THE EZEKIEL CODE - A Metaphysical/Mystery/Adventure/Thriller

Frank McClintock paced the floor and watched the clock as he waited for Professor Alan Kline to arrive. He’s late, McClintock
thought to himself. He’s never late for anything. Maybe I better call
him. As he reached for the phone the doorbell rang. He moved quickly
across the room and opened the door. “Alan! Glad you could make it.
Come on in.”

“For crying out loud,” the professor complained, trying to shake
off the chill. “You know I hate driving in the snow. Why couldn’t you
just tell me about whatever it is over the phone? And when the hell did
you get back? I thought you were planning to stay in France for
another week.”

McClintock took Kline’s coat and laid it over the back of the
couch. “I got back yesterday. I could have told you on the phone but
there’s something I wanted you to see. Sit down here by the fire and
make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some coffee.”

“Great,” Kline said. “I’ll take a drop of whiskey in mine if you’ve
got it.”

McClintock laughed. “Of course. How could I forget?”

“What’d you want me to see?” Kline asked, seating himself in one
of the pair of antique wingback chairs in front of the fireplace.

“It’s on the coffee table there in front of you.” McClintock
answered from the kitchen.

The professor looked down. A document folder was lying on the
small coffee table in front of him. He put on his reading glasses,
opened the folder and took out the fragile sheet of parchment. It was
yellowed with age and the writing was faded but legible. He was
studying it when McClintock returned from the kitchen with two cups
of hot coffee, each spiked with a touch of whiskey.

McClintock settled into the other wingback chair facing the
professor. He sipped his coffee quietly, letting the professor absorb the
content of the parchment.

After a few moments Kline removed his glasses and leaned back.
He looked at McClintock. “Is this what I think it is?” he asked,
completely astonished.

“Yup,” McClintock replied with a slight grin.

“So the story is true?”

McClintock nodded. “I believe it is.”

“Where the hell did you get this? I know you told me you thought
it existed but I was beginning to think the whole strange story was a
crock.”

“Well,” McClintock started, “you remember the reason I went to
France was to meet with that other researcher that I’d been
corresponding with by email?”

“Yes. Jacques somebody.”

“Yes! Jacques de Pereille. He claimed to be related to Raimon de
Pereille but hardly anyone believed him.”

“I’m sorry,” Kline said, shaking his head. “You’ll have to refresh
my memory.”

McClintock set his coffee down and leaned forward in the chair.
“Raimon de Pereille,” he explained, “was the lord of Montségur!”

“Montségur?” Kline asked, not yet remembering this part of the
long, complex story.

For the past several months McClintock had been pursuing what
he suspected to be the facts behind an old myth. It was a story so
unlikely that Professor Kline doubted any of it could be true.
Whenever McClintock would discover some tidbit of information
about the story he would call Kline and tell him what he’d learned. But
now Kline’s skepticism was being seriously challenged by the
evidence he was holding in his own hands.

“Montségur was a huge castle,” McClintock explained. “The last
refuge for the Cathars back in the Middle Ages during the so-called
Holy Inquisition. They were being hunted down and slaughtered like
animals.”

“Oh, right. Yes,” Kline said. “I remember now.”

McClintock sat back in his chair. “Anyway, like I said, this guy,
Jacques, claimed to be related to the Lord of Montségur.”

“And you believe he is?”

McClintock shrugged. “Well, I can’t say for certain but I’m damn
sure about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s the one who gave me what you’re holding in your hands
right now.”

Kline looked surprised. “He gave you this? He just handed it over
to you? Why? Why would he do that?”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that. Not exactly, anyway.”

Kline looked concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, here’s what happened. I had a conversation with Jacques at
a little cafe the previous day. He confided in me that he had what he
believed to be the real thing in his possession. He said he’d show it to
me if I wanted to come to his home the next day. Well, I wasn’t sure if
I believed him or not but I wasn’t going to pass it up, just in case. And
then he told me he thought some kind of an agent from the Vatican
had been following him around for the past week or so. Well, that
struck me as a bit of a stretch and I just sort of brushed it off. I figured
maybe Jacques was just getting paranoid. You know, having a little
flight of fancy that was maybe getting out of hand.”

“The Vatican!” Kline scoffed. “Does seem a bit extreme.”

