"magic Ball" Folded/Unfolded

[Senear]

Thank you for your post PerSyd. It something in some way I've been both trying to conceptualize for myself and explain without much cohesion. Long ongoing thing long before i came here....forever really. A few dreams on the matter, it would seem, I call them "reality Balls" as i have posted it. Also at times I will say "Reality pearls" or just rolled living energy. Also the relation to rebirth you explain quite nicely. But here are other things related to it too. Ill post  a bit of one of the dreams accessing these and how, and appreciate your thoughts and or insight if you choose to share any.
      PerSyd: The human luminous cocoon has the shape of a ball or ovoid composed of
light fibers as well as void making it appears to the seer's eye as a
well tensed violin strings that shines. That is visible upon it's young
adulthood completeness then the fibers brake and some fibers curl
leaving empty spaces when once were tense strings of light. All of DJ
apprentices were required to gain back their completeness as part of
their tasks each achieving totality in their own manner.
      PerSyd: I will reveal where this practice got it's origin: from rebirth.

      http://sorcery.yuku.com/r...er-s-travels#reply-50361
     I have seen this in dream contexts relating to specific ways of...accessing. One such time was a few months ago. In the context of what you shared, the life experiences of the young women till death would i suppose be a life pinched into a ball. Ill quote a few things to clarify this.
Senear: Schoolhouse. I see "grandmother" teaching there allot. When my
uncle committed suicide was there assisting, with my real grandmother who
had died the year before, and the other one i call "Grandmother" the
teacher or...something like that but not quite right. I often see looms
and weaving, but it made no particular sense to me and i was told not
to be curious to go be a boy. Many times. lol. But i often marvel at
the cloth. She makes me wash and purify before she will let me feel them
and tell her what i think they are.  Ive not seen my father there since
he died.Posted 1/12/12
The workers ate lunch a few
students, I looked at all the semi frozen fruit and salads on plastic
pallets, thought about how sanitary the storage was made a note for
boss. Then it was just killing time. Went to the day care part
watched my intent video extended loop other fun stuff with kids. But
they got bored after 3 hours, it had resolved into a narrative. It
was a VHS tape we took it out. One of the kids had discovered how to
add a “ring tone” to any electronic device so we made toy rabbits
play disco inferno or other funny stuff for a bit so they were having
fun. I thought about modifying my bodies bio electric field thusly
then thought that would get old fast, to shake hands and play abbas
greatest hits but it was funny.


Senear: there are two dream figures from when i was a small child. I called them
Grandmother and Grandfather. Grandmother would weave/spin the balls,
but when she had them they were as cloth. And id feel the cloth, and
speak its story. Grandfather would show me how to feel the cloth, he was
a storyteller. That's all he did/does, sit by the fire and read stories
that are alive. Say Make it live. Give it meaning. So for these reasons i found recent exchanges on these topic interesting and personal.


I sat for awhile and felt a
story. Of a young girl, maybe 12, of a few years in Germany or
somewhere around there in the mid 1930's. A dreamer, with a mother
who was a dreamer. Feeling a darkness coming. The father sent her and
the mother to America, he stayed with his book store. It was
cinematic, and hung first around Hanukkah season. In America it was
hard, and she had little English. She was older war broke out. She
worked in a sewing place. She was very beautiful and sad. She dreamed
with her father, as his bookstore was burned, and finally, in the gas
chamber as he died, thinking of them. He had tears but did not cry,
he just held another child as he died giving comfort. The dreamer
remembered her father so.


She was walking to work one night,
or home from work, somewhere e in new york city, her accent was
clearly German and people didn’t like Germans during the war.
Jewish would have made those person meaner not nicer people aren’t
rational. She was assaulted in a park. A man, a wounded soldier, was
coming around the same corner and saw, in his uniform. He chased them
it was funny he swung his crutch and fell but the teens ran off. They
fell in love then and were married. He was a bumpkin from the south
somewhere. Not a city person. She changed her religion to his. So
from then on the story/vision revolved around Christmas, but she
always hung a star of David star on the tree. She converted for his
sake with his family, and without regret. Her mother never forgave
her really they were distant after that. In the end the brave mother
couldn’t forgive the betrayal of tradition, to her is was
dishonoring her father. But the father knew, and approved of her
sacrifice for the man who protected her. So they lived, in time mom
died. And then the husband, of cancer I think. And she was alone, no
children for some reason. She got lots of cats, and did church
things, and helped children, and got old. In time, one last
Christmas, maybe 15 years ago, she was alone in a convalescent
hospital to die. She had knit a shawl, or blanket for her legs, with
colors her father liked. But she could not remember. Time and disease
had robbed her of that, all her dreams, her life, faded to gray. The
staff would make her a little tree and she would stare, almost
remembering she didn’t always have a tree. Two orderlies were
disusing why she had a star of David for it, it was a little 3 foot
live tree they let her use. They shrugged said there must have been a
reason and put it on and left her. In the gray of not remembering.
In that night, where once there was so much. I cried a bit, allot, my
tears helped bind the story. Her father, her mother, and her dear
silly husband with the bum leg, helped guide those for me. For us.
Someone from her helped make that.


