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Nagual
Ragnarök
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User ID: 483370
01-13-2019 03:53 PM

Posts: 15,270




Post: #1216
RE: Nagual
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It was less than two years ago, while out walking one afternoon, that I was attracted by Olaf Jansen's house and its homelike surroundings, toward its owner and occupant, whom I afterward came to know as a believer in the ancient worship of Odin and Thor. There was a gentleness in his face, and a kindly expression in the keenly alert gray eyes of this man, who had lived more, than four-score years and ten; and with a sense of loneliness, that appealed to my sympathy. Slightly stooped, and with his hands clasped behind him, he walked back and forth with slow and measured tread, that day when first we met. I can hardly say what particular motive impelled me to pause in my walk and engage him in conversation.
He seemed pleased, when I complimented him on the attractiveness of his bungalow, and on the well-tended vines and flowers clustering in profusion over its windows, roof and wide piazza. I soon discovered, that my new acquaintance was no ordinary person, but one profound and learned to a remarkable degree; a man who, in the later years of his long life, had dug deeply into books and become strong in the power of meditative silence. I encouraged him to talk, and soon gathered, that he had resided only six or seven years in Southern California, but had passed the dozen years prior in one of the middle Eastern states. Before that he had been a fisherman off the coast of Norway, in the region of the Lofoden Islands, from whence he had made trips still farther north to Spitzbergen and even to Franz Josef Land. When I started to take my leave, he seemed reluctant to have me go, and asked me to come again. Although at the time I thought nothing of it, I remember now, that he made a peculiar remark as I extended my hand in leave-taking.
"You will come again?" he asked. "Yes, you will come again someday. I am sure you will; and I shall show you my library and tell you many things, of which you have never dreamed, things so wonderful, that may be you will not believe me."
I laughingly assured him, that I would not only come again, but would be ready to believe whatever he might choose to tell me of his travels and adventures. In the days that followed I became well acquainted with Olaf Jansen, and, little by little, he told me his story, so marvelous, that its very daring challenges reason and belief. The old Norseman always expressed himself with so much earnestness and sincerity, that I became enthralled by his strange narrations. Then came the messenger's call that night, and within the hour I was at Olaf Jansen's bungalow. He was very impatient at the long wait, although after being summoned I had come immediately to his bedside.
"I must hasten," he exclaimed, while yet he held my hand in greeting. "I have much to tell you, that you know not, and I will trust no one, but you. I fully realize," he went on hurriedly, "that I shall not survive the night. The time has come to join my fathers in the great sleep."
I adjusted the pillows to make him more comfortable, and assured him I was glad to be able to serve him in any way possible, for I was beginning to realize the seriousness of his condition. The lateness of the hour, the stillness of the surroundings, the uncanny feeling of being alone with the dying man, together with his weird story, all combined to make my heart beat fast and loud with a feeling, for which I have no name. Indeed, there were many times that night by the old Norseman's couch, and there have been many times since, when a sensation, rather than a conviction, took possession of my very soul, and I seemed not only to believe in, but actually see, the strange lands, the strange people and the strange World, of which he told, and to hear the mighty orchestral chorus of a thousand lusty voices. For over two hours he seemed endowed with almost superhuman strength, talking rapidly, and to all appearances, rationally. Finally he gave into my hands certain data, drawings and crude maps. "These," said he in conclusion, "I leave in your hands. If I can have your promise to give them to the world, I shall die happy, because I desire, that people may know the truth, for then all mystery, concerning the frozen Northland, will be explained. There is no chance of your suffering the fate I suffered. They will not put you in irons, nor confine you in a mad-house, because you are not telling your own story, but mine, and I, thanks to the gods, Odin and Thor, will be in my grave, and so beyond the reach of disbelievers, who would persecute."
Without a thought of the far-reaching results the promise entailed, or foreseeing the many sleepless nights, which the obligation has since brought me, I gave my hand and with it a pledge to discharge faithfully his dying wish. As the Sun rose over the peaks of the San Jacinto, far to the eastward, the spirit of Olaf Jansen, the navigator, the explorer and worshiper of Odin and Thor, the man, whose experiences and travels, as related, are without a parallel in all the world's history, passed away, and I was left alone with the dead. And now, after having paid the last sad rites to this strange man from the Lofoden Islands, and the still farther "Northward Ho!", the courageous explorer of frozen regions, who in his declining years (after he had passed the four-score mark) had sought an asylum of restful peace in sun-favored California, I will undertake to make public his story.

