When you're young you know everything. As you become middle-aged you tend to question everything. And when you get old you realize everything is so bizarre and ridiculous that it makes no sense at all.

 t seems like every year, about this time, I have another birthday. If my new age doesn’t end in a zero, I try not to dwell on it too much. The older the fiddler, the sweeter the tune.

 I usually spend much of the day listening to music, taking a retrospective trip down memory lane. Nostalgia isn't what is used to be, except on birthdays. It’s interesting how certain songs will trigger memories of specific segments of my life.

"We skipped the light fandango and turned cartwheels cross the floor

I was feeling kind of seasick, the crowd called out for more

The room was humming harder and the ceiling flew away

When we called out for another drink, the waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later, as the miller told his tale

That her face at first so ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale"

(A WHITER SHADE OF PALE by Gary Brooker and Keith Reid)

Music is the language of the angels. When the right song hits you, you feel no pain. It brings splendor to loneliness and the heartbreak of love.

"If I were a carpenter and you were a lady

Would you marry me anyway, would you have my baby

If a tinker were my trade, would you still find me

Carrying the pots I'd made, following behind me

Save my love through loneliness, save my love for sorrow

I've given you my only-ness, come give me your tomorrow" 

(IF I WERE A CARPENTER by Tim Hardin)

I was born at precisely the right time to suit my musical taste buds. When I became a teen-ager, a new musical style called rock-and-roll had just been invented, thrusting the whole country into a generation-gap frenzy. Teen-agers loved the beat, but everyone over thirty basically thought the world was about to come to an end. While many of my classmates in the late 50s and early 60s swooned over Pat Boone, Ricky Nelson, the Everly Brothers and Elvis, I tended to like the heavy hitters like Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Bo Diddley.

"I walk 47 miles of barbed wire

I use a cobra snake for a necktie

I got a brand new house on the roadside

Made from rattlesnake hide

I got a brand new chimney made on top

Made out of a human skull

Now come on take a little walk with me, Arlene

And tell me, who do you love?"

(WHO DO YOU LOVE by Bo Diddley)

As years went by, my music taste expanded into the blues, including John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Reed and many of the old-timers.

"Got me working, boss man, working 'round the clock

I want me a drink of water but you won't let me stop

Big boss man, can't you hear me when I call

Well, you ain't so big, you just tall, that's all"

(BIG BOSS MAN by Jimmy Reed)

When I was in college, I discovered folk music. Bob Dylan, Tom Rush, David Bromberg, Paul Simon — profound hidden messages in the lyrics.

"Get born, keep warm, short pants, romance, learn to dance

Get dressed, get blessed, try to be a success

Please her, please him, buy gifts, don't steal, don't lift

Twenty years of schooling and they put you on the day shift"

(SUBTERRANEAN HOMESICK BLUES by Bob Dylan)

Years passed and I became a working stiff in my 30s, into the Rolling Stones, Joe Cocker, Credence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin, George Thorogood, Taj Mahal, Canned Heat and Joy of Cooking.

"I'm going where the water tastes like wine

We can jump in the water, stay drunk all the time"

(GOING UP THE COUNTRY by Canned Heat)

I moved into the Hollywood Hills for a couple of years. Two of my closest neighbors were aspiring actor Harrison Ford and singer-songwriter Danny O'Keefe.

"Everybody's gone away

Said they're movin' to L.A.

There's not a soul I know around

Everybody's leaving town

Some caught a freight, some caught a plane

Find the sunshine, leave the rain

They said this town will waste their time

Guess they're right – it's wasting mine

Some gotta win, some gotta lose

Good Time Charlie's got the blues"

(GOOD TIME CHARLIE'S GOT THE BLUES by Danny O'Keefe)

In my moody forties, I couldn’t get enough JJ Cale.

"I go down there every chance I get
It`s where my baby she met her death
And the river runs deep and the water is cold as ice
Ain`t no woman gonna make a fool out of me"
(RIVER RUNS DEEP by JJ Cale)

On occasion, I even found myself liking Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, Pink Floyd, Moody Blues, The Doors, soft jazz and new age sounds.

"When I was just a baby, my mama told me, 'Son,

Always be a good boy; don't ever play with guns.'

But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die

When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry"

(FOLSOM PRISON BLUES by Johnny Cash)

In my fifties, I became more conscious of the world around me.

"Everybody knows that the dice are loaded, everybody rolls with their fingers crossed

Everybody knows that the war is over, everybody knows the good guys lost

Everybody knows the fight was fixed, the poor stay poor, the rich get rich

That's how it goes, everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking, everybody knows that the captain lied

Everybody got this broken feeling, like their father or their dog just died"

(EVERYBODY KNOWS by Leonard Cohen)

Sometimes it doesn't matter if the lyrics make sense. If it sounds right, it is right.

"Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come

Corporation tee-shirts, stupid bloody Tuesday

Man, you've been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long

I am the eggman.

