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After my dad died, a powerful and unexpected connection unfolded when my brother and I discovered the Men's Shed in Lethbridge — a community where men come together for connection, healing, and support. That's where I met Mark Vella.Mark turned out to be so much more than the man running the Men's Shed. Originally from Australia and now living in Canada, Mark is also a men's coach who helps guide men through deep healing work. He's a conscious father, a mentor, and someone who has walked through his own dark night of the soul — emerging with more presence, wisdom, and heart.His personal journey through grief, COVID isolation, and spiritual awakening led him to explore forgiveness across his family lineage and commit to showing up as a fully present parent and human being.Beyond his work with the Men's Shed and his coaching, Mark befriended my mom and has gone above and beyond with kindness and support during a time of deep loss — something I'll always be grateful for.In this conversation, we talk about: • The importance of brotherhood and community for men • The Men's Shed organization — a global movement supporting men's mental health, connection, and purpose (and how you can start one in your area) • How all healing is spiritual healing • The delicate art of meeting men where they are on their journey • Forgiveness work across generations • Conscious fatherhood and breaking generational cycles • Living with presence, purpose, and heartMark's story is rich with compassion, wisdom, and the grounded spiritual path of healing that so many men are longing for.Thank you for listening to Winning the Divine Lottery!If this episode moves you, share it with someone who needs it, tag me, and leave a review.We're creating ripples of transformation, one conversation at a time.Quantum Custom Soul Painting: https://www.amydawns.com/quantumsoulpaintingsBook Your Soul Reading with Me : https://www.amydawns.com/soulsessionsAsk Amy: https://www.amydawns.com/coachingalignmentMore About Mark:Mark Vella is a Certified Performance Development & Life Coach, the Founder of KHEM Wellness, and the Executive Director of the Men's Shed in Lethbridge & Coaldale, Southern Alberta. For the last three years, he has been dedicated to democratizing men's health and wellness, creating accessible support systems for men to heal, grow, and reclaim their authentic selves. With a solutions-driven mindset and a passion for improving the wellness of the people he works with, Mark brings leadership, innovation, and a deeply personal commitment to every endeavor he undertakes.https://www.facebook.com/markvella01https://www.facebook.com/mensshedslethbridgecoaldalehttps://www.facebook.com/KHEM.LIFEwww.instagram.com/khem.life
Sarah Elkhaldy "The Alchemist" joins us for an interview about the coming new timelines / predictions for 2025, as well as the revival of hermetic teachings, the lost wisdom from Atlantis, spiritual sovereignty, and the integration of esoteric wisdom. In this podcast, Emilio Ortiz and Sarah Elkhaldy explore the intricate concepts of timelines, densities, and personal growth through pain and awakening. They discuss the coexistence of different realities, the significance of understanding one's timeline, and the transformative power of mind-heart coherence. Sarah Elkhaldy is a mystic and spiritual teacher. She is widely known as a leader in the field of Spirituality and the Esoteric Arts. Sarah is highly claircognizant. She uses her intuitive abilities as well as her extensive background in esoteric knowledge to help humanity gracefully tap into our evolutionary potential. She considers it her work to connect the higher with the lower; the outer world with the inner world.Her spiritual teachings and deep insights into the nature of reality create energetic transmissions that activate her audience on a soul level. Her videos are well known for needing to be watched several times in order to fully extract the profound wisdom in each episode. With an online community consisting of hundreds of thousands of awakening souls, it is her highest honor to assist humanity's evolution. Sarah hosts retreats and seminars internationally on Alchemy, Ascension, and Shadow Work.___________________PODCAST CHAPTERS0:00 - The Alchemist Introduction02:19 - Hermetic Revival & the Return of Ancient Knowledge04:03 - Experiencing Unity Consciousness07:51 - Hive Mind vs. Spiritual Sovereignty09:42 - Karma of Atlantis and Lemuria10:33 - Learning Responsible Use of Technology12:30 - Power, Abuse, and David Hawkins' Teachings17:35 - Alchemical Symbolism of Milk and Honey17:59 - The Arc of the Covenant and Alchemy in the Brain21:27 - Evolution of Spiritual Initiations22:06 - Ancient Practices in Khem and the Merkabah23:13 - Light Body Activation and the Shift in Humanity28:01 - Experiential Learning of Discernment32:26 - Navigating Projections and Triggering Awakening36:26 - Objective Reality vs. Subjective Perception38:12 - Purification and the Art of Alchemy40:18 - The Chaos of 202542:43 - Wisdom of the Kybalion & Tuning into Higher Understanding48:50 - Mind-Heart Coherence as a Spiritual Initiation50:49 - Universe's Natural Law 52:20 - The Role of Revenge & the Paradox of Light and Dark58:55 - Changes in the Body Through Expanding Knowledge01:02:18 - Metaphor of the Spine and Archetypes01:04:16 - The High Priestess Archetype in Modern Times01:06:42 - Why Was Knowledge Hidden Throughout History?01:09:17 - The Role of Humanity in the Ascension Timeline01:10:23 - Activation of Gnosis and Collective Awakening01:13:12 - Understanding Timelines and Splitting Realities01:20:28 - Shifting to Higher Timelines Through Conscious Choices01:22:46 - The Gift of Pain and Learning to Embrace the Light01:27:57 - Expanding the Container for Truth and Purpose01:30:23 - The Importance of Truth in Discovering Your Calling01:31:19 - Sneak Peek into the Third Wave of Ascension01:33:12 - The Well of Darkness and Shadow Integration01:38:00 - The One Principle Behind the Hermetic Laws01:40:18 - Purifying Powerlessness for Alchemical Transformation___________________Guest: Sarah Elkhaldy, The Alchemist✦ Website | https://www.thealchemist.community/✦ Alchemical Energy Healing | https://www.thealchemist.community/en...✦ The Alchemist Soul Gatherings | https://www.thealchemist.community/ev...✦ Upcoming Retreat in Sedona | https://www.thealchemist.community/✦ YouTube | @officialthealchemist ✦ Instagram | / the.alchemist Host: Emilio Ortiz✦ Instagram | / iamemilioortiz ✦ Subscribe to YouTube Channel | @EmilioOrtiz ✦ Watch Emilio's latest series on 4biddenknowledge TV l https://bit.ly/AwakenThe6thSense
The US is no longer supporting Ukraine. And, in response, the UK and Europe are rearming. The Germans are taking off their hallowed debt brake to allow it. The French want a European Army. And Keir Starmer is talking tough about the capabilities of the British Armed Forces. In a world still dominated by the […]
Eluña - The Magic We Lost English: In this transmission, Eluña enters the pyramid of Meidoom in Egypt and channels the energy of a queen from the time of Khem. Queen Nefertari, as she calls herself, offers insights into the nature of pyramids and a glimpse into her life, both tragic and divine. Português: Nesta transmissão, Eluña entra na pirâmide de Meidoom no Egito e canaliza a energia de uma rainha da época de Khem. A rainha Nefertari, como ela se autodenomina, oferece insights sobre a natureza das pirâmides e um vislumbre de sua vida, tanto trágica quanto divina. Join The Circle https://www.elunanoelle.com/the-circle (Exclusive Channeled Videos, Live Q&As, Meditations & Early Access to Book a 1:1 Akashic Reading) Join The Next Live Meditation and Live Q&A https://www.elunanoelle.com/live Book an Akashic Reading https://www.elunanoelle.com/services/ Instagram / elunanoelle Website https://www.elunanoelle.com
If you listen to this podcast, chances are you've heard of the global target of “net zero emissions” by 2050. You've probably also heard about how off track we are from meeting it. But what if I told you we're even more off track than you might think, because thanks to some effective lobbying, governments don't have to count the emissions from their militaries, despite their being some of the world's foremost consumers of fossil fuels. Like me, you might be wondering how that happened, and what special treatment for the military might mean for our ability to tackle climate and ecological crisis. Here to answer these questions and many more is Khem Rogaly, Senior Researcher at Common Wealth, our partners in The Break Down. In today's episode, we break down the complex, often hidden, but vitally important relationship between militaries and the climate crisis, from their long-standing role in upholding the fossil fuel economy to the enormous extent to which governments prioritise military spending over other urgent tasks — not least addressing a climate crisis that makes us all more insecure.
