Godssecret's Weblog


SPARKS OF LIGHT COULD BE FLYING FROM YOUR HAND — GET CONNECTED

 

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Shiny sparks of Holy Knowledge
March 24, 2010, 10:28 am
Filed under: Gematria, Light, spiritual proof



A very strange story
March 23, 2010, 9:57 am
Filed under: strange tales, Uncategorized

UPDATED NOV 27 2016

A GOOD STORY FOR THE SHABOT TABLE

Every night the TavrigerRav lit a candle and sat in his room learning. One night thelight was spotted and a team of soldiers came bursting threw hisdoor. In a heartbeat he was sentenced to death. He was asked ifhe had any last requests. He said, “You caught me in the middleof a very difficult Rambam. I would like a few minutes to try and get clarity in it. In those passing minutes the noise of national army was heard in the distance and the enemy soldiers fled. For some, a few minutes of life means a few more minutes of learning. For all, a few more minutes of learning means life. Every once in a while we get to see it clearly.

Here follow the famous story of Yosef Mokir Shabbat (Joseph who honors the Sabbath) who was especially known by this title even by non-Jews due to his special honor for Shabbat by buying special delicacies for Shabbat.  Anyways, there was this rich non-Jew in town who was warned by astrologers that his positions would be taken over by the Jew known as Yosef Mokir Shabbat.  Fearing this prediction, he sold all of his possessions for a precious pearl which he placed in his hat that he was wearing.  Then one day, he passed by a river, and puff…the wind blew his hat into the river, which was swallowed by a fish.  Before long, fisherman were attempting to catch some fish at the river on a Friday, and after waiting long for their efforts, they came up with a big fish.  However, it was rather late in the day, and the Jews in town already had made their Sabbath purchases, and so there was no special demand of fish at this time of day (there was no refrigeration the way that we have it today, and hence, were afraid of loosing a day’s work worth of fish).  Then, someone suggested “Hey, we know of the perfect customer – Yosef Mokir Shabbat”.  Upon this, they wasted no time coming to his door with the prized fish, which he gladly paid for.  He then opened up the fish in preparing it for Shabbat, only to find that pearl that the rich non-Jew lost; following which, the Jew sold it for 13 attics full of gold dinars, making him a wealthy person.  Now, the story does end off with who is believed to be Eliyahu HaNovi (Elijah the prophet) who encountered him, telling him what the rabbis say that one who borrows to honor the Shabbat, the Shabbat repays him back, and we can all learn from this story when it comes to having faith in Hashem in terms of honoring the Shabbat via our finances.

it is interesting to note that the particular number used in reference to Yosef Mokir Shabbat becoming wealthy as a result of his honoring the Shabbat is 13, and perhaps is even the basis, along with what I have mentioned in the past, as to why non-Jews consider the number 13 a most  unluckly number, while we Jews consider this a most lucky number.  And to think of it, this story of the fish took place on a Friday.  Indeed, following the story of the non-Jew loosing his wealth to a Jew who became wealthy on Friday and sold the pearl for 13 measures of gold, it is no wonder why non-Jews have a superstitious crush on Friday the 13th

 

Yesterday I posted something on the “superstition

mountains” . Today I was on a thread about faces

of Holy men and someone put up part of this story

from the “superstition mountains”.  I found more

of it. There is no coincidences , Its a very strange story.

I am submitting to all Dragonslayers a multipart true life adventure as told to me by one of our members as he experienced it 24 years ago. Some of you know him for who he is; a retired, at the age of 22, highly decorated Vietnam war veteran who was Special Forces trained and who served three tours fighting communists, rescuing POW’s and working special missions for Air America. It cost him his right leg, yet he was still well equipped to meet this next period of his life. Keep in mind that the Soldier had no knowledge of Dracs at the time. When we met, and he began his new education to what is going on around him, and I could see curious recognition from time to time coupled with a deep fear that he quickly hid. It was three months later that he told me of his 18 month ordeal in the Superstition Mountains in May of 1975 . The story came grudgingly at first; obviously with much mental pain, and with occasional reluctance and reservation. But because of what he knows now, taught by myself and others on DS, he knew he couldn’t keep hidden what he now recognized as a Draco base camp. He desires to use for the present a fictitious name for his boss…. we will call “Phil Allen”.

Here is the beginning of his story…. of his life for two years among the Dracos and Pteradons with their little ( 5 foot) Pets!!

In May of that year, I was asked to join a group of men who were bringing gold out of the Superstitions. The leader, Phil Allen, spent 20 years of his life researching Mexican archives, Spanish landgrants and Mexican Government documents. He discovered what he believed to be routes to 9 of the 12 Peralta family mines. Phil enlisted the aid of several others and together they found all 9. Using pack mules and horses, they moved in electric generators, hand held drills, food and supplies and set up a base camp 15 miles in. Others would keep this camp supplied and alternating teams of men would keep the mining camp supplied….well supplied…especially with ice, lots of ice as they liked to drink cold beverages, the one pleasure of the long hot day.

Since the last of the mines, No.’s 7, 8, & 9 were the most productive, they started there, core mining much in the ways the old timers had 150 yrs prior. The operation was covert. It was illegal for civilians to own bulk gold in those days. It was processed and flown out of the country. At 18 to 25 ounces per ton, it was a lucrative business at best. The mining camp was very small. It was at the top of a small arroyo or ‘holler’ and measured about 60′ square.. flaked on two walls by cliffs going up…on one by a sheer 90′ drop-off and open on the arroyo side which looked downhill of the 1/4 mile long arroyo. The mines were in the sides of the arroyo walls… so was the Draco entrance to their lair. Two-thirds of the way down from the mini-camp was a small stand of pinion pine trees..about 400 yards away and downhill.

