Learning About Jews First Hand #3
[Yeah, this correspondence may be a little off-beat, but it's always a wonder and a joy to see a budding young anti-Semite finally put it all together and figure out what's been bugging him or her all these years. I've added some comments. - HAC]
I thought I'd write down something else about my sister's Masada 'thing'. Something I didn't mention during my email about my sister and her vision of us as sisters at Masada.
I also experienced visions and dreams of that. I googled, just now, to see a picture of the actual site. Harold, it's exactly as I've seen it in my mind's eye for all these years.
I was therefore so appalled by my sister's decision to go back and re-live that particular aspect of our past; re-claiming the Jew-ness, and therefore pro-claiming it as something desirable to do in the first place!? I didn't, don't, and never will understand that. (I also knew that she wanted me to join her, although the words were never spoken out loud.)
I've always been extra-sensitive to atmospheric variations; from people in particular. There are people, I've found, over my lifetime, that I simply cannot abide being in the presence of, for extended periods. The air becomes 'thick', and it eventually becomes physically difficult for me to breathe. I often end up with a headache, if I can't clear myself of the situation.
I'd always thought it was just individual people that were the problem. Something about them, their personalities, or something they'd done (i.e. drugs) was messing them up, energy-wise.
My first verification of my hypothesis that it was a people, not a person creating this disturbance came, when I went with my sister to Temple Beth-Whosit, in Portland, about 10 years ago. She invited me to accompany her to one of her Jew-classes at her synagogue (sin-agog? Hmm... one could have fun with that.)
The air inside the building was stifling. The stench was almost physical. It wasn't a literal scent (believe that or not) or problem with the air-conditioning. I simply can't describe the chaos emanating from each person in there; and since I was inside one of the actual places of 'War-Ship', the intensity was overwhelming.
Why did I stay there? I was there for my sister. She'd had a history of trying things and letting them go, after a while, and I wanted to see for myself what she was dealing with. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those fly-by-night things.
Also, my theory of (what I now call) The Stench was being verified in that experience. It was my wake-up call. However painful it was to endure, I'll always be grateful for it.
By George, I think she's got it!
Okay, first off: this is not a religious blog, the Northwest Migration is not a religious or occult movement, and this falls purely into my own personal rave bank, okay, we clear on that? I happen to know that reincarnation is for real, and I wrote a novel on the topic, but I'm not missionary about it and I don't insist anyone else share my opinions on the subject, got it? If you disagree, just put it down to another Haroldic eccentricity. We'll all find out soon enough, anyway.
Now: just because you were (maybe) at Masada, McKenzie, doesn't mean you were a Jew once, or your sister was either. In fact, odds are against it. (Here's where being an obscure history buff comes in very handy.)
Statistically, most of the people at Masada weren't Jews anyway. They were Romans, and I don't mean just legionaries or military. A Roman legionary army traveled with an entourage almost equal to its own size--porters, wagoners and muleteers, mechanics and engineers, sutlers and merchants and tavern keepers, bakers and butchers and cooks, laborers slave and otherwise, blacksmiths and farriers and horse grooms, armorers and swordsmiths, musicians, drovers, and of course all kinds of women--laundresses, army wives and girl friends, prostitutes, nurses, servants of various kinds, etc.
The siege of Masada by Titus Vespasian lasted over two years and he built an entire Roman city, albeit a temporary one, around the mountain. His forces at any given time probably topped 100,000 if you include all the hangers on, services personnel, camp followers, etc. You could have been at Masada and been anyone and everyone from a Jew to a German to a Briton to a Sicilian to a Greek or a Syrian or whatever.
Even if you were up on the mountain in the caves and whatnot with the Zealots, there is a good chance that you weren't Jewish. The Jews in Biblical times were extensive keepers of non-Jewish slaves, (in fact, that was the only kind they were allowed to keep, viz. Hagar in the Bible.) They continue this practice today in the form of the Palestinians, and even in those times, their Gentile slaves and associates in Palestine outumbered the "true Jews."
Secondly, I am going to tell you a story for what it's worth. I don't insist on this, it's just what someone told me.
One of the best psychics I ever knew was a Russian girl from New Jersey. (No, not the one you're thinking about.) She once described to me, down to my shoes, exactly what I was wearing while we were on a long distance phone call, her in New Jersey and me in Virginia.
Her big thing was she could see auras, or so she said, and analyze people from them. She told me that different races have different auras, and I don't remember much more of the details (this was about 30 years ago) but she did say that mixed-bloods, mulattos and mestizos, had a kind of fuzzy or confused aura, like static on a TV screen. She also said something else which I have never forgotten.
She vowed and swore that to her perception, anyway, Jews have no aura at all. They're dead, or at least not alive in the human sense, like trees and rocks and whatnot. Not even the same sense she would get off a dog or a cat. Purely chemical, biological life, devoid of innate essence. To be blunt, she said they had no human soul. I can't remember all the details, but I gather that her read on a Jew was kind of a flat-line thing; you see a flat line and hear a kind of dial tone, so there is power in the circuit, but nobody's home.
It has always been interesting to me in that Jews celebrate what is called the Yahrtzeit, the anniversary of the death of a loved one or a famous Jew, not his or her birth.
At the risk of starting a religious riot, I suppose I should mention in all honesty that I have also long held a polytheistic view that this world is kind of a divine kid's science project, an ant farm or terrarium, and that as part of this project, several different "kids" are responsible for making different versions of the same basic organism and are now watching on what we do with our little sandbox, how each version or pattern of the human life form reacts with one another, so they can write their report for the teacher.
Let's hope the divine parents don't get tired of us stinking up Junior's room and flush us down the cosmic toilet.