They are the eggmen.

I am the walrus.

Koo Koo Kachoo."

(I AM THE WALRUS by John Lennon and Paul McCartney)

Basically, I can listen to music and reflect upon a time in my life when I first heard it. Every time I hear Sonny and Cher singing “I got you Babe,” I think about the woman I was seeing back then. The Rolling Stones remind me of my Army stint, while Simon and Garfunkel bring back my college days. And whenever JJ Cale does “Cajun Moon” or “The Fate of a Fool,” I remember my years living alone on a mountaintop, seeking answers to questions I hadn’t even thought of yet.

The purpose in life is to grow and I've been able to accomplish that in all directions, except vertically.

"I have my books and my poetry to protect me

I am shielded in my armor, hiding in my room, safe within my womb

I touch no one and no one touches me

I am a rock

I am an island

And a rock feels no pain

And an island never cries"

(I AM A ROCK by Paul Simon)

Tuesday, August 10, is my birthday.  Excuse me while I kiss the sky, and break on through to the other side.

Whiskey River don't run dry.

Koo Koo Kachoo.

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Quote for the Day — "Music in the soul can be heard by the universe." Lao Tzu

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where writing about music is like dancing about accounting. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

THE SUMMER OF LOVE

In January of 1967, a "Be-In" took place in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. A counterculture of long-haired rebellious youth, called hippies, was emerging in the Haight-Ashbury district and the news media loved it.

During spring break, college students began pouring into the San Francisco Bay Area. Soon, an estimated 100,000 young people from around the world had flocked to the scene to frolic in a spontaneous free-for-all.

"If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair."

"If you're going to San Francisco, summertime will be a love-in there."

Song lyrics by The Mamas and The Papas in May of 1967.

On June 1, 1967, four lads from Liverpool, England, who called themselves The Beatles, released their latest album, "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." It became a certified Gold album on the first day of its release.

It was also the unofficial start of what was about to become the Summer of Love.

On June 16, a three-day International Pop Music Festival opened in Monterey, south of San Francisco. It was the world's first major rock festival. Over 200,000 people attended the event.

Some of the 32 performers groups included Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, The Mamas and the Papas, Canned Heat, The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Otis Redding, Lou Rawls, Simon and Garfunkel, Johnny Rivers, Buffalo Springfield, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Country Joe and the Fish, Moby Grape, Booker T and the MGs, The Byrds, The Who, The Association, Eric Burton and the Animals, etc.

And if you don't know who most of those folks are, I pity you. There's some great music in this crowd.

Elsewhere in the world, it was anything but a summer of love 40 years ago.

During the summer of 1967, the Vietnam Conflict was going strong. I was in a U.S. Army uniform in Atlanta at the time, doing my best to maintain my sanity as a draftee until I could become a civilian once again.

On June 5, The Six-Day War erupted. Israel, fearing an imminent attack, struck Egyptian military targets. Jordan, Syria and Iraq entered the conflict. Israel annexed Arab East Jerusalem, captured the Golan Heights (from Syria), the Gaza Strip, the West Bank (from Jordan) and the Sinai (from Egypt). It ended in six days.

In the middle of the Six Day War, Israel attacked the USS Liberty, a U.S. Navy ship stationed in the Mediterranean Sea, killing 34 and wounding 171 crewmen. Apparently, Israel mistook it for an Egyptian vessel. Commander William L. McGonagle was awarded the Medal of Honor for remaining on the bridge and keeping the ship afloat for 17 hours despite multiple wounds. Israel apologized and paid $12 million in compensation.

On July 6, the Biafran War erupted in eastern Nigeria in Africa. It stemmed from rebellion against ethnic cleansing by government forces and would last more than two years, claiming some 600,000 lives.

Race riots were a popular sport that summer. They occurred on June 2 in Boston, Mass., June 11 in Tampa, Fla., June 27 in Buffalo, NY (14 shot, 200 arrested), July 12 in Newark, NJ (27 killed, 1,500 injured, over 1,000 arrested), July 17 in Cairo, Ill., July 19 in Durham, NC, July 20 in Memphis, Tenn., July 23-30 in Detroit, Mich (40 dead, 2,000 injured, 5,000 homeless), July 24 in Cambridge, Md., and July 30 in Milwaukee, Wis. (4 killed).

On July 29, 134 servicemen were killed on the USS Forrestal in the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of Vietnam.

On July 30, Gen. William Westmoreland declared we were winning in Vietnam but needed more troops.

On August 3, President Lyndon Johnson authorized 45,000 more troops to be sent to Vietnam.

The hippies in San Francisco weren't too concerned with problems elsewhere. It was their summer of love.

But the fun soon ended. Overcrowding, crime, homelessness and drug problems overwhelmed the quickly deteriorating Haight-Ashbury neighborhood. Most of the students returned home to resume college studies.