Phil Allen knew. He had known of their existence for over 20 years. He had read of them in the old archives. He knew what they were …but not why- they were. Phil had spent his life in these mountains running down leads to the gold he was searching for. He saw them from time to time, following him, pacing his movements. Terrified at first, he soon came to the conclusion that if he simply ignored them nothing would happen…and nothing ever did.

It was different at the little camp, for in the arroyo walls was a fourth entrance, hidden behind brush as were all of the others. At first the group would set up a night guard for themselves. But it soon became evident that they could not continue mining by day and guarding by night. It was decided that they would hire a full time night guard. They lost five men in the first three months. One simply ran-never to be heard of again. Two returned via the base camp, not even stopping for water or supplies, they rode their horses clear out to U.S. 60 and on home! Two were found shredded, some parts missing but obviously quite dead. They were found down toward the end of the arroyo near a small stand of pinion pine trees, about two hundred yards from the camp. This was where the Dracs congregated and fed at night. This was were the Soldier’s year and a half nightmare began.

Let’s digress for a moment and set some background to this epic. Phil and I met years ago shortly after I had retired from Vietnam. We both had an affinity for guns and through the heat of a summer afternoon we drank beer at a bar in Apache Junction while discussingballistics and shooting. It came out that Phil and some friends owned a local horse ranch and when called, worked as stuntmen for whatever Hollywood movie set that needed them. We got along famously and over the course of the next two years, I learned horses-how to ride, how to care for them…how to do stunt falls…trick mounting and dismounting; and guns. They taught me how to fast draw, shooting two hundred rounds a day and reloading them in the evening. They had a quick draw holster rig that was handmade for me and periodically I would join them in the little skits doing stunt shoots and falls they put on at Rawhide.

Conversely, I taught them long range shooting; being the expert, and at the end of two years, all five were as deadly at 800 yard shots, as I had become at 50 feet with my Long Colt 45. We had fun.

From time to time the men would disappear for a few weeks at a time to do movie stunts leaving the operation of the ranch to me. More often, Phil would go with some of the men and some others that I didn’t know into the Superstition Mountains. When I would ask about it, I was told simply, “Don’t ask!” – and I accepted that. In May of ’75 Phil came to me and explained what they were doing. Phil had spent his entire life researching and prospecting in the Superstitions. He spent months in northern Mexico in libraries, monasteries and in family archives researching Spanish land grants looking for information on what others thought were only rumors, the mysteriousPeralta gold mines. These were the mines that the Peralta family supposedly had developed between the mid 1700’s and the early 1800’s. Phil spent twenty years of his life being rich one-year and then dirt poor the next. He found 9 of the 12 reported mines.

It was at this point that Phil decided he needed my help. After an afternoon and most of one evening explaining what he had accomplished and what he wanted me to guard, Phil offered me what appeared at the time to be an exorbitant amount of money for the job. I was to move into the mountains with them and literally live there; sleeping days and doing the guard job at nights. I would be guarding against would be claim jumpers and the occasional weekend warrior who had stumbled off the beaten path who needed guidance to forest service trails ……..and against the Others.

Phil then told me what he had seen over the years. Only fleeting looks and occasional glances of men who looked like lizards.

Apparently the mines, No.’s 7 , 8 and 9 were nestled in the middle of a whole community of them. I had a hundred questions none of which Phil could answer. Two things came out,

number 1- they did not attack the miners unless they went down to the stand of pinions near the end of the arroyo at night and–

number 2- there were unspeakable horrible screams, growls and sounds that came up the arroyo for hours on end.

I was to ignore them and under no circumstance leave the safety of the camp. I knew Phil Allen; and despite the disbelief running around inside my head, knew that he believed what he had just told me. I then suggested that the authorities be called in and was promptly told that the mining operation was covert at best, since owning bulk gold was illegal. Phil had worked too long and too hard all of his life for this fortune to lose it over some “anthropological throw back”. I went to bed that night doubting Phil Allen for the first time since knowing him. But for $5000 a month, I’ll stay up nights and listen to anything scream a little.

At dawn the next morning we were on our way to the base camp with a small convoy of supply trucks, pickups pulling horse trailers and a new crew to replace those at the base camp. The operation lacked for nothing. At the main camp we had steak, beer, water, tents with comfortable bunks and beds, generators and the fuel to run them with electric lights-there were barbecue grills, hibachi’s and ice; Sweet wonderful ice. 105 temperatures were a daytime norm and 110+ were too frequent to count. We lived on ice. I was told that at least half of the supplies muled in to us every few days was ice.

We arrived at the mining camp about 4pm on my first day. As we rode up the arroyo the stand of pinions was pointed out to me. I stopped to have a look around and everything appeared to be normal. There were no signs of anyone or anything having ever been there. Off to the north in the canyon wall could be seen the entrance to what Phil called their cave. It was slightly larger than 4′ in diameter and was perfectly round. Nature doesn’t do straight lines or round ones. That was obviously man made. As I turned to go back to my horse and continue up to the camp, something caught my eye between two clumps of scrub grass. Moving one aside I saw what immediately scared the living hell out of me. It was a footprint…… three toed, wide and long enough for my size 11 Cochran’s to fit inside the print.

