Orogenies of Light: The Return of Earth’s First Mountains

By Richard Leviton

ONE DAY IN 2084 EARTH’S ORIGINAL MOUNTAINS SUDDENLY REAPPEARED ON THE PLANET—AS 85,000 DOMED CANOPIES OF LIGHT FROM THE STARS.


The story of this return is told by Blaise, a well-informed but mysterious figure who claims to be an engineer 134 years old and part of an ancient team that first designed the planet. It’s a chronicle of his last field assignment, a unique career retrospective, and a firsthand account of the momentous return of the domes.
These are giant half-spheres of Light that originally helped create the biosphere and were the Earth’s first mountains. They generated the Earth’s sacred sites and the mythic homes of the gods and linked them all in a global pattern of Light.
The domes arrived all at once and started to reorganize the global landscape. It was their fourth visit, and it would be several perilous years as the planet adjusts to it. Blaise and his team of geomancers travel across the Earth and time to deal with the unprecedented perturbations set in motion by this celestial rescue of the planet.
Problems are rife—the revolt of Pan and the Nature Spirits, the continuing dark interference by humanity’s ghostly forebears, the resurgence of Babylon and its imperious agenda, and the planet’s dangerous drift towards becoming flattened like a hockey-puck. But the opportunities are fabulous too as the planet enters an era of unceasing Light and beatific conditions.
The return of the domes lays bare the true history of the Earth, how it diminished from perfection, the benign superintendents of this bold experiment, and who its earliest inhabitants were and the massive problems they created which still affect us today. It is a genuinely apocalyptic moment, as the Earth reveals its original bright pattern of energy and consciousness and starts at last to fulfill its destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532086854

Richard Leviton

Richard Leviton is the author of 16 books, including many on myths and the global geomantic landscape, notably The Galaxy on Earth, The Emerald Modem, Signs on the Earth, and Encyclopedia of Earth Myths. He is the director/founder of the Blue Room Consortium, a cosmic mysteries think tank based in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Since 1984, he has been interacting with and describing the Earth?s Light body and through workshops facilitating in others directed visionary encounters with the planet.

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Copyright © 2019 Richard Leviton.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-8686-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-8685-4 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 10/28/2019

Contents

Foreword

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About the Author

For Judith A. Lewis and Silver Boy

Orogeny: from the Greek, oros, mountain, high ground, and geneia, birth, creation making; a term used in geology to indicate the formation of mountains or entire mountain ranges from the folding of the Earth’s crust and tectonic uprisings. Geologists speak of the Laramide Orogeny (Rocky Mountains) and the Appalachian Orogeny and many others to indicate the history and progressive appearance of mountain ranges during geologic time and how these mountains then dominated a landscape and its physical conditions.

Foreword

Blaise came to see me for the last time before he left the Earth. Left as in left being a human, left his responsibility for tending the planet. He was finished, and he was delivering his final report, his summing up. I suppose one can’t blame him for leaving. He was at this time after all 136 years old, though as he liked to explain with a twinkle his longevity was due in part to those decades he spent off the Earth, his Earth human body in stasis, not accruing any time mileage, when he was exempt from aging as he was off the biological clock.

His final report, as I eventually learned when I got his manuscript—his report to me in person was more of an oral recitation of events—was about the return of the domes to the Earth a few years ago, certainly a momentous event. That is the subject of this book, and Blaise is its author, just to make it clear. His long life itself was not the index of the duration of his work on the Earth, only the most recent installment. He had been here a long time, since the Earth’s beginning. His summing up was not the manuscript; that got to me later and by other means. It was his last report in person to me. Afterwards, I thought of it as his final briefing for me. We had been colleagues for many years at this point.

Blaise regards himself in terms of all his karmic predecessors on his own soul’s timeline when he says he has been here from the beginning, in fact from before that, when Earth was only in the planning stages, and as far as he’s concerned that is a long enough engagement with one project and anyway he got the go-ahead from Above to leave the Earth at last. That’s his characteristic way of indicating the Higher Ups which include, principally, though not exclusively, a recondite order of angels called the Ofanim and which he has in avuncular casualness and for many decades charmingly called the Blaises for short.

That nickname comes from Blazing Star, one of their prime features, which is to appear as a tiny pinprick of Light, like a Blazing Star, from within the center of consciousness. It also derives, more obscurely, from Le Morte d’Arthur, in which Malory says the great magus Merlin regularly reported to Master Bleise about the activities of Camalate, suggesting this Bleise was Merlin’s mentor. He was. Master Bleise passed on suggestions to Merlin. The Blaises are that angelic order about whom the cliché alludes when it asks how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. The answer is 40.3 million. And they can talk to you while they’re twirling, as evidently they talked to Merlin a lot in those days.

These pin-dancers are the Ofanim. They once danced for Blaise not on a pin-head but on the entire Earth which they slowly rolled towards him as they swirled and pirouetted upon it. They once gave Blaise the precise mathematics specifying their manifestations and, for that matter, the manifestation packages of many of the other 39 angelic orders. Yes, there are 40 families of angels, all assigned their particular commissions within the Creation. The Ofanim apparently have a special commission to work closely with humans on matters of the planet’s subtle energy design and the operations of consciousness it directs.

Blaise (he refers to himself as a human side of the Ofanim manifestation) has worked with the angelic Blaises for a full century, he tells me, since they first insinuated themselves with jokes and revelations into his life in 1984 when he was immersed in a mythopoeic exploration of the Arthurian story while he was living in England, though he adds they appeared periodically in his childhood.

Their jokes were snappy, the revelations excellent, he tells me, and his meeting with the Ofanim set the course for the next hundred years of his life. Of course, he knew them previously, probably, he estimates, from many lives, and their professional relationship seems to go all the way back to before the Earth, to other planets and even galaxies. Their joint history gets a bit wild in places. I know it sounds outlandish, but that puts it into the realm of billions of years.