On October 7, those remaining held a mock "Death to the Hippie" funeral. The Summer of Love was over.

For me, the Summer of Love was in 1968. I became a civilian again and kissed the ground when I got home.

Several years later, I spent 3 weeks roaming around San Francisco. I even caught Janis Joplin playing a gig in a church basement during some sort of fund raising event. She sent enough electricity through the place to light the Fisherman's Warf and the Golden Gate Bridge. Fabulous city. But my inclination for a reclusive lifestyle sent me back on the road.

Love is the only sane answer to human existence — it's not so much gazing into each other's eyes, but looking together in the same direction. It's the art of persistence and endless forgiveness. To find someone who will love you for no reason is the ultimate bliss. It's when the happiness of another becomes essential to your own happiness.

I have plenty of love these days — I have a dog.

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Quote for the Day — "All you need is love." John Lennon (killed by assassin)

Quote for the Day — "A coward is incapable of exhibiting love — it is the prerogative of the brave." Mohandas Gandhi (killed by assassin)

Quote for the Day — "Things do not happen — things are made to happen." John F. Kennedy (killed by assassin)

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where things do not happen. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

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I did my Basic Training at Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri, then was permanently stationed at Third Army Headquarters at Ft. McPherson in Atlanta, Georgia.

Ft. McPherson was a small post, primarily a golf course and an Officer’s Club. The office complex was occupied by throngs of senior officers, including an assortment of generals, no doubt making key decisions like deciding what color to paint the new wing of the Officer’s Club and how many soldiers it should take to screw in a light bulb.

I had four years of college and had been a computer programmer when I was drafted, thus I was assigned to the Third Army Data Processing Company where I was issued two blue pencils, assigned to a desk and given the title of Data Processing Analyst. I also received a Top Secret security clearance because I would have access to sensitive information and spent the remainder of my two-year commitment working night shift, along with a few other analysts, for a civilian employee. My duties consisted of coding certain items on classified documents that were subsequently forwarded to another department for computer processing.

Basically, events in Vietnam had little effect on me or my fellow analysts. We just did our jobs and counted the days until we could go back into the civilian world. But every now and then, we were required to perform extra duties. One such duty was funeral detail. The family of every deceased soldier is entitled to a military funeral and requests were frequent in those days.

It takes 17 soldiers to perform a military funeral. Six soldiers carry the casket, two of whom fold the flag draped over the coffin and hand it to an officer who then passes it on to a family member. Seven soldiers stand at attention off in the distance, waiting to give a 21-gun salute, along with a sergeant to give the orders. Finally, a bugler lingers nearby to play Taps, often out of sight, while the driver usually waits at the bus. I participated in many funeral details, each one a supremely sad ordeal.

One was in a tiny family graveyard, in the middle of the woods outside of Sevierville, Tennessee, near the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. By the time the proceedings started, there must have been a thousand people crammed in the small clearing, all mourning the loss of one of their own. Whoever we were burying would certainly be missed.

Another Army funeral was performed in central Alabama. It was a rowdy white-redneck crowd where a few of the attendees took exception to that fact that the diseased was one of them (white) and there were a couple of black soldiers in the funeral ceremony. The 1960s in the Deep South were still highly racially divided. It became very tense and confrontational, to the point of attaching bayonets to our rifles. There are four stages of grief — denial, anger, depression, acceptance. If you attend a few military funerals, you’ll get to see all four stages.

The most gut-wrenching experience took place on top of Lookout Mountain, outside of Chattanooga, in an old Civil War Cemetery. Several hundred people attended. It was an incredibly quiet day, not a breath of wind. The whole place seemed haunted.

The service was performed flawlessly, the flag folded and presented to the family. As usual, I was one of the seven soldiers standing in line, waiting to give the 21-gun salute. Even though we were at least fifty yards away, we could hear a tremendous sorrow overtaking the audience. Several women began to wail uncontrollably.

We went through our paces and fired off three volleys, a 21-gun salute, then stood at attention. After a couple of seconds of silence, the bugler started playing Taps. It was the most beautiful version I had ever heard, as if it came directly from heaven.

In the background, the sound of mass anguish became overwhelming. It seemed like the entire audience had burst out crying. When Taps ended, there wasn’t a dry eye on that mountaintop, including those of us putting on the show. To this day, I can’t listen to Taps without dwelling on that moment of grief and wondering how many others like it mankind must endure before we learn to live in harmony.

The following list reflects the number of Americans who gave their lives for their country.

American Revolution (1775-1783) – 4,435 dead
War of 1812 (1812-1815) – 2,260 dead
Mexican War (1846-1848) – 13,283 dead
American Civil War (1861-1865) – 558,052 dead
Spanish American War (1898) – 2,446 dead
World War I (1914-1918) – 116,708 dead
World War II (1939-1945) – 407,316 dead
Korean Police Action (1950-1953) – 33,651 dead
Vietnam Conflict (1957-1975) – 58,168 dead
Gulf War (1991) – 293 dead
War on Terrorism (2001-????) – in progress

May 31 is Memorial Day, when the USA pays tribute to those who sacrificed their lives for the ideals of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. We are deeply indebted for their valiant service.