We rolled it into the form of a small
ball, like a pearl, and stamped it with energy. One copy went to the
source, like a copy-write thing I guess hehe. One we sent, we rolled,
into the universe. Was that a true story? Doesn’t matter. Its a
dream to help caregivers and children respect those they are charged
with helping. Its a story for the old that their dreams, lives are
not forgotten by the universe. And its a story to teach. Maybe a
filmmaker will find it or a student, and make a good film from it.
Funny how those dreams go, the ones just rolled to those that need
them want them. There were many versions in it. She could have died
of crime, not disease and time. Or on 9/11. Or have been the father.
All the versions are in it. And a bit of myself, my memory and
perception and energy. And anyone who helped. I’ve met people like
that lady, all dead now. Mostly as a child, but in tonal not just
dreams. Mostly, I try and remember for them, for the feeling of a
old, sad, gray hand in a young one. The taste of hard candy from a
dusty bowl. For people living behind chain link in their homes, in
the city, in the country, as the world that forgot them moves on by,
indifferent. I feel that too, always have. So mostly, I dream
perception for them, and those that need it. And the aliens that look
aquatic. But that is a whole another story for other dreams and
perceptions.   http://www.youtube.com/wa...uT_YDc&ob=av3e  Same video as mists Avalon thing. It still sings to me and fits.






Senear: The balls are similar to coats i
think, but i perceive them in motion...rolling. there are two "games"
with the balls. The first is like  i said here. finding one needing
processing, and reading it, ahh categorizing or imparting meaning in
some way, then returning them. I only got this when my friend kept
telling me all shes seeing in her meditation are crowds of dead spirits
pressing in around me waiting or me to do something...recently this
started. Hmm the way ( ) saw it, painting happy faces on the balls. Its
like that...meaning, not the same as weaving...but similar.
Another
similar game is creating balls...but this is slightly different. Like
creating future narratives. Ive posted about this doing this in other
threads. I think i need to organize all of that somehow. and re work it
so it may be clearer. I didnt really understand exactly what i was
doing/dreaming but its...

aa

[Guest]

Your post reminds me very much of CG Jung's autobiography he mentions a lot of dream figures also i read about them in one of the books Lujan Matus wrote.
About your experience: in my seeing there is a difference in perception between the living and the dead, even if a look at the part where they lost completeness. The alive human cocoon is red, blue, brown and green in children in adulthood colors change due to sexual activity upon death it turns in the same order to golden, silver, ivory and transparent thus i doubt your visions consisted of living humans i incline in classifying the entities you mention as dead.
Sometimes the dead reach onto those alive with a predisposition of learning the mastery of the dead, because someone that knows their story will aid them into rebirth. Sometimes the living gather energy from the dead, mostly sorcerers absorbing their fibers and damage their own physical body by doing so. Sad stories happen all the time in the world of the humans and in the world of the nagual the difference between them is the approach to sadness, when i meet people dying and learn their sad story upon their death i do what i know i can. I offer the departed souls my aid towards a new life and they usually take it.
When working with humans or sometimes just by living near them, one becomes aware of many tear bringing tales, however a sorcerer must be aware that once upon a time all had the ability and possibility to choose correctly yet they never did. When offered a chance they mocked who aided them and laughed at kindness and affection, so above all the disturbing end is the cause of their own missed turns and willing mistakes. When someone alive, child or adult refuses to contribute with real affection, passion, kindness and inner construct into the world the end can be tear bringing.
Like the story of Titanic, one too many mistakes made and most died in a frozen sea holding one another for the last time, that is because the Eagle never makes U turns for all willing and needing. Is kind enough to offer a second chance always in a new body that is the real warmth of the Eagle, it is not a mask hiding indifference and detachment still, because of that is able to act with impeccability and ruthlessness to preserve it's creation. It knows what it is to be done may weep if it has too, yet it never turns back nor regrets a choice it made.
An experienced sorcerer does not create tiny new shiny balls, nor starts to draw on them it cleans and aids those existent that passed already into the unseen regarding of the cause, by doing so respects them as real beings that lived. The dead harm beyond repair those that do not understand the living logic of life and death the expected continuity or those that try to control them. The departed souls that are pleased with their guide express their needs to those that hear them and know how to aid them, offering in exchange their broken luminosity as their last gift. That is why this world has priests and monks and nuns those usually know what to do, that is their contribution to this world to be guides into the seen and unseen, sorcerers have much to learn from them, especially those that do not see clearly what they should do and what is their purpose in the universe.