They told him they have been around for about 60 billion years, so far, and that they reside inside each human as a tiny point of blazing consciousness. With a few people, apparently, like our human Blaise, they have more explicit working relationships, mediated, Blaise has alluded at times, by special contracts and agreements that extend over a great many lives here and on other planets.

Readers already familiar with this admittedly strange and even exotic Blaise from the previous books of his and those attributed to him which I have edited in this series will perhaps welcome this final installment in his eccentrically original odyssey. I have somehow managed to be the editorial interface between his metaphysically feral yet frankly exciting inner world quest over the years and inquiring readers. I am an acquired taste, he would declare proudly and mischievously as he sat across from me in my Boston living-room on the Sundays when he came to visit. He abandoned trying to fit in years ago. He knew he was incurably, incorrigibly different, and he didn’t worry about it.

On this last occasion we were discussing the scheduled publication of this his final book, and for me, presumably the last time I would get to edit his explanations. He used to joke that absent the Official Explanation, an absence he was always going on about, alternately in a state of gloom or elation, he was offering his. I mean, goddam it, really, why are we here and how come nobody sat us down to explain things before we got started and made such a terrible screw-up of the works?

I don’t think he was genuinely perturbed by this. He liked the intellectual drama of assuming this peeved, even petulant, stance. I always thought he presented it more in the manner of a what if postulate. What if we were genuinely upset about the lack of any guiding explanation, then how would we express this grievance and take it to the highest levels, the way lawyers used to proclaim they would bring their case up to the Supreme Court? He admits when he first arrived here, he was well-briefed in many aspects of that Explanation.

Blaise’s book, presented here, is his official explanation, his final report on the state of the planet. It is his explanation of a phenomenon that has no context in conventional human pictures of the world and how it works. He calls it the Earth’s Light grid, a kind of Light-based geometric planetary infrastructure. It is a secret disclosure of the true nature of the planet and a bringing forward into the cultural foreground of a key functional fact of the Earth since its beginning.

To someone entirely unfamiliar with Blaise or this particular genre of books that have issued from this publisher, his chronicle might read like the final report of an engineer recounting his last field assignment, except the frame of reference for this engineer is a planet and its complex energetic structures. He compiles his final report on the eve of his departure, from his career and planet.

It is like an engineer’s career retrospective, his work journal, his summing up. He talks about some of the technical problems he encountered and explains how they got that way, which entails a capsulized history of the Earth itself. Still, it’s a school of engineering probably unfamiliar to most as it involves clairvoyance and knowledge of the world’s myths, what they mean and what they point to, and a working model of the actual operation of the planet and consciousness.

Hardly anybody has been aware of the domes, a prime feature of this Light grid, either in the three almost palpable prior visits and in their strong residual presence in between those visits, so there was little intellectual preparation for their tumultuous fourth presence now underway since only a few years ago. Blaise wrote this book, in part, to explain why the domes are here, to narrate their arrival and impact, to give details of the missing context, the true backstory of the Earth that we need to make sense of this startling phenomenon.

The domes were the first mountains on the Earth, and they were made of Light. Blaise borrowed the term orogeny from geology to indicate the rising up of these primordial mountains of Light in the planet’s earliest days and the reiteration of this mountain-building three more times including four years ago.

It is difficult to convey the metaphysical novelty of someone saying, as Blaise did to me that afternoon, The Earth no longer requires my attention. He meant not only in this life, which apparently was ending (for someone at age 136 that is an entirely reasonable assumption to make), but for the foreseeable future of any of his forthcoming lives. He did not anticipate any need to come back.

The Earth, finally, was well-established, had passed through its major developmental hurdles for some time (I suppose the Battle of Shambhala forecast for the year 3000 A.D. might be an exception or perhaps the next exigency requiring geomantic input, but we do have some breathing space before we have to confront that). The return of the domes was a threshold completion of this. It had been long anticipated, and now that it had happened, the Earth was getting set right, and was now gradually being restored to its original orientation. As readers will see from Blaise’s narration of what happened after the domes returned, that single geomantic event changed nearly everything on the planet. Many related geomantic systems had to be adjusted to balance everything out.

He might not even wish to incarnate for a while (he used to joke about taking a millennium off from the travails of planet-building), or he might launch himself into a new Light grid design project with his old Pleiadian buddies. Old in the sense of friends and colleagues from way back, the kind about whom you would say in advanced adulthood, We went to school together, though you might have to be British and be referring to Eton or Cambridge to carry the right gravitas and cultural nuances of this kind of socially identifying remark.

Blaise’s school was Pleiadian. He never made a big deal out of it, but he never kept his origin in the closet either. To him, it was as matter-of-fact as saying I come from Connecticut. He would say, "Nobody is from the Earth anyway. Everyone is an immigrant, came from another planet to here. It’s just that most people haven’t remembered yet where they came from. It’s elsewhere."

One of Blaise’s paramount themes in his work, writing, teaching, and even joke-making is that humans can have a higher level of consciousness. Sure, that’s nothing new: yogis have been saying that for millennia. Blaise didn’t mean it that way, at least not in that mundane, almost clichéd, sense. He said this higher level would be achieved by recognizing the inherent energetic consanguinity between human and planet. That resonant linkage comes through the template, another of his terms (though he attributes it to the Elohim), which is the isomorphic shared pattern by which Earth and humans were designed.

The Hermetic Axiom As above, so below corresponds to this truth, though Blaise amends it by adding in the middle too, to include the planet as part of this shared design package, Heaven, Human, and Earth, all off one template. That puts the three in a constant, intimate, reciprocal interactive loop of effects, and that is a subject Blaise returns to often in this narrative, showing its working.

The language of that pattern is geomantic, and the spelled-out sentences are the innumerable Light temples comprising the planet’s Light grid. The Earth and the human share the same design, only differing in outer form, and that shared form is the template, and that was created by the Elohim, and they are one of those 40 angelic orders Blaise talks about, and an important one. He calls the Elohim humanity’s god-parents and the Earth’s midwives. They brought both into being and coordinated their consanguineous lives with the template.

