sometimes is clear on waking, but often the meaning only becomes clear as a waking episode progresses and realizations come, or something happens and I know that was what a dream was about. Sometimes, I never understand what a dream was about. The dreams seem to be produced from outside of my psyche, although I suppose a part of my pysche is involved in the production and the rest of what I am trying to describe here.

I suppose at some level there is some sort of agreement in my psyche with other, for me, the human, to be having the suprahuman and superhuman experiences, which are ongoing parallel to the ordinary human engagements and sensations. Of course, I was not always like this, but I am like this now. Of course, it is mostly awful, but it was awful before it started to be like this, and back then I was clueless about the suprahuman and superhuman aspects which may have been in play all along out of my conscious understanding, or may have been “turned on” and then I was moved into learning how to engage them and cope and live with them, all in addition to the karma, of which I was clueless, and probably there is still plenty of karma of which I am clueless, and plenty of other stuff of which I am clueless. The unconscious/subconscious is huge compared to the conscious.

My core perspective of all of it is this is my journey, my evolution, acceleration; it has nothing to do with anyone else, and I need to keep ever aware of that. Even so, I am pretty sure it is not original with me, although some of the variations may be unique to me. There is considerable literature and lore of humans being singled out by spirit elements to be taken into something entirely different from the people around them. In that literature and lore, these cut out of the herd people are put into life experiences which are fuel/fodder/grist for their spirit development, if the experiences are engaged in a spirit/alchemical/out of the box way, and not in a familiar ego, knee-jerk, mainstream way. Or, if not engaged in a human way, but in what humans would view as an inhuman, or an unhuman, way. All of which, of course, creates much sense of isolation and loneliness in the cut out of the herd pilgrim, often hapless tortured victim seems a better label to the pilgrim.

Since early 2005, I have been alone in this experience. Before that, there usually was a woman in the experience with me. Nothing like a woman around for the angels to use her to grind me up even more than I otherwise am ground up. It becomes two separate bodies of spiritual alchemy, when there is a woman around, especially when we are together physically. Some of the sensations we experience together simply have no human counterpart and cannot be explained in a way anyone not having the experiences could comprehend or appreciate.

I used to call that “paradise mating”, but it so often seemed like a plunge into abject hell and pain (perhaps euphemistically called ‘holy purifying fire”), that I wondered why it was given to me to call it “paradise mating”? It overall was no fun, period, for the women, who tended to be less able to cope with/understand/accept being captured/cut out the herd. I am pretty sure that was due to (a) the extreme prejudice against the feminine in this species, and (2) women being fundamentally “earth” in makeup, and men being fundamentally “spirit” in makeup – mirror opposites, as the human plumbing components seem to indicate. I bring paradise mating up because perhaps that is what is lurking for you. This is the second time you have mentioned a woman to me, who was affecting you. The other time, mariposa was a label you, or she, used. Maybe in 2003 or 2004.

I found myself thinking yesterday, I think it from time to time, that the seven women I had as wives, and some girlfriends, all very different, opened up different parts of me, and, I suppose, I opened up different parts of them. For better and, I suppose, for worse, depending on whose point of view is engaged; which, of course, might be a really limited point of view compared to the suprahuman and superhuman points of view. It was when I was with wife 3, 1988-1995, that the suprahuman and superhuman really came online, although it actually began nine months before I met her, and, yep, a woman was in on that, too. She was sleeping beside me in her bed in her home in Los Alamos, when it visibly and viscerally began for me in the wee hours, which first conscious “visitation” from angels I have described many times.

I imagine it doesn’t start the same way for any two people, and I imagine there are uncountable ways it can proceed. I have known a few people for whom it proceeded somewhat like it proceeded for me. People with whom I was, or became, very close. I frankly cannot relate to your microbe talk, and I wonder if you would be better served by dispensing with the biological assignment of cause and simply call it other, since you do seem to feel/think it is coming from beyond your consciousness/intellect, which it always does when it begins and proceeds.

I see I got long-winded, but I came out of nap dreams which indicated I was to let it all hang out, but I knew not in what all situations. I came out of the grog, finally, dragged myself out of bed and went to my laptop and there you were, with your questions. I suppose there are other situations coming, to which the dreams apply as well. I’m pretty sure school district stuff is one, as I recall dreaming of that fun arena during the nap. It’s all a big unfolding mystery, like watching a love horror action adventure movie for the first time, without reading any of the reviews or seeing any previews. I wish I could recommend it to others, but the best I suppose I can offer is what it looks like to me and commiseration. And, yes, there are angels and there are demons, and getting used to that and coming to discern between is an ongoing adventure, to give it as nice a label as I presently can conjure.

Sloan

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Sancho replied:

Thank you, Sloan!

I am always amazed at you and at your memory! Much of what you say here is pretty scary to me… I definitely did not ask for or want any part of becoming a conduit for spiritual forces to advance the species or serve as exorcist priest or shaman. I believe that moments of intimacy can open up these portals of alternate perception… but actually, this is the first time that I’ve heard you mention that you were in bed with a woman when that first angelic visitation occurred… it makes sense!

You also say that you have found that once something is presented to you as a task (not of your own choice but rather placed on your way by spirit forces), the only way to clear it is too fully engage it until you exhaust its karmic power over you and the pain stops. I am sorry, but either I don’t have your sense of total confidence in your protectors/guides or I am just a natural coward and will rather go alone with the initial doom/gloom sensations that warn me before I engage myself further in a situation, that this fight is not one I can win… or better yet, one that is not worth fighting for.