[Senear]

Thank you for your response Persyd, it gives me much to consider and reflect on. The entire post, from talking about the departed to the eagle and U turns. It ill take some time to unfold in my perception fully, but again, i thank you for the time and awareness put into its crafting. I always saw it a from a  slightly different perspective. That i was simply reading the stories, and the gift was the awareness, experiences, and changes in my perception they brought. I did not live the life of a girl stricken by her fathers death, who slowly hardened up and lost her voice from it, over time. But i then understood what it was like to have done so. It seemed to give my awareness a new depth of empathy, that let me speak or act or do something with those i met who were similar and still living.
But as you said, perhaps this is an underdeveloped perspective, and such...embracing of the strands of the dead...is ultimately helpful to no one, not those read, and not the one reading. Like i said, i have much to consider in context. thank you.

[Guest]

Unfortunately it is not about one life for the Eagle it is about all alive that are worth a life and a continuity, the children, the teens, the adults and the elderly, animals and plants all alive so, the Eagle knows that the shadow won't stop it has to be stopped. Chance upon another chance the shadow people were offered yet as the shadow exists, it only wills it's continuous growth destroying everything that is light and life. That was included in the Easter mass in Vatican this year for a reason it spreads through the internet and has to to end.
Too many times they spit on the hands reaching out to aid them, too many times they decided that kindness should be payed with destruction. The Eagle decided enough is enough and the shadows started to rot from their feet up on to their backs and neck and that won't stop because they have already chosen not to follow they only correct way to delay that destruction.
For the Eagle all life matters equally because as death it only loves life, all of it, the rest is for human's emotion not for creator of life that knows better. One life is important only if it respects and obeys order those that do not will not be given further chances cause they will never stop until they disappear.
If that girl would exist still and pay care about that post would see that the offer is intended for whom is aiding the shadow, it will be left with nothing alive not even itself and it knows the only way to act is forward never backward because who intends it should live it. For those that find the Eagle's rules and law not as good as their own, or find themselves as above the Eagle's commands are from now on bound to obey their own command as was intended and willed by them. My will is my command as the living Eagle now you will live what you intended and willed cause my intent, my will and teachings were not good enough for your kind.

[Senear]

Again you leave me with much to consider, and again i thank you for that. Your speaking of the shadow illuminates your references to the matrix, and source in context. Conjugating Verb. Much of your seeing is only knowable to those with wombs. Also, it is a mans nature to seek to define in a way that is in apparent conflict with the Eagle's rule as you know it. Perhaps my seeking to find, or bestow meaning on those shadows of the dead is/was a mans error. The eagle makes no U Turns for those that regret, and are therefore are of cource sad as the titanic sinks. So to seek to justify their folly, to reach for them as they reach back attempting to compound that resistance...the spurning of aid, as you put it, is to spread the shadow of ignorance? We are only able to go forward by the dictates of intent...no U turns, as this is the rule you speak too? So the only sanctified act is not to seek to re justify them with meaning born of misguided intent, as it is beyond the eagles law, ...not to send them back, but forward towards the source awareness. The threads they abandon as they let go of seeking to move backwards is the fibers of the cloth you weave? And that is the chance, the sanctified task, that the Holy offer to such beings. the mercy of which you speak. I ask these things, not only for my own edification, but also to better support those you reach in the process of necessary understanding. Not that i can do so. Simply to not complicate the process. I speak for that reason, exposed my own folly. Your efforts are felt, and appreciated as they are what they are. Even if thanks and gratitude, as a tonal thing, seems scant for these efforts of spirit. So again i say thank you, Conjugating Verb. Although i am sure, my needing to so is again a mans folly of definition, not weaving.