Freedom is never free.
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Quote for the Day — “We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home.” Edward R. Murrow
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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where freedom is still worth dying for. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111
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As of March 2010, the Social Security system of the United States of America now has a negative cash flow — spending more money on benefits that it takes in via payments into the fund.

In fact, there is no fund — it all goes straight into other federal government expenses, which currently far exceeds revenues and will continue to get progressively worse for the foreseeable future.

President Franklin Roosevelt (Democrat) introduced the Social Security system in 1935. Republicans in Congress wanted it to be voluntary but Democrats were in control and yearning for socialistic reforms so the system became mandatory.

The program required employees to pay 1.5 cents for each dollar they earned, beginning in 1940, up to $3,000. The employer was required to match the contributions. In 1943, the contribution was to increase to 2 cents per dollar, and in 1949 scheduled to increase to 3 cents per dollar.

"That is the most you will ever pay." promised Congress in their 1936 Social Security pamphlet. Had congress lived up to its promise, the maximum annual Social Security tax would be $90 instead of over $6,000.

When the Social Security program was first set up, its funds were put into a secure trust account. To cope with huge expenditures during the Vietnam War, President Lyndon Johnson (Democrat) and the Democratically-controlled congress eliminated the trust fund whereupon Social Security taxes were diverted directly into the general fund.

The Social Security Trust Fund no longer exists. It's now a "pay as you go" system.

Today, the Social Security system is a sheer disaster. People are living longer and the birth rates have been leveling off. In 1950, there were 16 workers for every person receiving benefits. Presently, there are only 3 workers for every beneficiary. By 2018, there will be only two workers per beneficiary. 

In March of 2010, the system started running a deficit, paying out more money than it takes in. In the near future, as Baby Boomers enter the system, it will be unable to pay promised benefits.

Simply raising Social Security taxes is not the solution. To maintain promised entitlements, Social Security taxes will have to eventually be raised to an astonishing 45 percent of wages.

The national debt (money borrowed against the future to be paid by future generations) currently exceeds $12 trillion. Our nation's annual deficit is at the highest levels in history with no end in sight. We spend more than we take in and defer this irresponsibility onto our children and grandchildren. Every child born in America today is automatically $52,000 in debt.

To add further damage to this obscene debt burden, the Obama Administration bullied a national health care system into law, which adds further to the national debt and requires 16,000 new IRS employees to administer the collection of mandatory insurance fees.

When Medicare was first created in 1965, the politicians projected the cost in 1992 would be $3 billion. The actual cost in 1992 was $110 billion. These same inept politicians have driven this country into a $12 trillion national debt. Instead of reforming a broken health system, the Obama Administration expanded the broken system into a colossal, expansive, expensive, bureaucratic, ineffective broken system.

The collective insanity of those running this country can only be measured in cubits of donkey and elephant dung.

Or perhaps there is another explanation.

Power doesn’t corrupt — it attracts the corruptible.

There is a growing belief among thoughtful citizens with a brain larger than a walnut that this disaster was orchestrated by powerful global elites, particularly international bankers (Rothschild, Rockefeller, etc.), in order to gain control of the entire planet (a New World Order). Their ultimate goal is a one-world government, with a one-world single currency, maintained and controlled by these international bankers. Thus, they would become even richer and more powerful.

And in order to achieve this goal of global dominance, they must first bring down the current financial systems, particularly the USA.

Global disasters require global solutions. However, upon close scrutiny, those who create the disasters become those with the solutions, thereby manipulating events in their favor.

Democracy is the illusion that someone is listening. In reality, you’re either the property of others or you’re on your own.

Freedom is living your life as you choose, as long as you are not infringing on someone else’s freedom.

More government means less freedom.

Those currently in power in the USA are systematically enslaving their subjects and thrusting the country into financial ruin.

The first course of action when you are being enslaved by others is to recognize you are being enslaved by others.

The second course of action is to do something about it. Plenty of options — ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist, play golf, get drunk, bang your head against the wall, go fishing, watch TV, eat lots of food, go shopping, make more kids, play tennis, paint a picture, clean out the garage, go dancing, seek divine intervention, snap some photos, new hairstyle, take a nap, bitch and moan, meditate, wish upon a star, etc., etc.