But we do share the same sense of alienation… I think! It would be so nice to be with the perfect woman to share life and to be able to rest knowing that we are not alone….. and perhaps that vision is but a dream… and like all dreams, vanishes when we awake.

Sancho Plugging alone

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I replied:

Maybe not entirely alone, but your scientist mind doesn’t want to admit it.

I thought to myself after writing back to you, that I much prefer this sort of discussion, which takes me back into the heart of my training and experiences, than I like talking and writing about school stuff, or most of what else which has to do with politics.

You really should be really scared of what I described, for it is really scary. It still scares me, because of places I have been with it, which were awful and terrifying and really dangerous beyond human comprehension. I have no choice now but to trust the angels who “adopted me”, as I have no clue how to go further without them, even as I bitch and moan plenty about how they treat me. The past two weeks have been terrible, and when they woke me up at 2:30 a.m. this morning with a dream about my needing to write today about No Name Key, which became half of today’s double header post, I shot them a bird and called them mother fuckers. Leading up to the Winter Solstice, I seemed to be mending physically, but that all went far south of south when the Solstice arrived, and it’s been awful-squared ever since.

I should have included in what I wrote to you earlier, you have heard it before, that I was at the end of my rope, and knew it, when I prayed to God for help in early 1987, and offered my life to human service. The prayer was answered about ten days later by two angels (Jesus and Archangel Michael. I much later realized) coming to me in the wee hours and waking me up, as my girlfriend slept beside me in her bed in her home in Los Alamos, of all places. A biologist, she worked in one of the labs up there, and was experimenting with using vegetation to soak up the toxic chemicals the other labs up there were pouring into the ground and water table. She was also a mystic. As were the women I was put with after her. All of them were able to and did hear from angels.

What I observed over the years since that night Jesus and Michael came and told me, “This will push you to your limits, but you asked for it and we are going to give it to you,” and then they zapped me with three successive bolts of spiritual lightning, is the kind of treatment I would receive and still am getting does not work for people who do not, as I did, come to the end of their rope, and know they are at the end of their rope, and they beg God for help, with or without offering their lives to human service.

Only one person I met was at that same desperate place, and she would become wife 6. Of the people I knew who were offered what I was being given, she alone seemed to actually want it, and she alone seemed to really move into it. It was super volatile for her, and thus for us; not only because of her internal psycho-spiritual process, but also because I was being burned alive, too.

The Fall from Paradise was a real event for this species on this planet. In the spirit, it was the rejection of the feminine by this species. The recovery of that is beyond human comprehension, as that 6th wife and I both were to see in hearts and in spades. The other paradise mating partners given to me felt it far more than they actually saw and accepted it. Only to a point were they able, or willing, to go. The recovery of the feminine is not, in my opinion, going to happen in this species, unless it is simply given to the species in some form of supernatural intervention.

Eventually, it became more than wife 6 and I could bear, and when we parted in late November 2000, on Maui, I was told to go to Big Pine Key. I had no money, but things happened and I made it to Big Pine Key on a Greyhound bus about two weeks later. I was told to stay on the bus and go on down to Key West, I suppose because that was an easier place to be homeless than was Big Pine Key. In the spring of 2006, as I wrote in today’s the pro-grid homeowners on No Name Key slaughtered themselves, and that’s who they really ought to sue post, I was moved to Little Torch Key, one key down US 1 from Big Pine Key.

A somewhat wacko humorous aside, over a piece of really good homemade key lime pie tonight at Coco’s Kitchen on Big Pine Key, an older fellow, who had been a lawyer in the US Department of Justice in Washington, D.C., and had met and married his wife there, she was a D.C. native, kept saying Warshington. I often had heard people from around there say Warshington, when they meant Washintgon, and out of the blue, over that delicious pie, I had a mystical revelation. They call it WARshington because it is the capitol of the Military-Industrial Complex. WARshington is where America decides to go to war.

Sloan

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My impression of Sancho over the years is he takes on various causes, engagements, until, as he wrote, he sees there is no point in going further. So far, he has not reached that point with me. For me, it is pretty much the opposite. I go into each arranged engagement with a core view that it’s a hopeless cause and the only reason I am given it to do is to be further purified, and to further accelerate and deepen and widen my own spirit vibration. If something changes externally as the result of my efforts, wonderful; but I do not hold my breath wating for any external change to occur.

My impression of reading about Jesus in the New Testament is that was how he went about things. He was in communion with angels. He engaged what was given to him to engage. He did his best. Then, he moved on. Archangel Michael told wife 6 and me that is how angels live: they receive engagements; they engage. Michael told us we were being taught to live like angels. Easier said than done, of course. Maybe it would be easier if I could see what Michael and Jesus see, but I don’t see what they see, because mystery is a core ingredient of this journey.

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Rosa Mystica

Sweet Mystery

Blood of Christ

Living water

without which

there are no Rainbows

and God is dead.

(transmission in March 1994, in Boulder, Colorado)

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Jesus’ muse, his Rosa Mystica, was Mary Magdalene. That is crystal clear in the  Gospels, for those with a functioning internal feminine.

Anyone with only a half-way functioning internal feminine knew it was a terrible idea to send American troops to war in Iraq, and then in Afghanistan.

holy fire

Anyone with only a half-way functioning internal feminine can see the cure for what all ails America is a massive Estrogen injection. Fat chance of that view prevailing in a testostrone-driven, sort of rhymes with T-Rex-driven, country.

Sloan Bashinsky

sloanbashinsky@hotmail.com

 

About Bash

open files in header pages at www.goodmorningbirmingham.com, www.goodmorningfloridakeys.com, www.goodmorningkeywest.com
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