Very dope update convo here with a Malton LEGEND! Khem stops in to give us some real stories about his travels, his strange family secret and more! Subscribe to our YouTube Channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSGbGTkweBvH79LnMha5bxg Big thanks to B3 from B3 Studio: https://www.instagram.com/prod.b3/ Thanks to Diamond Club: https://www.instagram.com/diamondclub_905/ Steamin Hot Grabba: https://www.instagram.com/steaminhotgrabba/ We Love Hip Hop: www.instagram.com/welovehiphopnetwork/ Friday: www.instagram.com/fridayrickydred/
Eluña joins the podcast to share her profound experience of channeling messages from the Akashic Records and insights regarding the collective consciousness awakening on the planet. Eluña is a student of the Universe, an Akashic channeler, and a psycho-spiritual healer. She is devoted to the esoteric teachings of the ancient mystery schools, walking and guiding as an initiate and conduit of the Divine. Eluña began by accessing the Akashic Records for herself, close friends, and then privately for clients. While she will forever be a humble student, Eluña serves the Creator and walks her path as a healer-teacher. She now has had decades of practice to hone her psychic abilities, enabling her to use her gifts in service. Eluña Noelle receives information visually, auditorily, energetically, and somatically when accessing higher realms. This allows for highly accurate readings to occur, and for several different beings to speak through her. Some of the beings she channels are Pleiadian Priestesses, the Arcturian Council, and a group who call themselves the Three Guides, Hermetic scholars from Atlantis and contemporaries of Thoth the Atlantean. ___________________ PODCAST CHAPTERS 00:00 - Eluña Trailer 01:05 - Eluña Opens Up With a Prayer 02:28 - Initiatic Pilgrimage to Egypt & Contemplation 05:50 - Inner Excavation / Exploring the Darkness 08:40 - The Meaning of Eluña's Name & Working with Children 13:21 - Connecting with Pleiadian Priestesses 15:40 - Accessing the Akashic Records 19:20 - Uncovering Lost Civilizations: Pyramids, Atlantis 22:20 - Eluña Shares a Past Lifetime in Lemuria 25:21 - The Activation of the Heart Wisdom 30:48 - The Process of Channeling the Three Guides 37:00 - Channeling Session Begins 38:17 - The Purpose of the Ancient City of Khem 42:50 - Utilizing Megalithic Structures for Spiritual Evolution 46:15 - The Re-emergence of Feminine Energy 48:50 - Thoth the Atlantean's Teachings & Where Humanity Is Headed 51:50 - Influence of Solar Flares & Planetary Alignments 55:55 - Humanity Becoming a Galactic Civilization 58:37 - Emotions, Grief, and Spiritual Awakenings 01:02:40 - The New Human Emerging 01:04:35 - New Systems Coming Online 01:06:30 - Channeled Message for the Young Leaders 01:08:38 - Highest Timeline For Humanity 01:11:00 - Favorite Memory From Atlantis 01:13:00 - Eluña Closes the Akashic Records 01:15:20 - Using Dr. Joe Dispenza Meditations 01:19:00 - Atlantean School System & Technology 01:27:37 - The Split in Consciousness: Lemuria and Atlantis 01:33:55 - Meeting Different Beings in the Universe 01:37:45 - Vision for the Future 01:41:10 - The Final Trio ___________________ Guest: Eluña, Akashic Records Channeler Website | https://elunanoelle.com/ YouTube Channel | @elunanoelle Channeled Readings | https://elunanoelle.com/services/ Guided Meditations | https://elunanoelle.com/kuanyinmeditation/ Live Q&A's | https://elunanoelle.com/qa/ Join Eluña on An Initiatic Journey to Egypt | https://elunanoelle.com/journeys/ Host: Emilio Ortiz Instagram | https://www.instagram.com/iamemilioortiz/ Subscribe to YouTube Channel | @EmilioOrtiz Watch Emilio's latest series on 4biddenknowledge TV l https://bit.ly/AwakenThe6thSense Shop Our Clothing Collection l https://www.unlockedmovement.com/collections/justtapin ___________________ Special Offerings to Support the Show: ✦ Make a One-Time or Recurring Donation on PayPal
Eluña: The Great Pyramid, First Contact, & My Journey to Egypt // Channeled Message on 2024.04.20 In this video, the Three Guides reveal two functions of the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt (also known as Khem, or Khemet), which I was completely unfamiliar with. They spoke of the "Coming dawn of First Contact" and said the more people who are familiar with the energy of the Great Pyramid, the more prepared we will be as a whole. This feels like a secondary revealing of my purpose in going to Egypt: to be better prepared for First Contact! I share the details of my trip, including the magically synchronistic events that led me to this particular guide and pilgrimage. I am so looking forward to sharing more with you as everything unfolds in real time!
Tonight we're getting deep with Khem, Wela, and the most refreshing throuple storyline in all of BL. We're talking Deep Night! Comment, like & subscribe on YouTube FOLLOW US IF YOU WOULD CALL 911 OVER SHOGUN TOO: IG: @letstalkBL X: @letstalkBL TikTok: @letstalkBL
Stress Kiamna Ding Ante // Health talk.Kawikawi + Nang Ding ZAng Ning // Chin Gospel Songs.
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Zing sang an in bang na huan Hiam // Health talk.Kawikawi + Tangthu ngaih pen // Chin Gospel Songs.
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/biography
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/south-asian-studies
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/religion
Dr. Alice Collett's monograph Lives of Early Buddhist Nuns: Biographies as History (Oxford University Press, 2016) delves into the lives of six of the best-known nuns from the period of early Buddhism: Dhammadinnā, Khemā, Kisāgotamī, Paṭācārā, Bhaddā Kuṇḍalakesā, and Uppalavaṇṇā, all of whom are said to have been direct disciples of the historical Buddha. Collett does the thankless task of sorting through the biographical information scattered throughout the canonical and commentarial literature to present a richly textured account of the these six extraordinary women's lives. She further analyzes the differences between the various biographical accounts to glean historical information about the position of women and changing gender relations in the early centuries of Buddhism in India. One of the main contributions of her monograph is the finding that women were treated more favorably in the Pāli Canon than is commonly presented. She also gains insight into an impressive number of other themes ranging from notions of beauty and bodily adornment, to family, class, and marriage. This book is sure to be of value to a wide audience, especially those interested in women in Buddhism, early Buddhism and early Indian society. Alex Carroll studies Buddhist Studies at the University of South Wales and is primarily interested in Theravāda and early Buddhism. He lives in Oslo, Norway and can be reached via his website here.
On this episode of Buddycast, meet our new buddies Khem and Daniel, two local entrepreneurs from Mercyhurst University starting up their very own social media business. Learn about their new business adventures and how these two students can help you right here on the show that everybuddy knows and trusts, Buddycast! #gobesomeonesbuddy --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/nick-sorensen/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/nick-sorensen/support
The Haunter of the Dark By H. P. Lovecraft (Dedicated to Robert Bloch) I have seen the dark universe yawning Where the black planets roll without aim— Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge or lustre or name. —Nemesis. Cautious investigators will hesitate to challenge the common belief that Robert Blake was killed by lightning, or by some profound nervous shock derived from an electrical discharge. It is true that the window he faced was unbroken, but Nature has shewn herself capable of many freakish performances. The expression on his face may easily have arisen from some obscure muscular source unrelated to anything he saw, while the entries in his diary are clearly the result of a fantastic imagination aroused by certain local superstitions and by certain old matters he had uncovered. As for the anomalous conditions at the deserted church on Federal Hill—the shrewd analyst is not slow in attributing them to some charlatanry, conscious or unconscious, with at least some of which Blake was secretly connected. For after all, the victim was a writer and painter wholly devoted to the field of myth, dream, terror, and superstition, and avid in his quest for scenes and effects of a bizarre, spectral sort. His earlier stay in the city—a visit to a strange old man as deeply given to occult and forbidden lore as he—had ended amidst death and flame, and it must have been some morbid instinct which drew him back from his home in Milwaukee. He may have known of the old stories despite his statements to the contrary in the diary, and his death may have nipped in the bud some stupendous hoax destined to have a literary reflection. Among those, however, who have examined and correlated all this evidence, there remain several who cling to less rational and commonplace theories. They are inclined to take much of Blake's diary at its face value, and point significantly to certain facts such as the undoubted genuineness of the old church record, the verified existence of the disliked and unorthodox Starry Wisdom sect prior to 1877, the recorded disappearance of an inquisitive reporter named Edwin M. Lillibridge in 1893, and—above all—the look of monstrous, transfiguring fear on the face of the young writer when he died. It was one of these believers who, moved to fanatical extremes, threw into the bay the curiously angled stone and its strangely adorned metal box found in the old church steeple—the black windowless steeple, and not the tower where Blake's diary said those things originally were. Though widely censured both officially and unofficially, this man—a reputable physician with a taste for odd folklore—averred that he had rid the earth of something too dangerous to rest upon it. Between these two schools of opinion the reader must judge for himself. The papers have given the tangible details from a sceptical angle, leaving for others the drawing of the picture as Robert Blake saw it—or thought he saw it—or pretended to see it. Now, studying the diary closely, dispassionately, and at leisure, let us summarise the dark chain of events from the expressed point of view of their chief actor. Young Blake returned to Providence in the winter of 1934–5, taking the upper floor of a venerable dwelling in a grassy court off College Street—on the crest of the great eastward hill near the Brown University campus and behind the marble John Hay Library. It was a cosy and fascinating place, in a little garden oasis of village-like antiquity where huge, friendly cats sunned themselves atop a convenient shed. The square Georgian house had a monitor roof, classic doorway with fan carving, small-paned windows, and all the other earmarks of early nineteenth-century workmanship. Inside were six-panelled doors, wide floor-boards, a curving colonial staircase, white Adam-period mantels, and a rear set of rooms three steps below the general level. Blake's study, a large southwest chamber, overlooked the front garden on one side, while its west windows—before one of which he had his desk—faced off from the brow of the hill and commanded a splendid view of the lower town's outspread roofs and of the mystical sunsets that flamed behind them. On the far horizon were the open countryside's purple slopes. Against these, some two miles away, rose the spectral hump of Federal Hill, bristling with huddled roofs and steeples whose remote outlines wavered mysteriously, taking fantastic forms as the smoke of the city swirled up and enmeshed them. Blake had a curious sense that he was looking upon some unknown, ethereal world which might or might not vanish in dream if ever he tried to seek it out and enter it in person. Having sent home for most of his books, Blake bought some antique furniture suitable to his quarters and settled down to write and paint—living alone, and attending to the simple housework himself. His studio was in a north attic room, where the panes of the monitor roof furnished admirable lighting. During