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Quote for the Day — “The American people will never knowingly adopt socialism. But, under the name of liberalism, they will adopt every fragment of the socialist program, until one day America will be a socialist nation, without knowing how it happened.” Norman Mattoon Thomas (1884-1968 — six-time presidential candidate for the Socialist Party of America)

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where the price of freedom is higher than a cubit of dung. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

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LIST #1 – England, Scotland, Sweden, Denmark, Egypt, Lebanon, Palestine, Jerusalem, Damascus, London, Paris, Berlin, Warsaw, Dallas, Houston, Hollywood, Delaware, Kentucky, Kansas, Washington, Northern Ohio

LIST #2 – Ain, Alf, Aly, Amy, Apt, Ard, Bay, Ben, Coy, Day, Fox, Gid, Hon, Ida, Imo, Ink, Ivy, Joy, Kay, Keo, Meg, Rex, Roe, Rye, Tag, Tip, Ulm, Uno, Van, Wye

LIST #3 – Toad Suck, Oil Trough, Marked Tree, Booger Hollow, Greasy Corner, Turkey Scratch, Three Way, Lick Branch, Old Joe, Old Jenny Lind, Point Peter, Hog Jaw, Gum Log, Half Moon, One Horse Store, Number Nine, Twenty-three, Fifty-six, Morning Sun, Evening Shade, Possum Grape, Monkey Run

ANSWER: They are all towns in Arkansas.

Arkansas is known as the natural state. It's also the state where naming towns ranks very high on the Weird-O-Meter.

Many years ago, a Polk County schoolteacher sent out notices to suggest names for the new post office, requesting that they “write in ink” – thus the town of Ink came into being.

In 1811, a group of hunters camped along the White River near Batesville. They killed over 100 bears for their oil, a valuable commodity at the time. When they ran out of buckets to accumulate the oil they fashioned troughs to store it until shipment downstream could be arranged. Thus the community of Oil Trough was born.

On the bank of the St. Francis River in Poinsett County a large tree once contained slashes marking the best place for early settlers to cross the river. In 1890, the tree was washed away in a flood, but the town of Marked Tree still exists. Nowadays, most folks usually cross on the bridge.

In early America, “Boogie-man” was a term used by people who had the parenting skills of a head of lettuce and wanted to scare their kids. In the mountainous region of northwest Arkansas, the term was eventually changed to “Boogie-bear” and later dropped to “Booger.” Whoever named Booger Hollow obviously didn’t want any kids snooping around. They probably didn’t want any revenuers poking around either.

There was once a steamboat landing on the Arkansas River where a popular tavern attracted many river boatmen to suck whiskey until they swelled up like toads. The eventual name of the town, Toad Suck, was derived from a French term meaning “a narrow channel in the river.”  Since no one full of whiskey could understand French anyway, the name "Toad Suck" stuck.

Arkansas is a land of rocks. You will discover this if you ever try to dig a posthole for your mailbox. Thus many towns are named after rocks, such as Black Rock, Calico Rock, Flat Rock, Galla Rock, Gray Rock, Little Rock, North Little Rock, Sulphur Rock, White Rock, Rock Hill, Rock Springs and Rocky Mound. Madison County has a town named Rock – the guy who had the list of adjectives was probably missing during the meeting to name the town.

Like most other states in the USA, many town names carried over from the language used by the original Native American inhabitants to refer to the area. In Arkansas, these include Okolona, Ogenaw, Osceola, Pawheen, Wabbaseka, Washita, Watalula and Wampoo. If I'm not mistaken, Watalula means "white man move in and spoil the neighborhood."

Three Way is an interesting name for a town. I remember a long weekend I had many moons ago with a couple of twins from Lick Branch named Bertha and Beulah, the Butt sisters. Every time one of us had the urge to do something different (such as change channels on TV or whatever), we would yell “Tag Hon” — turns out that Tag and Hon are Arkansas town names too. Go figure.

It’s a strange world full of coincidences and synchronicities. I even know a woman from Scotland and Hollywood. Both are Arkansas towns but she is from the real deal, in different lifetimes. In Scotland, you’re born with a sense of honor. In Hollywood, you’re born with a sense of make-believe. In Arkansas, you’re born with a sense of raising chickens.

I've lived in Arkansas for nearly 20 years now, a few miles outside of Salem in Fulton County. There is also Salem in Lee County, Salem in Pike County, Salem in Saline County and Salem in Ouachita County. Apparently, there's a rule in Arkansas that you can't use the same name for towns more times than you have fingers on your left hand.

In Arkansas, the value of your pickup truck goes up and down depending on how much gas you have in the tank. If you think that’s weird, wait until you meet some of the folks who live there. And be sure to drive carefully through Greasy Corner.

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Quote for the Day — “It depends on what the word is is.” Bill Clinton (famous Arkansan)

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and is midway between Scotland and Hollywood, as the crow flies. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

COSMIC MASTER OF THE SEVENTH RAY

Francis Bacon (1561-1626) was a philosopher, scientist, statesman and author of Shakespearean plays in England.

On Easter Sunday in 1626, Sir Francis Bacon faked his death and later attended his own funeral in disguise. Then he traveled secretly to the Rakoczy Mansion in Romania (Transylvania region) where he prepared for his ascension.

