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    Channelling Bashar...

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    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Sat Jun 02, 2012 12:08 pm

    What's your take on this video?

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    lindabaker

    Posts : 1381
    Join date : 2010-04-15
    Location : straight ahead

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  lindabaker on Sat Jun 02, 2012 9:10 pm

    I have seen other Bashar videos. This is the first time I have seen a Bashar video with other people so visible in the room. I love how young people react without restraint. I could sense how the information lifted them up. I thoroughly enjoyed working professionally with open, artistic young people in my past career, and I really enjoyed seeing this video because it reminded me of that energy, that feeling of unrestrained creativity.

    I have already learned and understood a lot of the information Bashar presented. It seemed new to some of the people, and for others, it seemed to be a confirmation or a remembering.

    I never did catch the name of the "place" that Bashar is from...do you know, Burgundia, who he is, and what place is he from?

    Thank you so much for sharing this video, love to you. Linda
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    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Sun Jun 03, 2012 2:00 am

    To me He talks like a politician. he will tell you what you want to hear.
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    Aquaries1111

    Posts : 1392
    Join date : 2012-06-02
    Age : 48
    Location : In the Suns

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  Aquaries1111 on Sun Jun 03, 2012 12:17 pm

    I found this video I could somewhat relate to:

    Bashar *Pop-Ins, Dreamstates & Densities*

    Only a few minutes in length.

