Book One: Journey to Nowhere

A Seed of Life in the Construct of the Matrix

I give thanks to my Teachers and those Beacons of Light, that I have Followed

Welcome to the Construct

Who we truly are and from where we all came I do not know. From my perspective, the only way for this to change, is to be brave enough to shine in our own light and truth, being realized to ourselves and be real towards each other. If we resist the flow of change, this will be a hard ride. Following the flow, we will just change with it, adapting to what ever comes next. I may be a pathfinder, seer or way-shower of today, yet you came to this writing in your own search and I am truly honored to serve you the Way-finder in sharing my story, knowing that tomorrow you might serve my journey in sharing yours. My own journey to this arrival moment has been both hard and long, given me many opportunities to give up on my own quest and especially given me many reasons to lose faith in human kind. Yet, for some reason I am still here, writing to the deaf, speaking to the blind and sharing what I have with those open to receive. Today I see a world awakening and the light of a new dawn on the horizon, knowing that this is why I came and why I will continue to pour unconditional love into this world, until the moment my ticket expires.

But for now, this is my story of how I got sucked into this great wave of change. What really happened and when it all started, I do not know for sure. But something huge happened and I reacted strongly. Perhaps all this would make more sense to you, if I Tell it from the beginning.

The Beginning

I saw first light on this Planet in Copenhagen, Denmark, 16:05 on the third of January in 1971, (12.17.17.7.12 According to the Mayan Calender). Being the first-born, I had to pave the way. My first given name was Ramses, as my labor to get me into this world had given me a cone-shaped head. It must have settled into a normal shape, and for some unknown reason my name became Johannes. The first 4 years are really nonexistent in my memory. Having been told that I went to a yoga camp with my father for about a month, chatting with the wise Guru in eye-level as just a child would do, really makes sense in how I talk to people, to this present day. For what I have been told all was good and happy in the first years, but it was also the years when it all changed. Something changed dramatically and it all started falling to pieces. It has been a challenge to reconstruct my childhood, since many scenes was edited out due to emotional stress or trauma.

In 2009 I had a sudden urge to visit one of my mothers oldest friends, not knowing why, just knowing that it was something I had to do. She told me the "onlookers" story of my childhood, without any adult-child censorship. One episode especially made pieces fall into place, as she told me that my mom had called her crying, asking for help. When she arrived about an hour later, she found me, the two year old, trying to take care of a crying mother and a screaming brother. Working the best I could to take away their sadness, a bit stressed because I did not know how. There were many episodes like this during my first years, mostly since my father was seldom there, and when he was, he fled to "visit friends" whenever challenges arrived. My mom was

now alone with 3 very different children and was pressed to her limits (my childish observations). My sister was and is best described as a me-me-me type of person and my brother had some deep emotional pains, so I stopped asking for anything. Mostly because the only thing I did not want to lose in this world, was my mom. She was the only one I trusted, mostly because her love was and is without condition. My mothers friend also told me, that my mother had some deep childhood abuse themes going on and for a long time suffered suicidal tendencies, so somehow my fears did not come out of thin air. When I talked about this with my mother, she told me "YES, and you kids kept me going". When I look back, my father was not there. Somehow I only remember him being on visit for a day or two. But at that time I really did not think much of it as we had plenty of fun playing with my Mothers brothers. For what I know my father was sailing the seven seas and being with him out at sea during a rough storm is really all I remember clearly, as it was so much fun being tossed around by Mother Nature.