During his preparations, Bacon chose the name “Saint Germain” to be his Ascended Master name upon his physical ascension from the carnal world. From the Latin “Sanctus Germanus” it means “Holy Brother.”

On May 1, 1684, St. Germain physically ascended into his higher realm, where he is known as the Cosmic Master of the Seventh Ray.

The Seven Rays is a metaphysical concept within several esoteric philosophies and religions, including Hindu, Gnosticism, Mithraism, Theosophy, esoteric astrology, Ascended Masters Teachings, various New Age movements and so forth.

The Seven Rays, which are seven elements of universal wisdom and unconditional love, are forces of cosmic energy that make up all world systems. Each ray has a different vibration, frequency and color. They are keys to the Path of Enlightenment.

The Seventh Ray is violet and represents the qualities of transformation, freedom, justice and forgiveness.

St. Germain, Cosmic Master of the Seventh Ray, has had many incarnations on Planet Earth.

60,000 BC — Ruler of the Golden Age in Egypt

11,000 BC — High Priest on Atlantis

1,100 BC — Prophet Samuel in Israel (last of the Hebrew judges)

700 BC — Heslod in Greece (poet)

427-347 BC — Plato in Greece (philosopher)

50 BC — Joseph (husband of Mary, earthly father of Jesus)

300 AD — St. Alban in England (the first martyr of England)

410-485 — Proclus in Greece (philosopher, mathematician, astronomer)

503-579 AD — Merlin in England (with King Arthur at Camelot)

1220-1292 AD — Roger Bacon in England (philosopher, alchemist, mathematician)

1300 AD — Christian Rosenkreuz in Germany (organizer of secret societies)

1451-1506 AD — Christopher Columbus in Italy (ocean voyages to the New World)

1561-1626 AD — Francis Bacon in England (philosopher, playwright)

1710-1935 AD — St. Germain (alchemist, inventor, composer, linguist)

As St. Germain (1710-1935), he never revealed his background and never seemed to age, perpetually maintaining a physical appearance of a man between forty and fifty years old.

St. Germain’s first chronicled appearances were in 1743 in London and in 1745 in Edinburgh, where he was arrested for spying. Upon his release, he gained a reputation as an accomplished violinist. In 1746, Horace Walpole declared, “He sings, plays the violin wonderfully, composes, is mad and not very sensible.”

In 1758, St. Germain showed up in Paris where he was an acquaintance of King Louis XV and Madame de Pompadour, gave away diamonds as gifts and hinted at being many centuries old.

In 1760, St Germain left France for England, by way of Holland where the Minister of State attempted to have him arrested.

Later, St Germain traveled through the Netherlands into Russia. He was in St. Petersburg when the Russian Army put Catherine the Great on the throne. Certain conspiracy theories credit him for causing the rift.

The following year, St. Germain appeared in Belgium. While negotiating with Belgian minister Karl Cobenzl, he hinted at being at royal lineage and turned iron into something resembling gold.

After disappearing for 11 years, St. Germain appeared in Bavaria in 1774, calling himself Count Tsarogy.

In 1776, he surfaced in Germany as Count Welldone, presenting formulas for liquors, wines and cosmetics. He professed to be a Freemason to King Frederick and claimed to have the ability to transmute base metals into gold. He settled in the house of Prince Karl of Hesse-Kassel where he had announced himself to be Francis Rakoczy II, Prince of Transylvania, and concocted herbal remedies to give to the poor.

In 1821, he was present during negotiations of the Treaty of Vienna and spoke to the ambassador in Venice soon thereafter.

In 1835, he was rumored to be in Paris.

In 1867, he was rumored to be in Milan, Italy and in Egypt during Napoleon’s campaign. Napoleon kept a dossier file on him.

In 1896, Anne Besant (writer, occultist, humanitarian) revealed that she had met him.

In 1926, C.W. Leadbetter met him in Rome, where St. Germain showed him a robe once worn by a Roman Emperor and told him that one of his residences was a castle in Transylvania.

And on and on it goes. St. Germain was believed to be an alchemist with the elixir of life. He has been credited for being the Wandering Jew, a Rosicrucian, ousted royalty, a bastard child of royalty, a mystic, a magician, a musician, a painter, an alchemist, a master of many languages, an adventurer, an aristocrat, a member of the Council of Nicea, etc., etc. Then there are those who consider him to be a charlatan.

St. Germain has been called the man who knows everything and never dies. He is currently referred to as “The God of Freedom” of Planet Earth. As the ascended Cosmic Master of the Seventh Ray, he is helping to usher the world into the Dawning of the Golden Age in December of 2012.

We live in an abundant universe where a life of freedom and happiness is a birthright. St. Germain believes the highest form of alchemy is to transform one’s own human consciousness into a higher self of unlimited Love.

Fear is a choice.