that first winter he produced five of his best-known short stories—“The Burrower Beneath”, “The Stairs in the Crypt”, “Shaggai”, “In the Vale of Pnath”, and “The Feaster from the Stars”—and painted seven canvases; studies of nameless, unhuman monsters, and profoundly alien, non-terrestrial landscapes. At sunset he would often sit at his desk and gaze dreamily off at the outspread west—the dark towers of Memorial Hall just below, the Georgian court-house belfry, the lofty pinnacles of the downtown section, and that shimmering, spire-crowned mound in the distance whose unknown streets and labyrinthine gables so potently provoked his fancy. From his few local acquaintances he learned that the far-off slope was a vast Italian quarter, though most of the houses were remnants of older Yankee and Irish days. Now and then he would train his field-glasses on that spectral, unreachable world beyond the curling smoke; picking out individual roofs and chimneys and steeples, and speculating upon the bizarre and curious mysteries they might house. Even with optical aid Federal Hill seemed somehow alien, half fabulous, and linked to the unreal, intangible marvels of Blake's own tales and pictures. The feeling would persist long after the hill had faded into the violet, lamp-starred twilight, and the court-house floodlights and the red Industrial Trust beacon had blazed up to make the night grotesque. Of all the distant objects on Federal Hill, a certain huge, dark church most fascinated Blake. It stood out with especial distinctness at certain hours of the day, and at sunset the great tower and tapering steeple loomed blackly against the flaming sky. It seemed to rest on especially high ground; for the grimy facade, and the obliquely seen north side with sloping roof and the tops of great pointed windows, rose boldly above the tangle of surrounding ridgepoles and chimney-pots. Peculiarly grim and austere, it appeared to be built of stone, stained and weathered with the smoke and storms of a century and more. The style, so far as the glass could shew, was that earliest experimental form of Gothic revival which preceded the stately Upjohn period and held over some of the outlines and proportions of the Georgian age. Perhaps it was reared around 1810 or 1815. As months passed, Blake watched the far-off, forbidding structure with an oddly mounting interest. Since the vast windows were never lighted, he knew that it must be vacant. The longer he watched, the more his imagination worked, till at length he began to fancy curious things. He believed that a vague, singular aura of desolation hovered over the place, so that even the pigeons and swallows shunned its smoky eaves. Around other towers and belfries his glass would reveal great flocks of birds, but here they never rested. At least, that is what he thought and set down in his diary. He pointed the place out to several friends, but none of them had even been on Federal Hill or possessed the faintest notion of what the church was or had been. In the spring a deep restlessness gripped Blake. He had begun his long-planned novel—based on a supposed survival of the witch-cult in Maine—but was strangely unable to make progress with it. More and more he would sit at his westward window and gaze at the distant hill and the black, frowning steeple shunned by the birds. When the delicate leaves came out on the garden boughs the world was filled with a new beauty, but Blake's restlessness was merely increased. It was then that he first thought of crossing the city and climbing bodily up that fabulous slope into the smoke-wreathed world of dream. Late in April, just before the aeon-shadowed Walpurgis time, Blake made his first trip into the unknown. Plodding through the endless downtown streets and the bleak, decayed squares beyond, he came finally upon the ascending avenue of century-worn steps, sagging Doric porches, and blear-paned cupolas which he felt must lead up to the long-known, unreachable world beyond the mists. There were dingy blue-and-white street signs which meant nothing to him, and presently he noted the strange, dark faces of the drifting crowds, and the foreign signs over curious shops in brown, decade-weathered buildings. Nowhere could he find any of the objects he had seen from afar; so that once more he half fancied that the Federal Hill of that distant view was a dream-world never to be trod by living human feet. Now and then a battered church facade or crumbling spire came in sight, but never the blackened pile that he sought. When he asked a shopkeeper about a great stone church the man smiled and shook his head, though he spoke English freely. As Blake climbed higher, the region seemed stranger and stranger, with bewildering mazes of brooding brown alleys leading eternally off to the south. He crossed two or three broad avenues, and once thought he glimpsed a familiar tower. Again he asked a merchant about the massive church of stone, and this time he could have sworn that the plea of ignorance was feigned. The dark man's face had a look of fear which he tried to hide, and Blake saw him make a curious sign with his right hand. Then suddenly a black spire stood out against the cloudy sky on his left, above the tiers of brown roofs lining the tangled southerly alleys. Blake knew at once what it was, and plunged toward it through the squalid, unpaved lanes that climbed from the avenue. Twice he lost his way, but he somehow dared not ask any of the patriarchs or housewives who sat on their doorsteps, or any of the children who shouted and played in the mud of the shadowy lanes. At last he saw the tower plain against the southwest, and a huge stone bulk rose darkly at the end of an alley. Presently he stood in a windswept open square, quaintly cobblestoned, with a high bank wall on the farther side. This was the end of his quest; for upon the wide, iron-railed, weed-grown plateau which the wall supported—a separate, lesser world raised fully six feet above the surrounding streets—there stood a grim, titan bulk whose identity, despite Blake's new perspective, was beyond dispute. The vacant church was in a state of great decrepitude. Some of the high stone buttresses had fallen, and several delicate finials lay half lost among the brown, neglected weeds and grasses. The sooty Gothic windows were largely unbroken, though many of the stone mullions were missing. Blake wondered how the obscurely painted panes could have survived so well, in view of the known habits of small boys the world over. The massive doors were intact and tightly closed. Around the top of the bank wall, fully enclosing the grounds, was a rusty iron fence whose gate—at the head of a flight of steps from the square—was visibly padlocked. The path from the gate to the building was completely overgrown. Desolation and decay hung like a pall above the place, and in the birdless eaves and black, ivyless walls Blake felt a touch of the dimly sinister beyond his power to define. There were very few people in the square, but Blake saw a policeman at the northerly end and approached him with questions about the church. He was a great wholesome Irishman, and it seemed odd that he would do little more than make the sign of the cross and mutter that people never spoke of that building. When Blake pressed him he said very hurriedly that the Italian priests warned everybody against it, vowing that a monstrous evil had once dwelt there and left its mark. He himself had heard dark whispers of it from his father, who recalled certain sounds and rumours from his boyhood. There had been a bad sect there in the ould days—an outlaw sect that called up awful things from some unknown gulf of night. It had taken a good priest to exorcise what had come, though there did be those who said that merely the light could do it. If Father O'Malley were alive there would be many the thing he could tell. But now there was nothing to do but let it alone. It hurt nobody now, and those that owned it were dead or far away. They had run away like rats after the threatening talk in '77, when people began to mind the way folks vanished now and then in the neighbourhood. Some day the city would step in and take the property for lack of heirs, but little good would come of anybody's touching it. Better it be left alone for the years to topple, lest things be stirred that ought to rest forever in their black abyss. After the policeman had gone Blake stood staring at the sullen steepled pile. It excited him to find that the structure seemed as sinister to others as to him, and he wondered what grain of truth might lie behind the old tales the bluecoat had repeated. Probably they were mere legends evoked by the evil look of the place, but even so, they were like a strange coming to life of one of his own stories. The afternoon sun came out from behind dispersing clouds, but seemed unable to light up the stained, sooty walls of the old temple that towered on its high plateau. It was odd that the green of spring had not touched the brown, withered growths in the raised, iron-fenced yard. Blake found himself edging nearer the raised area and examining the bank wall and rusted fence for possible avenues of ingress. There was a terrible lure about the blackened fane which was not to be resisted. The fence had no opening near the steps, but around on the north side were some missing bars. He could go up the steps and walk around on the narrow coping outside the fence till he came to the gap. If the people feared the place so wildly, he would encounter no interference. He was on the embankment and almost inside the fence before anyone noticed him. Then, looking down, he saw the few people in the square edging away and making the same sign with their right hands that the shopkeeper in the avenue had made. Several windows were slammed down, and a fat woman darted into the street and pulled some small children inside a rickety, unpainted house. The gap in the fence was very easy to pass through, and before long Blake found himself wading amidst the rotting, tangled growths of the deserted yard. Here and there the worn stump of a headstone told him that there had once been burials in this field; but that, he saw, must have been very long ago. The sheer bulk of the church was oppressive now that he was close to it, but he conquered his mood and approached to try the three great doors in the facade. All were securely locked, so he began a circuit of the Cyclopean building in quest of some minor and more penetrable opening. Even then he could not be sure that he wished to enter that haunt of desertion and shadow, yet the pull of its strangeness dragged him on automatically. A yawning and unprotected cellar window in the rear furnished the needed aperture. Peering in, Blake saw a subterrene gulf of cobwebs and dust faintly litten by the western sun's filtered rays. Debris, old barrels, and ruined boxes and furniture of numerous sorts met his eye, though over everything lay a shroud of dust which softened all sharp outlines. The rusted remains of a hot-air furnace shewed that the building had been used and kept in shape as late as mid-Victorian times. Acting almost without conscious initiative, Blake crawled through the window and let himself down to the dust-carpeted and debris-strown concrete floor. The vaulted cellar was a vast one, without partitions; and in a corner far to the right, amid dense shadows, he saw a black archway evidently leading upstairs. He felt a peculiar sense of oppression at being actually within the great spectral building, but kept it in check as he cautiously scouted about—finding a still-intact barrel amid the dust, and rolling it over to the open window to provide for his exit. Then, bracing himself, he crossed the wide, cobweb-festooned space toward the arch. Half choked with the omnipresent dust, and covered with ghostly gossamer fibres, he reached and began to climb the worn stone steps which rose into the darkness. He had no light, but groped carefully with his hands. After a sharp turn he felt a closed door ahead, and a little fumbling revealed its ancient latch. It opened inward, and beyond it he saw a dimly illumined corridor lined with worm-eaten panelling. Once on the ground floor, Blake began exploring in a rapid