Divine Awakening: Sacred writing of E. Mingle

By Emmanuel Adotei Mingle

Sacred writings of E. Mingle.

Read about:

• Creation
• How God works inside of you
• Black Jews
• Slavery
• Original Men
• Mama Africa
• New World Order
• Ancestry
• People get ready
• These are the words of the Master

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. Mingle
• Release date: Apr 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802275315

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Divine Awakening

Sacred writing of E. Mingle

Emmanuel Adotei Mingle

Divine Awakening

Copyright © 2022 Emmanuel Adotei Mingle

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

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FIRST EDITION

Prepared for publication by PublishingPush.com

Paperback 978-1-80227-530-8

eBook 978-1-80227-531-5

LALAI

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

INTRODUCTION

PART ONE

DIVINE ESSENCE

1.STRANGE FRUIT

2.DIVINE BREACH

3.MOTHER NATURE

4.CREATION

5.ORIGINALITY

6.ME, MYSELF AND I

7.THE SPIRIT OF GOD

8.THE CROSS

9.THY ESSENCE

10.UTMOST

11.FIRST TIME

12.TIME

13.IN MY SOLITUDE

14.YOU ARE A STAR

15.COMING TO MOTHER EARTH

16.HOW GOD WORKS INSIDE OF US

17.HUMAN QUEST

18.OUR QUEST

19.STUMBLING BLOCK

20.NEGATIVITY

21.YOUR CROSS

22.DIVINE NATURAL LAW

23.CONSCIOUS MAN

24.THE GODS THAT MAKE UP THE TREE OF LIFE

25.THE MUMMY

26.THESE ARE THE WORDS OF THE MASTER

27.THIRD EYE

PART TWO

BLACK LIVES MATTER

28.AFRICAN ANTHEM

29.ORIGINAL MEN

30.HIDDEN MASTER

31.MOTHER EARTH

32.LAST PROPHECY

33.I AM

34.PRACTISING THE MILLENNIUM

35.THE HIDDEN AND THE VISIBLE

36.OUR STORY

37.THIS MAGNIFICENT PIECE OF CAKE

38.TIMED AND TIME

39.ROOTS

40.MAMA AFRICA

41.DIVINE RAPE

42.MAN FROM THE SOUTH

43.I LOVE YOU, MAMA

44.BLACK JEWS

45.SLAVERY

46.RASTA REMEMBERED

47.YET WE MEDITATE

48.BLACK ARK

49.GATHER YOUR FLOCKS

50.THE PHARAOH

51.NATURAL FACT

52.JUDGMENT DAY

53.RAPE OF AFRICA

54.TIME WILL TELL ON YOU

55.I’LL BE THERE

PART THREE

FREEDOM FIGHTERS

56.WOMAN

57.WHERE WERE YOU?

