Saturday, 30 June 2007
Thursday, 28 June 2007
Here's another link. http://news.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,91210-1272677,00.html. Now check out the detail: 'The man was picked up in the port city of Algeciras in the south of the country near Gibraltar in the early hours of this morning.'
Port city... Maritime Signals. And Gibraltar. (Or as near as dammit.) If you've been following my research of late- and I know a few of you have- and you've kept apace with my current obessions, then you'll be aware of the significance of the maritime link (even if I haven't been able to fully explain it quite yet. Call it a psychic hunch, if you like.) And as for the additional Gibraltar factor: it's all there in black, white and HTML. Just refer back to my post entitled Madeleine- The Truth, for my prediction, based entirely on the work of Matthew James, that this island might yet prove to be the key which unlocks the entire case.
There were further maritime links to previous developments: the alleged sightings of Madeleine boarding a boat in the company of wealthy Arabs. And then came the news- which I was meaning to report on last night- of the vigil at Knock, Ireland's holiest shrine, on Friday night; further reinforcing the already tight relationship between the disappearance of Madeleine and the Vatican.
Latest reports are now suggesting the arrests may be linked to an attempt to extort money from the McCanns rather than to the abduction itself; so let's hold fire and await more news. Whatever the outcome, expect a comprehensive update soon... in which I hope to finally start shedding light on these mysterious Maritime Signals...
Sunday, 24 June 2007
Let's try and weave together a few of our obsessions into something resembling sense. Firstly: Madeleine, back in the news- was she ever away?- and with fresh sightings in, of all places, Malta. (M is for Malta, anyone?) For anybody who has been following the exceptional research Matthew James has been conducting into this most unusual case, this new geographical ingredient did not come as a surprise. To a far greater degree than anybody else currently writing on this subject, Matthew has Madeleine down: he knows the score; and has been correctly predicting the newest plot twists in this already convoluted thriller for several weeks.
On the sixth of June he published an article on his blog A Light In The Darkness- basically a sort of psychic scrapbook wherein he records his daily interactions with sundry guides, Ascended Masters and the like- stating:
'It has been proposed by 'higher forces' that those who hold Madeleine McCann are more often than not on 'the seven seas' and flit from sacred shore to sacred shore to elude detection. The indications are that Malta, Rhodes & even Cyprus may have been where their 'lavish' ocean vessel may have been moored.'
Thus, in one paragraph he neatly connects Madeleine not only with Malta and two other islands with strong historical links to the Knights Templar and Hospitallers- and thus, we may surmise, their modern counterparts- but also to the 'seven seas': the Maritime link that we have been sensing over the course of our own investigation. And what about those other locations he references? Cyprus, it is rumoured, is scheduled to become an outpost in a future 'Eretz Israel', rumours not limited to Islamists or anti-Semites. (See here for more.)
And Rhodes, too, has been much on my mind: not just for its Olympian/Olympic connections, but also as the setting for the best parts of Matthew Delooze's latest, highly recommended, book. Very interestingly, the island was also where an early Prime Meridian was established- by the Greek astronomer Hipparchus, in the second century BCE. Knowing the present centre of the Vanishing Point, zero degrees, now resides in Greenwich, and another mysterious link arises between the faded port-al of SW10 and the little missing Madgalene.
Curiouser still is the fact that the next point to be touted by astronomers, or a significant faction of them, as 'The Place Where Days Begin and End' also has a connection with Greenwich (and thus, to Madeleine.) This is the Canary Islands, used to mark the Prime Meridian by the influential Ptolemy, born in Roman Egypt in 90 CE. The Canaries, a (likely) derivation of the name being found in the dogs that traders discovered there- from the Latin canis- lent their name to the Isle of Dogs which Greenwich peers out upon; the islands being an important trading partner for vessels departing from the many docks that were once located there. And the Canaries have also turned up in Matthew James's forecasts as a possible holding place of Madeleine McCann; a useful port of call to and fro the island he identifies as being at the centre of the mystery, Maddy's principal prison: Gibraltar.
Now this is of great interest to me for a number of reasons. I hope you're ready for a (brief) info-burst; this is shaping up to be a rather long article already, but please persevere.
In 1995, Pope John Paul II- the great champion of Fatima, remember, and Marian devotee without rival, whose spectre clings to the whole Madeleine mystery- designated the shrine of Europa Point in Gibraltar as a "potent symbol" for the unification of Europe and "a place where, under the patronage of Mary, the human family will be drawn ever more closely into fraternal unity and peaceful coexistence." (Read the text of the papal declaration here.) This shrine- created in 1309 by King Ferdinand IV of Spain- is not far from a cave where Phoenician seafarers established a similar shrine to Astarte, the Queen of Heaven, seven centuries before Christ.
