User Panel
Posted: 1/17/2010 1:50:54 AM EDT
My neighbor was a Rosicrucian.
We'll call him Charlie. After moving into the big city and living next to Charlie for a couple of months, we hung out often. It didn't take me long to notice that he was always "in the zone". He always made the right moves... he always had something to say and somebody to listen to him. He was funny. Like hilarious, you-can't-stop-laughing funny. Charlie was a slightly chubby mid-20's bartender that smoked three packs of cigarettes a day. He had a steady flow of ladies into his bed, in spite of the fact that he appeared to be physically unattractive. He liberally used marijuana and mushrooms and perpetually wore aviators. I caught perhaps 3 glimpses of Charlie's unshaded eyes in the few months that I knew him. I soon realized that when Charlie spoke, his words had multiple meanings. He would go on and on about something completely ridiculous or trivial that seemed to have no purpose or meaning. But when someone else spoke, he listened. The double meanings of his words made me contemplate what was happening around me. It made me think about life. Naturally I became very curious. Around that time I started to read about presuppositions. A presupposition is "an implicit assumption about the world or background belief relating to an utterance whose truth is taken for granted in discourse." Even Bob can pass that class. Someone who doesn't speak english very well may not catch the subtleties of that statement. Someone who does knows that it means (a) Bob isn't considered to be very bright, and (b) the class isn't very difficult. Those are the presuppositions. I never mentioned to him that I thought what he was saying might have a different meaning. I thought I might be hallucinating. Then Charlie's friends came into town for the weekend from several states away. These were all very accomplished men. One was a professor at a prestigious university. We all hung out at Charlie's bar and they each took a personal interest in me that I found quite odd, but very inviting. Each of them took turns talking to me one on one. I immediately noticed the similarities these men had to Charlie. They spoke to me in blatant parables. They could read me like a book. They told me things I couldn't have gleaned from a written page. They showed me how to take control of myself. They showed me how to be in the zone. The professor wore one of those hawaiian shirts. It had roses on it. Early the next morning I went to Charlie's house. Just me and him. I looked through the box of books that had just arrived from his recently deceased father. They were all masonic. I asked if he read them. He said no, maybe one day... for now 'reality' is enough. Charlie could read my mind. He began to speak in blatant, horrendously obvious parables, communicating directly to my soul. I suddenly got scared and though I didn't show it, I felt a rush of adrenaline course though my veins. As quickly as I felt it, Charlie put his hands up and turned his head, as if to block imaginary bullets and said "Woah, woah. Stop." Charlie could feel vibes, just like his friends. And so could I. He seemed slightly offended. I felt my voice deepen like never before as I tried to speak, not knowing what to say. Charlie patiently waited. I told him I didn't know what to say. He started to speak again and as I read his mind I felt I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself. He spoke of guilt, of man's roots, of women, and of money. I walked out of Charlie's house back to my own, woke up my girlfriend and drove out of town that day. A few hours later he texted me, "Call me". I never talked to Charlie again and I moved out in the subsequent weeks. That day, and some days since, I was able to talk in parables, too. Many people in my life think I went crazy, except for my father. I learned not to speak of the things I saw everyday. They couldn't understand. I couldn't explain. I could only observe and learn. Reading the parables of Christ became my only saving grace to not die of insanity. Thus has begun a journey. A quest for God, symbolic dreams, spirits, synchronistic happenstance, metaphysical conversations... a knowledge of good and evil. It's been near six months since I walked out of Charlie's house. Was Charlie evil? Or was I for thinking he was? Someone please enlighten me. |
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Too deep for GD man.
ETA:Slightly off topic, but I went to the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum in San Jose years ago. All sorts of odd symbols and architecture on their building. |
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I won the office mini-golf tournament tonight on the first hole of a sudden death playoff.
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I won the office mini-golf tournament tonight on the first hole of a sudden death playoff. What did you win? |
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What is is and what isn't isn't and what isn't ought to be. So therefore there is no isn't only is.
Or, you never step in the same river twice. Hope that helps... |
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How about we ponder the Thought of the Day?