58.IT’S FINISHED

59.MR BABYLON

60.STOP THE WORLD

61.CIA

62.IT WAS WRITTEN DOWN

63.MANKIND

64.WHERE, WHEN, WHO, WHAT, WHY

65.STRUGGLING MAN

66.POLLUTION

67.EUROPA

68.VIRGIN

PART FOUR

PROTEST

69.PEOPLE, GET READY

70.MONEY

71.SYNTHETIC WORLD

72.POLY-TRICK-TIANS

73.THE SYSTEM

74.SUFFER TO GAIN

75.FOR THE CHILD

76.HIDDEN ONE

77.21ST CENTURY

78.OUT OF EGYPT I CALLED MY SON

79.NEW WORLD ORDER

PART FIVE

BODY, MIND, SPIRIT AND SOUL

80.YES, GOD IS GOOD

81.HIDDEN YOU

82.ANCESTRY

83.ST GEORGE AND THE DRAGON

84.THE HOLY SPIRIT

85.YOU

86.NATURAL CYCLE

87.GARDEN OF EDEN

88.INITIATION

89.SPIRIT INTO MATTER

90.BE ON GUARD

91.LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION

PART SIX

MEDITATION TIME

92.WAKE UP

93.I’LL TAKE YOU THERE

94.HIGHER HEIGHTS

95.MISSION EARTH

96.MYTHOLOGY

97.DREAM

98.MEDITATION

99.DEEP FEELINGS

100.HIDDEN MEDITATION

101.SOURCE OF MEDITATION

102.DEEP MEDITATION

103.BE IT

104.KNOW THY SELF

105.SALVATION IS YOURS

106.BLESS

PART SEVEN

ARMAGEDDON TIME

107.REVERENCE TO THE GODS

108.DIVINE REVELATION

109.RESPECT FOR THE ELDERS

110.SELF-IMAGE

111.WHAT TIME IS IT?

112.MESSAGE TO ONE AND ALL

113.THE PARENT

114.ILLUSION

115.PEACE BE UPON YOU

116.HE WILL TALK TO YOU

117.POSITIVE VIBES

118.ARMAGEDDON TIME

119.ALEXA THE LULU AMELU

120.FUGITIVE

121.PRAYER

CONCLUSION

INFORMATION

SPECIAL INFORMATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This work is dedicated to all freedom and justice fighters all over the world. This is The Father Book. The Mother Book is the divine essence. This work is a divine revelation to all of mankind. You need to read both books to get a clearer understanding.

Thank you, all Gods and Goddesses of the entire Blue and White Nile, for the divine inspiration. Thank you genetic connections, thank you ancestors, thank you Tehuti for guiding my pen.

Neter A’arfeti Atum Re, the honourable Elijah Muhammad, Ra Un Nefer Amen, Zecharia Sitchin, Albert Churchward, Herbert Armstrong, Robert Shapiro, Charles Darwin, Cheikh Anta Diop, David Icke, Gerald Massey, John Henrik Clarke, E. A. Wallis Budge, Malcolm X, Louis Farrakhan, Francis Melville, Elisabeth Haich, Earlyne Chaney and the rest I failed to mention.

You, these great men and women, are all part of my inspiration. This work is really all the efforts of many consciousnesses that have been formulated into one cosmic concept from the collective consciousness unto this realm.

The echoes of the past and present voices can be heard throughout this journey. But all this could not have been possible without the Most High whom all praises are due.

Thank you all for making this book possible.

The Father Book

Talking to the Mind

INTRODUCTION

I was reasoning with an elder in London one day when he informed me that London Market in Accra used to be the spot where slaves from the Sahara, Northern Ghana and the rest of the Ashanti were gathered before they made their final passage to the New World. I was born in Modo in the greater Accra region of Ghana. Our house was just outside a ghetto. Only a street separated us from the London Market. Descending towards the Korle Lagoon through this alleyway led to my house. Our house was the last house.

After the house was a flat plain full of grass that gradually became a bush. There were no streets here so there were no cars. This was my playing field. Facing towards the lagoon on your right was a huge building. I often wondered the use of this building. If you turned left, it would lead you to the spot where the elders met and drank palm wine. Tens of palm trees gave shade to this particular spot where palm wine was served. I was taken there one day maybe by an elder. That’s how I knew this spot. It is about the size of a tennis court and, because of its rectangular shape, it was designed by man. Lots of vultures made their homes on top of the palm trees.

Around this plain was also a church ran by my Auntie Sarah who received her spirit from her Common Law husband. He came from Nigeria I was told later in life. It was a Celestial Church of Christ. I was born in a Christian home and most of the household went to this church.

There was a train line that stretched close from the sea in this vicinity and intuition told me this was the route where all the Ghanaian looting ended up. My first encounter with a train around this area was so frightening. I remember the day I saw this black and yellow gigantic object moving towards me. This was the first recorded moment of my early childhood. But I can’t remember if I was alone because I believe the rail line was behind the church so it was getting out of my boundary. I can still remember running as fast as I could towards our house when the train blew its whistle. Top naked, aged between two or three, running through the bushes where sometimes the bushes would be taller than me.

