MegaMax Studios

Freedom wears no armor. How can it be a shield? In the United States of America, freedom is offered equally to all. The evil have used it for their evil ends; they have marched forward, like a swarm of termites, devouring from the foundation up. They have twisted the intent of our founding fathers to limit government. The evil infiltrators within our government would limit the people. Now, many have considered that the mark of the beast has something to do with computers. While it has a bearing on daily commerce, I contest that the real mark is a spiritual mark - one that spiritual beings can see. Read more in "The Great Reflection" available on Amazon.com.

I grow weary of theoretical science. Is it science in fact, or merely in theory? There are huge black holes in the 'Big Bang Theory'. Who can really say? Is there an actual witness who has been there? Is there any photographic evidence? All I ever see are number crunchers vying for a slice of fame. Current theories seem inadequate. They say that it all began with the appearances of super-hot, super-heavy atomic matter, but they fail to suggest how this matter came into existence from non-existence. They cannot show where it came from or how it developed. Moreover, they have no theory whatsoever about the empty space it suddenly appeared in. Did the empty vacuum exist before the bang? Does space expand with the universe? Just how big is the emptiness? And really,can we even think of such things? To think of theories makes our thoughts theoretical. To think of non-existence makes our thoughts non-existent. To have thoughts about empty space makes our thoughts empty space. Ahh! - but the 'Big Bang' - theorists love their noisy theories. Only - sound is not supposed to exist in this grand vacuum which our universe is supposed to have exploded into. Or, do you suppose that the bang was both a matter and emptiness generating engine? If nothing existed (but suddenly there was a solidity) the explosion of it should have been like popcorn: the expansion of solid material only. If it did not explode into a preexisting space, then was the nothing outside this first material a vacuum or a pressure? Seems to me, if there was only matter, and no preexisting space, that very fact would have altered the shape of everything, in terms of homogeneously expanding matter. Anyone can spout theory, and I will do just that for an example, but do you think someone will pay me? Well, anything is possible - in theory. I will propose a theory of the universe. Let there be no banging or static states; I propose the Serially Looped Organic And Mechanically Cumulative Universe Theory. SLOAMCUT for short. My theory proceeds thus: There is no beginning and no end, however, each pass through (or, serial loop) culminates in an end that is merely a new beginning. The loop drags with it all the gains of all its various processes. Whereas there was something with which to begin (in a non-beginning sort of way), it was small and had to be built upon. The gains of the first pass added to the substance of the second pass, mechanically and methodically building toward the cumulative end (in the fashion of all which does not end.) Where the so-called experts have both an expanding and contracting universe, my theory will shed new light on their collaboration of mutually exclusive constants. Say there first atom did not bang into a box of empty space, merely because the whole thing about non-existence suddenly existing in a medium that had totally ignored the non-existence clause by existing so that something else could occur in it is a bit too much to swallow. What my theory proposes is that all those things we can't possibly know, we can at least guess at by means of comparison to things we actually do know. Let us suppose that our universe is a small part of something very large, and organic. Let us further surmise that our universe exists inside the lung of our large living something. First, our universe expands, then our universe contracts. It expands again; it contracts again. It is in an infinite (theoretically speaking) and serial loop. As with a lung, substance is drawn in and included into the current state. thus adding to every substance and process. By the same token, other substance, in its own time and place and by its own process, is expelled. The experience by which we make our comparisons dictates that life comes at us in pairs, in poles, with each pole having its own clearly defined opposite. What do you think, can North exist with South? Can up exist without down, in without out? Yet, so-called experts (theoretical big-bangists) would have us believe that our universe runs on gravity alone (the attraction of mass) and that there is no opposite to gravity. They are keen to hand us a load of anti-matter, but you never hear them speak of anti-gravity as a universal, naturally occurring force. My theory offers both push and pull, both vacuum and pressure, both attraction and rejection. I offer a biological theory of a serial loop, in which each and every self-opposing pole along its expanding/contracting path is both beginning and end. And there you have it. What's your theory?

