Početna stranicaPortalFAQPretraľnikRegistracijaLogin

Share | 

 pećina predaka (eng)

Prethodna tema Sljedeća tema Go down 
Višestanični organizam

Scorpio Dragon
Broj postova : 51
Age : 40
Registration date : 09.10.2012

PostajNaslov: pećina predaka (eng)   uto oľu 05, 2013 9:50 pm

nisam mogao naći na našem jeziku pa cu zaljepiti na engleskom...
uglavnom , davno sam čitao knjigu pećina predaka od T. Lobsanga Rampe i sad nakon toliko godina vidim poveznice koje je on objašnjavao u svojim knjigama. knjige je pisao 50-ih, 60-ih i 70-ih godina prošlog stoljeća. neki kažu da je fake. meni osobno on iznosi toliko detalja u svojim knjigama da jednostavno nije mogao sve to izmisliti.
evo jedan dio iz knjige pećina predaka:
....“I was a very young lama, Lobsang,” commenced my
Guide. “With my Teacher and three young lamas we were
exploring some of the remoter mountain ranges. Some
weeks before there had been an extraordinary loud bang,
followed by a heavy rock-fall. We were out to investigate
matters. For days we had prowled round the base of a
mighty rock pinnacle. Early on the morning of the fifth day
my Teacher awakened, yet was not awake; he appeared to
be in a daze. We spoke to him and received no answer. I
was overcome by worry, thinking that he was ill, wondering
how we should get him down the endless miles to safety.
Sluggishly, as if in the grip of some strange power, he
struggled to his feet, fell over, and at last stood upright.
Stumbling, jerking, and moving like a man in a trance, he
moved ahead. We followed almost in fear and trembling.
Up the steep rock face we climbed, with showers of small
stones raining down upon us. At last we reached the sharp
edge of the range top and stood peering over. I experienced
a feeling of deep disappointment; before us was a small
valley now almost filled with huge boulders. Here evidently
was where the rock fall had originated. Some rock-fault had
developed, or some Earth tremor had occurred which had
dislodged part of the mountainside. Great gashes of newly
exposed rock glared at us in the bright sunlight. Moss and
lichen drooped disconsolately now deprived of any support.
I turned away in disgust. There was nothing here to engage
my attention, nothing but a rather large rock-fall. I
turned to start the descent, but was immediately halted by
a whispered ‘Mingyar!’ One of my companions was pointing.
My Teacher, still under some strange compulsion was
edging down the mountainside.” I sat enthralled, my Guide
stopped talking for a moment and took a sip of water, then
“We watched him with some desperation. Slowly he
climbed down the side, toward the rock-strewn floor of the
little valley. We reluctantly followed, expecting every
moment to slip on that dangerous range. At the bottom,
my Teacher did not hesitate, but picked a careful way
across the immense boulders, until at last he reached the
other side of the stone valley. To our horror he commenced
to climb upwards, using hand and foot holds which were
invisible to us a few yards behind him. We followed reluctantly.
There was no other course open to us, we could not
return and say that our senior had climbed from us, that
we were afraid to follow him—dangerous though the climb
was. I climbed first, picking a very careful way. It was hard
rock, the air was thin. Soon the breath was rasping in my
throat and my lungs were filled with a harsh, dry ache.
Upon a narrow ledge perhaps five hundred feet from the
valley, I lay stretched out, gasping for breath. As I glanced
up, preparatory to resuming the climb, I saw the yellow
robe of my Teacher disappear over a ledge high above.
Grimly I clung to the mountain face, edging ever upwards.
My companions, as reluctant as I, followed behind. By now
we were clear of the shelter afforded by the small valley,
and the keen wind was whipping our robes about us. Small
stones pelted down and we were hard put to keep going.”
My Guide paused a moment to take another sip of water
and to look to see that I was Listening. I was!