This brought goosebumps up along my arms and a chill to my spine. “Lets go.” I said. I suddenly didn’t want to be there anymore. My mind was having a hard time absorbing what I’d just seen and making it come out normal. One part said that what you just saw cannot be, and the other part said, well, there it is. It was then too, as we rode up the arroyo, I understood the Hollywood movie term we’ve all heard, “I need a drink”. Phil had some cold Beam at the camp.

Finally we arrive at the mining camp; four men with horses and nine pack mules ready to be unloaded. The camp area itself was like a large flat rock about 60 feet square, more or less — and situated at the top of the arroyo. Off to the North side were some faded petroglyphs carved into the rock edge; A common thing throughout the desert southwest where Indian pilgrims and prospectors would carve or mark an area for whatever reason. While the other three were helping the two men that were already at the camp unload, I went down the 30 feet or so to see what Phil was using as a guard post. It was a series of boulders ranging from three and a half-to four feet high and each was nearly as wide, or wider. There were five of them arranged in a small semicircle, which was about fifteen feet long from one side of it to the other.

Two of them didn’t quite meet at the bottom leaving about a fifteen-inch gap in almost a square shape. I decided right then that it would become my prone firing position. I lay down and looked through. It would take a bit of clearing to get a clean shot from side to side; no problem there. The tops of the five boulders would be sufficient for a bench rest, a place where I could lay a rifle across the top of the boulder for a steadier shot down the slope toward the end of the arroyo, about 400 meters away. I made a mental note to have aiming stakes placed every fifty meters beginning at one hundred meters from the guard site. I didn’t like the curved gap between the tops of the boulders though. Phil would solve that later by having a few bags of concrete sent in and we would place other rocks between the boulders topped off by the flattest rocks that could be found from the abundant desert landscape in an effort to create as level a firing plane as possible. The arroyo walls were sheer all the way down with the usual desert flora and fauna abundantly flourishing. Some of that would have to be removed if for no other reason than to prevent someone from hiding behind it. The view of the stand of Pinions and Palo Verde trees was excellent from here. Again I made mental notes to have certain branches on particular trees removed and in two spots I had the smaller trees in front removed altogether.

The entrance to the cave was included in that clearance effort. I wanted to be able to see anything that moved in that part of the arroyo even if it was 400 metes away. Returning to my horse I pulled out the 30-06 Remington 700 that I had custom made here locally. The barrel was tuned and floated in the stock and was as accurate a weapon as man could make. I liked 180 grain, boattailed bullets for distance shooting and striking power at the end of a long shot. Those were custom made as well with just a little more power than the average factory round. My scope was a cheap Reddfield 3X9 variable but it suited me just fine and I was used to it. After years of practice I could hit anything I could see at 800 meters with relative ease so the 400 to 450 meter range I would have to deal with here was not going to be a problem.

Little did I know what changes were to be forthcoming.

Back up at the camp, the others were finished unpacking and caring for the mules and horses. It was a little crowded with six horses and four mules, but they were well hobbled and attached to a tie line in one corner of the camp area. Two of the men were just finishing up watering them as I came into the living area were the tents with cots inside were.

There was a rather sophisticated campfire/barbecue edifice made of cemented stones near the tents and one of the men was busily cooking up steaks and baked potatoes and ofcourse beans. Phil offered me a cold bud as I sat down on an empty box with some of the other men. There were six of us altogether and from what I was seeing each had his own specific assignment or job duty that tied in with everyone else. There was little wasted effort here!

“What do you think?” he asked.

“You tell me I’m up against giant lizard men capable of shredding a man wearing a .45 before he can pull it from his holster,” I said, referring to two of the five former guards who didn’t last. “These were stuntmen, quickdraw trained men who knew what they doing and they couldn’t protect themselves. What the hell good do you think I’m gonna’ be if they rush us?”

“They won’t.” Phil said.

“How can you say that! Is it just because they never have?”

“Nope, and I can’t tell you why either. A couple of times one of the big ones and a few of the little ones would come hauling ass up the canyon at us but they always stopped about fifty feet or so down from those boulders there and screamed and squalled at us for awhile before running back to that Palo Verde stand.”

“Hell, why didn’t you shoot ’em! I said.

“We did! Shit we’d burn up 30 or 40 rounds apiece and when they’d had enough, they would gather their dead and wounded and hightail it back down the canyon. They quit that shit though. Guess they couldn’t stand the losses.”

” I don’t understand. All they had to do was come up here and eat your asses up, but they stood out a ways and roared at you. This shit doesn’t add up, Phil. In fact, why have a guard at all? Looks like this rock is a safe haven for you.”

“Well, if it were up to me I probably wouldn’t have. I’ve been running around here for twenty years now and they haven’t bothered me. But if they do rush us or try to sneak up on us it’s going to be at night and I want some kind of warning if they do.”

“You won’t get much. Shit I could move half a dozen teams of SF troops right up to where that brush stops and you would never hear or see a thing – especially without a moon or a Starlight scope to see with.” “You want one?” he asked.

“What, a Starlight? Hell, they cost about $4 grand to start!”

“Look,” Phil said, ” I’m taking over $20 thousand a week out of here and flying it out of the county for processing to my banks in the Caymans. As long as the Feds won’t let us common citizens have bulk bouillon gold, I have no choice. I’m damn sure not gonna’ let things get fucked up just because of some goddamned anthropological throw back. The fuckin’ money is not the issue here!

Keeping my people safe is and I’ll spend what I need to keep this operation going for as long as I can. It won’t be long before some stupid ass ranger stumbles onto this and the game will be up anyway. For right now, you tell me what you need and I’ll see to it that you get it.”

