Epsilon Rising

The night when the final touches of the Epsilon script were delivered so that it took its present form—in fact mere minutes after the final stroke; a dear friend rang to invite me to another friend’s gig.

He told me that he was in good company and that the music was ok. On my side I had the project Epsilon just finalized, so off I went.

It was not a quarter of an hour of floating in bliss between the loveliness of the women that surrounded us and the warmth of camaraderie, before this ugly, macho, overweight, complex-ridden yaya materialized out of nowhere and pulled a gun on me.

And would have had the chance to take the shot (for I was busy talking to one of the lovelies at the time), if he had not been repelled by the shield the Force had placed upon his path (in the form of two more friends I had shaken hands with a couple of minutes prior).

Should I have a gun pulled on me a couple of nights a week or a month—a year even, I would have called the incident coincident.

But I do not have a gun pulled on me that often. It happened though to so happen on the very night of the completion of the script.

It seems it’s up to YOU.

Don’t let the powers of darkness win.

Another question raised frequently is this. Why English?

If you want the answer ask yourself—whether you are in Athens or in Istanbul, in Amsterdam or Roma, in Sao Paolo, Mumbai, Tel Aviv, Shanghai or Nairobi, in Moskow or in Montreal; how would you all our message get, had it been in oh let’s say, Ellenic?

Could we just have given it you in the original of this planet’s alphabet and tell you, as the rabbis do to people who don’t read Hebrew, “Look at the letters. They will teach you.”?
Sure we could.
But what language should we have to use to let you know that you can just look and the letters will teach you?
The same those rabbis use of course, on their victims.

What do we call this Universal language that gets across the message?
English—or UniLingo.

There is no right or wrong.
There is only what is, and what’s to be done.

Those souls who feel maladjusted to this here sick society we live in are logically the healthy.
They are aware and tired.
And ready to take action.

As Henry Ford said, “It is well enough that people of the nation do not understand our banking and monetary system, for if they did, I believe there would be a revolution before tomorrow morning”.

We are here to make you understand.
And bring unto your lives this morning’s eve.

The little man’s favorite argument this always, tongue-tip-ready in your mouth.

I’m too little to count for anything against them.
They are too powerful, I’m too weak, it’s no use, no use…

And so it is that you have reached a point in the history of this here Universe unprecedented as far as this planet sustainability is concerned—the point of no return.

For this particular maniacal helplessness of your polluted mind it is that has contaminated Innocence, the purity of Nature on Earth.
And has allowed a pathetic, rachitic elite’s greed to run rampart; and consume all energy sources on Her surface and out of Her depths—all there is for consumption.

It is remarkable to observe how can the simplest of ideas transform radically the life/lives of the human/humans that it mightily might touch: an insight most self-evident to which theretofore their consciousness had not allowed a chance.

The shop-owner who buys his India-made Indian stuff from the friendly countryhood Indian-stuff-supplier for example.
He can deduct of course as that the latter’s costs—by virtue of all profit laws are necessarily lower than that the price he pays him; but still, not having been in India himself, he’d be at loss to even approstimate (sic) just by how much lower.

But then let’s say a traveller just happens to drop by, a traveller friendlily disposed towards the good shopkeeper, a traveller moreover that has lived most happily in India.
And lets him in on how much it is—the profit margin being the “it” and that so huge, the keeper’s head goes spinning; changing a 20 to 30 year-old most solid life-pattern.
For starting with basic research via internet into the differences between price here and price there, he will resolve and proced to take initiative and regular trips to India, and live (much more) happily ever after.

Yeah. That’s where and how is clearly enough and simply being shown how the simplestest of simplest of one’s discoveries (that Indian stuff for one’s own shop is cheapestly bought in India for instance don’t you know?!), given the chance will turn for good one’s own life around.

And that so far as not to touch upon other discoveries of, for example, continents—which had been there long before “discovered” they tell us, and suchlike things as gravity or R&D NA.

The ancient legend of the OakMen speaks of our Zeus father of Gods, his sacred Tree in the alcove of the Dodona Oracle, and the Secret its priests once read in the whisper of its leaves in the Wind.

Now ‘drus’ is the word for ‘oak-tree’ in Ellenic, as ‘Druidis’ is the word for ‘Druid’.
And the secret that survived the plague called Christianity—and the witchhunts that labored to obliterate it as it passed down through the ages from druid’s mouth to druid’s ear, went thus.

The Eye is the window to the Soul.

The OakMen will learn to recognize each other by the color of their eye when drawn to each other for to fulfill their mission before The End—and just at the nick of Time.

The totem number of the OakMen is ‘E’(psilon)—’5′ in “Arabic” numerals, ‘ה’ in Babylonian/Chaldean (Jaa’s Hebrew), and in Latin ‘V’ (for Nike—or Victory as best known).
Their totem tree is of course the Oak, and their totem bird the Coronis (in English Crow[n]).
Their totem insect in all languages carries a name most spiritual (’Solomon’s camel’, ‘the Prophet’s bug’ or Madonna’s pony’ to name a few)—in English ‘Preying Mantis’.
Their totem animal—SheWolf.