Chapter 53 of my novel "The Faerie Dusters" Will followed a plane, broad path; his new mind scared him, but he pressed on. His heart was screaming at him. Get your legs, it said, save Emma! He was afloat above the path; he moved easily along the way. It was a beautiful mental conduit, and a scary nothingness that reasoned with the older Will. Stay, it reasoned; rest, it said. Why the effort? The voice of reason scared him, for it commanded him not to try. It offended him, for it told him that Emma would be fine without him. Will hated the voice. Emma was in danger. He took the voice in his hands, and squeezed. He choked the throat of it until he had wrung the last drop of life from it. He threw it at his feet, and looked up. There, he saw what he presumed to be his soul. He could make neither heads nor tails of the creature, but Will felt certain it would be of more help than the inner voice. He reached; he grasped firmly; he hauled himself up and out of his mind. At once, he found himself before the panorama of blue sky and marching clouds. With a shudder, he thought the nothingness of his older self not so scary, after all. A gracious, quiet voice thundered through his being, tender in its inquiry. “Have you done nothing of which I commanded you to do?” Will realized that he had failed not himself, not Emma, but God. He fell upon his face. He trembled uncontrollably. That was the story of his life: he had never taken the steps he needed to take. He had always been a day late, and a dollar short. Now, he felt about as low as a man could get. He hated himself. He deserved whatever was to come, and as awful as it was to imagine that God could grind him to powder, God was, and always would be a righteous God. Will could see it no other way; in his heart he knew that God could do no wrong. The gentle voice shook him a second time. “Your new mind scares you.” “Y . . . yes, Lord.” “Let this encourage you. I have given you a mind that will not permit you to fail me. All that you need to serve me, I have freely given. Look within, my son.” Will cautiously complained, “But . . . I can’t move my legs . . .” “Don’t be afraid. Your legs will move.” “But, how?” pressed Will. “I don’t understand . . .” “Faith, Will; faith will move your legs. Now, hear me, for I shall not speak with you again until I speak with you face to face in my new world. I will bring this valley down, and I will cause the mountain to fall in upon itself. Go quickly to the cave that is south of you, and go between the stones.” Will raised his face to the sky. He pushed tears aside, and asked, “But, what about Emma, Lord? I love her.” The voice flashed like a hot bolt; the thunder of it threw him back. “I have put her life in your hands.” Will blinked, and the sky turned to muddy rage. He saw main street flooded; he saw Emma and the Doctor, Ned Burtram between them. They pressed against the current as they followed others toward Evans Hill. The torrent, like a snake, snapped at their heels. Each step was taken with painfully exaggerated care. Emma looked up; Will could see the hopeless horror in her eyes, as a wall of muddy water and sandbags struck the three of them like a fist. They were driven into the post and railing that fronted the jail. Emma wrapped one arm around the failing corner post; with her free hand, she held tenaciously to the Doctors’ vest. She struggled to keep her head above water. “No!” cried Will. The vision was gone. He found himself on the floor in Emmas’ bedroom. He thrashed wildly with all four limbs. It took but a moment to find his feet, and Will was off and running. He slammed through the door to the other room, and donned the long coat and hat. He raced down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out into the rain. The barn doors stood open. His boots flew from under him, and he hit the dark interior in a bone-jarring slide. He heard the shuffle and snort of spooked horses in their stalls. Which horse really didn’t matter; Will took the first one he came to, threw himself up on its bare back, and kicked it into a frantic gallop. He headed for the bridge. One hand locked in the tangled mane, the other hand holding his hat upon his head, Will bared his teeth into the pounding rain. He pushed his mount for all its speed. The cold and dismal light of dawn was barely detectable when Will pulled up just short of the bridge. His mount danced apprehensively in the frothing flood. Muddy waters covered the road, churning dangerously high. The muddy swell beat vehemently against the north face of the bridge, tossing a great wall of grey foam high above the ravaged roof. Will studied the water that ran through the bridge, and gauged the eastern exit. It was high, and the current perilously swift, but he was game for the effort. He had to reach Emma. The horse reared in fright, and turned to flee, as a terrible grinding noise accosted Wills’ rain battered ears. He turned the horse back around to look. What he saw was disturbing. As he steadied his mount, the west end of the bridge was pulled free. It swung south with the torrent, disappearing beneath the spray. Simultaneously, the east end lifted toward Will. It stood briefly on end before being instantaneously sucked into the gnashing maw of the raging river. Before Wills’ eyes, a whole covered bridge was horribly chewed into a thousand useless pieces. “Damn!” shouted Will, barely hearing the sound of his voice over the roar of the river. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” He turned, and drove the horse north, merciless in his urgency. The beating in his chest hurt. It was like the second hand in a large, brass clock. He cut through shallower waters; he made for the pond on his property. His land was higher than Evanston, and more northerly than Evans Hill. There was a small row boat tied there; that would be his ticket to town. He kicked for speed, veering toward his cabin, then turning north again at the shallow bend in the creek. The pond was a small lake; it was badly swollen. The old tree, to which the boat was tied, stood far out from solid ground. He eased the reluctant animal toward the tree, but its instinctual fear held him back. Time was running out. He slid from the horses back, and released it. As the animal turned back to land, Will was drawn under. He surfaced, paddled, turned and looked. There was the boat just a few feet from him. It was capsized. Will unsheathed his Bowie, and cut the rope. Panic pulled the little boat. Will could still see the images of Emmas’ plight; they had been burned upon his minds’ eye. Having righted the boat, Will rolled his hat into a pocket inside his coat. There was no time to lose; he raced to save the life of someone precious. With the zeal of a desperate man, Will heaved the boat over his head, and ran toward the river. His best hope lay in being far enough north for the current to carry him over to Evans Hill. He ran hard and steady, knowing what he must do. He played out the scenario in his head again and again. The single oar in the small boat offered little advantage, but he could use it like a rudder to steer the boat true. His greatest fear was coming ashore south of town. If he could just make it to Evans Hill, from there he might use the store fronts for handholds as he sought out and sundered his love from the greedy swell. He had run as far as he dared; he stopped at the swirling brink of mayhem to catch his breath. He gulped air through the driving rain. His body was cramped from his exertions, but his heart hurt more. No time, no time, he told himself. He pushed the boat out into the mad river; he threw himself inside, and immediately reached for the oar. He yanked it from its place, and thrust it into the raging, muddy beast. The rain hammered him. It numbed his senses, and pooled in the boat. Will could only hope, now - hope that his course was true, hope that his boat did not flounder and sink. He looked into rain for any sign of orientation; he beat his oar against the might of the flood. Like an open hand, the frigid limbs of a leafless tree appeared from the unrelenting greyness, and slapped his floundering craft. Sharp branches raked Wills’ face, first one limb, then another, as Will fought to keep control. For one breathless moment, Will lost all bearing. His boat turned in the swell, and threatened to go under. Will ploughed the current with his oar. He saw the great scary tree sink silently to his right, like a ghost slipping back into the grave. Will knew then that his bearing was true. He was happy, but his struggle was far from over. He gasped for air, and got rain water instead; his chest ached savagely. His small craft was quickly filling with water, and before him was only more of the same. The grey downpour was beating him into the river. To his souls’ delight, Will noticed a darker shade of grey. It was up ahead; it was, in fact, the hulking knob of Evans Hill, beckoning through the grey wall of rain. He could not make out the house, but he saw faint, wavering spots that might be windows. He fought his way toward the hill; shapes became clearer, and Will detected movement. Will laughed into the shroud of rain; he was that much closer to Emma. He cared not that the rain ran down his throat. He would soon be with the woman he loved. The craft banged into the hill; Will pulled it to ground and laid it over. Before him, now, was the camp of the townsfolk. They hunkered from the rain in ragged flapping tents that were no more than rags on poles. Some did not have that much; they huddled in the pouring rain, forlornly watching their livelihoods wash away. Will wondered why Evans House had not allowed them in. Will ran among the sodden townsfolk, through abating rain, calling Emmas’ name. He dared to hope. Beneath hastily erected shelters, he passed through a miserable collection of scared, wounded, and crying. They had their own problems; they hardly heard him above the rain. Will spied Emmas’ preacher, soaked and shivering, as he doled out what comforts he had. The preacher had been among the mob that laughed him from his soap box, and while he himself had not laughed, Will recalled the embarrassed pinching of his face. The preacher stood up from a trembling couple, and Will pulled him around by the shoulder. His eyes were hollow, and lost. Will shouted, “Have you seen Emma?” The short man seemed somewhat more diminished by the flood. He pointed a heavy hand toward a larger huddle further down the hill. Will narrowed his eyes in that direction. He made out several men standing at the edge of the water. They busied themselves hauling a wagon up from the flood. The wheels had been removed to make a raft of it. Will stumbled into the larger camp; he inquired of each wretch as he came to him. He got blank looks, listless shrugs, and cold indifference. No one had seen Emma. Will paused to watch the wounded who were carried from the wagon. Those who were hurt were carried up the hill; those who were dead were laid out with other corpses. Will noticed there were no sheets to cover the dead. It was then that he heard the wailing of mourners. He had been caught up in his own dilemma, too caught up to see the tribulation of the town. Now that he saw it, he felt for them. The wounded, the dead, and cowering survivors littered the dark hill. A knot formed in Wills’ stomach as he pushed through the clamoring crowd. He spotted the broad shoulders of Tooley Cox, a railroad man, and occasional customer. Tooley had sought him out when the duties of father and husband had threatened to overwhelm. Will listened to his complaints, and sold him whiskey. He saw him, now, as a smaller man, bedraggled and hunkering in a lean-to. Will moved to face him, and stopped cold. Will fell to his knees beside him; he was stunned to see the corpse of Tooleys’ twelve year old son, Timmy. Tooley clutched the small body in a bear grip of wordless grief. Timmys’ skin was unnervingly still and white; his open eyes saw nothing. Tooley turned his slack face up to Will. “Gone . . . gone . . .” moaned Tooley. Will wanted to cry. He knew Timmy to be a good boy, sweet tempered, gentle, and honest. It broke Wills’ heart to see him so cold and white. He stretched out a trembling hand to smooth back the hair from Timmys’ face, and close the wide, empty eyes. Poor Timmy! If he was a better man, he thought, he might be able to comfort this grieving father. But, what could he do or say to ease Tooleys’ pain? What could he offer to fill the void? Nothing, that’s what. Will pulled a heavy hand across his face, and stood to leave. Will found the sheriff sitting morosely on the planks of a makeshift raft. His face was gaunt, his expression hollow. Like the others, sheriff Hurt had difficulty answering. It was as if Wills’ questions brought them back to themselves, to the very place they did not want to be. Will gripped the big mans’ shoulder and shook him. He had to repeat the question. “Hurt,” he asked, “Where’s Emma?” The tired man behind the badge looked slowly up. His eyes took a moment longer to focus. He shrugged an apology, and said, “Behind me when the levy broke . . . Doc and Ned . . . I’m sorry.” Will had wasted too much time; his course lay down-current. Will raced back to his boat; he prayed in his heart for Emmas’ safety. He prayed hard, and the current took him. The river cast him at ripped buildings, at structures bent and swaying. His small craft settled into the middle of the flood, and Will heard from behind him a man shouting from the hill. It was Tooley. “He’s alive!” Tooley shouted. “He’s alive!” Although the rain had lessened considerably, the flood, unabated, raged on. Wills’ small boat turned in the current without control. He spun madly, and slammed into the groaning ruin of the old church. It was there that Will lost the boat. It was sucked out from under him. Will found himself dropping down main street with nothing more than a piece of church wall to stay the breach between life and death. Muddy water filled his throat. He clawed his portion of the church in hopes of remaining upright, as the angry river hurled him past the unfinished courthouse, then punched him through the north corner of the jail. That same corner was swept along beside him, and hammered him brutally when he fell into the brick edifice of the bank. The saloon flashed by - in halves. The river gagged him, as he sought purchase among the detritus. He continued to scratch and claw a route along the surface, while the black clouds of unconsciousness thundered at the outer edges of his perception. A roughly vertical post came into view; Will took it. He reached with both arms, and hugged it to him with desperate strength. Sputtering, he pulled himself to the top balcony of Fergusons’ Feed and Grain, now but two feet above the swell. The balcony rippled from the force of the current beneath it. He was glad to share his rippling raft with a scared, wet gopher rat. He spit mud, and stood to get his bearings. The balcony, suspended by its northern brace, bobbed dangerously on the flood. Across the way, Will could see the roof of the school. A gnarled and ancient oak leaned away from the school, reaching for the orphanage nearby. It came quite close. There stood one matron and five clinging children on the roof of the orphanage. Emma stood in the boughs of the oak. Having advanced as far as possible, she was still unable to reach across. She reached into the boughs above her head, seeking a way to leap from the tree to the roof. Will had just focused his eyes on her; he had just filled his lungs to call her name, when the orphanage collapsed. The roof spun away into the froth, with a sickening silence. The matron reached to embrace her charge, and they were gone. The corner of the roof went down, and five small, wide-eyed faces disappeared. What was left splintered away into nonexistence. The roof of the school followed, struck the tree and passed around on either side. Only the great old oak was left. Emma watched the roof vanish. One good woman, and five dear children died before her eyes. She felt the tree quake and watched the school roof follow down the river. It was all too much. Why must the innocent die? She turned her face into the pouring rain, and vented all the anger and frustration of wasted life. Will called to her. “Emma! Emma!” She turned to find the voice that called her name. Her foot slipped. He called in alarm, “Emma!” She wrapped her arms about the thick limb, and steadied herself. She wiped the hair from her face, and looked through the rain to see Will on the balcony of the feed and grain. She wasn’t at all surprised. This was just one more thing to tick her off. Why!? Why did he have to come? She did not want to see him drown, too. Will shouted, “Hang on, Emma. I’ll get you.” “No!” she called back. “I’m comin’ over.” “You’ll die!” she screamed. “You old fool.” “So, I’m a fool. Stay put.” “Will,” pleaded Emma, “you’ve got a mission. I’ll just be in the way.” Will answered, “I love you, Emma. I ain’t goin’ nowhere without y’.” She knew there was no arguing. Will would try to get across, and die in the attempt. Emma could not bear to see him swallowed by the flood. She would have to jump fast, before he could think of a plan. Before he could collect himself enough to jump in after her, she had to jump in. She had to do it - to save him. She shifted her weight; the current tore viciously at her feet. Will seemed ready to jump; she paused; she needed to distract him. Emma shouted over the rain, “You knot-headed old man. Even if you do get across, just where do you think we’ll be going from here?” “You might have a point,” he answered. “But, I really don’t care. Sounds like more naggin’ t’ me.” “Wait, Will; just wait a minute. Save yourself. I have no place in your life any more.” “Damn, if that’s true!” Will countered. “You just stay right there.” He readied himself to jump. “Will. Will!” Emma pleaded. “Remember the vision. There has to be a sacrifice. That’s the only way you can go on: if I die.” Will clenched his fists, and shouted back, “No! Hell no!” “You know it’s true.” The rain slacked; it would have been quiet, if not for the roaring flood. Will said, “All I know is we live or die together. Y’ hear me?” “Okay, Will. Okay. Just don’t jump.” Her heart raced; the taste of fear was on her tongue. In a sad sort of way, she was happy the rain hid her tears. She instructed, “Go inside, and see if you can find some rope.” “Now, y’ see?” Will cheered. “That’s why I need y’. Hold on.” He spun on his heels; he had to search the top floor of the feed and grain. He had to be quick. He took one step, and a whisper touched him. It ran through him like a cold fire, saying, “I love you, Will.” Fearfully, he wheeled. Lightning seared the air just over him; thunder shook his bones. With illuminated clarity, Will saw the very thing he feared the most. Crouching on the limb, Emma stepped into the swell, and vanished. Wailing to match the thunder, Will bolted to the end of the balcony and took flight. Maddened heartbeats seemed eternities long; the brassy bile of failure burned his throat. The raging river received him with a slap that filled his mouth with cold mud. It stopped his ears and scrubbed his eyes. Blind and desperate, Will drove himself into the flood. He kicked with his legs, he reached with his arms, he groped with his hands, and he forced the pain in his lungs to a back shelf in an unsuspected closet of his mind. The rivers’ soul deep roar shook his bones, and addled his brain. He was lost in a thick brown tumult, but fear pushed him relentlessly forward. It was not the fear that one feels for oneself; it was the fear of failing someone cherished and dear. Will feared for Emma. Every second, every heartbeat mattered painfully. His body screamed for air. Then the miracle happened. It was a miracle beyond the telling. Although his senses failed him, he knew in his heart that he held Emma in his arms. He hugged her tightly to him, and kicked hard for life. He kicked and kicked, and the rest followed quickly. Will did not think; there was no time for that. Will simply did what there was to do. That, too, seemed miraculous to Will. He broke the surface of the flood and gulped sweet air. He loosed himself from its cold grip, and brought Emmas’ head above water. Finding a willow root in his hand, Will thankfully crawled up from the surging mud, drawing his love from deaths’ maw, one foot at a time. Lightning scorched the sky, and thunder rocked the earth, but Emma lay before him like cold white marble. Will drew her up into his arms, staggered to the cave and fell. He prayed a ragged prayer. “Please, God . . . let her live . . . let her live.” Will gave no thought to the rekindled fury of the storm, nor to the fateful course that brought him precisely to the cave. Mind and heart bent to one clear and critical point: Emma must live. He had come so very close to pushing her away, to leaving her, to losing her. It could have happened, but Will was thankful it did not. Instead, Will had discovered a love that was deeper than the flood, a need that burned hotter than any bolt from heaven. If Emma died now, how could he live? He knelt beside her, placed her head gingerly upon his lap. He desired Emmas’ life more than his own, and his ragged prayer became a desperate chant. “Let her live let her live let her live . . .” There was a sudden spewing of water from Emmas’ lungs that brought a joyous smile to Wills’ haggard face. He raked the tears from his eyes, happy to see her returning rose. She rolled to her hands and knees. She wretched painfully, while Will held her, loudly gasping the thanksgiving that sprang from his heart like a thousand burning brands. He relished the life that coursed through his love, as Emma fell back into his arms and struggled against the darkness to make sense of it all. Will could feel her confusion; Emma turning to face him, fell into his arms and drank of his comfort. She squeezed him into her bosom as if she would never let him go. To be alive, to be together: that was cause for joy, but, they had to go. He whispered into her ear, “We have to go.” The earth shook beneath them, and dislodged dust rained down. On the ledge, behind Will, Emma spied the bundled gun and fiddle. Reaching with the swiftness of instinct, she took it in a tight-fisted grip, even as Will was pulling her to her feet. Will clutched Emmas’ hand and pulled her through the lightless cave, taking a course that memory alone dictated. The vibrations of the violent earth moved up through their feet to their knees. Behind them, stalactites broke free from the high vaults, and fell with an ominous, nearly continuous roar. Will and Emma raced through the darkness. Ahead of them, a pool stood out against the hard black mask of doom. It seemed to faintly glow. On an island at the pools’ center, four black pillars rose up through a mist. Leaping, Will and Emma landed, with a splash, at the edge of the rocky mound. Behind them, the ceiling fell in. They scurried up the hill, and threw themselves between the stones. The roar of the collapsing cave ended. Silence slapped their eardrums. Emptiness bathed them in pastel greys. Doom, like wild snapping dogs at their heels, suddenly vanished. It no longer existed. In fact, nothing existed. Then, they fell to the ground in a painful heap. In the flash of an instant, a new and solid reality materialized. It knocked the wind from them. Will thought he saw the sand of a taunting, remorseless desert; he reached for Emma, and lost consciousness.

