“I am going to tell it all, you know. I am going to warn everyone about your lies.”
He laughed cheerfully at me. “Most people will not believe you. And the few that do listen, will believe our side of the story. Either way, you lose. You can’t change anyone.”
THE RAINBOW MAN
After scorching temperatures of 105 all summer, the thermometer had finally dropped to 82 degrees. Just the day before, I joked with my neighbor that I could “almost feel fall in the air.” I was hoping for a less humid morning as I poured my coffee and headed for the porch. It was a regular routine for me, to step outside first thing and determine what kind of a day to expect weather-wise. It was my time to enjoy the songbirds and think a few deep thoughts.
I had only closed my eyes for a moment, appreciating the cool breeze against my cheeks. It indicated a possible early morning rain. I heard a rustling noise and upon opening my eyes, found a tall muscular stranger standing on the steps. Normally, anyone would have been startled, maybe even frightened. Why did I not feel a normal healthy fear? Because this man was the most beautiful striking creature I had ever laid eyes on. His magnificence disarmed me. I was hypnotized; enchanted even.
His wavy jet black hair stood at least four inches above his scalp. It was thick and luxurious and when the sunlight glazed it, I could see highlights of midnight blue. He stood about six feet and a half.
“I believe you have been expecting me,” he said.
It was as though he had searched my deepest thoughts. I had expected someone, something…but not this scenario. I had an innate feeling that someone would come… most probably to put a bullet in my head. Sometimes it’s dangerous to know too much. But I did not feel threatened by him.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Who are you and what is your business here?”
“You haven’t found anything that we have not intended for you to find. Others are on the same path, too.”
His words were jolting me but I refused to show acknowledgement of understanding. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“We communicate telepathically. That’s how you have been led to know the things that you know.” As he stepped up onto the porch, sunrays skimmed his biceps and specks of gold and copper flickered from his olive skin.
“My guidance comes from the pursuit of truth. The Holy Spirit is the spirit of truth. And I know now who you are and that you do not have the truth in your mouth.”
“May I sit and talk with you?” he asked politely.
“Suit yourself,” I said, in my best non-committal voice, though truly, I was intrigued.
He sat across from me, and at eye-level, I could not help but be mesmerized by his eyes. They were blue, no, hazel, maybe, although they had flecks of amber and light brown and bits that sparkled like copper glitter at times.
“I have never seen such beautiful eyes,” I confessed. “I have never seen so much…so many colors. Your eyes change colors with the way the light shifts. I think I even see a hint of violet.”
He smiled. “Even your most advanced geneticists do not presently know the actual number of genes that contribute to eye color. The fact is, if it weren’t for us, you would all still look like Frosty the Snowman with lumps of coal for eyes. We gave you beauty. We gave you all your delicate fleshly colors. From porcelain to ebony and every spectrum in-between, you carry some of our genetic make-up.”
“Oh, I thought you were just an angel. But now you’re taking credit for being our creators, too?
He chuckled. “Quite the contrary. Your original creators, well…lets just say you alter-humans were an experiment gone bad. Surely you know the potter has the divine right to smash a misshapen vessel. Your species did not originate on this planet. In the beginning, your particular ancestors were very childlike creatures, rather ignorant and foolish, really. And with a proclivity of aggression. That was the main problem. Very bad tempers. Even now it’s evident in that the simplest conversation between humans, it usually turns into a power struggle.” He sighed and looked afar.
“Your creators decided it would be best to ship the unstable creatures off to a sparsely inhabited planet in a far off corner of the galaxy where they would not be noticed. They did this very quietly hoping not to be discovered and then blamed for the failed experiment. To ensure this, the creators erased the memories of these first humans. They were left here to either destroy each other or to work out their genetic imbalance through adaptation. It was pretty much the same idea as when the colonization of America took place. The first shipment of colonists were all released from the debtors prisons and sent here. Same principle, really. Discards.