“Alright. Bring in the best Starlight you can get and have it mounted on a Colt M16. I’m used to using it that way. Those Verdes are just about at the end of its range, but I like it better.”

“Be here in a week, ” he said, “Want another Bud?”

It was starting to get dark, and supper was being called out. We went over and sat down to eat a good medium rare steak.

night fell quickly after we ate. Not having slept till 4am that morning I was not looking forward to
spending the warm night trying to stay awake watching the grove and the arroyo walls some 400 yards
below me. The moon would be full later on but it was near 7:30p now and the grey of twilight was
fading quickly to pitch black. I wore a Colt .45 revolver and I laid out my Remington 30.06 (with
scope). The scope was a post instead of the usual crosshairs and I’d had the post tipped with a little
radioactive titanium so I could aim at night with it. Phil and several of the men crowded into my little
watch area with me. Since this was my first night Phil thought it prudent that someone be with me for
the first few hours. After all, the goal was to mine Peralta gold and although they wouldn’t admit it,
the crew was anxious to be back up to the safety of “the rock”. Using the 60x spotting scope I began
to methodically search the clearing and the trees that ringed it.
“Anything?”, Phil asked.
“No, nothing but shadows so far,” I answered. “Why don’t you go ahead and get some sleep. You’ll
know if I need some help!”, I said with half a grin.
“Nope, not yet. You’re the new kid on the block and I figure they’re gonna cook something up special
just for you.”
He no sooner did he quit talking than a spine splitting scream came spiking its way up the path from the
direction of the little grove. I hadn’t had a scared feeling like that since I was in Vietnam six years
earlier. I grabbed the spotting scope, knocked it out of focus in my hurry and then jammed the damn
thing into my eye in my haste to get a look at what made that sound. I lost precious moments clearing
the tears out of my eye and getting the focus back.
Phil dropped behind the wall of boulders cursing faster than I could hear it and his son-in-law, Ron hit
the ground at a dead run, falling to his knees next to Phil. He was carryiing a Remington 12ga and he
chambered a round as his head came up over the top of the boulders at the same time the barrel did.
What I saw make my blood run cold. Not just the lizards but the woman who was tied to the X cross
in the grove below me. The taller of the lizards leaned over and buried his head between her head and
right shoulder. It took a moment for her second scream of the night to reach us. It like to split me open
with it’s sound of pure terror and forlorn frustration. I grabbed my rifle, cranked the scope to it’s max
power setting and took another look. When that thing moved away from her most of the muscle
above her right clavicle was gone and although I couldn’t see color at night that far away, I knew
what I saw running down her blouse was her own blood.
“Take ’em both.”, Phil whispered.
I put my first round exactly between her eyes and the second into the lizard just below where his right
ear should have been. His head split open like a melon spewing crap everywhere.
“Oh, you done it now!”, and I could see a dozen or more of the lizard bastards running, zig-zagging
up the arroyo toward us using the boulders and brush for what cover they could.

Oh, you done it now!” and I could see a dozen or more of the lizard bastards running, zigzagging up
the arroyo toward us using the boulders and brush for what cover they could. Good timing on mother
natures part. The moon had just cleared the arroyo ridge and that whole valley light up! They were
heavy. The sound of them was like a herd of horses at a dead run, and from the way they moved
through the brush it was obvious that they weren’t having any trouble with night vision. Just as
suddenly it got quiet. I mean the only thing I could hear was the sound of our breathing.
“Why’d they stop?” I asked. Grabbing the spotter scope I began searching the ground between me
and where I’d last seen them. Not even a twig moved.
“They ain’t stopped.” Phil said. “Dobe, watch that right side! They like to come up over there and
throw rocks from there!”
“Rocks! Against guns! Common, man, these things can’t be that stupid! They oughta just charge
right in here and eat our ass with or without the technology I’ve seen so far!”
“Just you wait,” Phil said, “They throw a 10lb rock the size of a football like you’d throw a baseball.