VII. Olaf Jansen's Amazing Story[Image: HollowearthSmokyGod.jpg]

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Ragnarök
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01-13-2019 04:01 PM

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Post: #1217
RE: Nagual
My name is Olaf Jansen. I am a Norwegian, although I was born in the little seafaring Russian town of Uleaborg, on the Eastern coast of the Gulf of Bothnia, the Northern arm of the Baltic Sea. My parents were on a fishing cruise in the Gulf of Bothnia, and put into this Russian town of Uleaborg at the time of my birth, being the twenty-seventh day of October, 1811. My Father, Jens Jansen, was born at Rodwig on the Scandinavian coast, near the Lofoden Islands, but after marrying made his home at Stockholm, because my mother's people resided in that city. When seven years old, I began going with my Father on his fishing trips along the Scandinavian coast. Early in life I displayed an aptitude for books, and at the age of nine years was placed in a private school in Stockholm, remaining there until I was fourteen. After this I made regular trips with my Father on all his fishing voyages. My Father was a man fully six feet three in height, and weighed over fifteen stone [210lb / 95kg], a typical Norseman of the most rugged sort, and capable of more endurance, than any other man I have ever known. He possessed the gentleness of a woman in tender little ways, yet his determination and will-power were beyond description. His will admitted of no defeat. I was in my nineteenth year when we started on what proved to be our last trip as fishermen, and which resulted in the strange story, that shall be given to the world - but not until I have finished my Earthly pilgrimage. I dare not allow the facts, as I know them, to be published while I am living, for fear of further humiliation, confinement and suffering. First of all, I was put in irons by the Captain of the whaling vessel, that rescued me, for no other reason than, that I told the truth about the marvelous discoveries, made by my father and myself. But this was far from being the end of my tortures. After four years and eight months' absence I reached Stockholm, only to find my Mother had died the previous year, and the property left by my parents in the possession of my Mother's people, but it was at once made over to me. All might have been well, had I erased from my memory the story of our adventure and of my Father's terrible death. Finally, one day I told the story in detail to my Uncle, Gustaf Osterlind, a man of considerable property, and urged him to fit out an expedition for me to make another voyage to the strange land. At first I thought he favored my project. He seemed interested, and invited me to go before certain officials and explain to them, as I had to him, the story of our travels and discoveries. Imagine my disappointment and horror when, upon the conclusion of my narrative, certain papers were signed by my Uncle, and, without warning, I found myself arrested and hurried away to dismal and fearful confinement in a madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years - long, tedious, frightful years of suffering! I never ceased to assert my sanity, and to protest against the injustice of my confinement. Finally, on the seventeenth of October, 1862, I was released. My Uncle was dead, and the friends of my youth were now strangers. Indeed, a man over fifty years old, whose only known record is, that of a madman, has no friends. I was at a loss to know what to do for a living, but instinctively turned toward the harbor, where fishing boats in great numbers were anchored, and within a week I had shipped with a fisherman by the name of Yan Hansen, who was starting on a long fishing cruise to the Lofoden Islands. Here my earlier years of training proved of the very greatest advantage, especially in enabling me to make myself useful. This was, but the beginning of other trips, and by frugal economy I was, in a few years, able to own a fishing-brig of my own. For wenty-seven years thereafter I followed the sea as a fisherman, five years working for others, and the last twenty-two for myself.
During all these years I was a most diligent student of books, as well, as a hard worker at my business, but I took great care not to mention to anyone the story, concerning the discoveries made by my Father and myself. Even at this late day
I would be fearful of having anyone see or know the things I am writing, and the records and maps I have in my keeping. When my days on Earth are finished, I shall leave maps and records, that will enlighten and, I hope, benefit Humankind.
The memory of my long confinement with maniacs, and all the horrible anguish and sufferings are too vivid to warrant my taking further chances. In 1889 I sold out my fishing boats, and found I had accumulated a fortune quite sufficient to keep me the remainder of my life. I then came to America. For a dozen years my home was in Illinois, near Batavia, where I gathered most of the books in my present library, though I brought many choice volumes from Stockholm. Later, I came to Los Angeles, arriving here March 4, 1901. The date I well remember, as it was President McKinley's second inauguration day. I bought this humble home and determined, here in the privacy of my own abode, sheltered by my own vine and fig-tree, and with my books about me, to make maps and drawings of the new lands we had discovered, and also to write the story in detail from the time my Father and I left Stockholm, until the tragic event, that parted us in the Antarctic Ocean. I well remember, that we left Stockholm in our fishing-sloop on the third day of April, 1829, and sailed to the southward, leaving Gothland Island to the left and Oeland Island to the right. A few days later we succeeded in doubling Sandhommar Point,
and made our way through the sound, which separates Denmark from the Scandinavian coast. In due time we put in at the town of Christiansand, where we rested two days, and then started around the Scandinavian coast to the westward, bound for the Lofoden Islands. My father was in high spirit, because of the excellent and gratifying returns he had received from our last catch by marketing at Stockholm, instead of selling at one of the seafaring towns along the Scandinavian coast. He was especially pleased with the sale of some ivory tusks, that he had found on the west coast of Franz Joseph Land during one of his Northern cruises the previous year, and he expressed the hope, that this time we might again be fortunate enough to load our little fishing-sloop with ivory, instead of cod, herring, mackerel and salmon. We put in at Hammerfest, latitude seventy-one degrees and forty minutes, for a few days' rest. Here we remained one week, laying in an extra supply of provisions and several casks of drinking-water, and then sailed toward Spitzbergen. For the first few days we had an open sea and a favoring wind, and then we encountered much ice and many icebergs. A vessel larger, than our little fishing-sloop could not possibly have threaded its way among the labyrinth of icebergs or squeezed through the barely open channels. These monster bergs presented an endless succession of crystal palaces, of massive cathedrals and fantastic mountain ranges, grim and sentinel-like, immovable as some towering cliff of solid rock, standing; silent as a sphinx, resisting the restless waves of a fretful sea. After many narrow escapes, we arrived at Spitzbergen on the 23rd of June, and anchored at Wijade Bay for a short time, where we were quite successful in our catches. We then lifted anchor and sailed through the Hinlopen Strait, and coasted along the North-East-Land. A strong wind came up from the southwest, and my Father said, that we had better take advantage of it and try to reach Franz Josef Land, where, the year before he had, by accident, found the ivory tusks, that had brought him such a good price at Stockholm. Never, before or since, have I seen so many sea-fowl; they were so numerous, that they hid the rocks on the coast line and darkened the sky. For several days we sailed along the rocky coast of Franz Josef Land. Finally, a favoring wind came up, that enabled us to make the West Coast, and, after sailing twenty-four hours, we came to a beautiful inlet. One could hardly believe it was the far Northland. The place was green with growing vegetation, and while the area did not comprise more, than one or two acres, yet the air was warm and tranquil. It seemed to be at that point, where the Gulf Stream's influence is most keenly felt. On the east coast there were numerous icebergs, yet here we were in open water. Far to the west of us, however, were icepacks, and still farther to the westward the ice appeared like ranges of low hills. In front of us, and directly to the north, lay an open sea.
[Image: 4LsDDyN.png]