“At last,” he continued, “I felt a ledge level with my
questing fingers. Taking a firm grip, and calling to the
others that we had reached a place where we could rest, I
pulled myself up. There was a ledge, sloping slightly down
towards the back and so quite invisible from the other side
of the mountain range. At first glance the ledge appeared
to be about ten feet wide. I did not stop to see further, but
knelt so that I could help the others up, one by one. Soon
we stood together, shivering in the wind after our exertion.
Quite obviously the rock fall had uncovered this ledge, and
—as I peered more closely, there was a narrow crevice in
the mountain wall. Was there? From where we stood it
might have been a shadow, or the stain of dark lichen. As
one, we moved forward. It was a crevice, one that was
about two feet six inches wide by about five feet high. Of
my Teacher there was no sign.” I could visualize the scene
well. But this was not the time for introspection. I did not
want to miss a word!
“I stepped back to see if my Teacher had climbed
higher,” my Guide went on, “but there was no sign of him.
Fearfully I peered into the crevice. It was as dark as the
grave. Inch by inch, painfully bent, I moved inside. About
fifteen feet in I turned a very sharp corner, another, and
then another. Had I not been paralyzed with fright I would
have screamed with surprise; here was light, a soft silvery
light, brighter than the brightest moonlight. Light that I had
never seen before. The cave in which I now found myself
was spacious, with a roof invisible in the darkness above.
One of my companions pushed me out of the way and was
in turn pushed by another. Soon the four of us stood silent
and frightened gazing at the fantastic sight before us. A
sight which would have made any one of us alone think
that he had taken leave of his senses. The cave was more
like an immense hall, it stretched away in the distance as
if the mountain itself was hollow. The light was everywhere,
beating down upon us from a number of globes which
appeared to be suspended from the darkness of the roof.
Strange machines crammed the place machines such as we
could not have imagined. Even from the high roof depended
apparatus and mechanisms. Some, I saw with great amazment,
were covered by what appeared to be the clearest of
glass.” My eyes must have been round with amazement,
for the Lama smiled at me before resuming his story.
“By now we had quite forgotten my Teacher, when he
suddenly appeared we jumped straight off the ground in
fright! He chuckled at our staring eyes and stricken faces.
Now, we saw, he was no longer in the grip of that strange,
overpowering compulsion. Together we wandered round
looking at the strange machines. To us they had no meaning,
they were just collections of metal and fabric in strange,
exotic form. My Teacher moved toward a rather large black
panel apparently built into one of the walls of the cave.
As he was about to feel its surface it swung open. By now
we were almost at the point of believing that the whole
place was bewitched, or that we had fallen prey to some
hallucinating force. My Teacher jumped back in some
alarm. The black panel swung shut. Greatly daring one of
my companions stretched out his hand and the panel swung
open again. A force which we could not resist propelled
us forward. Uselessly fighting against every step, we were—
somehow—made to enter through the panel doorway. Inside
it was dark, as dark as the darkness of a hermit's cell.
Still under the irresistible compulsion, we moved in many
feet and then sat on the floor. For minutes we sat shivering
with fright. As nothing happened we regained some calmness,
and then we heard a series of clicks, as if metal were
tapping and scraping on metal.” Involuntarily I shivered.
I had the thought that I probably would have died of
fright! My Guide continued.
“Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a misty glow formed in
the darkness before us. At first it was just a suspicion of
blue-pink light, almost as if a ghost were materializing
before our gaze. The mist-light spread, becoming brighter
so that we could see the outlines of incredible machines
filling this large hall, all except the centre of the floor upon
which we sat. The light drew in upon itself, swirling, fading,
and becoming brighter and then it formed and remained
in spherical shape. I had the strange and unexplainable impression
of age-old machinery creaking slowly into motion
after eons of time. The five of us huddled together on the
floor, literally spellbound. There came a probing inside my
brain, as if demented telepathic lamas were playing, then
the impression changed and became as clear as speech.”
My Guide cleared his throat, and reached again for a
drink, staying his hand in mid-air. “Let us have tea, Lobsang,”
he said as he rang his silver bell. The monkattendant
obviously knew what was wanted, for he came in
with tea—and cakes!
