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From “Tales of Hyperborea” By Sydney C Light

THE SHINING HANDS

“This way,” Zhen darted ahead of Ling, opening a padlock with a key attached to a stretchy, plastic coil necklace. She pulled back her hood, revealing a cartoonish mop of pink and black hair surrounding a sullen, childlike face. Zhen’s mouth was frozen downward as if she had never known how to smile. “It’s just down here,” she said glancing back as Ling followed her along an industrial cement walkway lit with droning fluorescent bulbs. It smelled of disinfectant poured over sewage. Zhen unlocked a battered blue door and they entered a dark one-room apartment that she shared with her husband, two children, and father. “I sent my kids and husband to ma ma’s,” she said, referring to her husband’s mother, “so no distraction.”

“Over here,” Zhen guided her to a low cot in a corner. As Ling’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she made out what appeared to be a living, human skeleton in the half-light. The man’s chest moved up and down in shallow, difficult breaths. Ling observed for several moments without speaking.

“This is my father,” Zhen said. “No one else will help us. People have spoken about what you can do. The Chu family in Old Town told us about —”

“Is there something I can sit on?” Ling cut her off, not wanting any talk about the resurrection of the Chu’s little boy. The woman’s anguished face beseeched Ling, not for explanation, but for hope. Ling softened, “I’ll need to sit close.” A small, three-legged stool was fetched. Ling took off her jacket, laying it to the side and pulled the stool close to the cot.

“Where is the wound?” Ling asked, rolling back her sleeves. Zhen tapped her own chest with her fingertips.

With the same sure, expedient hands that made pearl necklaces ten hours a day, Ling neatly folded the top of the blanket down to reveal a festering gash across the top of the man’s torso. The stench of rotting flesh met her nostrils, but she did not recoil. He stared up at her, sunken eyes full of fear.

Moonlight shone through the open window, resting in a line along his neck like a silvery noose, but nothing could choke the remorse that filled the room. He could no longer work for his family. He had become a liability.

“How did this happen?” Ling asked.

“Haiwan Bridge,” the man rasped, “cable snapped.” The city was building the longest bridge in the world over water. It was Qingdoa’s most ambitious building project ever. Thousands had found employment. Ling often heard government officials proclaiming over loudspeakers that this project was an example of the greatness of Chinese workers, and the ingenuity of the country’s engineers.

“Has the company doctor seen you?” Ling asked.

“They gave him pain pills and sent him home,” Zhen said.

“They said don’t come back unless okay,” the man wheezed, laboring to get the words out. He wasn’t okay. They all knew that. In addition to the gash and three broken ribs, he had fallen 100 feet after the cable hit him, crushing his hip. His lungs were filled with mucus, and he could not eat. He needed someone with him 24 hours a day, but everyone in the household had to work.

“He was just a day laborer,” Zhen said. “He had no contract. The pills are all gone, they won’t give us more.”

Ling took his hand and pulled it close. His skin was the texture of a dried animal pelt, the veins like rivers in a drought. His thin fingers curled around her hand. The nails were yellowed and long. The man’s hand reminded Ling of her mother’s lotus feet, hanging onto the body, broken and useless. Tears welled up in his rheumy eyes. “Mhgòi—kill me,” he sobbed, but even his dry tears could not flow.

“I can’t do that,” Ling said.

“I am going to die anyway,” he said with the last bit of purpose left inside of him. “My family,” he glanced at his daughter, “are too afraid to do it.”

He turned onto his side with great effort and stared directly into Ling’s eyes. “I beg you, Sweet Mother, Quan Yin, Goddess of Mercy, daughter of Xi Wangmu—set me free.” His eyes brightened, like pebbles in a stream catching bits of light through leaves. He is feverish, and thinks I am the Goddess, she thought.

The flashes of light began again, and a simultaneous buzzing drown out all other sound. Ling’s head throbbed. Not now! I have to figure out what to do. The Shifu had called this a ‘gift’ but it seemed more like a curse. She had no control over any of it; the abilities came and went like whims. She wasn’t even sure how she had pulled the Chu’s son back from death. It had all come to her in the moment. I am like a bird that doesn’t remember how to fly. Ling clamped her eyes shut. The heavy burden of another’s life was in her hands, and she had no idea what to do.

