I shuffled along, exhausted. The morning twilight was breaking over the seldom used trail I trod upon, the ghostly trail that wound down through the spaces between the shimmering forms of the trees.

My heart was on fire. It blazed in my breast. I could barely remember, as I realized I was cursed with thirst, what I had dreamed the night before. I dreamed I was transparent, and I could look through my own flesh, to my bones which were just points of dancing green, blue and white light.

I dreamed that I could take a different shape and run at amazing speed across the night of this land, each step unerring, avoiding any ensnaring object, a fierce joy of motion and breath.

Yet here I was, wide awake now, if tired. I was almost back to my tiny little place at the edge of the last of the natural land. I saw there was a piece of mail jammed into the door. I already knew what it was, already knew that I hated what was inside.

It was from my job, certainly not my career, certainly not what I wanted to spend my life upon. It was my job, with the contractor, with the government that had sent me to see the shrink in the first place. Was it a case of follow the money?

You might think, if you’re reading this that money is power. Nope, money is a leash, and it chains one to THEM…

We have determined that said individual

“Peter Wolfe”


After exhaustive testing and examination

Is recommended for continuing psychiatric analysis

And for immediate hospitalization.

I immediately ripped the document into very small pieces and tossed the pieces into the garbage where they belonged. When was it that Jung, protégé’ of Fraud lost his edge and became a voice for sellouts?

Best guess, pretty much just before WW2, when he found he could straddle the fence and play everyone like a badly tuned fiddle. Everyone thought his Wotan essay was a great esoteric concept, a proud stepping out from under the coat tails of his Jewish master, a seminal work signaling his rise to respectability to the pinnacle of orthodox western thought.

Ya think? Cuz I have a very different point of view. I think Jung was a Gnostic. A lot of Jews thought so too, and they hated him for it. Actually everybody pretty much hates Gnostics, probably because Gnostics point out things just through living that illustrate the spiritual bankruptcy of the children of Abraham. So Jung had his choice and he made it. No more Gnosis-except in little tiny ways like “active imagination”. Nope, it was Mr. Respectable now, complete with all the accolades.

Probably his funniest statement was in his essay on UFOs. Here he showed his deference to daddy Fraud by calling them giant metal flying penises. Watch out America! Lock up your daughters! Giant dicks in flight!

Yeah, everything was sex to Fraud. What a clueless moron. He was so over privileged he never realized that everything is really based on hunger-and food. So, these were the people that started the pseudo science that was supposed to “help” me. I could hardly wait.

I woke up suddenly. I didn’t know I had been dreaming. The worst thing about dreaming like a man is that you begin to believe it-terrible.

I picked up the big branch in my jaws. I was very strong and I liked that strength. I tossed the branch down on the fire and watched the flames climb into the sky. The world was an entire orchestra of tastes and scents. I knew, from the lingering aroma of wood on my teeth what the song of the wood was. Wood actually holds many things, entire worlds etched in the wood.

And something else is also in the wood…


It is the very first Rune, in any genuine Futhark, for thousands of years and more. It is the first Rune of the first family in any row as well. Some say in the forgotten times long ago it became the Rune of the domestic herd, the source for meat and milk and blood come what may in the darkest night, which after all is the oldest sense of wealth.

But I say nay. Fe’ is not about an abundance as a hedge against uncertainty. Nooo, Fe’ is about the first separation, the first change away from our way-to theirs.

What is wealth anyway, but a soil within which to grow every jealous, angry, vengeful act? Whilst mankind drives themselves insane over wealth and the control of wealth, over the drive to put others down and keep them there, the Wolf merely hunts, and lives, the standard of the wild lands, the despised.

In ancient times so long ago no one remembers, mankind’s’ gaze was far from happy. He had ridden the spark down the Rainbow Bridge from the sisters so far away. He stared at his woman and she stared back, as the hunger in their bellies made them wonder why they ever came to this blasted plain.

Our Golden eyes met their sky blue gaze, and we took pity upon their plight. We began by sharing some of our kills, and the men ate like greedy pups. Later we taught them the ways of those who they would hunt, and the secret to secure the kill. For such a long time, men remembered our gift.  They honoured the generosity of our spirits with their own. Fe’, wealth, then meant the divine power, the knowledge, understanding and energy to thrive upon the hunger plains. It was the sound, and the resonance, and the song of life living in its own accord.