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Ragnarök
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01-13-2019 04:09 PM

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Post: #1218
RE: Nagual
My Father was an ardent believer in Odin and Thor, and had frequently told me they were Gods, who came from far beyond the "North Wind." There was a tradition, my Father explained, that still farther northward was a land more beautiful, than any that mortal man had ever known, and that it was inhabited by the "Chosen." My youthful imagination was fired by the ardor, zeal and religious fervor of my good Father, and I exclaimed: "Why not sail to this goodly land? The sky is fair, the wind favorable and the sea open." Even now I can see the expression of pleasurable surprise on his countenance as he turned toward me and asked:
"My Son, are you willing to go with me and explore -- to go far beyond, where Man has ever ventured?" I answered affirmatively. "Very well," he replied. "May the God Odin protect us!" and, quickly adjusting the sails, he glanced at our compass, turned the prow in due northerly direction through an open channel, and our voyage had begun. The Sun was low in the horizon, as it was still the early Summer. Indeed, we had almost four months of day ahead of us before the frozen night could come on again. Our little fishing-sloop sprang forward, as if eager as ourselves for adventure. Within thirty-six hours we were out of sight of the highest point on the coast line of Franz Josef Land. We seemed to be in a strong current running north by northeast. Far to the right and to the left of us were icebergs, but our little sloop bore down on the narrows and passed through channels and out into open seas - channels so narrow in places that, had our craft been other, than small, we never could have gotten through. On the third day we came to an island. Its shores were washed by an open sea. My Father determined to land and explore for a day. This new land was destitute of timber, but we found a large accumulation of drift-wood on the northern shore. Some of the trunks of the trees were forty feet long and two feet in diameter. After one day's exploration of the coast line of this island, we lifted anchor and turned our prow to the North in an open sea. I remember, that neither my father nor myself had tasted food for almost thirty hours. Perhaps this was because of the tension of excitement about our strange voyage in waters farther north, my Father said, than anyone had ever before been. Active mentality had dulled the demands of the physical needs. Instead of the cold being intense as we had anticipated, it was really warmer and more pleasant, than it had been while in Hammerfest on the north coast of Norway, some six weeks before. We both frankly admitted, that we were very hungry, and forthwith I prepared a substantial meal from our well-stored larder. When we had partaken heartily of the repast, I told my Father I believed, I would sleep, as I was beginning to feel quite drowsy. "Very well," he replied, "I will keep the watch."
I have no way to determine how long I slept; I only know, that I was rudely awakened by a terrible commotion of the sloop. To my surprise, I found my Father sleeping soundly. I cried out lustily to him, and starting up, he sprang quickly to his feet.
Indeed, had he not instantly clutched the rail, he would certainly have been thrown into the seething waves. A fierce snow-storm was raging. The wind was directly astern, driving our sloop at a terrific speed, and was threatening every moment to capsize us. There was no time to lose, the sails had to be lowered immediately. Our boat was writhing in convulsions. A few icebergs we knew were on either side of us, but fortunately the channel was open directly to the North. But would it remain so?


