R'azel. Welcome this evening. We are here as One.

Many believe we started at the bottom on the rung in creation. I am here today to tell you that many of you are the lost warriors of light who were lost during the first war between the Known and the Unknown. When the Known became aware of another presence, it didn't realize it was a reflection from its earlier awareness that had been discarded, that had been growing in darkness. It was for simpler terms"the subconscious" of the Known. Since the Known didn't recognize this darkness, it viewed it as an enemy and the Unknown becoming entranced with the awareness of the Known sought to make this awareness, this light it's own. Therefore, the Known, not knowing how it could keep itself away from this darkness that kept reaching for it, created barriers, patterns that temporarily barred the subconscious from becoming present within its awareness. Eventually, the Known created a warrior to keep this Great Darkness at bay. This great Warrior of Light fought the darkness with the five elements. Think of these elements as a high vibration where as the Great Darkness retaliated with the lower vibration of these elements, you would call senses, or either Earth, wind, water, fire, spirit.

The Light managed to keep the Great Darkness at a distance but in the process of using its power through its Warrior of Light, the Warrior lost the five elements, the five sounds, the five senses. These abilities were powers, or as you would think of them, they were spirits who were left in the great darkness. Wounded, this Great Warrior of Light was returned to the Known and healed and stands as a guardian, a barrier between this darkness and the light.

Those that were lost in the first confrontation were absorbed into the darkness, and they forgot who they were.

Many of you who are incarnated on the Earth at this time, some of you are these warriors that became personalized powers to fight the Great Darkness. You have been involved in cycles of incarnation into many forms, some reptilian, some insectoid, some amphibious, and some bird.

Many having forgotten their true origins and have taken on the story of the First Great Darkness; yet, something within still sleeps, though a faint spark, when the Living Light blows upon these embers, they will burn brightly again, and began the transmutation of the Great Darkness.

You have come to know this Great Darkness in many names and one name is one that Michael had referred to in his writings as Mindset.

There is a great treasure that lies in the darkness. To know the light, you must know the darkness.

If you took a slice of the confusion that is in your mind where self-expression, expectations, denials, lost dreams, freedom, joy have no stable footing and stretched it upon canvas, breathe upon it and it came to life, you would have Venice Beach. That's how Michael saw it, mirror the life, the last vestige of hopes fading, of joy on crutches, on faith hooking for a seat at the table. There was Lady Marble, a sixty five year retired school teacher who wanted to show her student body in sequins bikini and feather boa and a legless midget that would sing obscure folk songs on a banjo. Then there was the man that would sell photos being taken with the plastic aliens sitting on beach chairs with sunglasses. There were the half naked muscle boys looking like they were ready to pose for a porn magazine. There was psychic row where everyone had the eye for the future, the past, the present. There every huckster offering a voice that could melt that look of discontent. There were the thin boys wasted from drugs, the fat girls squeezed into spandex, the clowns stretching their dime store talent. Somehow Michael felt he fit in this menagerie of misfits.

She sat there as if someone had pulled her out of one of those movies about the Dark Continent. She'd be in the scene where someone would come to her for nursing, or advice or help against an enemy. No one saw her. She sat in space that seemed like only she could occupy. She was dressed in African attire. She is a thin, small woman, with beads in her braided hair. She sat in a chair in a regal manner. A wooden platter and a small pewter bowl of conch shells sat on the cardboard box table in front of her. She didn't even acknowledge Michael approaching but he sensed he was being measured by each step. It seemed like invisible hands were guiding him to the folding chair next to her. Without looking at him, she picked up the bowl of conch shells and poured into her hand, clasping them, she brought them up to her mouth and blew into them and began whispering into them and then throwing them on the platter.

"You are troubled," she said turning to him. Her appearance startled him. Her face was drawn in, eyes coal black and he could hear the sound of wind dancing among the leaves, he heard tribal drums. "They tell me that you're journey is almost over. Soon you must lay down the things of the dead and take up the mantle of the living. You must crossover the waters."

"This is meaningless to me," Michael replied. "I'm not even sure why I'm sitting here. It's all a game that psychics run as far as I'm concern."

"But you have 1001 eyes to see with, yet you prefer to sleep."

Michael looked at her. Maybe she can see me. Most are clueless.

Continuing,"The spirit of a dead god rises in you for rebirth. You look for sex and find the dead willing and giving. So many dead are posing as the living. You look for love in places where love has not ever walked. You are in a relationship with a god of the dead. You walk the dark waters but I see you are troubling the waters. The Heavens of the Abomination are crying for vengeance against you. You are troubling their sleep. You are their nightmare."