“Exactly my reaction. It was just a little too extreme. Like I said, I
just brushed it off at the time. But when I got to his home the next day
I found the door wide open and the place had obviously been
ransacked. Furniture turned over, drawers pulled out, stuff all over the
place. A real mess. I called out for Jacques but there was no answer.”

“My god. So what’d you do?”

“The first thing that went through my mind was what he’d told me
about someone following him around. I figured if that was true - I
mean if that’s what this was all about - then they were probably
looking for that parchment. Fortunately Jacques told me where he’d
hidden it.”

“I’m amazed he would tell anyone something like that,” Kline
said. “Why would he do that?”

McClintock nodded. “Yes, well, I think the reason he told me was
because he trusted me and figured if anything should happen to him at
least maybe I could get to it before anyone else did. He’d simply
hidden it inside the backing of a cheap painting that hung on the wall
in his bedroom. So I rushed into the bedroom and sure enough the
painting was hanging there, apparently untouched. I grabbed it from
the wall and tore off the backing and there was the parchment just like
he said. I shoved it under my coat and turned to get the hell out of
there. That’s when I saw Jacques on the floor. He was on the other
side of the bed, laying in a pool of blood with a bullet hole in his
head.”

Kline sat straight up. “Dead?”

“As a doornail.”

“Jesus! Could it have been a suicide?”

McClintock shook his head. “I doubt it. There was no gun
anywhere to be seen.”

“He was murdered?”

“That’s the way it looked to me.”

“Good Lord,” Kline mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“Did you go to the police?”

McClintock shook his head. “No, man. I was scared. I just got the
hell out of there.”

Kline looked seriously concerned now. “If this is all true, you
could be in real danger.”

McClintock nodded. “I know.”

“Who else knows you have this?” Kline asked, laying the old
parchment back on the table.

“Nobody. Just you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Good,” Kline replied, somewhat relieved. “If I were you I’d get
rid of the damn thing and just forget about it.”

McClintock swirled the coffee around in his cup a few times and
looked up at his friend. “I can’t,” he said. “I’ve come so far. I’m this
close. I can’t let it go now. You know what I mean?”

Kline shook his head. “I figured as much,” he said, getting up and
walking over to the couch to get his coat. “Look, I gotta go. Got an
early morning class and I promised the students an energetic lecture
they’d be crazy to miss. But please, call me later tomorrow, will you?
We need to talk about this. Seriously.”

“All right,” McClintock agreed, seeing his friend to the door.

A light snow was still falling as Kline made his way across the
yard toward the street. Suddenly a black van pulled out from the curb
in front of the house. The driver seemed to be in a hurry as the van
fishtailed down the icy street.

Kline turned to look back toward the house. McClintock was still
standing in the open doorway. Kline hollered, “Who was that?”
McClintock shrugged it off. “I don’t know. Vatican spooks?” he
joked.

Kline didn’t laugh. “You call me tomorrow!”

“Don’t worry!” McClintock assured him with a wave as he closed
the door against the cold night.

But the professor was indeed worried. He shivered. A bullet hole
in the head – even if it’s someone else’s head - should make a person
worry. The next day he waited for McClintock’s call but it never
came. Ever.

Ok, now I need to know what comes next. More, more, more!

Sue Sunshine wrote:

Ok, now I need to know what comes next. More, more, more!

LOL! Well, okay. Below is Chapter 9.

And if you really want more you can read an excerpt from a chapter deeper into the book at http://www.outskirtspress.com/theezekielcode/
__________________________________________________________


THE EZEKIEL CODE


Chapter 9

Densmore's home was easy enough to find.
The Old Barklay Road was nearly a straight line running for several miles
through the farm country, pretty much as Banyon had imagined.

They passed three farms along the way, checking the addresses on the
mailboxes along the side of the road. The fourth mailbox was a rusty red
color with THE DENSMORE'S stenciled in white letters above the address.
A long dirt driveway led to the old, white, two-story house about five
hundred feet back from the road. Between the road and the house was a field
of tall, dry grass. A dilapidated antique tractor sat rusting in the middle
of the field entangled in a mass of overgrown blackberry bushes.
Banyon and Angela were still parked in the middle of the road, taking
in the scene, when Banyon glanced in his rearview mirror and noticed a
dark green pickup truck approaching. He put the car in gear and moved over
to the side of the road so the pickup could pass. He was surprised when,
instead of passing, it slowed down and turned onto the Densmore property
and headed down the long driveway toward the house.