Philosophy Thought of the Day
(17 January 2010) Milk has a tendency to put humans in touch with Cosmic forces and enable them to heal others.––Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, page 447. |
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I won the office mini-golf tournament tonight on the first hole of a sudden death playoff. What did you win? Bragging rights and we killed about 20 minutes. |
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The professor wore one of those hawaiian shirts. It had roses on it. Early the next morning I went to Charlie's house. Just me and him. I looked through the box of books that had just arrived from his recently deceased father. They were all masonic. I asked if he read them. He said no, maybe one day... for now 'reality' is enough. Charlie could read my mind. He began to speak in blatant, horrendously obvious parables, communicating directly to my soul. I suddenly got scared and though I didn't show it, I felt a rush of adrenaline course though my veins. As quickly as I felt it, Charlie put his hands up and turned his head, as if to block imaginary bullets and began to cough and said "Woah, woah. Stop." Charlie could feel vibes, just like his friends. And so could I. He seemed slightly offended. I felt my voice deepen like never before as I tried to speak, not knowing what to say. Charlie patiently waited. I told him I didn't know what to say. He started to speak again and as I read his mind I felt I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself. He spoke of guilt, of man's roots, of women, and of money. I walked out of Charlie's house back to my own, woke up my girlfriend and drove out of town that day. A few hours later he texted me, "Call me". Cornhole bud, watch it. Seriously, thats some straight broke back mountain going on. |
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Is this from a book or are you saying this actually happened to you?
I needs to know. |
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Someone said to me once the only true Christian is a Rosicrucian.
The fact is this subject matter will get me banned and have the religious unstable right up in arms. Lock this thread. |
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What in the cornbread hell is a rosicrucian? Tagged for after church.
Jim |
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What in the cornbread hell is a rosicrucian? Tagged for after church. Jim The original Christians |
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For future reading on the subject
WARNING: These are not traditional Christian writings and many are considered heretical. They are in fact the best contextual evidence for the early church. Free Masons and Masons being the most anti-modern-christian of the groups. I quit the Catholic church after 2 years of studying some of these writings. Order of the Rosey Cross Order of the Golden Dawn Aleister Crowley Masons Illuminati Knights Templar Hiram Abiff Scottish Rite The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz Christian Mysticism |
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What in the cornbread hell is a rosicrucian? Tagged for after church. Jim The original Christians ??? according to wiki they are more associated with protestants/lutherans see below Rosicrucianism is the theology of a secret society of mystics, allegedly formed in late medieval Germany, holding a doctrine "built on esoteric truths of the ancient past", which, "concealed from the average man, provide insight into nature, the physical universe and the spiritual realm."[1] It is symbolized by the rosy cross. Between 1607 and 1616, two anonymous manifestos were published, first in Germany and later throughout Europe.[2] These were Fama Fraternitatis RC (The Fame of the Brotherhood of RC) and Confessio Fraternitatis (The Confession of the Brotherhood of RC). The influence of these documents, presenting a "most laudable Order" of mystic-philosopher-doctors and promoting a "Universal Reformation of Mankind", gave rise to an enthusiasm called by its historian Dame Frances Yates the "Rosicrucian Enlightenment".[3] Rosicrucianism was associated with Protestantism and in particular Lutheranism.[4] According to historian David Stevenson, it was also influential to Freemasonry as it was emerging in Scotland.[4] In later centuries many esoteric societies have claimed to derive their doctrines, in whole or in part, from the original Rosicrucians. Several modern societies, which date the beginning of the Order to earlier centuries, have been formed for the study of Rosicrucianism and allied subjects. |
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Does this have any thing to do with the alligator biting that dude's arm off? That was cool. Rosi-COOL-cian
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Someone please enlighten me.
No, You disembarked prematurely on the only manifestation allowed, do not attempt to waste our presence. |
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What in the cornbread hell is a rosicrucian? Tagged for after church. Jim The original Christians ??? according to wiki they are more associated with protestants/lutherans see below Rosicrucianism is the theology of a secret society of mystics, allegedly formed in late medieval Germany, holding a doctrine "built on esoteric truths of the ancient past", which, "concealed from the average man, provide insight into nature, the physical universe and the spiritual realm."[1] It is symbolized by the rosy cross. Between 1607 and 1616, two anonymous manifestos were published, first in Germany and later throughout Europe.[2] These were Fama Fraternitatis RC (The Fame of the Brotherhood of RC) and Confessio Fraternitatis (The Confession of the Brotherhood of RC). The influence of these documents, presenting a "most laudable Order" of mystic-philosopher-doctors and promoting a "Universal Reformation of Mankind", gave rise to an enthusiasm called by its historian Dame Frances Yates the "Rosicrucian Enlightenment".[3] Rosicrucianism was associated with Protestantism and in particular Lutheranism.[4] According to historian David Stevenson, it was also influential to Freemasonry as it was emerging in Scotland.[4] In later centuries many esoteric societies have claimed to derive their doctrines, in whole or in part, from the original Rosicrucians. Several modern societies, which date the beginning of the Order to earlier centuries, have been formed for the study of Rosicrucianism and allied subjects. Actually I was referring to there pre-order origins. The issue with the Rosicrucians is that they branched like Christianity. The wiki has some good info but there's alot of disinformation in that article as well. Hiram Abiff, Knights Templar and the free masons is where you want to start any reading on this subject. |
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There is a reason I'm supposed to be posting in this thread, but I'm not sure what it is yet.
