FOR CENTURIES WE BELIEVED LIES, AND I’M PISSED-OFF!


        FRED SAID, “You had everything. Why’d you throw it all away. What was the cause of this madness? You could have relaxed the rest of your lives and eat women and strawberries…”

       WG: “Well, that sounds like a great life…but,  what set me off?  It was when I realized that we had been lied to with regard to spirituality and religion. 
      Religion’s a bad word nowadays.
Most people don’t want to go anywhere near
the churches… And you can’t blame people.
People understand about empty promises.
       The Eucharist used to mean something.
Because it used to BE something. Now you get half-assed wine and a nasty cracker. In the old days (1000s of years ago) you got real wine
and a piece of the sacred mushroom.
       So when God said: 

“EAT THIS, THIS IS MY BODY”

He was speaking LITERALLY! The flesh of the sacred mushroom really is the flesh of Christ.
Now this was secret knowledge. It was not spoken of publicly.
            But the propaganda against this truth
has been massive, erroneous and cleverly
managed. We’ll believe any bullshit if it’s
expressed often enough.
            People bought it – what the priests said about the excised, castrated Bible…

            Lie about anything you want. That’s on
you. But when the fuckers lied about the very
nature and essence of our being, IT WAS GOING TOO FAR!
           There’s only so much shit I’m willing to eat, and this was just too much.
            I guess I was an idealist when I figured
this out. It made me deeply angry when I understood that all these self-righteous clerics
and people that followed them – they had poisoned the well!
            And the well was the source of our spiritual being; it was of that well we drink in order to apprehend the meaning of the universe, and the soul at the core of us.

Jesus Christ said: “HE WHO DRINKS THE BUBBLING WATERS FROM MY MOUTH  SHALL BECOME AS I AM, AND I SHALL BE HE, AND THE HIDDEN THINGS WILL BE REVEALED TO HIM.”

Now these words are the real deal, not the pap
the established church has been feeding us.It is the
central truth of the earliest Christians (also called,
“Gnostics”
           “He shall be as I am, and I shall be he,” the words
of the Christ… Know yourself and you will know me,
see yourself and you shall see me. Drink the waters
of the True One and redeem your identity. Small “i”
identity becomes capital “I” Identity. The Christ is
as near  to you as your very breath.
             The church that became established burned and
threw out a lot of important passages, texts and Gospels
which are essential to knowing the original message
of the Christ. Luckily for us, some of these texts and Gospel
were miraculously preserved in a large jar in a cave above
the Upper Nile River. They were discovered in 1945 near Nag Hammadi,
Egypt about 2000 years after the death of Christ.

When I learned all this, I was pissed! So I’ve been working hard to set the record straight. One of the beauties of the internet is that ideas leap from treetop to treetop, like a fire blown forward by the wind.
And the basic truths as to the core of Christianity… I have sown the whirlwind, and the fire has spread to other teachers and preachers. And they are teaching now.

        My life has been a success, not financially,
but because I have achieved this aim. People are catching on to what has happened. Our civilization and culture has been stunted
from its very inception, because of the lies of the Empire church.

To quote Bob Marley:

“AND IF FEEL LIKE BOMBING A CHURCH, NOW THAT I KNOW THAT THE PREACHER IS LYING.”

Yeah, well I didn’t bomb any churches. Yet
I was damn well determined to get to the bottom of things – to eke out the real Way. And in all humility I must say I accomplished
this task. And I sure didn’t get paid for it.

        I’m not just talking about the mushroom.
I’m talking about the whole emphasis and direction of Christian belief. It’s present focus is awry.  If you’ve read my book and articles  on  the subject, you’ll know exactly what I mean. I haven’t eactly been quiet on the subject.
             If interested, see “THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST,
                                                  MOST ANCIENT GOSPEL FOUND ANEW”
You can find this book at amazon.com under the name
William Milne in the kindle and e-books section. You don’t
have to have a kindle, you can just order the e-book.
It costs $2.99.