    youtube .com/
    watch?v=2T1mu64le6U&feature=related

    Let me then speak
    with these voices that issue through me
    mine, yet not the me I know
    who struggles in the marketplace for bread
    or turns despondent at a dreary day
    Instead these voices, daemons with their own ancient
    yet new powers leave their mark on me
    as surely as ink on the pages of a book
    I'm holy, but only as the leaves are
    and miraculous but only as the wind is
    that rushes through the open window of my mind
    filling it with times and places that spring alive
    and open up the geography of my brain
    adding continents, rivers, soft arching valleys
    not there before
    completing my inner skies, in which
    new stars and planets appear
    to astound the shephards of my thoughts
    who aclaim new births unendingly
    and stare upward, hands lost in the wooly fabric of the Earth
    eyes in awe
    mirroring the ever-changing Universe
    Into my mind comes voices that speak
    with the eloquence of ancient oaks given speech
    and so their gracious wisdom and wondering rise
    with a wild yet restful Resonance
    that rides far above my daily-tuned ears
    And others speak with smaller yet even fuller songs
    sung before the sounding of the first word
    as if the atoms and molecules each yearn for speech
    and through me express the deep
    belonging that casts them into form and changes them
    with such swift tenderness that they fall
    through one image into another, loving each
    yet staying only long enough in one
    to animate its magic motion
    with biological songs that sing each thing to be its own
    yet a member of its kind
    So now I let these voices speak
    and listen to what is said
    through the whirling patterns
    of my dizzy creaturehood
    "Muses? Earthgods? Spirits?"
    The weary intellect like a traveler alone at night
    trembles and shouts out. "Who's that"?
    and fearfully turns his head, suspecting the worst
    from such unconventional company
    "Where are your credentials"?
    From what honest school of knowledge do you come?
    Why bother me with your silly tales
    when I must be on my way
    about the sober details that concern my life?"
    So asks the intellect, frowning, pausing unknowingly
    on the threshold of himself from which
    though he's forgotten
    the muses first came.
    Now like aliens they seem to confound him,
    adding their own whispering
    to the constant chatter that he carries like a bag
    of rattling groceries in his head.
    One voice says: "The fruits of your thoughts are rotting,
    They are too old, their sticky juice
    is good only for catching flies.
    The bread of your endeavor is soggy
    and heavy in the basket of your mind".
    Another voice says:
    "Why are you so hesitant and lonely
    and so frightened for your dignity
    that you refuse our company?
    Surely you remember us, the voices
    in the nursery that spoke
    through sunlight, shadows, furniture;
    the names you knew before the speaking of the words
    diagrammed your listening
    and you became so particular
    about what you allowed yourself to hear?"
    I am a vortex
    spinning myself in the magic web of my being,
    weaving the seasons thread by thread,
    night by day.
    The weeks glimmer
    in the translucent nests of the months' intersections
    through which I move
    and extend myself.
    My vocation has come upon me suddenly
    when my adulthood met the ancient child,
    and in an instant my hour spoke its own alphabet
    I remember
    and formed a magic word
    that echoed
    through the yellow daisy fields of my cells' knowledge,
    called together all the lost
    parts of me who'd fallen off in jigsaw images,
    or crumbled like the edges
    of rich continents, breaking apart
    in small jagged islands of forsaken thought.
    The word called the East and the West
    and North and South together
    and like a magnet drew
    the furthest reaches to one tune,
    the discordant wound iinto symmetry.
    My breath is an airy river
    carrying me inward and outward
    into worlds so rich that I wonder
    at the shallow eddies in which I walked;
    The river - the rhythm of my naturehood
    in which I feel my place and hear my tone clear,
    yet merged with all thing else.
    Invisibly beyond the edge of touch I feel
    realignments triumphantly assembling,
    celebrations as long forgotten prodigals come home.
    My eyes chant a new language,
    my hands join like stars forming a new galaxy,
    an alliance in which their wisdom
    speaks joyfully their double five worlds.
    he shadows of my fingertips
    fall out on inner landscapes,
    conjure magic from the forests
    and form paths across the centuries
    upon which my brothers walk.
    My body knows its holy flesh focus
    in this place and time,
    and feels its own song sing itself
    through the substantiation of this form.
    And
    other speakers, tongueless,
    speak out through my fingertips,
    dream in hidden caverns of my blood,
    doze within my creaturehood,
    who once walked the Earth as we do now
    and spoke, and will again.
    Even as I give them tongue
    so they will in their turn speak for me.
    A little village once in Spain
    may for a moment nest within my hand,
    forming now a tiny cell
    of friendly atoms and molecules
    instead of houses, barns and fields,
    enclosed by mountains of smooth bone
    beneath the brilliant moon of brain,
    and each small structure hold intact
    the memory of King, Knave, Housewife, Fool or Thief,
    each alive in its own place,
    standing in the doorway of its soul,
    so dear -
    and tongueless for a time.
    Each shape my body knows
    inside or out this magic flesh,
    carries memory of hearth and fields and wood,
    and once again in different form
    will speak for me who give them voice
    I am consumed
    yet born again from a different womb,
    remade
    from an earlier self who even now
    fades into memory and becomes
    an atom in someone's hand,
    a leaf fallen into fresh ground
    to be itself born again,
    or a dust mote floating past my cheek,
    now unrecognizable
    and gone from me.
    Who speaks?
    Yet speaking for the tongueless,
    I find my voice
    and no longer stutter
    through bleak silences,
    for these voices
    which are not mine
    fly on my wings and I on theirs,
    until here is only
    flight.
    Do they live?
    Their massive lives and straddle ours,
    and through the pupils of their eyes
    we look out upon a Universe.
    All that we know or see
    is but a detail in a scheme so overpowering
    that now, typing, I grow weak
    and cry
    that when I sense
    what
    Eye
    sense
    falls through my words which cannot hold
    such inner evidence,
    for I am left with gaps so huge
    that what is unsaid is all -
    and there -
    what I cannot hold -
    is what I am and what you are.
    My thoughts are as incapable as my cupped hands
    to grasp these meanings,
    and our lives
    are like the shadows of my fingertips.
    So are we sent out by other ones,
    massive relatives, in a family so vast
    yet in which each member
    basks.
    So I spake words
    that are not mine or yours
    but theirs,
    and so give nature speech
    in what humble way I can.
    True or false?
    These voices live in realms
    Where true and false are meaningless,
    and rise up with a fire
    that never finds final form,
    but speaks the spirit
    with a flame
    that forms all worlds,
    and is behind
    the truths we know.
    and so I hint
    of truths beyond life or death
    in which the birthbed and the grave
    dissolve
    in a magik caluculus in which
    each has its place

    avatar
    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Sun Jun 03, 2012 1:36 pm

    There is a video below....to me it is just a clever chatter...

    http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/23032188

    I am starting to think that he is a clever con artist, very skillful with words.
    avatar
    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Mon Jun 04, 2012 6:41 am

    More of that cunning bullshitter...and so many dupped.


    The basic principle is to make everybody feel good. Only then people will want to listen to you and pay for that.