Anyway, other advanced humans did find out about this trans-galactic dumping and many of them have visited you over thousands of years. It became obvious that adaptation was not eliminating the bad genetics. So, with approval of the Galactic Council, a further experiment was begun. We made this known through your Bible scripture.”
“You mean Genesis 6? When the Watcher Angels left their proper abode and came down to mate with human women?”
“Proper abode? Not really. We are free to travel at will. And yes, that’s what happened. We had hoped that by introducing our gene pool into abandoned humanity that subsequent generations would eventually overcome the genetic alteration. If not, then at least the increased intelligence through the hybridization process might contribute to humans finding their own solutions in time.”
God this man was handsome! If he had been selling vacuum cleaners I would have bought one on the spot even though I don’t have one square foot of carpet in my house. But this story, I was not buying it. I knew it was all wrong and he would never convince me otherwise. We were created as perfect as every other life form on this planet. It was the watcher angels who screwed up the genetics. It was Azazel, Satan, Beelzebub, whatever you want to call him…he was the one who was corrupt and power hungry. He confronted the creator and threatened to usurp him. This is where the genetic alteration of human aggression originated.
The Father of the Lie, indeed! And for good reason. This angel told a smooth twisted tale. I knew it would sound believable to most people. It was a good story, well thought out, and for a reason. These evil creatures had new plans for humans, though it was not yet revealed. But one of the Gifts of the Holy Spirit is discernment; and that discernment is how you know what is truth and what is a lie. Romans 8:16 says that the Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit. It is, well, like an intuitive knowing and the confirmation from the Holy Spirit gives you assurity. The Holy Spirit is the spirit of truth.
“So how did you get here?” I changed the subject. “I don’t mean here on earth , I mean---“
“I know what you mean. We are telepathic creatures, remember?”
I wondered if he said this to intimidate me, to make me think I could not have a private thought. I knew that was a lie, too.
“You ask because you’re wondering ‘where are my wings’.”
Reasonable deduction, I thought, not necessarily telepathy.
“I am holographic.”
“But you look solid.” I remembered a museum exhibit I had seen with holographic vignettes. Although they appeared to be 3 dimensional, you could walk through the objects.
He took my hand and placed it on his arm. He was solid all right. It’s no damn wonder Eve took that peach!
“Just because humans have not reached that point of technological development yet doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.” He chuckled. “Arrogance always follows ignorance.”
“So what happened to the wings? Another genetic mutation?” I asked.
“We never had wings like humans have depicted us. You have to remember that thousands of years ago language wasn’t as it is today. The first language, the pure language, is telepathy. From that, humans gradually developed a single symbol to represent an entire vocabulary of thoughts. All of this before a word language was ever spoken. As oral stories were developed over time, the humans used birds as a frame of reference to express our comings and goings. And that’s how your fairy tale stories of winged creatures developed.
“So if you all have been coming and going all these thousands of years, and if you’re so benevolent and took pity on the poor abandoned humans, why did you never stop to help any of the many people who’ve cried and suffered and prayed for a god to help? If you had the power and ability, where was your goodness then?”
SINS OF THE FATHER
Images raced through my mind. Faces of the broken and helpless. A mother with horror in her wide eyes as she watched her child being torn apart in front of her by a neighbors killer dog. The images of war and lost, crying children stumbling around as the bodies of their parents lay in the yard. Sometimes I grieved so deeply for all that I had seen that I could neither eat nor sleep.
“Tragic.” He said.
“So where were the angels when they could have intervened to stop these things? Or to give comfort?” I asked.
“Mankind was not ready for our help. Life and death had to take its course. Many tragedies could have been prevented if people had taken personal responsibility more seriously.”
“That’s a rather cold response.” I said.
“Only because you do not look deeper to understand. Alter-humans still exhibit reactions based on emotional programming rather than using intellect and logic to correct the suffering in their world. For example, the vicious dog. When those dogs have been bred and trained for fighting and killing, it activates the modification of certain genetic codes. These changes become an inherited liability from one generation to the next. The scriptures tell you this, too. You have read of the generational curses.”
