3

The Nature of Things

I am the greatest hunter of all the Northland. Who has been to Melville Bay, and all the way over to Point Barrow? I have a friend Makpo, he is old now, but he lives there: people’s livestheir real lives, all beginning at different times, and so ending: I will only visit him when I have killed the Great Ursus-arctos, and bring his fur, teeth, and head to him, if I do not, he will know I died with the bear, if he never sees the bear again: he is old, and as I said, his time is different than mine. As I was about to say, I have been down to Churchill, and to Disko Island. And many other places, so you see I have no choice; –it is me and the Great Grizzly. Yes, yes we have met before, of course. I have seen him from a distance roll like a ball to the bottom of a slope: tumbling like a rabbit, no, like a glacier rat, from miles away that is: he is so big he looks like a rat from miles away, but don’t be fooled, if you have to place to hind, and he smells blood, and he senses fear, he will come after you, and he is fast: old, but still fast: like Makpo, he is old now, and he will vanish form his calm and starry look. That is how huge he is. My grandfather said he was old and his teeth were of holes because of age, his teeth must have ached, and yes [Pause] I know now he has holes. He saw him in a vision; –he told me that Ursus had to eat animal’s whole, swallow a marmot and herbs whole. Yes, I can imagine, he has a big stomach.

I have hunted the walrus, even though I am a bear hunter by character, and reputation. But nonetheless, I like hunting what the bears hunt also. They hunt the walrus: I hunt the walrus, maybe I should have been a bear, I think sometimes I should have been. But I do not necessary like hunting with other hunters, although I have many times done so; the division of the walrus among several, gets to be severely small portions for the effort.

I have many dreams, like my grandfather used to have, –but then, then many in the Arctic have dreams, it is not uncommon; –for the real hunter must plan his moves, absorb them, perfection and balance is number one. Or you will be a dead man, a dead hunger, and your reputation will be mocked by all in the drinking nights, the nights we get drunk and toast to the bear hunt. If you live long enough in the Arctic you will discover a natural order to all of this, that they are all, all things connected to one another here. Like the bear and the walrus, and yes, then there is me. Things must live on, and so there is a season for most things. The more you look at order, the more you see and become part of its habitat, it is engulfing, slowly you become frozen alive, and you can’t leave this land of ice.

A shaman, like my grandfather was killed by a throat wound; the big bear knew this, and when he was asleep, when my father was asleep, he came over the top of the igloo, his igloo, and with his weight, he climbed on top of the igloo, and it cracked, the igloo cracked, then with a sweep of his paws, his mighty paws, one sweep, only one: he cut his throat with his claws, and left him there to bleed to death. Yet he never ate him. You see, the order of things must remain as it is. It is told that the Shaman can only be killed this way: and the bear knew it.

When this land has come to its end, my grandfather like Makpo, who now is old, says, the ice will melt, and swallow up all the land, and the weight of it will break the earths foundations, and what is on the bottom of the ocean will rise to the top, and be land, and what was land will be the floor of the ocean. And there will no longer be need for a cold land like this; like the North Pole, and it will go away, –as will the Thule, for Greenland will also disappear. The warm airs will sweep over the lands once again; Greenland stops the warm airs from doing this he told me. Strange as it sounds, I am glad I am living now, so I do not have to live in such a climate. I like this one, this is my birthright.

But I am the greater of the hunters, as you well know by now; I need not tell you this anymore. I am like the bear that makes a hole in the ice for the seal to come and pop his head up for air, and with a grab, pulls the seal out with his claws, and sits down for dinner. I, I in a like manner, find the hole, or make one, and wait for his head to rise, like the bear, and with my harpoon, I kill him. I sometimes hide under the snow, so he can’t sense me.

By the North Slope, the winters are extremely cold, and it looks like flat land, but the bear knows better. In the summer ice wedges make the terrain crack. Oh yes, the winter cold is the beast, even stronger than the bear, and me. If you do not acknowledge this, you are a forsaken man; or for that matter, a dead bear. As I was sayingthe winters are very cold, and the land contracts like a woman having birth-pains. I have walked it’s mud in the summer, and what is called permafrost, I call it permanently frozen ground, of a color made by the greet treeless architects.