fashion. All the inner doors were unlocked, so that he freely passed from room to room. The colossal nave was an almost eldritch place with its drifts and mountains of dust over box pews, altar, hourglass pulpit, and sounding-board, and its titanic ropes of cobweb stretching among the pointed arches of the gallery and entwining the clustered Gothic columns. Over all this hushed desolation played a hideous leaden light as the declining afternoon sun sent its rays through the strange, half-blackened panes of the great apsidal windows. The paintings on those windows were so obscured by soot that Blake could scarcely decipher what they had represented, but from the little he could make out he did not like them. The designs were largely conventional, and his knowledge of obscure symbolism told him much concerning some of the ancient patterns. The few saints depicted bore expressions distinctly open to criticism, while one of the windows seemed to shew merely a dark space with spirals of curious luminosity scattered about in it. Turning away from the windows, Blake noticed that the cobwebbed cross above the altar was not of the ordinary kind, but resembled the primordial ankh or crux ansata of shadowy Egypt. In a rear vestry room beside the apse Blake found a rotting desk and ceiling-high shelves of mildewed, disintegrating books. Here for the first time he received a positive shock of objective horror, for the titles of those books told him much. They were the black, forbidden things which most sane people have never even heard of, or have heard of only in furtive, timorous whispers; the banned and dreaded repositories of equivocal secrets and immemorial formulae which have trickled down the stream of time from the days of man's youth, and the dim, fabulous days before man was. He had himself read many of them—a Latin version of the abhorred Necronomicon, the sinister Liber Ivonis, the infamous Cultes des Goules of Comte d'Erlette, the Unaussprechlichen Kulten of von Junzt, and old Ludvig Prinn's hellish De Vermis Mysteriis. But there were others he had known merely by reputation or not at all—the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Book of Dzyan, and a crumbling volume in wholly unidentifiable characters yet with certain symbols and diagrams shudderingly recognisable to the occult student. Clearly, the lingering local rumours had not lied. This place had once been the seat of an evil older than mankind and wider than the known universe. In the ruined desk was a small leather-bound record-book filled with entries in some odd cryptographic medium. The manuscript writing consisted of the common traditional symbols used today in astronomy and anciently in alchemy, astrology, and other dubious arts—the devices of the sun, moon, planets, aspects, and zodiacal signs—here massed in solid pages of text, with divisions and paragraphings suggesting that each symbol answered to some alphabetical letter. In the hope of later solving the cryptogram, Blake bore off this volume in his coat pocket. Many of the great tomes on the shelves fascinated him unutterably, and he felt tempted to borrow them at some later time. He wondered how they could have remained undisturbed so long. Was he the first to conquer the clutching, pervasive fear which had for nearly sixty years protected this deserted place from visitors? Having now thoroughly explored the ground floor, Blake ploughed again through the dust of the spectral nave to the front vestibule, where he had seen a door and staircase presumably leading up to the blackened tower and steeple—objects so long familiar to him at a distance. The ascent was a choking experience, for dust lay thick, while the spiders had done their worst in this constricted place. The staircase was a spiral with high, narrow wooden treads, and now and then Blake passed a clouded window looking dizzily out over the city. Though he had seen no ropes below, he expected to find a bell or peal of bells in the tower whose narrow, louver-boarded lancet windows his field-glass had studied so often. Here he was doomed to disappointment; for when he attained the top of the stairs he found the tower chamber vacant of chimes, and clearly devoted to vastly different purposes. The room, about fifteen feet square, was faintly lighted by four lancet windows, one on each side, which were glazed within their screening of decayed louver-boards. These had been further fitted with tight, opaque screens, but the latter were now largely rotted away. In the centre of the dust-laden floor rose a curiously angled stone pillar some four feet in height and two in average diameter, covered on each side with bizarre, crudely incised, and wholly unrecognisable hieroglyphs. On this pillar rested a metal box of peculiarly asymmetrical form; its hinged lid thrown back, and its interior holding what looked beneath the decade-deep dust to be an egg-shaped or irregularly spherical object some four inches through. Around the pillar in a rough circle were seven high-backed Gothic chairs still largely intact, while behind them, ranging along the dark-panelled walls, were seven colossal images of crumbling, black-painted plaster, resembling more than anything else the cryptic carven megaliths of mysterious Easter Island. In one corner of the cobwebbed chamber a ladder was built into the wall, leading up to the closed trap-door of the windowless steeple above. As Blake grew accustomed to the feeble light he noticed odd bas-reliefs on the strange open box of yellowish metal. Approaching, he tried to clear the dust away with his hands and handkerchief, and saw that the figurings were of a monstrous and utterly alien kind; depicting entities which, though seemingly alive, resembled no known life-form ever evolved on this planet. The four-inch seeming sphere turned out to be a nearly black, red-striated polyhedron with many irregular flat surfaces; either a very remarkable crystal of some sort, or an artificial object of carved and highly polished mineral matter. It did not touch the bottom of the box, but was held suspended by means of a metal band around its centre, with seven queerly designed supports extending horizontally to angles of the box's inner wall near the top. This stone, once exposed, exerted upon Blake an almost alarming fascination. He could scarcely tear his eyes from it, and as he looked at its glistening surfaces he almost fancied it was transparent, with half-formed worlds of wonder within. Into his mind floated pictures of alien orbs with great stone towers, and other orbs with titan mountains and no mark of life, and still remoter spaces where only a stirring in vague blacknesses told of the presence of consciousness and will. When he did look away, it was to notice a somewhat singular mound of dust in the far corner near the ladder to the steeple. Just why it took his attention he could not tell, but something in its contours carried a message to his unconscious mind. Ploughing toward it, and brushing aside the hanging cobwebs as he went, he began to discern something grim about it. Hand and handkerchief soon revealed the truth, and Blake gasped with a baffling mixture of emotions. It was a human skeleton, and it must have been there for a very long time. The clothing was in shreds, but some buttons and fragments of cloth bespoke a man's grey suit. There were other bits of evidence—shoes, metal clasps, huge buttons for round cuffs, a stickpin of bygone pattern, a reporter's badge with the name of the old Providence Telegram, and a crumbling leather pocketbook. Blake examined the latter with care, finding within it several bills of antiquated issue, a celluloid advertising calendar for 1893, some cards with the name “Edwin M. Lillibridge”, and a paper covered with pencilled memoranda. This paper held much of a puzzling nature, and Blake read it carefully at the dim westward window. Its disjointed text included such phrases as the following: “Prof. Enoch Bowen home from Egypt May 1844—buys old Free-Will Church in July—his archaeological work & studies in occult well known.” “Dr. Drowne of 4th Baptist warns against Starry Wisdom in sermon Dec. 29, 1844.” “Congregation 97 by end of '45.” “1846—3 disappearances—first mention of Shining Trapezohedron.” “7 disappearances 1848—stories of blood sacrifice begin.” “Investigation 1853 comes to nothing—stories of sounds.” “Fr. O'Malley tells of devil-worship with box found in great Egyptian ruins—says they call up something that can't exist in light. Flees a little light, and banished by strong light. Then has to be summoned again. Probably got this from deathbed confession of Francis X. Feeney, who had joined Starry Wisdom in '49. These people say the Shining Trapezohedron shews them heaven & other worlds, & that the Haunter of the Dark tells them secrets in some way.” “Story of Orrin B. Eddy 1857. They call it up by gazing at the crystal, & have a secret language of their own.” “200 or more in cong. 1863, exclusive of men at front.” “Irish boys mob church in 1869 after Patrick Regan's disappearance.” “Veiled article in J. March 14, '72, but people don't talk about it.” “6 disappearances 1876—secret committee calls on Mayor Doyle.” “Action promised Feb. 1877—church closes in April.” “Gang—Federal Hill Boys—threaten Dr. —— and vestrymen in May.” “181 persons leave city before end of '77—mention no names.” “Ghost stories begin around 1880—try to ascertain truth of report that no human being has entered church since 1877.” “Ask Lanigan for photograph of place taken 1851.” . . . Restoring the paper to the pocketbook and placing the latter in his coat, Blake turned to look down at the skeleton in the dust. The implications of the notes were clear, and there could be no doubt but that this man had come to the deserted edifice forty-two years before in quest of a newspaper sensation which no one else had been bold enough to attempt. Perhaps no one else had known of his plan—who could tell? But he had never returned to his paper. Had some bravely suppressed fear risen to overcome him and bring on sudden heart-failure? Blake stooped over the gleaming bones and noted their peculiar state. Some of them were badly scattered, and a few seemed oddly dissolved at the ends. Others were strangely yellowed, with vague suggestions of charring. This charring extended to some of the fragments of clothing. The skull was in a very peculiar state—stained yellow, and with a charred aperture in the top as if some powerful acid had eaten through the solid bone. What had happened to the skeleton during its four decades of silent entombment here Blake could not imagine. Before he realised it, he was looking at the stone again, and letting its curious influence call up a nebulous pageantry in his mind. He saw processions of robed, hooded figures whose outlines were not human, and looked on endless leagues of desert lined with carved, sky-reaching monoliths. He saw towers and walls in nighted depths under the sea, and vortices of space where wisps of black mist floated before thin shimmerings of cold purple haze. And beyond all else he glimpsed an infinite gulf of darkness, where solid and semi-solid forms were known only by their windy stirrings, and cloudy patterns of force seemed to superimpose order on chaos and hold forth a key to all the paradoxes and arcana of the worlds we know. Then all at once the spell was broken by an access of gnawing, indeterminate panic fear. Blake choked and turned away from the stone, conscious of some formless alien presence close to him and watching him with horrible intentness. He felt entangled with something—something which was not in the stone, but which had looked through it at him—something which would ceaselessly follow him with a cognition that was not physical sight. Plainly, the place was getting on his nerves—as well it might in view of his gruesome find. The light was waning, too, and since he had no illuminant with him he knew he would have to be leaving soon. It was then, in the gathering twilight, that he thought he saw a faint trace of luminosity in the crazily angled stone. He had tried to look away from it, but some obscure compulsion drew his eyes back. Was there a subtle phosphorescence of radio-activity about the thing? What was it that the dead man's