This is a whole engineering world of planetary design and operation he is pointing to and sometimes, as you can see, it requires a technical language. Though there is a strong engineering aspect to this pattern of what myths called holy sites, it is an eminently practical, empirical mandala of consciousness. It is a vast, globe-encircling matrix of sacred sites and processes all keyed to mirror essential aspects of the Complete Human, the Earth’s own energy body serving as mentor in this disclosure. This global mandala is meant to be used. The Light temples, what you find, psychically, at the holy sites, making them holy in the first place, are the architectural forms in Light that serve as initiation venues.

Think of it as a vastly detailed, self-guiding initiation workshop for humans. That famous, if vexing, Official Explanation is distributed throughout this pattern, Blaise says. You’ll collect its individual words from the different Light temples, and when you’ve interacted with enough of them, you’ll put it together and read out and savor the long sought-for Explanation as you finally bust the Old Man’s prolonged secrecy game and turn His pockets inside out.

Blaise was often making cracks like this, referring to what people usually in a more reverent tone call the Supreme Being as a kind of wizened, quixotic head of a large company Blaise works for, and one worthy of receiving helpful, even pointed, criticism now and then from His field workers such as Blaise.

The legendary Grail Quest, one of Blaise’s perennially favorite themes, is the life-long process of interacting with these many sites so they become mirrors reflecting back key components of the Complete Human and finally wake us up. It may surprise readers to learn the Grail Quest was geomantically referenced and that the legendary Grail Castle was one of those numinous Light temples. The geomantic engineering work he was involved in was about fine-tuning these mirrors and encouraging people, sometimes shoving, cajoling them, to interact. Prior to 2020, that project was, in his finely chosen words, bloody Sisyphean.

The more recalcitrantly resistant humans became up to 2020, the more impatient our old pal Blaise grew. We can’t blame him, really: he knew what was coming and he was trying to prepare the planet and humanity for the startling advent. Not alone of course. He had his colleagues, which at times included myself. Blaise had been briefed on the activation schedule for between 2020 and 2084 and a great deal had to be done to make the planet ready and then to adjust the planet and keep it from wobbling after these inputs had been introduced. He had to deal with the obstacle that mostly humans did not know the Earth had an energy pattern, that the human had a matching one, and that people were expected to interact with the planet on the subtle levels to activate both versions. Humanity had backed itself into a major blindspot, and it made Blaise’s job hard.

The energy pattern is enormously complex with many layers and reciprocal processes. Since 2020, this global template has been incrementally and then progressively activated, tweaked, intensified, and thoroughly upgraded under close supervision by what Blaise likes to call the Higher Authorities, the ones who, if they ever feel like it or I find the correct bribe to induce them, will provide the long awaited, if not goddammed late-arriving, Official Explanation.

He liked to talk like that, half-profane, half-profound, with a joke in the middle, but at the core of this was a passionate commitment to the truth of the planet. He played the quest for the Official Explanation in both directions: it lay distributed within the planetary energy pattern and the Higher Authorities held it in reserve. Between one or the other source, maybe both at the same time, you could get it if you persisted, reaching up, extending your hand amidst the leaves, and snatching that Golden Apple as the Higher Authorities, no doubt, cheered.

Self-awareness, true sentience, and acute reflexive consciousness, he told me once, "mean your identity includes the planet and its geomantic template. That is your true and complete body of awareness that you stand within and say with authority, with responsibility, hell, with levity, why not, this is truly me. I am my selfhood and the planet. That is how big I am. Your awakened self-awareness encompasses the complete planet and its energy template and of course all the life-forms and phylogenies resident on it and all the Light temples and processes of consciousness they exhibit: that is truly me.

Your self-definition dilates even further when you realize the essential components of this planetary and human design, this Elohim template, derive from the cosmos and spiritual worlds, so you are more truly a Cosmic Being. I know: it’s a bit grand, a bit daunting, so at this point I usually break for lunch.

Well, yes, the old Blaise could sound a little like an Old Testament prophet at times, when he got wound up and passionate about explaining the pattern. The last time, which is now more than 40 years ago, Blaise dictated his story to me during a succession of weekend visits with me in my Boston home. Those dictations I shaped into what we published as Theosophon 2033, his retrospective account of a unique multi-planet initiation event which, frankly, stills seems outrageously bold and intellectually provocative even to think about. Even though I participated in that extraplanetary event, I still marvel at its scope.

Blaise said the Earth had been part of a Light grid encompassing many planets and extending across a thousand Light years. My mouth still drops open when I think about that. Imagine standing inside a Light temple that extends six quadrillion miles from front door to back exit. Our own planet was inside such a galactic expanse during that time. That account he dictated to me. This time, however, he prepared the manuscript in finished typed form. How about that.

I think he did it on a small portable typewriter—very Old School indeed—which as readers well know is a handy device that never fully retired from the scene despite the onrush of sleeker, faster, finger-touch technologies. Some writers still quirkily prefer it. He must have typed the book while sitting on his favorite grassy hill in Somerset, locally known by its quaint old name, Lollover.

I like the clacking sound, Blaise said. It’s good finger exercise too. He deposited the sheaf of pages on my coffee table, grinned, and said, There it is.

Except he took it away with him, explaining it wasn’t finished. He showed it to me as a teaser of coming attractions. He would insure I got it when he was done. I still don’t know where he did this clacking so pleasant to his fingers, whether it was outdoors under the fickle Somerset sky or in some ivy-draped cottage in a nearby hamlet. It’s so damp and muddy in Somerset, the manuscript would have gotten warped, even mildewed, and could he have typed all those pages with the little typewriter bouncing on his knees as he clacked the small keys? I can’t quite picture it. Had he pitched a tent somewhere? He did go in for secrecy and seclusion. Readers of his testament My Pal, Blaise will know that.