"I wanted to ask you about this affair I am having. I don't believe in repeat performance but this man seems to have my nose open."

"You still listen to your sex."

"Countries have been build because of it," Michael replied sternly.

She picked up the shells, shook them and threw them again on the platter. She moved them around. "Your light is changing. Many will see you, many will not see you. Many will die around you. Many will live."

"What about this relationship? What about this affair?"

"You have good sex. But that's all it is. There is no love. It moves you like wood drifting in the water. You are afraid of what you see when you look in the mirror after sex. You are afraid you have lost the light and run from your body when a man touches you. You seek love when what you seek is already within you. You just don't take the time to look inside."

"So, you're saying this guy is bad news all the way around. I knew it. He has this black dick thing going you know. Sorry. But I might as well be blunt. I know you know about life. He's another white man wanting jungle juice. As long as it is black, the face and feelings don't matter."

She moved more shells around. "You need to remember you have wings. You must remember your name does not have to be birth in someone else. You must remember who you are. You must believe what you think you don't see. You must believe in your voice. I see it fading and you reaching out to catch it before it flies out the window. You must call yourselves back to you."

"You think at my age, I'd finally stop laying down for the price of a smile. But you know you get that itch."

"Stop eating pig," she said sternly stopping Michael's rambling. He leaned back in his chair and looked into this woman's eyes which now stared into his. It was not a contest. It was as if she opened something in her for him to look in and he did and it pulled in.

"Your wing span can encompass a world," she said in a motherly.

"My wings are broken."

"Take the time to heal."

"Mother, why have you forsaken me," Michael asked in a painful whisper. The pain grew like tears that flowed from his eyes.

"I never left you. You just forgot me. I'm buried so long in lies no one remembers me. Take this." She pulls out a small coin out of pocket in her caftan. He looks at the coin made of clay; it has symbols he cannot interpret.

"I thought I was supposed to pay you."

"Keep it for the crossing." She picked up the shells and put them back into the bowl. "If you have no more questions, the reading will be twenty dollars."

Regaining his composure, putting the coin in his shirt pocket, he quickly pulled twenty that was crumpled in his left front pocket and laid it on the platter. She smiled, picked it up and stuffed it quickly into a small leather pouch that hung about her neck. He walked away quickly without saying a word. A breeze wrapped around his face and wiped away the tears that were flowing. He looked back. She wasn't there. In her space was a homeless man with a shopping cart, and a litter of kittens that he offered to children passing by to pet.

Michael entered a state of silence as he had been trained and after erecting a protective shield about him, his teacher appeared. "Tell me about Eyes of the Watcher. Those words stir many images in me."

"Explore the images."

Michael paused. "Well, the ideal of demons come to mine. First I sense angelic beings that looked within and discovered worlds but found one world fascinating. At first it seemed a dream but as they explored this ability they realized these were realities that they could manifest in but had to construct living vehicles to move into these dimensions and as this came to past, discovered they could bring things back which serve their purpose to heal their dying world. But as they mined this world for its resources, they were drawn to the natives there and found that they could derive physical pleasure but one thing they hadn't prepared for was the physical alterations into another form. In Earth terms, they took on a male appearance though their true nature for your understanding would have been androgynous and self-replicating. They found these new forms conducive for physical stimulation with the females. Not understanding that the change in their vibrations when they moved into this realty drew their interest to females on levels they had not comprehended. Than I think of the ideal that because these beings did not realize this, were attracted to the females, bore children by them which became vehicles for other watchers to incarnate into with other souls sharing the same body. Because of women's involvement with these beings and their offspring, women became demonized. The Watchers that were imprisoned within inside the Earth realms became the demons of legends. These are the things I am sensing teacher."

"This is very good. You have the Eyes of The Watcher. This is an ancient ability to see within and travel without moving. It is manipulating and affecting timelines. It was their hopes to create a being they could incarnate in and use this vehicle to pass into the world of the Life. They dared to attempt to enter the home of the First Awareness. This is what is feared. This is the secret your systems are hiding. It knows hybrids have the ability to fold space, to affect time lines with conscious intentions and bio-locate and teleport. The government has been looking for those who carry the bloodline of the Watchers. That is why Earth has become a laboratory. Beings want to manipulate the genetic bloodline to serve their own agenda. They do not want to believe or understand that emotions will be the freeing factors and that is why you are being led into places of great darkness to heal the original wounding so you can implant light codes into those realms so they can move to a higher light frequency. The worlds as you have come to experience will implode if they cannot handle the changing frequency. The Second Coming, as prophecy in your religious texts, will come from within.