When she opened her eyes, she had entered the in-between place again. Untethered by time and space, The Watchers came here to speak to one another. Zhen and her father were frozen in their positions, a still life tableau of wretchedness. The dismal apartment in Qingdoa receded, until it was nothing more than a blue dot. All around Ling was empty twilight, except for a vast, gossamer membrane that spread across all of space, dividing one nothingness from another. Made up of millions of interlocking dodecahedrons, each translucent segment of the screen was no bigger than her hand. Each was in turn was etched in a pattern of overlaid circles that resembled a flower. Caught between worlds again, Ling did not panic this time. She could only wait and watch.

Slowly, a scene materialized on the other side of the divide. An older woman appeared who looked to be from another time. The woman’s pale skin glowed in the flickering light of the cooking fire. She wore a long, linen robe, cinched in the middle with a woven belt, and stood stirring a large, steaming metal pot with both hands on a ladle. The small room had earthen walls, and Ling could see part of a thatched ceiling above. She watched transfixed as the pale woman turned away from her task, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked around the room expectantly as if hearing something then turned and looked directly at Ling. Her large, slate-colored eyes were unveering. “I can’t quite hear you,” she said, “but I know you’re there.”

“Who are you?” Ling asked, half out loud.

“You want to know what’s happening?” The woman said. “That’s understandable.”

“Yes,” whispered Ling.

“It’s a spiral—a loop,” said the pale woman, making a circular gesture with one hand in the air, her voice only intermittently audible.

“What is?” Ling said.

“— time — structure — events the same, circumstance — different —what is circular is eternal. Do you understand?” The woman’s words came through in bursts, like a radio with bad reception. Ling struggled to make out her meaning. The language was unfamiliar but somehow understandable.

“I can’t quite hear what —”

“Not with your ears,” the woman said, leaning forward. “Listen with this.” She tapped between her eyebrows. “Do you remember your vows?”

“No,” Ling said. “What vows?”

“Sworn duty to return? Give aid and comfort? The man wants release, help him.” The woman’s face rippled as if it was on the surface of water.

“He wants me to end his life,” Ling said. I don’t know how—or even if I should.”

“There is no ‘should’ with suffering. You do what you must and you do it quickly.”

“How?”

“Use the shining hands,” the woman said as her face began to disappear beneath a watery substance. “You know how, Ling! Try to remember. It’s all in your —” The woman and her earthen room were suddenly gone.

“My what?”

The old man coughed violently and Ling was hurled back into the apartment in Qingdao, where no time had passed. Sworn duty, vows. What did she mean? Ling squeezed the man’s hand. “What is your name?” She said, searching his face.

“Yao Bing.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.” His cracked lips curved into a smile.

“In the name of the Goddess Quan Yin,” the words came haltingly as if someone else were speaking through her, “and in the name of the Great Western Mother Xi Wangmu. Please help Yao Bing— please goddess, I ask you to take Yao Bing home.”

Ling’s heart pounded. The details of the room became hazy around her, but her vision suddenly sharpened. She could now see beneath the surface of Yao Bing’s skin, all the way into his internal tissue and organs. His blood pulsed like sludge through a narrow pipe, and his lungs were half flooded. A hazy bluish spiral was coiled all around his swollen heart, resembling a python curling about its prey. She knew Yao Bing could linger like this for days or even a week, but it would be a slow death and the pain would become unbearable.

Focus, focus, tune out everything. Ling’s own hands had gone transparent. She could see gelatinous buttons of cartilage in her fingers, and bolts of light moving through her neural network. In moments, her hands were no longer simply transparent, they had become pure light. The shining hands! As if directing a paint brush, Ling gently stroked her light fingers across Yao Bing’s face. He stared at her expectantly, blinking once. When she was sure he would not feel any pain, she plunged the gossamer hands inside his stomach. He twitched once, but lay still.

Use your mind to steer your life, the Shifu had once told her.You must learn to direct your thoughts. At first, the spectral fingers wobbled, breaking up like glimmering metallic shards as she dragged them through his body into his chest. If even a shred of doubt entered her mind, the hands disintegrated and could not do their work. I can do this, she told herself. I have done this before.

Ling managed to steady her fingers and cup the man’s heart with her phosphorescent hands. It felt as if a huge moth beat its wings against the inside of her palms. “Let go, Yao Bing,” she whispered, “your work in this body is done. You are free.” Yao Bing groaned. Ling’s courage wavered. She bowed her head, please let me do this right. But she wasn’t even sure to whom she prayed.