On 20th August 1462, on St. Bernard of Clairvaux's feast day, Spain recaptured Gibraltar from the Moors and reconsecrated the site. A statue of the Virgin and Child- Our Lady of Europe- was installed there in the early fifteenth century; and despite vandalism at the hands of the British, under Admiral Sir George Rooke in 1704, the statue survived, after being smuggled out of the country, and returned to Gibraltar in 1864. It was transferred back to Europa Point in 1967, another significant anniversary coming up later this year- 2007 being replete with them- and her official status as Our Lady of Europe formerly approved by Pope John Paul II twelve years later. At the same time he transferred her annual feast day to May 9, Europe Day, coined to commemorate the signing of the Schuman Declaration (which led directly to the creation of the European Union) in 1950.
For these reasons and others, Gibraltar is capable of mustering the same sort of terror into the hearts of Protestant conspiracy theorists as the aforementioned 'Eretz Israel.' And these fears- that the territory is scheduled to play a leading role in the creation of a unified Europe under the aegis of the Vatican- may not be entirely unfounded. Frequently cited as evidence for this is the colony's twenty pence coin, issued from London, depicting Mary as 'Our Lady of Europe', and a bust of the queen symbolically shorn of its usual adornments: the letters D.G REG F.D- Queen by the Grace of God, Defender of the Faith.
(Coincidentally, the 'Eretz Israel' brigade- of which I'm probably a member- also point to a coin to make their case: Israel's ten-agora piece, of which Yasser Arafat is said to have kept an example ready to hand in his jacket pocket. All the better to demonstrate the 'glaring demonstration of Zionist aspirations' he saw encoded thereon: a veiled map of the Middle East straddled by a Jewish menorah tracing a curve from the eastern Mediterranean right on up to the Gulf. ('From the nile to the Euphrates.')
According to the mysterious JAH, whose internet site optimistically promises 'The long-awaited TRUTH of All Things on Planet Earth', Gibraltar is the most important sea-gate on the planet: 'the gateway to the old and new age.' It was where John Lennon- another frequent visitant to Battling the Behemoth- tied the knot with Yoko Ono, and the point from where Charles and Diana embarked upon their ill-fated honeymoon.
Thus there are good esoteric reasons why Gibraltar might well feature in a story of the magnitude of the disappearance of Madeleine; and why a conspiracy which has already thrown up the Pope, Fatima and the soon-to-convert Tony Blair in unholy union, might well be orchestrated from a landmass intimately connected with European integration under theocratic law. Sound insane? Perhaps it is... But let me remind you that Madeleine went missing on the evening of May 3rd 2007, the true (astrological) Beltane, as Ellis Taylor never fails to remind us. In readiness, perhaps, for her Gibraltarian feast day a few days later?
A few months back two Gibraltar-minted coins came into my possession. Despite my abject poverty- a fact of which I am, perversely, rather proud- I have kept these coins in a very safe place, not dreaming of spending them, and regard them as potently significant. Now we know why...
More- much more- to be revealed soon.
For Matthew James's website, please visit http://mara-gamiel.blogspot.com/
For more on Blair's imminent conversion to Catholicism, as flagged up on this blog some weeks back, please visit http://mara-gamiel.blogspot.com/2007/06/blair-will-meet-pope-then-become.html
Saturday, 23 June 2007
And what might this mean? David Southwell is one of several who have noted the invidious emanations this tent appears to produce. Reflected, perhaps, in all of those post-Dome fictions in which the apocalypse (or something remarkably like it) begins within spitting distance: 28 Weeks Later, as discussed in a recent article, Reign of Fire; even Doctor Who shares similar compulsions, judging from a recent novel in which the Dome is squatted by the genderless Cybermen. And now Harry Potter- a frequent presence on this blog- is joining in. Scenes from the latest film, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, were shot on the Isle of Dogs; and whilst the Dome may be absent, the great black obelisk of Canary Wharf looms menacingly large.
Is the Dome a broader manifestation of an exhibit once housed there: The Tower that ate People, a massive prop which arose out of the floor during the Peter Gabriel-scored stage show which formed one of the centrepieces of the original Millenium Exhibition? A giant white corpuscle that oozes toxicity and malice, trailing inevitable despair across its neighbouring territories?