Sighting through my 30.06 I concentrated on the last 150 yards between me and the bottom of the
arroyo and on a path about 20 yards wide. Swinging the rife back and forth I was looking for
movement of bush or beast. The chaparral, sage and cholla here were about waist high on a man but
it was thick. The rocks and boulders were rough edged and loose, so it stood to reason that anything
as big as these bastards were would make some sound or give away their position while moving
through it. Pedro, our cook and wrangler was to my left praying something in Spanish. At least I think
he was praying; I heard a lot of “Madre de Dios “ mixed in with what was obviously swearing. His hat
was pushed way back on his head and he was aiming down the barrel of his 30-30 carbine even
though it was too dark, even with the full moon, to use his sights. About five or six yards up and
behind us, Steffy sat on a camp stool, his 12ga. Wingmaster pump lying across his lap. Steffy was a
skeet champion in his young days and spent his time between running a horse ranch in Queen Creek
and funding Phil in his search for gold mines these days.
Phil was to my immediate right and had been looking through the 60X spotter scope doing the same
thing I was; working a path 20 X 150 yards, or so. I sure needed a cigarette right then; and a big cup
of coffee. I was a coffee-holic even back then.
I saw the movement of the brush about 80 yards in front of me just about the time Phil said my name.
“Got it,” I said, “You see anything besides moving bushes?”
“Nope.” His matter of fact answer was less than reassuring. “Look, there it is again!”
“I got it, but we’re being fucked with here! That’s the same bush that shook before; they’re not
coming from that direction, it’s a …..”
I didn’t get the word, ‘diversion’, out of my mouth before a flood of rocks started landing all around
us. A loud, Oomph, from behind me made me turn around in time to see Steffy falling off of his
campstool, blood running down his face. Ron went back to help him and to pull him out of the open.
Meanwhile the rest of the people on the line began shooting down into the arroyo blindly. Muzzle
flashes and the roar of rifles, shotguns and pistol deafened the night. Sometimes since having left
Vietnam, where I’d spent three years hunting communists in the 5th S.F. Gp., my mind would revert
back to those days where every instinct and ounce of training and hardcore experience were a part of
my every waking moment. It was so now. I had instinctively closed my eyes when everyone began
shooting so that I could save my night vision.
“Everybody move five feet right!” I screamed and I pushed Phil away from me as I moved five feet to
my right. Turning I yelled at Pedro to follow me to his right. The whole thing took five or ten seconds
to complete and we were no sooner moved than another barrage of rocks landed right where each
man had been before. Even the areas some 60 yards behind us received a smattering of rocks with
tents being bombarded and equipment being hailed upon. This time when I came up there were targets
aplenty for me! Some 40 to 50 yards in front of me ranged a line of Lizards across the arroyo, each
caught in the act of either throwing a rock or in having just launched one our way. I started on the left
and dropped the first four, each with a bullet at the point where his neck met his chest. The screams
of dying Lizards and outraged live ones made a new sound in the night. Dropping down, I reloaded,
and popped back up to take out the first of four more to my right. There hadn’t been time to adjust
my sights and my poor mans’ Redfield was still set at 9X. Lizard head and chest filled my sights to
capacity and the titanium tipped post glowed like a beacon in a storm. There was no thought to what I
was doing. I could see the fine scales around the cheeks and eyes that grew smaller and smaller as
they got close to the eye socket. The eye itself had a vertical pupil, like a cats and the mouth, filled
with jagged pointy teeth, wasn’t just in the center of the face but seemed to be hinged on each side of
the head and opened like the great maw of some Hollywood monster. Number one took my first 180
gr bullet down his throat; number two just above his upper lip. The third and fourth were by this time
running away from me and were both shot between the shoulder blades about where I thought a heart
would be. I never used the fifth round; I had grown into the habit of saving it for me. No matter; They
were on the run now, stopping only to pickup their dead and making no pretence of being stealthful or
quiet.
“You three stay here and keep an eye out, I’m going up to see how Steffy is.” Phil ordered. I light up
a much-needed Camel turned to Pedro and asked him if he still had coffee in the thermoses.
.

more

http://www.burlingtonnews.net/draconiansacrifices.html

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Strange things UNDERGROUND ?
March 22, 2010, 9:39 am
Filed under: mysterious phenomenon

THERE ARE MANY places around the US that seem to be focal points of high strangeness – vortexes of bizarre sightings, unexplained encounters and eerie events. Reports gathered over the decades have bestowed reputations on these locations as places you might not want to travel alone, or at least tread carefully. The interesting thing about most of these areas is that they are confluences of a variety of phenomena and strange things have been seen there.

The Superstition Mountains – Arizona

This mountainous area in south central Arizona didn’t get its name for nothing. And white men weren’t the first to note its bad vibrations; the Apache Indians called it the Devil’s playground.

Among the reported strangeness are:

  • An entry into a subterranean world. Those who claim to have penetrated the tunnel tell of the remains of ancient structures and a spiral staircase that leads down into the bowels of earth. Some say Reptilian humanoids have come out of these portals.

Tunnels and Entrances to another world

According to British explorer T. Wilkins, the Mongolian tribes of Inner Mongolia believe that there are entrances to a great tunnel system that leads to a subterranean world of Antediluvian descent somewhere in a recess of Afghanistan

Another entrance is found in Canada at the Nahanni Valley but many of those that have dared to enter this area have been found decapitated, it is at .The Nahanni Valley  is the  land of the Ojibways, the Slave, Dogribs, Stoney, the Beavers and the Chipweyans. It covers 250 square miles in the southern end of the Mackenzie Mountains of Canada and lies almost 550 miles due west of Fort Simpson on the Mackenzie River of northwest Canada. Hot springs and sulfur geysers keep the valley warmer than the surrounding areas by about 30 degrees year-round. This
land of perpetual mist is viewed by the Indians as dangerous and is avoided.

In northern Arkansas, a 12-man speleological team broke into an ancient tunnel system, encountering inhabitants of the inner-world. Just north of Batesville, explorers found a tunnel illuminated by a greenish phosphorescence where they met a race of beings who stood 7 to 8 feet tall and had bluish skin. The beings, who have advanced technology, told the explorers they are the direct descendents of Noah.  The Cherokee Indians also tell of this same race of blue men . According to the Cherokee they inhabited the areas of Kentucky as well. When the Cherokee came into that area, they killed these blue skinned men off. Apparently the Cherokee were wrong in their assumptions.

Southwestern California holds the  legend of Crystal Cave ,  a large cavern that links to Kokoweek Peak.  It was reportedly found by  Earl Dorr, a miner and prospector who  followed clues given to him by Indians. Dorr entered Crystal Cave in the thirties and followed a passage down into Kokoweef Mountain for about a mile. Here he entered a large cavern that he explored for a distance of eight miles. Flowing at the base of the cavern was a river and its banks were rich with deposits of gold.  For reasons only known to Dorr, he dynamited the entrance. The exact location of this sealed entrance is unknown today

The Livobba Cave is located in the province of Zapoteca, somewhere near the ancient village of Mictlan. The village of Liyobba ,translated is translated as “cavern of death”. The Cavern of Death was  located in the last chamber of an eight chamber building or temple. This temple had four rooms above
the ground and four more important chambers built below the surface of the Earth. This building was located in Theozapotlan and the tunnel entrance leads  beneath the mountain. Catholic priests in an earlier period of time descended into the caves with lit torches. They discovered what seemed to be an endless passageway with bones strewn before them from others that had come before them. As they advanced into the mountain, they were assailed with the smell of putrid air and snakes.  As they continued forth, a strong cold wind blew their torches out,
leaving them in the dark and causing them to take flight hurriedly back out of the cave. In retreating from the cave, the priest claimed they heard ghastly noises coming from within. When they managed to finally exit, the priest declared the cave of devils and sealed it.