We don’t remember exactly why this changed. Some were convinced it was the great cataclysm, the wrath of the stars upon this place. Others, who spent entire lives traversing the dream-time, were convinced it was due to inborn deficiency here, that this hunger place could never sustain, only run down to its lowest base form before failing all together. We replied by remembering our hero trail back to the sisters, but mankind remembers nothing. He is like a dumb beast that doesn’t know what to eat, which is why we had to help him. The mystery of survival we shared with them, but today we are hated and shot, driven from the soil we ran upon, for endless cycles before the coming of man.

We were ancient when their spark fell like a burning star to this earth. We did not need to change from the days when we dwelt within our own bright star. We had little trouble upon arriving here to this land of tearing hunger, because we could always kill to feed our need, and we were always very good at that.

The man behind the desk had even more papers for me. He had papers to read, that told me I had neither rights nor privileges, papers to sign, that meant I agreed, and papers to commit me to Sunnydale hospital.

“Why don’t you just fire me?”

He returned my gaze with mild distaste. He was dark, possibly from India, and he spoke with an accent.

“We cannot fire you, Mr. Wolfe, it’s in your contract”, he replied directly.

“But you can shuffle me off to the loony bin”, I observed.

“I assure you we can do much worse than that”, he leaned forward as if to emphasize his point.

I considered my options. My first instinct was simply to get up and leave, and so I did just that, pushing the chair back and standing up.

“You must sign the documents, Mr. Wolfe”, pleaded the insistent accented voice behind me.

I was already out the door when I distinctly heard him pick up the phone.

My old truck wasn’t up for a race, I knew that much. Looking into the mirror I could tell the driver of the late model car behind me was a male, big, and probably black. Even from this far away he exuded a willingness towards violence that was definite, easily readable. He stayed far enough away to not make the tail too obvious, but he was never out of sight for more than a few seconds at a time. I was completely certain his interest in me went beyond words.

My guess was he had already picked his method. For someone like me, already evaluated with “issues”, he would have a number of options to make it look like I off’ed myself. I noted that the sun was going down, a warm light playing upon the chemtrails in the sky. I let myself sink back into the seat, and headed for the forest where all of us had agreed to meet on the third evening, which was now.

The access road was open, despite being very late in the day. I drove past the fields to the last and worst maintained parking area in the woods proper. No one was parked here, so I chose a spot, climbed out, locked up, and went for a stroll. I was already in the trees when I heard the whine of the electric motor flood the parking area. My assassin had arrived.

It was my guess that he would be patient, but not too patient. If he had rushed right in he might have had me, but he killed the lights, shut it down, and climbed out deliberately. Obviously he figured there was little I could do. He would have been right, if it had just been about me, but it wasn’t, so I slid into the woods, expecting to pick up the hit man’s trail later, if he stayed in the forest.

Slipping through cross country was easy for me. I could smell the wet earth, and the faint scent of…Ack. Ack was the proverbial image of the dude who marched to his own drummer, not as an act of rebellion, but because his own quick intellect brought him there-to a place of trusting himself first and foremost. We exchanged greetings.

Out from the shadows slinked the graceful form of Doll. Doll was on the small side, but what she lacked in size she made up for in grit, on top of being drop dead gorgeous. Next to her was Kish, and Kish was intimidating in sheer muscular power and focused intent. Kish had the uncanny ability to literally disappear whenever he wanted to… It was cool everybody was good but-where was Amma?

Suddenly I was hit from behind and slammed to the ground. My attacker was all over me, quick as a snake, seizing one ear and then the other before biting on them.


“Did you miss me?” A familiar female voice demanded.

The attacks relented and I managed to get up, turning quickly to meet Amma’s gaze. We faced off like wrestlers, circling. I feinted, she half heartedly dodged, and I had her, rolling and laughing on the rich earth.

I don’t care what your idea of an alpha female might be, Amma topped it. She was blonde and powerful and moved with a deadly ease that was a sight to behold. Her eyes were as deep as a winter sunset, and nobody wanted to be around when she got mad.

She locked my gaze unblinkingly. “What did you find out?”

I filled them all in as quickly as I could. I explained that I had a lead on the place where the ancient trail still bisected this hunger plain, beyond the buzzlights of the mancity. My work with the guvcorp commandoes led me to believe they didn’t know about it. They were obsessed with all the death they were bringing-all of it that we were all smelling was very real, and it blinded them, made them drunk. Even though I had it zeroed down, everyone had to lay very low, probably find another hidey-hole. It was gonna be tough, but I knew it was close, and I would find it-.

“Something else is close”, said Ack.