Perhaps you know about the great phenomenon called the aurora, or Great Northern Lights; you should, they are like your blanket. Makpo, who was with my father when he was killed by the Great Bear, Ursus, told me the Great Spirit, took particles from the sun and threw them at the earths North Pole, they were many colors that he threw, and the Pole being a magnet field of sorts, and consequently, this caused the particles to shift, and the colors like a winding long tale of a whale in motion, shifting to a side, it created the lights in the sky. I sleep under these colors, these things: God made features: I am somewhat educated, so I only believe some of these stories: yes, they have truth to them Where else can you find them? Not in a city, I heard of them places, bigger than Barrow, one-hundred times bigger, unimaginable. You live and die in them big cities and never get cold, or see the lights, or feel the nearing of the bear: him, him right there. How unfortunate.

Let me tell you some more about me, and my journey in life. For the most part, the bearyou bearwere my life, after my mother and father died; and the bear I must kill, so I told myself I knew where he was, and is, and I know how to get him. It is the Great One I want, not his siblings. And he may have many. I have seen the Great One a few times with his children, many years ago. They also are huge now, but not like him. No bear is like him. My uncle told me the bear put his hand through the top of the igloo and killed my father with one sweep, and left Makpo [my uncle, my mother’s brother] alive to tell the story. He is a cleaver bear.

You may not believe this, but my father in l908, when I was but three years old met a Mr. Cook, he had an expedition. White men come and go. Write their books about this land, get what they call money, and go back to the big city and stay warm. They take many pictures to show how brave they are, yet they hire us to guide them, protect them, find food for them, not sure why they don’t take our pictures and tell folks back home, their home, they were useless without us. To be quite frank, without the wisdom of my mother, my father would not have lived as long as he did in the wild-cold of this Northland: and without my father’s books, I would not have been educated: a fair exchange: yes, yeswe have different times for different people: my time will end, and yours has, and, well, then that is that I suppose.

White explorers do not structure and trap fox. They don’t even know how to do it. You take stones and build a three-sided hut, put a piece of meat in it, when the fox comes to eat it, for he has smelled it long enough, and cannot resist the pain it causes any longer. It is psychological, like wanting whiskey; they want the blood they smell. Then as he creeps in, and he grabs the meat, the stone on top falls on him, and pins him to the ground, it crushes his ribs, he can no longer fight, or run, even if he lives, he is dead, no means of escape: he is a cripple, if not invalid for any future hunt and will starve to death. He is like a sea shell, empty. It is the order of things, the nature of the land, I know you know this, but I feel good when I say it. Maybe you forgot it.

Many people build igloos, but do not put ice in them for a window: clear ice; you must do that to see the bear coming. And the sledges of wood are no good, yet that is what the men from the great cities bring; they must be made out of whale bone, joined together by seal skin. No nails, no wood. I like the way my people make our own sledges; it is the only way to do it, –if you die in the wild you cannot blame anyone because of a broken sledge then, no one but yourself: it is your fault if your sledge no longer can go. Long life depends on the pride of your sledge. The runners muse is of bone, whale, seal or walrus. Then you will be safe, I assure you.

Makpo was my mother’s youngest brother. He will live a long life, he is a man of many means, –I should say, was, for he is old now. That is why he lives in Barrow.

My mother was a small woman, but not for a Thule I suppose, of which she was one half Thule. She was born in l885. I was born in l905, in a cold month, so my mother told me. She carried me all around. I remember her rounded cheerful face, a long pretty bridged nose; –long thick black hair. Her eyes were not round like mine that is all I can remember. Her skin had a glow to it though. Very strong, she was so very strong, ohoo, she’d carry me everyplace on her back, in her sack. She told me,

“each person is made for some reason.”

They are wise words, but dangerous ones, she implied: if you do not follow through on a life plan, you will miss your opportunity for that mission, that reason. My plan has always been to kill the Great One. Then my desires will end: my plan, my mission, my reason. And although I will survive, my desire, like the whiskey, will rest in peace.