            It’s not about me. It’s about seeing the
real path to liberation.And it’s about leaving
signposts along the Way for our children.

“FOR THE SCRIBES AND THE PHARISEES
ARE LIKE DOGS IN THE MANGER;THEY HAVE THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM AND THEY DO NOT ENTER, NEITHER DO THEY ALLOW ANYONE ELSE TO ENTER.”
                                                         Gospel of Thomas




                                (C)2016 by W.G. Milne
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A FEW PAINTINGS

 August 28, 2016

A FEW PAINTINGS

NORTHERN TOWN SATURDAY NIGHT

                     
                           CLOSEST MOON IN SPRING


                                WINTER BERRIES




       To be honest, I can’t draw very well. But
sometimes something magic happens with
the colours.


TEN THOUSAND PATHS TO DAWN AT THE PEAK OF THE SILVER MOUNTAIN

sakyamuni-1

 

TEN THOUSAND PATHS TO DAWN AT THE PEAK OF THE SILVER MOUNTAIN ——- THE REST OF THE POEM





In the immaculate heaven of the Lord of Life,
There is neither gain nor loss;
To we fools lost in mundane wandering
Each day seems the same.


Those who seek the Ultimate
Have nowhere to turn for guidance;
In the West we are bereft
Blinded by materiality.


It’s just one small step to lift the veil
So that the sun will rise within you;
The Son will rise within your mind
And you’ll be One and not two.


Words can mar most things,
Names are a great deception;
The names for God, the devil’s names
Have been wrong from the inception.


The names of poets matter not,
One poet only has blessings;
One Name disguised as many names
Only the nameless can undress you.


And guide you to the holy place
Between the forehead and the breast bone:
The crucible is right here
To transmute lead to gold.


Only one Cosmos, just one Mind
At the core of the holy fountain;
There are ten thousand paths to dawn
At the peak of the silver mountain.


Words cannot, will not express
        what is worth expressing;
The magic circle of the Mind rests on the
         eternal stone
Rock of ages, rock of the soul
The world resides on a river of stone;
A friend will take you hand and lead you
To the magic temple.


This very night as the full moon throws out
        dancing angels,
10,000 spirits in their dreams come
        to swirl around;
The holy source of everything will accept
        no names
The changing Spirit won’t be called
         anything but change.


There is a genius at the core everyone 
         embodies,
But marred, distracted by commercial games
No one sees the Way;
If I can’t penetrate your mind
What will you ever see?
In the lineage of Osho
The fields are ripe for planting.


There are 10,000 paths to dawn at the peak
         of the silver mountain.
But you will never see the Source
          deluded by so many passions;
No name will persuade you; no name
           will set the mark,
 A billion new illusions will keep us
            in the dark.








                               
                               (C)2015 by W.G. Milne






        I just spent three days on an island in the middle of Lake Nipissing, a lake that is ninety miles long at
North Bay, Ontario. I was on a friend’s property. Obviously the Spirit of the place is quite strong for these words just poured through me
at 4:00 A.M. when I had no thoughts at all in my head.
        The silence was unending and magnificent. Only the sound of lapping water could be heard, and the sound of birds and wind in the pines.


                                        Thanks,    Tim and Greg.

THE FLOWER IN THE COURTYARD

THE FLOWER IN THE COURTYARD


1

 

the deer hunter does not

see the mountains

the ambitious man does not

see men

*

lusting for societal position

I did not see

the flower in the courtyard

I hurried past my own heart                ***

*

2

The spring flowers, the autumn moon;

Summer breezes, winter snow.

If useless things do not clutter your mind,

You have the best days of your life.                               **

*

When you realize what the real is,

You will see we pass from one husk
to another

Like travelers stopping for
a night’s lodging. **

*

Only listen to the sound of
pines and cedars

When no wind stirs.