If you love fantasy, as I do, then you are sure to love my new fantasy novel, The Faerie Dusters. It is only available on my web store , it is formatted as a PDF for your ease and convenience, but best of all, it is only $5 per download - a price suitable for gift giving. Let me tell you just a little about my book. Zamani is the protagonist. He is a young half blood, being part pucha and part shee. For most of his life, he has lived in the nhola forest - a mysterious jungle surrounded by a force field. At the death of his mother, he fled from the murderous, and thumb-less, hand of his father, king Rasha. He has always watched the shee from the protection of the nholas. He has ventured only so far as Mithal-Moun, where, cloaked in glamor, he secretly learned the Phrava from Ragezeg. But one day, Zamani became tired of his forest adventures, and sought something new beyond the barrier. He is immediately, and inextricably, drawn into the lives and politics of the shee. Among his new friends is a muscular youth named Takax. When Zamani decides on a course of problem solving for the shee, he includes Takax in the first of many adventures. The ultimate adventure leads Zamani, Takax, Xarhn, and Tosh to the world of the humans. They become marooned, and must befriend two humans of the late 1800's. It is a race against time, as Zamani must find a way back home, and as Will, one of Zamanis' new friends, must find a way to save the widow Hawkshaw. What will Zamani find when he gets back home? Can Will save Emma from the flood, and what will he find beyond the stones?