Their Eye is the color of the acorn (corrupted into the neutral ‘hazel’), and the Venus Occultation during the winter solstice of 2012 will mark The End of this here now we live in Jaa-dominated Era.

We—and All Our Relations (mobile or im-, on, in, or under the waters, the lands, or the heavens), are living HereNow on this planet a reality that’s not our own original; experiencing a violent world cut—tailor-made, to some big bad and ugly bully’s needs.
A world of greed, discord, UnNature.
A world alien to Our Good Will and Sensuality.
A world where Knowledge and Art rank just—not even 2nd, but 3rd best.

Fantasy that is shut off too long from Nature, degenerates into a self-deluding hell—a hell that can nevertheless be insidiously appealing.
The transposition of this personal hell to others—JudaeoChristianoIslamowise, through naked power or cunning rhetoric, is and has caused the greatest evil.

Why buy into the fantasy of those depraved oligarchs we have baptised the “Jaa”? Because that’s what we’ve found?

Why not work instead towards rebuilding that which We count Real?
Our World?

The World of Knowledge and Art which embodies—to our understanding, simply, the meaning of Life.

The question reasonably raised lately, Why would Epsilon be based in, and operate out of, Turkey of all elsewise choice?

The answer though not one-faceted, is plain enough and simple.

First off, even if the spiritual connection be ignored (wherefore Rumi {Jelaleddin}—the poet of Epsilon, so lived and died here); and take the matter strictly on a flesh-and-bone level, this is the state-symbol where, at this TimeSpace universally most critical, the ongoing battle between the Jaa and Epsilon has reached its most decisive point.

For this is a symbol-state—here on Earth’s crust the one SuperSpot unique, its people being HereNow called upon to take a stand and make The Final Choice: of either relapsing into the Moslem State of not that long–just three quarters of a century–ago that it was; or honor the legacy of the (Maverick) Paradigm that, single-handedly, an Epsilon leader later nicknamed Ataturk (Father of Turks), against all odds created.

And second off, our MediTerra (MiddleEarth) has played CenterBase for Epsilon since the first landed settlement on this here planet’s surface; Lykia in South Turkey being the only site on Earth retaining the epithet that signified our origin.

For Lykia means WolfLand (with even the most accepted interpretation of Lyk that wants it to mean Light, deriving actually from references to the Light of Sirius, aka the Wolf/DogStar our Metropolis, where stands our ancient home).

Lyk is the root for Wolf (Lykophos or WolfLight being the Ellenic word for Twilight for example); Lykos denoting the male animal, and Lykaina—more to the point: the Great SheWolf, the Totem of our Tribe.

The 2004 Venus Occultation’s (its {8yr younger} “twin” coinciding with the 2012 Solstice situation) Epsilon promotion (highlighting the ancient Ellenic land-base) universally by dint of fame (Athens Olympics) and glory (EuroCup), thus impressing on the ignorant masses the fact of our past existence on this planet to an extent unprecedented—notwithstanding:

A few hours after the “Final family feud…etc” post is published, another plane (flying from Turkey) falls out of the sky (into Holland).
(The actual countries bare but small gravity in the matter. But they define the episode as well as give rhythm to the sentence.)

A couple o’ days after the “Walls…etc” post is published, the Bangladesh border guards massacre their bosses and initiate a week-long standoff with governmental forces.

Within the week that work on our manuscript “E—The Final CountDown” starts with a view to a podcast, on which manuscript the Columbine high school massacre is “irrationally” explained/analyzed; and a week or two after a certain portrayal of the German postwar generations on “Epsilon and any given marked borderline…etc”; a German teenager (with easily exploitable to European anti-gun lobbies access to a pistol) kills 15.

And all this within less than three months after this here epsilonrising site is launched, just as a freighter named Sirius become famous—held captive for ransom by pirates.

What is the Sirius connection now you ax?

This is for us—and the Jaa of course, to know.
And for you—if you dare, to find out.

“When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war.”

It was not the Jaa per se that succeeded finally in overthrowing Epsilon dominance—and culture.
It was the endless quarreling of free men whose freedom of spirit shot upward and turned upon their heads, guided by their unwillingness to unite and co-operate under a common directive—even if that directed them to safeguard that freedom.

“They would rather perish separately than agree together for any length of time or submit to the overall control of (any) one city or state”.

Thus they lost that freedom. To a bunch of rachitic conspirators—and their ChristianoDemocratic doctrines (music to slaves’ and minions’ and plebeian {m}asses’ ears).

It wasn’t “simply” political or freedom of religion they lost, but total freedom of expression. They lost, that is, what matters most, in matters of the Matter.

For what is a bodyMind (or bodySoul) on this here planet’s surface, whose Spirit can’t be duly expressed most fluently and freely?