“Within the sphere of light we saw pictures,” said the
Lama Mingyar Dondup, “hazy at first, they soon cleared
and ceased to be pictures. Instead we actually saw the
events.” I could contain myself no longer: “But Honourable
Lama, what did you see?” I asked in a fever of impatience.
The Lama reached forward and poured himself
more tea. It occurred to me then that I had never seen him
eat those Indian sweet cakes. Tea, yes, he drank plenty of
tea, but I had never known him take anything but the
most sparing and the plainest of food. The gongs went for
temple service, but the Lama did not stir. When the last of
the monks had hurried by he sighed deeply, and said, “Now
I will continue.”
He resumed, “This is what we saw and heard, and you
shall see and hear in the not too distant future. Thousands
and thousands of years ago there was a high civilization
upon this world. Men could fly through the air in machines
which defied gravity; men were able to make machines
which would impress thoughts upon the minds of others—
thoughts which would appear as pictures. They had nuclear
fission, and at last they detonated a bomb which all but
wrecked the world, causing continents to sink below the
oceans and others to rise. The world was decimated, and
so, throughout the religions of this Earth we now have the
story of the Flood.” I was unimpressed by this latter part.
“Sir!” I exclaimed, “we can see pictures like that in the
Akashic Record. Why struggle up dangerous mountains
just to see what we can more easily experience here?”
“Lobsang,” said my Guide gravely, “we can see all in the
astral and in the Akashic Record, for the latter contains
the knowledge of all that has happened. We can see but
we cannot touch. In astral travel we can go places and
return, but we cannot touch anything of the world. We cannot,”
he smiled slightly, “take even a spare robe nor bring
back a flower. So with the Akashic Record, we can see all,
but we cannot examine in close detail those strange
machines stored in those mountain halls. We are going to
the mountains, and we are going to examine the machines.”
“How strange,” I said, “that these machines should of all
the world be only in our country!” “Oh! But you are
wrong!” explained my Guide. “There is a similar chamber
at a certain place in the country of Egypt. There is another
chamber with identical machines located in a place called
South America. I have seen them, I know where they are.
These secret chambers were concealed by the peoples of
old so that their artifacts would be found by a later generation
when the time was ready. This sudden rock fall
accidentally bared the entrance to the chamber in Tibet,
and once inside we gained the knowledge of the other
chambers. But the day is far advanced. Soon seven of us -
and that includes you—will set out and journey once again
to the Cave of the Ancients.”
For days I was in a fever of excitement. I had to keep
my knowledge to myself. Others were to know that we
were going to the mountains on a herb-gathering expedition.
Even in such a secluded place as Lhasa there were
always those on the constant lookout for financial gain;
the representatives of other countries such as China, Russia,
and England, some missionaries, and the traders who came
from India, they were all ready to listen to where we kept
our gold and our jewels, always ready to exploit anything
that promised a profit for them. So—we kept the true
nature of our expedition very secret indeed.
Some two weeks after that talk with the Lama Mingyar
Dondup, we were ready to depart, ready for the long, long
climb up the mountains, through little known ravines and
craggy paths. The Communists are now in Tibet, so the
location of the Cave of the Ancients is deliberately being
concealed, for the Cave is a very real place indeed, and
possession of the artifacts there would permit the Communists
to conquer the world. All this, all that I write is
true, except the exact way to that Cave. In a secret place
the precise area, complete with references and sketches, has
been noted on paper so that — when the time comes — forces
of freedom can find the place.
Slowly we descended the path from Chakpori Lamasery
and made our way along to the Kashya Linga, passing that
Park as we followed the road down to the ferry where the
boatman was waiting for us with his inflated yak-hide boat
drawn to the side. There were seven of us, including me,
and the crossing of the River—the Kyi Chu—took some
time. Eventually we were together again on the far bank.
Shouldering our loads, food, rope, a spare robe each, and
a few metal tools, we set out towards the south-west. We
walked until the setting sun and lengthening shadows made
it difficult for us to pick our way across the stony path.