Here is a small excerpt from The Faerie Dusters:

"No. After the battle, Yagi made it his mission to eliminate the unpure, to put an end to our existence. He found many of us, and while there is no proof, I am afraid many of us were slain by his own hand. I was very small at the time, and my father had served Mithal-Moun on countless occasions. Ragezeg sometimes played with me when our fathers met. It was to Mithal-Moun I was taken to escape the bloody hand of Yagi. Ragezeg hid me there; later, he formed my pait and gave Teefa. No one knows this save I, the Mithal, and you." Pax leaned back against the stage and paused. Zamani struggled to take it in, that such as Yagi could live among the Shee, that no one had sought to stop him. Pax stretched, and yawned lazily, then continued. "Now, Yagi greets me daily in the market; he barters for my wares. He took me as a son when his own died of the fever." Pax lingered in his past, Zamani watched his eyes wander from memory to memory, then he returned with a sigh. "Someday, I will be summoned to Yagi-mon, and he will be on his bed. I will take him in my arms and lift him up on his pillow. He will bless me, and I will kiss his cheek. Then, I will whisper in his ear that he has loved a Gathorne, and I will close his eyes."

OK, here is what you stand to gain from reading ?The Great Reflection? found on my web store at http://www.megamaxstudios.com  You will learn that our cognitive abilities are actually spiritual. You will learn that 'spiritual' and 'communication' go hand-in-hand. (There is no action without communication.) You will discover that our corporeal reality is based on spiritual models. It will be demonstrated that 'cyclic magnification' runs from spiritual to corporeal to spiritual. It will be explained why both sides of the reality equation, while opposite, must be equal. You will be exposed to the concept of spiritual 'Brownian Movement': spiritual/corporeal equilibrium. 'Universal Spiritual Mechanics' will be explained: spiritual laws with corporeal consequences. You will learn of the Universal Spiritual Law of 'Displacement'. You will also be shown the concepts of 'The Reversal Syndrome' (why people say bad when they mean good), 'Ingestion' (you really are what you eat), 'The Fulcrum Theory' and 'Universal Spiritual Governance'. The complete 'circuit' will be displayed, explaining why we must return to the source all that we receive from the source (no hording, no bottle-necking). It will be explained why we will freely give what we have freely gotten, and why what goes around, comes around. The Alpha/Omega/ Alpha will be demonstrated, or in other words, prophecy as memory. You will learn that the 'soul' is our counterpart on the spiritual side, that the soul is actually our corporeal identity plus the mind. Now, you can purchase my book from Amazon, but for a limited time I am offering my book for only $5 to those who buy from my web store. Why wait? The door is open to you.

My intent in this study has been to reach an understanding of what lies just below the surface of the work, and to compare those results with the results of my study of the canon. When I see the things, here, that I discovered in my former study, the excitement is real. To see the same underlying truths elevates me to my next loftier peak, where I may see plainly that the mind of God is spread out upon the whole earth.

In passage 7, Jesus said, "Lucky is the lion that the human will eat (not has eaten: this is an issue of choosing), so that (this expression indicates the initiation of a chosen process) the lion becomes human. And foul is the human that the lion will eat, and the lion still will become human." This passage speaks of the ingestion, or the incorporation of the nature of God into man. God is the lion, and the man, who by impassioned intent seeks, finds, and incorporates God?s nature into his own, will become the lion. Refer to the canonical ?I and the father are one?. God?s work has been, and will continue to be, the work of realizing himself into the reality of man by the communication of his mind into our brain, his nature and character into our personality. The man who will not ingest the lion, who rejects and refuses all things spiritual will become the offal and refuse that is swept up and discarded after a violent and messy end. Still, for all their rejection and resistence, the lion will be man.

In passage 4. Jesus said, "The person old in days won't hesitate to ask a little child seven days old about the place of life, and that person will live. For many of the first will be last, and will become a single one." (One and the same: alpha and omega) Ask and it shall be given to you. If that child could give us a coherent answer, we would be wise to ask. This passage reaches deep, and says much. For instance, life has a place where it may be found. Both the old and the young may share it, and where it is, both the first and the last may be united. Life, itself, passes through many selves and identities. Toward the end, many of us who have been will be again. We will bring with us what the latter need. Our separate identities will join into a single identity by the sharing the same life in exactly the same way. The fruit of experience, old and new, will be ingested by life itself, and then life will begin the cycle anew. In the canonical ?ask, seek, & knock?, we see the cycle of life. The young, who need knowledge, must ask, and what they have must be given to them. The mature in knowledge, seek on their own those things which are needful. They find, they use, they accomplish, for they have come to understand the work and their place in it. Those so full of understanding as to be called wise, and it has taken them a lifetime, will knock at the cyclic door, where the end is but a beginning and the last another first; they shall be opened to. They shall enter and pass through the place of life.

In passage 15. Jesus said, "When you see one who was not born of woman, fall on your faces and worship. That one is your Father." We speak of the ingestion of that which is spiritual by that which is corporeal. What we have, we must be given. It must be transmitted to us, else we have nothing to incorporate. For us to see one who is not born of a woman, we must use something more than eyes of flesh and blood, for we look at an invisible spirit. This passage is short, but it says a lot. The born again are certainly not born (in that particular birth) of any woman. They are born of the invisible, spiritual father. He is one, and we are one in and with him. We become one with our brothers and sisters who are one with the invisible spiritual father. Thus, we are one, and born again, not of seeable flesh, but of invisible spirit. Many of us, then, share the one spirit. We who were, now are, and will bring in those who will be. The first condition and the last condition are one. May we see our father in our selves? What is Jesus saying about himself in this passage?