This entrance, known as Hypogeum of Hal Saflienti,  is located on the island of Malta, near the  village of Casal Paula, which overlooks the town of Malta. In 1902, workmen digging a well in Casal Paula reportedly fell into a subterranean cavern which connected  to an entire complex of caves and tunnels. This discovery led to be a complex of cave, three of which were a series of chambers excavated out of solid rock on three even lower levels for each chamber. This series of underground rooms. When first explored, they found over 30,000 skeletons of men, woman and children inside.The tunnels under the Hypogeum were later  sealed off after 30 students entered the caves on a field trip and disappeared without a trace. The numerous efforts of search parties looking for the children and guide were in vain.

Somewhere in Staffordshire, England a field exists where a man, while digging a trench, discovered  a large iron plate beneath the dirt. The “hatch” was large and oval, with an iron ring mounted on it. This hatch covered an entrance leading into underground tunnels. The only clue we have to its location is that the field is in a valley surrounded by woods and that a report of its discovery can be found in  “A History of Staffordshire” by Dr. Plot, who wrote the book in the late 1700s.

Death Valley, CA.
This entrance is supported by the local Indian Legend which speaks of a tunnel that runs beneath Death Valley Desert and the people that used to live in the Panamint caverns. The entrance is in the Panamint Mountains down on the lower edge of the range near Wingate Pass, in the bottom of an old abandoned shaft.
These tunnels connect with the surface also through arched windows in the side of the mountain that look down on Death Valley. During ancient times, these windows were accessible by boat. The “windows” in the Death Valley side of the Panamint Mountains are about 4,500-5,000 feet above the bottom of Death Valley, and are across from Furnace Creek Ranch. From these openings you can see the green of the ranch below you and Furnace Creek Wash across the valley. (So, with high-powered binoculars or a telescope, you should be able to see the openings from the Furnace Creek Ranch, or Wash.) You can drive down Emigrant Canyon towards Death Valley. You can then park beside the road between Furnace Creek Ranch and the Salt Bed. (From here, the windows should be visible through binoculars.)

Some say Reptilian humanoids have come out of these portals.

More

http://paranormal.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=paranormal&cdn=newsissues&tm=126&f=00&su=p504.3.336.ip_&tt=2&bt=0&bts=0&zu=http%3A//www.livinginthelightms.com/in_search_of_shambhala2.html



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Secret of the Biblical animal sacrifices
March 19, 2010, 2:06 pm
Filed under: sacrifices

BS”D

VAYIKRA

Some people object to the idea of sacrifices out of concern for the welfare of animals. However, this objection contains a measure of hypocrisy. If this were true our first step should be to outlaw the killing of animals for food, clothing, and other material benefits.

Unless you are a vegetarian, you too practice animal sacrifice.
They eat the animals sacrificed.

Think of the Temple sacrifices as a big, sacred BBQ.

The Ramba”m, Moses Maimonides the great philosopher and codifier of Jewish law, writes (Guide for the Perplexed, 3:32) that animal sacrifice dates back to the most ancient times, having been a common form of worship from the earliest days of man’s need for religious expression and experience. He explains that the Torah incorporated this type of practice by providing for such offerings. In other words, God sought to give His people an avenue by which this primordial, innate desire may be expressed to Him, and thus made provisions for it by issuing the sacrificial commandments. Indeed, it is a common position of many great scholars and thinkers that sacrifices of animal life were among the earliest and most profound expressions of the human desire to come as close as possible to God. Thus the Bible records the sacrifices of Cain, Abel, and Noah. It is evident that the Jewish concept of sacrifice as it existed in the Holy Temple is widely misunderstood. For this worship functioned on many levels: ethical, moral, philosophical, mystical…and most of all, in fulfillment of the word of God. For although the idea of the sacrifices may seem difficult for contemporary man to accept, it is the commandment of the Holy One.

Forgiveness of sins against God alone is obtained through repentance and confession of one’s sins in words before God Himself, and correcting one’s future conduct according to the God’s law. When one sins against a person (as by theft or injury), he must also do his best to make restitution to the person injured and gain his forgiveness, as well as repenting, confessing, and making amends in future conduct before God.  Many  may be surprised to learn that this will bring full atonement according to the Torah. (This is the main point of the Book of Jonah, of course; see Jonah 3,10, in particular).

When the Temple stands, some sins require offerings as explained, in addition to this repentance process, not instead of it; without this repentance process, offerings for sins are totally ineffective, and must be brought again when one has truly repented.

It is important to emphasize that according to the Torah, sacrifice was never the exclusive means of obtaining forgiveness and was not in and of itself sufficient to obtain forgiveness, and in certain circumstances was not even effective to obtain forgiveness.