He would appear among us, work with us on a project, stay for a while, then disappear for another decade or so. The last anybody in our small group reported him being in their vicinity was in 2064 when he was involved in that business with our friend Frederick Graham Atkinson out in Sun Valley, Idaho, at the Hierophancy headquarters when a crucial algorithm went missing. Those curious about this can read Frederick’s lively account in The Hierophancy Files.

Here’s something I haven’t mentioned yet. His physical body seemed fake, like a simulation somehow. It was thin, almost ethereal. It seemed healthy and viable, but I had this nagging sensation when I looked at him sideways, so to speak, caught him momentarily out of the side of my eyes which probably means subliminally on my part, a little of my occasionally flourishing psychic ability flaring up, that his physical adult male human form was a thin, weakening veil over something else more perdurable, more primary, more the original Blaise.

That meant that his departure and the conclusion of his Earth and human career did not necessarily mean bodily death and all the Bardo paperwork that usually entails. I had the suspicion maybe he had already done all that, filed the paperwork early, and when he left, he would drop his human fake form and let it turn into dust and ashes as he flared off the Earth in a glorious Pleiadian form just as he had, I have no doubt, originally arrived in billions of years ago. I didn’t bring this up in our talks because I knew he wouldn’t address the query. It wasn’t coyness or his desire to reserve certain state secrets to himself; he just didn’t care any longer, didn’t think the matter warranted any further discussion, and it would be as inconsequential as asking him what socks he wore yesterday.

His extreme human age of 136 seemed of little distinction or consequence to him. I could easily imagine him twinkling as he shrugged his shoulders. I always told you I cheated on the mileage, fiddled the odometer, just like the Blaises always cheated on their total manifestation count. They always had more than the official permitted limit. So I had that in common with the Blaise Boys. My years off-planet probably shaved some years off the mileage. If you’re not subject to Earth gravity, your body ages slower and you gain more years. As for the Blaises, they got an original generous endowment of years that’s still running. Presumably, they’ll still be here until the end of this Age of Brahma.

I feel it is necessary to say a few words about how I finally acquired the manuscript. It was typical Blaise in style. The last time he left a manuscript, although that one was not quite a finished book, he placed a pile of handwritten notebooks on the lintel of an archeological site at Teotihuacan, Mexico. They eventually reached Frederick Atkinson, then a Dartmouth College professor, who edited them for publication in 2026. I was his editor. This time Blaise left his manuscript inside a waterproof box on Lollover Hill with a brief note in a waterproof envelope that said: So long, Edward. You’re a pal. See you sometime. The Edward was me. I was glad he had found me to be a pal.

That is a word and condition Blaise was particularly fond of. Pal. He had a few pals, including my much younger long-time executive editorial assistant, Lars Jaanusson, who will be taking over this special line of books after this one, which is my last to edit, though I have one more book in the works that I am writing. I don’t quite have Blaise’s longevity. I suppose I haven’t yet had the chance to put my body in long-term storage and off the clock.

I trust readers will excuse me exiting the field as my nose is up against age 90. Lars already has a book in the works, something suitably Blaise-inspired and which we expect to publish in the next few years and which will continue the story of the domes as related in this present book, only taking it further, showing the long-term ramifications of their return and their effect on world culture and the benefits of having the rightness and cosmic orderliness of Earth reality amply demonstrated every day by their presence.

Blaise had written out the complete mailing address for me in Boston and provided postage in yet another waterproof envelope, left suitably discrete so nobody was tempted to steal it, and I eventually received the box. It was perhaps a month after his disappearance. Lollover is not a well-trafficked hill and apparently nobody had climbed it since Blaise’s last time there. Then somebody did, found the box, marveled at the fact of it, and dutifully shopped it to the post office. This time I would also be Blaise’s posthumous editor, again preparing a manuscript for an author who had vacated the planet with no forwarding address. He would have to be content with my mostly minimal editorial changes.

Even as to that, I am not entirely certain he is deceased. We never thought he was in 2019, the last time he disappeared with a unique flourish and a manuscript left behind. But this time, like the last, his disappearance or deliberate departure is again marked by ambiguity and mystery, which pretty much is how Blaise liked things, and anyway, that’s the Blaise Boys’ signature too. I studied with the experts at Mystery and withholding and revelation.

It wasn’t that Blaise couldn’t be bothered going to the post office. In both cases, Teotihuacan and evidently Lollover Hill were the last places he was at before his departure. We later understood, and Blaise in fact confirmed it years afterwards, though we had deduced its likelihood at the time, that he had left from that site in Mexico. Left as in left the planet altogether. He stepped into that temple ruin at Teotihuacan and disappeared. He never stepped back out of it. He wasn’t seen or heard from for almost 20 years after that, with a few exceptions, we realized in retrospect. Presumably he left the Earth in a similar manner from Lollover Hill, and, so far, we haven’t heard from him, not even a postcard.

He had, as fantastic as it still sounds at times to me, gone home to the Pleiades, as he put it, to his original home planet in the Celaeno star system, one of the Seven Sisters of the principal Pleiadian star cluster. This time I’m again not sure where he went, though I am sure he went somewhere, but possibly he was more definitively gone this time with almost no trace remaining of his body.

As to why he liked ambiguity and mystery, I think actually it wasn’t that, not a predilection for those conditions in itself, but rather the innate otherness of his life and its requirements as he claimed his true self more fully. He wasn’t trying to be elusive. His life took place in a context very different than a normal human’s. You could say his headspace was foreign. He lived inside the Hermetica, the great body of occult Mysteries attributed to Hermes. His frame of reference was radically unlike that of most people which made it hard to understand his mental style and his consequent style of living. Blaise certainly could talk and write coherently, but what he talked about was at first hearing or reading foreign to how most people regarded reality.

He came from and lived always in reference to a different state of reality. Obviously, any planet in the Pleiades system will have different physical parameters than Earth’s. But the mystery Blaise seemed to operate out of pertained more to the Pleiadian framework of reality and mode of perception. In his home world, the starting point for perception, cognition, knowledge, and self-awareness was pitched higher, finer, faster than we are accustomed to here.