"Must be Mrs. Densmore," Banyon said. "It looked like
a woman behind the wheel."

The pickup came to a stop beside the house. The door on the driver's
side opened and the woman stepped out. With two bags of groceries under
her arms, she walked up to the house but paused a moment and turned, glancing
across the field toward Banyon and Angela.

"Is she looking at us?" Angela asked, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I think so. She probably wonders who the heck is sitting
up here at the edge of her property."

The woman turned back and walked up the stairs to the large front porch.
Juggling the two bags and her purse, she fumbled for her keys and unlocked
the door. Just before entering, she turned once more and glanced toward
the road. Then she went inside and closed the door. In a moment, they saw
the curtain in one of the windows draw back just slightly and the woman
peered out in their direction.

"Let's go talk to her," Angela suggested. "She's probably
worried about who we are, sitting up here."

Banyon thought about it for a minute. "Okay, maybe you're right.
I wouldn't want her to think someone's stalking her or casing the house
or something."

Banyon drove slowly down the driveway and parked behind the pickup.
They got out and walked up the front steps, knocked on the door and waited.
In a few moments the door opened just a crack, secured by a chain-lock
from the inside.

Banyon addressed the woman. "Mrs. Densmore?"

"Yes," she answered cautiously. She looked to be in her 50s,
plain but attractive, no makeup, and her graying blond hair hung loose
to her shoulders.

"My name's Zeke Banyon and this is my assistant, Angela Martin."

The woman spoke slowly with a hint of a southern accent. "Yes?
Can I help you?"

"Well, ma'am," Banyon searched for words. "I'm the director
of the Seattle Gospel Mission."

"Oh... my," she said softly. "Won't you come in?"

The living room was tidy and quaintly old fashioned. Upon entering,
one had the feeling of stepping through a time portal into the 1940s. Angela
immediately noticed the intricate white doilies perfectly placed on each
arm of the large brown sofa. The ornate tile-work framing the fireplace
was patterned with strange geometric designs. The center tile at the top
of the fireplace was slightly larger than the others and contained a complex
design of interwoven triangles. Sitting next to the fireplace was an old
rocking chair. One entire wall, opposite the fireplace, consisted of dark
wood shelving filled with books.

"Please," Mrs. Densmore said, "won't you have a seat?"

Banyon and Angela sat next to each other on the sofa as Mrs. Densmore
gracefully seated herself in the old rocking chair.

"What can I do for you, Mr... "

"Banyon. Zeke Banyon. We... well, that is, I was wondering if you
would mind if I ask you about your husband. You see, I took over the Seattle
Gospel... "

"What is it you want to know?" she inquired before he could
finish.

"Well, this may seem like a strange request and I don't want to
upset you, but..."

"You found something, didn't you?" Mrs. Densmore asked as
if she sensed what might be coming.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes. But..."

"Let me guess," she said with a slight, knowing smile. "Does
it have anything to do with numbers?"

"Yes," Banyon answered, somewhat surprised. "Then you
know..."

"I know Patrick was searching for something."

"What do you mean?"

Mrs. Densmore thought for a second. Glancing over at the books on the
shelf, she wondered just how to begin.

Banyon could feel her hesitation. "I don't mean to pry, Mrs. Densmore.
I just thought..."

"No, no." she smiled. "It's alright. In fact I suspect
perhaps it's not simply by coincidence that you've come here."

"How so? I'm not sure I..."

"It's just that I don't know where to begin," she interrupted.
"May I get you both something to drink? A cup of tea, perhaps?"

"That sounds good," Banyon said, getting the impression this
was going to be a rather interesting visit.

Mrs. Densmore got up and disappeared into the kitchen.

Banyon wandered over to the bookshelves to browse the titles. Clearly,
Patrick Densmore had been interested in metaphysics and other unusual subjects.
Many of the books appeared to be quite old and ranged in subject matter
from UFOs and the I Ching to prophetic visions and scholarly works
on the Dead Sea Scrolls. An embossed design on the spine of one of the
books caught Banyon's eye. It was basically two inverted triangles overlapping
each other - similar to the familiar Star of David, common to the Jewish
religious tradition. The triangles were enclosed in a circle. He ran his
finger over the intricately embossed image as if it were a message in braille.
He recognized it as the same design that was on the central tile above
the opening to the fireplace. He pulled the old book from the shelf. It
was titled The Lost Scroll of Ezekiel and other Myths & Mysteries.

