For thousands of years, the secret was held in ancient artifacts and carvings around the world and encoded in the cells of all life. Now we are rising up from that sleep, shaking old, stale beliefs from our minds and glimpsing the golden light of this new dawn streaming through the windows of perception. This book is one of those windows.
Invaluable information you may not find elsewhere. As an engineer and a student of Spirit, I believe Drunvalo and Thoth are right on the money. If you have not extensively studied related spiritual subjects that he often touches on briefly, you will be overloaded and dismiss the information as crazy, as I see many have. Drunvalo is not crazy. It is a fact that when one reaches a certain spiritual level, they will begin to communicate with entities from another dimension. Thoth, an immortal entity, downloads to us through Drunvalo. I believe the information is of the light, selfless and pure. These are the secrets of life. Believe it or not, "it is only light".
The Ancient Secret Of The Flower Of Life Volume 1 Pdf Free Download
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Once, all life in the universe knew the Flower of Life as the creation pattern - the geometrical design leading us into and out of physical existence. Then from a very high state of consciousness we fell in darkness and forgot who we were. For thousands of years the secret was held in ancient artifacts and carvings around the world, and encoded in the cells of all life.
Not only is Drunvalo's mind exceptional, but his heart, his warm personality, his love for all life everywhere, is immediately understood and felt by anyone who meets him. For some time now he has been bringing his vast vision to the world through the Flower of Life program and the Mer-Ka-Ba meditation. This teaching encompasses every area of human understanding, explores the development of mankind from ancient civilizations to the present time and offers clarity regarding the world's state of consciousness and what is needed for a smooth and easy transition into the 21st century.
The Agora Bone Well presents the study of more than 460 humans (mostly newborn infants) and 150 dogs, along with the artifacts deposited in a well near the Athenian Agora. Dorothy B. Thompson excavated the well more than 80 years ago. It has remained largely forgotten, except for an occasional suggestion that its assemblage represented plague, human sacrifice, or large-scale infanticide. The nuanced analysis of the evidence from this cold case tells a heartbreaking tale of all-too-ordinary life and death in ancient Greece.
All the readings in our first chapter explore this ancient and continuing dilemma. Our first reading, however, perhaps captures it best. Nathaniel Hawthorne's great short story "The Birth-mark" is the tale of an otherwise perfectly beautiful woman with a birthmark on her left cheek, "the fatal flaw of humanity which nature in one shape or another stamps ineffaceably on all her productions." This marked woman is married to an idealistic scientist who seeks to remove her blemish, only to discover that it is her "birthmark of mortality" and that removing it removes her from life itself.
The mind is in a sad note, when Sleep, the all-involving, cannot confine her spectres within the dim region of her sway, but suffers them to break forth, affrighting this actual life with secrets that perchance belong to a deeper one. Aylmer now remembered his dream. He had fancied himself, with his servant Aminadab, attempting an operation for the removal of the birth-mark. But the deeper went the knife, the deeper sank the Hand, until at length its tiny grasp appeared to have caught hold of Georgiana's heart; whence, however, her husband was inexorably resolved to cut or wrench it away.
In order to soothe Georgiana, and, as it were, to release her mind from the burthen of actual things, Aylmer now put in practice some of the light and playful secrets, which science had taught him among its profounder lore. Airy figures, absolutely bodiless ideas, and forms of unsubstantial beauty, came and danced before her, imprinting their momentary footsteps on beams of light. Though she had some indistinct idea of the method of these optical phenomena, still the illusion was almost perfect enough to warrant the belief, that her husband possessed sway over the spiritual world. Then again, when she felt a wish to look forth from her seclusion, immediately, as if her thoughts were answered, the procession of external existence flitted across a screen. The scenery and the figures of actual life were perfectly represented, but with that bewitching, yet indescribable difference, which always makes a picture, an image, or a shadow, so much more attractive than the original. When wearied of this, Aylmer bade her cast her eyes upon a vessel, containing a quantity of earth. She did so, with little interest at first, but was soon startled, to perceive the germ of a plant, shooting upward from the soil. Then came the slender stalk-the leaves gradually unfolded themselves-and amid them was a perfect and lovely flower.
But, to Georgiana, the most engrossing volume was a large folio from her husband's own hand, in which he had recorded every experiment of his scientific career, with its original aim, the methods adopted for its development, and its final success or failure, with the circumstances to which either event was attributable. The book, in truth, was both the history and emblem of his ardent, ambitious, imaginative, yet practical and laborious, life. He handled physical details, as if there were nothing beyond them; yet spiritualized them all, and redeemed himself from materialism, by his strong and eager aspiration towards the infinite. In his grasp, the veriest clod of earth assumed a soul. Georgiana, as she read, reverenced Aylmer, and loved him more profoundly than ever, but with a less entire dependence on his judgment than heretofore. Much as he had accomplished, she could not but observe that his most splendid successes were almost invariably failures, if compared with the ideal at which he aimed. His brightest diamonds were the merest pebbles, and felt to be so by himself, in comparison with the inestimable gems which lay hidden beyond his reach. The volume, rich with achievements that had won renown for its author, was yet as melancholy a record as ever mortal hand had penned. It was the sad confession, and continual exemplification, of the short-comings of the composite man-the spirit burthened with clay and working in matter-and of the despair that assails the higher nature, at finding itself so miserably thwarted by the earthly part. Perhaps every man of genius, in whatever sphere, might recognize the image of his own experience in Aylmer's journal. ff782bc1db
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