You may be asking yourself: ‘why is he telling me all this,’ it is because I must. Someone else must know this. It is like the writer, why writes if you do not have someone to read. In a like manner, why talk, if you do not want it to live on: someone must listen. I am sitting right at this very moment in an igloo; I built a few days ago. I have six dogs outside, with orange looking eyes; I can see them through my ice window. The arctic sky is lit up tonight with the miracle lights, they are white, yellow and green. I have five white dogs, and one black and white dog, with tints of brown interweaved throughout his frame: he is the leader. I am a little hungry with all this talking, I’d like to have a piece of black bear meat, I like that, and it is tender and well flavored. In the past, I have mostly found them in the Canadian area of the Northlands, in the forest south. I was going to mention it before, but I didn’t, that is, my grandpa took me a few times to warmer climates south of here, or better put, for short periods of time. And this is where I learned a lot of my hunting skills.

He once took me down to this cold, dark subterranean tunnel, where upon I discarded many objects, old torches laying about, found access to a crypt, skeletons of: children, women; all skeletal remains laying about. He said theythe people the bones belonged to were used for sacrifices. This underworld chamber was of a maddening culture long gone. That is when he called me: The Great Bear Hunter, Tipi. I killed many black bears in that land back then.

But let me not forget what I was about to say, I am in this igloo I have made…

See Dennis’ books and travels at: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

You might be surprised by the breadth and reach of the influence of Plato. Even Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of his progeny. Emerson also had a lot of Swedenborgian Rosicrucian leanings and was heavily influenced by Thomas Carlyle whose biographers have still not figured out what his secret was that made him tell them they would never get him or his life right. That secret ties Carlyle and Goethe to Swift and other literary and scientific members of the Hibernians who oversee the Priory of Sion and Royal Society. Here is what Columbia Encyclopedia on the web has to offer.

We must not forget that a large part of the effort to integrate philosophy and spirituality has been done, and sometimes people called Nazis (Carlyle) had a lot to do with fostering the humanitarian movement and what is called transcendentalism. Emerson is one of the greats along with Thoreau and Whitman - at least in their influence on my life as I grew up.

“The writer’s father, William Emerson, a descendant of New England clergymen, was minister of the First Unitarian Church in Boston. Emerson’s early years were filled with books and a daily routine of studious and frugal homelife. After his father’s death in 1811, his eccentric but brilliant aunt, Mary Moody Emerson, became his confidante and stimulated his independent thinking. At Harvard (1817-21) he began recording his thoughts in the famous Journal. Poor health hindered his studies at the Harvard divinity school in 1825, and in 1826, after being licensed to preach, he was forced to go south because of incipient tuberculosis. In 1829 he became pastor of the Old North Church in Boston (Second Unitarian). In the same year he married Ellen Tucker, whose death from tuberculosis in 1831 caused him great sorrow.

Emerson’s personal religious scruples and, in particular, his conviction that the Lord’s Supper was not intended by Christ to be a permanent sacrament led him into conflict with his congregation. In 1832 he retired from his only pastorate. On a trip to Europe at this time he met Carlyle (who became a close friend), Coleridge, and Wordsworth. Through these notable English writers, Emerson’s interest in transcendental thought began to blossom. Other strong influences on his philosophy, besides his own Unitarian background, were Plato and the Neoplatonists, the sacred books of the East, the mystical writings of Swedenborg, and the philosophy of Kant. He returned home in 1834, settled in Concord, Mass. and married (1835) his second wife, Lydia Jackson.”

I feel it is imperative to place some real history in this book. There are so many people who know something is wrong with our history and they believe in fictions like Atlantis which was based on Plato in large part. I feel quite passionate about these matters as you will see. This excerpt is taken from my book The Rising Roman Empire.

BERBERS ARE BEES TOO?

I must admit I was both pleased and surprised to read various Stuart historians during my research, saying that the Berbers are part of the Stuart lineage. Niven Sinclair and William Hamilton Stewart may not be the best sources but they give the more unvarnished picture of the situation even if it does appear a bit racist. After all is said and done my Hamilton/Lynn/Burke (mother) and Baird/King/Keough (father) genetic background have a lot of elitist people who gave up trying to make the world a better place for everyone.

I cannot say exactly when the pendulum turned fully towards the present malaise and I cannot be sure when it was that they became free and safe through the use of their advanced technology and use of islands as defendable homelands. The defendable mountains and islands seem to have been sought out rather soon after the Caucasians became more than just a curiosity. One of the key places of development is in the Tarim Basin surrounded by mountains and a desert. It may even have been the original Mediterranean (’between two mountain ranges).