“Assassin”, I replied. “I want you all out to zone B, I’m going to circle back and grab my truck.I’ll think of something along the way’.

“No”, said Amma.

There certainly are those who can move through the forest, but the big black assassin was not one of them. He had blundered off the trail in the ensuing gloom, snapping twigs and thumping along heavily. Kish melted off to the left flank, a disappearing ghost. Doll took the right, with Ack. Amma took up position where she had options open, and I moved to head him off.

Nightfall brought on our second sight, electric outlines and pools of light. We saw the colour of the assassin, with that internal light, shining from our own meridians, excellently bright, and we saw better than during the day.

A crash suddenly echoed through the timber, followed by another-and another. Deer leapt up to make their escape. The assassin had halted, a very large pistol in his huge hand. We all heard the click of a selector, and in a moment, a bright beam erupted from beneath the slide of the pistol, piercing the dark and picking out the bounding shapes of the fleeing deer.

From the left, Kish emerged sailing through the air, his terrible jaws removing the arm that held the gun in one swipe. Doll had sunk her canines into the other arm as Ack seized a leg. Amma had him by the back of the neck, and I leapt with everything I had onto his chest, my fangs ripping into his throat. My lips met Amma’s as we bit down, kissing as the assassin died.

“Lycanthropy is an acute mental illness.

It is characterized by a complete change in the patients’ perceptual field.

The patients’ belief system is profoundly altered.”

I was running. I was running to a hidden cave, deep in the forest, along Lightning Ridge. We called it that. The birds called it that, because during the tremendous thunderstorms that frequented this mountainous place, the crack of wild electricity would play all along the spine of the rocky edge.

I had forgotten this place. I had forgotten the Lightning Ones. I had forgotten its song…

“There is no cure for this mental illness.

Lycanthropy is an extremely rare condition.

My colleagues are both baffled and intrigued by the onset of it,

We recognize that the medications we recommend

Drugs we could prescribe

Have lasting, possibly permanent impact upon cognitive health.

Most common side effect, memory loss.”

From the shoulder of Lightning Ridge, I dropped into the divide, slowing to a trot. Lingering was the odor of Bear, and Deer, but not man. I knew the small draw where the runoff after the storms would collect and trickle, and followed it up. I was feeling excited, but also wary. I recalled the raised area just beneath the cliff. I slipped past a row of underbrush and wildflowers, and I saw them, nondescript openings in the deep crevasses of the cliff, and there before me, small and unassuming was the black mouth of the cave.

“Our unanimous recommendation for our patient

Mr. Peter Wolfe


Includes immediate hospitalization.

It is our professional opinion that the patient,

Mr. Peter Wolfe


Is quite capable of causing himself and others irreparable harm

Through the use of the most egregious forms of violence.”

YES! It was the cave I found in my memory, put there countless generations ago by the distant ancestors. I had visited it long ago, when I was young, when I beheld the Lightning Ones in vision. The cool air felt good against my face. I shook off a little, stretched, yawned and went in.  The passage narrowed quickly, giving to all appearances that it reduced to a tiny black slit. Yet there was a hidden place…I blinked at the tiny lights within the rock. I-I remember now, we called them the star rocks, and into the dark in their midst the cave suddenly expanded. There, in the dimmest of light lay the silent mirror of the pool. The water revealed a silent reflection of the star rocks.

The highway snaked along through the wooded hills, before bursting out into an opening of rolling fields and scattered rural housing. Out in the open the highway divided, two lanes for each direction, and a no man’s land between them of junk, garbage and extremely tough weeds.

I pushed the old truck up past the speed limit. It was a matter of will, and the power of my connection to the spirit world that kept the old vehicle together. Before I was on the hit list, my co-workers used to make fun of me for driving the “Grampa Car”, as they called it. I just smiled, never telling them that there were no guvcorp surveillance and kill switches in my vehicle. It wouldn’t have mattered if I did. The new breed of guvcorp drones actually thought such things were great.

Was I taking a chance, hitting the road like this? Probably. I wasn’t too worried about guvcorp finding the remains of the assassin, even if they did, they wouldn’t piece it all together before I had a chance to grab the others from zone B, and get to the cave, as long as I made good time.

In the bundle in between the seats sat the assassin’s gun. It was a nice choice, a 10mm SIG with a full sized silencer, underlug flashlight, and a few spare magazines, all topped off with nickel plated hollow point ammo. Expensive. Probably starting in the several thousands range. Seems I was more respected by my would-be killers than I thought.

