“We are spiritual beings contained within a physical backyard of the senses.  We are here to action  the individual burden of cosmic responsibility to ensure the survival of our freedom ofconsciousness and the powers of free will…”    Cooper Wheeler  New York July 18, 2003

When I think back to my earliest memory of growing up in America in the 50’s, I have the fondest memories of climbing trees.   My neighborhood was a pristine heritage of forests and wildlife.   A golf course bordered our neighborhood and a watershed reservoir completed the haven of my imagination.      My neighborhood childhood friend Paul and his buddy Bliss  had the dream of building a tree-fort in Paul’s highest tree in his backyard.   The ladder was a studded rack of  wood slats nailed into the 100 foot tree.  Near the canopy was the platform.   Wood planks andnails littered the area around the tree and the backyard shack.

“Looks like a tree house, Paul” I told him.   I  was  twelve years old and felt fearless to get up there and see the view.   

“Cooper.  Why don’t you go up and try it out. You are the right size and weight.  Lighter than us, right Bliss?” Paul yelled out.  Paul and Bliss were sons of  prominent doctors.  They were tough cocky youths who loved to blow things up and play around with design.  The year was 1966 andlife was good and predictable.   I  managed to get my bulky chubbiness up to the first step and found myself  up 100 feet above ground.   It looked great from there. 

“Cooper. Go. Check it out. Don’t be afraid.” Bliss yelled out.  They looked rather small from up that high.   I moved very slowly step-by-step.  Moments later the sound of breaking wood and squeaky sounds of nails coming up surrounded me in a cloud of debris as I fell to earth.

I hit with a thud, with all the wind knocked out of me.   I couldn’t breath.  The muscles were locked in place.   I looked up seeing Paul and Bliss looking down at me yelling:

“Breath! Cooper Breath!”

They lifted me up and dragged me to the back porch where I was received by Paul’s  mother, the doting and corpulent mum with apron and the thick glasses and the big boobs and the smell of  apple pie cooking.      I was forever on the edge and loving every minute of it.     

My parents survived the terrible trauma of wars.  My father in the B-29 squadrons over the Pacific and my mother struggling to out-live her time in a Nazi concentration camp at 15 years old. Their union came in a time of uneasy peace, but they established their dream in an industrialtown in Connecticut.    I would become the vessel of their pain and suffering they had witnessed. 

I was very close to books and marveled at their library.  Books on mysteries, history, war and art from Europe to Asia were in my hands by the age of ten.   With book titles like “God is my co-pilot”  and “Europa in Limbo” , “The Phantom Rickshaw” and books on existentialism byCamus and Satre  all added to my over zealous imagination.  

I grew up studying ethnography and world religions believing  the greatest  story would have to be my own making.    I grew up witnessing from the end of  World War II,  how  my generation began witnessing  the union of occult lands whose leaders chose to harvest the human resources through war, pestilence and greed.   In contrast from within our consciousness there emerged  the science of the soul to further demonstrate that humanity was interconnected with some intelligence greater thanour own.   Religions I would learn were the fodder of the powers-that-be who were working for years to hold the key to immortality.   But as I saw it, the key was to the bottomless pit.  The key was the guard dog to the gate of hell. 

It took every bit of 20 years for me to credit my investigation with the divine attributes that this story presents.  The  scribings  present the characters and their cosmic  vision quest  as time approaches the state of the Quickening.   One of the characters David places his entire existence onthe fact that humanity would face a new purpose he called “the Science of a New Truth”.

The leading lady  Lady Pye sought to postpone her appointment with destiny  seeking plausible deniability of her years leading a crusade to free the human mind of  ignorance of  ‘why we are here’ and who are gods really are.   It was her decision to postpone entering the secret tomb for 23 years.  Time was of the essence.  Each year the team looked at the calendar as it approached the day to meet again.  I  had little time as the scribe to assemble the history of the mission to reveal the truth to the second coming, and all the bull that everyone of the 21st century believed in.

Some readers search for books that discuss the principles of truth in history and in human merits. Some readers allow their imagination to join with an author’s quest.   Here is a story about the importance of  who controls the translation of  meaning in  ancient records and who is allowed to connect the dots to resurrect a fragment of  missing history.   The spiritual activities of the West and the East were not aligned.   They had been once unified under the Order of  the Universalists, the Order of  the Eye of Horus.   Within the last  13,000 years the higher order of  spiritual cognitionwas interrupted by another legion.   The order of all secret societies before Socrates was designed to safeguard the covenant established by an intelligence that was written like a lotus flower, to unfold all at once in the eyes of  the beholder.   