The Gulf of Guinea, or the Atlantic Ocean, is only a walking distance from here. Today, intuition tells me that this part of the ocean was an old harbour. This sight was familiar with me as Auntie Sarah performed healing practices at this section of the ocean. I was a sick child. My childhood around this period was not very good. I did not have that inner peace. Our house was cramped with people. My spirit was not correct. Any time lightning or thunder struck, it affected me. I was forever being prayed for.

It was on this shore that one day Auntie Sarah submerged me in the vast Atlantic Ocean. All my cries were ignored. The waves around here were huge. For a youth of about three years of age, the sound of the waves seemed like a roaring lion. I was screaming, trying to escape. About four adults empowered me. They were not doing me any favours because I was very scared. I do not know if this experience was the reason why up to now I can’t properly swim but I love the sea and even when we moved away from this vicinity, I always went to the seaside outside the Independence Square with my brother and cousins.

The aura of the place where Auntie Sarah was trying to cleanse me haunts me up to this day. The memory is still fresh in my conscious and I can deeply express the unpleasant atrocities that took place there hundreds of years ago, so when the elder gave me the opening lines and exploded my DNA. It all added up.

I started school very young. I attended Ayalolo 2 in Huasa Goomi, briefly where my mother traded at the market. I cannot remember her trade at this stage. I sat next to a girl in my class called Ofebia. I cannot remember anything about this school but I know that sometimes my grandmother, Maami would pick me up and I would stay by her in Korle Wonka, where you saw lots of vultures flying towards my mother’s residence. I don’t think I lasted in this school over a term. My great grandmother, Wawah’s family house was over-crowded, so at about age five, we moved to Odorkor about six miles away, where I attended Odorkor One Primary School where we had a brilliant headmaster.

In Class 2, one day, when our class teacher was absent, Master Yartey told us about our past ancestors living on trees and a brief history of Egypt. He told us about this Egyptian scientist who was so good, when it rained he could knit the waters together. Well, at least that’s how I perceived it but many years later, a family member gave me similar accounts in a car journey from London to Kent on how our ancestors used to live on trees and that they could cover a huge distance without having to step foot on the ground, maybe to avoid predators. I found these stories fascinating so they stuck in my memories.

I was about seven years of age by now. It was around this time that my brother and I were informed that we would be joining our father in Great Britain. Little did I know it would take seven good years for the dream to come true. Every youth in Ghana would adore the thought of going abroad so I was very happy. I remember spreading my arms wide and spinning my whole body then letting go and feeling dizzy. I then visualised.

I know what poverty is and I have tasted starvation before. I love Odorkor with all my heart. I enjoyed Odorkor more than Modo because we had more room to play. Odorkor was under-developed so we could play on other people’s plots. Only one road led to our house from the town centre. All the main streets were turfed in Ghana but as soon as you came off a main street, Mother Nature awaited you. We went everywhere bare footed. We had access to various fruits especially mango. We knew every child within a mile radius. The community was very close. When I wrote ‘In my father’s house all the women are my mother’, I had Odorkor in mind.

You were lucky to see more than five cars pass our house in a day. It was pollution-free and when a vehicle passed at all, it wouldn’t be doing more than ten miles an hour because of the pot holes and when it rained the whole area became a nightmare. People put stones in the puddles and we jumped from stone to stone in some places. The road couldn’t even hold two cars at a time. One had to give way to the other. The road itself was a path: earth, grass in the middle, then earth. On a bright day, you could bring a bed outside and sleep in the road because there were hardly any cars. Most of the vehicles were delivering building materials.

My great grandmother was the head of the house. She was the best person ever in my life after Jesus. From about age seven onwards, we were conditioned to fasting up to 12 PM. My great grandmother taught us about nature. One day, we were all given about seven cassava sticks to plant. I cannot remember the instructions we were given but the portion of my land did not grow. What I had done was plant the sticks upside down. The eye was supposed to face the sun but the mango tree I planted blossomed more than everybody’s. We used to play hide and seek on this tree. All the area boys would gather on or around this tree when they came to the house. We would go walk-about, play football or tell stories sitting on the mango tree under the scorching African sun.