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Is this from a book or are you saying this actually happened to you? I needs to know. This actually happened to me. Fiver's mentioning of Rosicrucians in another thread compelled me to post this here. |
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Someone please enlighten me.
No, You disembarked prematurely on the only manifestation allowed, do not attempt to waste our presence. What do you mean? |
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Fnd the book "The Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross" and "The Real history of the Rosicrucians" by Arthur Edward Waite .
You can get the 3/6/09 Hour of the Time Broadcast va iTunes, it addresses Rosicrusians a bit, too. |
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Re; the OPs post.....
Somebody has to say it. What a load of crap. |
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Whoa man, that is like some shit from a Blue Oyster Cult album or something...trippy
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Sounds like you got into the shrooms once or twice. BTW, do you own any guns?
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Quoted: Too deep for GD man. ETA:Slightly off topic, but I went to the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum in San Jose years ago. All sorts of odd symbols and architecture on their building. I've been in their museum there a couple of times, it is a fascinating place. |
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Quoted:
My neighbor was a Rosicrucian. We'll call him Charlie. After moving into the big city and living next to Charlie for a couple of months, we hung out often. It didn't take me long to notice that he was always "in the zone". He always made the right moves... he always had something to say and somebody to listen to him. He was funny. Like hilarious, you-can't-stop-laughing funny. Charlie was a slightly chubby mid-20's bartender that smoked three packs of cigarettes a day. He had a steady flow of ladies into his bed, in spite of the fact that he appeared to be physically unattractive. He liberally used marijuana and mushrooms and perpetually wore aviators. I caught perhaps 3 glimpses of Charlie's unshaded eyes in the few months that I knew him. I soon realized that when Charlie spoke, his words had multiple meanings. He would go on and on about something completely ridiculous or trivial that seemed to have no purpose or meaning. But when someone else spoke, he listened. The double meanings of his words made me contemplate what was happening around me. It made me think about life. Naturally I became very curious. Around that time I started to read about presuppositions. A presupposition is "an implicit assumption about the world or background belief relating to an utterance whose truth is taken for granted in discourse." Even Bob can pass that class. Someone who doesn't speak english very well may not catch the subtleties of that statement. Someone who does knows that it means (a) Bob isn't considered to be very bright, and (b) the class isn't very difficult. Those are the presuppositions. I never mentioned to him that I thought what he was saying might have a different meaning. I thought I might be hallucinating. Then Charlie's friends came into town for the weekend from several states away. These were all very accomplished men. One was a professor at a prestigious university. We all hung out at Charlie's bar and they each took a personal interest in me that I found quite odd, but very inviting. Each of them took turns talking to me one on one. I immediately noticed the similarities these men had to Charlie. They spoke to me in blatant parables. They could read me like a book. They told me things I couldn't have gleaned from a written page. They showed me how to take control of myself. They showed me how to be in the zone. The professor wore one of those hawaiian shirts. It had roses on it. Early the next morning I went to Charlie's house. Just me and him. I looked through the box of books that had just arrived from his recently deceased father. They were all masonic. I asked if he read them. He said no, maybe one day... for now 'reality' is enough. Charlie could read my mind. He began to speak in blatant, horrendously obvious parables, communicating directly to my soul. I suddenly got scared and though I didn't show it, I felt a rush of adrenaline course though my veins. As quickly as I felt it, Charlie put his hands up and turned his head, as if to block imaginary bullets and said "Woah, woah. Stop." Charlie could feel vibes, just like his friends. And so could I. He seemed slightly offended. I felt my voice deepen like never before as I tried to speak, not knowing what to say. Charlie patiently waited. I told him I didn't know what to say. He started to speak again and as I read his mind I felt I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself. He spoke of guilt, of man's roots, of women, and of money. I walked out of Charlie's house back to my own, woke up my girlfriend and drove out of town that day. A few hours later he texted me, "Call me". I never talked to Charlie again and I moved out in the subsequent weeks. That day, and some days since, I was able to talk in parables, too. Many people in my life think I went crazy, except for my father. I learned not to speak of the things I saw everyday. They couldn't understand. I couldn't explain. I could only observe and learn. Reading the parables of Christ became my only saving grace to not die of insanity. Thus has begun a journey. A quest for God, symbolic dreams, spirits, synchronistic happenstance, metaphysical conversations... a knowledge of good and evil. It's been near six months since I walked out of Charlie's house. Was Charlie evil? Or was I for thinking he was? Someone please enlighten me. You know what you need to do. If you do it. It will happen |
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You know what you need to do. If you do it. It will happen Careful with that axe eugene. |
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Don't you fuckers turn this into a war. I'm suddenly very fascinated and I can't figure out why. Keep this shit open.