Then, in the gathering darkness, we had a modest meal of
tsampa before settling down to sleep in the lee side of great
boulders. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head rested
upon my spare robe. Many Tibetan monks of lama grade
slept sitting up, as the regulations prescribe. I, and many
more slept lying down, but we had to follow the rule that
we could sleep only if lying on the right side. My last sight
before dropping off to sleep, was that of the Lama Mingyar
Dondup sitting like a carved statue against the dark night
At the first light of the dawning day we awakened and
had a very frugal meal, then taking up our loads, we
marched on. For the whole day we walked, and for the day
after. Passing the foothills, we came to the really mountainous
ranges. Soon we were reduced to roping ourselves
together and sending the lightest man—me!—across
dangerous crevices first so that the ropes could be secured
to rock pinnacles and thus afford safe passage to the heavier
men. So we forged on, climbing up into the mountains. At
last, as we stood at the foot of a mighty rock-face almost
devoid of hand and foot holds, my Guide said, “Over this
slab, down the other side, across the little valley which we
shall find, and we are then at the foot of the Cave.” We
prowled round the base of the slab looking for a hand hold.
Apparently other rock falls throughout the years had
obliterated small ledges and clefts. After wasting almost a
day we found a “chimney” of rock up which we climbed
using hands and feet and wedging our backs against the
other side of the “chimney”. Gasping and puffing in the
rarefied air, we climbed to the top and looked over. At last
before us was the valley. Staring intently at the far wall we
could discern no cave, no fissure in the smooth rock surface.
The valley below us was littered with great boulders and—
far worse—a rushing mountain stream poured along the
Gingerly we climbed down to the valley and made our
way to the banks of that fast-running stream until we came
to a part where great boulders afforded a precarious passage
for those with the ability to leap from rock to rock.
I, being the smallest, had not the length of leg for the
jumps, and so was ignominiously hauled through the icy
torrent at the end of a rope. Another unfortunate, a small
somewhat rotund lama, jumped short—and he too was
hauled out at the end of a rope. On the far bank we wrung
out our soaked robes and put them on again. Spray made
all of us wet to the skin. Picking our way cautiously over
the boulders, we crossed the valley and approached the final
barrier, the rock slab. My Guide, the Lama Mingyar
Dondup, pointed to a fresh rock scar. “Look!” he said, “a
further rock fall has knocked off the first ledge by which we
climbed.” We stood well back, trying to get a view of the
ascent before us. The first ledge was about twelve feet above
the ground, and there was no other way. The tallest and
sturdiest lama stood with his arms outstretched, bracing
himself against the rock face, then the lightest of the lamas
climbed on to his shoulders and similarly braced himself.
At last I was lifted up so that I could climb on to the shoulders
of the top man. With a rope around my waist, I eased
myself on to the ledge.
Below me the monks called directions, while slowly,
almost dying with fright, I climbed higher until I could loop
the end of the rope around a projecting pinnacle of rock.
I crouched to the side of the ledge as one after the other,
the six lamas climbed the rope, passed me, and continued,
upwards. The last one untied the rope, coiled it around his
waist, and followed the others. Soon the end of the rope
dangled before me, and a shout warned me to tie a loop
about myself so that I could be hauled up. My height was
not sufficient to reach all the ledges unaided. I rested again
at a much higher stage, and the rope was carried upwards.
At last I was hauled to the topmost ledge where the others
of the party awaited me. Being kind and considerate men,
they had waited for me so that we could all enter the Cave
together, and I confess that my heart warmed at their
thoughtfulness. “Now we have hauled up the Mascot we
can continue!” growled one. “Yes,” I replied, “but the
smallest one had to move first or you would not be here!”
They laughed, and turned to the well-concealed crevice.