One of the oldest positions in discussing truth, reality and the why the ‘Name of God” was so  important  is to remember what had happened when  a ‘common sense’ of knowing the Gods was replaced by a ‘common knowledge’ of  knowing who are gods are.    I  stumbled upon the sacred means of  facing reality, that the Egyptians called  “she who faces her lord”  a reference to the placement of the feather of Truth of Maat at the helm of the sun-boat of Ra.   Within a nearly forgotten text of the Scotts and the Gaels called the Kolbrin,  an historic document  compiled by the “Black”  Monks of Scotland a much older  history  carefully and poetically documents over 17,000 years of  collective memories.    Here was the secret archives of the Western European Mystery Tradition. 

The Kolbrin was written in old Gaelic and presented the program of changes that were in store for  my generation.   The code of the text was based on a knowledge system  preserved as Teanga,  a linguistic synthesis of  art and science.  To administer knowledge there had to be three properties for it to represent truth:  a geometric, arithmetic and mundane physical  harmonics that stored the foundation for living life truthfully.

In Gaelic the same perception that was shared by the Egyptians was termed:

“RUS MHOR,  RUS MEA IN, RUS  BHE  AG” .  Here were 3 faces: a large face: Father Sun, a middle face: of  the Mother Earth, and a smaller face: the  Son；all revealing the face of the Great Spirit in its triune form for communication—rational, sensual, reasoningsee plate  24  Pyramids at Giza). 

I had learned that one secret society was prepared to protect  Earth and service it’s inhabitants  with a guiding measure to overcome the ensuing disasters.  There was a time when priests and priestesses  were known as the Creatrix to discern features in the stars to know when the return of Adam as the Christ was due.   The Creatrix was a subset of  the Melchezideks, the royal hierarchy of  spiritual guardians whose delegation had arrived here on Earth  28,000 years before present. 

With the reincarnation of Adam Bara, he was accompanied by his closest allies who had to force the hand of history in the presence of the “Science of a New Truth”.  Reserved for a small percentage of the genetic code was a place for the advancement of  awareness and consciousness.   Some call it the God-gene.  Others call it the rhapsody of spiritual cognitionthe  Shekinah.   I call it cosmic intent. 

It was before my 17th birthday that I made my first discovery of the other realms  that were to be called ‘dimensions’.     When a planet like Earth moves from one realm of awareness or conscious-ness to another, the transformation process was thought to be linked to the precession, the movement of the  background position of the stars.   This story is contained within 5 precessionary  periods called  “the time of the 5 sons” that began 13,000 years ago.   We are now leaving behind the frenzy of the Fourth Sun found in the Age of Pisces.  Here was a time for humanity to evolve from a condition called  ‘the furrow of death and belief’  into a bold new time of  the Fifth Sun, Aquarius, Enos: the time when belief turns into knowing.     

“My  story is every part of the Wars on Heaven and on Earth.   The work became a hybrid of my adventure with that of the Pyramid Lady and my field research into megalithic science.  We decided  to work together as a team; it was as if  my right eye needed to know what the left eye had seen and felt 23 years ago.    We worked together piecing together a set of lost threads that belonged to a lost living story of  why  we are here on Earth and what our mission was all about.     The cosmic agenda rides on the  placement of our blue planet in a solar system inside a galaxy where up is Virgo and down is Sculptor.  

I always wanted to travel to the stars.   For me travel was about looking for forgotten  time capsules.  Here was the confluence of the rhythms in the landscape and the empowerment of the Pyramid Lady in March 1982 when the planets aligned.  

None of these actions had yet to change the rising tide of wickedness in the world.   In fact it was worse than ever.   Somewhere in time, in the time of Abraham after closing the Age of  Taurus, did the Age of  Aries leave mankind vulnerable, uncertain and self-important to handle the greater burden that  I  have termed the burden of cosmic responsibility.  As my father once said:  “we live in a time of non-Euclidean math”, which means mankind chooses what it wants to believe. 

Lover’s may have scorned me, friend’s may have called me cartoon-like, magical, and cosmic but  the suspense of the mysteries of the cosmos came shining through.  My journey was that of a cosmic chef.   For me to connect with other worlds, the kitchen became the portal of lost histories. The time had come to  reach  back into my treasure trove of memory and reassess where  I  had left off from my last incarnation.    In 1860 I had left England and arrived in America to make my way into the world of  the new  Atlantis.   I was a businessman dressed in suit and bowler hat.   Educated at Eaton and with bloodlines that went back into Sephardic Italy and Spain, I began my journey to the new Babylon.    I  found myself  in a stage-coach ride out to Cincinnati Ohio, when our ride was ambushed by outlaws.   My precious suitcase filled with clues and artifacts to my journey were stolen and most likely sold off.    Without  any money I made my way to Nevada and set up a trading  company with tea companies of the Far East.   But I digress. 