notes had said concerning a Shining Trapezohedron? What, anyway, was this abandoned lair of cosmic evil? What had been done here, and what might still be lurking in the bird-shunned shadows? It seemed now as if an elusive touch of foetor had arisen somewhere close by, though its source was not apparent. Blake seized the cover of the long-open box and snapped it down. It moved easily on its alien hinges, and closed completely over the unmistakably glowing stone. At the sharp click of that closing a soft stirring sound seemed to come from the steeple's eternal blackness overhead, beyond the trap-door. Rats, without question—the only living things to reveal their presence in this accursed pile since he had entered it. And yet that stirring in the steeple frightened him horribly, so that he plunged almost wildly down the spiral stairs, across the ghoulish nave, into the vaulted basement, out amidst the gathering dusk of the deserted square, and down through the teeming, fear-haunted alleys and avenues of Federal Hill toward the sane central streets and the home-like brick sidewalks of the college district. During the days which followed, Blake told no one of his expedition. Instead, he read much in certain books, examined long years of newspaper files downtown, and worked feverishly at the cryptogram in that leather volume from the cobwebbed vestry room. The cipher, he soon saw, was no simple one; and after a long period of endeavour he felt sure that its language could not be English, Latin, Greek, French, Spanish, Italian, or German. Evidently he would have to draw upon the deepest wells of his strange erudition. Every evening the old impulse to gaze westward returned, and he saw the black steeple as of yore amongst the bristling roofs of a distant and half-fabulous world. But now it held a fresh note of terror for him. He knew the heritage of evil lore it masked, and with the knowledge his vision ran riot in queer new ways. The birds of spring were returning, and as he watched their sunset flights he fancied they avoided the gaunt, lone spire as never before. When a flock of them approached it, he thought, they would wheel and scatter in panic confusion—and he could guess at the wild twitterings which failed to reach him across the intervening miles. It was in June that Blake's diary told of his victory over the cryptogram. The text was, he found, in the dark Aklo language used by certain cults of evil antiquity, and known to him in a halting way through previous researches. The diary is strangely reticent about what Blake deciphered, but he was patently awed and disconcerted by his results. There are references to a Haunter of the Dark awaked by gazing into the Shining Trapezohedron, and insane conjectures about the black gulfs of chaos from which it was called. The being is spoken of as holding all knowledge, and demanding monstrous sacrifices. Some of Blake's entries shew fear lest the thing, which he seemed to regard as summoned, stalk abroad; though he adds that the street-lights form a bulwark which cannot be crossed. Of the Shining Trapezohedron he speaks often, calling it a window on all time and space, and tracing its history from the days it was fashioned on dark Yuggoth, before ever the Old Ones brought it to earth. It was treasured and placed in its curious box by the crinoid things of Antarctica, salvaged from their ruins by the serpent-men of Valusia, and peered at aeons later in Lemuria by the first human beings. It crossed strange lands and stranger seas, and sank with Atlantis before a Minoan fisher meshed it in his net and sold it to swarthy merchants from nighted Khem. The Pharaoh Nephren-Ka built around it a temple with a windowless crypt, and did that which caused his name to be stricken from all monuments and records. Then it slept in the ruins of that evil fane which the priests and the new Pharaoh destroyed, till the delver's spade once more brought it forth to curse mankind. Early in July the newspapers oddly supplement Blake's entries, though in so brief and casual a way that only the diary has called general attention to their contribution. It appears that a new fear had been growing on Federal Hill since a stranger had entered the dreaded church. The Italians whispered of unaccustomed stirrings and bumpings and scrapings in the dark windowless steeple, and called on their priests to banish an entity which haunted their dreams. Something, they said, was constantly watching at a door to see if it were dark enough to venture forth. Press items mentioned the long-standing local superstitions, but failed to shed much light on the earlier background of the horror. It was obvious that the young reporters of today are no antiquarians. In writing of these things in his diary, Blake expresses a curious kind of remorse, and talks of the duty of burying the Shining Trapezohedron and of banishing what he had evoked by letting daylight into the hideous jutting spire. At the same time, however, he displays the dangerous extent of his fascination, and admits a morbid longing—pervading even his dreams—to visit the accursed tower and gaze again into the cosmic secrets of the glowing stone. Then something in the Journal on the morning of July 17 threw the diarist into a veritable fever of horror. It was only a variant of the other half-humorous items about the Federal Hill restlessness, but to Blake it was somehow very terrible indeed. In the night a thunderstorm had put the city's lighting-system out of commission for a full hour, and in that black interval the Italians had nearly gone mad with fright. Those living near the dreaded church had sworn that the thing in the steeple had taken advantage of the street-lamps' absence and gone down into the body of the church, flopping and bumping around in a viscous, altogether dreadful way. Toward the last it had bumped up to the tower, where there were sounds of the shattering of glass. It could go wherever the darkness reached, but light would always send it fleeing. When the current blazed on again there had been a shocking commotion in the tower, for even the feeble light trickling through the grime-blackened, louver-boarded windows was too much for the thing. It had bumped and slithered up into its tenebrous steeple just in time—for a long dose of light would have sent it back into the abyss whence the crazy stranger had called it. During the dark hour praying crowds had clustered round the church in the rain with lighted candles and lamps somehow shielded with folded paper and umbrellas—a guard of light to save the city from the nightmare that stalks in darkness. Once, those nearest the church declared, the outer door had rattled hideously. But even this was not the worst. That evening in the Bulletin Blake read of what the reporters had found. Aroused at last to the whimsical news value of the scare, a pair of them had defied the frantic crowds of Italians and crawled into the church through the cellar window after trying the doors in vain. They found the dust of the vestibule and of the spectral nave ploughed up in a singular way, with bits of rotted cushions and satin pew-linings scattered curiously around. There was a bad odour everywhere, and here and there were bits of yellow stain and patches of what looked like charring. Opening the door to the tower, and pausing a moment at the suspicion of a scraping sound above, they found the narrow spiral stairs wiped roughly clean. In the tower itself a similarly half-swept condition existed. They spoke of the heptagonal stone pillar, the overturned Gothic chairs, and the bizarre plaster images; though strangely enough the metal box and the old mutilated skeleton were not mentioned. What disturbed Blake the most—except for the hints of stains and charring and bad odours—was the final detail that explained the crashing glass. Every one of the tower's lancet windows was broken, and two of them had been darkened in a crude and hurried way by the stuffing of satin pew-linings and cushion-horsehair into the spaces between the slanting exterior louver-boards. More satin fragments and bunches of horsehair lay scattered around the newly swept floor, as if someone had been interrupted in the act of restoring the tower to the absolute blackness of its tightly curtained days. Yellowish stains and charred patches were found on the ladder to the windowless spire, but when a reporter climbed up, opened the horizontally sliding trap-door, and shot a feeble flashlight beam into the black and strangely foetid space, he saw nothing but darkness, and an heterogeneous litter of shapeless fragments near the aperture. The verdict, of course, was charlatanry. Somebody had played a joke on the superstitious hill-dwellers, or else some fanatic had striven to bolster up their fears for their own supposed good. Or perhaps some of the younger and more sophisticated dwellers had staged an elaborate hoax on the outside world. There was an amusing aftermath when the police sent an officer to verify the reports. Three men in succession found ways of evading the assignment, and the fourth went very reluctantly and returned very soon without adding to the account given by the reporters. From this point onward Blake's diary shews a mounting tide of insidious horror and nervous apprehension. He upbraids himself for not doing something, and speculates wildly on the consequences of another electrical breakdown. It has been verified that on three occasions—during thunderstorms—he telephoned the electric light company in a frantic vein and asked that desperate precautions against a lapse of power be taken. Now and then his entries shew concern over the failure of the reporters to find the metal box and stone, and the strangely marred old skeleton, when they explored the shadowy tower room. He assumed that these things had been removed—whither, and by whom or what, he could only guess. But his worst fears concerned himself, and the kind of unholy rapport he felt to exist between his mind and that lurking horror in the distant steeple—that monstrous thing of night which his rashness had called out of the ultimate black spaces. He seemed to feel a constant tugging at his will, and callers of that period remember how he would sit abstractedly at his desk and stare out of the west window at that far-off, spire-bristling mound beyond the swirling smoke of the city. His entries dwell monotonously on certain terrible dreams, and of a strengthening of the unholy rapport in his sleep. There is mention of a night when he awaked to find himself fully dressed, outdoors, and headed automatically down College Hill toward the west. Again and again he dwells on the fact that the thing in the steeple knows where to find him. The week following July 30 is recalled as the time of Blake's partial breakdown. He did not dress, and ordered all his food by telephone. Visitors remarked the cords he kept near his bed, and he said that sleep-walking had forced him to bind his ankles every night with knots which would probably hold or else waken him with the labour of untying. In his diary he told of the hideous experience which had brought the collapse. After retiring on the night of the 30th he had suddenly found himself groping about in an almost black space. All he could see were short, faint, horizontal streaks of bluish light, but he could smell an overpowering foetor and hear a curious jumble of soft, furtive sounds above him. Whenever he moved he stumbled over something, and at each noise there would come a sort of answering sound from above—a vague stirring, mixed with the cautious sliding of wood on wood. Once his groping hands encountered a pillar of stone with a vacant top, whilst later he found himself clutching the rungs of a ladder built into the wall, and fumbling his uncertain way upward toward some region of intenser stench where a hot, searing blast beat down against him. Before his eyes a kaleidoscopic range of phantasmal images played, all of them dissolving at intervals into the picture of a vast, unplumbed abyss of night wherein whirled suns and worlds of an even profounder blackness. He thought of the ancient legends of Ultimate Chaos, at whose centre sprawls the blind idiot god Azathoth, Lord of All Things, encircled by his flopping horde of