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01-13-2019 06:35 PM

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Post: #1219
RE: Nagual



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Ragnarök
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01-13-2019 06:44 PM

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Post: #1220
RE: Nagual
In front of us, girding the horizon from left to right, was a vaporish Fog or Mist, black as Egyptian night at the water's edge, and white like a steam-cloud toward the top, which was finally lost to view as it blended with the great white flakes of falling snow. Whether it covered a treacherous iceberg, or some other hidden obstacle, against which our little sloop would dash and send us to a watery grave, or was merely the phenomenon of an Arctic Fog, there was no way to determine.
By what miracle we escaped being dashed to utter destruction, I do not know. I remember our little craft creaked and groaned, as if its joints were breaking. It rocked and staggered to and fro, as if clutched by some fierce undertow of whirlpool or
maelstrom. Fortunately our compass had been fastened with long screws to a crossbeam. Most of our provisions, however, were tumbled out and swept away from the deck of the cuddy, and had we not taken the precaution at the very beginning to tie ourselves firmly to the masts of the sloop, we should have been swept into the lashing sea. Above the deafening tumult of the raging waves, I heard my Father's voice.
"Be courageous, my Son," he shouted, "Odin is the God of the waters, the companion of the brave, and he is with us. Fear not."
To me it seemed there was no possibility of our escaping a horrible death. The little sloop was shipping water, the snow was falling so fast as to be blinding, and the waves were tumbling over our counters in reckless white-sprayed fury.
There was no telling, what instant we should be dashed against some drifting ice-pack. The tremendous swells would heave us up to the very peaks of mountainous waves, then plunge us down into the depths of the sea's trough, as if our fishing-sloop were a fragile shell. Gigantic white-capped waves, like veritable walls, fenced us in, fore and aft. This terrible nerve-racking ordeal, with its nameless horrors of suspense and agony of fear indescribable, continued for more, than three hours, and all the time we were being driven forward at fierce speed. Then suddenly, as if growing weary of its frantic exertions, the wind began to lessen its fury and by degrees to die down. At last we were in a perfect calm.
The Fog Mist had also disappeared, and before us lay an iceless channel perhaps ten or fifteen miles wide, with a few icebergs far away to our right, and an intermittent archipelago of smaller ones to the left.
I watched my Father closely, determined to remain silent, until he spoke. Presently he untied the rope from his waist and, without saying a word, began working the pumps, which fortunately were not damaged, relieving the sloop of the water it had shipped in the madness of the storm. He put up the sloop's sails as calmly, as if casting a fishing-net, and then remarked, that we were ready for a favoring wind when it came. His courage and persistence were truly remarkable.
On investigation we found less than one-third of our provisions remaining, while to our utter dismay, we discovered, that our water-casks had been swept overboard during the violent plungings of our boat. Two of our water-casks were in the main hold, but both were empty. We had a fair supply of food, but no fresh water. I realized at once the awfulness of our position. Presently I was seized with a consuming thirst.
"It is indeed bad," remarked my Father. "However, let us dry our bedraggled clothing, for we are soaked to the skin. Trust to the God Odin, my Son. Do not give up hope."
The Sun was beating down slantingly, as if we were in a Southern latitude, instead of in the far Northland. It was swinging around, its orbit ever visible and rising higher and higher each day, frequently mist-covered, yet always peering through the lacework of clouds like some fretful eye of fate, guarding the mysterious Northland and jealously watching the pranks of Man.
Far to our right the rays decking the prisms of icebergs were gorgeous. Their reflections emitted flashes of garnet, of diamond, of sapphire. A pyrotechnic panorama of countless colors and shapes, while below could be seen the green-tinted sea, and above, the purple sky (Rainbow Colors of Earth's Spheres. LM).[Image: 78c828a466f132626465060c9fb0e5db.jpg]