I played gas station hop scotch, grabbing some quick eats along the way. My old truck wasn’t exactly easy on gas, and having to pull sustained above highway speeds made me pay more attention to the oil and coolant.

At my last stop I got a bone shivering premonition. Some might call it déjà vu. I knew now my bonus time was spent, and I was racing a lit fuse.

Zone B was less than 15 miles away, but I was getting extremely nervous. I didn’t like to be nervous, but the problem with being high strung was that it came with the territory. I knew I had to leave the highway, when a guvcorp convoy blew past me, lights flashing and sirens blazing. Between the cruisers were Game & Fish trucks, and between them were animal control vehicles, mobile patty wagons for four legged enemies-us.

The traffic began to thicken and slow. Before it came to a complete halt I had engaged the transfer case for 4WD high, and was off pavement, looking for a way. I drove for several miles, more by feeling than any sense. I read the terrain to estimate my closest undetected approach. I felt like biting the steering wheel, instead I parked in a field under some trees, probably a quarter mile from a lone rural road.

I locked up, but not before packing the 10mm, and making sure a round was perched in the chamber. I needed to find the creek, soon. All around me were helicopters, and flashing lights.

Hunkering down, I loped into a bank of even more trees, and found the creek there. I was estimating direction when I heard them, locals, crashing through the underbrush.

“I think they went thattaway Daddy!”

The little boy almost ran right into me. Behind him was, apparently Daddy, with a huge machete strapped to his waist, and a very large crossbow in his hands.

“You seen any wolfs, mister?” The little boy peered up at me unperturbed.

“Wolves?” I laughed. “Don’t you mean dogs?”

“They ain’t no dogs”, said Daddy, and we’re fixin to get ‘em before anyone else does.”

“Well, I might’ve seen something like big dogs running across the field,” I lied. “Sort of following the highway.”

Daddy eyed me. “An what are you doin here, mister?”

I looked him back straight in the eye, and this time told the truth. “I want to get a better look at what’s going on.”

Apparently satisfied, they set off in a direction away from me, and my truck. As bad as all this was, the confusion caused by the event just might help us in the end. I decided to dive deeper into the woods, it was convoluted, crazy. I was completely surrounded by activity as I came up upon a dilapidated slumping fence, the last rays of the sun arcing through.

I found them in a nearby hollow. They crowded around Amma. She was swaying. Her blonde proud head hung low as she drooled, her eyes coming and going from focus.

“They shot her with something” said Ack flatly. “She’s fighting it”.

Kish turned his attention away from Amma to focus on me. “Ack and I got past their shots.”

Ack came close, to look me in the eyes. His words were slow, measured.”They got Doll. Shot her too, with the poison.”

I nodded, breathing hard, working to hold it together.

“Kish”, I said, with more resolution than I felt. “Do you know which way they went?”

Kish nodded.

I went to Amma. She was fighting with everything she had. I could feel her fierce fire, her essence screaming, even as she swayed. I felt that she would win this fight, that nothing could hold her wild spirit in thrall.

“Ack, stick with Amma. She is going to beat this thing, but until she does, defend her with your life. You know she would do the same for you”.

Ack nodded.

“Kish, with me. We bring Doll back or die trying”.

In a moment we were loping through the forest. I was following Kish, and I suddenly, sickeningly realized that all the bends and twists in the creek had actually taken us closer to the highway, and captivity. The highway itself was maybe two, maybe three miles ahead. I knew if they had Doll, if they hadn’t killed her, then they would be carrying her out, probably in a group, definitely armed.

Somehow, in a world that never gave me the slightest break-ever-I got one.

There were only three.

The stretcher was set directly upon the ground. Doll lay helpless and naked upon it. The three seemed to be taking a breather. They were so completely fixated on Doll that they didn’t hear our approach, didn’t notice as we moved close and Kish disappeared.

Their radio crackled with some incoherent static filled hissing that might have been speech, but they ignored it. The tallest wore an outfit that included a gun. Staring at Doll he gripped a bandaged hand, the bandage was stained red.

The smallest was rat faced. He had an outfit like the other, no gun but a devious glint to his eyes. “She sure is a looker”, he breathed.

“Yep-”, grumbled the gun, “and I owe her one for the bite she gave me.”

“Told you to back off and let the shot work, but you didn’t”, observed the third, who had a long rifle slung on his back.

“Guess I didn’t believe such a pretty little thing would bite like that.”

“So, you guys saw it right”, continued rifle. “You saw that I shot a wolf, not a girl?”

“I dunno what I saw-“ said devious.