“Ah, yes. The sins of the father. ‘He punishes the children for the sins of the father to the third and forth generation.’ I always thought that was rather unfair.”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it. It’s all genetics. Now, if the offspring of this aggressively enhanced dog were to be mated to a gentler kind, and so on into the next generation as well, eventually the genomic imprinting would become recessed and the temperament would come back into balance.”
“And if it’s bred with other dogs of aggressive training…?”
“It’s human stupidity if done with that purpose. But some alter humans have been bred the same way and it becomes their nature to keep and train blood thirsty animals. It’s a transference of their own aggressiveness. It becomes a kill or be killed world. It’s past the point of achieving balance.”
“But aggression is a natural instinct for self defense and survival.”
“Yes, but alter humans, were specifically bred just like the aggressive dog in your story. They were genetically engineered to enhance adrenal output and they are more aggressive than what is natural in the rest of the galaxy. This DNA change has caused a corruption in normal human personality and limited the alts ability to know their innate connection to creation. From time to time, we have continued to select individuals for the introduction of extra gene pool additions and some progress has been made.”
“You mean the alien abduction stories are true?” All this time I had thought those stories were simply made up for entertainment. I had never given it a thought as to having any real merit. It was National Enquirer-type ridiculous fantasy in my opinion.
He smiled slightly. “Sometimes you alter humans are very amusing. The sad part of all this is that, although, as I said, we had some progress, the overwhelming result was that the intelligence gained by the alts was used to refine the aggressiveness. Alt man raised himself above mere verbal or contact aggressiveness and developed incredible applications of weaponry.”
“Why have you come back to the earth at this time?” I asked.
“Mankind on this planet is on the verge of annihilation. There is nothing but war and toxic poisoning left. The earth and its people are corrupt. The DNA is becoming beyond repair and alt humans are advancing into grotesque mutations. And the weaponry that has been developed now threatens the entire galaxy.”
“So do you have a solution for humanity?”
“Yes. We are going to reveal ourselves so that alt humans can know the truth of their inter-galactic lineage.”
“And don’t you think that will scare the be-jeezus out of them?”
He smiled. “No, they will hear of us first and expect it. It will become common knowledge that we are here.”
“And then what?”
“We will offer our assistance.”
“But I thought you said it was beyond repair.”
“Almost. If alt humans respond favorably they can be taught to bring their awareness into balance and establish a paradise on the earth again.”
Oh that’s just the cats meow! I got a damn Jehovah’s Witness alien on my porch, I thought to myself.
He did not smile and his words were like a well rehearsed line. “Awareness into balance”…what kind of nonsense jargon was that? A paradise earth when we already know some of these poisons in the soil and water have a half life of hundreds of thousands of years. He was lying again.
Ah, Paradise. Endless rolling meadows of wildflowers and sweet perfumed air. Wild colorful songbirds that swoop down and sit on your shoulder. No bills to pay, no dishes to wash. Free time to enjoy the sun and sensual breezes while weaving leis of clover and marigolds. Nuzzling with a lion who offers her soft mane as a pillow for your nap under the shade tree. No alarm clocks, no phones ringing, no oven timers, no doorbells. Grabbing a bite to eat from a mango tree while walking to visit a friend. Everyone is your friend here and no one ever dies. No sorrow. Just joy, joy, joy.
Ah, Paradise. The sweet bedtime story, lulling you into dreamland. He maketh me lie down in green pastures…and off you go into a better world, even if only in your mind. It helps you get through the harsh realities of the day. It helps you deal with the employer that regularly makes you clock out and continue to work for another hour. He says you have freewill, but you know that if you don’t do it, you’ll loose your job. He cheats you on your pay and keeps you always four hours short of qualifying for company insurance. You take your lumps and never retaliate because you comfort yourself knowing that Jehovah will destroy him and he won’t be there in your little perfect Paradise.