My parents had a vision within the nuclear kernel of a new world.   They were survivors of a brutal time and rewarded themselves with joy and satisfaction.   Their modern Frank LloydWright designed home, a split level ranch replete with 60 foot high granite fireplace and one acre of  tree-filled land was their castle.  They loved German Shepherds and named them all  Ito.  

I entered into the  American education system arriving in the newest car of the day, a Ford Thunderbird and the enthusiasm of  a  fresh baked birthday cake.  I fed into their hip lifestyle.  The house filled with the sounds of a Marantz  entertainment system  with big band, jazz, Nina Simone, Oscar Peterson  and  adult comedy records, all making my world  a  nest for  personal growth and development.  Our gardens were designed with perfect  egui and shibui, the Japanese form of Feng Shui.   Dogwood, cherry , cedar , mulberry and birch trees offered great,  humble reminders we held onto the beauty of nature and it’s restorative powers.   My parents treated life with respect.  

But somehow with all this I  missed something.   My brother grew into a successful businessman and I became something that was a cross between artist and shaman, lover and adventurer, writer and worthy son.  To some friends I was a renaissance man.   But as the firstborn son in a Jewish European family, I “belonged to God”.    I needed to align myself with what the ancients at Hathor called ‘the Path of the True Priest’ and enter into a life  of truthful consciousness one more time again.   

Somewhere I had digressed in the last lifetime or perhaps in the one before.   These delays contributed  to a time of  unrivaled darkness on Earth, a stockpile of  pain and confusion.   What ever had happened, I  had to humble my  conduct and issue life’s pleasures carefully.   I was after all the keeper of a great fruit orchard planted sideways to the Sun.    

In the town that I was born a great wonderful orchard grew.  Located in the foothills protecting  a reservoir surrounded by rocky cliffs and caves,  it had the appropriate name  Shuttlemeadow.  I used to love to fossick and walk the forests and cliffs  when I was old enough to wander  outside of  our neighborhood.   A short bicycle ride or walk of about 12 minutes would  get me to the watershed area.   It was around the time I became a boy scout as well and learned the craft of  orientation with compass and map and how to survive in the outdoors.  This experience gave me great pleasure as my dad too was a great navigator and survivor of war.   He held secret a notion that  I would too make a great  soldier and military leader.   My brother and I knew that our parents both Aries kept their deepest and darkest feelings to themselves.   They were masters of  the “I AM”  and presided over their world with great self-control and wisdoms of humor and sternness.  

The shadows of our Jewish tradition remained alive however.  Usually the decision was for the kids and this liberal application of what is God, became the balm for the Jewish American upbringing.  My brother and I kept up with the traditions for sometime until I wason my quest for the miraculous.  

Brother Keith and I knew the parable,  Father was an atheist, who said “God doesn’t exist! Where? How?  We are the Gods in the making. We have the intel to produce our own vision of creation: here is the only luxury of our  world next to the animals.”   Mother was the agnostic even as a survivor of Nazi Europe she proclaimed, ”You can never know God.  The more you seek, the more you find  out it all remains always outside the reach of our world”.   And this was exactly the pointThe World as the past 3 generations could assess was dammed up by reason, fear and obligation.  My concern was how to manifest more experience outside the box of our senses.   

One day when I was exploring the cliffs inside the light forest of trees that disguised these rocks from the roadside below,  I found a cave.  A small crevice had opened and I went inside.  It had small crawl space and my flashlight revealed another cavity behind it.  I didn’t feel fear but only the cool dampness that kept out the dry summer sun.   Everything  then in the 50’s and 60’s was unspoiled from pollution, acid rain and other imbalances in nature that was in store for us all.   As  I  climbed down the cliff walk,  I saw a big black snake sunning itself on a rock. 

At the time I didn’t know or believe in omens, but recalled my dream the night before.  I  had walked around the black coiled serpent and found that it was guarding a  sunken chamber that disappeared into the mountainside.  I just observed this wonderful creature and kept going wishing to return to this place again at another time.    I wished to explore more of the back woods up on the cliffs but without a map I was uncertain.   Dad was happy to learn of my curiosity in orienteering in the woods, so he brought home a  topo map and compass and my study of maps was underway.    A year later I was a bonafide boy scout and requested an exploration of this area with my scoutmaster who agreed.    