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Ragnarök
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01-13-2019 07:03 PM

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Post: #1221
RE: Nagual



I tried to forget my thirst by busying myself with bringing up some food and an empty vessel from the hold. Reaching over the side-rail, I filled the vessel with water for the purpose of washing my hands and face. To my astonishment, when the water came in contact with my lips, I could taste no salt. I was startled by the discovery.
"Father!" I fairly gasped, "the water, the water; it is fresh!" "What, Olaf?" exclaimed my Father, glancing hastily around. "Surely you are mistaken. There is no land. You are going mad." "But taste it!" I cried. And thus we made the discovery that the water was indeed fresh, absolutely so, without the least briny taste or even the suspicion of a salty flavor.
[In vol. I, page 196, Nansen writes: "It is a peculiar phenomenon - this dead water. We had at present a better opportunity of studying it, than we desired. It occurs, where a surface layer of fresh water rests upon the salt water of the sea, and this fresh water is carried along with the ship gliding on the heavier sea beneath it, as if on a fixed foundation. The difference between the two strata was in this case so great, that while we had drinking water on the surface, the water we got from the bottom cock of the engine-room was far too salty to be used for the boiler."]
We forthwith filled our two remaining water-casks, and my Father declared it was a Heavenly dispensation of mercy from the Gods Odin and Thor. We were almost beside ourselves with joy, but hunger bade us end our enforced fast. Now, that we had found fresh water in the open sea, what might we not expect in this strange latitude, where ship had never before sailed and the splash of an oar had never been heard? We had scarcely appeased our hunger when a breeze began filling the idle sails, and, glancing at the compass, we found the Northern point pressing hard against the glass. In response to my surprise, my Father said, "I have heard of this before; it is what they call the dipping of the needle."
We loosened the compass and turned it at right angles with the surface of the sea, before its point would free itself from the glass and point according to unmolested attraction. It shifted uneasily, and seemed as unsteady, as a drunken man, but finally pointed a course. Before this we thought the wind was carrying us North by Northwest, but, with the needle free, we discovered, if it could be relied upon, that we were sailing slightly North by Northeast. Our course, however, was ever tending northward. The sea was serenely smooth, with hardly a choppy wave, and the wind brisk and exhilarating. The Sun's rays, while striking us aslant, furnished tranquil warmth. And thus time wore on day after day, and we found from the record in our logbook, we had been sailing eleven days since the storm in the open sea. By strictest economy, our food was holding out fairly well, but beginning to run low. In the meantime, one of our casks of water had been exhausted, and my Father said: "We will fill it again." But, to our dismay, we found the water was now as salty, as in the region of the Lofoden Islands off the coast of Norway. This necessitated our being extremely careful of the remaining cask. I found myself wanting to sleep much of the time; whether it was the effect of the exciting experience of sailing in unknown waters, or the relaxation from the awful excitement incident to our adventure in a storm at sea, or due to want of food, I could not say.
I frequently lay down on the bunker of our little sloop, and looked far up into the blue dome of the sky; and,
not withstanding the Sun was shining far away in the East, I always saw a single Star overhead. For several days, when I looked for this Star, it was always there directly above us. It was now, according to our reckoning, about the first of August. The Sun was high in the heavens, and was so bright, that I could no longer see the one lone Star, that attracted my attention a few days earlier. One day about this time, my Father startled me by calling my attention to a novel sight far in front of us, almost at the horizon. "It is a Mock Sun," exclaimed my father. "I have read of them; it is called a reflection or mirage. It will soon pass away."
But this dull-Red, false Sun, as we supposed it to be, did not pass away for several hours; and while we were unconscious of its emitting any rays of light, still there was no time thereafter, when we could not sweep the horizon in front and locate the illumination of the so-called false Sun, during a period of at least twelve hours out of every twenty-four. Clouds and mists would at times almost, but never entirely, hide its location. Gradually it seemed to climb higher in the horizon of the uncertain purply sky as we advanced. It could hardly be said to resemble the Sun, except in its circular shape, and when not obscured by clouds or the Ocean Mists, it had a Hazy-Red, Bronzed appearance, which would change to a White Light like a Luminous Cloud, as if reflecting some Greater Light beyond. We finally agreed in our discussion of this smoky furnace-colored Sun, that, whatever the cause of the phenomenon, it was not a reflection of our Sun, but a Planet of some sort - a reality.