It’s like the way Europeans, especially the phlegmatic British, would say America always felt like it ran at a brisker, faster, more confident pace than anything they had experienced in Europe, that even the light seemed perkier, that Americans tended to be brassier, ruder, and more direct in expression. The Pleiadians, I gather, see reality from a much broader viewpoint, one that takes in more factors, more planets and star systems, and more responsibility. The Pleiades is after all the home of the top planetary Light grid designers. If you want a Light grid fitted to a new planet, you call the Pleiadians to do it right.

Once you get over the shock that such things exist, the rest of it all makes sense. That’s the uncanny thing about our pal, Blaise, and his work: it is fully rational. It’s just that the scope of that rationality is much broader than we usually allow.

It has been about four years since the time Blaise’s report covers, which he seems to have written simultaneously with the domes returning to the Earth in 2084. Frankly, readers will probably find the time sequence Blaise works from a bit daunting (some of my editorial colleagues say confusing) in the sense that it is never entirely clear over how long or short a time period his narrative spans. It seems like a stretched present moment. Still, that year, 2084, will certainly be underlined in future history books when they start including this type of facts. I dislike hyperbole, but that event, the domes’ return, was momentous. It still is.

The planet is still adjusting to this vast change of state, the year in which Earth’s first mountains, the domes of Light, returned to the planet. Blaise writes his report as a firsthand observer, but also as an insider. He knew the domes were coming, and why, and, more importantly, what they were and what their purpose was and had always been as this was their fourth visit here. He knew how their return would thoroughly alter the planet, set it right again, as how could they not, since they had been instrumental in the manifestation of Earth.

That fact alone will strike many as astounding since the majority of the Earth’s population, I suspect, was unaware of their existence and did not know of any previous visitations from these huge mountains of Light or of a previous orogeny. That is a distinguished word from geology to describe the massive rising up of mountains, and Blaise uses it to show how the domes were Earth’s first peaks. Before the physical mountains rose up, those mountains we so take for granted today, there were mountains of Light, which in fact were far taller, 16.5 miles in elevation, presiding over complete ranges of smaller Light peaks.

Most people by now, I think, are aware of the domes, especially after that misguided tabloid sensationalist nonsense report of mass stealth spaceship landings. The domes are not spaceships. They are half-sphere canopies of Light that convey the holographic presence of individual high-magnitude stars to a highlighted area of Earth landscape 33 miles across. They look like the domes that top some of the older Gothic cathedrals, although undoubtedly the architects derived that design for a roof from the human memory of the star-domes.

Many domes came. Blaise says the total count is 1,746, with another 83,808 smaller ones being deployed within the principal or mother domes. They make a vast array, a globally blistered landscape, Blaise says, and he emphasizes that their distribution pattern was mathematically calculated in advance, like a seating plan at a banquet in which every guest’s location was carefully plotted.

Blaise writes from the point of view of having seen it all, having, in fact, witnessed all four dome arrivals, and, even more challenging to belief, having participated in the design of the dome distribution pattern and the selection of the stars that would be holographically presented to the Earth in the domes. All of this, it seems, before the Earth even existed or at least was a viable setting for the domes. He starts at the place of insight and initiation we can only hope to end up at. He lives in the reality of the domes and what they mean and that he meanwhile tries to introduce us to, we readers who may never have encountered such a fact about our own planet. It’s as if he merrily waves to us as he perches on the rounded peak of one of those mountains of Light that soar up 16.5 miles. Not just waves: he earnestly wants to explain to everyone how they got here.

If you carefully read the world’s treasury of myths you’ll find hints and clues about the domes. They are never called domes; typically, they are the homes of the gods, the heightened deity sanctuaries associated with mountains. Blaise told me once how the Navaho of the American Southwest distinguish two forms of the mountains. Take Mount Taylor, which rises 11,306 feet near Albuquerque. It has its physical qualities, its volcanic history, snow-pack, and rock-hard appearance. But it has another, inner form, the Navaho say.

There it is Turquoise Mountain and has been on the Earth since long ago with the Holy People of the First World. First Man brought it up from the Third World and set it on his magic robe and decorated it with turquoise. The medicine men could see this inner form. So can the clairvoyant geomancers, like Blaise. This inner, truer, original form is a dome. That is the Turquoise Mountain the Navaho speak of, the dome as the first mountain of Light before the physical one.

The Navaho term for this is Biigistiin, which means one who lives within it, as in a feature’s inner life-form. The outer form will vary in accordance with the requirements of Nature, be it mountain, stream, or star, but the inner form is always humanlike. That is a prescient nod to the reality of the conjoined human-planet template. The landscape, reality, life itself, according to this view, are the conjunction of the outer physical form and the inner true life-form. It’s likely the magic robe First Man set Turquoise Mountain upon is the Earth’s Light grid.

Up until 2084, when you saw a mountain you would see its physical aspects and if you were psychic, you would see its inner form, though it would be a weak residue of its original endowment. After 2084, you could potentially see both physical and inner form (dome) easily and together. It would depend on your psychic abilities and what you thought was possible regarding reality. Blaise assures me people only have to be a little psychic to see the domes now. They are not quite in the physical world, but lie shimmering very close to it.

This may cause your head to spin just a little, but the inner form of the mountain was here first. The Navaho’s Turquoise Mountain was here before Mount Taylor physically existed. The domes preceded the rising up of physical mountains. They were the planet’s first orogenies; that was the time when the inner spiritual form was actually the only form. When the mountains appeared, they were the second, outer form of this original inner Light pattern. The domes were Earth’s first mountains. Then came the mountains, then the domes again, this time appearing to settle over the mountains like holy auric canopies. Don’t worry if this puzzles you at first; Blaise capably lays it all out in the book.

