THE LAND OF THE SEVEN PLOW OXEN By Daniel Meurois Part Two
“Make no mistake: the disciples follow their master, but the disciples of the disciples betray the master's word.”
DIVISIONS ON RAM’S GREATEST LEADER LEGACY
“The teaching of Ram ended up being distorted, as was that of Jesus Christ later.
A Tibetan proverb says: ‘A thousand monks, a thousand religions.’
“This is true because each individual, if they do not have direct contact with the realm of the Spirit, adapts the beliefs they are taught to their own personality and needs. If they found a school, they risk separatism. If you are not sure of your judgment, only give credit to the revealed religions.
“It does not matter, after all, whether your belief takes the path of esotericism or exoticism; the important thing remains to be connected to the Light of the Spirit. Regardless of the shape, only the substance takes precedence. Tell yourself and your companions: where there is division, the truth cannot have a place.
“In the eyes of the people descended from Ram, the division focused on creative musical harmonies; on an aspect of the Word, if you prefer; or even on what was later called ‘the music of the spheres.’ In fact, the problem was, of course, deeper. It was based on a poor understanding of the law of duality, which presides over the course of the Universe.
“Priests began to argue that, in order to attain the Kingdom of the Spirit, it was better and even necessary to dominate nature. They therefore wanted to grant preponderance to the passive or negative element in the physical world. They chose as their emblem the color of blood, the ‘soul’ of matter, which must be directed in order to reach the ‘soul of the soul,’ the Spirit.
“Since that time, when Hindu women die, if the tradition is respected, they must be taken to the stake wrapped in a red sheet since, as women, they are symbolically passive. On the contrary, the men, who are active elements, go to the stake in an immaculate sheet, the symbol of the positive.
“In India, the schism was felt to such an extent that the cohabitation of the partisans of the two sensibilities no longer became possible. It was then—and this is a very important historical and religious fact—that India went in search of another land. They returned to the West, not to the kingdom from which their ancestors came but further south, to Asia Minor and the Mediterranean basin. Their march was very tough because they came up against the local populations. Some settled in Mesopotamia, others in Greece, and some went as far as Egypt itself.
“Arriving in Arabia, the dissidents who came from Asia confronted one of the Celtic branches installed there for more than three thousand years. They ruthlessly crushed them, leaving the survivors to wander like nomads in the desert; they were called Hebrews, that is to say, ‘wandering men.’ “It was from that moment, you see, that the Hebrew people were truly born and that most of the victors settled on the site of what was to become the empire of Babylon. Do you now understand why, in biblical times, there was this deep enmity between the Hebrews and the Babylonians? There was not only a problem of culture at the core but also one of territory.
“But let's stop here for a moment if you don't mind. My goal is not to tire you nor to daze you with an arid report of those to which our interview relates. I want you to see with your own eyes in order to relive the past in a few pages, as you started to do. We are not, however, going back to the sides of the Emerald Mountain[1].”
THE NATURE OF THE AURAL WORLD
I watch my guide with an attentive eye, ready to accept any new proposal he makes.
“I think it amuses you!” he says, blinking lightly. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” I answer.
My friend's voice becomes softer, but also deeper. I say, “the voice”; however, the reader must understand me. I should write, “the impression of the voice of my friend's thought produced internally.” Telepathy in fact creates a sensation different from that of speech. We cannot really speak of the telepathic sound of a word but rather of its relative warmth and degree of penetration. It is important, I believe, to make this parenthesis, at the risk of breaking the thread of the story somewhat.
Those who have read this book so far will no doubt have mainly retained from the astral universe what I would call visual impressions, that is to say, pictures of its marvelous landscapes and its perfect constructions, perhaps. Or of the face of our guide as I tried to portray him.