These thoughts are discreetly echoed in this recent article by historian Tristram Hunt, describing the parlous state of the wholescale regeneration programme presently underway in the Thames Gateway. (A large tract of brown-field land stretched out across a slab of east London, Kent and Essex- whose furthermost margin is marked by the Dome, itself the product of regeneration, erected on formerly contaminated land once occupied by a gasworks. It is also, Mr Southwell informs me, the final resting place of Krays nemesis Jake 'The Hat' McVitie, who is buried somewhere beneath the squalid canopy enshrouded in a carpet.)
This huge £6bn project is, Hunt fears, headed for disaster- marked by 'bland, anywhere-nowhere developments... that have no connection to time or place... Conveyor-belt McTerraces straight off the developer's spread sheet.' Inspiring them all, he opines, and standing as 'the entry arch' to the Thames Gateway itself, 'is the cast, hubristic symbol of the Millenium dome': a building 'whose conscious rejection of meaning and memory' casts it as the symbolic progenitor for the spiritless schemata delineated above.
For more on David Southwell and his work, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Southwell
For Tristram Hunt's article on the wrecking of the Thames Gateway, see http://environment.guardian.co.uk/conservation/story/0,,2105366,00.html
Provincial sex symbol Gemma Atkinson, former star of ailing UK soap Hollyoaks, makes this eye-catching appeal on behalf of the bicycle to overweight Londoners.
So we can begin to divine the Masterplan uniting these disparate threads. The grand giveaway on the fourth, urging us all to get in trim for the sake of Mother Earth; the launch of the Tour de France with Napoleonic fanfare on the sixth, then the Prologue and the Grand Depart of the race itself, on the seventh and eighth. All that healthy ecologically-sound energy being generated just in time for Al Gore's Earth First event, which just happens to mark the second anniversary of the London Bombings (brought to you by Tony Blair in association with MI5) also scheduled for 777.
A lot of signals seem to be converging on and around the seventh. Reporting on newly-exhibited papers written by Issac Newton, predicting an apocalyptic event in 2060, the Daily Mirror found space to include the fact that- since 1998- July 5th is the date that loyal members of the Church of the SubGenius have been gathering in western New York to welcome in the eschaton. A resonance which the prolific Steve Willner has picked up on in his latest YouTube video: entitled Fear and Loathing, 777, and the Tree of Life- highly recommended.
Just what is it about this date, we wonder, which makes it such a significant portal? And what is its connection to the sea, as evidenced by the fact that the Tour will pass through Greenwich, a place we have already shown to be intricately connected with another Tour/Tower: Madeleine McCann?
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
'Caravan parade departs the Mall at 08:40. Riders sign on at the Podium between 09.25-10.20. Riders depart the Mall (Depart Fictif) at 10:25. Tower Bridge Ceremony 10:40-10:50. Depart Reel at Romney Road, opposite Maritime Museum, Greenwich at 11:00.'
All this takes place on July 8, a day after the event's 'prologue'- an official fly-by, basically- on the seventh: the second anniversary of the 7/7 attacks, and the same day as Al Gore's eco-fest at Wembley. (There is, in addition, an opening pageant taking place in Trafalgar Square on the evening of July 6th.)
I'll take a closer look at the routes later, to see whether we can tie any of the above in to our Pilgrim's Way/Watling Street speculations. What we do know is that the cyclists, when in Greenwich, will be symbolically traversing the Prime Meridian...
Monday, 18 June 2007
Nelson, pleasingly, is everywhere in this naval stronghold. For auld men of Colliers Wood- where Stane Street traverses the Wandle- this is no great luxury: for my Merton manor is Nelson's old beat, where the sea dog shacked up with Emma. But Maritime Greenwich- the term favoured by UNESCO- is a glaringly more fitting, if somewhat contrived, venue; head for The Trafalgar pub on the riverside, and there he is. Forever in his Greenwich cups.
Was very interested to learn, in two weeks or less, that the Tour de France will begin in these grey climes: the first leg being from London to Canterbury, starting at the Romney Road in Greenwich.
This deeply symbolic passage follows in spirit if not in practice the line of Watlingstrete, or Watling Street, one of the four royal roads of medieval England. This is the Celtic, pre-Roman road that the Romans greatly extended: a road which even mainstream scholars agree skirted preciously close to Greenwich (the nearby town of Blackheath being cited as an important stop en route to Westminster.) But folklorists, enthusiasts and, yes, no doubt a few psychics, have made a convincing case that this unusual perambulation- a characteristic for which Roman roads are hardly noted- may falsely disguise the true, uninterrupted path: which may well have passed directly through Greenwich itself... and preciously close to the Romney Road depart reel of this year's Tour de France in Albion.
The pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales would have used Watling Street to reach their destination; despite the adoption of the Chaucerian-sounding 'Pilgrim's Way' to denote another, even more ancient track: traversing the North Downs from Winchester to Folkestone. This path, or paths- the precise course is contested, and would have changed according to season and conditions- is today closely associated with Kent and Hampshire's crop circles: which seem to be drawn to its ancient circuits as if attempting to impart some faintly-remembered secret. Like last year's 'Pointing Star' glyph: referencing Aylesford's famous priory, with its Black Madonna, and the Medway megaliths scattered nearby. Or the Boxley formation of the same year, a beauty, barely a stone's throw from the grand old road.
Writing last year about the Aylesford formation- which, considering we are rapidly approaching the Feast of St John, appropriately sprang up upon the solstice- I described it as a call 'to revive the pilgrim's quest.' (What a romantic soul I was.) Strangely, happily, in spite of worldly woes and the electrosmog, the call has been powerfully answered. This is the first time since 1994 that the Tour has visited Britain, and the first time ever that it has started here, and that the paramount religious centre of Canterbury has been added to the route. A more striking example of a latter-day pilgrimage, one that will draw energy from all across Europe, could scarely be imagined. (The fact that this all begins at Zero Degrees in Greenwich adds yet esoteric intrigue to the mix.)
So what will all this attention mean- for the country, for we individuals? Pilgrimage, I believe, is a powerful, revivfying force- reclaiming, if only temporarily, a drowned world of myth. This holds good even when the participants are only dimly aware of the significance of their steps; there is still an interaction between consciousness and landscape in a dialogue which refines both. This has been understood by elites from time immemorial; which is partly why large churches so frequently seem to appear in places associated with this ancient alchemy; and why the traditions which are imposed around this necessary act are predominantly religious, serving to funnel the spirit for the benefit of parasitical institutions.
And our own mythmakers have likewise not been tardy in imposing agendae of their own upon what is still an opportunity for emancipation. Announcing the news back in January- this is what happens when you don't possess a television set- the mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, declared that the two stages would be used to commemorate the victims of the 7/7 London Bombings. 'Having the Grand Départ on the seventh of July-' I can hear his Lambeth whine- 'will broadcast to the world that terrorism does not shake our city.'
Fortunately, there are always ways of hacking the system: and certain people who seem to be more adept at that than others. Take Peter Doherty, for example, appearing this weekend in front of a giant pyramid stage at the heart of another mass pilgrim site whose hold over the public consciousness is steadily consolidating.
The Pilgrim's Way, Watlingstrete, the Tour de France in Albion and Zero Degrees in 2012? Seems like Albion is finally stirring...
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
Anyone care to dissect/discuss?
Sussex Police have found that drinkers in the seaside city of Brighton and Hove are particularly aggressive during full moons, despite mixed findings from researchers who have examined the issue previously.'
More at: http://uk.news.yahoo.com/afp/20070605/tuk-britain-police-crime-a7ad41d.html
Monday, 4 June 2007
And whilst I am generally squeamish, the above did give me a chill: call it foreboding, or whatever. Let's just hope I am wrong.
Consider the above illustration, which compliments the maritime and piratical themes of our Greenwich investigation- begun last time. (See the first slice for more.)
I love the emerging tentacles, which achieve a genuinely unnerving effect. Of course, there has always been something truly terrifying about the otherness of octopi, which feeds into our phylogenetic fears of monsters from the deep. (And this, on the same day as claims of a new sighting of Nessie, that suspected plesiosaur of the Highlands.)
And octopi, for this reason and others, have long been favoured as items of occult fetish; by 'secret' societies in particular. The fearful elasticity of the porous brain, obscured beneath the waves- is as good a mnemonic for the hidden centre as any master strategist could hope to find. No wonder it was used as a symbol by ORMUS, the Priory of Sion; and is regularly employed to illustrate the fears of a Zionist conspiracy by Pan-Arabists and patriots alike. That we should see the arms of an octopus encoiling the White Horse in its leathery grip, is perhaps not too far off being the truth; ironic, then, that it should appear in the pages of MAD Magazine, which brough Yiddish toilet humour to a global audience.(1)
(In addition, the Octopus was the name coined by journalist Danny Casolaro for perhaps the most grandiloquent conspiracy narrative of them all: ensnaring the Iran Contra scandal, the failure of the BCCI, the bombing of Pan Am 103 and many other seemingly disparate phenomena, including the octopi-resonating October Surprise.)