“Yao Bing,” she said, “your earthly heart contains your highest essence, the part of you that is immortal. You are honored, loved, never forgotten. You will return again. Let go, be joyful!” Suddenly his heart palpitated even more violently, as if struggling to escape her hands. It took every ounce of her will to hold on. All at once, the heart was still.

The bluish, glowing snake coiled around his heart expanded for a moment and slipped off the motionless organ, hovering just above. Ling watched in astonishment as the coil pulsed, just as his physical heart had done. It still has life, she marveled, but had become some sort of rarified form of existence, beyond birth and death.

Ling was engulfed by a strange, fluxing joy. The blue swirl was imprinted with an intricate pattern, much like the membrane between worlds she had seen, but infinitely smaller, in exquisite detail. Woven into the living blue light was everything Yao Bing had ever seen, experienced, said or thought. Nothing was arbitrary, bad or good; all had been necessary and perfect. His death was due to a terrible random accident, yet was perfect. For all of time, Yao Bing would not be forgotten, because his blue coil would add itself to the greater story. Nothing is ever lost. Dragged here, filled with dread, by a woman from the factory she barely knew, the apartment, the circumstance, all of it seemed like a nightmare. Now, it was the most perfect thing she had ever witnessed.

After a moments hovering in Yao’s body, the blue spiral bolted from his chest and darted all around the room at dizzying speed. It whizzed past her head, careening into the wall like a giddy sparrow. At last, it extended into a tiny comet and blasted through the slats of an open vent on the ceiling. A residual pulsing incandescence lingered in the room, bathing even the chairs and ragged curtains in a dim, bluish halo.

Ling closed Yao’s eyes, and placed his hands atop one another on his heart. His body looked like a discarded cicada husk. It was just a shell really. She wondered if she would recognize him if she ever saw him again in another form.

Yao Bing’s daughter rushed over sobbing and embraced her father’s body. Ling quietly picked up her jacket and slipped out the door.

 

 

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Emperor Hongwu

In 589 AD the scholar-official (humorist?) Yan Zhitui (531–591) wrote:

Paper on which there are quotations or commentaries from the Five Classics or the names of sages, I dare not use for toilet purposes.

THROW AWAY MY TOILET PAPER? WHO WOULD DO SUCH A THING?

Just because we’ve all done things a certain way for a long time, doesn’t mean that’s the best choice today. Toilet paper hearkens back to a more rustic past when we would reach for the nearest pine cone or leaf. Millions of people are happily going paper-free with a healthier and environmentally safer alternative.

Deadly Dioxin

First, let’s take a closer look at what toilet paper is and what it does to your body and our ecosystem. The paper industry uses chlorine and chlorine dioxide to bleach everything from coffee filters to milk cartons, but toilet paper production uses more of these harmful chemicals than almost any other paper product. The manufacturing byproducts; dioxins, furans and polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), are among the most carcinogenic substances on earth. The manufacture of household paper products has flooded these toxic chemicals into our air and water. What many consumers don’t know is that these toxins are also absorbed through our skin. Even low levels of exposure can cause health problems including cancer, Endometriosis, hormone imbalances, immune system impairments, reduced fertility and birth defects.

Dioxins accumulate in our body overtime and cannot be excreted. The more you have in your liver, kidneys and fatty tissue, the more likely you are to become ill.

Consumers in the USA now spend more than $6 billion a year on toilet paper — more than any other nation in the world. That is trillions of tons of toxic, soggy paper going through our sewer systems, as well as the harmful manufacturing byproducts going into our ecosystems.

Add to this the insidious capacity of toilet paper to clog home sewer lines. Toilet paper, feminine products and “wet wipes” are responsible for almost all plumbing issues in single family homes and rental buildings!

THERE IS HOWEVER, A VERY SIMPLE, NATURAL AND EASY WAY TO STOP USING TOILET PAPER

Extremely Inexpensive and Easy To Install

Savior faire Euro cultures have used BIDETS for a long time. Made the butt of humor (sorry) in recent films like “Why Him”, BIDETS are having a sudden, aha moment here in the USA. No longer a separate unit that looks like a child’s potty next to the grown-up one, decent bidets are now inexpensive and easily to attach right to your toilet. The new bidets run the gamut from a simple (but effective) hose line from the back of the toilet with a spray nozzle, to more elaborate units with hot and cold water and many spray options. Or, you can invest in a Japanese, $10,000 élite TOTO Neorest 750H that self-cleans and has the most advanced remote control options for the cleaning wand. (IMO, the simple, hand held spray units are easiest and most sanitary because they spray down: just a thought).