"Ah," Mrs. Densmore said, returning with the tea on a silver
tray. "I see you've discovered my husband's collection of esoteric
books."

"So this was a hobby of his?" Banyon asked, putting the book
back on the shelf.

"You could say that." Mrs. Densmore answered. She set the
serving tray on the coffee table in front of them and returned to her rocking
chair.

"An odd hobby for a man of the Cloth." Banyon said, smiling.

"Well," Mrs. Densmore began, "actually it was a bit more
than a hobby. To tell you the truth he was obsessed with all of that sort
of thing. It really began to absorb all of his attention about four years
ago when he found a note tucked between the pages of an old book he found
at a used book store. The book you were just looking at, actually."

Banyon's eyes narrowed. "Really? The one about what was it? Something
about Ezekiel?" He stood up and went over to the bookshelf and read
the title again. News to me," he chuckled. "I didn't know there
was a lost scroll of Ezekiel, mythical or otherwise." He paused for
a moment and thumbed quickly through the pages. Then he said, "I noticed
the symbol on the book is the same as that design there on the fireplace."

"Patrick seemed to think it was important somehow. That design,
I mean. Something to do with what he called sacred geometry, I think. He
had those tiles made by a local artist. You're welcome to borrow the book
if you like."

"Thank you, yes. Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all."

"And the note your husband found inside the book?" Angela
reminded her. "What was it?"

Mrs. Densmore got up and walked over to a big oak roll-top desk and
opened one of the small drawers inside. She pulled out a piece of old,
yellowed paper. It was folded in half, and slightly torn at one corner.
She handed it to Banyon.

The aged paper crinkled slightly as he carefully unfolded it.

"What's it say?" Angela asked. "Read it aloud."

Banyon began to read:

Entry, December 14, 1999.
I'm now more certain than ever that it was a machine.
I believe it still exists somewhere.
I'm going to find it. The numbers are coming together.
THE WHEEL OF EZEKIEL = 180 (half of a complete circle)
SPIN THE WHEEL = 144 (light?) THE ALPHANUMBER =144
180 + 144 = 324
REVERSE DIRECTION = 198, 198+324 = 522
THE WHEEL SPINS IN TWO DIRECTIONS = 360
Circle of Stone = 144
Reverse??? REVERSE THE NUMBER = 198
180+081=261=THE SPEED OF LIGHT IS THE KEY!
TWO SIX ONE = 144
The hub of the wheel = 171 = The Zero Point
(Counter Spiral = 171 = Reversed Spiral)
EAST OF THE HEAD=117=COMMUNICATE=NEGATIVE DARK= NINE LIGHTS
THE WHEEL OF SOUND = 180 = THE WHEEL OF EZEKIEL
Sound?Light? Reverse? Stone???
TIME CHARIOT = 121 = WHEEL OF TIME
SOUTH OF FRANCE = 151

Banyon finished reading and no one spoke for several moments. He couldn't
help but notice the number 144 appeared several times. It was not only
the number value of his own name, it was the number he'd come across the
night his brain felt like it had been barraged with a download of information.
"Do you have any idea what any of this means, Mrs. Densmore?"

"I'm afraid I don't," she sighed. "Patrick and I were
very close and talked with each other about nearly everything, really.
But he didn't seem to want to talk much about this. I'm not sure he even
knew what it meant. At least not entirely. I just don't know."

Banyon took a deep breath. "Mrs. Densmore, may I..."

"Keep the note?" she smiled. "Yes, of course. I have
no use for it but apparently you do."

They thanked Mrs. Densmore for the hospitality and the information and
headed back to town discussing their visit along the way.

"Well," Angela commented, "that was interesting!"

"Yeah, and some of those numbers in that note looked very familiar.
Did you notice?"

"I noticed that. Let me see it again."

He took the note from his shirt pocket and handed to her. She studied
it for a minute.

"Did you notice this?" she said, pointing to something on
the paper.

He glanced over. "What is it?" he asked, trying keep his eyes
on the road.

"This number 522 is the only number that's underlined. And I'll
bet Densmore is the one who underlined it."

"Why do say that?"

"Well, because look. The original writing is really faded. But
this underline looks relatively new and it's a different color of ink.
It looks like a completely different kind of pen. It obviously wasn't underlined
originally."