In passage 17. Jesus said, "I will give you what no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, what no hand has touched, what has not arisen in the human heart." If no eye has seen it, it is invisible. If no hand has touched it, it is not solid. If no ear has heard it, it is a communication of a higher order. If it has not already arisen in the heart (the mind), then it is something new. If such things are to be imparted to us, they must pass through receiving apparatuses that are not physical, and they must then reside in places that are part of us, just not corporeal.

In passage 18. The disciples said to Jesus, "Tell us, how will our end come?" Jesus said, "Have you found the beginning, then, that you are looking for the end? You see, the end will be where the beginning is. Congratulations to the one who stands at the beginning: that one will know the end and will not taste death." What each of us must understand, what each of us must receive into our spirit, is our place in the whole scheme of things. We strive to see the big picture. What is it like to stand at a beginning? Having lost all, and having had to start over from scratch many times in my life, I can tell you what a beginning has been for me. It has been loss, certainly, but it has also been a light-headed sense of freedom, an open road with endless possibilities, where everything is new again. What would it be like to always face the beginning? The end is always there, but because you are filled with endless possibilities, you don?t experience the end as an end.

In passage 19. Jesus said, "Congratulations to the one who came into being before coming into being. If you become my disciples and pay attention to my sayings, these stones will serve you. For there are five trees in Paradise for you; they do not change, summer or winter, and their leaves do not fall. Whoever knows them will not taste death." At first, to see this passage, one may think of it as disassociated sayings thrown together, but, I suspect they are actually related. We are moving into areas where the concept of linear time will fail us. Indeed, without a concept of serial (looped) time, the first sentence will seem nothing more than a play on words. Most people subscribe to the concept of linear time, and they focus most of their energies on their little corner, on the present. That is the same as saying that the past and the future are not parts of their job description, which is irresponsible.

Only in serial time is it possible to come into being before one comes into being. As Charles Fort said, "One measures a circle beginning anywhere." That point where one begins will always be the point that one comes back around to. That point, in time, is the Alpha and Omega, both beginning and end. For Jesus to claim that title, he must realize that he has been this way before. This sentence may hint at reincarnation, but his words clearly indicated "the one." Possibly, this sentence may indicate the one spirit within. To interpret this sentence in this way may explain prophecy, not as looking ahead, but as memory left over from the last time through the circuit.

So then, how does the first sentence relate to the second sentence? If they ingest his sayings, make them a part of their general make-up, then they share that one inside of them who has already been, and has come around again. And now, we want to pay especial attention to the word ?stones.? Indeed, to most people, to people who subscribe to the linear concept of time, the sayings of the living Jesus will never be ingested, or internalized. They will never be disciples, and the words of truth will be about as useful to them as stones on the ground. The only way in which these stones, these sayings of the living Jesus, may be of any possible use is if they are ingested and made a part of one?s nature, character, and personality. As an aside, I would like to remind many that the word ?stone?, in old times, was used to indicated a testicle. Now, if that is what Jesus spoke of, it all comes back around to the same thing: as it is said in the book of 1st John 3:9, "Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin; for his seed (the secretion from his stones) remaineth in him: and he cannot sin, because he is born of God."

So now, by internalizing the words, we share in the one who has already been. Also, because we share the nature of our father (his seed remains in us), we share in paradise. If so, then there are, in paradise, five evergreen trees that are there just for us. What is there purpose? I will not go into that here; I will simply say that these five trees (and perhaps their purpose(s)) may be named in Joel 1:12. To know these trees, to be knowledgeable of them and familiar with them will lead one away from the ingestion of death. Possibly this is that point that one comes back around to before beginning to trace the circle again.

In passage 50, Jesus said, "If they say to you, 'Where have you come from?' say to them, 'We have come from the light, from the place where the light came into being by itself, established [itself], and appeared in their image.' If they say to you, 'Is it you?' say, 'We are its children, and we are the chosen of the living Father.' If they ask you, 'What is the evidence of your Father in you?' say to them, 'It is motion and rest.'" Consider the incorporation of the larger by the smaller. Consider the plurality of oneness. Consider the dual-nature of reality. Can you imagine drinking a glass of water and becoming a glass of water? Can you imagine that if another drinks from that same glass, the two of you become that same glass of water? Can you imagine the beginning and the end as drinking, and becoming drinkable? In the canon, Christ (the Alpha and Omega) offered himself as the bread of life. If we truly are what we eat, as the expression goes, then to eat the bread of life makes us to become the bread of life. Are you edible?

Two things caught my eye. One: ?and appeared in their image? and two, ?your Father in you?. About the former: if I said that I came from the light, and appeared in their image, you might naturally zero in on the word ?their?. Two possible interpretations present themselves. The first is that Christ, as in "I am the light", is only one light in, say, an entire society of lights. The second is that the light, as a spiritual quality, takes the host it possesses as it?s image in this world. As to ingestion, we want to know the evidence of the spiritual father being inside of us. That evidence is worded in the simplest possible manner - the evidence is the very nature of reality. Consider, for example, the motion and the rest involved in the process of breathing.

There is a natural progression from men to the children of men. It lies in the fact that the children are an upgrade of what came before them. Men see their children as a brighter future, but that future may be a little daunting; it might be better if the past did not have to linger. There is, along with the natural progression, a natural antagonism between the old school and the new school. I say ?school? because the bone of contention is not found in the basic functions of life: earning a living, providing for one?s dependents, or any of the other pillars of normal existence. The bone of contention lies within the higher mental areas of politics, philosophy, personal/national faith, and spiritual interpretation. If the old school could cease to exist once it engendered the new, all would be well. But all is not well: it is made to linger, made to maintain its place in all things, made to defend its strength and its power. The new school is nothing less than a threat. All of that may be seen in the next verse, but there is even more than that to be seen in Mark 9:31, "For He taught His disciples, and said unto them, The Son of man is delivered into the hands of men, and they shall kill Him; and after that He is killed, He shall rise the third day." This may well reference Hosea 6:2, but please note Christ?s own words. He aligns Himself with the camp of the children of men, in opposition to the camp of men. He assigns Himself as the upgrade: the son of mankind.

Our thoughts place Christ as the son of God. This section showcases the other side of that coin. He was also called the son of man, and men often called Him a man. Christ?s own reference of Himself was as ?man? and ?son of man?. My thoughts, here, are that Jesus had taken on the mantle of ?leading by example?. In being an example, the epithet of ?son of man? was more a reference of those to whom He was a leader. The language takes a forward step: ?children of men? becomes ?sons of men?. In that context, when Christ says the son of man will be delivered, He is also saying the sons of men will be delivered. Note the connection in Luke 9:44, "Let these sayings sink down into your ears: for the Son of man shall be delivered into the hands of men." Let us look sideways at the language of the Bible. Try this exercise in the following verse: replace ?firstborn? with ?example? and replace ?spirits? with ?minds?. Hebrews 12:23, "To the general assembly and church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect." Let us remember two things for later: one, the term ?just men?, for Jesus was called a just man, and two, John 3:27, "John answered and said, A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven."

