Hello Dr. Stankov,
I finished reading one of your older posts about mushrooms, LSD etc. When I was much younger I used to experiments with these but had long ago lost the urge. Well a few years back I ate some Christmas candy that was in the fridge. Was working on the computer and felt I was possibly getting a cold, my shoulders were aching. I look up to find the walls alive. Ran down stairs to ask if there was something in that candy, “Oh he didn’t tell you?”
Now I’m in the bathroom with my fingers down my throat trying to throw up. Anyway, what I ended up doing is writing. I always said I wished I could write some of the things we’d come up with as kids doing these mushrooms.
I didn’t read it for some time and when I did, I was amazed. It’s like that depth-poetry when I read it aloud, the way it flows. I can send you the un-edited cut if you like. It is multidimensional lifetimes, deaths and re-births. Nothing I’ve ever done would bring this information to light, in this life anyhow.
I did slight editing, because I wrote ‘whatever’ came to mind, and submitted it to a writing group on-line. I was top 10 that day. Allow me to present the mushroom manifesto. 2005.
THINGS FROM IN BETWEEN
Things from in between, on the edges, on the side spreading out and jumping in. Sounds, colors, feelings, touch is all the same blurring in and out. Amber light hues with red, like some days in the summer when I notice a different light, breathing blue then amber reds.
I have no distractions from before, so this must be my little wish come true. Something to do before I die. To be able to lay a few words down and read them in the past, future, present. I had put this away now it presents itself once again. I planned in the past for this to happen now. So here we are where everything breathes. I stop to breathe and see everything again, then I come back here to the planned thing. Blue then amber reds.
Everything wants to be looked at I don’t want to see, don’t want to give it my attention. Not now, here in this place planned from the past. I create a dreamscape from inside my mind, a current one I suppose, but they all connect. I have been feeling this need to somehow direct or sort out things, package them, don’t know why it doesn’t matter really, because it all comes to an end, here. The fantastic reality of it all is anything at all, just a bunch of feelings to get in the way of trying to live. The whole plan designed to corrupt us all.
I can see them trying to hide as I write. They fly off the page I’m placing my words onto. I watch them scurry off to the right, yes it is right, had to pause for a moment to be sure. More of them jump at me recognizing them, scheming little pranksters, all around me now, annoying, jumping, wanting my attention, wanting me to stop and pay them all my attention. Away with you, go whence you need to be, go where you are wanted. Not here.
Okay so which dreamscape, the one with the shiny water reflecting like mercury, what’s under the water? The beautiful sparking water, sinister, sinking buckled in. Then following people who don’t know where they are going and its alleys and behind old brick homes and skinny pathways with chain link fences scraping me, binding me in, with horizons of bleak white sky, parched. Once out of the hindered spot, on top of brick, piles of rubbish, land fills, over hills in the dump to the stark buildings. I can see my stuff on the seat like I left it. The little girl, wake up. Dreams, sometimes they aren’t my dreams they’re just in my head. The blue, amber reds.
The smells, feelings, the light energy of days I lived in the past. Feeling as if I were there right now. I love it, it’s all real right now. Always our memories are what we live for, cherish and take with us on our entire journey. We can expand each picture and go inside to feel and experience as deeply as we wish, or not. Sometimes other lifetimes, millions of lifetimes, they seem unreal. I can feel them, just as I feel it here and now.
The catacombs, the passages, the secrets, the being lost and the mud. The songs, crying, sorrow, the life of people. Blood into sand into mud. The bones buried in the mud, the writing on the walls, I scribe. I go until I don’t anymore. I can see this lifetime in the catacombs. Jesus is a common face, someone I know, I touch. I write his word messages because they move me. I want them to exist after I am gone. I scribe them into stone, I put them in passages, hidden meanings in songs, poems, they must bring about new life, understanding, they grow in the fiber of human Christ, human being, human god and life is the energy of that word, having to hide it to keep it alive.