mindless and amorphous dancers, and lulled by the thin monotonous piping of a daemoniac flute held in nameless paws. Then a sharp report from the outer world broke through his stupor and roused him to the unutterable horror of his position. What it was, he never knew—perhaps it was some belated peal from the fireworks heard all summer on Federal Hill as the dwellers hail their various patron saints, or the saints of their native villages in Italy. In any event he shrieked aloud, dropped frantically from the ladder, and stumbled blindly across the obstructed floor of the almost lightless chamber that encompassed him. He knew instantly where he was, and plunged recklessly down the narrow spiral staircase, tripping and bruising himself at every turn. There was a nightmare flight through a vast cobwebbed nave whose ghostly arches reached up to realms of leering shadow, a sightless scramble through a littered basement, a climb to regions of air and street-lights outside, and a mad racing down a spectral hill of gibbering gables, across a grim, silent city of tall black towers, and up the steep eastward precipice to his own ancient door. On regaining consciousness in the morning he found himself lying on his study floor fully dressed. Dirt and cobwebs covered him, and every inch of his body seemed sore and bruised. When he faced the mirror he saw that his hair was badly scorched, while a trace of strange, evil odour seemed to cling to his upper outer clothing. It was then that his nerves broke down. Thereafter, lounging exhaustedly about in a dressing-gown, he did little but stare from his west window, shiver at the threat of thunder, and make wild entries in his diary. The great storm broke just before midnight on August 8th. Lightning struck repeatedly in all parts of the city, and two remarkable fireballs were reported. The rain was torrential, while a constant fusillade of thunder brought sleeplessness to thousands. Blake was utterly frantic in his fear for the lighting system, and tried to telephone the company around 1 a.m., though by that time service had been temporarily cut off in the interest of safety. He recorded everything in his diary—the large, nervous, and often undecipherable hieroglyphs telling their own story of growing frenzy and despair, and of entries scrawled blindly in the dark. He had to keep the house dark in order to see out the window, and it appears that most of his time was spent at his desk, peering anxiously through the rain across the glistening miles of downtown roofs at the constellation of distant lights marking Federal Hill. Now and then he would fumblingly make an entry in his diary, so that detached phrases such as “The lights must not go”; “It knows where I am”; “I must destroy it”; and “It is calling to me, but perhaps it means no injury this time”; are found scattered down two of the pages. Then the lights went out all over the city. It happened at 2:12 a.m. according to power-house records, but Blake's diary gives no indication of the time. The entry is merely, “Lights out—God help me.” On Federal Hill there were watchers as anxious as he, and rain-soaked knots of men paraded the square and alleys around the evil church with umbrella-shaded candles, electric flashlights, oil lanterns, crucifixes, and obscure charms of the many sorts common to southern Italy. They blessed each flash of lightning, and made cryptical signs of fear with their right hands when a turn in the storm caused the flashes to lessen and finally to cease altogether. A rising wind blew out most of the candles, so that the scene grew threateningly dark. Someone roused Father Merluzzo of Spirito Santo Church, and he hastened to the dismal square to pronounce whatever helpful syllables he could. Of the restless and curious sounds in the blackened tower, there could be no doubt whatever. For what happened at 2:35 we have the testimony of the priest, a young, intelligent, and well-educated person; of Patrolman William J. Monahan of the Central Station, an officer of the highest reliability who had paused at that part of his beat to inspect the crowd; and of most of the seventy-eight men who had gathered around the church's high bank wall—especially those in the square where the eastward facade was visible. Of course there was nothing which can be proved as being outside the order of Nature. The possible causes of such an event are many. No one can speak with certainty of the obscure chemical processes arising in a vast, ancient, ill-aired, and long-deserted building of heterogeneous contents. Mephitic vapours—spontaneous combustion—pressure of gases born of long decay—any one of numberless phenomena might be responsible. And then, of course, the factor of conscious charlatanry can by no means be excluded. The thing was really quite simple in itself, and covered less than three minutes of actual time. Father Merluzzo, always a precise man, looked at his watch repeatedly. It started with a definite swelling of the dull fumbling sounds inside the black tower. There had for some time been a vague exhalation of strange, evil odours from the church, and this had now become emphatic and offensive. Then at last there was a sound of splintering wood, and a large, heavy object crashed down in the yard beneath the frowning easterly facade. The tower was invisible now that the candles would not burn, but as the object neared the ground the people knew that it was the smoke-grimed louver-boarding of that tower's east window. Immediately afterward an utterly unbearable foetor welled forth from the unseen heights, choking and sickening the trembling watchers, and almost prostrating those in the square. At the same time the air trembled with a vibration as of flapping wings, and a sudden east-blowing wind more violent than any previous blast snatched off the hats and wrenched the dripping umbrellas of the crowd. Nothing definite could be seen in the candleless night, though some upward-looking spectators thought they glimpsed a great spreading blur of denser blackness against the inky sky—something like a formless cloud of smoke that shot with meteor-like speed toward the east. That was all. The watchers were half numbed with fright, awe, and discomfort, and scarcely knew what to do, or whether to do anything at all. Not knowing what had happened, they did not relax their vigil; and a moment later they sent up a prayer as a sharp flash of belated lightning, followed by an earsplitting crash of sound, rent the flooded heavens. Half an hour later the rain stopped, and in fifteen minutes more the street-lights sprang on again, sending the weary, bedraggled watchers relievedly back to their homes. The next day's papers gave these matters minor mention in connexion with the general storm reports. It seems that the great lightning flash and deafening explosion which followed the Federal Hill occurrence were even more tremendous farther east, where a burst of the singular foetor was likewise noticed. The phenomenon was most marked over College Hill, where the crash awaked all the sleeping inhabitants and led to a bewildered round of speculations. Of those who were already awake only a few saw the anomalous blaze of light near the top of the hill, or noticed the inexplicable upward rush of air which almost stripped the leaves from the trees and blasted the plants in the gardens. It was agreed that the lone, sudden lightning-bolt must have struck somewhere in this neighbourhood, though no trace of its striking could afterward be found. A youth in the Tau Omega fraternity house thought he saw a grotesque and hideous mass of smoke in the air just as the preliminary flash burst, but his observation has not been verified. All of the few observers, however, agree as to the violent gust from the west and the flood of intolerable stench which preceded the belated stroke; whilst evidence concerning the momentary burned odour after the stroke is equally general. These points were discussed very carefully because of their probable connexion with the death of Robert Blake. Students in the Psi Delta house, whose upper rear windows looked into Blake's study, noticed the blurred white face at the westward window on the morning of the 9th, and wondered what was wrong with the expression. When they saw the same face in the same position that evening, they felt worried, and watched for the lights to come up in his apartment. Later they rang the bell of the darkened flat, and finally had a policeman force the door. The rigid body sat bolt upright at the desk by the window, and when the intruders saw the glassy, bulging eyes, and the marks of stark, convulsive fright on the twisted features, they turned away in sickened dismay. Shortly afterward the coroner's physician made an examination, and despite the unbroken window reported electrical shock, or nervous tension induced by electrical discharge, as the cause of death. The hideous expression he ignored altogether, deeming it a not improbable result of the profound shock as experienced by a person of such abnormal imagination and unbalanced emotions. He deduced these latter qualities from the books, paintings, and manuscripts found in the apartment, and from the blindly scrawled entries in the diary on the desk. Blake had prolonged his frenzied jottings to the last, and the broken-pointed pencil was found clutched in his spasmodically contracted right hand. The entries after the failure of the lights were highly disjointed, and legible only in part. From them certain investigators have drawn conclusions differing greatly from the materialistic official verdict, but such speculations have little chance for belief among the conservative. The case of these imaginative theorists has not been helped by the action of superstitious Dr. Dexter, who threw the curious box and angled stone—an object certainly self-luminous as seen in the black windowless steeple where it was found—into the deepest channel of Narragansett Bay. Excessive imagination and neurotic unbalance on Blake's part, aggravated by knowledge of the evil bygone cult whose startling traces he had uncovered, form the dominant interpretation given those final frenzied jottings. These are the entries—or all that can be made of them. “Lights still out—must be five minutes now. Everything depends on lightning. Yaddith grant it will keep up! . . . Some influence seems beating through it. . . . Rain and thunder and wind deafen. . . . The thing is taking hold of my mind. . . . “Trouble with memory. I see things I never knew before. Other worlds and other galaxies . . . Dark . . . The lightning seems dark and the darkness seems light. . . . “It cannot be the real hill and church that I see in the pitch-darkness. Must be retinal impression left by flashes. Heaven grant the Italians are out with their candles if the lightning stops! “What am I afraid of? Is it not an avatar of Nyarlathotep, who in antique and shadowy Khem even took the form of man? I remember Yuggoth, and more distant Shaggai, and the ultimate void of the black planets. . . . “The long, winging flight through the void . . . cannot cross the universe of light . . . re-created by the thoughts caught in the Shining Trapezohedron . . . send it through the horrible abysses of radiance. . . . “My name is Blake—Robert Harrison Blake of 620 East Knapp Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. . . . I am on this planet. . . . “Azathoth have mercy!—the lightning no longer flashes—horrible—I can see everything with a monstrous sense that is not sight—light is dark and dark is light . . . those people on the hill . . . guard . . . candles and charms . . . their priests. . . . “Sense of distance gone—far is near and near is far. No light—no glass—see that steeple—that tower—window—can hear—Roderick Usher—am mad or going mad—the thing is stirring and fumbling in the tower—I am it and it is I—I want to get out . . . must get out and unify the forces. . . . It knows where I am. . . . “I am Robert Blake, but I see the tower in the dark. There is a monstrous odour . . . senses transfigured . . . boarding at that tower window cracking and giving way. . . . Iä . . . ngai . . . ygg. . . . “I see it—coming here—hell-wind—titan blur—black wings—Yog-Sothoth save me—the three-lobed burning eye. . . .”