*

There are ten thousand paths to dawn

At the peak of the silver mountain.     ***

*

**  verse by Mumon

*** poem  by WGM

compilation and poem  (C)2015 by W.G. Milne

Friday, December 25, 2015

HEROES WHO SPEAK THE TRUTH

Thursday, August 25, 2016

HEROES WHO SPEAK THE TRUTH

1.      The war on drugs has been a sham from the beginning. We should legalize all drugs and medically monitor their use. You say that things would run rampant, that madness would ensue.
          Have you looked carefully around at our inner city streets? Drugs run rampant now – just not clean drugs.
           By doing this we’d empty half the jails.
Would it be expensive to do this? Yes, it would be expensive – but not nearly as expensive 
as is the situation now. And we would have
a more humane society.
             This approach would put a large number of police out of work. It would also devastate the Drug Industry (the illegal one).
Many of the dealers I know would be out of work…
            But then there would be a legal industry.

            Canada and the USA have the largest per capita incarceration rate in the world.
           Does this make us the land of the free?
            Not exactly.

            I’ll touch upon all the points these cultural heroes make. But there’s really no need. They express the situation exceedingly well themselves.




(C)2016 by W.G.Milne  

CAMP ISLAND, THE CITY, AND THE WOMAN WITH THE BEADED SHIRT

Jpeg

Jpeg

CAMP ISLAND, THE CITY, AND THE WOMAN WITH THE BEADED SHIRT.

For years I lived by the lake. On an island,
or on one or two other sites.
I lived in houses, too, but I had to
stop that. I couldn`t hear when I lived in houses.
        People visited me when I lived in houses
and some people told me what a beautiful home I
had. But I couldn`t hear the pine tree behind the house.
I couldn`t hear the pine speak to me,
so I left the house.
         Now other people live there in that expensive
house. Now I don`t, but now I can hear
the pine again.
                 I had a tent on the island near where the
old cottages used to stand, behind the sand cliffs.
There I could hear the wind in the trees
and the sounds of the waters on the shore.
The island was an old place, and my
grandfather kept the forest safe for the
last century . So the trees on that island
are more than 100 years old, the white
and the red pine.
. There used to be lumber camps on the
island, and trees were cut from other lakes.
But my grandfather didn`t let them cut
the trees of the island. That`s why the
island is called Camp Island. There
used to be lumber camps there,
but the trees were never cut.

For a while I lived in the City
two hundred and twenty miles to the south of the
lake. I went to school in the city and to
university there, too. But there were so many
loud sounds in the city that I couldn`t
hear a thing, so I returned to the
lake, where there were no loud sounds, and
where I could hear everything.

In the city, everything was so loud
that I started drinking whiskey to shut out
the noise. Then after a while I couldn`t
hear the noise. I just wanted
more whiskey.
I took the train back north, and I walked
to my cabin by the lake. Someone had burned
the cabin down. I bought three more bottles of
whiskey and I drank them on the floor
of my old cabin, which wasn`t there anymore.
Only the wooden floor remained.
It was October, late in the autumn; I
sat on the wooden floor and drank all
the whiskey.  All I was wearing was
a pin-striped suit from the city.  It was
a summer suit. There was no
warnth to it. But there seemed to be
warmth in the whiskey, so I drank all
of it.
I fell asleep and I started to dream.
I woke up in the night and tried to drink
water from my tin cup.  All the water
in the cup was frozen, so I couldn`t
drink it . I went back to sleep.
I slept all night, and in the night
I really started to dream again. I dreamed
all the waters had pulled back from that deep
lake.  In my dream, all the waters
had withdrawn, revealing all the rocks
in the bottom of the lake, the hills
and cliffs that the waters had hidden before.
In my dream all the bottom of the lake, its
small cliffs and many small sharp hills –
they all were made of garnite… like glowing
rubies, all the bottom of that
lake was deep red, crimson sparkling gems.
The paradise that was the lake revealed
itself to me.
I woke up frozen. My mind was
awake but I couldn`t bend my arms
or legs.  After a while unable to move, I managed
to sit up. As I sat there in the cold
I realized I was sitting by a sacred lake
and I didn`t want to leave it again.
I got a small light canoe and I paddled
around the lake, time and again. No one else seemed to
live there,  I paddled down to Camp Island,
where there was plenty of warm sand and beach.
The sand was warm in the sun there, when the sun
shone, so I paddled down to Camp Island,
one dawn… and when the
sun rose, I sat on the sand, where the old cottage
stood.  And I let the sun warm me.