I was killed, tortured, slayed, died so many deaths, hideous death. Scavenged by rats, birds, crabs in the sea. Tied to the pillars, the sea comes in and out. I rot slowly ebbing decay, but I scrape my truth into the sand, my mark into the rock to find it again in another life. I don’t know what draws me to the things with no meaning, what I listen to, that no one hears is me calling me so I remember where I was, who I was, who I am, in order to know where I am and where I am going. It’s all a game I play to amuse myself because it’s so un-amusing at times but when I can find myself, then the horrible deaths mean something because it worked, here I am and I remember.
The old wooden buildings no insulation, stilts. It’s a wonder we lived in passages like these. Holes in all the walls, cracks to feed our imagination, to gather messages of truth and lies to use somehow to further our progress in the miserable life we live. Dust, mildew, hungry, fighting dogs for food, and sleeping with them for warmth, being bitten by them and fleas, and being sick, smelling burning bodies, piles of them, burning. Scared, hiding, starving, lost I’m a child, alone and hungry but I hide or they kill me. I live with the dogs and the rats. I eat dead rats, the stench and smoke, but I live through this only to die, hung in the gallows. I was hungry is all, but this was a better ending to be born out of that, and I remember.
The beach again, the waves, being tied, crabs, scratching, sandy sounds, scratching trying to move to scare them away, but at night they move in, so many the sound is deafening. The moon, cold, the water warmer, covering me safe. Now its stark, I’m open, bleak, crabs, mites, fleas, wind, sand, air cold. The water comes and the sound, the deafening sound is quieter. The water is cool but safe. After currents and bubbles, the sand sucks me under, the sound becomes ebbing, like in the womb of another life, I die into the sand.
I remember the killing, beheading, wet sticky rock, head in a basket, scratchy, rolling, eyes open. Feeling it, my body flops twitches, my head rolls in the basket. Or my head is held by my hair, scalp pulling back, skin pulls from the chin and bone underneath, planted onto spikes, thrown into piles, smashed by children with wooden bats. Smashing the skulls in, this is mindless for them, they are gone. I remember.
Then there is the Nazis. I died and I killed. I suffered, was shaven, starved with my child. I see them suffer, my daughter, shaven, skinny, I watch her die. I am killed in the showers with pellets not water, gas, smells, throwing up, guts and shitting, everyone shitting, lying in it, rolling in it, on my face, then pushed by machines into piles, into holes, buried, some buried alive. In the dirt it was clean, no gas smell, dirt was clean. The sound of marching, guns, boots and dogs, gone with the dirt in my ears, in my eyes yellow and sticky. Hiding with Jews in homes with hidden spots in the walls, can’t move or breathe, the boots right there, I can’t breathe or I die. I don’t die, I live.
I remember again in the mud, in the jungle starving again because I’m held captive. Rice rotting, molding rice and piss to live on for years. My bones are bamboo. I grow out of the pit and into the trees and air with my mind, until I am a bird and I fly away free into the sky, away from the pit of slime. They forgot I was there. I was shit on, pissed on, then even the moldy rice was gone. I had to become the bamboo and grow out. It took time but it was real, I lived it, it became my reality and I died into that reality.
My bones nourish the bamboo I watched grow from a sprout and my union with that plant goes on even to this day. I still rot, bones left un found. There are clues to who I was and it’s close, not Vietnam this was Japans. The clues are still touching the living of now. The bamboo flourishes. The mud and the cage are gone, the passages gone, this is a wasteland except for the bamboo that holds me, my memories and dreams grow there still today, now.
Power grows constant food for the soul, simple, egoless magnificence. I remember in the North, by the sea, Vikings, old, huge buildings, beer, killing, animals, fur, smoke. I’m small, picked on, cast out, cold I die. Again cast out, this time I live because of the dogs, again with the dogs, but this isn’t such depravity because I know no other way. There is no proof of other ways of living like in the plague ridden lifetimes.
This is older, more powerful, animals are gods with power and knowledge to be given. I become a messenger, feared, but I don’t know this. I just move and with me my story unfolds. People I meet tell of me after I’m gone and build who I am in this life. I have no idea the icon I was. I am just me, living amongst the animals free. Others seek me not to kill, but to know me. I don’t know this though I’m oblivious.