I grew up with guns around the house. Holstered weapons, rifles for hunting and my mother’s very  own collection of  swords and weapons from Asia and Africa.   My father’s trophy hunting of deer greeted us from time to time after a good hunting trip in New Hampshire.  A deer tied to the  station wagon was the prize of the day.  Dad was a bold hunter, polo player and clothing merchant.  He lived out his pride with hunting and raising a family with little worries or fears.  

Our kitchen was a wondrous place.  My mom was a brilliant cook whose Czech/Hungarian background and love of Gourmet Magazine, new recipes, and beautiful desserts, gave us all the energy to conquer our greatest dreams and overcome our nightmares. The life force in our home was strongest in the kitchen.   My parents had designed the perfect life for  themselves.   My parents  loved entertaining and both smoked Winston.    I   remember our years trying to stop them from smoking.   In the early  60’s   we heard that smoking was bad for the health, so we used to set small fire-cracker charges in them and watch the cigarette explode.  Yes they were mad, but it presented them with a choice.   Needless to say, they didn’t give up smoking.

Dad had also a  marvelous collection of sports cars over the years.  From Triumphs, to Austin Healey, to advanced sporty English tour racing cars.   From time to time I would snoop through my dad’s chest of  drawers to find artifacts of  war (a set of  teeth on a string!), coins, foreign money, bullet casings, rings, tie clips.  It was very stimulating then to enjoy his simple collection of stuff.  

And I wanted to have stuff too.  Dad began buying me watches.  But the strangest thing would  happen.  They’d disappear.   I never knew why I had been given 3 watches and all 3 disappeared.  My dad didn’t know  what  to make of it, so he stopped giving me watches and moved on to more interesting things.   A CB/Ham Station Radio from Radio Shack was our first joint endeavor that we built together from instructions and solder.  Here was the doorway to new worlds.   

It was my 15th birthday that life began to change me.  On a family trip to Acapulco I managed to attract a young prep-school girl named Nola into having sex on the plane and then again in the hotel.   My parents were very approving of  this healthy aspect of  male development. A year earlier, we were in Jamaica at the Playboy Club, and that was an eye-opening experience as well. 

Around that time, my dad was beginning to suffer from ulcers and developed symptoms of MS, that would become his  bane for the rest of his life.  But we loved him and rallied around him from walking canes days, to wheel-chair bound days.  We stood by him.  

In the Fall of 1969, I was 16 and my life would take an unexpected turn.  I enjoyed listening the  Radio Shack CB World Radio at night.   Every night the sound of morse code that criss-crossed the world in unmusical like ways, kept my attention.   I would sweep to other music stations and fall asleep to the sounds of the music of the 50’s.  It was of a rock and blues variety.  “Green Grass on my window…” and “Wouldn’t you like to ride in my beautiful balloon..”  “I found my thrill, on Blueberry Hill”.  All those images wallpapered my inner world.    But the reception wasn’t good enough.  So I got some copper wire and measured enough to wrap around my favorite oak tree outside my bedroom window and secured it to the house.   I then linked that to the radio through the window.  This amplified the reception greatly.   

As much as my mom controlled the conditions in my upbringing, she couldn’t control a much deeper feeling I had with a new dimension within me.    During that year I began studying   Egyptology, Mayan culture and the building of  mounds and  pyramids.   I didn’t know it then but this strong aspect of  my imagination and heart felt desire would lead me into one of the greatest studies well beyond the agenda of current archaeology.   

I  remember the day as it happened.   It was a Wednesday November 22nd  and  I was taking the garbage cans up from the bottom of the driveway  that was pitched very steep.   The leaves were now brown and had fallen off the trees.  Our seasonal assignment was the ritual of leaf raking, a practice known to all new Englanders.   The beautiful tessellated stone wall was stained with a bright green moss and Paper Birch tree hanging over it.   For me it served  as another reminder of  the ancient stone designs known in other parts of the world.    As I returned to the top of the driveway, I saw it. 

Our property was divided into an upper  area and lower area.  Where I saw the spinning lights in the sky was very close to the house, below tree top level and near the Japanese designed fence my dad put up a few years earlier.   A great oak tree was positioned just to the left of the craft that began showing it’s small red lights in a semi-circular pattern.  The pattern of  six lights moved slowly in an arc.  1-2-3-4-5-6 and repeated.  I gently put down the cans and without thinking sprinted to the fence.  The faster I moved the faster did the lights move.  A fine fog began to appear around the craft and it took shape into a silvery disc.   As I approached the Oak and the Cherry Tree to the right it vanished upwards leaving behind a puff of swirling fog.   I looked up into the night sky and saw only fog and cloud.  It was up there somewhere.   