I looked in considerable astonishment. At first I could
not see the entrance, all I saw was a dark shadow looking
much like a dried-up watercourse, or the stain of minute
lichen. Then, as we crossed the ledge, I saw that there was
indeed a crack in the rock face. A big lama grabbed me
by the shoulders and pushed me into the rock fissure saying,
good-naturedly, “You go first, and then you can chase out
any rock devils and so protect us!” So I, the smallest and
least important of the party, was the first to enter the Cave
of the Ancients. I edged inside, and crept round the rock
corners. Behind me I heard the shuffle and scrape as the
bulkier men felt their way in. Suddenly the light burst upon
me, for the moment almost paralyzing me with fright. I
stood motionless by the rocky wall, gazing at the fantastic
scene within. The Cave appeared to be about twice as large
as the interior of the Great Cathedral of Lhasa. Unlike that
Cathedral, which always was enshrouded in the dusk which
butter lamps tried vainly to dispel, here was brightness more
intense than that of the full moon on a cloudless night. No,
it was much brighter than that; the quality of the light
must have given me the impression of moonlight. I gazed
upwards at the globes which provided the illumination. The
lamas crowded in beside me, and, like me, they gazed at
the source of light first. My Guide said, “The old records
indicate that the illumination here was originally much
brighter, these lamps are burning low with the passage of
hundreds of centuries.”
For long moments we stood still, silent, as though afraid
of waking those who slept throughout the endless years.
Then, moved by a common impulse, walked across the
solid stone floor to the first machine standing dormant
before us. We crowded around it, half afraid to touch it
yet very curious as to what it could be. It was dulled with
age, yet it appeared ready for instant use—if one knew
what it was for and how to operate it. Other devices engaged
our attention, also without result. These machines
were far far too advanced for us, I wandered off to where
a small square platform of about three feet wide, with
guard rails, rested on the ground. What appeared to be a
long, folded metal tube extended from a nearby machine,
and the platform was attached to the other end of the tube.
Idly I stepped on to the railed square, wondering what it
could be. The next instant I almost died of shock; the platform
gave a little tremor and rose high into the air. I was
so frightened that I clung in desperation to the rails.
Below me the six lamas gazed upwards in consternation.
The tube had unfolded and was swinging the platform
straight to one of the spheres of light. In desperation I
looked over the side. Already I was some thirty feet in the
air, and rising. My fear was that the source of light would
burn me to a crisp, like a moth in the flame of a butter
lamp. There was a “click” and the platform stopped.
Inches from my face the light glowed. Timidly I stretched
out my hand — and the whole sphere was as cold as ice.
By now I had regained my composure somewhat, and I
gazed about me. Then a chilling thought struck me; how
was I going to get down? I jumped from side to side, trying
to work out a way of escape, but there appeared to be
none. I tried to reach the long tube, hoping to climb down,
but it was too far away. Just when I was becoming desperate,
there was another tremor, and the platform started
to descend. Hardly waiting for it to touch ground I leaped
out! I was taking no risks that the thing would go up again.
Against a far wall crouched a great statue, one that sent
a shiver up my spine. It was of a crouching cat body, but
with the head and shoulders of a woman. The eyes appeared
to be alive; the face had a half-mocking, half-quizzical
expression which rather frightened me. One of the lamas
was on his knees on the floor, gazing intently at some
strange marks. “Look!” he called, “this picture-writing
shows men and cats talking, it shows what is obviously the
soul leaving a body and wandering in the under-world.” He
was consumed with scientific zeal, poring over the pictures
on the floor—“hieroglyphs” he called them—and expecting
everyone else to be similarly enthused. This Lama was
a highly trained man, one who learned ancient languages
without any difficulties at all. The others were poking
around the strange machines, trying to decide what they
were for. A sudden shout made us wheel round in some
alarm. The tall thin Lama was at the far wall and he seemed
to have his face stuck in a dull metal box. He stood there
with his head bent and the whole of his face concealed.
Two men rushed to him and dragged him away from the
danger. He uttered a roar of wrath and dashed back!
“Strange!” I thought, “even the sedate, learned lamas
are going crazy in this place!” Then the tall, thin one
moved aside and another took his place. So far as I could
gather, they were seeing moving machines in that box. At
last my Guide took pity on me and lifted me up to what
apparently were “eye pieces”. As I was lifted up and put
my hands on a handle as instructed, I saw inside the box,
men, and the machines which were in this Hall. The men
were operating the machines. I saw that the platform upon
which I had ascended to the light-sphere could be controlled
and was a type of moveable “ladder” or rather a device
which would dispense with ladders. Most of the machines
here, I observed, were actual working models such as, in
later years, I was to see in Science Museums throughout
the world.