We have broached the topic of the children of men, the son of mankind being the upgraded version of man. The two extremes, of course, are these: that the first is corporeal and the second is spiritual. It is as if we walk a fence. When it is shaken, which side will you fall on? It is that dual nature thing again. It is that God realizing Himself by reverse engineering thing again. But I am putting forth nothing new. Men of old (or should I say, the children of men of old?) have considered these very things. See 1 Corinthians 15:47, "The first man is of the earth, earthy: the second man is the Lord from heaven."

The difference between version 1.01 and version 1.02 is this: just a bit more unction. There are grades within grades; there are levels within levels. One may look down, and note with glee, that he stands on the shoulders of former giants; and then he looks up to realize that the one standing on his shoulders makes him feel somewhat smaller. Tell me where you stand in Psalms 31:19, "Oh how great is Thy goodness, which Thou hast laid up for them that fear Thee; which Thou hast wrought for them that trust in Thee before the sons of men!" There can be stars even in a white sky. Trust is neither a physical action nor an emotional inclination. It is a choice: an action of mentality that falls within the category of understanding. The same teacher that taught our ?firstborn? speaks to us as well. Listen to Proverbs 8:4-5, "Unto you, O men, I call; and my voice is to the sons of man. O ye simple, understand wisdom: and, ye fools, be ye of an understanding heart (mind)."

We may say that Christ was an example of a spiritual God realized in a corporeal man. God, in order that He may inhabit man, must first reverse engineer the corporeal to achieve a compatible habitat. Jesus is the pattern for future habitats. There were two coexistent states, and in the person of Jesus, the spiritual and the corporeal were no longer mutually exclusive. However, friends, neighbors, family, and disciples only saw the physical man. They saw Him glow; they saw Him walk on water; they saw Him ascend and many other things as well, but it was the man they saw. They were men, and Christ strove to reach their higher natures: to get them to open their minds to higher possibilities. See John 3:3 & 5, "Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God . . . Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." Did Jesus align Himself with the born again? In speaking to Nicodemus, Jesus was telling him things that he was already supposed to know. That point is all too easily seen, but Jesus went on to say in verse 11, "We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen; and ye receive not our witness." Indeed, it seems that Jesus did include Himself with the born again. Perhaps such meat will cause discomfort to some, but I ask this - is not the divinity of Jesus the Spirit inhabiting the flesh? He told Nicodemus in verse 6, "that which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the spirit is spirit." Yet, He stood before Nicodemus as both; as one firstborn "of water and of the spirit." It follows that if we, being born again, are remade after the example of Jesus, then Jesus could have been that first star in a sky of white - or: ?son of man? version 1.02.

Jesus was a man the people knew. They knew His family, His history, His hometown. They considered, spoke to, and spoke about Him both before and during His ministry. The man was His appearance. Some people judged Him to be only a man (for the question had been raised), but one has to ignore certain facts, or align oneself with philosophies of some other camp, to judge only by the appearance. See John 7:24-27, "Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment. Then said some of them of Jerusalem, Is not this He, whom they seek to kill? But, lo, He speaketh boldly, and they say nothing unto Him. Do the rulers know indeed that this is the very Christ? Howbeit we know this man whence He is: but when Christ cometh, no man knoweth whence He is." Isn?t it the spirit?s coming and going that cannot be determined? That is, at least, what Jesus told Nicodemus. There was, it seems, a general misunderstanding about the coming of Christ that even believers had a hard time getting around. And all the while, Christ remained a man in their eyes. Look at John 7:28-31, "But I know Him: for I am from Him, and He hath sent Me. Then they sought to take Him: but no man laid hands on Him, because His hour was not yet come. And many of the people believed on Him, and said, When Christ cometh, will He do more miracles than these which this man hath done?"

So Jesus was thought of as a man. Many of the people in His day were unaware of His history, or else they lumped all His past into the current locality of Galilee. The movement stemmed from that region. Anyone who reasoned beyond the basic nuts and bolts of accepted argumentation was considered a case for either pride or insanity. But, even in the concession that Jesus might be a prophet, He was still considered only a man. See John 7:50-52, "Nicodemus saith unto them, (he that came to Jesus by night, being one of them,) Doth our law judge any man, before it hear him, and know what he doeth? They answered and said unto him, Art thou also of Galilee? Search, and look: for out of Galilee ariseth no prophet."

The problem is that there has never been one standard interpretation of Christ hood, or divinity. Both involve the person of corporeal man. To men, the children of men seem no more than themselves. It is a historical certainty that men saw Christ as a man. Even the higher thoughts of the divinity of Jesus were usually colored by the fact that He was a man. See Acts 10:38 and 1 Timothy 2:5, "God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with power. For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus." In the verse from Acts, the ?anointing? seems similar to that of the apostles. Read Luke 24:49 and John 20:22. Even as He died on the cross for the sins of the world, humanity thought of Him as a man. Matthew 27:47 puts it this way, "Some of them that stood there, when they heard that, said, This man calleth for Elias." As I said earlier, even believers have a hard time getting their heads around deeply ingrained dogma. Is Jesus the son of man or the son of God? Scripture indicates that early writers had little difficulty with the integrated concept of a man being the son of God. For shades of grey see Mark 15:39, "And when the centurion, which stood over against Him, saw that He so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God."

A canon of our faith is that God created through the agency of His Son: see Colossians 1:13 - 17. He is the potter, we are the clay. He is the builder, we each a house. That tenet is plainly displayed in Hebrews 3:3, "For this man was counted worthy of more glory than Moses, inasmuch as He who hath builded the house hath more honour than the house." Still in all, the writer of this pivotal book counts Jesus a man comparable to Moses. Why do I point to such texts? I point to an underlying truth that contemporary thought must digest. It is not the easy milk of established dogma, it is the actual meat and gristle of the word. A hard truth disturbs the smooth skin of acceptable Christian preconception. That underlying truth is that corporeality and spirituality are not mutually exclusive.

Man is a beast with a keen interest in the spiritual. Man examines his spirit, but his eyes see only flesh. The issue has never been if there is spirituality in man, but where, precisely, the connection lies. That connection is mentality. I assert that the human brain is a corporeal engine that facilitates the spiritual intrusion of thought. We think, we dream, we hope. If these things were flesh, we would see them, but they are invisible; they are spiritual intrusions. Remember the earlier assertion that the two trees in Eden were points of spiritual intrusion? Here is another of my wild rants - which, as it turns out, is a vague and very tame connection: the human brain, along with the spinal column, and its tree-likeness. Note the rustling of mental branches in the following verse; a rustling that seemed all too real to the one being swayed. Note that Jesus is again called a man. Matthew 27:19, "When he was set down on the judgment seat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man: for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of Him."

Just as the wife of the Governor suffered a spiritual event in her sleeping body, the ?centurion? had a spiritual response to an event that was all too physical. The writers of the New Testament may seem a bit slow in their deification of the man Jesus: they retain Him in the writings as a ?man?, as a ?just man?, as a ?righteous man?. Would they retain the flesh of the Son of God if the flesh was a real obstacle to His deity? Luke 23:47, "Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man." Again, note the writers of the New Testament portraying Jesus as a man, albeit a man of spiritual capability, in Acts 2:22, "Ye men of Israel, hear these words; Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved of God among you by miracles and wonders and signs, which God did by Him in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know." I point to the spiritual within the body of a man. Above, the centurion glorified God. If God is glorified merely in the recognition of a "righteous man," I ask, does that lessen Christ or elevate His adherents?