I sprinted into the house and yelled out:  “ Mom , Dad!  You won’t believe what I just saw!” Excitedly I ran into the den where they were watching TV.  The den was their library and smoking  room.   They heard my story.  My dad grinned and shook his head.  

My mom said dryly: “Cooper, it was probably the Aurora Borealis..” 

8 months would pass when I suddenly one day recalled in a flashback another event that took place in what I knew was a related part of this mystery.  In  August the year before my brother and I had gone to bed as usual.  In the middle of the night, I recall being taken out of my bedroom window into a space craft over the house.  I stood on the backyard grass and a beam of white light bathed me into a frozen gel.  I was brought aboard a small circular craft.  When the beam was taken off me,  I was free to walk around.   I did notice 2 small creatures with large heads and largess eyes navigating the craft from a raised platform near the center of the hull.  They spoke to me in telepathic  tones saying: “We will not hurt you. We can talk using our minds” .  I moved over to a panel of lights and as I walked passed they turned colors from yellow to orange.  

A window view allowed me to see the Earth as we accelerated into space.  The last thing I remember was seeing a large white sphere resembling the moon approaching. Then I blacked out and fell to the ground.   These memories left a strong impression in my mind and in my perception of what my mind really was.  

As you read this story you will find out why all this had to happen.  I had taken an oath with the cosmos, it was a process the ancients called “Of It, It Is”: “Si—Sa”, in Gaelic.  Lady Pye, the Pyramid Lady and  I  reunited to tell this story once and for all.   We decided to dedicate  this work to the ancestors who were part of this great legacy.   The embodiment of all knowable and spiritual contacts with our senses  are contained in the trunk of the World Tree.  And it is here that I  became a part of this greater organism of cosmological  story telling known also as the original Ark of the Covenant.  The modern kaleidoscope was the telescope.   

The backyard telescope was a familiar site.   Dad and I located Saturn one night telling me the wonder of the great rings that swirled around it. I looked into the tube then into space, then  into the tube and back to dad.  It was a marvelous moment together.   I  was  given little choice in  becoming the Regulator for the Tree of Life.   The forces behind the true cosmology of  heaven and earth were about to be extinguished by the new followers of the Shemsu Hor.  These souls were part Jews, part Israelites, part Chaldean occultists who once practiced the Way of the Two Horizons initiated by Horus in Egypt  but who now  misrepresented  the science of cosmologyas astrology and blood rituals.   There was a time when the balance existed between the science of the  day and the order of the universe.  The world was in a divine state of  existence piloted by  masterful teachers  who kept this steady-state tuned to a greater order.   Before there were computers, the order of the universe was stored in the way of cosmogenesis. 

In  a mere 5200 years the entire order of  the universe deciphered as cosmogenesis was lost and submitted to the Roman plan to further convert these axioms into a game of chance.  Jesus had his raiment before his crucifixion torn to pieces by the Roman garrison who played a game of chance with it.   The Romans took this form of  pseudo-science from an earlier rendition of the ancient knowledge of  cosmogenesis from the Greeks, who emotionalized the constructs of  the true path of wisdom known in the temples of the true priest of Solon in Egypt.   

Only a memory in stone will survive, until a time when  the 1st of Aries no longer marks the vernal equinox.   It was foretold, how Lazarus a descendent of Adam would return during the final days and heal the Tree of Life  so we could harvest  the manna of heaven once again.   23 years had passed since it all began.   I heard the call to rally the clan back together again.  It was a cosmic feel, a déjà vu, another sleepless night.  A new threshold was ready to cross when I made that fateful call to Lady Pye. 

We made a pact to not connect again until 23 years had passed.  By then we would know what to do about our well-kept secret.  Everyone in our team was nearly asleep in forgetfulness. 

“Lady Pye! It’s Cooper.  How are you?” Cooper began with a sense of relief. 

“Cooper! Ah-ah-ah!. 23 years have passed. Can you believe it!?” her words and tones hadn’t changed 

“It’s wonderful to hear your voice again. So how are you?” Cooper spoke in relaxed tones. 

“Truthfully Coop, I’m a bit rusty.  Everything seems cosmically quiet.  No news at this moment. 

I don’t know where David is either?" 

“Funny thing you mention David.  You know I heard this story out of Chinatown…” Cooper  began.