"522?" Banyon asked.

"Yes. It's the only number that's underlined."

"Hmm..." he said, shaking his head. "I don't have a clue."

"Maybe it is the clue."

Banyon shot her a glance and smiled.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked with a grin.

"I don't know," he answered, evasively. But he did know. He
was smiling because he couldn't believe how fond he'd become of her. His
feelings for her were something more than he liked to admit. Maybe he even
loved her. He thought about that for a moment. Love? No. Well, maybe.
Who couldn't love a woman who would go along with all of this and not
think I'm crazy? "Do you think I'm crazy?" he asked.

She smiled. "You think I'd be here if I did?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you're crazy too."

She hit him in the arm.

Ah, he thought. She likes me."


Inside a warm and extravagantly appointed mansion on a small, remote
island in the Bering Sea, nine men were gathered in the library. The room
was heavy with the sweet smell of cigar smoke, brandy and expensive burgundy.
They sat quietly. Waiting. The slow, rhythmic tick-tock of the pendulum
on the large antique clock was amplified by the silence. Suddenly the double
doors to the library opened and a tall thin man in a long dark coat entered
the room. All eyes turned toward him.

"Gentleman," he began. "Mr. Banyon has read the notes."

The announcement was met with more silence. In a moment one of the members
of the group - a tall, stately gentleman with thick white hair - slowly
pushed his big, maroon leather chair back from the large round conference
table and stood up. With a brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other,
he walked solemnly over to the large bay window and stared out upon the
endless gray sea. His outward expression was stoic. Inside he was smiling.
"Very well, Mr. Walker," he said. "Thank you. You may go."

I'm Hooked!!!!!!!! Now I have to buy it!!!!! Thanks for being so kind and posting this chapter for us. You got a sale from it. *grin*

It certainly does sound intriguing!

Sue Sunshine wrote:

I'm Hooked!!!!!!!! Now I have to buy it!!!!! Thanks for being so kind and posting this chapter for us. You got a sale from it. *grin*

Oh, thank you so much, Sue. Made my day!

I see where it is available on Amazon and Barnes/Noble. How does one get an autographed copy? I want to get it as soon as I get my check on Wednesday.

Sue Sunshine wrote:

I see where it is available on Amazon and Barnes/Noble. How does one get an autographed copy? I want to get it as soon as I get my check on Wednesday.

That would have to come directly from me. Do you have a PayPal account? If so, I could use my account to send you a request for payment.

Sue,
If you don't have a PayPal account or prefer not to use PayPal, you could just send me a check for $18.95. If you want to do that then email me at TheEzekielCode@aol.com and I'll send you my mailing address.

I emailed you from susie@suesunshine.com.

Thank you!

Hey Sue,
I just read your blog, "Am I an Alien?". I had to laugh because I could relate to your comments about your sleep patterns. I'm a night owl, too.

So that is why the quick responses to my posts. Glad to have another night owl aboard. I usually listen to coast to coast am when I am on the computer. Do you listen to that? I know Brew does.

Sue Sunshine wrote:

So that is why the quick responses to my posts. Glad to have another night owl aboard. I usually listen to coast to coast am when I am on the computer. Do you listen to that? I know Brew does.

Well, of course! Don't all night owls listen to C2C?
I'm not a big fan of George Noory but I really like Ian Punnet. I wish Ian could have won the permanent hosting job back when Art was leaving and they were trying out several people as potential hosts. Of course nobody tops Art. He was the master. I miss him.

I enjoyed hearing Andy Lloyd last night (Dark Star Theory). He and I
have communicated long enough that he listed my name in the
acknowledgement page of his book, The Dark Star.

He is also an accomplished artist, and painted the cover of my next book for me! It is beautiful!

Phil Whitley wrote:

I enjoyed hearing Andy Lloyd last night (Dark Star Theory). He and I
have communicated long enough that he listed my name in the
acknowledgement page of his book, The Dark Star.

He is also an accomplished artist, and painted the cover of my next book for me! It is beautiful!

Hey, how cool is that?! Wait, I'll answer my own question: It's way cool! LOL

hahaha Looks like we disagree on the host of c2c, Gary. *grin* I cut my teeth on George Norry. I prefer him over the others. LOL But you have been listening longer than I have. I started about 2 months before George took over.