They look for me for years even after I die, I am alive still in their mind. Yet I lie deep in the ice, happy, asleep still. I’m by my fire, with my dogs and a hawk and I have tools and fur and smoke and I have bundles with medicine and foraged things from afar that amuse me, all kept neat in a cache. I have several caches along my way that I gather into four before I sleep. I wander to each of them still and look at my treasures of bark and seeds from places the seed grow into plants but will freeze and die where I too die.
Old sand again, back to Egypt. So much wonder and chaos, playing, I am a mischievous boy running and causing trouble. Everyone is high, everyone sleeps their life away in dreams. The river slow life, everything goes into it and down. Up away from the depths are great creatures delving into things better left alone, but they can’t help themselves. So much fun to make them wonder, so much fun to amuse themselves and practice here where everything is new. They can’t come back and things pass on, before they know it time takes its course and the majestic-ness is left for others to wonder and figure out.
The ones who played were taken from their game and never again would return. So then it plays out, the pyramids they live in them, stumbling into holes trapped, and passages that mean nothing, everything is a circle and a game. There must be a reason, no, no reason, just a big question mark. Well, guess what, here we are again and everything must come back. They know not of their past, but I do. I remember.
I wrote it, scribed it along with the words of Jesus. I scribed so I would be able to prove the wonders I’ve seen, I scribed to believe it myself, I scribed so I wasn’t crazy, so I could later ponder, so I could reason and find ways to believe the un-believable, the magic we create. The whole thing is a big joke, amusing joke. The worry, the fear, the money kills us. The life is all because of the fear, the money or is it the killing because of the knowledge. They tried to silence the truth, the words of Jesus, the words of truth and the fear killed it, over and over warping the truth into lies and it becomes something else.
Did I create this scribing, make it possible by scribing? Without the words, there would be nothing to hide, nothing to fear, nothing to warp into something to control. Was it a good idea to do this, so I could remember, see myself again after I die? The evidence left to the hands of others who play and make it what they want, not what it is and what I want to remember. Warped reality into something entirely different, something not real.
Scribe in the catacombs, living in the mud starving with a purpose full of love because my life was scribed on the walls of mud forever, this death for what. This time unplanned but planned all the same. Running from today’s worries too horrible to allow the weakness of my mind to have, so I go into the dreams only to come up with the lives and deaths of just a few of me[s].
The need to sort and circle and see defining edges is such as it seems a way for me to touch what I love, touch what holds my energy, my power. Touch it and burn it and let it go so I can hold my power truly for the first time in this eternity. Since the lifetime with Jesus I have wandered and suffered and now I am coming back again, sealing up the wounds, patching up the past time space and gaps in the dimensions I cannot see from here, but they exist all the same. Some of them hollow and haunting others new and curious, dangerous, but here and now, I am coming back to me finally.
This is beautiful to be able to know this and witness it myself, something else. All this really doesn’t matter anymore. Soon I’ll be where I come from, the bird created from the life in the bottom of a pit. A spark lighting up a moment in this dimension harbored by time. I walk no more, suffer no more, breathe for the first time in eternity and resonate once again with my being, with out agenda calling, more work to be done, keeping me from having this, the wholeness and the peace and completeness of a job done to perfection, everything in it’s place, everything perfect, this is the lifetime for that, this is the death of that, this time I die I am truly dead and alive again truly alive. I am complete.
This death will be a glorious death. How ever it may be, it will be. Those who still toil, though I leave no energy I give them a memory. This they might build upon with their own power to give them self permission to have a good death also, and mayhap they will be silenced from calling agendas too, and join me where I am.
Note: Dear Jodie, your email does not work. I tried eight times to send you my response to no avail and the delivery of my email was denied each time. I managed to sent you an email on an old email address. Check it. – George
Healing with Braco’s Gazing – A study Case
by Georgi Stankov Posted on January 30, 2015
by Eldbjørg Havåg and Georgi Stankov, January 30, 2015
January 28, 2015
I have to ask your advise even though it seems pitifully small in the midst of all the exciting topics you publish these days. It is most definitely connected to the Seven Sacred Flames though. And I am pretty close to my rope´s end.