We moved to the panel which the Lama Mingyar Dondup
had told me about previously, and at our approach it
opened with a grating creak, so loud in the silence of the
place that I think we all jumped with alarm. Inside was the
darkness, profound, almost as if we had clouds of blackness
swirling about us. Our feet were guided by shallow channels
in the floor. We shuffled along, and when the channels
ended we sat. As we did so, there came a series of clicks,
like metal scraping against metal, and almost imperceptibly
light stole across the darkness and pushed it aside. We
looked about us and saw more machines, strange machines.
There were statues here, and pictures carved in metal.
Before we had time to more than glance, the light drew in
upon itself and formed a glowing globe in the centre of the
Hall. Colours flickered aimlessly, and bands of light without
apparent meaning swirled round the globe. Pictures
formed, at first blurred and indistinct, then growing vivid
and real and with three-dimensional effect. We watched
intently .
This was the world of Long Long Ago. When the world
was very young. Mountains stood where now there are
seas, and the pleasant seaside resorts are now mountain
tops. The weather was warmer and strange creatures
roamed afield. This was a world of scientific progress.
Strange machines rolled along, flew inches from the surface
of the Earth, or flew miles up in the air. Great temples
reared their pinnacles skywards, as if in challenge to the
clouds. Animals and Man talked telepathically together.
But all was not bliss; politicians fought against politicians.
The world was a divided camp in which each side coveted
the lands of the other. Suspicion and fear were the clouds
under which the ordinary man lived. Priests of both sides
proclaimed that they alone were the favoured of the gods.
In the pictures before us we saw ranting priests—as now—
purveying their own brand of salvation. At a price! Priests
of each sect taught that it was a “holy duty” to kill the
enemy. Almost in the same breath they preached that Mankind
throughout the world were brothers. The illogicality
of brother killing brother did not occur to them.
We saw great wars fought, with most of the casualties
being civilians. The armed forces, safe behind their armour,
were mostly safe. The aged, the women and children, those
who did not fight, were the ones to suffer. We saw glimpses
of scientists working in laboratories, working to produce
even deadlier weapons, working to produce bigger and
better bugs to drop on the enemy. One sequence of pictures
showed a group of thoughtful men planning what they
termed a “Time Capsule” (what we called “The Cave of
the Ancients”), wherein they could store for later generations
working models of their machines and a complete,
pictorial record of their culture and lack of it. Immense
machines excavated the living rock. Hordes of men installed
the models and the machines. We saw the cold-light
spheres hoisted in place, inert radio-active substances giving
off light for millions of years. Inert in that it could not harm
humans, active in that the light would continue almost
until the end of Time itself.
We found that we could understand the language, then
the explanation was shown, that we were obtaining the
“speech” telepathically. Chambers such as this, or “Time
Capsules”, were concealed beneath the sands of Egypt,
beneath a pyramid in South America, and at a certain spot
in Siberia. Each place was marked by the symbol of the
times; the Sphinx. We saw the great statues of the Sphinx,
which did not originate in Egypt, and we received an explanation
of its form. Man and animals talked and worked
together in those far-off days. The cat was the most perfect
animal for power and intelligence. Man himself is an
animal, so the Ancients made a figure of a large cat body
to indicate power and endurance, and upon the body they
put the breasts and head of a woman. The head was to
indicate human intelligence and reason, while the breasts
indicated that Man and Animal could draw spiritual and
mental nourishment each from the other. That Symbol was
then as common as is Statues of Buddha, or the Star of
David, or the Crucifix at the present day.