Emotional shutdown
There were so many things happening that the adults did not speak openly about. I could clearly feel that some storm was brewing, so much frustration, anger and sadness in the air. Yet I could do nothing about it, even though I tried to figure out what was happening. I remember being irritated when my granddad started to speak English to my mother, when talking adultstuff. I could somehow feel what they were talking about, but when I asked, they were saying something very different than what they radiated. School was an interesting experience. Somehow I had the feeling of entering the wrong class since even though they looked the same as me they all felt so alien. After listening carefully for the first 20 minutes or so, my consciousness started to wander or rather wonder about what was important to me. Somehow my little body needed a stretch and started to move a bit around. Getting too noisy for the adult, I was asked to leave the classroom. Thank you for noticing, I really needed this break. Once outside the door I noticed the playground, my favorite place. The little monkey was free to play. Well, bliss of that moment changed as the teacher came out to tell me that the break was over. Or rather trying to catch the little agile monkey while saying something about that I was not supposed to wander away from right outside the door. I let myself get caught, when her voice started to sound stressful and coming in a high pitch. No wonder, as she was too big to climb all the things build for kid-size beings. I could feel her frustration, yet she did not express it in a way that I really understood, especially the why I was supposed to just sit outside the door waiting when my body screamed MOOOVE. It was an innocent first confrontation between me and the authorities. Somehow I never got to figure out; all that telling

me what to do, with no more reasoning than just because I say so or these are the rules, obey. It might be, that an explanation of why this and that would have helped, but getting no usable help from the adults, I started to explore the limits. With one limit in mind; respecting other beings, by not crossing their personal limits, more than they allowed me to do. I began to study people and started developing a sense of where they were in their emotions. Since my father gave me an early and hard lesson in boys dont cry, things started to get complicated as I was not allowed to express my own feelings. Yet this made it much easier understanding, why other people had such difficulties in expressing their own.

The first odd journey

My father wanted to start all over and had got the idea of the whole family moving to England. Even though I had just started in first grade, I really wanted to be with my father, really wanted to get to know him and really didnt want to go to school. So somehow I managed to go with him in search of the house. The first part of the journey was absolutely wonderful, a real adventure with my dad. We stayed some time in Wales and it was wonderful to experience another culture, tasting their foods and listening to their language. We met many interesting people and found the house my father was looking for in a small village. I really loved it and so did my dad. One evening all somehow changed, he felt very different. Afterward I have been told that it was because my mother had said in non-negotiable terms that she did not want to live alone with 3 kids, in a foreign country, far away from her family and friends. The rest of the journey is in detail, like a distant haze. I only remember that I started counting

white lines on the road, writing it all down in my notebook. I remember reaching 14000 something, when my dad got kind of lost in a roundabout. It made me give up on ever finding my way back home again. I followed him like a shadow, not wanting to get lost and be alone in a place so far from all I knew. I spent a lot of time just waiting for him to return from some place, with the only comfort of him telling me, I will be back soon. One night he came back to the hotel, feeling really upset and very nervous, yet his only words were we have to go, pack up, quickly. We drove really fast through the night and I remember asking him about what happened when we finally stopped. He had upset some people from some secret order and now feared for his life. His fear felt really real and I asked what I could do to help. I was to be the lookout, spotting things that looked out of place and look for different types of dark cars. In the race to get back home, we stayed in small hotels and often I found myself and father sleeping on the floor right under the window. We finally arrived at the harbor, but we would have to wait all night before our ferry would sail. My father told me to wait in the car and honk the horn if they showed up. I was a very long night and being only 6 my eyes had a hard time staying open. I found my fathers pocketknife in the glove compartment and cut my hand every time I got too close to dozing off. At first light we left England behind and I was told that my mother would meet us in Holland really soon. Later that evening, I remember sitting in this hotel bar, this beautiful waitress looking me into the eyes asking me what I wanted. I looked at my father and asked what she was saying, he told me and I looked at her again... I was so close to start crying, telling her the truth, that I just wanted to feel secure, having a hug, and most of all having my mother. But I could not speak the language this Angel without wings spoke, my father would have to translate... So I looked at my

father and told him to tell her that I would have the same he was drinking. Her beautiful eyes looked into mine for what felt like an eternity, in disbelief. My father said something that snapped her out of our connection. Soon after I shared an odd moment with my father, a glass of whiskey in one hand, and a lit filter-less cigarette in the other. It was a short moment of relief, as my father seemed a bit annoyed that the waitress was more interested in communicating with me than flirting with my father. Two glasses and two cigarettes later the party ended and we went back to our room. That night I remember having slept heavily as I woke on the floor by someone knocking on the door. It was my mother and my granddad, coming to take me home.