"With Chin Shwe Haw, Paung Saing, Kyu Kok, Kawlinn and Khem Pek Overthrow the Military Dictatorship and Building a Federal Union" Myanmar Spring Chronicle 7th Nov 2023 (Moemaka Article) Nway Oo Mai.This item belongs to: audio/opensource_audio.This item has files of the following types: Archive BitTorrent, Metadata, VBR MP3
Sign up for the livestream: https://www.thestargateexperienceacademy.com/a/2147654811/SN9RqCzp Antiquity of Egypt & Atlantis a Journey From Atlantis to Egypt… Embark on a quest into the depths of history, transcending the boundaries of conventional wisdom. Journey from Morocco to Egypt, tracing echoes of forgotten myths that speak of civilizations grander than imagination. Delve into the archaeological canvas, painting a portrait of Egypt older and more profound than textbooks dare to imagine. Explore the Egyptian connection to Atlantis and the possibility of Egypt being one of the offshoots of Atlantis, the extraordinary lost civilization that held the ancient secrets of a highly advanced peoples. Get lifetime access to the replays videos and downloadable meditation/channelings files here: https://www.thestargateexperienceacademy.com/a/2147654811/SN9RqCzp Welcome to an extraordinary journey into the depths of history, a voyage that transcends the boundaries of what we thought we knew. Prepare to embark on a quest to uncover the enigmatic secrets of Ancient Egypt, a realm that dwells far beyond the whispers of conventional wisdom. Long before the Greek Conquest reshaped the narratives, a hidden tapestry of time was woven in the sands of the Land of Khem. A tale that now beckons us to rewrite the chronicles of human civilization, for what lies beneath the surface is nothing short of astonishing. As we traverse from the sun-soaked shores of Morocco to the timeless deserts of Egypt, echoes of forgotten myths reach out to us across epochs. These myths, like fragile whispers preserved in the labyrinth of ages, speak of civilizations so grand that their very existence seems an opulent dream. And then, there is the indelible memory of the flood—an event shrouded in antiquity that bore forth these remarkable beings from the womb of time. Today, we delve into the depths of the archaeological canvas, where fragments of evidence stand as relics of a distant past. Yet, these fragments are more than mere artifacts; they are the brushstrokes that paint the portrait of an Egypt much older, much more profound than our textbooks ever dared to imagine. We will explore the Egyptian connection to Atlantis and the possibility of it being a colony of this great land. 00:5:03 Presentation of Neil Arcturus Gaur: From Atlantis to Morocco 00:36:20 Meditation: Vibrating your higher dimensional DNA
Ha nawt ding bang hang in thupi mahmah hiam // Health talk.Kawikawi + Mikhial mangthnag // Chin Gospel Songs.
Vitamin bang hang kiam mawk hiam // Health talk.Kawikawi + Et lawm calvary // Chin Gospel Songs.
Ih guh leh ih atang nat na a nop tuam nang // Health talk.Kawikawi + Mikhial mang thang // Chin Gospel Songs.
Ih lung tang ii na sep te tawh kisai // Health talk.Kawikawi + Na ang sung // Chin Gospel Songs.
This podcast is all about learning and knowing when it's time to make your grand exit out of toxic or difficult relationships or situations.
In episode 1309, Sean Woodley takes listener questions about the 15-19 Toronto Raptors ahead of a big back-to-back set against the Memphis Grizzlies and Phoenix Suns. Off the top, Sean addresses a question about Precious Achiuwa and whether or not his importance to the Raptors has been undervalued by the fan base during his absence ahead of his potential return tonight or tomorrow. Plus, where will the Raptors be in the standings by the time the All-Star break rolls around? Next, Sean digs into some trade-related questions regarding the most likely Raptors to get moved between Gary Trent Jr., Chris Boucher and Khem birch, and why the New York Knicks duo of Immanuel Quickley and Isaiah Hartenstein is his dream target trade package for the Raptors ahead of the deadline, while Jakob Poeltl's fit is a little bit more of a question mark. Lastly, Sean chats about the players who have been most regularly scapegoated on the Raptors roster this season and who is most likely to have a second half bounceback -- Scottie Barnes feels like a good candidate if he's going to play the five so much -- as well as the level of worry he's feeling about the Raptors' ability to retain Pascal Siakam before he hits free agency. All that and more on today's show!Support Us By Supporting Our Sponsors!Built BarBuilt Bar is a protein bar that tastes like a candy bar. Go to builtbar.com and use promo code “LOCKEDON15,” and you'll get 15% off your next order.BetOnlineBetOnline.net has you covered this season with more props, odds and lines than ever before. BetOnline – Where The Game Starts!LinkedInLinkedIn Jobs helps you find the qualified candidates you want to talk to, faster. Post your job for free at LinkedIn.com/LOCKEDONNBAPrizePicksFirst time users can receive a 100% instant deposit match up to $100 with promo code LOCKEDON. That's PrizePicks.com – promo code; LOCKEDONSweatBlockIf you or someone you love is experiencing embarrassing sweat or odor try SweatBlock. Save20% with promo code Locked On at sweatblock.com. Also available on Amazon.RocketMoneyCancel unnecessary subscriptions with Rocket Money today. Go to RocketMoney.com/LockedOnBetterHelpThis episode is brought to you by BetterHelp. As the world's largest therapy service, BetterHelp has matched 3 million people with professionally licensed and vetted therapists available 100% online. Learn more and save 10% off your first month at BetterHelp.com/LOCKEDONNBAMasterClassWith MasterClass, you can learn from the world's best minds - anytime, anywhere, and at your own pace. his holiday, give one annual membership and get one free! Go to MASTERCLASS.com/LOCKEDON today. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
In episode 1309, Sean Woodley takes listener questions about the 15-19 Toronto Raptors ahead of a big back-to-back set against the Memphis Grizzlies and Phoenix Suns. Off the top, Sean addresses a question about Precious Achiuwa and whether or not his importance to the Raptors has been undervalued by the fan base during his absence ahead of his potential return tonight or tomorrow. Plus, where will the Raptors be in the standings by the time the All-Star break rolls around? Next, Sean digs into some trade-related questions regarding the most likely Raptors to get moved between Gary Trent Jr., Chris Boucher and Khem birch, and why the New York Knicks duo of Immanuel Quickley and Isaiah Hartenstein is his dream target trade package for the Raptors ahead of the deadline, while Jakob Poeltl's fit is a little bit more of a question mark. Lastly, Sean chats about the players who have been most regularly scapegoated on the Raptors roster this season and who is most likely to have a second half bounceback -- Scottie Barnes feels like a good candidate if he's going to play the five so much -- as well as the level of worry he's feeling about the Raptors' ability to retain Pascal Siakam before he hits free agency. All that and more on today's show! Support Us By Supporting Our Sponsors! Built Bar Built Bar is a protein bar that tastes like a candy bar. Go to builtbar.com and use promo code “LOCKEDON15,” and you'll get 15% off your next order. BetOnline BetOnline.net has you covered this season with more props, odds and lines than ever before. BetOnline – Where The Game Starts! LinkedIn LinkedIn Jobs helps you find the qualified candidates you want to talk to, faster. Post your job for free at LinkedIn.com/LOCKEDONNBA PrizePicks First time users can receive a 100% instant deposit match up to $100 with promo code LOCKEDON. That's PrizePicks.com – promo code; LOCKEDON SweatBlock If you or someone you love is experiencing embarrassing sweat or odor try SweatBlock. Save20% with promo code Locked On at sweatblock.com. Also available on Amazon. RocketMoney Cancel unnecessary subscriptions with Rocket Money today. Go to RocketMoney.com/LockedOn BetterHelp This episode is brought to you by BetterHelp. As the world's largest therapy service, BetterHelp has matched 3 million people with professionally licensed and vetted therapists available 100% online. Learn more and save 10% off your first month at BetterHelp.com/LOCKEDONNBA MasterClass With MasterClass, you can learn from the world's best minds - anytime, anywhere, and at your own pace. his holiday, give one annual membership and get one free! Go to MASTERCLASS.com/LOCKEDON today. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Bang hang in in mai teek baih hi ding hiam // Health talk.Kawikawi + Tang thu ngaih pen // Chin Gospel Songs.
Today I sit with Naseed Gifted, Curator of Khem Fest-a celebration of Black Animation, Gaming, and Comic Book Creators now in its 8th year based in the Newark New Jersey Area. We discuss the initiatives that Khem Fest has brought to life providing access to the community as a means of emboldening the youth through STEM and the Arts. Khem Fest has become more than a traditional comic con, but an Animation Film Festival, an Art and Tech Gallery, and a Marketplace for fashion.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/the-faqs-project-hosted-by-james-grandmaster-faqs-boyce/donations
Welcome friends and fellow truth seekers to The Brave New World Order Podcast! Straight out the dungeons of podcasting I am Brandon St. One. In this episode we continue our exploration of the Emerald Tablets of Thoth the Atlantean! In The Dweller of Unal, Thoth explains the destruction of Atlantis and how he fled to the Land of Khem to spread his wisdom! Twitter: @bravenwopodcast thebravenewworldorderpodcast@gmail.com The Brave New World Order is on Alt Media United so check it out! https://altmediaunited.com/bnwo-podcast/ https://altmediaunited.com/ --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/bravenwopodcast/support
Ready made an tek ong thau sak hi nek huai lo // Health talk.Kawikawi + Et lawm calvary // Chin Gospel Songs.
Sane lo te nek dan ding // Health talk.Kawikawi + Et lawm calvary // Chin Gospel Songs.;
In today's recap, Wendy reflects on the series with the Sixers and what it was like watching the Raptors and Khem in the playoffs. She also gets on Twitter and responds to some of you lovely people. Shoutout to Scottie for winning Rookie of the Year !!!
Bang an te ih nek ciang ih sihui bing hiam // Health talk.Kawikawi + Zeisu kei a din man pha // Chin Gospel Songs.