We saw oceans with great floating cities which moved
from land to land. In the sky floated equally large craft
which moved without sound. Which could hover, and
almost instantly flash into stupendous speed. On the surface
vehicles moved some inches above the ground itself, supported
in the air by some method which we could not
determine. Bridges stretched across the cities carrying on
slender cables what appeared to be roadways. As we
watched we saw a vivid flash in the sky, and one of the
largest bridges collapsed into a tangle of girders and cables.
Another flash, and most of the city itself vanished into
incandescent gas. Above the ruins towered a strangely
evil-looking red cloud, roughly in the shape of a mushroom
miles high.
Our pictures faded, and we saw again the group of men
who had planned the "Time Capsules". They had decided
that now was the time to seal them. We saw the ceremonies,
we saw the "stored memories" being fitted into the machine.
We heard the speech of farewell which told us—“The
People of the Future, if there be any!”—that Mankind was
about to destroy itself, or such seemed probable, “and
within these vaults are stored such records of our achievements
and follies as may benefit those of a future race who
have the intelligence to discover it, and having discovered
it, be able to understand it.” The telepathic voice faded out
the picture screen turned black. We sat in silence, stupefied
by what we had seen. Later, as we sat, the light grew again
and we saw that it was actually coming from the walls of
that room.
We rose and looked about us. This Hall was also littered
with machines and there were many models of cities and
bridges, all formed of some kind of stone or of some type
of metal the nature of which we were unable to determine.
Certain of the exhibits were protected by some quite transparent
material which baffled us: It was not glass; we just
did not know what the stuff was, all we knew was that it
effectively prevented us from touching some of the models.
Suddenly we all jumped; a baleful red eye was watching us,
winking at us. I was prepared to run for it when my Guide
the Lama Mingyar Dondup strode over to the machine with
the red eye. He looked down at it and touched the handles.
The red eye vanished. Instead on a small screen we saw
a picture of another room leading from the Main Hall.
Into our brains came a message, “As you leave, go to the
room (???) where you will find materials with which to
seal any opening through which you entered. If you have
not reached the stage of evolution where you can work our
machines, seal this place and leave it intact for those who
will come later.”
Silently we filed out into the third room, the door of
which opened at our approach. It contained many carefully
sealed canisters and a “picture-thought” machine which
described for us how we might open the canisters and seal
the Cave entrance. We sat upon the floor and discussed
that which we had seen and experienced. “Wonderful!
Wonderful!” said a lama. “Don't see anything wonderful
in it,” said I, brashly. “We could have seen all that by
looking at the Akashic Record. Why should we not look at
those time-stream pictures and see what happened after this
place was sealed up?” The others turned enquiringly to the
senior of the party, the Lama Mingyar Dondup. He nodded
slightly and remarked, “Sometimes our Lobsang shows
glimmerings of intelligence! Let us compose ourselves and
see what happened, for I am as curious as you.” We sat in
a rough circle, each facing in, and with our fingers interlocked
in the appropriate pattern. My Guide started the
necessary breathing rhythm and we all followed his lead.
Slowly we lost our Earth identities and became as one
floating in the Sea of Time. All that has ever happened can
be seen by those who have the ability to consciously go into
the astral and return—conscious—with the knowledge
gained. Any scene in history, from an age no matter how
remote, can be seen as if one were actually there.
I remembered the first time I had experienced the
“Akashic Record.” My Guide had been telling me about
such things, and I had replied, “Yes, but what is it? How
does it work? How can one get in touch with things that
have passed, that are finished and gone?” “Lobsang!” he
had replied, “you will agree that you have a memory. You
can remember what happened yesterday, and the day
before, and the day before that. With a little training you
can remember everything that has happened in your life,
you can, with training remember even the process of being
born. You can have what we term ‘total recall’ and that
will take your memory back to before you were born. The
Akashic Record is merely the ‘memory’ of the whole world.
Everything that has ever happened on this Earth can be
‘recalled’ in just the same way as you can remember past
events in your life. There is no magic involved, but we will
deal with that and hypnotism—a closely related subject—
at a later date.”
With our training it was easy indeed to select the point
at which the Machine had faded out its pictures. We saw
the procession of men and women, notables of that time
no doubt, file out of the Cave. Machines with vast arms
slid what appeared to be half a mountain over the entrance.
