Wednesday, October 31, 2018


        As I was reading the Nag Hammadi Texts and Gospels, and
writing what came to me in the process... 
Living for months  in a hut atop a 150 foot cliff
overlooking 2 lakes in the Bay.

         The problem I was having on my own is this:
 I knew I hadn't written some of this  material. And I truly
believed it was the Lord of Hosts who was filling 
in the blanks when a text stumped me.
         Because that's how it happened... I'd follow
a text along until the text went into an
overly complicated doublethink... that no
one would be able to get through, or at least
that I couldn't.
          And I'd sit on the edge of the cliff,
my spine straight, and let my mind clear,
let the internal Eternal River Ganges 
wash all thoughts clean... I truly
became the empty vessel.
          Twenty or so minutes later (I had
no sense of time during moments like that)
I'd look at the text again... and as I
looked once more closely at the text
the clouds would open and the sun would blaze
down upon the pages and I'd start to write.
          When I felt the holy Presence,
I went back to work... and my hand flowed
and His Hand wrote... and some time
later I'd put the book down.
           I'd  return from the City of the ancient words,
the primordial  City which was becoming
the future  Holy City on a hill. The
two times merged into One Present time,
as they always do when one is deep
in meditation. 
           The ancient was redeemed by the new,
and the new was washed clean by these
ancient words of Truth.
           Ancient Jerusalem was becoming
New Jerusalem, and the bells were ringing
in the mind of God;  and some kind
of glory was taking place around me.
The sky opened and the angels were singing.
            There were times when I was
afraid to take my eyes from the page
of the book, and look around me. I was
afraid of what I would become.

        The blanks that He filled in were 
sometimes three pages long.  Once again I'll say it! 


        These days we  know that many writers have
had the experience of chanelling. This event
I was experiencing was somewhat similar. Except I
was chanelling  I AM THAT I AM
 Our Father Who Art In Heaven,
the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, the God of
Albion and the Americas, the Lord of the Meeting
Rivers, Yahweh, Jehovah, JAH, the Great One who
rules the clouds and who speaks to us with total
Knowledge and understanding.
        This One was who I was "chanelling"
kneeling half-naked on the granite of the Laurentian
Shield, getting cuts on my knees and hands, the
One who was speaking through me was 
THE ONE WHO IS CREATING US. There was no doubt
at all about that.
          The experience was too much for my young
mind and my unbalanced sense of self,
my grandiose self-esteem and my utter lack of

         It occurred to me as I grew older and
more balanced and mature: there are too many
"my" words in the above paragraph, and other
paragraphs like it.
         Whatever was going on, it had very little
to do with me. For I know what I am. I am an empty
vessel - who is highly trained in literature and law.
I am told the Japanese have a saying: 


          That's what I was: the perfect host, the empty
vessel,  the flute the wind could
 play a note through, the bell that was rung 
by the Lord of Hosts.

           And, of course, some days I was not.
When you see the text start to repeat itself
too much... when the words are repeated in a 
manic and obsessional way, that was me
           When the same point is made
three times over, that is what I wrote alone.
The record was on skip.
           I guess someday someone
is going to have to edit this  manuscript.
           If so. it is important that that person not be
a person from any particular sect - a person
with a religious chip on his or her
shoulder. Or, worse, an agent of the old
Empire church with a mission to
suppress - a mission to suppress the Truth 
and change it to  statements which are comfortable,
easily lucrative, and convenient. 

         We'll make sure that no such person edits
The Clifftop Writings.

(C)1973-2018 by W.G. Milne

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