    Last edited by burgundia on Mon Jun 04, 2012 6:45 am; edited 1 time in total
    avatar
    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Mon Jun 04, 2012 6:44 am

    More prevarication from Bashar.
    On Jesus, Mohamed and the like - just listen to what he says...look how many words to express one well-known idea that all those individuals were enlightened people who wanted to be examples for others. Then he answers the purpose of pyramids - to help us remember. LOL. Could well be true , are you able to verify it? No, no one is...a very convenient reply. He often asks, at the beginning, if the person who asked the question understsnds. When they say YES, he continues along the same path. When you listen to more of his videos you will see that there is nothing really revealing in his answers, in fact quite frequently it is a cascade of empty words though they sound so "outwordly". So many have been duped.




    avatar
    Sanicle

    Posts : 1843
    Join date : 2011-02-28
    Location : Melbourne, Australia

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  Sanicle on Mon Jun 04, 2012 7:23 am

    Aquaries1111 wrote:I found this video I could somewhat relate to:

    Bashar *Pop-Ins, Dreamstates & Densities*

    Only a few minutes in length.

    youtube .com/
    watch?v=2T1mu64le6U&feature=related

    Let me then speak
    with these voices that issue through me
    mine, yet not the me I know
    who struggles in the marketplace for bread
    or turns despondent at a dreary day
    Instead these voices, daemons with their own ancient
    yet new powers leave their mark on me
    as surely as ink on the pages of a book
    I'm holy, but only as the leaves are
    and miraculous but only as the wind is
    that rushes through the open window of my mind
    filling it with times and places that spring alive
    and open up the geography of my brain
    adding continents, rivers, soft arching valleys
    not there before
    completing my inner skies, in which
    new stars and planets appear
    to astound the shephards of my thoughts
    who aclaim new births unendingly
    and stare upward, hands lost in the wooly fabric of the Earth
    eyes in awe
    mirroring the ever-changing Universe
    Into my mind comes voices that speak
    with the eloquence of ancient oaks given speech
    and so their gracious wisdom and wondering rise
    with a wild yet restful Resonance
    that rides far above my daily-tuned ears
    And others speak with smaller yet even fuller songs
    sung before the sounding of the first word
    as if the atoms and molecules each yearn for speech
    and through me express the deep
    belonging that casts them into form and changes them
    with such swift tenderness that they fall
    through one image into another, loving each
    yet staying only long enough in one
    to animate its magic motion
    with biological songs that sing each thing to be its own
    yet a member of its kind
    So now I let these voices speak
    and listen to what is said
    through the whirling patterns
    of my dizzy creaturehood
    "Muses? Earthgods? Spirits?"
    The weary intellect like a traveler alone at night
    trembles and shouts out. "Who's that"?
    and fearfully turns his head, suspecting the worst
    from such unconventional company
    "Where are your credentials"?
    From what honest school of knowledge do you come?
    Why bother me with your silly tales
    when I must be on my way
    about the sober details that concern my life?"
    So asks the intellect, frowning, pausing unknowingly
    on the threshold of himself from which
    though he's forgotten
    the muses first came.
    Now like aliens they seem to confound him,
    adding their own whispering
    to the constant chatter that he carries like a bag
    of rattling groceries in his head.
    One voice says: "The fruits of your thoughts are rotting,
    They are too old, their sticky juice
    is good only for catching flies.
    The bread of your endeavor is soggy
    and heavy in the basket of your mind".
    Another voice says:
    "Why are you so hesitant and lonely
    and so frightened for your dignity
    that you refuse our company?
    Surely you remember us, the voices
    in the nursery that spoke
    through sunlight, shadows, furniture;
    the names you knew before the speaking of the words
    diagrammed your listening
    and you became so particular
    about what you allowed yourself to hear?"
    I am a vortex
    spinning myself in the magic web of my being,
    weaving the seasons thread by thread,
    night by day.
    The weeks glimmer
    in the translucent nests of the months' intersections
    through which I move
    and extend myself.
    My vocation has come upon me suddenly
    when my adulthood met the ancient child,
    and in an instant my hour spoke its own alphabet
    I remember
    and formed a magic word
    that echoed
    through the yellow daisy fields of my cells' knowledge,
    called together all the lost
    parts of me who'd fallen off in jigsaw images,
    or crumbled like the edges
    of rich continents, breaking apart
    in small jagged islands of forsaken thought.
    The word called the East and the West