But the real monsters of the deep are found not in the alien waterworld of some deep sea bed, nor in the pages of Melville or Verne, but in the far greater caverns of the human mind. These are the spirits of the past- the memory of every repressed trauma of history: upon which occultists have imposed names and form, and address as demons. Embodied as the dinosaurs and the Watchers, returning as the Quinotaur who spawned a race of kings, it was they whose path Casalaro crossed, at the Cabazon Indian Reservation, where his lust for the Octopus was fired. Their spirits haunt that dry land still, so alike to the name of Chorozon, their voice echoing in the canyons as a holler from the dust.
The Cabazon Dinosaurs by Claude K Bell
From the depths they spoke through Lovecraft, in whose feverish visions of Cthulu they were known as Dagon; whose call Seung Hui-Cho heard when he swung his ISMAIL AX. (Cho had sold books by Lovecraft on an internet site affiliated to E-Bay.) Is it they whose tentacles surface from the deep, to conjure their bloody spell upon the White House?
The theme is found in numberless works of art. It is the grand arch of Dylan's Desolation Row, in which the moon- the Goddess- is almost hidden, where praises are sung to Nero's Neptune, and the Phantom of the Opera assumes the likeness of a priest. And Leroux's Phantom is a revision of La Belle et La Bete, another tale about man's fatal addiction to the daimonic; as well as the title of a song by Peter Doherty, whose life follows the template to a tee. And the process is eminently worthy of art, because it is not without a monstrous beauty: a quality never so well expressed as in Hokusai's nineteenth century woodcut.
It is this willowy beauty- and eroticism- which is at the fore of perhaps the most famous rendition of the ancient tale: Nosferatu, Vlad Draculea, proud member of the Order of the D(r)agon. The relationship between the vampire, and the prey who grows to love him, is a perfect illustration of psychic seduction exacted against an individual. Goth culture- with its trappings drawn from Romanticism- could be seen as the collective celebration of this intoxication, along with its grown-up cousin: the world of S&M.
For, amongst the behavioural patterns which entrain a contact with the underworld, a fascination with ritual is perhaps the most obvious; and ritualised sex in particular. And interestingly, in the last few years, the magical-occult uniform of S&M, with its obvious similarities to items worn by Nazis, have been incorporated into corporate life; to the extent that its aesthetic now largely determines the socially-approved image of the ambitious, ball-breaking female.
Interesting, then, that the first breaths of the modern gothic movement were taken in the 1980s, shortly after the publication of Simon's Necronomicon, a how-to manual for opening the abyss. And that the Necronomicon- indebted to Lovecraft- should also lean so heavily on another man's work, the prima magister himself: Mr Crowley. In that regard, observe the squid's resemblance in the Hokusai woodcut, to the elongated skull of the Wizard of Oz, whom researcher Synkronos23 has connected to Crowley's praeternatural interlocutor LAM: himself a prototype for the ubiquitous Greys. We should perhaps add that the Oz series, written by Theosophist Frank Baum, may well refer to the Egyptian Osiris, who- as Aiwass- dictated Crowley's Book of the Law (Liber AL) through his wife, the appropriately-named Rose.
We further observe the Death's Head- the Jolly Roger- flying from the White House roof: the symbol adopted by the fleet of the former Knight's Templar, some of whom turned to piracy following the Order's dissolution. Since those times, it has been closely associated with Templarism's offshoot, Freemasonry, and various neo-masonic groups such as Yale's Brotherhood of Death, before being taken up with great enthusiasm by the SS. This is very appropriate because the principle insignia of Nazism, the swastika, is a form of the Star of David: and both Templarism and Masonry can be traced back to Judaism, and the myths of Solomon's Temple. Moreover, according to author Nicholas de Vere, the skull and bones is- 'in a precise hermetic sense'- equal and identical to the Davidic hexagram, which is a pictogram of the alchemical union of Fire and Water, the interlocking triangles. In the case of the Death Head, the skull depicts the male principle representing the pineal gland, and the crossed bones the womb and urethra, the feminine. Thus, in an esoteric sense at least, when the White House flies the Jolly Roger it is flying none other than the flag of the (Zionist) Octopus itself.