It was during one of those sittings one day that we pledged which cars we would own in the future. I remember Lamptey, one of my friends, saying Peugeot 405. I said VW and indeed my first car was a Volkswagen Beetle. It was a right-hand drive which would suit Ghana but England drives on the left side.

Odorkor had no hospital. The nearest was Fooyoo or the main Korle Bu Teaching Hospital. But there was a clinic where women could go and have babies and this was over a mile away from us. This was vital because I mentioned placenta in The Mother Book, Divine Essence. A new-born arrival is always a happy occasion in every culture. In our Odorkor house, I witnessed over five births. My great grandmother, Wawah, bathed all the new arrivals. We would all gather around the infant for their night baths. The baths always took place in a round bowl, around two feet in diameter. Wawah always used warm water to massage the head carefully and told us about the frontal lobe. The gateway to the Gods. So you see, the things I have mentioned in my books are not mental fantasies but sometimes directly from an authoritarian person with a DNA link; my great grandmother who was an elder.

I had the privilege to carry a placenta home from the clinic one day. I can’t remember which of my cousins or brother it belonged to. I carried it on my head from the clinic under strict secrecy. Like the baby’s bath water, I was instructed to treat it delicately. You pour the water down slowly and calmly. Already instructed where to bury the placenta, I obeyed every word and I personally saw three of my children’s placentas, as I witnessed their births.

I have good memories of my childhood. I remember being at the back of my mother one day crossing the big opened gutter in Kaneshie, looking down and being very scared. I remember being on my mother’s breast, whilst she sat holding my sister Ruth; I held onto her standing suckling her breast. Intuition tells me this was in her village during a family function. Later on in life, when I reminded my mother about this occasion, she told me she had problems weaning me off her breast.

Odorkor was great. We had many adventures. One day, Wawah came home in the afternoon with some distance relatives from her village. We were flying kites. She called me to the side and asked me if I knew the significance of the kite. She explained to me that, like a bird, it comes down safely to Mother Earth, and when you are mad and extremely upset, remember the kite: you control it down to Earth. If you can control your temper in life, it is like conquering the mechanism of flight. No matter how big a problem, there is always a solution. Only don’t get carried away in life because the breath is not yours.

I was twelve years of age when Wawah passed and during that time I only saw her angry once when a stray stone hit her on the forehead. That particular morning, we received our breakfast late. She was struggling with the banku she was preparing for us. She was sweating and very agitable. Out of nowhere the stone hit her. She yelled towards the direction the stone had come.

‘Who threw that stone? Tell me or I’ll do what I have to do with the stone.’

A voice suddenly came out of the bushes.

‘It is I. Sorry, old woman, I was trying to hit a bird and the stone went astray.’

I don’t know who this person was maybe he was hunting for his breakfast as well. But nobody ever mentioned that event again.

Wawah showed us how to tell the time by observing the shadow of the sun and when our transistor radio gave the time, Wawah was always right. Death was forever on Wawah’s lips. I noticed Wawah prayed every moment. She called unto the Lord every so often. Almost every day she prayed for the Lord to claim her first in the household and not even once did I hear her mention hell. Her sun finally set in the year 1975. The following year, my brother and I left our motherland, Ghana.

When we finally arrived in England, I was fascinated to realise that my father and his wife lived in a tower block. Whilst we were in Ghana, I had visualised that my father lived in a house with a lift and when the door opened, you were in his house and there was a telephone box outside his house. Indeed my father lived on the fourteenth floor and you could see a telephone box from all three windows in the flat and we had a lift in the block.