All this, however, cannot give an idea of the atmosphere the communications with the astral create. This special atmosphere is only recreated by the telepathic sensations that it bathes in. For whoever is writing these lines, the astral world is above all a warm and deep vibration, the “voice” of the blue being with the oblong face, a voice that stands out from among a thousand, and another “voice” emanating from each flower and every tree. A spoken word, heard and felt, is the most powerful of the instruments of creation. How many times has my guide tried to make me aware of this?
I am now standing in front of him. He has just put a hand on my shoulder, and I feel he wants me to understand his thoughts well.
“I want you to have another experience, but I don't want the experience for the experience’s sake. You have to drive out of your mind any taste for the sensational or whatever triggers curiosity for curiosity’s sake. Do not confuse the sensational with the marvelous because if the whole universe is a treasure chest or cornucopia, it is marvelous but not sensational. If humans only retain stories of surprising, amusing, fairytale experiences from your book, then the goal will be missed.
“You see, I will in a few moments give you the possibility of consulting the Memory of Time[2] without you having to go to the place you know. I am going to do this in order to enable you to measure, once again, the extent of the power of will. So, what I'm going to show you is for what it will teach you and not for its spectacular nature.
“Your astral body will remain here with me; only its most refined part will emerge from it and put itself in direct connection with the Memory of Time. Do not be afraid. During these few moments, which will seem very long to you, my will will allow your consciousness to sail toward other horizons.”
With complete confidence, I look my guide in the eye. His face disappears, like a puzzle whose pieces are suddenly scattered. Only his smile remains within me in a whirlwind of light. I believe I am falling into a bottomless abyss... I am not afraid; the clarity is such that it seems to identify with Life itself and with Love in its pure state. Isn't it the narrowness of my earthly senses that make me mistake a fall for what is, in reality, an extraordinary ascension?
Suddenly, a violent shock pulls me from my state of bliss. The painful sensation arises, as usual, in the navel and immediately passes out. For a few moments, I think I am suffocating. My consciousness is once again trapped in the body of a man who lived a very long time ago... Or who is alive now, maybe...? It doesn't matter anymore.
“I am with you,” my guide says.
The voice of my guide echoes in my center with surprising clarity. Should we be surprised or marvel at it? I do not know. It all happens so quickly! I do not know where I am and in what time “I” am living in. The voice continues.
BABYLON EXPLAINED
“Here is Babylon; Babylon is born!” said the voice.
An entire city stretches out at my feet, or rather, a large village. No imposing construction catches my eye. Only, perhaps, a building vaguely resembling a pyramid rises above the others. Its forms are heavy and imperfect. I can see large blankets and a few pillars adorned with sculptures that I cannot easily distinguish. The impression that emerges from this large village is strange. It becomes one with the ground, rough and like ocher.
Beyond, a few palm trees add a green tuft to this austere ensemble. In the distance, plowed and meager pastures nevertheless give a touch of gaiety to the landscape. The sun is not very high in the sky. By the slightly orange luminosity of the stone and mud constructions, I guess that the last hours of the day are approaching.
So far, I haven't moved, but now, my borrowed body starts to take a few steps to the left and then pivots on itself. I am now walking on a terrace or at the top of an imposing square tower or similar building, and I am no longer alone. Two men with long, black hair held in place by a headband are leaning on a balustrade of large stones. They both wear a long, pale-colored robe, cinched at the waist with a wide saffron belt, and their feet are bare.
I can't make out the faces of these two men, who are looking at the landscape in the opposite direction to the one I could see before. On this side, the big village has become a town. We can see some towers and ramparts that seem unfinished. The landscape is greener.
The voice of my guide can be heard again:
“Do you see that big building over there with a wide door and two square columns with a fire burning in front of them? This is the home of a warrior priest named Vélu. He is the one who has established the foundations of this city, Babylon, or Babel if you prefer. He is the Nimrod of which the Old Testament speaks. He led the separatists of India to this land and will allow the peculiarities of their cult to increase dramatically. He is fundamentally not a bad man, but he is deeply full of himself and dreams of great material power. He will obtain this power because the priests who support him have a lot of influence over the people.