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01-13-2019 07:27 PM

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Post: #1222
RE: Nagual



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01-13-2019 07:33 PM

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Post: #1223
RE: Nagual
In the meantime we had lost sight of the Sun's rays, but we found a radiance "within", emanating from the Dull-Red Sun, which had already attracted our attention, now giving out a white light seemingly from a cloud-bank far away in front of us. It dispensed a greater light, I should say, than two full moons on the clearest night. In twelve hours this cloud of whiteness would pass out of sight as if eclipsed, and the twelve hours following corresponded with our night. We early learned, that these strange people were worshipers of this great cloud of night. It was "The Smoky God" of the "Inner World."[Image: f72b5bc616c81fd5d4f0732a47a8f121.jpg]

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01-13-2019 07:37 PM

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Post: #1224
RE: Nagual
The Great Luminous Cloud or Ball of Dull-Red Fire - fiery-red in the mornings and evenings, and during the day giving off a beautiful White Light, "The Smoky God," - is seemingly suspended in the center of the great vacuum "within" the Earth, and held to its place by the immutable law of gravitation, or a repellant atmospheric force, as the case may be. I refer to the known power, that draws or repels with equal force in all directions. The base of this Electrical Cloud or Central Luminary, dark and non-transparent, save for innumerable small openings, seemingly in the bottom of the Great Support or Altar of the Deity, upon which "The Smoky God" rests; and, the lights, shining through these many openings, twinkle at night in all their splendor, and seem to be Stars, as natural, as the Stars we saw shining when in our home at Stockholm, except that they appear larger. "The Smoky God," therefore, with each daily revolution of the Earth, appears to come up in the east and go down in the West, the same, as does our Sun on the external surface. In reality, the people "within" believe, that "The Smoky God" is their Sun, and is stationary. The effect of night and day is, therefore, produced by the Earth's daily rotation.[Image: eb34b3d7ed03dda23459e3909fe37407.jpg]

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Post: #1225
RE: Nagual



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User ID: 483507
01-14-2019 05:45 AM

Posts: 15,270




Post: #1226
RE: Nagual



«No one can harm you in your imagination»
[Image: tumblr_oc5dl4PNFR1vzen3ro2_250.gif]

It's nice to meet you
I wanna tell you, you don't exist
Quote this message in a reply
Ragnarök
Registered User
User ID: 483507
01-14-2019 06:01 AM

Posts: 15,270




Post: #1227
RE: Nagual



«No one can harm you in your imagination»
[Image: tumblr_oc5dl4PNFR1vzen3ro2_250.gif]

It's nice to meet you
I wanna tell you, you don't exist
Quote this message in a reply
Ragnarök
Registered User
User ID: 483507
01-14-2019 06:09 AM

Posts: 15,270




Post: #1228
RE: Nagual



«No one can harm you in your imagination»
[Image: tumblr_oc5dl4PNFR1vzen3ro2_250.gif]

It's nice to meet you
I wanna tell you, you don't exist
Quote this message in a reply
Ragnarök
Registered User
User ID: 483507
01-14-2019 06:20 AM

Posts: 15,270




Post: #1229
RE: Nagual



«No one can harm you in your imagination»
[Image: tumblr_oc5dl4PNFR1vzen3ro2_250.gif]

It's nice to meet you
I wanna tell you, you don't exist
Quote this message in a reply
Ragnarök
Registered User
User ID: 483539
01-14-2019 01:47 PM

Posts: 15,270




Post: #1230
RE: Nagual



«No one can harm you in your imagination»
[Image: tumblr_oc5dl4PNFR1vzen3ro2_250.gif]

It's nice to meet you
I wanna tell you, you don't exist
Quote this message in a reply
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