Love is a choice.

Freedom is a choice.

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Quote for the Day — “This holder of the secret knowledge of the East was not appreciated for who he was. The stupid world has always treated in this way men who, like St. Germain, have returned to it after long years of seclusion devoted to study with their hands full of the treasure of esoteric wisdom and with the hope of making the world better, wiser and happier.” Madam Blavatsky (founder of Theosophy).

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where ascended masters live in hollow trees. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

EDGAR CAYCE AND ATLANTIS

Anthropologists once believed North and South America had initially been populated by Asians crossing a land bridge connecting Asia and Alaska during the last Ice Age, some 20,000 years ago. However, recent genetic DNA analysis of Native Americans now places the initial wave of migration between 38,000 to 50,000 years ago.

Genetic DNA analysis can trace the ethnic tribal lineage, and thereby land of the origin, of a human being.

Native American tribes contain four distinct DNA groupings, designated A, B, C and D. These groupings are found in Asia but not in Europe or Africa. While 96 percent of all indigenous natives in North and South America fall within A, B, C and D, there was a mysterious four percent, dubbed Group X, which could not be explained.

Type X subjects were not found in the vast majority of tribes, including none in South America. It was also determined Type X subjects arrived in North America 10,000 to 38,000 years ago, later than the other groups.

By far, the highest concentration of Type X in Europe was found in the Basques, a race of Caucasians who live in the Pyrenees Mountains between Spain and France. And the highest frequency of Type X in the entire world was found in the Berbers, a race of Caucasians who live in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco in North Africa.

The Basques and Berbers have long puzzled anthropologists, linguists and historians because they don't seem to fit into their continental surroundings.

However, independent researchers of the Association of Research and Enlightenment (A.R.E.), followers of Edgar Cayce, have come forward and made a few observations of their own.

Known as the Sleeping Prophet, Edgar Cayce (1877-1945) is considered by many to have been America's foremost psychic. Throughout his lifetime he performed over 14,000 readings while in a self-induced trance. Although delving into many subjects, 8,976 of his readings, transcribed onto 900,000 pages of notes, were devoted to medical problems, a majority of which were resolved, often advancing current medical technology.

Cayce’s readings were always recorded by a stenographer. To do a medical reading on a subject, all he needed was the subject’s pre-arranged location at the time of the reading.

On one occasion, Cayce went into a trance and declared that the subject was not at the location where he was supposed to be at the time. It was later determined that the subject had forgotten about the meeting and was indeed not at the pre-arranged location at the prescribed time. On another occasion, Cayce was to do a reading for a ship’s captain who was at sea. When Cayce went into his trance, he realized the fellow could not speak English, so he did the entire reading in fluent German, a language he had no knowledge of when awake.

Clearly, Edgar Cayce had a unique talent, although he claimed that everyone had the capability to do the same.

In addition to medical inquiries, people would often slip in questions about the past or the future.

An extremely high percentage of Cayce’s “predictions” of the future have come true. And now the genetic DNA analysis findings of Type X may actually lend additional credence to his psychic readings as well.

Many of Edgar Cayce's readings concerned the island continent of Atlantis, the fabled empire located beyond the Pillars of Hercules (presumably the Rocks of Gibraltar in the western Mediterranean), as thoroughly detailed in Plato's TIMAEUS, that fell into the sea.

Cayce’s readings described three separate disasters that befell Atlantis.

The first catastrophe happened in 50,700 BC, caused by an explosion of gas pockets within the earth that triggered volcanoes and earthquakes, generated a magnet pole shift on the planet and produced a great Ice Age.

The second catastrophe occurred in 28.000 BC, coinciding with the Biblical account of Noah and the Great Flood. After the deluge, the continent had been broken into three main islands: Aryaz in the east (present day Azores Island group), Poseidia in the north (West Indies area), and Og in the south (near South America).

The final catastrophe took place in 10,600 BC. There were gigantic land upheavals upon the earth and the remaining land mass of Posedia and Aryaz (except for the mountain peaks) disappeared into the seas. 

The Cayce readings indicated the Atlanteans had been forced to relocate to various distant lands during the catastrophes, specifically to the Pyrenees Mountains (between Spain and France), Morocco (Atlas Mountains), Egypt (where they built the pyramids) and North America (where they formed the Iroquois nation). All Type X locations.

In North America, the highest concentration of Type X lineage was found within the Iroquois nation (Ojibway, Oneota and Nuu-Chah-Nulth tribes). Cayce also reported some Atlanteans went on to the American Southwest and Midwest. The Navajo (Southwest) and mound builder region (Midwest) also contain some Type X subjects.

The bottom line — everywhere Edgar Cayce (psychic readings) claimed the Atlanteans settled after their land disappeared has a high unaccountable occurrence of a specific DNA type (type X) found nowhere else on this planet.