My guess is the elitist campaign happened around the time Sinclair says he can trace his family to the Berbers - about 20,000 years ago. I think they made a deal with an Asian group at that juncture. The legends of MU and Atlantis take a lot of interpreting and analysis in comparison with the known artifacts. The Royal Bloodlines are just as complex and important to examine. You will not find it in Cahill’s book on the Jews. (1)

As I often say - Plato was a ‘front’ man who made the story of Atlantis to suit his elite family and the needs of the ruling classes who were Hellenizing all knowledge. Now, you can see - I don’t believe in aliens as our forbears, or Atlantis. But you might be surprised how many times people tell me that is what my history sounds like. Funny thing - that is what their history is founded upon. That, and a growing hierarchy that put some men above others and all men over women in their class. It is not a ‘his’-story I enjoy or promote the continuance of, but I do have to face the facts that it is what most people believe.

Plato was the descendant of the wise Solon and I suspect his Danaus forbears are related to the Semitic Sargon the Great. In his era Ptolemy certainly drew his family tree back to the Danaus or Danaan great by the name of Herakles or Hercules. We will see that the Antonine Roman Emperors are of this same lineage. In the case of Ptolemy, who was put in charge of Egypt by the Kelt/Thracian/Macedonian hermeticist Alexander, he encouraged Manetho to write a Kings List which drew his lineage to Hercules. This is evidence of the founders of Egypt being Danaan or de Danaan in the line of Isis and Osiris. That Kings List forms the basis of the Bible Narrative and Egyptology today. It has some errors - to say the least.

However, it is of interest to note that Manetho has Isis coming to found Egypt around the time that we see the genetics shows the white man came to exist. Also we have recent archaeological proof of deep mining engineering here at that time. Isis Pelasgi is one of the continuing titles of the Ptolemaic lineage including Cleopatra. And we saw the Pelasgi in the quote from ESOP earlier. The Berber ’sea people’ or ‘pirates’ include those people who lived in Genoa around 2000 BC. The Cisalpine Gauls including the great historian Livy and his family will play a major role along with their Veneti ‘brothers’ of Brittany as our history continues. For now it is important to say that the name of Brittany and Britain come from one of these Keltic families named Bruttii or Brutus who are Sons of Aeneas and Trojan War heroes; just like the family of Julius Caesar who they later assassinated. These extended families kept a verbal (sometimes written) history that forms the basis of the kind of things that Royals and Knights Malta still place great value upon. Here is a response to a person (Essene Templar that he is) which I made in a Grail project I am involved in researching.

‘When I use the term extended family I am hearkening back to a time and place such as you suggested had little or no real ecclesiastical structure. Elder Council ran places that never really wanted any of the genocide practiced upon them by those trying to help them PROGRESS by nice sounding phrases like Manifest Destiny.

This kind of structure was part of what almost died off in most of the world at the end of the Punic Wars, but the land use laws of Ireland and indeed most of the ethics were still there until the 17th Century. It is a time when hereditary kings did not exist and FREEDOM was the most valuable resource of adventurous and creative or daring people. Brotherhood was real and women were equal. There was enough of it left in Carthage when Aristotle visited for him to be impressed with the Democratic reality of the society. In reference to Jesus, I would tend to agree with what you said.

But there is a lot more to it. THE DAVID are also (in an earlier time) THE BRUCE or Bruttii. His family were very wise and had been back to Melchizedek if not before that. His brother was the leader of the Essenes and he was from the wealthy stock of Solomon. I believe he went to India and other places. I am almost certain he spent time with Comarius who tutored Cleopatra in Egypt. There is a reason the Gnostics saved the Dag Hammadi Scrolls that give the best insight to Jesus and his brothers. They were willing to die for it.

As you know the families and even community of Jews still help each other get a head start in whatever business they are into. I hear you get to fail a couple of times if necessary too. But the corruption of values and the denominational in-fighting has even affected Samoa in the last decade. So I can not point to any large scale current models of what kind of society was looked over and advised by the pan-tribal Druids who treated the whole of their society with respect. The Cathars might have been their last large-scale attempt. They were scientists and administrators and not religious as we think of churches. In fact churches were outdoors and they had nothing to hide.’

Author of Diverse Druids. Columnist for The ES Press Magazzine, Guest writer at World-Mysteries.com