“But he is wrong and opens the way to the sons of Belial. The name of his city, Babylon, will be synonymous with error and crime for millennia. Babel will personalize the negative forces of the universe to the point of making them a Spirit as powerful as God because he allows them to indulge themselves without restraint in all kinds of magical practices. Think about that!
“Note, also, it is always the wrong interpretation of the primitive duality that is at the source of the errors. The sight of this city is of little interest to you, however. Let yourself go; do not try to direct your consciousness toward this or that place. I'm going to take you to Vélu's palace instead.”
My guide draws a veil of light before my eyes of my consciousness. No more towers, no more ramparts, no more sun-colored earth, and no more pastures. I am absorbed by space. The murmur of a crowd draws me from nowhere... or from Infinity.
I am now in a large room with mighty stone walls. Rare torches give off a diffused light that seems to endlessly die. I am there, standing, like hundreds of other men with dark brown faces, scarlet, and saffron robes. I look straight ahead, toward the wall where a mighty figure stands out, arms outstretched. The man wears a loose red dress edged in white. My eyes go to his hard face, underlined by an ebony-colored beard. He has the aquiline nose and gaze of those who dominate the crowds. It is a strange, steely gaze, which seems at this moment to seek vagueness, in the heart of a semi-darkness, perhaps, or in himself.
The murmur of the crowd ceases, then the man puts his hands together and closes his eyelids. A heavy silence reigns. I only perceive the crackle of the flames, which light us up unequally. By my side, an old man with a long, gray beard catches my attention. I would prefer to watch him, but my body cannot respond to my will; my body is that of another, and I endure it. I feel that it’s full of burning impatience. Impatience for what?
I would not know how to say it. The others—my neighbors, the crowd—seem profoundly calm. What are they doing—are they waiting for a solemn declaration? Are they praying? Tears bead at the corners of the eyelids of the old man with the long, gray beard. Is it emotion or old age?
Suddenly, the man with his imposing bearing and iron gaze climbs a few steps that I have not noticed before now. On a gray stone table, he grabs a long, dark-colored stick, which seems to be of extraordinary importance, as the man holds it up with his eyes closed above the silent crowd. With its point, he traces signs in the air, the meaning of which I do not understand, then around himself, and finally, he draws arabesques on the ground.
A chant rises from the crowd, deep, captivating, and hypnotic. It rises in volutes, like smoke toward the ceiling of the vast room. My borrowed eyes seem to want to follow its ascent by scanning the darkness upward, toward the heavy slabs of the ceiling, and I discover... a wide opening. Outside, it is dark, and the celestial vault appears to be of infinite purity. A star shines, making all the others pale, and its shine both burns and freezes my eyes.
“Venus!” says the voice of my guide, who I had almost forgotten. “Venus badly loved and misunderstood... Venus deified and the source of an obsolete cult! Venus’ planet will get closer to Earth and soon create cataclysms. These men are afraid of her. They want to please and dominate her through magic, the science of ‘elementals’, of the universe of phenomena.
But the magic remains only magic. There is only one step away from white to black magic, mostly because of how a consciousness and a will can easily be taken over. Vélu, his successors and Babel will get lost in it. The Spirit and the Almighty are outside of all matter.
“Let men meditate on this: the cult established by Vélu was poorly assimilated by the dark forces of nature. It was a misguided lunar cult, magnified out of all proportion.
“Your Moon is the bearer of science by being one of the symbols of the universal motor. Remember what I told you before that Science is neutral. And also know nobody is neutral when using Science. Will your contemporaries understand?
“Some men are rediscovering... Turn your eyes toward the American continent, toward its space bases, and reflect while considering the motto of one of the NASA programs:
“‘Ex luna scientia’, i.e., from the moon comes science. Understand ‘a’ science, whose knowledge can burn many hearts. Come back to me, now. Babylon is nothing more than the past. I want you to turn your eyes to the other side.”