Ah, Paradise. The haven for the broken and mistreated. The place where sorrows melt. The place over the rainbow. The place you want so much to believe could really exist. The only hope in a hopeless world. The drugless drug.
Ah, Paradise. But, but...how?
“Shhhh! Shhhh! There now. You’re running ahead. I’ll wave my magic wand and you repeat after me. “Wait on Jehovah. Wait on Jehovah. Wait on Jehovah.”
Too many questions and you will send yourself into withdrawal. Keep focused. Wait on Jehovah.
It’s not always a matter of intelligence. It’s not always dependent on your degree of education. The snare of it depends on your degree of brokenness and the depth of your sorrows. When life hurts too much, everyone needs an out.
Ah Paradise. It’s a nice place, isn’t it? You really like it there, don’t you? I bet you would like to know how to make it really real. Don’t you want to know how you can be sure there is a reservation for you waiting?
Oh yes. I would do anything to make it a real place!
Well, it wouldn’t be much of a place if you were there all alone, now would it? You need to bring some friends with you. Here, take these magazines and go tell a few good people about your wonderful place! I hereby deputize you to go door to door just like Jesus did.
How will I know who the “good people” are?
You will know the good people because they will be dressed right and have a little money to give you, er, us. Yes, that’s right. Bring the money back to us with a little information about who you’ve been talking to. And if they slam the door, we want to keep records on them, too.
“Don’t you agree the world is a bad place?”
THE TIME OF JACOB'S TROUBLES
The rain was so fine that it whirled as a mist in the cool air. A breeze tossed strands of the man’s hair and as the morning light passed through it, I saw burgundy highlights. The mist gathered in an aura around him and twinkles of gold stood suspended in mid air. It suddenly struck me that this was why artists had depicted them with halos. In the shadows of clouds, he became even more illuminated.
I thought of asking his name. It seemed rather awkward and impolite to continue a conversation without knowing his name at this point. But then, I thought of the story of Jacob. Had he not asked the name of his angel and received an infliction?
In my minds eye, I saw Jacob with his angel. The engagement was not one of physical wrestling; it was not a tug of war. “Wrestling” was a poor choice of words for what was intended as a figurative expression of engaging conversation with a messenger. Jacob was in awe of the angel messenger. He hung onto every word the angel spoke. He learned much and voluntarily conspired to assist them when he thought there was an advantage in it for himself.
Jacob may have had his good points, but from his youth he was a liar, a deceiver, and a cheat. He had a clever way about him. Jacob was no lover of truth. He proved this when he instead chose loyalty to his wicked mother, and this great transgression against the truth shaped the course of his life. It would not be the only time that Jacob would choose family loyalty over righteousness.
The act of the angel striking his thigh was symbolic in two ways. Because Jacob thereafter was lame, it became a physical manifestation of stumbling. His actions caused a great fall in mankind. The thigh is often used as a gentle word for reproduction aspects. Thus, the fruit of his loins carried the scars of his commitment to the program. Jacob’s dream of the ladder bridging heaven and earth was symbolic of his voluntary visit to the spacecraft where he underwent genetic probing and DNA reassignment experiments.
Perhaps this is when he received his knowledge of animal husbandry. He was very clever in using this to his advantage when he struck a bargain with his father-in -law for flocks and herds. Through the “secrets” of genetics revealed to him by the angels, he was able to breed a stronger stock which he kept for himself.
Jacob’s Ladder! “The Ladder” was the NATO code name of a drug used to increase aggression in soldiers. It had been administered to US soldiers without their knowledge during chemical warfare trials in the Vietnam era. Others had discovered this truth about Jacob as well! In their own way they had tried to tell us in subtle messages.