The cracks and crevices where surfaces met were carefully
sealed, and the group of people and the workmen went
away. Machines rolled into the distance and for a time,
some months, the scene was quiet. We saw a high priest
standing on the steps of an immense Pyramid, exhorting his
listeners to war. The pictures impressed upon the Scrolls of
Time rolled on, changed, and we saw the opposing camp.
Saw the leaders ranting and raving. Time moved on. We
saw streaks of white vapor in the blue of the skies, and
then those skies turned red. The whole world trembled and
shook. We, watching, experienced vertigo. The darkness of
the night fell over the world. Black clouds, shot with vivid
flames, rolled around the whole globe. Cities flamed briefly
and were gone.
Across the land surged the raging seas. Sweeping all
before it, a giant wave, taller than the tallest building had
been, roared across the land, its crest bearing aloft the flotsam
of a dying civilization,. The Earth shook and thundered
in agony, great chasms appeared and closed again like the
gaping maws of a giant. The mountains waved like willow
twigs in a storm, waved, and sank beneath the seas. Land
masses rose from the waters and became mountains. The
whole surface of the world was in a state of change, of
learn something. Then, our mission accomplished, we
continuous motion. A few scattered survivors, out of miIlions,
fled shrieking to the newly risen mountains. Others,
afloat in ships that somehow survived the upheaval, reached
the high ground and fled into any hiding place they could
find. The Earth itself stood still, stopped its direction of
rotation, and then turned in the opposite direction. Forests
flashed from trees to scattered ash in the twinkling of an
eye. The surface of the Earth was desolate, ruined, charred
to a black crisp. Deep in holes, or in the lava-tunnels of
extinct volcanoes, a scattered handful of Earth's population,
driven insane by the catastrophe, cowered and gibbered
in their terror. From the black skies fell a whitish
substance, sweet to the taste, sustaining of life.
In the course of centuries the Earth changed again; the
seas were now land, and the lands that had been were now
seas. A low-lying plain had its rocky walls cracked and
sundered, and the waters rushed in to form the Sea now
known as the Mediterranean. Another sea nearby sank
through a gap in the sea bed, and as the waters left and
the bed dried, the Sahara Desert was formed. Over the face
of the Earth wandered wild tribes who, by the light of their
camp fires, told of the old legends, told of the Flood of
Lemuria, and Atlantis. They told, too, of the day the Sun
Stood Still.
The Cave of the Ancients lay buried in the silt of a halfdrowned
world. Safe from intruders, it rested far beneath
the surface of the land. In course of time, fast-running
streams would wash away the silt, the debris, and allow
the rocks to stand forth in the sunlight once more. At last,
heated by the sun and cooled by a sudden icy shower, the
rock face would split with thunderous noise and we would
be able to enter.
We shook ourselves, stretched our cramped limbs, and
rose wearily to our feet. The experience had been a shattering
one. Now we had to eat, to sleep, and on the morrow
we would look about us again so that we might perhaps
would wall up the entrance as directed. The Cave would
sleep again in peace until men of goodwill and high intelligence
would come again. I wandered to the Cave mouth
and looked down upon the desolation, upon the riven rocks,
and I wondered what a man of the Old Times would think
if he could rise from his grave to stand beside me, here.
As I turned in to the interior I marveled at the contrast;
a lama was lighting a fire with flint and tinder, igniting some
dried yak dung which we had brought for that purpose.
Around us were the machines and artifacts of a bygone age.
We—modern men—were heating water over a dung fire,
surrounded by such marvelous machines that they were
beyond our comprehension. I sighed, and turned my
thoughts to that of mixing tea and tsampa......

[Vrh] Go down
pećina predaka (eng)
Prethodna tema Sljedeća tema [Vrh] 
Stranica 1 / 1.
 Similar topics
» brodovi naših predaka

Permissions in this forum:Ne moľeą odgovarati na postove.
 ::  Misterije i neobjašnjivi fenomeni :: Alternativna povijest-