Blaise gave me a couple ways to visually conceive of the dome pattern. It can be mentally intimidating to form a coherent sense of this shocking reality. Picture a mature sunflower head, with its almost 2,000 seeds neatly arrayed along what appear to be, when you look carefully, a number of spirals. The sunflower seeds are represented by the four dozen smaller dome caps deployed within the scope of the master dome. Lay this pattern out on the landscape and picture it being 33 miles wide and blazing in Light. Then lay out another 1,745 of these sunflower patterns and connect them with lines of Light.

That’s one way to picture the domes. The other is to imagine a big blister on the landscape and four dozen smaller blisters underneath it; then multiply this pattern so you have 1,746 blistered areas, each massive at 33 miles diameter. However you picture it, this is a globally spanning pattern of canopies of Light.

Much of Blaise’s report entails descriptions of how he and his team had to make continual adjustments to related geomantic systems after the domes returned. This adjustment period seemed to last a couple years, from 2084 to perhaps 2086. His chronicle’s time frame and in fact his own time experience during the period of adjustment seem vague and overly fluid at times in which divergent time periods seem to overlap or dovetail in a long present moment, a condition which Blaise attributes to the fourth-dimensional nature of the domes themselves. Past, present, and future seem inextricably mixed into one moment. He also addresses where the domes came from (the star Capella in the constellation Auriga), and why (to make Earth life and consciousness possible), and what they comprise (live holograms of star gods of high-magnitude stars).

On the subject of adjustments, I catch my breath when I consider the last time, according to Blaise, the planet was adjusted to accommodate the domes, was millions of years ago. The return of the domes qualifies as epochal. It is marvelous, when I think they are out there, right now, and I can see a few from my office window here in downtown Boston. The Earth is profoundly changed.

Readers of previous books in this series that involved Blaise will be used to that level of mystery where loose ends are never tied up in a satisfactory 3D manner. It’s like 3D-accustomed eyes trying to make visual sense of a hypercube, a cube spinning in the fourth dimension. You can’t see it all at once; it seems to be constantly in motion. It’s like that with Blaise and what he talks about, even his true name. True in an Earth sense. What is his name? Who is Blaise anyway?

Clearly, Blaise is not his birth name but one he adopted in emulation of his mentors, his pals of long-standing, the Blaises, better known as the angelic order called Ofanim. He calls them Blaise and they evidently call him Blaise, as we do. Hello, Blaise. What his birth name was, where he was born, nobody seems to know or remember, or perhaps those who once did are long gone from the scene.

I will mention in passing that readers will note the epistolary tone of Blaise’s report. He writes it as if addressing his comments to somebody close, like an old dear pal, as if the whole book is a letter to a friend explaining events. He never identifies this you he writes constantly in reference to. They appear to have been pals for a long time. It flavors his narrative with a certain enigmatic quality with a tinge of melancholy because of what happened. Readers should feel free to develop their own theories as to the identity of this unnamed you.

The thing you have to realize about Blaise was that his consciousness was oriented in a different direction than that of most people. While everybody was looking West, he gazed up to the North. That’s the way French scholar Henry Corbin characterized the viewpoint of the early seers of Iran. They looked toward the point of orientation, the Far North or Cosmic North, the Orient. It was another way of saying the original Hyperborean design for the planet, the engineering blueprint for conjoined human and planetary reality, the Light grid. Even better (Blaise will like this), they were oriented to the Official Explanation.

Blaise was always looking that way, probing for more details, more memory recall, for complete alignment with the Orient, in this special sense. He looked plausibly human; he drank coffee; wore sneakers; complained; swore copiously; would careen wildly between Henry James and Henry Miller in his talking and half the time you thought he was doing stand-up comedy to an elite audience while the other casting prophecies that outdid Delphi. His tone was as likely to vary from engineer to mystic when he talked about geomantic matters. But his attention was always riveted on acquiring and keeping that point of orientation. That was his center of gravity, he would explain, what kept him upright and clear, what prompted him to get out of bed in the morning.

Probably he was born as a human male about 136 years ago and had parents and even childhood friends though I suspect he did not seem quite normal. He might even have played baseball, though he probably was only pretending to be a boy with a fat glove playing shortstop. Early on, Blaise began to retrieve the memory of his prior lives and place of origin (periodic visits by the Blaises helped this), and he identified this as a planet in the Celaeno system in the Pleiades, a star cluster that sent an ample number of Light grid designers to Earth billions of years ago to install, adjust, and supervise the operation of the planet’s Light grid. Some remained here as long-term residential geomancers.

He gradually reclaimed his backstory and with that his life purpose. He never, as far as I know or have heard from colleagues, made a big deal out of this extraterrestrial origin, but he never backed down from his insistence on its factuality. The degree of his engineering knowledge of the planet’s subtle bodies and its geomantic energetics certainly supports his case of Pleiadian origin.

Still, one feels taken aback somewhat when you realize Blaise counted among his colleagues and fellow field workers the overseers of the planet, its designers and sponsors at the highest level. I’m talking about a number of angelic orders, several archangels, a host of Ascended Masters and Ray Masters, and still others. He routinely and, it seems, casually, worked alongside them and did not consider it exceptional or even worth making much of an issue about it that he had so many friends and colleagues in high places, as the saying goes. To him, they were his professional buddies and colleagues of long-standing; he’d worked with them for so long they were as if on a first-name basis with him.

The real significance of this, and I still find this rather breathtaking, is you have here irrefutable proof of the purposeful manifestation and elaboration of the Earth and the humanity, Nature, and the rest of the living biological kingdom flourishing and evolving on it. It was all done on purpose, meticulously planned and competently executed, commissioned and christened at the highest level, and superintended ever since by benevolent, far-seeing agencies.

All I can say is I find that remarkably reassuring, don’t you, that none of this was an accident or the unpredictable product of blind evolution or mechanistic determinism as the most reactionary of scientists still insist. Surely the reader finds this proof of intention, design, and high rationality cheering too?

In closing I will say this: Goddam, I’m going to miss our old pal, Blaise.