Why were these angel creatures doing this to humans? Was it some revenge plot on our Creator? Was it out of jealousy toward us? We were not experimental mistakes! The ones who created us had created these beautiful angels beings before us. Our creators were experts! It was this angel race who had plummeted us into destruction! A war broke out in heaven…had these creatures hurt our creators? Had we, in our selfishness, not understood this was why they could not get back to us?
I felt an alarming sense of caution come over me. I would have to be very diligent to keep my guard up around this creature. Not for a moment could I let my hand tip. I didn’t care what his name was. It was only the civility of etiquette that even prompted me to consider asking. Truly, though, I did not want to even be that familiar with this creature. He was here for a reason and I did not know why.
“Do you drink coffee?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you. Black.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, grateful to find an escape for a few minutes.
Perhaps his presence signaled that the time of Jacob’s Troubles were about to be upon us. We were the terminal generation; the generation of destruction. “He will make a full end of all nations.” It would be a time when every human would have to decide his ultimate fate. They would each one have to ask themselves the question that Jacob asked: Loyalty to Mother, or love of truth?
“How does a damn hologram drink coffee?” I muttered to myself as I reached for a cup.
LIKE ATTRACTS LIKE
“You know, there are a lot of people that don’t believe in your field of poppies Paradise concept,” I said. “Some people believe in a rapture event.”
“Hahahahaha.” His laughter was melodious. His voice was resinous and distinctive. As beautifully toned as it was, I knew that it was still the sinister laugh of a villan.
“The rapture!” he said. “Yes, we all just fly away,” he said, waving his fingers in an upward motion toward the sky. “Poor little alter-humans. They just can’t seem to pull themselves out of this victim consciousness.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I did not believe in a rapture, myself. I knew the origins that it started with Darby’s concepts and then the Millerites went a little far with the idea making predictions and standing on a hillside for hours waiting. Actually they did that several times. People sold everything they had, donned white robes, and sat on a mountaintop hoping for Jesus to come get them. That was back at the turn of the century.
Modern day evangelists and preachers looking to make a buck on a captive audience, picked up the idea, embellished it quite handsomely leaving off the date predictions, and now they drew crowds. People did love fantastic stories and having their ears tickled.
“Ah yes. The bible reference of two standing in a field, one is taken and one is left behind. And they take that to mean that there will be an evacuation of part of humanity by space ships. Incredible little imaginations they have.” He smiled. “Amazing how they have circulated such stories and how many have been so gullible to fall into this ‘rescue me’ mindset.”
“Seriously,” he said, “as far as massive space ship removals of humans from this planet….contemplate six billion or more beings… Whew!” he shook his head. “Have you any idea how many space ships that would take? Spaceships with facilities to accommodate them all? That’s just insane.” He shook his head with an amused look on his face. “The main problem we have with that idea is that, with humanity experiencing the problems that they still have, if they were transferred to another planet, then there would be two planets in trouble instead of just one!”
I knew he was mocking the concept of Jesus returning. Jesus did not say how he would be coming, except to say that it would be in great glory. Space ships or magic carpets, I didn’t know. But I knew it would happen because I believed what Jesus said. I did not believe any of this “pre-trib”, mid-trib” rapture theory. I knew we would all be tested throughout the Great Tribulation and Jesus would come on the last day of it all. That would be Armageddon. That would be the finality of all these deceptions and modes of slavery we had been birthed into on this planet.
“Poor little alter humans, sitting around meditating, waiting for some magical process to just happen and change everything for them. It’s not wise to count on that!” he said. “God helps those who help themselves, you know.”
I thought it interesting that he would use that phrase. Many people think that is scriptural but its not. Even preachers have promoted it as being a gospel truth.
“I am a victim and I need to be rescued. Help me! Help me!” The angel said in a high pitched voice. “It’s really rather wearisome to deal with that mindset. Humanity will not be rescued but we will offer help.”
“What kind of help do you have in mind?” I asked.