Brew, Congratulations!!!!! That is so neat! I am happy for you!

Sue Sunshine wrote:

hahaha Looks like we disagree on the host of c2c, Gary. *grin* I cut my teeth on George Norry. I prefer him over the others. LOL But you have been listening longer than I have. I started about 2 months before George took over.

Brew, Congratulations!!!!! That is so neat! I am happy for you!

Well, George does certainly have a ton of fans, no doubt about that. I'm reminded of a favorite old saying: If weren't for different opinions there'd be no horse races!"

Speaking of C2C, I'm really sorry I missed the first hour tonight. I would like to have heard what David Flynn had to say about his new book. But I did go to his website and found his information to be very intriguing. When I saw that he had mentioned the "Dome of the Rock" and the "center of the earth" (in reference to a 12th century map depicting Jerusalem and its temple, at the center of the world) it reminded me of some gematria work I had done some time ago. So I went into my files and found some stuff that, sure enough, seemed to correlate with Flynn's work in terms of the numbers that are involved (see his articles: http://www.mt.net/~watcher/ and http://www.ahrimangate.com/flynn.htm).

Here's some of what was in my files:
____________________________________________________________
THE DOME OF THE ROCK = 171 = CENTER OF THE EARTH = POSITIVE LIGHT
171 = 9
ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY ONE = 252 = THE NEW JERUSALEM NUMBER = CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS = THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST = ALCHEMICAL TRANSMUTATION = ONE HUNDRED FORTY FOUR

The number 144 is mentioned in relation to the dimensions of the New Jerusalem (Rev.21:17) which is said to have 12 gates. 144 = 12x12

THE TWELVE GATES TO THE KINGDOM OF GOD = 360 = THE NEW JERUSALEM IS THE KINGDOM OF GOD = THE TWELVE DIVINE GATES TO THE CITY = THE TREE OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL = CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSMUTATION

360 = 9

ONE HUNDRED FORTY FOUR IS THE LIGHT = 369 = ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY ONE IS THE LIGHT = CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS IS THE LIGHT = DEOXYRIBOSE NUCLEIC ACID CODE IS THE LIGHT = THE GEOMETRY OF LIGHT IS THE YHVH CODE
369 = 18 = 9
THREE SIX NINE IS THE CODE OF LIGHT = 315 = 144+171
THREE SIX NINE IS THE CODE OF DIVINE LIGHT = 378 = 18 = 9
THREE SIX NINE IS THE DIVINE CODE OF DIVINE LIGHT = 441 (Reverse of 144, the number associated with light)
3x6x9 = 162 = 9
ONE SIX TWO = 144 = 9

THE FREQUENCY OF LIGHT IS ONE HUNDRED FORTY FOUR = 504 = THE GEOMETRY OF THE FIRST SIX WORDS OF CREATION

504 = 9

THE ARK = 63 = DIVINE
THE DIVINE ARK = 126
ONE TWO SIX = 144

THE DIVINE ARK IS UNDER THE DOME OF THE ROCK = 387 = THE ONE HUNDRED FORTY FOUR THOUSAND

387 = 18 = 9

Each of the above numbers reduces to the single digit value of 9.
NINE IS THE KEY = 144 = THE SECRET KEY
____________________________________________
Interestingly, this idea of something at the center of the world also brings up the Great Pyramid which is located at the center of the earth's land mass. I have other work in my files (similar to what I posted above) that suggests some sort of a link between the New Jerusalem (described in the book of Revelation) and the missing capstone of the Great Pyramid. Now what all of this might mean I can't say for sure. Perhaps nothing. But the way the number synchronicities begin to pile up gives one cause to wonder. At least it does for me.

This is all very interesting, but way over my head to be sure! I have tried to tune in , but c2c does not reach out here. The hills block it out, and we have difficulty receiving am stations.

It's over my head, too, Zada, but I printed it out for my husband who is 'into' all of that particular stuff. My husband goes to sleep early so he can get up when c2c comes on. Then he goes back to sleep for a couple of hours when it is over. Since I am a night owl, I hear it as I am working on the computer or reading. Yes, you saw that right. I read and listen at the same time. *grin* Part of the alien in me. *giggle*

Thanks for the info, Gary!

Like you, Sue, I can both read and listen. Perhaps that is the parental instinct in most of us, being busy, but still being able to listen for children.