“Well I sure as Hell know!” Gun was reaching down for Doll with his good hand, which vanished in the jaws of Kish. I pointed the big Sig, and hot 10mm fire bored into him as he crumpled. I switched to rifle, and he fell like the first. Only devious was left, and I caught him behind the ear with one well placed shot.

When it was clear that the trio would be no more trouble, we switched our attention to Doll. They had bound up her limbs way too tight, and it was a struggle to free her, bur free her we did. I put my ear up to her nose, and I could detect shallow breath. She was alive!

Kish worked on her hands and feet, encouraging fresh blood to move past the marks of her bonds. I was peeling off my shirt to cover her. It hung below mid-thigh. I didn’t have a choice, with Kish as scout I had to carry her back to Amma and Ack.

Night had completely enveloped the land by the time I staggered into camp. Amma was pacing around restlessly, her eyes blazed with a light more fierce than I had ever seen in her, but she was back. Ack just stared at me with his golden eyes.

Time’s up.

I carried Doll with the desperate strength of the cornered. Her breathing grew deeper and stronger as we dodged patrols of disaffected locals armed with flashlights, and laid low as the endless stream of flashing lights roared across the roads.

The run to the truck was a blur. We ran away from the thumping roar of helicopters. There were shots fired, and shouts. I just ran, past the point where I could run no more I ran and I ran and I ran. I thought I could see a flash of light upon a windshield, but before I could look my legs were done and I fell. Doll must have rolled away, and as I tore for ragged breath Amma was in my face.

“You alive?”

I nodded, shaking and struggling to get to my hands and knees. “Check Doll’ was all I could get out.

Ack stood over me. “We have to go.”

I was struggling to my feet when I heard a voice I felt like I hadn’t heard in years.


It was Doll.


The others were around her now, with Wolf medicine. They collapsed upon her, breathing on her with their fierce joy. The energy swirled and as one they began to move in circles. Doll began to take little leaps. I retrieved my shirt, tucked it in past the 10mm, and regained some composure. I let the wolf medicine work, and just felt grateful that we were alive.

I dreamed the truck so hard that the cord that binds us pulled painfully. We got there, despite all, I didn’t hit the lights until we were well on our way, on a rural road that was taking us far, far away from zone B. I was about to relax when I heard Kish.


“Nothing”, Kish shot back.

“What, really?”



“I want a pillow”.

There was a cry of utter disbelief. The first to start snickering was Kish himself, which grew infectious. Pretty soon the entire truck was awash in the howls of wolf laughter.

The Golden eye of the Great Ancestor regarded me, the rest of his face outside of my view, so close was he. He was as real and as close as one of us, and as the vision dissipated I knew I was being watched, to discover if I was worthy. I took the examination unflinchingly. It was exactly what I would have done, had I wanted to know…

In the ancient times, forgotten by all save for us, Runes were never carved. Runes then were only sung, they were never things. The opening Rune was never possessive. Wealth itself was the dynamic exchange of sharing, of giving. When we gave to mankind we were following the ancient way. We saw that this act was making the connection between the sky plain and our world of hunger. That our strength and our skill brought us wealth, and it was possible to give because there was no lack. It was in the sky place where our golden giving breathed with the wind into song. The lesson of the first Rune, the Wolf Rune was the ascendency of this song, a dreaming into the hunger plain of that which only we could bring. We don’t remember when this world began to decay, some say it was the cataclysm, or just the deficiency, yet it was then that wealth came to be woven into things, and with that came jealousy, and lack, and chance.

We never understood why mankind forsook the golden giving. We could never grasp why the choice of things was so powerful with them. That is a story only they can tell, if they remember it at all.

It was in those forgotten times of our golden sharing that we taught mankind the mystery of the hunt, the eternal bond between the giving and the taking. Some of our clan and some of man’s sang the Runes so closely together that it became a wholly new song. They were driven by this fusion to do things no one has ever done before or since.

Our drive from the scene was evidence that higher forces were at play. The Great Ancestor was felt. The lights and the sirens all ignored us. We were waved through the roadblocks. Traffic flowed in that odd collective sense-a great pulsing hive mind of millions of undirected emotions and thoughts, invisible yet palpable, a million little receivers, all hurling down a paved surface at incredible speed.

I was ready-more than ready to exit the hypnosis of the highway as our exit came quickly up. Slowing down brought the distinct feeling of leaving one world of perception behind, to enter another.