“First of all, people will have to get past this victim consciousness. It’s not going to be easy. They have to understand that if you rescue someone, then you become a victim of the rescued. If you sympathize with them then it supports their victim-hood and it ties you to them.”
His rationalizations were cold and unfeeling. When someone is down and out, or needy, and you are in a position to help, well, it is one way we manifest love for one another.
“So I suppose that if someone were hungry and cold you would see it as supporting a victim to give him soup and a blanket?” I asked.
“Well, the intelligent response is to look beyond the immediate situation and ask ‘how did this person become a victim’? Only then can you make a right determination as to whether you should offer assistance.”
“So in your world judgment outweighs compassion.”
“I am not suggesting that you ignore their plight,” he continued. “But why should you do for them what they are unwilling to do for themselves? Their plight is the result of wrong decisions they have made. They probably have a bad attitude that has influenced their decisions. The situation is of their own creation. They need to learn that they alone are responsible for their plight. It goes back to what I said earlier about personal responsibility.”
I had to agree that this sounded somewhat logical and to some degree was probably correct. Some people even pretend victimization to make a living. There are scam artists everywhere. But its different when you know someone personally. And sometimes you can see someone truly in need and just know it, even if you don’t know them personally.
“The only true help you can offer them is to teach them other viewpoints. Help them to see that they have caused their own situation and it does not have to be like that. It’s critical for them to move through this victim consciousness by accepting responsibility for their experience. Perhaps you can teach them the Prayer of Personal Responsibility and remind them that opportunities are available for those who seek to come into balance with the Universal Laws.”
So like, instead of soup and a blanket, you teach them a prayer.
“I get it,” I said. “If someone is hungry you just give them a cookbook so they can learn more about what they need.”
He pursed his lips at my sarcasm. “We will be here to offer our assistance.”
“Well, you have never really said what that assistance is,” I replied.
“Help is available. When alter humans decide to make the choice to take responsibility and heal themselves, then they can be helped. They must be willing to become balanced. They must be willing to become in line with the Laws of the Universe.”
“Are you going to publish the laws and just hand it out to the needy? Like a new version of the Ten Commandments?” I could tell he was irritated with my remarks.
“When the time is right for greater expansion of the concept for a new experience for mankind, the information will be ready for distribution.”
“So what are these Laws of the Universe?” I asked.
“The first Law of the Universe is that ‘like attracts like’.”
“That’s not true! You put two like- sided magnets together and see how it works. And as far as people, opposites attract and compliment each other.”
He sighed. “You have a lot to learn. In order for this planet to heal and for people to heal, there must be a unity. Like attacts like. All people must be of one mind and focused on the goal. You cannot get anything accomplished if everyone is going in different directions. The process of coming into balance will require that individuals separate themselves from those who refuse to change. Those who wish to accept our help must align themselves with others who are willing to make the necessary personal changes.”
“Separate themselves from those who refuse to change?” I repeated his statement. “You are here to cause a separation of people who will do things your way? And what of the people who are not in agreement with your ideas? What of them?”
“Humanity must transform itself from the victim consciousness into self-empowerment. This will result in the rise of the vibratory rate of the planet.”
“Don’t give me that new age mumbo-jumbo vibrating the planet stuff. I asked you about what happens to the people who do not agree with your plan?”
“It’s not our purpose to force anything on anyone. Mankind has freewill to accept or not. People can choose to move forward to or continue to live in frustration and grim survival. If they choose to end their lives in pain and disease by denying our solution, then it is their freewill choice. We plan to give a gradual and convincing alternative in exchange for people giving up what does not work and has not worked for eons of time. Alter humans are being offered the opportunity to make a leap of consciousness. How sad it will be should they stubbornly refuse to take advantage of this opportunity.”
“You still have not answered the question. What of those who do not cooperate with you?” I was beginning to understand now that this is what it meant to wrestle with an angel. You can’t seem to get a straight answer out of them. They keep giving you answers that never really answer the question. I just wanted a point blank answer. He was playing circle the wagons.