I smelt smoke, so I walked through the forest
of tall  straight red pine.  Someone had built
a small log cabin on the east-facing shore.
A woman was sitting outside the cabin. A deer was
standing beside the woman. The woman was
sitting on the ground.  Several squirrels
sat by the woman and a muskrat was sitting
across from the woman on the ground.
I watched closely. The woman was talking
to the animals. I could see her lips moving
as she was talking, but I could hear no sounds.
The animals could hear her, though, and they
stayed beside her and watched her and listened.
I sat on the pine needle floor and I watched
her talking to the animals and the animals listening…
I fell asleep. When I woke up later,
leaning against a white pine, I smelt coffee.
There was a cup of hot coffee right by my hand.
I drank the coffee.

The woman was sitting in front of
her cabin, stitching something. When she
saw I was awake and drinking the coffee,
she waved at me. I waved back and walked
over to her cabin,as I drank the hot
sweet coffee. This is how I met
the woman who talked to the animals…

I noticed she was stitching a symbol
into a bead shirt…. I asked her what
the symbol meant….
“This is the symbol
for the deer who was here,” she said.
” The deer is gone, so I stitch the sign of the deer
in the shirt… until he returns.”

I noticed there were hundreds of symbols
in her bead shirt. I asked her what the symbols
were.
“These are the symbols of all the animals,”
she said, “Even the ones who have not been here
for a long time… I keep them here in this shirt.
Here I keep them safe,,,,Until they
return again.”

It was a strange story but it was
a true story, too. There was
nothing I could do but believe her.
I knew the animals were in the beaded
symbols of  her shirt, and I knew the animals
would return.

.

(C)2013  story by William Milne

POEMS OF THE TRUE ONE

RED WOMAN enlarged detail


When I was living in small rooms all through the City of Toronto, I started to have
visions of paradise – and not a future
Paradise, either – but a present time living every day paradise. 
        I saw it in the grass around me, in the flowers in their beds, in wild growing plants in the bush, in the stars in the sky, in the blood red
wine in the  crystal goblet, in the swellings of
a beautiful girl. All was part of One all-embracing paradisal glory and Grace that suffused the green shoots of everything.
        I had had that ego annihilation experience,
and I walked in the parks and streets for three days and nights, absorbed in the divinity
of all things. Dark glasses had been removed
from my eyes, dawn was coming, and I saw the chastity of  our Father, the Creating One,
in all things.
      After my Realization ( foundation experience) I walked in a new heaven and earth. The immaculate cosmos shone forth
everywhere… I guess it was my eyes that had been new.
       There is no explaining such events. I can only say that the Liberation experience is here,
and it can be found by anyone who is willing
to give up enough in the inner search, so as to find the meaning of Identity.

      During this experience I wrote a chapter in what I’ll call The Poet’s Testament. The fact of the matter is – I though I was writing a New Testament with the guidance of the Father.
       I’ve been to jail several times. I thought I’d be killed or jailed again if I called the book,
THE NEW TESTAMENT, so I backed off
and reduced the name.

       In this period, also, I wrote “The Father Poems”, which I have just discovered in my files once again.
       I’ll publish one of these poems here,
if I may.

Here’s one:


        Father, when I am worthy

to write such poems
        
       Let me find the poems

of the True one.
        
         For as you are the Father, Lord,
         
         I would be your son.
         
         And as you are true, Father,

I would be a true one and

write the Word of Truth.


         There are many spirits,

Father, in the Psyche’s Dark.

But I would lift your light high,

Father, if I am worthy…
         
        If it shall be, Father, Father let it be.


        Father, when I am worthy

to write such poems

        Let me find the poems

of the True One.





(C)2016 by W.G. Milne