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He woke you up. Like 911 did in a different way for many people. Sad that so many went back to sleep.
Go to a medium or large public library and start reading in the 130s. Use Google. Go find Charlie. |
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Back away from the crack pipe.
I recommend that you either get better drugs or stop using them altogether. |
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You know what you need to do. If you do it. It will happen I don't. I don't know who or what to trust, except our creator. I strive to submit to the will of God. I feel lost or 'asleep' most of the time, with no one to rely on. I feel naked, powerless, and on my own. I feel like my training wheels have been removed and now it's do or die. |
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You know what you need to do. If you do it. It will happen Careful with that axe eugene. Would you mind explaining the meaning of this? |
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Any black mirrors in "Charlies" house? I don't know. What is a black mirror? |
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What is is and what isn't isn't and what isn't ought to be. So therefore there is no isn't only is. I've heard many variations of this lately. It's difficult to grasp. Or, you never step in the same river twice. Hope that helps... Yes. |
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My neighbor was a Rosicrucian. We'll call him Charlie. After moving into the big city and living next to Charlie for a couple of months, we hung out often. It didn't take me long to notice that he was always "in the zone". He always made the right moves... he always had something to say and somebody to listen to him. He was funny. Like hilarious, you-can't-stop-laughing funny. Charlie was a slightly chubby mid-20's bartender that smoked three packs of cigarettes a day. He had a steady flow of ladies into his bed, in spite of the fact that he appeared to be physically unattractive. He liberally used marijuana and mushrooms and perpetually wore aviators. I caught perhaps 3 glimpses of Charlie's unshaded eyes in the few months that I knew him. I soon realized that when Charlie spoke, his words had multiple meanings. He would go on and on about something completely ridiculous or trivial that seemed to have no purpose or meaning. But when someone else spoke, he listened. The double meanings of his words made me contemplate what was happening around me. It made me think about life. Naturally I became very curious. Around that time I started to read about presuppositions. A presupposition is "an implicit assumption about the world or background belief relating to an utterance whose truth is taken for granted in discourse." Even Bob can pass that class. Someone who doesn't speak english very well may not catch the subtleties of that statement. Someone who does knows that it means (a) Bob isn't considered to be very bright, and (b) the class isn't very difficult. Those are the presuppositions. I never mentioned to him that I thought what he was saying might have a different meaning. I thought I might be hallucinating. Then Charlie's friends came into town for the weekend from several states away. These were all very accomplished men. One was a professor at a prestigious university. We all hung out at Charlie's bar and they each took a personal interest in me that I found quite odd, but very inviting. Each of them took turns talking to me one on one. I immediately noticed the similarities these men had to Charlie. They spoke to me in blatant parables. They could read me like a book. They told me things I couldn't have gleaned from a written page. They showed me how to take control of myself. They showed me how to be in the zone. The professor wore one of those hawaiian shirts. It had roses on it. Early the next morning I went to Charlie's house. Just me and him. I looked through the box of books that had just arrived from his recently deceased father. They were all masonic. I asked if he read them. He said no, maybe one day... for now 'reality' is enough. Charlie could read my mind. He began to speak in blatant, horrendously obvious parables, communicating directly to my soul. I suddenly got scared and though I didn't show it, I felt a rush of adrenaline course though my veins. As quickly as I felt it, Charlie put his hands up and turned his head, as if to block imaginary bullets and said "Woah, woah. Stop." Charlie could feel vibes, just like his friends. And so could I. He seemed slightly offended. I felt my voice deepen like never before as I tried to speak, not knowing what to say. Charlie patiently waited. I told him I didn't know what to say. He started to speak again and as I read his mind I felt I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself. He spoke of guilt, of man's roots, of women, and of money. I walked out of Charlie's house back to my own, woke up my girlfriend and drove out of town that day. A few hours later he texted me, "Call me". I never talked to Charlie again and I moved out in the subsequent weeks. That day, and some days since, I was able to talk in parables, too. Many people in my life think I went crazy, except for my father. I learned not to speak of the things I saw everyday. They couldn't understand. I couldn't explain. I could only observe and learn. Reading the parables of Christ became my only saving grace to not die of insanity. Thus has begun a journey. A quest for God, symbolic dreams, spirits, synchronistic happenstance, metaphysical conversations... a knowledge of good and evil. It's been near six months since I walked out of Charlie's house. Was Charlie evil? Or was I for thinking he was? Someone please enlighten me. First time gettin high huh??? Next time stick to beer |
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