The sacrifices are explained as the process which unites the Kohen (priest) performing the sacrifices with the divine world. The Hebrew term for sacrifice, korban, is comes from the root karev – to bring close, to unite. Sacrifices bring about the dynamic union of the divine powers called the Sefirot, and restores the soul of man and other created elements to their state as they were before the damages of the sin which is being atoned. For. The sacrifice joins the upper and lower worlds and brings together the believer and God Himself. The material nature of the sacrifice, the use and slaughter of “material” animals, brings atonement for material sins. Because the evil powers in man are embedded in his flesh and blood these evil powers drawn to man are transferred to his “sin offering” so the flesh and blood of the animal have to be sacrificed. By this these evil powers then leave the animal, and become nullified to the Divine light.  More than that, the sacrifice frees the spirit of the animal, enabling it to rise to its divine root; the animals are eminated from the “animals” described by Ezekiel in the throne-chariot, the Merkavah .

These days prayer and study of the laws of sacrifices has taken the place of sacrifices.  In accordance with the words of the Prophet Hosea, we offer instead of animals the offering of our lips (Hosea 14,3;).  While dedicating the Temple, King Solomon referred to the idea that prayer can be used to obtain forgiveness (I Kings 8,46-50).  Our prayer services are in many ways designed to parallel the sacrificial practices; for example, we have an extra service on shabbath to parallel the extra shabbath offering. All this was arranged for us by the Prophets as they foresaw the period of exile when we would not have animal sacrifices, and it was they who organized the order of prayer we have today.

Let it be known that before offering a sacrifice, Aharon and his sons washed their hands, as it states in the Torah; “Aharon and his sons will wash their hands and their feet from it (the Laver) upon entering the Tent of Meeting; they will wash with water so that they do not die; or whenever they approach the Altar to serve, to burn a fire offering to God, they will wash their hands and feet so that they do not die” (Ex. 30: 19-20). The phrase “so that they do not die” is repeated here. This emphasizes the importance of this washing, and we know that when the Temple is not standing, one’s table serves in place of the altar. For this reason we ritually wash before meals.

In Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Shimon teaches that three who eat together and do not speak words of Torah are as if they ate sacrifices to the dead. Indeed, their tables are full of filthy vomit when there is no mention of God. But when words of Torah are spoken it is as if they ate from the table of God.

The Maor Eniyim teaches that Fire is Binna (Divine understanding).  The Torah is spice against the “Yetzer Hora” (evil inclination). Through being occupied in Torah, which is called Bina. Bina is the source of Givurot (restriction, discipline). “Dinim” (judgments) are only sweetened in their source being in the Torah. This is by including the left in the right, making טוב (good). This is as Avraham’s sacrifice at “Batara”. Which is the future slaughtering of the “Yetzer Hora”. Separating it from us. By cleaving oneself in the light of the Eyn Sof (infinite Godliness) that flows from the letters of the Torah. There goes in judgments to their source. They are corrected in their source in the Torah.

The Sulam on Zohar parsha Pinchas teaches Like a sacrifice, Torah is offered as a gift to God. He is at his own table. At His table are all manner of food including fine flour, average flour and waste matter. Hashem distributes this food to those who are sitting there joining Him there in the banquet. The bread the king eats is made of fine flour. This He gives to those He loves, those near to Him. This food is from the side of the “Tree of Life”.

Rabbi Yose teaches concerning the twelve properties of the Torah that inequity can be purged even without sacrifices of flesh but with words of Torah. Even if punishment is already decreed against one, it can be annulled. Words of Torah can purify those who are unclean. He who studies Torah is first purified and then sanctified.

In the writings of the Kabbalists, we find a remarkable description of how the universe will look in the future, a world vastly changed from our current reality. All aspects of the universe will then be elevated. Even the animals in that future era will be different; they will rise to the level of people nowadays [Sha’ar Hamitzvot of the Ari z”l]. Obviously, no sacrifice could be offered from such humanlike animals. At that time, there will no longer be strife and conflict between the species. Human beings will no longer need to take the lives of animals for their physical, moral, and spiritual needs.

It is about this distant time that the Midrash states  “All sacrifices will be annulled in the future”  [Tanchuma Emor 19, Vayikra Rabbah 9:7]. The prophet Malachi similarly foretold of a lofty world in which the Temple service will only consist of grain offerings, in place of the animal sacrifices of old:

“Then the grain-offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to God as in the days of old, and as in ancient years.”  [Malachi 3:4]



The Bennington Triangle
March 18, 2010, 9:06 am
Filed under: mysterious phenomenon

There are places in the world where, for one reason or another, people just seem to disappear without a trace. The Bermuda Triangle is probably the best example of this. This stretch of sea, running from Bermuda to Miami to Puerto Rico, has claimed countless numbers of planes and ships over the years. Just off the coast of Japan on the other side of the world, the Dragon’s Triangle has also swallowed up its share of ships and planes, including, oddly enough, a Japanese research vessel that was sent to investigate other disappearances. A little closer to home, we have what has come to be called the “Bennington Triangle”.

November 12, 1945. Seventy-four year old Middie Rivers was an experienced hunting and fishing guide who was familiar with the area and knew how to “get along” in the wild. The day of November 12th, he was leading a group of four hunters up into the mountains. On the way back to camp, he got a little ahead of the hunters and vanished. An extensive search of the area by police and volunteers turned up just a single clue: a bullet resting beside a stream bed, leading investigators to speculate that he had knelt down there to take a drink, and the bullet had fallen out of his pocket. No other trace of him has ever been found.

Many unexplained events have baffled and mystified people throughout Vermont history, but none were as startling and publicized as the mysterious disappearances of ten people in the Glastenbury Wilderness.