Do you know anything about eczema? And eczema connected to spirituality? I really thought I was well done with personal transmuting, but I suppose I am deeper than I think. I have never had eczema before, and then suddenly like a smack in the face I got a terrible case of it right before Christmas. My face blew up like a balloon and after trying to brave the storm for 10 days I ended up in the emergency room on new years eve getting a cortisone shot and cream and sleeping pills. After two weeks the skin got better so I stopped using the cream.
Since I had been so physically ill, I could´t concentrate to get deeply involved in the Sacred Flames, but you wrote an energy report some time around the 10th of January which somehow woke me up from a slumber I have been in for too long. Probably almost a year. Looking back I realized I had become totally spiritual lethargic the last year, since I felt I was done with this world and only wanted out. I have been neglecting my Own deepest wishes and responsibilities and I think that is the cause for my current misery. I actually felt lost at sea until that energy report, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your wisdom and diligence.
I felt reborn. I started reading about the Flames in Aurelia L. Jones PDF book, (which is amazing) and to invoke them and use them. And I thought I´d give my newly discovered Body Elemental a break and did a shankaprakshalana (yoga intestinal cleansing and following diet). Which can cause old illness to blossom for a short while due to the candida die-off.
It did come back, in a small amount. Accompanied with such an intense anxiety that I have never felt before. I saw you replied to someone in a PAT report who also got anxiety from invoking the gold-violet flame, that it was due to open chakras and collective fears.
I thought the itching would fade away on it´s own, applied God’s first will and affirmed to myself that this too shall pass. Then today, while I was waiting for the printer to give me Aurelia´s book on paper the anxiety was out of control, it felt like my arms even had angst. The printer said it was out of magenta even though I just changed it, so I took it as a sign and sat down and read the prayer for Third Ray Healing. I read it out louder and louder for 20 minutes while I cried and sobbed in desperation. My face started buzzing and vibrating all the way to my throat. I got the notion the anxiety has to do with repressing something for too long. Not allowing my Higher Self and my faith to show. I thought I had made a breakthrough and that I would be able to report a miracle healing.
The anxiety lifted, the face felt decent and I got a big headache. But after a meditation on the bed, I only felt dreadfully sad, sobbed some more, and when I looked in the mirror the eczema had all of a sudden come back for full instead of going away, and I had to use the cortisone cream again.?!
Do you think I have dug up some deep, deep old stuff that´s needing to surface? I have recently been reminded the skin is our biggest disposal organ. Is it even mine or is it collective? Or have I planted negativity into my prayer instead of healing power? Can one not be sad when one invoke flames?
I don´t know what to think anymore. I feel like my HS is desperately trying to tell me something, but I can´t grasp what. And you shall not have to solve this for me, but any thought you might have would be appreciated, since you are the wisest man on Earth and the only one worth asking.
With love, light and truth
let me begin with your experience today. It has nothing to do with you. We had a huge leap to higher frequency levels yesterday (Jan 27th) and today was the subsequent massive cleansing of the chaotic sluggish energies we had released yesterday. It was a wave with skin burning, anxiety, triggered by technical problems on PC etc . and I had the same episode this morning. Hence I am not surprised that you have had a relapse of your eczema.
Now to your eczema. It must definitely be related to your LBP but I will strongly urge you not to use any corticosteroids whatsoever as this will only aggravate the clinical situation on the long run.
What I would recommend you is to go immediately to Braco’s gazing and participate in it and I am hopeful that this will heal you. He has a gazing session today.
Then tell me please how you have responded.
With love and light
Thank you for your good reply, doctor.
It is always reassuring to hear about frequency level leaps when they correspond with how I feel, and it´s strange that I still question whether it´s me or something collective. I just get unsure when the symptoms are so massive and somewhat different from the usual. I am a big fan of your energy reports even though you feel they are repetitive.
I don´t like using cortisone or any other drug, but right now I don´t dare not to. It´s too close to my traumatic episode at Christmas to see if it pans out on it´s own. I cringe writing that for there´s a battle lost just there. I feel, because for two days I have told myself it will heal when I am ready to heal. I will attach a picture of the wretched transmuter and one for comparison, not for sympathy but because I find it utterly fascinating myself.