Responsibility
Soon after this odd journey my mother filed for divorce and I sat alone outside the door in a hall filled with doors, when they settled tings at town hall. My fathers famous last words to me were; now you have to take care of the others, and that was the end of childhood in some odd way. It was a hard period of my father coming banging on the door, drunk in the middle of the night, wanting to see his kids. Remember one night; my mother opened the door because his banging and yelling was waking up all the neighbors. They were talking loudly in the kitchen, my mother saying he was waking up the kids and he had to go. As he went to my room to see me, my mother called the police. My father said this and that about my mother trying to keep him away from us, and even had called the police to enforce that commitment. Remember telling him, that coming this way, making all this drama in the middle of night, scared us all, as we were uncertain of what he would do. As I remember, the nightly visits stopped after that. It was a bit

difficult to really to get to know my father as he turned hard and bitter instead of just crying a river to get it out. It is difficult to write all this, wanting to give a good impression of my father, knowing that he had a rough time, growing hard from all the severe beatings his father had served him. Being the only child in the flock actually having stayed living with my father is perhaps the reason it was never hard for me, to forgive the many times he let us down by showing up really drunk at the moments in childhood, that really mattered to the child. Or at the many occasions where he wanted to help us doing homework but ended it in taunting us, telling how it was almost impossible to be this stupid. Well, he served me some fuel for my journey in keeping saying you are the most stupid kid on this planet, until I really believed him. It was not that I did not get it, at school. Normally I got it the first time and could not see any reason in the world to keep in the same loop. I was so bored that I started to look for something else to do, sometimes it was just impossible to sit still and I had to leave the class. I started to daydream and started drawing on any surface that looked like it needed a new color. It was only in fifth or sixth grade that we got a teacher really worth her pay. Wild red hair, intense and getting to the point. She told us from the beginning that if we had any intention of ever getting math, we would have to be strong in the basics, as it was the foundation for the rest. So shut up, listen carefully and studying hard to learn the rules by the numbers. Somehow I really never got bored in her classes. The other good memory was our religion and arts teacher, she was really good with kids. During religion classes she told us to just draw what came to mind as she read the bible out loud, something that made me remember it to this day, by being able to see the whole story. At art classes she just encouraged us to create what came to mind, kindly assisting us if our project were beyond our capabilities. The rest of the time I just tried not to stir

up to much trouble, as it felt like wasting the best years of my life sitting still, listening to some loop repeating itself over, over and over again. There were other layers to this school that got my attention, and much of my real education took place outside the classrooms. Seeing that the other kids were busy being just kids and the adults busy being adults, having all sorts of agendas they wanted me to blindly accept. I pulled on my cloak of silence, not saying a word of what I had set out to find. This could be the story of my life, a cloaked silent seeker, showing only what was necessary to go about my journey unnoticed and seeking what I needed to continue on my chosen path. These childhood years were really hard since there was not much guidance on other topics than how to spell or how it did add up, in the mathematical sense. If it had not been for my great curiosity for understanding these other beings, I would have gone home a long time ago. Even though some adults kept saying curiosity killed the cat quite often, it was all I had to go on, if I ever should be able to find what I was looking for. Yes, exploring gravity and how much the thin ice can carry, put me into a close relationship with death. Someone up there must have great love for me, as a small stick or some other thing to pull my self out of trouble just appeared out of noting when I needed it most. Perhaps this not being afraid of death has had me do all sorts of neck breaking stuff. Perhaps this not being afraid of what so many people fear, gave me the courage to stand up for what I felt was right, even though it often meant getting my self in the line of fire. Sometimes after such an encounter I would wonder why I did it, risking it all for someone else, the reply have always been because, I had to. Diving into my childhood to find some pearls that might serve another, then what I really see is the multiple layers of consciousness. On some levels I just go with intuition, on others I really

fight hard to get sucked into this world, finding the success in the ways of this world. Perhaps my father was right in saying that I'm the most stupid kid on this planet, because it did not really work for me, the shoe just did not fit. Being cloaked in silence of what really was on my mind was hard. Even though I had a father well versed in hermetic teachings and philosophy, all attempts to get him to share this ended in him telling me; that I was too stupid to understand it. On the other side it was really hard work for my mother to be alone with three very different kids. I was a bit afraid of my mother running out of love, or just giving in to the enormous load on her shoulders. This made me stop asking, made me stop expressing my needs.