    and North and South together
    and like a magnet drew
    the furthest reaches to one tune,
    the discordant wound iinto symmetry.
    My breath is an airy river
    carrying me inward and outward
    into worlds so rich that I wonder
    at the shallow eddies in which I walked;
    The river - the rhythm of my naturehood
    in which I feel my place and hear my tone clear,
    yet merged with all thing else.
    Invisibly beyond the edge of touch I feel
    realignments triumphantly assembling,
    celebrations as long forgotten prodigals come home.
    My eyes chant a new language,
    my hands join like stars forming a new galaxy,
    an alliance in which their wisdom
    speaks joyfully their double five worlds.
    he shadows of my fingertips
    fall out on inner landscapes,
    conjure magic from the forests
    and form paths across the centuries
    upon which my brothers walk.
    My body knows its holy flesh focus
    in this place and time,
    and feels its own song sing itself
    through the substantiation of this form.
    And
    other speakers, tongueless,
    speak out through my fingertips,
    dream in hidden caverns of my blood,
    doze within my creaturehood,
    who once walked the Earth as we do now
    and spoke, and will again.
    Even as I give them tongue
    so they will in their turn speak for me.
    A little village once in Spain
    may for a moment nest within my hand,
    forming now a tiny cell
    of friendly atoms and molecules
    instead of houses, barns and fields,
    enclosed by mountains of smooth bone
    beneath the brilliant moon of brain,
    and each small structure hold intact
    the memory of King, Knave, Housewife, Fool or Thief,
    each alive in its own place,
    standing in the doorway of its soul,
    so dear -
    and tongueless for a time.
    Each shape my body knows
    inside or out this magic flesh,
    carries memory of hearth and fields and wood,
    and once again in different form
    will speak for me who give them voice
    I am consumed
    yet born again from a different womb,
    remade
    from an earlier self who even now
    fades into memory and becomes
    an atom in someone's hand,
    a leaf fallen into fresh ground
    to be itself born again,
    or a dust mote floating past my cheek,
    now unrecognizable
    and gone from me.
    Who speaks?
    Yet speaking for the tongueless,
    I find my voice
    and no longer stutter
    through bleak silences,
    for these voices
    which are not mine
    fly on my wings and I on theirs,
    until here is only
    flight.
    Do they live?
    Their massive lives and straddle ours,
    and through the pupils of their eyes
    we look out upon a Universe.
    All that we know or see
    is but a detail in a scheme so overpowering
    that now, typing, I grow weak
    and cry
    that when I sense
    what
    Eye
    sense
    falls through my words which cannot hold
    such inner evidence,
    for I am left with gaps so huge
    that what is unsaid is all -
    and there -
    what I cannot hold -
    is what I am and what you are.
    My thoughts are as incapable as my cupped hands
    to grasp these meanings,
    and our lives
    are like the shadows of my fingertips.
    So are we sent out by other ones,
    massive relatives, in a family so vast
    yet in which each member
    basks.
    So I spake words
    that are not mine or yours
    but theirs,
    and so give nature speech
    in what humble way I can.
    True or false?
    These voices live in realms
    Where true and false are meaningless,
    and rise up with a fire
    that never finds final form,
    but speaks the spirit
    with a flame
    that forms all worlds,
    and is behind
    the truths we know.
    and so I hint
    of truths beyond life or death
    in which the birthbed and the grave
    dissolve
    in a magik caluculus in which
    each has its place


    What a beautiful way of looking at life on our planet. I love that. Thank you for posting it Aquaries1111. Flowers
    avatar
    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Mon Jun 04, 2012 8:43 am

    Bashar's responses fall into 3 major categories:

    1. common truths/knowledge - thus this resonates with everybody.

    2. things that we have read or heard somewhere because someone else wrote or talked about them - thus when Bashar talks about them they also sound plausible/true and quite often are confirmed by others, namely those who wrote about them. Daryll Anka read those books or listened to those interviews too, be sure about it.
    ( Like the information that the chambers beneath the Sphinx's paws will be excavated. It was Edgar Cayce that mentioned that first in one of his readings)


    3. Something that can't be verified right now or in the nearest future or ever.
    avatar
    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Mon Jun 04, 2012 9:55 am

    By the end of this amazing week-long journey you will find a "new" more integrated YOU, ready to embark on your new life with energy and enthusiasm and prepared to handle the accelerated energies coming in 2012! This workshop is a rare opportunity to help you design and live the life of your dreams with the help of Bashar and our cetacean friends.