I gazed with Braco twice today, one directly after my Pink Flame episode, and one later in the evening. I had high hopes but I can´t say whether it helped or not. When I think about it I am not so anxious as I have been the last days. I can breathe again. And it may well be his gaze that did that. Difficult to say really. I liked the eye-contact. I find that people are reluctant to gaze into each others eyes. I might try again tomorrow. I might be even better tomorrow. It might be the correspondence with you that did the trick. To not be invisible.
One of these days I might write to you about how I use the Seven Sacred Flames.
Thank you again for all you do.
Peace and Love
January 29, 2015
To wrap up the story: I washed away the cortisone before bed and studied the Resurrection Flame for several hours with great beaming joy. Today I have almost smooth skin and the anxiety is checked. I´ll give this one to Braco´s gaze because that´s the only factor that´s different from any other of these days. Besides, when looking into my own eyes I seem to see deeper.
I hope you have a wonderful day.
With love and light
and after Braco’s gazing on the next day
This is a great story and I am very happy to hear about this healing success.
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Herewith, I am responding to some PAT members who questioned the meaningfulness of Braco’s gazing and asked for clarification as to why I have published on this event today. Please do not forget that this website is an open forum for all kinds of discussions without limit and it is only “verboten” for idiotic comments of CIA paid Internet trolls. They are not even read but immediately deleted.
I am a little bit behind in my reading of your website but I’m catching up. Thank you so much for the gift of the 7 sacred flames which I’ve now had a chance to print out and will read and am already trying to use in my own way every day.
I wanted to tell you belatedly that on the night of the 21st I had a very distinct and powerful dream that I was meeting with Putin and he was called “Putinkov” in the dream. Anyway, it was very intimate in that it was just he and I and it seemed he was telling me very specifically how to explain to the American people that he is not who they think he is. It was very realistic even though I don’t remember specifically what was said. Everytime I see him on TV I feel warmth and light from him.
A couple nights later I had another dream in which we were all sitting in a circle, with people unknown to me, and we were presenting and discussing and electing a new leader of sorts to represent ourselves. That was a very beautiful feeling.
Lastly I wanted to say how glad I am that you’ve published about Braco’s healing gaze. I feel so stupid that I have never discussed him with you. I have known about him since 2009 and we’ve gone to see him in person many times in Opatija and a few in Zagreb. It was stupid of me in the past not to mention him to you. I think in the past several years ago I was somehow hesitant to tell you based on how fierce you were about most people mentioned at the time. But that was really budala, glupost of me. I have learned since then of course to be open to all your critiques and you’ve truly freed me and us of this stupid now global idea of controlling your emotions.
In recent months I’ve forgotten to talk to you about Braco. Now I wonder what you think. I personally have not had extraordinary experiences with him though I always feel a powerful positive love from him and several times when he was in Opatija Leo and I ran into him in person in a cafe or restaurant and one time while walking along the sea. Our timing was almost always unbelievable.
I did have one time a lump on my left shoulder that I had checked. It was not malignant but I happened to be in Zagreb at that time and I went to see him the next day and the lump disappeared immediately. I have friends who have had pretty amazing healings after or while gazing with him. I feel he is certainly a light being. I also feel somehow connected to his teacher Ivica whom I never met.
I don’t know if you knew this but during the last 6 months of Lugansk and Donetsk violence Braco traveled at least twice and maybe 3 times to the border of Russia and Ukraine to do gazings there. This seems significant to me.
I don’t know if you are ready to share this with us yet but I would like to know if you are, what the Elohim see in him and how his mission is related to the PAT.
I have just finished gazing with him and now will go again at 9pm.
Much love from Croatia to Vancouver to you and Carla.
I am happy to hear from you again. Well Putin is in the most difficult position a politician on this earth can be. Only a few days ago I dreamed that I was in Kremlin and there was a cabinet crisis and Putin had to dismiss the whole government due to incompetence. I was appointed the new PM and had to build a new cabinet to help him. As I could not find any competent politicians, I appointed some young guys and only left Lavrov and the current defence minister in the new cabinet. It was a dramatic operation and since then I am closely following the news to hear if something has happened in this respect.