In his book, “Green Mountain Ghosts, Ghouls, and Unsolved Mysteries”, Joe Citro calls the area in Bennington near Glastenbury mountain, the “Bennington Triangle”. It is similar to the more famous Bermuda Triangle in that it has been a hotspot for UFO activity, strange lights, sounds, odors, specters, mysterious creatures…and more startling, human disappearances.

American natives shunned the place, using it only for a burial ground. They believed the land to be cursed because all four winds met in that spot. There is also mention in native American folklore of an enchanted stone which is said to swallow anything that steps on it. Since then, numerous people have died mysteriously, suffered many hardships, and have gone insane.

In 1892, a millworker named Henry MacDowell killed his co-worker, Jim Crowley in a drunken fight. He was sentenced to life in an asylum, but escaped, never to be seen again.

On November 12, 1945, 75 year old Middie Rivers led four hunters onto the mountain on an unseasonably mild day. When the group was returning to camp, near Long Trail Road and Route 9, Rivers got ahead of the others and was never seen again. Police and many volunteers searched the area for the experienced woodsman but never found him. The only clue was a single bullet which his friends speculated fell out of his belt when Rivers took a drink of water.

A little over a year later, on December 1, 1946, an 18 year old sophomore at Bennington College vanished without a trace. Paula Welden hitched a ride to the Long Trail to take a day hike. Several witnesses confirmed seeing her on the trail after she hitched the ride, but when she did not return to school, a search team scoured the area. Despite a 5,000 dollar reward and help from the FBI, Paula Welden was never seen again. Two unconfirmed rumors circulate about her whereabouts. Some say Paula arranged her disappearance and moved to Canada with a lover; while others speculate she still lives a reclusive life on the mountain.

Three years to the day after Paula Welden’s disappearance, a James E. Tetford vanished. Tetford boarded a bus in St. Albans after visiting relatives. He never got off the bus at the Bennington Soldiers Home where he lived. His presence on the bus was confirmed at the stop before Bennington, buthe was not on the bus when it reached Bennington. None of the passengers, including the driver, had any idea what happened to him.

On October 12, 1950, 8-year old Paul Jepson became another victim of the Bennington “black hole”. His parents were caretakers for a dump. His mother was tending to some pigs, leaving Paul unattended for no more than an hour, only to find him gone…without a trace. According to Paul’s father, the boy had a strange “yen” to go into the mountains. Although Paul was wearing a red jacket, which would have made him more visible, intensive search parties found nothing. Blood hounds traced his scent to a highway and suddenly lost it, suggesting that Paul was picked up, or maybe vanished into thin air.

Two weeks later on October 28, Freida Langer was hiking with her cousin Herbert Elsner. After falling in a stream, Freida told her cousin to wait there while she ran a half mile back to camp to change clothes. When she didn’t return, Elsner went back to camp only to discover that she had never arrived, and nobody saw her leave the woods. Freida knew the area well and was unlikely to get lost, especially since it was still broad daylight. Search teams scoured the area on foot, by plane, and hellicopter finding nothing. Another search on November 5 and 7 turned up nothing at all. And on November 11 and 12, 300 military, police, firemen, sportsmen, and volunteers also came up emptyhanded. On May 12, 1951, Langer’s body did turn up, in an open area where she would not have been missed during the search. The cause of death was unknown.

A 13-year-old boy named Melvin Hills disappeared in the Bennington area around October 11, 1942, and in 1949, three hunters mysteriously vanished as well in the Glastenbury area.

The disappearences stopped after 1950, and to my knowlege, no one else has vanished in the area since then.

Many theories attempt to explain the strange phenomenon of the Glastenbury area vanishings. One paranormal-based theory speculates that their are interdimensional horizons in which people step into, leaving this world. Some speculated that they were abducted by aliens, while others suggest the Bennington Monster (a large creature said to lurk in the woods of the area) carried them off.

In the early 19th century, a stagecoach full of passengers was traveling by Glastenbury Mountain near Bennington, Vermont. The night was rainy, and the horses were skittish – perhaps more skittish than they normally would be in bad weather. Eventually, the driver brought the carriage to a halt and dismounted because the road had been washed out.

And that’s when he noticed the enormous footprints in the muddy road. Were they human? Were they animal? He couldn’t tell. The other passengers left the coach to look at the prints, but no one could ascertain what type of creature made such unusual tracks.

And that’s when some thing, unseen in the dark, attacked the coach and knocked it over with several blows. The passengers saw a pair of eyes staring at them from the dark, and then heard something roar and rush off into the darkness.

They had an encounter with the Bennington Monster.

The Bennington Monster has been seen many times since then. For example, in September 2003, Ray Dufresne of Winooski Vermont was driving by Glastenbury Mountain when he saw a large “black thing” by the road. It was well over six feet tall, and was “hairy from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet.”

Another, more logical theory is that perhaps a serial killer was responsible. However, their was no pattern to the killings. Serial killers usually target a certain type of individual, and the Bennington victims ranged in sex and age. The only pattern was that all disappearences occured during the months of October, November, and December. And one final theory, but no closer to an answer, is that perhaps the victims fell into abandoned wells.

Despite these many disappearances, many people including camp owner Larry Lauzon, who appeared in a Burlington Free Press article, says he spends much time in the Glastenbury wilderness and has yet to encounter anything strange. Whatever happened to the 9 or 10 people who vanished in the wilderness is still a mystery.

More info at

http://www.xprojectmagazine.com/archives/paranormal/benningtontriangle.html

http://www.virtualvermonter.com/almanac/benntriangle.htm