Wolf sense made it a simple thing to find an out of the way place to park our doughty truck. Everyone piled out in a rush, grateful to be back upon the earth, yawning and stretching. A pack of killers who deeply loved each other, belying the riddle that life always turns one to a certain way. We were the force behind the motion of the universe. Through death we honour life.

The action, I told myself, was to shimmer in the very reality of the Rune. In loving life the sky plain was long ago filled with the song, and in our hearts, we would find that note once more. Once we breathed into that, the birthed form would just slip away.

I tossed the gun, my documents, my I.D.’s, and finally my clothes onto the floor of the truck. My boots went last, and my keys. I breathed in the delicious forest air, and felt myself rise into my natural state. It was always different, yet always familiar, that sense of falling away, almost like falling asleep to awaken anew, with incredible possibilities.

Mankind is slow without his machines. We require no machines for our speed. Gliding over the rippling earth, we move easily as living love, our fur becomes a sense organ, it keeps us in touch.

We arrived at the cave quickly. In single file we squeezed inside, the tiny lights shone in the stone, the starry rock. Emerging into the great room we ran around and took stock. The help of the Great Ancestors held, we were alone.

It took a little time to check the acoustics, for everyone to find the correct position, and sing their correct pitch. We began to focus, to feel for the dynamic as our voices rose, combining in pitch and frequency, and we could sense the ripple beginning to spread in the rock.

We danced into different positions, and the tension began to strengthen, and so we let the resonance loose once more, and the rock opened on the far side of the pool. Light poured in as we formed up together, and plunged head first into the pulsing wave.

We sang our song as our paws rippled the night, causing waves to wash over the distant stars, our breath visible within the deep cosmic weave, the song unrelenting and strong. Moving as one we passed into morning light, through a mighty stand of twisted Oaks onto a blonde plain, gently rolling off toward the sun.

Our song ended in a crystalline echoe, from the ancestor oaks to the deepest distance. There was no smoke in the air, no buzzlights or roads, no mancity or airborne waves.

An enormous weight lifted off of us, and we were suddenly so burden-free that we cried together. So we stretched our legs, danced and played, rolling on the succulent scents of the new earth, had we ever felt so good?

The targets dropped off our backs, and with them an incredible tension released. We couldn’t believe how easy it was to breathe.

Our very structures, muscles, bones and tendons shifted without the heavy burdens, and our appearances changed. We were free in a way we hadn’t known since we first explored and walked into the world of hunger in the ancient forgotten times.

With a new energy we remembered our first Rune Fe’, and we sang it into the sky plain, setting off amidst the solidified waves of the blonde plain, slipping past the berries and wildflowers, and the golden fingers of the sun sent us laughing as she rose higher on her arc. We felt the wild joy of the hunt, and our waiting prey sang back to us that the ancient exchange was ready once more.


  1. What is a dog

    Son has one as I pedal a bicycle 250 miles a week to let one out.

    Put in a cage to small for her

    Got out for ever tonight

    Understands cages

    Escape from any you put me in

    Finest dog I have ever ever seen

    • In the occult what are such animals called?

      Familiars I believe, like a dog and human bonded together? Like my new cat, bonded we are forever perhaps my last cat? She is a fine cat however, my last one, held court over all he saw and none failed to bow down before him, simply magnificent.
      I think her rule will be a multiple more successful then his, said this I am glad.

      • Nine,
        The familiar, fylgia, is a different, but related condition from what I write about here.
        I am actually writing about a race, Nine, and a unique origin that does not partake of the more commonly understood middle eastern derivations.
        There was an old story of a Northern Hunter who came upon a great beast, who when he looked upon it, had a human form. He could not tell if he beheld a man within a beast, or a beast that was the man. The mystery persisted long after they parted, to this very day.

  2. Mike whilst I got you, and thank you so much for answering me.

    When peace is restored a phone call can happen

    But it all started when love happened

    Since the great separation when sin entered

    Said This where two gather

    I Am

    • It all sounds like some childrens book, to describe love as a major force in the universe, probably because everyone confuses love with romance and infatuation. Yet actual love has a depth to it that is not easily measured, and love actually motivates, inspires actions that are transformative in the truest sense of the word.
      So yes, love.
      But let us not define love.
      Rather let love define itself.