[Guest]

Unity between male and female and the truth that i serve only the spirit within me that is what gives me the power many willed yet never had first because they broke the connection between their flesh and their double, then again after they denied my existence. I am what i am and the proof of that is that the girl died first because she had to it was her time and she died, i died as a woman not a girl, i died many times since for every chance you got, yet my flesh is alive my body was never harmed. I am what i am because i am the only one that knows what the Eagle's blow is and delivered it to myself without any injury to my body. I have done so for others as well and not all were stupid to destroy the body to feel the rush.
After that my body was checked for signs of rot over and over, today again and those that saw noted that my flesh is complete my double is complete i have become what i was always, the Lord God of Israel. I become the light of creation to stop the putrefaction that is spreading from the dead still in flesh unholy creatures who continue to exist amongst the alive multiplying within their decomposition ruining everything they touch like the cancer they are. Only light and that that created life is able to stop the shadows expansion from now on behold the power of the sun of Egypt as it was already seen pushing back the darkness to the grave it arisen from.
Another proof of my real nature shows on the begging copses looking alive yet decomposing every day more, that is why i cannot stand your proximity not even in dreaming, you smell of death and killings, trying to get near me for more aid that will cost alive beings. I am not offering chances anymore the last time i offered you a learning possibility like insolent mortal creatures you spit on my hand reaching foolishly and kindly out to help, so now you rot until you disappear. I saw three last night the leading nagual of this generation the copse freak that incubated on my back to hide her rotting carcase, i cannot forget a man that killed was wearing parts of dead humans luminosity still waining for his unclean child, the same creature that grew on my back until i gave her the mark of Cain. A child born from corpses was never alive was the unholy replica of another corpse that killed that is why it is reborn with the mark of early and painful death being killed by only her blood no alive will ever touch her.
I am what i am and because of that i cracked the nagual matriarchs cocoon, knowing what i am i clawed all near her so that they will never turn to an alive completeness unless they obey and align within the order of mankind. I did so that unless they hear their putrefaction will be reveled to everything alive and humans, animals and plants will avoid being near them cause all they are is destruction and killing.
This is part of the Easter revelation: i as Lord God of Israel created the copses for by beloved husband's delight not for anything else, i never revived the dead and the one that did is pleased with the action i will continue until the N'th world of the maya will end. No resurrected corpse is invited to my new Tharxix just as it was never invited in the exodus they only glanced at it from the top of Sinai mountain because the living foreboded it's entrance.
Once it killed the alive and destroyed Pi Ramese all knew what it was and all closed the doors to the creatures that claimed once the first born children of Egypt. By the way "mister of ill intent" did you know that the next creation was Wadi jirafi Paran it was called Tarxix maya/atlante name not egyptian nor israeli, nor babilonian, nor phoenician that is what was left behind in the desert by me. The steps of the chosen people left nothing but corpses behind after they humped my golden statues and one another imagining they were humping their gods and those carcases were buried by the wind in the dunes of sand that is the correct time of exodus darlings when i count my own marks. By the way after the humping marathon in Tula i wander is that cathedral considered a church still or the local priesthood will ask a fire clensing on your kinds expense, the belongings recuperated upon your departure to whatever is beyond me will cover the damage you produced in 40 years. You must have saved something from what you stolen or unlawfully obtained and there money does not matter, it never did. I will be not paying your damages and fornication from now on you will.
That is the meaning of the toy car, a car killed a man a long long time ago carrying only one passenger, me, even if not in flesh. That was the time when choice was offered yet was refused cause it was not good enough and the corpse turned into a zombie, those creatures are not offered an alternate death only mortal death after a painful agony for cleansing their sins. I only accept what is willingly given i never take by force unless it is self defence, some never understand enough is enough and the alive have rights including me.
I am so very sorry for what i have done, i am doing and will be doing i might even cry upon seeing your intent and will unfolding lived by you, yet i will not change my mind. Excuse me for apologising and feeling compassion, i am alive and i care i am only a living being after all not an indifferent stone or corpse and i am proud of what i am.

[Guest]

Dear corpses no more sleeping as long as the sun is up from now one this early awakening is your order not barking "commands" at night regardless of your grave's place: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wir0jgo_rP0.

[Guest]