This isn't exactly scientific proof of the prior existence of Atlantis, but we live in a very strange universe where everything is a sign that holds a mystery.

Edgar Cayce had the ability to link to the Universal Consciousness, also called the Akashic Records.

His readings are mysteries to be unraveled.

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Quote for the Day — “Dreams are today’s answers to tomorrow’s questions.” Edgar Cayce

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where dreams often cause binge thinking. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

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If the groundhog sees its shadow on this day, legend has it that there will be six more weeks of winter.

If the groundhog doesn’t see its shadow, it either means it will be an early spring or the groundhog was too busy gawking at the people who were gawking at it to notice.

There are many other holidays involving rodents but few people pay much attention to them.

WOODCHUCK DAY. Woodchuck is another name for a groundhog. Lumberjacks celebrate this holiday exactly seven weeks after Groundhog Day, when enough time has passed for the woodchuck to get a bit frisky after a winter of hibernation. On this day, lumberjacks from Maine to Oregon stalk woodchucks to see how much wood a woodchuck chucks, if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

SQUIRREL DAY. Celebrated on July 11, this holiday originated in Toronto, Canada, when a pop singer named Stormy Lea noticed a squirrel outside of her apartment playing with its nuts. Soon she began purchasing hazel nuts for all the squirrels in Toronto. Stormy Lea’s empathy for animals garnered worldwide attention and Squirrel Day has now been adopted by many countries, including Canada, Scotland, Hungary and Jamaica, as an official holiday whereby caring citizens spend the afternoon tossing hazel nuts at the base of trees.

GOPHER DAY: A sycophant is a servile self-serving flatterer. In other words, one who kisses butt to advance oneself. These parasites can be found in government, the military, large corporations, religious institutions, labor unions and socialistic hierarchies. Sycophants are gophers — go-for this, go-for that. They go along to get along. Their holiday is Flag Day, June 14. Every country has a flag and a desire that their citizens blindly follow the leadership of that country, right or wrong, like proper patriotic sycophants. On Gopher Day, sycophants form large circles of conformity and kiss one another where the sun doesn’t shine. Sycophants salute flags, rebels burn them.

RAT RACE DAY: The world is a gigantic economic engine and those who become caught in it, usually right after high school or college, become cogs in this suffocating organism. Those who are wise enough and brave enough, walk away from the Rat Race to find a better way of life. Thus, Rat Race Day can be any day of the year, but only occurs once (or never) per person. My Rat Race Day is August 30 (many moons ago). I don’t miss the Rat Race, but sometimes I miss the Rats.

SEWER RAT DAY. This is strictly a local holiday for residents of New York City and Newark. Depending on the temperature and humidity, Sewer Rat Day can occur anytime in the late summer, usually in early August. This is the day when the highest concentration of rats emerge from the sewer systems to taunt the citizens of their respective cities. This is also a very special day for pest control companies and alley cats.

MUSKRAT DAY. A muskrat is basically a slippery rat that lives in or near water. Consequently, Muskrat Day is celebrated by slippery people who live clandestinely along rivers or creeks and pay no taxes. This holiday is observed on April 15, when federal taxes are due. The celebration includes drinking tax-free moonshine and taking an annual bath.

SWAMP RAT DAY. A swamp rat is basically a slippery rat that lives in a swamp. Consequently, Swamp Rat Day is observed by slippery people who live clandestinely in the middle of a swamp and pay no taxes. This holiday occurs after the first sign of frog mating season. It’s celebrated by drinking tax-free moonshine and kissing a loved one or a frog, whichever croaks the loudest.

BEAVER DAY. Dam engineers across the nation celebrate this occasion, always the first day in the early winter when the beaver has completed construction of its dam for that year and goes into hibernation. Most dam engineers have been in hibernation since 1939, when construction of the last of the great dams was completed. Rumor has it that some of the more militant dam engineers have formed a secret society, called the Illuminated Damned, that is scheming to create another mighty river system in a secluded location where no one will notice until it has been completed, somewhere like North Dakota or behind the Dick Cheney Library.

MOUSE WEEK. Timid people everywhere celebrate this holiday that coincides with Mardi Gras. Although the festivities are always very restrained, it’s the only rodent holiday that lasts more than one day. Timid people have a hard time releasing their emotions but once they do it lasts for a whole week. They dine on crumbs and avoid mirrors for seven days. Then they apologize for their outburst, usually to a goldfish or a potted plant, and shrink back into their comfortable lives of quiet desperation, patiently waiting for the day when the meek shall inherit the earth.

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Quote for the Day – "To regard the lion and the water rats and our fellow men as equals is a magnificent act of a warrior’s spirit. It takes power to do that.” Carlos Castaneda

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Bret Burquest is a former award-winning columnist and the author of four novels. He lives in the Ozark Mountains with a dog named Buddy Lee and where rodents are on holiday all year. His blogs appear on several websites, including www.myspace.com/bret1111

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