—Edward Burbage,

Boston, Massachusetts, June 24, 2088

1

It’s nice to finally be on the winning side.

I was lying on Lollover Hill outside Glastonbury gazing into the clear blue sky when the domes came back. I should say I was lollygagging. Who knows? Maybe that’s the meaning of Lollover, to dawdle or idle aimlessly. That’s what I was doing but I would add my lollygagging had a quality of luxurious purpose. I was watching the future, or was I in that future remembering the past? Anyway, let me tell you the grass is comfortable to lie upon up here. I am gracious with regard to the diminutive stature of this modest hill. It’s only about 291 feet high, a slight rounded green rise above the small village of Compton Dundon.

I first came up here in the autumn of 1984. I had just learned about the domes and how they would one day return to Earth for their fourth presence. I reclined on the comfortable bare hilltop and imagined what that return might be like. Now, a hundred years later, I am watching that long awaited dome return. Honestly, both time periods seem to overlap. I lollygag in 1984 and 2084 and they seem the same moment. I seem to occupy both time nodes, but come to think about it, I’m not convinced I’m even fully here on the Earth anymore.

I suppose you should expect that kind of ambiguity when you’re 136 years old. Technically, that’s how old I should be, except you can shave a number of decades off that tally on account of my living off-planet a fair number of years. That’s like going off clock-time with regards to the aging of your body. Living in the Pleiades these recent years puts the aging clock of my Earth body on hold because to live there required me to take on a Pleiadian form to accommodate the different life conditions, atmosphere, chemical composition, and the other physical parameters you’d expect to find on a Pleiadian planet.

But I didn’t want to miss this. These domes haven’t been here for millions of years. We have had only their energy echoes over our hills and mountains. Now we get the real thing again. It’s like looking up into the inside of a massive bell full of Light, as if you are in the gravity well of a great star settling down slowly over you and the hill and a great deal of surrounding landscape, like a cake canister slowly lowered to transparently cover a lovely cake on a stand.

There is a sound of great constant humming as the dome settles down on me. It’s the sound of Light itself, like a smooth-running motor of the spiritual world. Around the curving base of the dome stand several dozens of my pals, the Blaises. Officially, they’re angels, known as the Ofanim, which means wheels, but they look like a landing party standing outside a descending helicopter ready to jump onto the land and set out in all directions as the dome’s advance guard.

They’re the ones who told me about the domes, their complete history in fact, and how they would one day come back to the Earth, 1,746 of these canopies of stars. If you didn’t know what these were, you’d swear a host of celestial mountains of Light was now inexplicably, wondrously, seemingly without justification or at least advance explanation, landing upon the Earth everywhere. I suppose you might also, if you were of that frame of mind, construe this as the sudden intimidating arrival of thousands of huge spaceships from outer space. I could see how people might see it this way, though that would be inaccurate.

I wanted to be here for that momentous arrival. I do not exaggerate. It is a highly significant moment for the Earth on the order of a geomantic redemption. If I were one of those Persian seers from long ago, I would call this the heralded Frashokereti, the renovation of the world, or if I were a Jewish prophet, the Tikkun-olam, the repair and restoration of the world’s original optimal condition. Maybe not the complete repair job, but certainly a big part. That’s why I came back to the Earth, and that’s why I came back specifically to his lovely old dog of a hill. It’s familiar. This is the fourth time I’ve witnessed the arrival of the domes. The history of the domes coming and going from Earth spans four billion years. I suppose I should feel in awe of that number, but I’m not. It is all very familiar.

Somerset for some reason received more than its share of domes. I once asked Blaise how many there were in Somerset. There are 22 domes, and up to 1,056 smaller dome caps which are like subsidiary smaller domes inside them. These domes are big: 33 miles in diameter and 16.5 miles tall. The dome caps can range from about a half-mile to nine miles across. Somerset, which is a mostly farming county and close to sea level, even, in Glastonbury, a little below it, isn’t that big a piece of British landscape; it measures only 1,610 square miles. If you could see Somerset from above, with all its domes and dome caps in place, it would look like a fantastically blistered landscape, all these canopies of Light crowding up upon one another, barely any land left unilluminated by these stars.

Why did Somerset get so many domes? Maybe its name is a clue. The usual etymology is from the Old English word Sumorsæte, which is short for Sumortūnsæte, which means "the people living in or dependent on Sumortūn." That word means sumor, or summer, and tun, for town: Summer-town. You don’t really think of Somerset (or anywhere in England) as the epitome of summer.

A town close to Dundon Beacon is called Somerton. I used to glide my trusty 10-speed bike through its narrow streets after a field mission on the Grail Quest. Somerset, Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Dorset, all adjacent shires, were once the oldest units of local government in England, and King Ine, the Saxon King of Wessex who ruled from 688 to 726 A.D., administered his law code and referred to Somersæte in its text. Other explanations for the name say it derives from Seo-mere-sætan which means settlers by the sea lakes. The Bristol Channel is near, and when it used to flood heavily around here, there were a lot of sea lakes with only the high points like Lollover and the Glastonbury hills poking above water.

I find those explanations boring and inconsequential. I once asked Blaise. I liked their answer better. The name alludes to summer, the middle land, summer as in the middle of the year, but once you get past the surface level of this, summer as the middle means the warm, lovely middle of the layers of reality: Avalon, the astral plane, the realm of Light, what the Buddhists like to call the Sambhogakaya, the gods’ realm of Desire and Light, their enjoyment-body. That’s the secret of Somerset: it is the fabled land of Avalon, thanks to the domes. Its 22 domes templated this small bit of landscape with a surfeit of celestial Light.

It’s the bright middle zone between Earth, which they call Nirmanakaya, and Heaven, known to them as Dharmakaya, Blaise’s home. Others have designated this in-between zone as The Summerland (Emmanuel Swedenborg and the Theosophists); the Happy Hunting Ground (Oglala Lakota); Fiddler’s Green, in British folklore; Elysian Fields (Greek); and Tir na nÓg, the Irish Land of Youth, Promise, and Delight, all a higher-frequency paradisal-spiritual realm.