Matías De Stefano opens the episode singing an ancient song to the muse of history to help us remember. This would normally be beautiful. Except the ancient song is from ATLANTIS, and is sung in the Atlantean language that Matias remembers from a past life in the post-diluvian city of Khem! I totally understand if you are skeptical. Me too. But I just ask that if nothing else you listen to the song at the start of the podcast and see if it feels true in your body. I bet you five dollars that it will, and if ever I run into you we can settle our debts ;) Regardless of what you believe, this is one of the most important conversations on how we can meaningfully create the world we desperately desire. Connect with Matías DeStefano Website | https://www.matiasdestefano.org Instagram | https://www.instagram.com/matiasgustavodestefano/ YouTube | https://www.youtube.com/user/ghancaA Join the Aubrey Marcus Podcast Premium Membership on Supercast and get all the new AMP episodes ad free, a monthly AMA episode only for the Supercast community, as well as exclusive content only found on the Aubrey Marcus Premium Subscription like guided meditations, breathworks and unreleased podcast episodes | https://aubreymarcuspodcast.supercast.com/ Check out the FFS ANIMA Mini Festival | fitforservice.com/anima Check out the new album Remembrance by ForThe Good Of All | aubreymarcus.com/album This episode is sponsored by: Onnit Get 10% off Onnit products | https://www.onnit.com/Aubrey/ TRU KAVA is a new form of stabilized full spectrum traditional kava packaged in tasty ready to use forms. Visit trukava.com enter AMP at checkout for 15% off Helix Sleep save up to 200 dollars off all mattress orders AND two free pillows by visiting HelixSleep.com/AMP Connect with Aubrey: Website | https://www.aubreymarcus.com/ Instagram | https://www.instagram.com/aubreymarcus/ Twitter | https://twitter.com/aubreymarcus Facebook | https://www.facebook.com/AubreyMarcus/ YouTube | https://bit.ly/2DLctpk Check out Own The Day Own Your Life by Aubrey Marcus| https://bit.ly/2t6x4hu Subscribe to the Aubrey Marcus Newsletter: https://www.aubreymarcus.com/pages/email Subscribe to the Aubrey Marcus Podcast: iTunes | https://apple.co/2lMZRCn Spotify | https://spoti.fi/2EaELZO Stitcher | https://bit.ly/2G8ccJt
Leeng gah tang leh ih cidam na cih thu // Health talk.Kawikawi + Na Ang Sung // Chin Gospel Songs.
Exercise leh zuih ding a ki lawm thu pawl khat // Health talk.Kawikawi + Nang din zang ning // Chin Gospel songs.
DOUBLE Up 2nd episode for the week! Let's get to the news! Intro Songs Sam G - Gloomy https://youtu.be/673Iw-SQnuQ Why G - Bantu Jini https://youtu.be/VAPuK5j0CNQ Whyg - BuzzCity Freestyle https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9yW0vGygUM&feature=youtu.be News - Is WhyG underrated? - Mental Heatlh Check - Real Toronto Serial Killer Doc Reaction - Growing The Podcast - Lococity Arrested Toronto Police Wildin Out - Senior Toronto cop in charge of internal discipline is arrested for impaired driving | The Star - Toronto police allege body camera captures officer making race-based, sexual remarks at murder scene | CTV News - Coi Leray Retweets Safe Tweet - More On Drake Hot Sauce - Taco Bell Wings - Ph D Says Grabba Is Bad For The Ppl From The Break Music DUB J X PARIS RICHARDS - LOOK AT ME https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSF6J9f8DAM Uncut Segment - Are Toronto Female Rappers Being Overlooked - Are Toronto Girls Wutless Outro Track: Safaree - HATER https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6z1j9BToR8 Guttzy Guttz: www.instagram.com/theguttzyshow/ Basmati Binga: https://www.instagram.com/basmati_binga/ Gucci 416: www.instagram.com/g_u_c_c_i_416/ Friday Ricky Dred: www.instagram.com/fridayrickydred/ 6ix Views: www.instagram.com/6ixviewsto/ We Love Hip Hop Network: www.instagram.com/welovehiphopnetwork/
Today, Tes talks with Khem Khoeun. Trustee Khoeun has lived in Skokie since 2005 and was elected to the Village Board in 2021. When initially elected to the Skokie Park District Board in 2017, she became the first Cambodian-American woman elected to public office in the United States. Trustee Khoeun holds a Bachelor of Science in Social Work with a minor in Political Science from Loyola University, Chicago. She is a Certified SAFe Product Owner/Manager and, in 2018, received a Courage & Leadership Award from the Devata Giving Circle. In addition to serving as a Commissioner and Vice-President on the Skokie Park District Board from 2017 to 2021, her numerous civic involvements include serving as a member of the Fairview Parent Equity Group and a volunteer with the Asian American Caucus. Trustee Khoeun also serves on the Board of Directors for the North Suburban Legal Aid Clinic. Having been born in a refugee camp to Cambodian refugee parents, she currently serves as the President of the National Cambodian Heritage Museum & Killing Fields Memorial. She and her husband chose to live in Skokie to raise their children, now ages 9 and 11. Trustee Khoeun enjoys Skokie's ease of access to the expressway and public transit, the excellent schools, beautiful parks, affordable homes and the great diversity that all make Skokie a welcoming, safe place to live. To learn more about Khem Khoeun: Twitter & IG: @friendsofkhem
To former UNLV Head Coach Dave Rice, Khem Birch is All-Defence, All-Motor and All-Loyalty. Coach Rice outlines why he was confident taking Birch into the fold after an ugly exit with his first college team.Despite Birch admittedly being a shy person, Coach Rice beams about Birch's explosion in his leadership between his sophomore and junior seasons, not to mention his explosion in the stat sheet. Plus we go into the locker-room after UNLV was upset in Birch's lone NCAA tournament appearance.Despite going undrafted in 2014, Rice details why he knew then that Birch was going to have a "long and illustrious" career. Part of that is Khem's perseverant, team-first attitude. Another is his burning motivation to prove his ever-growing list of doubters wrong. Coach Rice is proud of every player he's helped make the NBA, but find out why, to him, no one is any more special than Khem Birch. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
To former UNLV Head Coach Dave Rice, Khem Birch is All-Defence, All-Motor and All-Loyalty. Coach Rice outlines why he was confident taking Birch into the fold after an ugly exit with his first college team.Despite Birch admittedly being a shy person, Coach Rice beams about Birch's explosion in his leadership between his sophomore and junior seasons, not to mention his explosion in the stat sheet. Plus we go into the lockerroom after UNLV was upset in Birch's lone NCAA tournament appearance.Despite going undrafted in 2014, Rice details why he knew then that Birch was going to have a "long and illustrious" career. Part of that is Khem's perseverant, team-first attitude. Another is his burning motivation to prove his ever-growing list of doubters wrong. Coach Rice is proud of every player he's helped make the NBA, but find out why, to him, no one is any more special than Khem Birch. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
Host Chris Walder (@WalderSports) invites Wendy Sparks (@WenSparks), the host of the "Court-Side Moms" podcast and the mother of Toronto Raptors center Khem Birch, onto the program. The two discuss her podcast and the origin story behind it, including how she goes about her research and if she was ever hesitant to get it off the ground. They then get into Khem's basketball journey, which includes not enjoying the sport at first, Wendy's role in nurturing his love of the game, being away from her son while he was playing abroad, if she's able to handle smack talk from fans against him while she's attending games, and much more. Wendy also chats about her roles at the Union United Church in Montreal, her faith and how important it's been during these trying times, if Khem intends on remaining with the Raptors beyond this season, his relationship with Kyle Lowry, the proper pronunciation of "KLOE," and more. And in her final rapid-fire questioning, Wendy reveals the secret behind amazing fried chicken, her love of "The Masked Singer," if St-Viateur Bagel is worth the hype, what her ideal cold-pressed organic juice looks like, what her Mother's Day was like this year, if she regrets going after the Raptors' social media account, her picks for the upcoming Maple Leafs-Canadiens NHL series, and so much more. (Music: Kalimba - Cxdy, Easy Sunday - Bad Snacks) Use promo code "WALDER" at Manscaped.com for free shipping and 20 percent off of your next purchase.
In Episode 929, Sean is joined by special guest Wendy Sparks, who hosts the Courtside Moms podcast in addition to being the mother of the newest Raptor, Khem Birch. Sean and Wendy discuss what it means to both Khem and his family that he's now playing for his childhood favourite team so close to his hometown of Montreal. They then talk about his road to the NBA, the role Wendy played in helping guide Birch through a disappointing draft process, and his decision to come back to the NBA to play in Orlando after carving out a nice career overseas. They also dig into Khem's long-term intentions of staying in Toronto, his relationship with Raptors and national team head coach Nick Nurse, the Montreal-heavy Raptors-Thunder matchup from Sunday night, and much more.Subscribe to Courtside Moms today! https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/court-side-moms-in-depth-conversations-nba-wnba-professional/id1481875923Listen to The Ultimate Mock Draft 2021 presented by Audacy and the Locked On Podcast Network. April 19th-26th. Follow the feed today!Support Us By Supporting Our Sponsors!Built BarBuilt Bar is a protein bar that tastes like a candy bar. Go to builtbar.com and use promo code “LOCKED15” and you'll get 15% off your next order.BetOnline AGThere is only 1 place that has you covered and 1 place we trust. Betonline.ag! Sign up today for a free account at betonline.ag and use that promocode: LOCKEDON for your 50% welcome bonus.Rock AutoAmazing selection. Reliably low prices. All the parts your car will ever need. Visit RockAuto.com and tell them Locked On sent you.IndeedGet started RIGHT NOW with a FREE SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLAR SPONSORED JOB CREDIT to upgrade your job post at Indeed.com/locked Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Sit down with several Egyptian Priestesses of Isis as we discuss what we've gathered from pilgrimage to the ancient temples land of Khem. Nymia, Annie Waters, Rachel Cepeda, Chaya Kornreich, LaTonya Benson, Normandi Ellis and Anandha Ray share. To get Normandi's latest books, go to her Website. Check out Anandha's Website to learn about Serpent Ceremonies and take the first steps to get involved with the Temple of Isis. Follow us on Facebook and check out the Website for more details and to engage with our podcast community. If you'd like to be a guest on the show, click HERE.
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