Two days ago, August 11, 2010 was my 55th birthday. It was also the 11th anniversary of the Grand Cross alignment and solar eclipse of August 11, 1999, which occurrred on my 44th birthday. Now that a full solar cycle has passed, the meaning and import of the last 11 years will soon become evident. What will also become evident is the symbolic meaning of an astrological event merging the sun, the four fixed signs of the zodiac, the four elements, and a meteor shower (falling stars...).
The day before yesterday, on my birthday, I also published the first version of the print edition of Finishing the Mysteries of Gods and Symbols, the book that I have been writing for the last couple of years, and working towards throughout the entire last decade.
If you truly want to understand why all the ancient sources converge on this time as the focus of great change, which includes the end of certain ancient behaviors and the eventual enlightenment of humanity, then consider me a gift horse and the horse's mouth.
Find out why both Nostradamus and Revelation encode my August birthday, and its related symbolism, as a vital key to certain times and details crucial to what comes next. Humanity is at a crux and blindly teetering on the cliff's edge. We will either evolve beyond the current sad and sordid state of human affairs or it will all end horribly. Some think they will escape while letting others suffer. Sadly, that is not the way karma and the core rules and functionality of this universe work.
The symbolism of the number 13 is a pivotal piece of the puzzle to certain ancient mysteries. The USA began with 13 states, there are 13 levels to the unfinished pyramid on the Great Seal of the USA, the Vatican attempted and failed to stamp out the Templars on Friday the 13th. Then there is the ancient Egyptian parable of Isis and Osiris from which all of this symbolism about bad luck, unfinished endeavors, and great works flows. The symbolism of 13 holds the keys to the fate of the Vatican and the future of humanity.
Perhaps now is a good time for new insights to open more eyes before we reach the point of no return. Please accept my efforts in this spirit...
The following symbolic narrative was published in the back of my earlier book, Revelations from the Apocalypse in early 2006 and on my blog, It's Symbology Stupid on August 11, 2007. Now is the time for the details encoded by the symbology. To fully understand all of what it means (as well as similar ancient narratives), you'll need to read my books, Finishing the Mysteries of Gods and Symbols. You can download the E-Book for Free.
Those who hear the Teacher’s flame turn sharply to the perfect path, eating simply of the ancient sages’ dual stone. Tearful pit dwellers, shaken mightily by the light, ascend from the abyss before a seventeen-star-filled wind. Their once-bottomless graves, now cast within three bitter corners, cause the deaf and blind to swallow strength from shame. Walking skyward, their works without-hand, in the midst of sun-clothed snow-clouds, rains burning hail about the heads of unclean men, women, beasts, and creatures dwelling hungrily roundabout the Earth.
Dark and weighty folly sorely pains the tri-tongued captains, writhing within vestments marked by oil, wine, and earth fouled waters. Purple dragon-riders voicing foul spirits darkly, from atop scarlet-fleshed beasts, greatly inflamed the Lady’s ire. Seeing Her reigning First and Last, serpents’ tails burn up wrathfully, striking seven times among lowly heads and hills, wielding brimstone rods and reeds afire.
As tempests rage before balances false, lead-talent-filled ships cast out blinding dust, falling darkly weighted beneath burning waves of sailors’ feet. The First and the Last ascend thunderously above the lightning crossed eastern sky. Rudely awakened, enlightened multitudes force the sacred-pomp to drink of flaming wormwood cups, filled patiently by worn out saints, crying loudly after ages-old bitter tears and shed blood.
153 drunken fish, blinded seven ways by oil, strong wine, and unclean loaves were smoothed by Simon’s 21-rock-weighted triangular net, within Babel’s bottomless pit. Redeemed from strong delusion, they turn once-fouled eyes to the air, hearing lightning thunder seven times about hidden names from time eleven. Greatly inflamed, they justly trample dark oily rivers beneath brightly burning feet, gathering upon the hidden cloudy peak of ages to quake mightily before days end in the midst of roaring stars.
Clothed by seven eyes strengthened by seven horns, newly sighted seekers walk meekly within the midst of the perfect path’s hidden throne, hair purified seven ways by flame of fire. A bearded star roars so fiercely that the city upon seven lowly hills quakes grievously, wailing tearfully about shadowy serpentine dens and rocks. Scorched alive by stellar wind, they shamefully drink about double doubled horns afire, long hidden within the golden altar’s simple ark.
Sorely shaken heads of gold fall beneath ancient corner stones arising, justly numbered by reed, plummet, and eleven stars bowing roundabout the eleventh son. The ancient Lady’s seven pillars, hewn without hand, were long over-shadowed by scorpion-tailed red dragon’s feet of clay and iron. Shining fiercely above felled serpents’ heads, they thunder to life about the burning lake’s heated path, as seven stars strike pompous cities by three. Cast heavenward, a great eagle cries upon dual wings among creatures four and house of eight within raven’s song about the end of earth-bound days.
Hearing roaring harps trumpet their names, jubilant shofars sing mightily. Sounding sharp and strong roundabout the hidden throne, they gird the many-sighted Fire-Lord, smiting the darkly writhing harlot queen, who waxed rich, overly-proud, blind to sorrow, and drawing smoke about ages of oil, wine, shed blood, and tears. Though cast sacred by the unclean dead, its seven beastly heads fall forever beneath an ancient cloud-born stone afire. Gnawing tongues greatly pained by talent-weighted hail, wine-sodden iron feet of clay flee wailing before spark-filled tempests, poured-forth unmingled from the Lady of the Lake’s long-simmering cup of bitter promises. Finally freed of great folly from serpents’ reign, Earth, Water, Air and Fire shine roundabout the living fountain stone. Its pure waters aflame feed sun-lit paths as multitudes sing guileless about emerald times, strongly quenching thirsts for simple ways before peace sounds, forever and ever.
The above prophecy was preceeded by the details in the posting titled Say Woe, Woe, Woe to Serpents wings by 13 It is the second of three similar and related symbolic narratives that I have been publishing since December 2005.
Here is Wisdom!!