So, Somerton, Somerset, the Summer Country, and Avalon are names for this in-between place of alluring, delightful Light, which also happens to be the zone of all the Earth’s geomantic templating, what I call the planet’s Light grid.

All of Somerset potentially is an open doorway (22 major ones, and 1,056 smaller ones, to be precise) leading into legendary Avalon, the middle Land of Light where it’s always summer (entirely unlike Somerset and England) with long warm days that seem to stretch on endlessly (which they do: Avalon is timeless, after all), but the epicenter of that multi-doored opening to this mythic realm of Light is Glastonbury, a Landscape of Light packed with geomantic features, chief among them the fact it is the Earth’s heart chakra at the heart chakra level and, if you can wait a little longer for its advent, the intended prophesied site for the descent of the fabled New Jerusalem of Revelation fame.

The designers of the planetary landscape wanted Glastonbury to be densely packed with canopies of Light, to be so bright a celestial landscape on Earth that it could be seen from outer space, or, more presciently, inner space, as all of Avalon. Just picture it: a geomantic hub embedded in a field of 1,078 canopies of Light. Domes and dome caps are what originally (and still do) made the Earth feel holy. They radically sanctified the landscape and through this, human consciousness. More than any other factor, domes created a planet of what people like to call sacred sites and homes of the gods and what we refer to as geomantic nodes—so many portals provided for people to experience the pure Upper Worlds while still living on a terrestrial planet and in biological bodies.

Somerset is especially, perhaps uniquely, saturated with these openings, a landscape like a rolling sheet with 1,078 circular openings in the fabric through which the Light of Avalon, the emissions from the Lake of Light, flow down, and through which human awareness might travel upwards into the Summerland.

As I lay here, relaxed but attentive, I could feel, and see, the descent of all these domes across the world, slowly settling down onto their designated nodes. That’s the slow-motion way of describing it. In fact, they all appeared in place at once, as if one minute you’re looking at only a physical hill or mountain, the next a dome of Light is blazing away celestially like the biggest enigma of your life. But you could have it both ways, because, frankly, it takes the human mind, the way we normally perceive reality, form images of what we’re seeing, some time, so it might seem like the domes are slowly descending and settling down as our picture-making psychic apparatus struggles to come up with a plausible visual image to account for the unprecedented reality disclosure happening right here.

I knew I was in a long stretched-out moment. I’m tempted to call it timeless. As I read back over what I’ve written these past two years, it still feels like the first day, languorous perhaps, elongated certainly, with me on Lollover. I’m lollygagging in the Summer Country as the domes settle down all around me. You know how when you go somewhere, perhaps visit another country or your favorite town, and you’re back there again and it feels you never left it? Or possibly how a summer’s day felt when you were six? Nearly lasting forever, it seemed. That’s how I feel with the arrival of the domes, why I call it an elongated instant. I am here, watching, at all four moments when the domes arrived on the Earth and everything I subsequently did seemed to take place in this first day, even though, on a calendar basis, some four billion years have elapsed since.

I’m back. The domes are back. That’s why I used the word familiar earlier. I am enjoying the rightness of reality; finally, again, it’s coming back to itself. The Earth is being flushed with cosmic rationality, waking up after a vexed coma. Earth reality, human consciousness, how life feels, have been missing something. We missed it for so long we forgot its existence; all that remained was a rumor. Something along the vague line that once the gods lived in their palaces of Light right there in that big rock-faced, snow-covered mountain, but they’re all gone. The mountain would retain a numinous sheen, it would feel holy, like a ceramic lamination in Light, bright enough to catch our attention and remind us that, though we didn’t understand it and might be making it up, this peak was worth our attention and it couldn’t hurt because it usually lifted up our mood.

I realize this event, this sudden arrival of the Light canopies, is for most people the most momentous event of their lives, spectacular and mysterious. Some might regard it as the apocalyptic mass landing of alien spaceships; others might see it as the prophesied appearance of the gods returning to humanity. Gilgamesh would be cheered by this: at last the gods return from their Cedar Forest to live among us again in our great city of Uruk on the Plain of Shinar.

If you read The Epic of Gilgamesh, you can’t help but feel his despondency at how the Sumerian gods, the Fish-Men, departed all human habitations after the Flood. All sense of familiar resonance with the Upper World of gods and meaning was sundered, and the forlorn Gilgamesh set out on a futile quest for immortality. He had to come to terms with a life now lived in a Sumeria bereft of heavenly presence. We have all been living in the same grim aura of that baleful discovery from long ago. It’s been like suffering with amnesia with disturbing fragmentary glimpses of a life we once lived and now are alienated from and cannot remember at all, other than these odd erratic bleed-through images.

Until now. The gods return. The Fish-Men step out of their star domes. I would never call them Fish-Men, even in my most giddy moments of levity, though I do understand why they used this designation. They were Fish-Men because they stepped out of the great Sea of Light that is the galaxy, and, like fish, they navigated this ocean of consciousness with ease and familiarity. I do see the Ofanim, attired in angel bodies, stepping out of the domes in splendor, but there are no famous celebrity fishes in their repertory of metaphorical forms.

As I said, some of the Blaises seemed to be riding the domes down like military personnel standing on the landing rungs of a helicopter, stepping briskly off onto the land as soon as it settles down, while others in great subtlety seemed to shimmer out of the translucent dome. Some of these Blaises were still full-fledged angels, but some were the new hybrid of Angel-Human which began in 2020 when some of the Ofanim started bodily entering the human incarnational stream. That was 64 years ago, and I think you will agree, even if you lack the details, the world feels better. Consciousness has an easier time of it. I nod and wink and smile and even wave as I acknowledge the arriving Blaises.

I can’t be too startled by the reappearance of the domes on the Earth. I waited for them the first time. I knew they had been accounted for in the proposed inventory of geomantic features for the Earth