Hi Sue and Zada -

If you feel what I presented there is "over your head" it's probably just because it looks confusing. Actually, it's much simpler than it appears. My work is based on the same premise as that of the ancient art of gematria (a kind of "sacred numerology", for lack of a more descriptive definition). The basic idea is that words and phrases that generate identical number values are thought to be related to one another. Sometimes the relationship is obvious and sometimes it is not. Whereas the Greeks and Hebrews used their respective alphabets and numbering systems to calculate the gematria values, I'm using the English alphabet with the simple serial code of A=1 through Z=26. Some rather amazing "coincidences" occur with this system. For example, you may be familiar with the story of Rennes le Chateau. That is the small villiage located in the South of France with mysterious connections to Jesus Christ, Mary Magdalene, even Isis and the Knights Templar, and more and it is all tied into the mystery of the Holy Grail and the Bloodline of Jesus. Given that, take a look at the following string of "coincidences".

RENNES LE CHATEAU = 151
SOUTH OF FRANCE = 151
JESUS CHRIST = 151
JESUS SANGREAL = 151 (meaning Jesus Bloodline)
VICAR OF CHRIST = 151 (another title for the Pope)
JESUS IS LORD = 151
LORD OF HOSTS = 151
CHRIST THE KING = 151
THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB = 151
YHVH IS THE CODE = 151
ROSY CROSS = 151 (emblem on the tunics of the Knights Templar)
KNIGHTS OF NINE = 151 (there were originally 9 members of the Knights Templar)
THE TEMPLE OF GOD = 151
THE VIRGIN MARY = 151
HOUSE OF MAGDALENE = 151 (the strange church at Rennes le Chateau is dedicated to Mary Magdalene)
ISIS THE QUEEN = 151 (Some suggest there is a connection between Mary Magdalene and Isis)
LIGHT PENTAGRAM = 151 (There is an "invisible" pentagram in the landscape surrounding the village area. See the work of David Wood and Ian Campbell, for example)
THE HOLY FATHER = 151
REVOLUTION = 151
A ONE ON BOTH ENDS = 151 (a reference to the number 151?)
THE MIDDLE IS A FIVE = 151 (a reference to the number 151?)
BALANCE OF MALE AND FEMALE = 151 (FIVE IS BALANCE=108=GEOMETRY, again a reference to 151?)
HOLY SPIRIT = 151
ROSE THORNS = 151
THE TWO KEYS = 151 (Are Jesus and Lucifer the 2 keyes?)
THE CHRIST KEY = 151
SIGN OF THE SON = 151
THE FALL OF MANKIND = 151
THE CODE OF YAHWEH = 151
RED WHITE AND BLUE = 151 (Supposedly these are the colors associated with Isis)

There is more, actually, but this will suffice to provide an example of the kind of "coincidences" that I continue to find using this system. This is the same system that drives the plot of The Ezekiel Code as the two main characters (Zeke Banyon and Angela Martin) struggle to understand the clues that are contained therein. In fact some of the phrases above are what eventually lead them to discover the location of the Lost Scroll of Ezekiel which provides the key that unlocks the mystery of the strange recurring dream that plagues Zeke.

zadaconnaway wrote:

Like you, Sue, I can both read and listen. Perhaps that is the parental instinct in most of us, being busy, but still being able to listen for children.

Okay you guys. I'm jealous. I try to do the reading/listening thing but I usually end up having to do either one or the other but not both. But I guess my parental sleeping/listening ability is pretty good. I do remember many times getting up to feed the baby when my wife was sound asleep. Or was she just pretending to be asleep?

hahaha Thats for her to know and you to find out!

waaaa couldn't get the smilies to work!!!!!

Pretending, if I know anything about women.

Would those numerology coincidences work if the words were spelled in Hebrew, Greek, or Latin?

Numbers are interesting and I've seen coincidences with them in my life ... among other strange things I can't explain.


Still it seems that coincidences with numbers can happen in just about anything:

http://www.lovingit.co.uk/2007/09/the-faith-movement-exposed.html


There were a lot of people who threw numerology into the 9-1-1 attacks.

Their numerology was debunked as well, it can be read on the following forum:

http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread36486/pg1


Don't get me wrong. I love numbers, puzzles, and problem solving ... and mysteries.

I actually LOVED algebra and geometry when I was in school.