    Also, during our week together you will have an opportunity to explore with April Rochelle, MA, MBA many of the important concepts shared by Bashar such as "How to build a life where your highest excitement is the organizing principle," Enhancing communication with dolphins and whales through telempathy," "Transforming obstacles into opportunities so you can live the the life of your dreams."

    Our week will culminate with a gourmet dinner celebration at a beautiful ocean view location followed by a powerful integrative Bashar Guided Meditation with the Holotope*, a profound multi-media experience of light, color and sound.


    Our Itinerary for the week includes:

    When: October 14-20, 2012
    Sunday Evening, October 14: Welcome and Introduction
    Monday, Tuesday: Our day will begin with a morning guided meditation with Bashar, followed by a 4 hour wild dolphin boat swim, afternoon/evening sharing and exploring with April; finishing our day with a guided meditation with Bashar.
    Wednesday: Late morning Guided Meditation with Bashar, afternoon 3-hour snorkeling excursion, evening sharing and exploring with April culminating in a guided meditation with Bashar.
    Thursday, Friday: Our day will begin with a morning guided meditation with Bashar, followed by a 4 hour wild dolphin boat swim, afternoon/evening sharing and exploring with April.
    Friday Evening: Evening gourmet dinner and final Holotope Guided Meditation with Bashar to integrate all that we have experienced!
    Saturday, October 20: departure
    Where: Royal Kona Resort, Kailua-Kona, Hawaii
    Seminar Cost: $1,995 (double occupancy)
    Non-Refundable Deposit: $400 per person
    (balance due by Sept 15, 2012)
    Includes: 7 days/6 nights accommodations in the beautiful oceanfront Royal Kona Resort located within walking distance to shops and restaurants (double occupancy ... if you prefer a single room, the single supplement is $450) and one delicious home-cooked gourmet dinner. Four dolphin boat swims (4 hours) with snorkeling gear and snacks provided plus one 3-hour afternoon snorkeling excursion.
    Also included: All transportation to boats and all retreat meetings.
    What is not Included: Airfare to and from Kona, Hawaii (KOA Kona International Airport), transportation to and from the airport and meals except for one gourmet dinner the last night of our adventure together.
    Cancellations: The $400 deposit is non-refundable. If you cancel and we are able to fill your space, then we will refund your full deposit less $100 processing fee
    Disclaimer: Since we are swimming with wild dolphins, we cannot guarantee that we will always find the dolphins, however we are very fortunate in Hawaii and usually we encounter the dolphins 95% of the time.
    http://www.dolphindreamsofhawaii.com/dolphindreams/oct-2012.html
    avatar
    lindabaker

    Posts : 1381
    Join date : 2010-04-15
    Location : straight ahead

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  lindabaker on Mon Jun 04, 2012 7:01 pm

    Ha! Enlightenment for the wealthy!

    What percent of the people have that much money for a vacation?
    avatar
    mudra

    Posts : 18510
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Age : 63
    Location : belgium

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  mudra on Tue Jun 05, 2012 10:26 am

    I am not keen on channelling . It makes the public dependable and loose sight of their own inner resources.
    Here and there there are inspiring things these people say that can touch soul or heart and
    that's ok . In the field of Spirit my opinion the focus should go on finding true self rather than look for answers without.

    Love always
    mudra



    Last edited by mudra on Tue Jun 05, 2012 1:24 pm; edited 1 time in total
    avatar
    burgundia

    Posts : 5218
    Join date : 2010-04-09
    Location : Poland

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  burgundia on Tue Jun 05, 2012 10:48 am

    mudra wrote:I am not keen on channelling . It makes the public dependable and loose sight of their own inner resources.
    Here and there there are inspiring things these people say that can touch soul or heart and
    that's ok . In the field of Spirit my opinion is the focus should go on finding true self rather than look for answers without.

    Love always
    mudra


    I agree.
    avatar
    devakas

    Posts : 2039
    Join date : 2010-04-10

    Re: Channelling Bashar...

    Post  devakas on Tue Jun 05, 2012 12:38 pm

    burgundia wrote:To me He talks like a politician. he will tell you what you want to hear.

    lol

    agree with you

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