The faithful look to the deity of Christ, thinking that only by the piety and absolute sinlessness of the Son of God may the blood offered be effectual in the remission of sins. But the early writers must not have thought that spirituality and corporeality were mutually exclusive. Our redeemer was portrayed as a man: THE MAN through Whom forgiveness of sins was offered See Acts 13:38, "Be it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins." It is the case that, over the span of centuries, certain romanticized notions have sprung up and taken root. The early writings, however, painted reality with fewer rose-colored tints. They, in fact, offer an image the contemporary Christian finds offensive. They show us a corporeal man whose miracles flowed from an internal spring: the spirit. They painted a portrait that did not diminish the physical nature of the Son of God. This picture of Christ, furthermore, received the endorsement of some early scholars and experts. Nicodemus said this in John 3:2, "The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto Him, Rabbi, we know that Thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that Thou doest, except God be with Him."

Is it possible to recognize God in a man? Of course it is. When men are aware of a godly man, does that man?s corporeality cease? No. Many people looked right at the flesh of Jesus, recognized His divinity, and still called Him a man. One centurion compared Jesus to himself, suggesting that the position of Christ was neither at the top nor the bottom of the chain of command, but that His power and authority were both above and below. For Christ as a man set under authority see Luke 7:6-8, "Then Jesus went with them. And when He was now not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to Him, saying unto Him, Lord, trouble not Thyself: for I am not worthy that Thou shouldest enter under my roof: Wherefore neither thought I myself worthy to come unto Thee: but say in a word, and my servant shall be healed. For I also am a man set under authority, having under me soldiers, and I say unto one, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it."

The word sent by the centurion was the opinion of a working stiff; the opinion of a regular guy. He was not a great thinker, an expert in laws of religion, or an especially learned man. He was not even of the Hebrew persuasion or mind set. His interpretations were based in the things he already knew. But he recognized the power and authority in the man he had sent for. He was, in all likelihood, the type of man that ?called a spade a spade?. But, if the witness of experts and common men is not good enough, let us turn to the witness of Jesus, Himself. See John 9:4, "I must work the works of Him that sent Me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work." If this verse does not convince you that the very Christ considered Himself a man, then we resort to a verse where He actually says ?I am a man?. See John 8:40, "But now ye seek to kill Me, a man that hath told you the truth, which I have heard of God."

Christ associated Himself with the human condition. That is what lay behind the expression ?Son of man?. It referred to the better man; it referred to the spiritually inclined man. The expression not only pointed a finger in the direction of Ezekiel, but by extension, it pointed toward the children of men as potential Ezekiels: corporeal men filled with the spirit of God, in communication with God, in dedicated service to the will of God. The Son of man offered Himself as example of all that the children of men could be. When Christ used the term ?Son of man?, the sons of men were referenced inclusively. With that in mind, read Mark 2:27-28, "And He said unto them, The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath: Therefore the Son of man is Lord also of the sabbath."

You may have noticed the tremendous amount of conceptual overlap. In all, it is a process of realization. ?B? is changing ?A? into ?B? while ?C? is changing ?B? into ?C?. We might properly say that we are exploring an entity with many faces. I put this thought forward only in the spirit of preparation for further thinking: ?man? is ?children of men? is ?sons of men? is ?son of man? is ?angel? is ?son of God?. I have asserted that man may indeed be attached to an angelic other. If we can consider that man may have within himself the makings of a more nearly spiritual being, might we not also be able to ask this question: can a ?Son of Man? be an ?angel??

In our language, a word is associated with another word. Two examples: we associate ?Messiah? with ?Son of Man?; we associate ?Prince? with ?angel?, or perhaps more precisely with ?archangel?. The progressions are easy and comfortable due to familiarity. Jesus is the ?son of man?, the ?son of God?, the ?savior?, the ?Christ?, the ?messiah?. But, how is it that angels are called Princes? Where is it? We find angelic appellations such as the ?prince of the host? (of heaven), ?Michael one of the chief princes?, ?Michael your prince?, ?Michael the great prince?, in the book of Daniel.

Angels have a hierarchy as do men. Perhaps we learned it from the angels. ?Principalities and powers?. The fallen angel, Lucifer, is also called a prince. Princes, traditionally, have been the elite, just under kings. Rulers come from the ranks of princes. Joseph was one of the twelve princes of Israel. He ruled in Egypt. Daniel was a prince of Judah; he was set up to rule just under the king of the Medes and Persians. ?Prince of princes? is found in the book of Daniel; ?prince of peace?, in the book of Isaiah. Jesus, the son of man is called the ?prince of the kings of the earth? in the New Testament. Could Christ have been an angel? It is possible. Could the spirit of God within the physical Jesus have been His angelic other? The connection is quick and painless. Daniel 9:25, "Messiah the Prince."

If we, the children of men, are to become like our example, Christ, then what are we to become? What is the nature of Christ? Was Christ?s work bent toward the rejection of corporeality, or the formation of a ?spiritual corporeality?? Is our Lord a man, a spirit, or both? Read Ephesians 4:13, "Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto ( a formative verb ) a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ." What is the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ? Is it the ?perfect man?? These are not light and frivolous questions we ask. If our ?savior? is a perfect man (and I must add for the contemporary Christians: ?only a perfect man?), what does that say about God? Read Hosea 13:4, "Yet I am the Lord thy God from the land of Egypt, and thou shalt know no god but Me: for there is no saviour beside Me."

We know that the ?Son of God? was a man of flesh and blood. Nothing new there. We know it was intentional that He was corporeal. Again, nothing new. But the mind wants to see that purpose and immediately pop back to the spiritual deity of Christ, rejecting the connection to His body. When one really stops on this point for any length of time, the realization begins to sink in that the purpose was not about a dissociated spirit inhabiting a body for the duration of the work, and then taking a cab home, but as part of the work, the purpose insisted that a spiritual savior be a flesh and blood man. If otherwise, the death would not have been death but only the appearance of death; the resurrection would not have been resurrection but only the appearance of resurrection. A dissociated spirit inhabiting a body would have suffered nothing, would have sacrificed nothing. One is led to believe that the existence of a spiritual / corporeal sacrifice was intended for nothing short of a spiritual / corporeal salvation. See Romans 8:3, "For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh."

Let us return to the great reflection, that Alice in Wonderland Mirror we?ve been studying. Man, we have determined, is the image and glory of God, and no one more so than His own son, Jesus. We tend to see the body as a thing in and of itself. When people mourn the dead, they mourn the spiritless body - indeed, it is dead for that singular reason. Our living existence is a physical and spiritual collaboration. When we look at a physical (that is, a visible) man, there is a whole half to him we cannot see, but that unseen half is comprehended in and by those parts we do see, for that half that is visible to the eye is the mirror image of the invisible. Christ, Himself, fell into this category. The Jesus that walked this earth was a reflection of the Son of God. See that reflection in Romans 8:29, "For whom He did foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He (the image) might be the firstborn among many brethren." This points very clearly to a plan where the many should become like the first. That was the mind set of the New Testament authors: that man should become more angelic in nature - corporeal beings fully reflecting the spirit within. Like us, Jesus was a man attached to His angelic other, though more perfectly aligned. That reflection is not so much a physical one, rather it is seen in the unseen things to do with each of us: If God is the mind of an angel, and that mind was fully realized in Christ, then it was by His mentality that He communicated the image to others. Within those others were the stirrings of a dual nature in balance: the spirit filled man. The New Testament authors wrote of common knowledge. See Matthew 9:8, "But when the multitudes saw it, they marvelled, and glorified God, which had given such power unto men."