The current trend away from paper is really a return to basics: PLAIN WATER! (Imagine never having a clogged sewer again, and contributing your care to the planet by massively lowering your carbon footprint!)

Moderate Price Bidet

Once you have used one of these devices, you will never want to go back to toilet paper.

Scratchy, toxic, wasteful paper will seem downright primitive. Not only will you be taking better care of yourself, your household plumbing will also benefit dramatically. Paper products account for almost all clogged drainage pipes. If all that wasn’t enough, the environmental cost of toxic toilet paper is huge. Why contribute to the destruction of our waterways?

Americans flush trillions of pounds of toxic paper and waste into sewers yearly!

A BRIEF HISTORY OF TOILET PAPER

Black and white scratchboard illustration of the inventing of paper by a Chinese man.

Toilet paper was first manufactured for the élite in China starting around the 4th century. Many people however, just used whatever was at hand, which, in this case, often included hand-painted scrolls.

In 589 AD the scholar-official (humorist?) Yan Zhitui (531–591) wrote:

“Paper on which there are quotations or commentaries from the Five Classics or the names of sages, I dare not use for toilet purposes.”

(How many works of art tragically went down the drain in this fashion!?)

China was also the first to mass-produce toilet paper in the 14th century. Rolls similar to what we use today were made mainly for the ruling classes. The Bureau of Supplies recorded that in one year, during the Hongwu Emperor’s reign, (1328 – 1398), his family required 15,000 sheets of specially made, perfumed paper for use in the palace privies. Each piece measured 2 by 3 feet.

Apparently the use of books was not uncommon in the West as well. Lord Chesterfield wrote to his son in 1747 about a man who employed…

A common edition of Horace, of which he tore off gradually a couple of pages, carried them with him to that necessary place, read them first, and then sent them down as a sacrifice to Cloacina; thus was so much time fairly gained.

Chugi Sticks

In India and parts of the Middle East, water and the left hand are traditional, (hence the custom of the left hand being “unclean”). In Japan, flat sticks, called chügi, were scraped from left to right over the soiled area. In ancient Rome, a sea sponge on a stick (called a ‘gompf stick’) was available to those who used the public toilets. Manners of the day considered it polite to quickly swish the sponge off in a bucket of salt water before the next person sat down. Wealthy Romans used wool and scented water. Ancient Greeks employed stones called ‘pessoi’ and pieces of clay.

Sand, grass and corn husks served the purpose for most of human history.

Joseph Gayetty, an inventor from Pennsylvania, was the first businessman to commercially produce toilet paper, bringing his aloe-infused, hemp paper to the market in the USA in 1857. Curiously prescient, he called his product “The Greatest Necessity Of The Age”. His advertising campaign warned against using printed material (like newspaper) because the ink was toxic!

An enterprising young man named Seth Wheeler from Upstate New York obtained the first US patents for toilet paper in 1883. The smooth, over-processed paper of today, requiring many manufacturing chemicals, took many decades to produce.

Which leads us to the paper and plastic clogged streams and oceans of today. Toilet paper has also begotten the phenomenon known as “fatbergs“, congealed mounds of toilet paper, wet-wipes, and cooking fat, sitting like massive artery clogs in our city sewers. In 2013, a “fatberg” weighing 17 tons was found under London Road at Thames water in London.

Let’s all do our part, and be cleaner and healthier as a result. Bidets are easy to install and can upgrade our lives and living spaces wonderfully.

LOVE TO ALL.

 

11175skullsThe film “Trace Amounts” begs the question; why is the preservative, Thimersol still used in our vaccines, despite being a known neurotoxin? If this scenario sounds strangely familiar, that is because another toxin, fluoride, has also been intentionally dispensed to our population under false pretenses for decades. Why is so much money and effort spent on the continuous mass distribution of harmful chemicals on a global scale?

Masses

Masses

In order to understand, we have to pull back and look at look at the bigger picture to see what might actually be going on here. With fluoride loaded water/toothpaste, and mercury laden vaccines, there is a vast delivery method in place to get specific chemicals into the bodies of every human being. These chemicals are being purposefully force-fed to our entire race! No small task with a global population of 7 billion and counting.

Would our government really spend millions of dollars to infuse the water supply with fluoride for the benefit of everyone’s teeth? Are they that magnanimous? The claim that fluoride fights cavities is false, yet to this day 99% of toothpaste brands still contain fluoride for no clear reason. (ref. Dr. Mercola’s article on fluoride.)