I loved school in Ghana but the English school was better because we did not have to sweep the compound in the mornings or arrange the chairs and tables like we did in Ghana. School keepers and cleaners did all that. I loved my new school, only the pupils talked too much. They asked too many questions. I never spoke so much in a day in Ghana. English people chat. I answered so many questions in the end I decided to shut up. Sometimes I would swap chairs with Allan Eller, just so that I could sit near the window and look outside.

The winters were cold. Snow covered everywhere, on top of the buildings, cars, grass and the streets. I liked the look of the snow especially through my classroom window where the playground would be covered with snow as far as the eye could see. The snow was soft and gentle and we sometimes played snow fights. The calmness, peacefulness and the divine nature of this precious substance exploded a spark in me so I would look outside of my classroom window and daydream. This was the beginning of my meditation, which was using my imagination.

In my school in Ghana, when we went back after lunch break, we were made to put our heads on the table and were forced to sleep in the hot scorching sun so it was not difficult for me to exercise this practice in England especially under a cold climate which invited a cool nap. But this feeling sterned from negativity, trying to escape unnecessary conversations. I was homesick. Although I loved England with all my heart, it lacked the divine essence I was so used to. So, I would shut myself off in school, not so much disrespectfully but a polite way by being very quiet as to say leave me alone. I was going through a personal issue that I alone understood. I would thank God for the privileges I had been blessed with but I particularly felt sorry for loved ones I had left behind in Ghana. I wished they were here to enjoy some of the benefits of England. The thought of this made me sad in school every day. It was almost depressing, so I would say little.

As this task developed into serious consciousness, it transformed into meditation as I looked outside in the snow and the song that always came to my mind was ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’. I would visualise myself on top of the world and consciously go within. This was age fifteen. My class teacher noticed my silence and asked me why I didn’t mix with the others. Although I didn’t tell her this, I had heard some of the pupils say ‘don’t be silly, Miss’. No way you could say that to a teacher in Ghana and get away with it.

I wrote an essay in our English lesson one day and mentioned the word ‘blacksmith’. Miss Hopkins, my class teacher, persisted to know why I used that word. The next art lesson, Mrs Woods presented me with a book to pick a picture to draw. I cannot recall or remember the book but the picture I chose was Ramses II. I did not know anything about Egyptology at this stage, what Master Yartey told us about our ancestors was not on my mind at the time. Today I ask myself why on earth I chose a picture of Ramses to draw. I am taking you, the reader, through this walk for a reason; to create a picture of why I had to produce this work.

Apart from school, life in Britain was good but there remained one obstacle: racism. Although I didn’t escape it, I coped reasonably well. Besides football, my other passion was going to sessions or Blues as they were known amongst the British Black youths of that age. This particular session I am referring to, up to this day I cannot locate the area it was held but it was local. A good guess would be around the Clapham area.

There were no mobile phones in those days and not every household had a phone either. Black entertainments were hardly advertised so when there was a session it was passed on from mouth to ears in the streets. But for this particular session, we went in a car so a friend invited me. This would be around 1979/80. At this session, I heard the song ‘I Have a Dream’ for the first time. In those days when I jumped on the dancefloor, I danced forever. I deeply enjoy music and dancing. On this particular day, I stood there meditating because the rhythm and the lyrics hit me and I knew that one day I would own that tune.

Although I was swimming in life’s pool, there still remained that spiritual part of me that I couldn’t escape. I started a family and worked on the buses. Consciously, I was getting spiritually strong. I had read the entire Bible, I had rediscovered Orion, I saw a shooting star for the first time and this assured me that I was on the right path. I began searching thoroughly. I got deeper into Egyptology and later I studied with the Nation of Islam and The Holy Tabernacle which come under Amon.

One day, on the Medway Bridge in Rochester, driving home from work, I saw the clouds in the sky turn into a shape of a dog. Was I dreaming or was I visualising this? What did this mean? I wondered. A couple of days later, I had a vivid vision. This time I could see these two beings outside of my boys’ window and I didn’t sleep in that room. I could identify with these beings because they were humanoids. The only thing was their eyes were bigger. They were not from planet Earth and they were tall and black in complexion. They looked so divine I knew instantly I was looking at some elders.