SONS OF ION
Desire was enough. The Spirit asks and obtains. My mental body appears to me again, breathing the astral light through all its pores, as my guide stands a short distance from me, feet licked by the golden foam of the waves. He walks then stops for a moment and looks at me. He smiles with his small eyes and seems to be waiting for a word from me.
“How can I describe all this?” I said. “Will men ever believe that the past can come back to life?”
“Don't worry about it; some will believe, and some won't. Some know how to love, and others do not. All will end up believing and loving. All of them!”
While speaking, my guide no longer lets the waves play with his feet. He goes up to the coconut palms and makes a sign for me to follow him.
“You said earlier that some of the separatists continued west and that not all of them stopped with Vélu. What happened to them?”
“Oh! that's a whole different story! However, you have to know it, and that has to be published. The ancient Celts, who first became Asians and did not follow the destiny of Babylon, continued their journey as far as Thrace, that is to say, globally, up to the surroundings of present-day Bulgaria.”
“Did they, too, persevere on the path they had chosen when they left India?” I ask.
“Yes, they continued to develop the passive side of the Divine Principle. They ended up advancing toward present-day Greece where various influences were to mingle with theirs. From there, these conquerors of Thrace took the name of “Son of Ion.” Pay close attention to that name, “Ion.” Ion is the symbol of everything that is a generator. To be more precise, it summarizes the plastic constitution of the physical universes. It is the yin of the Chinese. In Greek mythology, the father of Ion is Apollo, one of the aspects of the Eternal and Infinite Father. On the other hand, have you never heard of ionic columns in architecture? They were bequeathed to us by this time. All this may seem a little difficult to you, but it should nevertheless be remembered because it summarizes an extremely important page of history. If you think about it, it explains a lot.”
“Yes I understand,” I say. “I see how a misunderstanding can have harmful consequences. It doesn't take much for civilizations to move away from each other and come to hate each other. The whites who came from Asia did not know how to recognize their brothers among the whites of Asia Minor.”
“Yes, and you will see that things did not stay there.”
“Do you mean that some of the dissidents did not stop either in Thrace or Greece?”
“That's right. They continued, in fact, their invasion of Egypt, where their influence was disastrous.”
“So, it happened suddenly!” I affirmed.
“No, Egypt has been invaded in successive waves. Do you remember Amun, one of the many symbols of the passive forces of nature? From that time on, his cult was substituted for Aten, the Unique and Solar God, inherited from the Atlantean Red race.”
Sitting in the shelter of dazzling vegetation, I slide the precious grains of hot sand between my fingers. I search deep in my memory for a comparable moment or such a serene link. I am looking, but I also know that I will not find any because here, it is “elsewhere,” another time, and other beings. I then remember a little phrase from Teilhard de Chardin: “Only the fantastic has a chance of being true.”
But let's listen to my blue-faced friend because his words teach me more than many books.
“Let’s leave Greece and Egypt aside for a bit and talk more about history in general.
What I reproach historians for, you see, is that they don't look at what they have in front of their eyes. At all times, these specialists have fragmented history and, in doing so, distorted it. It is necessary, if men want to move forward, that they learn to comprehensively perceive the succession of events on Earth for millennia. If they are studying an era, then let them consider all the countries of the globe at the same time.
When this principle is correctly applied, knowledge of civilizations and religions will leap forward. Oh! I can already hear the protests! ‘Religions, always religions!’ It is precisely because men and their civilizations are in part the product of their past and present beliefs and therefore of their religions. As the geography of a country is essential, so are the beliefs of the people. If I opened this parenthesis, it is to introduce an overview of the countries that we have just mentioned about the white people. I want you to know that in the space of a few centuries, concerted action was taken across the world by the Messengers of the Divine Word.”
The final Part Three of this blog will be published in March.
This blog “The Land of the Seven Plow Oxen” is an excerpt from “Récits d’un voyageur de l’Astral” by Daniel Meurois and Anne Givaudan. © Daniel Meurois
[1] The Himalaya Mountains
[2] Akashic records
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