  3. Nine,
    I appreciate your input here.
    One must understand that what was Jesus goes back to the dawn of time in Egypt, long before, aeons before the nascent abrahamics created their social engineering stories about him. This is absolute fact, not conjecture.
    In order to fashion Jesus as an incarnate man, they needed the life of a man, which they eventually found. From here, both Dionysus and Osiris were woven in and the exoteric Jesus was born. Exoteric means that which is visible, reachable, approachable by anyone, no particular special qualities required. It was the exoteric Jesus who became the symbol of those cultures that created him.
    While the psychologists of their day were buisy developing christianity, the aeons old Egyptian Jesus continued on. Unsurprisingly, due to sheer numbers and an unquenchable desire to make their creation the only reality, christianity genocided those who held to the original. Despite this, some of the structure, some of the ideation surrounding the orginal was adopted by the fashioners, mostly fragmented, devoid of understanding because there isn’t any in abrahamism.
    This is the reason for the confusion. This is why this shit doesn’t make any sense.
    Personally, any interest I might have had in Jesus has long been ironed out of me, because no headway can be made after thousands of years of a murderous, duplicitous, intentionally fictionalized bullshit. I’m actually tired of the whole fucking thing. I won’t be willingly discussing Jesus any longer.
    That said, there are other structures that follow a similar template to the Egyptian Jesus, and I have touched on them in this piece.
    The path has been intentionally obscured by evil fuckers who want power over YOU.
    So now it is time to remember others.
    When one door is closed, others are open.

    • I know this Jesus Mike, but alas as you are right, it used to be found in that old school Evangelical church usually in women, who ran the places.
      They refered to it as the indwelling Christ, melded with and changing the person from inside out then those changed people became a church and then an outreach to the wider world.
      That is all dead and gone now Mike.
      This is the apocholypse.
      Now we have that fake invented plastic Jesus that I refer to as jebus from the Homer Simpson movie.

      • I realize this may sound strange, but things actually do need to go this way. It is the reason why the in the story, the ancient ones who maintained their knowledge and connexion left this hunger plain behind.
        All this just has to play out now, and as I said to someone else, even though I doubt they understand, there are huge implications for man, as those who gifted man with the knowledge of survival have left him behind.

        • Mike, as they moved on, their teaching is clear, shouldn’t we also move on?
          That whole concept of I Am means I am I Am.
          Perhaps God is within, as the great hunger? As in the miracles of Him, created food to feed the masses.
          But now we have created endless money to buy food and all needs are met however, if we look at debt, chart it, one can see that the growth of debt and population, in graph form is one in the same.
          Look at the place like a farm, raising cattle based on bank loans, creating a perfect environment for the heard to grow, then the debt is cut off. What happens to the heard living off of said debt? They all die.
          This has what’s been done to humanity.
          Just what I see. But Spirit guides, supplies and provides for needs, said daily bread will be provided. It’s a beautiful way to live as what do I know?

    • Against my better judgement I put you up on VT. My last post was going viral, and I watched the hit counter get turned almost off when it reached nine hundred views, 150 views get subtracted right before my eyes and a relentless attack of hasbara trolls ensue. It’s really not worth having to monitor the comment section for the exposure but since this one’s not about Hitler maybe they will chill. Good luck and if you need anybody deleted and threatened just email me Mike.

      • Thanks, Jack.
        I can’t really say I blame you for your perspective.
        The last troll episode was over Steiner, who is seen as a godlike figure amongst the beaten down German people. No doubt he still believes Steiner will save him.
        We’ll see what happens with this one…

          • However, seen three women, married to one, that one got her sisters husband’s, those men bound to her but I am not as we live together united in a forever bond of peace between us.

      • Comments deleted when I got there.
        Why would anybody listen to me?
        What is God but first love for the other
        Because it was created
        Because wanted
        Then love came
        Peace followed
        Then joy
        Then self control
        And the wheel broken
        Said enemies created must be loved
        Love is a peculiar thing

        • Snail mode is correct HP, all Jack Heart posts are put in snail mode as soon as it appears they may go viral. And don’t forget VT uses Google we use Awstats which screen out robots and spiders, they even tell you how many you’ve had on there for the month. One robot or spider can result in thousands of false hits and page views. This month we’ve had 46 so far and I know where each one came from. At the end of the month, I’ll provide screen shots of everything that happened in May and June for you guys.

          • Well, it would be interesting to see the result of your intellectual fruits and shenanigans that are put in between.

            On Gab, I can’t join, of all groups the “Censorship Group” after I wrote my last article: Monster…

            It lasted long enough I even managed to push a few of your articles.

            There is a join button, but for me it does not work..”failed to join the group.

            I guess with writing is like with the music..the real verses are just for you.

            In the end, we all who are heavily censored are writing for ourselves, the best we can.