Later on, I learned and grew bigger in spirit and understood they came from Rizq and indeed they were the elders who started the whole show in collaboration with beings from Sirius. But the most astonishing thing about this event was that I could sense a third person. I could see through the eyes of this hidden being. But I think I could see his two eyes bouncing, not very fast and nothing was said they were just present and I felt a great energy. At this stage in time, I knew that I was on a special quest.

It was an ordinary Saturday afternoon about thirty minutes into a football match. I ran towards the line to stop the ball from going off the pitch. No one was tackling me but all of a sudden, I felt this snap in my left ankle. Straight away, I knew it was serious so I leapt off the pitch. I looked up to the sky and it seemed like it had dropped nearer to Earth. None of the players thought anything of it because there was no one on me. The pain was so intense I went to the hospital the following day and they decided to put a plaster on my whole left leg. I had torn a ligament so the foot had to be a certain degree in a plaster to heal the ankle. The physiotherapist asked me if I was a professional footballer because ordinary people didn’t get this type of injury.

I have never felt suicidal in my life but on this night, the pain was so intense I could not sleep. At this stage, my marriage was on the rocks but my wife came to my aid. My wife and children were upstairs in bed but I could not climb the stairs the first night so I stayed downstairs. I was so much in pain I could not get to sleep. It never occurred to me a painkiller could do the trick. I got up, went to the kitchen and picked up a knife. No, not to kill myself but to cut off the plaster. It was not successful. By now, I was getting agitated and emotionally stressed.

I prayed and prayed and prayed. I called on Jesus, you name it I used every trick in the book to get some harmony but I couldn’t get comfortable. Then I started thinking about the slave ships. The pregnant women chained onboard a ship with little room. Could not move from side to side. The six-month voyage lying in that same position. The faeces, the pain. All these souls cramped in the belly of the whale. The more I visualised these slaves, the more I said to myself my ordeal was nothing compared to theirs. It was through these pains that I wrote most of the topics on slavery. I must only have had about forty-five minutes of sleep that night. In the morning, my wife took me back to the hospital to take the plaster off because I couldn’t bear the pain.

The physio tried to talk me out of it but I wasn’t having it. I was moved to another area and as I sat watching the news, they wheeled this old lady passed us, and the physio pointed to her and said she would have wished to be in my position. Upon hearing this, like a miracle, all the pain disappeared. This time the Bosnian War was on and as we watched all the corpses in a truck being carried away, straight away I felt a big sigh of relief. For the six weeks that followed, I never felt a single twinge of pain.

My marriage was failing but my spiritual strength grew stronger and stronger as each day passed and then miraculously I was shown the heka in a dream one day. For years I did not understand seeing the thigh. All my life I could not say it. It wouldn’t come out, then all of a sudden, I could say it: ‘I am.’

‘I am what I am.’ Now this was significant. This was a big deal. From here on, I was shown many signs. Then one night, I found myself in the Kwame Nkrumah Circle in Accra. The atmosphere was like a sunset in colour: orange-yellow. Most of the places I have been shown always have this colour. What am I doing here? I wondered. Then I heard a telephone on the road side ringing and the tone I dubbed the Cry of Isis. The ringing tone was that of a woman crying desperately for something she had lost. Well, at least that was how I perceived it. The tone seemed sad yet there was joy in it.

The sound was so unique. I had never heard anything like that before on Earth so I knew this was divine. This tune lasted in my memories for over a decade and I always wondered about it. I could hum it; the words didn’t matter but I knew the rhythm. A melancholy voice set in a drama. Within this song, I could sense joy, pain, agony, grace which could heal the dead. For over a decade, I wondered about the significance of that vision and especially the Cry of Isis thrilled me. I could never tell anybody about this because they would not understand. The words and tune were unique to planet Earth.

As a result of studying with the Nation of Islam for a period of about fifteen years, I fasted every Christmas Day. Fasting was invested in me from