Well, I have no great affiliation to Braco, although I decided to follow his gazing meditation today, but could not feel much. Carla thinks that he is also an Elohim from the Source and has the only function to let the source energies flow through his body and field and do the healing work on other people. As said, the Elohim urged Carla to support him and in the past when she did this, there were some amazing results, such as spontaneous healings and blissful states that were experienced by many people for the first time and then reported on Braco’s website.
I think that such gatherings are helpful as the people are concentrated on higher energies and transcend their human existence for a short period of time. I do not think that this is much helpful for the PAT as they do it all the time, but working with the new seven sacred flames and watching Braco’s gazing may increase the creationary results.
The best of Braco is that he has no own ideas and school and simply lets the source energies flow through him and into the people in an uncensored manner. Other gurus screw up all the time by trying to be manipulative with their ideas and thoughts and by telling the people what they should do to evolve. The only proper advice they omit to give to the people is to improve their intelligence as not to need such gurus. I am the only one who openly advocates this approach but I am barely successful as only a few follow my advice. Which leads us to the well known conclusion that homo sapiens is a very lazy species.
With love and light
I could not agree more. I had to come to this conclusion the hard way, by attempting to search and find a guru and a teacher and then realizing, shortly before I discovered your website and the Unviersal Law, that this search was futile and that we truly need only ourselves.
You are the only one I’ve encountered who advocates not only our own sovereignty but intellectual and emotional intelligence, which is so sorely missing in the new age movement.
I heard of Braco from an American, believe it or not. We’d never heard of him while living in Croatia at that time. As I said I also do not feel the amazing things many people report, but I enjoy the flow of energy from him.
I think you’ve changed a little bit your view since a few years ago when you expressed that group gatherings were not that much useful, but then again Braco’s gaze is not really a meditation but rather just a group of people joining together and sharing a very receptive and open-ended experience.
I remember your report on Putin and the cabinet changing you experienced. I certainly don’t cherish myself as having a connection with him as you do. This is the first dream I had with him in it but it was certainly powerful and it seems I was supposed to be explaining at some future point to the “very lazy species” that they should begin to open their numb skulls and view him with an open mind.
I truly appreciate so much your integrity and continuous crystal clear honesty Georgi. It’s like a damned hurricane of fresh air blowing through this dark planet. It’s more precious than any special energy from any guru or any other source.
Anyway, I will certainly report on any creationary results I experience these few days of gazing. Lately I’m envisioning a city of light emerging from the sea in the bay of Kvarner and dissolving completely all old Yugoslav and industrial infrastructure.
Too bad that Croatia’s election didn’t turn out more like Greece. They rather went the other way and elected this lutkica (doll) looking woman named Kolinda Grabar-Kitarovic who has to be certainly a tool of the US. Everything about her breathes that. She spent the last several years as a NATO rep in Brussels and spent part of her teenage years going to Los Alamos high school. I tried to explain to the Croatian people we know that this is a city where the first Atom bomb was exploded and it is not a place any ordinary citizen can go to and is probably one of the darkest locales in the states. But yet they elected her, which shows the level of intelligence in these parts. Still at least the young guy I told you about, Sincic, who is fighting for people’s homes who have been confiscated by the bankers, is still active and won almost 20% of the vote. People here are suffering a lot know b/c they were tricked by the bankers to take loans in Swiss Francs and now they are totally in 15% more debt than before.
But I try not to pay too much attention to this anymore but rather just try to read between the lines and wait for the big events.
Much love and light to you and Carla,
I have not changed my mind with respect to physical gatherings of people, but attuning mentally and emotionally at the same time to a common goal as is the case with participating in Braco’s gazing from home is a powerful tool of superimposing coherent thought waves patterns and creating a standing wave function that is very conducive for any form of creation.
I just read the Raiffeisenbank in Austria is also in great trouble with Swiss franc loans and may ask for help by the ECB. It is incredible how the people are ripped off by the banks, especially by the Central banks which are supposed to function for the common good and how they are impoverished by the banks’ speculations and machinations.
With love and light