Now, we know the players, but we seek to peer behind the masks. We look for new ways to understand. Thus, we climb ever higher, seeking a zenith from which we may have the broadest overview. We chisel away at the old stone dogmas. But, that we blunt our bronze blades: we shall soon trade them in for iron, and we shall make dull the keen edges of many more such tools. Yet, in our dawning iron age of spiritual investigation, we may learn a tactic tailor made for the seekers of truth, and that is that ?iron sharpeneth iron?. Mark 8:38, "Whosoever therefore shall be ashamed of Me and of My words (spiritual/mental communications) in this adulterous and sinful generation; of him also shall the Son of man be ashamed, when He cometh in the glory of His Father (the spirit within) with the holy angels (sons of men, perhaps?) ."

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Daniel

My date of birth is 1/8/54 (1954)

The address where I grew up was 954 Howell Place.

The first combination lock I owned had a combination of 9-5-4.

Of course, I can see 8:54 and 9:54 twice daily on the clock.

These numbers feel important personally, and so, I have given them some thought over the years.

The Hebrews ascribed meaning to numbers, such as ?3' being the number for the Trinity. We are all aware of numbers that stem from Hebrew numerology. ?666' for the anti-christ is on that we all know well. My number, ?8', was ascribed to salvation because there were 8 people on Noah?s Ark. Just as the anti-christ was ascribed a number, Christ, too, was given a number which was 888. And what follows salvation? I say growth and change. I view the number 9 as a number of change.

Years ago I heard the number 54 mentioned in regard to two things: Precession (or the wobble in the Earth?s orbit), and the temple of Angkor Wat. On the many doors, or gates of the temple, and perhaps on surrounding temples, there are to be seen 54 gods on one side and 54 demons on the opposing side. I copied the following extract from an article on Angkor Wat: The number 72, and to a lesser extent the numbers 54, 108, and 144, have been associated with the designs of these sites, particularly at the Great Pyramid and Angkor. The ratio of the height and the perimeter of the Great Pyramid, to the size of the Earth, is a multiple of 72. The number of temples built around Angkor is 72, and the number 54 is reflected in the numbers of statuary in the temples at Angkor. The use of these numbers is also prevalent in ancient writings and folklore surrounding these sites. The number 54 is itself a factor of 72, in that 72 plus ½½ of 72, or 36, equals 108, which divided by two equals 54. The number 72 is also associated with the astronomical phenomenon known as precession, because 72 years is the length of time it takes for the constellations to move one degree due to precession.

This all leads me to the event we call precession. Now, I am not normally mathematical, but when I have a calculator in hand, I can find a way around my native mental block of numbers. This is, then, where my calculator took me.

Precession = 26,000 years.

Divided by 54, I got 481.48148

Divided by 481, I got 54.054054

From there, I went on to lesser divisions:

481 divided by 54 = 8.9074074

54 by 9 gave me 6 and 54 by 8 gave me 6.75

Then I tired of division, and momentarily tried my hand at multiplication. This followed.

54 x 3 = 162. 1+6+2 = 9.

48 x 3 = 144 (pretty gross, huh?). 1+4+4 = 9.

I went here because each of the bigger numbers had three sets: three sets of 54 and three sets of 48. It seemed wherever I went, I came back to 9. It?s like being in a maze.

Then I tried addition. I added the two larger numbers and got 10220220. However I added the numbers, I always came back to 9:

1+2+2+2+2 = 9.

10+22+22 = 54. 5+4 = 9.

10+220+220 = 450. 4+5 = 9. 4+50 + 54 and of course 5+4 = 9.

102+20+220 = 342. 3+4+2 = 9.

1022+220 = 1242. 1+2+4+2 = 9. 12+42 = 54. 5+4 = 9.

I took another look at the numbers 54 and 9. I saw that the number six could be divided into 54 a total of 9 times, or in other words, there were 9 sixes in 54. That took me in yet another direction.

666 666 666 each added up to:

18 18 18 which, in turn, each added up to:

9 9 9.

Now, 18 times 3 equals 54.

9+9+9 = 27. 2+7 = 9.

Then again, 666 times three equals 1998. 1+9+9+8 = 27. You guessed it: 2+7 = 9.

19+98 = 117. 1+1+7 = 9.

199+8 = 207 which any way I add it, comes back to 9.

1+998 = 999 - and we?ve already been there.

1+99+8 = 108. 1+8 = 9. 10+8 = 18. 1+8 = 9.

Finally, I went back to division. I divided 666666666 by 54 and this is what I got:

123456789.

These, of course, add up to 45, and that brings me again to 9.

9 seems to be intrinsically linked to my life. It is everywhere. 8 seems to only be just a little less important, but the two numbers go together like peas and cornbread:

8+9 = 17. 1+7 = 8: the day of the year on which I was born.

1+8+5+4 = 18. 1+8 = 9.

Just the year is 1+9+5+4 = 19. At this point, I could have simply subtracted and come back to 8, but I did not wish to practice manipulation at this late stage, so I added again for the last time:

1+9 = 10. 1+0 = 1.

Do you see it, or am I the only one?

More meaningless math:

WWII ended in '45. I was born 9 years later, in '54. (4+5=9/5+4=9)

10 years later I'm 10 years old, it's '64: (6+4=10)

5 years later I'm 15 and it's '69: (6+9=15)

2 years later I hit a reversal of sorts. It's '71 & I'm 17.

That basically covers the first 17 years of my life, and represents my birth number 8. (1+7=8)

I don't hit another reversal until '82 in which year I turned 28 and then again in '93, in which year I turned 39.

the yearly calculations fllow as such:

'72 (7+2=9) 18 (1+8=9)

'73 (7+3=10) 19 (1+9=10)

'74 (7+4=11(1+1=2)) 20 (2+0=2)

'75 (7+5=12(1+2=3)) 21 (2+1=3)

'76 (7+6=13(1+3=4)) 22 (2+2=4)

'77 (7+7=14(1+4=5)) 23 (2+3=5)

'78 (7+8=15(1+5=6)) 24 (2+4=6)

'79 (7+9=16(1+6=7)) 25 (2+5=7)

'80 (8+0=8) 26 (2+6=8)

'81 (8+1=9) 27 (2+7=9)

'82 (8+2=10) 28 (2+8=10)

'83 (8+3=11) 29 (2+9=11)

'84 (8+4=12(1+2=3)) 30 (3+0=3)

'85 (8+5=13(1+3=4)) 31 (3+1=4)

'86 (8+6=14(1+4=5)) 32 (3+2=5)

'87 (8+7=15(1+5=6)) 33 (3+3=6)

'88 (8+8=16(1+6=7)) 34 (3+4=7)

'89 (8+9=17(1+7=8)) 35 (3+5=8)

'90 (9+0=9) 36 (3+6=9)

'91 (9+1=10) 37 (3+7=10)

'92 (9+2=11) 38 (3+8=11)

'93 (9+3=12) 39 (3+9=12)

'94 (9+4=13(1+3=4)) 40 (4+0=4)

'95 (9+5=14(1+4=5)) 41 (4+1=5)

'96 (9+6=15(1+5=6)) 42 (4+2=6)

'97 (9+7=16(1+6=7)) 43 (4+3=7)

'98 (9+8=17(1+7=8)) 44 (4+4=8)

'99 (9+9=18(1+8=9)) 45 (4+5=9)

And here it breaks down. I have to turn to subtraction.

2000 (2+0=2) 46 (4 from 6=2)

2001 (2+1=3) 47 (4 from 7=3)

2002 (2+2=4) 48 (4 from 8=4)

2003 (2+3=5) 49 (4 from 9=5)

Another switch. Go figure!

2004 (2+4=6) 50 (5+0=5)

It's like a leap year or something.

2005 (2+5=7) 51 (5+1=6)

2006 (2+6=8) 52 (5+2=7)

2007 (2+7=) 53 (5+3=8)

Any way, I like the final fact. I was born on the 8th day of '54, And in '08 I turned 54.