Mercury-Poisoning-and-Autism1

Autism = Mercury Poisoning

The frequency of autism has increased a thousand-fold since mercury preservatives were added to vaccines in the late 1980’s.  Autism is simply a blanket name inclusive of all the symptoms for mercury poisoning. In spite of the fact that both the CDC and FDA have known for decades that Thimersol is destructive to nerve tissue, this mercury preservative is still being used in vaccines. (ref. VaxTruth)

In the confused aftermath of 911, Eli Lilly had a rider tacked onto the emergency Homeland Security Bill giving them complete immunity from law suits pertaining to complications arising from the mercury content in vaccinations. Big Pharma knows mercury is harmful, yet they continue adding it to vaccines for children and adults in doses far exceeding toxic levels.

The ‘how’ is right there in front of us, in plain sight for anyone able or willing to break free from generations of mental conditioning to see. The real question is ‘why?’ Is it simply “the banality of evil”, to use Hanna Arendt’s phrase, or is the motivation purely monetary? Would it make sense as a means of population control?

pineal-soul

Pineal-Soul

My only hypothesis is that there is a deliberate attempt to mutate the human genome. Either mutate it, or retard its development in some way. Accumulated fluoride is known to calcify the pineal gland, hindering its function. The pineal gland is the endocrine secretory organ associated with the ajna chakra. The ajna has long been revered by the ancient Egyptians, and most Eastern traditions, as the third eye through which higher planes of existence are experienced. (ref. Fluoridealert.org.)

The tragic effects of mercury poisoning (a.k.a. autism) are well-known with today’s epidemic levels of occurrence, yet in spite of this, a vast amount of money is spent on delivery and PR to keep mercury and fluoride perpetually pumping into our population.

It gets even more weird when you look at how mercury reacts with fluorine. Unlike other metals, mercury is the only metal that will form a stable compound, Tetra-fluoride, when combined with 4 molecules of fluorine. This is significant because tetra-fluoride has the unusual property of being diamagnetic. In a nutshell that means it generates its own electromagnetic field that works in opposition to any externally applied EM field. Electromagnetic fields have been proven to interfere with the mechanisms of DNA repair and chromosomal replication.

Reminiscent of the way facts surrounding mercury and fluoride have been deliberately concealed, there is another concerted cover-up, related if only by the truth being obfuscated on a planetary scale for generations. This particular veil of secrecy concerns elongated skulls, remnants from a global race, almost always found in conjunction with ancient megalithic sites; huge stone structures built to a level of architectural perfection exceeding our ability to duplicate, even with today’s technology.

Egyptian "Long Skull"

Egyptian “Long Skull”

A significant number of the most ancient long skulls did not result from ‘boarding’,  a body modification practice of comparatively modern human cultures imitating an object of veneration. The long skulls I’m referring to have been found, among other places, at archeological sites in Peru (Nazca Lines and the Paracas peninsula), Egypt, and Malta. These skulls have only 2 skull plates, and a 30% greater brain volume capacity, than the smaller skulls of modern Homo Sapien Sapiens, comprised from a number of fused bone plates. Naturally occurring long skulls also lack the resulting flattened frontal area of the artificially deformed (boarded) skulls.

Why are these anomalous beings completely left out of any formal academic discussion, literally ignored by “experts” as if they had never been found. How does the academic archeological community, who tout every ancient bone fragment as the ‘missing link’ from Africa, fail to recognize these long skulls as a separate race of advanced hominids who walked the earth, at a time when ‘history’ would have us all using primitive tools as hunter gatherers?

Why go to such great lengths to hide the truth of our human heritage? Why go to such great lengths to introduce mercury and fluoride into the bodies of every human being? Who is undertaking these monumental tasks of suppression? Who has the resources to fund and coordinate global undertakings over many generations?

Atacama Humanoid~Skull is not result of artificial deformation

Atacama Humanoid~Skull is not result of artificial deformation

If you have any insights to add, we would love to hear from you.

Sources:

Strong evidence that mercury in vaccines leads to a host of neurological problems:

https://www.google.com/search?q=mercury+is+still+in+childhood+vaccines&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8#q=thimerosal+in+childhood+vaccines&revid=1022026059

Aluminum is also a toxic ingredient in vaccines: Please See~

http://lup.sagepub.com/content/21/2/223.short

http://www.prweb.com/releases/2012/1/prweb9146755.htm