INTRODUCTION

(How The Quest Began)
I was born free. In a nature of intricate beauty. And dismaying upheavals. ¤ An unhurried life, vast fields, solitude, the warmth of the summer, the sun, the long winters of drifting snow and the aromas of the morning breakfast; these were the anchors of my days. My days of long, long ago. Our house had no television, no radio, no electricity and no phone; there was only nature folding and unfolding its forms one instant at a time. On days of sunshine, the morning light rose in waves of dew over the endless fields. On days of thunder and lightning, the sky and the earth filled the body with resonance, fragrances and much fear. And when the cacophony abated, the children went running barefoot in the warm rain and muddy puddles of water. Then the sun would dry the hay in the fields. And, oh - the scent. At nightfall, while my mother read the agricultural news of the times to my father, my eyes would drift with the droplets of light radiating from an old oil lamp. In winter, all was stillness and waves of drifting snow. Waves moving yet not moving.

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One day, it was time for school. One room. All grades. A young woman was doing her finest to inform her young pupils of letters, numbers and of the vast world, teeming with excitement, lying just behind the school’s front door. A world that needed to be discovered and studied. I, longing for days spent in the fields, would look up at the seasons streaming through the school’s high windows. ¤ On Sundays, the family attended church. In the house of prayers, somber voices insisted on the existence, in the universe and in our lives, of a “God”. But, I could never imagine “God”. I could never sense the presence of “God”. Then, I would look out the windows. I saw the fields. I saw the sun. I saw homes and people. I saw reflections of light in the windows of the cars in the parking lot. And, in the pews, I saw people drifting in and out of sleep. Then the altar boy would ring the little bell. The priest would raise the Eucharist, proclaiming wine and bread to be the body of “God”. Still, I could not feel the existence of a “God”. It disturbed me. It irritated me. It hurt me. It made me look. It made me study. It made me ask. It made me seek. I sought for a long time. I sought in books. I sought in people’s minds. I sought on my knees. I even looked into becoming a priest; so much I desired to find “God”. Finally, “God” moved in. And I forgot my name. ¤ I was spun into submission, awaiting death to fly to heaven. In “God” I had died. I had died to nature. I had died to my childhood. I had died to the world. I had died to my life. The “God” cocoon grew thicker and thicker. From within, so much

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dissonance. So many discordant feelings. I had acquired distaste for my own being. And the world had been made vile. ¤ Something was not right. Something was out of kilter in my soul. I wanted out. I wanted to appreciate nature, life and my own being. I longed to feel good again as the sun rose over the morning dew. I wished to be free. I began to fight back. I fought the hardening trance, the trance makers, and my reprogrammed will. As I began to question, I sensed being alone… an outcast. For a few years I drifted about the land. And read. And observed. And examined. And questioned. And studied. I was resolute in my quest. ¤ Serendipity works in mysterious ways. One day, as I was attending an evening class, a fellow student spoke of having just read a book. In it, the author ventured that, at one time in antiquity, “Celestial” beings of great powers had established domain on earth. These beings had had a hand in humanity’s creation, development and education. The book spoke of fantastic legends, puzzling writings and impossible megalithic constructions testing our explanations. And these challenging artefacts and stories were to be found, not only in the Middle East, but also, everywhere on earth. And in the midst of these vestiges, lingered the ever-persistent presence of extraordinary beings whom the people of old called: “gods”.

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The author revealed supporting evidence that these gods were not of ethereal essence but of corporeal substance and that they were the inspiration behind the ancient writings, including the Bible. The gods also traveled to the heavens, fought wars, impregnated the daughters of men (Genesis 1-3), cut and moved stones of incredible weight in the four corners of the earth. At first, I found the data to be disquieting, even amusing. “Celestial” travellers in ancient times! And my “God”: – one of them. A corporeal being. I was tempted to laugh my head off. But – an uneasy feeling came over me. What if there was something to these theories? What if what I had taken to be the truth was simply a misreading of the first pages of our human history book? What if the “God” whom I, intuitively, had so much trouble believing in, had simply been a god among many gods? A historical personage of flesh, blood and bones? Puzzled, I went out and purchased the book. My “God” cocoon was jolted to its core. ¤ I am profoundly grateful to Erich von Daniken, the author of Chariots of the gods? (Bantam Books, 1970). Daniken boldly pursued a subject with roadblocks stacked pyramid-high. If the gods (and goddesses) of old including the Lord God Yahweh were not ethereal entities but corporeal beings, then much of what I (and everybody else) took for “The Truth” needed to be re-evaluated. If “God” had been a corporeal being, not that much different from ourselves, and that heaven was but the sky above our head, then no one was up there. No one was minding the store. So – who and what were we? Who created us? What was

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our earthly purpose? The implications extended all the way to the roots of our existence. ¤ (A pause: – As our “spiritual” teachers are out of sync in their reading of history – in their (mis) understanding of the millennia old “Celestial” visit(s) and visitor(s) – it means that, philosophically, we are standing in a vacuum. Since the days of Chariots of the gods? much has been written. Much has been researched. Much has been examined. Stories. Legends. And megalithic stonework. And the facts point to the incontrovertible presence of “gods” in our midst at the dawn of human civilisation. Throughout this work, and in the epilogue, we will come across evidence describing a greatly different past than the one we have been made familiar with. ¤ In the early days of my quest, I faced two choices: Discredit the evidence as simply too disturbing, turn off the light and fall asleep for the rest of my life. Or, confront my hesitations and try to make sense of a problematic possibility. I chose to break out of my cocoon. ¤ And then, Serendipity, again. During a night shift, while I worked as a computer operator for a local retailer, and as the endless reports were being printed, I foraged through a box of assorted magazines and books lying on the floor of the computer room. I picked up a book that had been well read, considering the worn appearance

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of its cover and inside pages. The title was The Cipher of Genesis (Shamhbala Publications, Inc. 1972). The author: Carlos Suares. In this work, Carlos Suares subscribes to the idea that the Hebrew Qabala (Kabbala) is a “science” which maintains that various cosmic principles, forces, and powers were ciphered long ago into the Hebrew alphabet. Studying the words/letters of “Genesis” and other biblical stories, the author shows how the “forces of nature” act – one within the other – and with and against one another, in a way that opens up a mind to reflection, meditation and revelation. In the end, what was revealed is that by understanding nature’s “principles” we can formulate for ourselves a “natural” philosophy of existence. ¤ The past and the present were beginning to merge into something that could make sense. It was as if I had started my earthly journey in the soul of nature, and then had been swept away by powerful forces into a human-engineered dream/trance. The works of Eric Von Daniken and Carlos Suares provided me with a template to re-think a path to a meaningful existence. ¤ And, if and when the opportunity presented itself, I would extend a helping hand to kindred souls. ¤

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