            I am more than aware the closer I get to the target there will be less views, fewer comments, and a less willing audience.

          • I am public enemy #1 HP, they cannot arrest me, and they cannot kill me, if you want to know what happened when they tried watch Legion when they arrest his sister. That was the 600 men dispatched from Gitmo sometime in late 2016. All they can do is contain me and when entities like yourself start showing up that gets harder and harder for them…

      • So far the Steiner troll is behaving himself, Jack, which is more than I can say for the assholes on Substack. Thanks again for putting it up there. Entire internet seems like enemy territory these days.

        • If you mean POC Mike, or POS as I call her that nasty Hasbara kike who needs her face kicked in, she is not allowed in my comment section, I see a comment by her I delete it, I don’t bother reading it it’s never anything good, just let me know and I will adopt the same policy for your posts.

          • She has an alter too; Edward Longshanks who likes to cut and paste Wikipedia nonsense to dispute posts but doesn’t really speak good English so is never on topic. In both personas she pretends she is a German man to cover the fact that her English is rudimentary at best. “Edward” is also banned. VT puts up with that shit because VT is getting money from Tel aviv. I don’t…

          • Yeah Jack, POC is the Steiner troll. They left a couple typically disrespectful and arrogant remarks after I answered the comments, but nothing like the usual.
            I’ll leave it up to you if you want to shit can them.

          • I deleted the last two, they had nothing to do with your post and everything to do with Jewish animosity towards Jung for supporting Hitler. Arrogant is not the word insolent is. Kings are arrogant Kikes that need a beating are insolent.

  4. Soul shuddering, Mike, thank you. I hope you obtain the wherewithal to come out with a hard copy tome. What a magnificent creature the Wolf is, totally Aryan. That’s why the scum in this zeitgeist despise them so and try to wipe them out. I’ve always loved them. There is no recorded instance of a Wolf ever attacking a human, except in self defense and when provoked. The magic of existence is always dragged down into the cesspit of base materialism and two dimensional, Hebraic rationalism. The Aryan intuitively and viscerally knows there are things that will forever be shrouded in mystery, beyond logical explanation and verbalization. Regarding the Tribesman Sigmund Fraud and his disgusting legacy, some years back at his retirement dinner speech, the head of the American Psychiatric Association admitted that the Manual of Mental Disorders, the Bible of Psychiatry, is based on nothing but hot air. He said there exists no objective, empirical proof that a single one of the hundreds of “Mental Disorders” in that book even exists. All hypothetical conjecture, kosher I might add. Psychiatry is just another sinister, Judaic racket. They are ubiquitous in this Kali Yuga. Post Ragnarok, they will be a hideous memory.

      • Thanks, Jack. It was excellent until near the end when they equated the extermination policies of psychiatry with that of the evil “Not-Sees”. Rarely is an opportunity lost to take a jab at them, always mendacious. It goes without saying what the Fuhrer thought of Psychiatry and its Talmudic implications.

        • Thank you for reading and commenting, HD.
          I don’t wish to cast shade any where, but I will say that some here do not have a history that involves the middle east at all. I’m not interested in the middle eastern lore, except peripherally. I’m not a follower of abrahamism, nor do I share in their destiny.
          There is a reason why the great deities in Egypt are depicted with animal heads, and it has nothing to do with Africanism.
          When it comes to psychology, its been about making advertising more powerful, visual media more entraining, torture more effective. We should be very glad that they, like all institutional thinkers are way off mark. As it is, they are close enough to clearly declare themselves enemies of all.

          • I concur, Mike. The Hyperborean destiny of Aryans is far removed from and antithetical to the Abrahamic mind control cults called religions.

          • Are not humans just a Spirit in a body? Perhaps shape shifting being a skill the old ones had? Every person is I Am to the shagrin of the abrahamic mindset that I Am is only the deamon entity.
            I Am and I Am are of course natural enemies.
            What your wonderful story was about.
            Well done.

          • Even me sitting here almost seventy, cast adrift with a money life line as they say shut up and die. Go away, nothing to say but I Am says otherwise.
            It’s not me with the problem but them.
            This story makes it crystal clear!

          • It could be argued about Jesus or the Christ being I Am no wonder that daemon possessed Hillman` s Greek Jesus was a homosexual pedophile because if there is an antichrist that certainly would be it.
            It’s actually in the Bible I Am is in everything and everyone as He said follow me, kingdom within and not of this earth.
            That is hated by the abrahamics and must at all cost be stamped out.
            Spirit led or daemon led your choice and everything around us serves the beast.