Learning fast
On some levels I did just as the other boys did, learning about the elements of fire, water, earth and air. I found that my only sanctuary was in nature, where there is room enough for me to look for my own being and no one to tell me how to be or how to behave. Mother Nature gives her hard to miss lessons, ever willing to catch me when I studied gravity. No need to ask. A bit of trouble came, as my mother got a bit pressed. A brother having all sorts of unexplainable conditions, like secures that came like a thunderbolt in a clear sky. A sister that is most easily personified as a me-me-me-me person. My mother was better off by me not being there, adding to the load. Suicide and running off to who know where, was occupying my mind a lot in those days. Since all I really wanted to do was exploring the world and not bail out just because I could not find a solution, the solution found me. Bags packed and almost ready to go, my mother found my stash. Asking like the responsible mother she is, I had to answer the best I could. She was embracing me, telling me how difficult it sometimes is down here, but that I should give it a chance... Running off will not solve the problems you have, as you will most likely take them with you. So I tried to fit in for a while, tried to be socialized a bit... Moving in with my father, both to off-load my mother but also to get to know my father a little better, did not really work. It worked well for 2 or 3 days in the new school, my new class did welcome me, as well as the teachers. But when some big kid started to bully a boy from my class, it all changed. Seeing that my classmate was too small to handle it by himself and that the bully did not stop after being asked a few times to leave him alone, I walked in between. I tried to make him calm down by reason, but he just thought he had found a new prize victim. After working himself up by calling

me this and that, he went at me with a clumsy punch to the stomach. He looked a bit surprised when I just accepted his punch while throwing him onto a nearby coat hanger, and perhaps feeling greatly humiliated in front of his own class, hanging there unable to reach the ground. Perhaps it was my asking if he wanted more, that made him really committed on having more. He was so committed that he even invited his fiends to the hunt for my fair skin, and by so giving me plenty of challenges in the spaces between classes. We played this odd game for about a month or so, but it just kept escalating since I just could not bow to such a puny bully. He and his friends got me bruised a few times, but the adults only heard that my clothes was dirty because we had played a bit rough in school. I told my father the truth about being fighting at school, but that it was not more than I could handle myself. We talked about fighting. He told in his experience as a sailor; that these bullies seldom give up before either getting stopped or getting their way. Seeing that my only options were either to break him or give in to his domination, I asked if it was possible to move back to my mother. No matter how great an idiot, I had no need to break another boy's face, arms or legs for them to get their lesson. Destiny did not let me off that easy, as there were some great lessons in this for me as well. Being back in my old schoolyard, the hard challenges began to grow as I grew. Somehow I had the ability to just be there, when some big bully let his frustrations out on a smaller kid, having me by some autopilot walking in between. Even though I really did not want to be there, I sort of just woke up being there. Sometimes I had the skill of talking my way out of it, often I had to let them chase me around for some days for things to settle. But occasionally I had to fight my way out of it. Somehow all this felt natural like something I had done so many times before, I knew where I could win and when to run.

Every winter, when there was snow, all the big bullies were occupying the football field, where we were allowed to throw snowballs, without risking detention. But when all the other smaller kids and I got near the fence they grabbed us and stuffed our clothes with snow.. They got me one time, when I was just carried away by the sheer joy of playing in the snow. Lesson learned, after sitting a full day wet and freezing in school. Next year I kicked and punched my way out of this experience, giving them something to reconsider before taking this little 5th grader. I knew that they really wanted to retaliate by stuffing my clothes with snow. So to keep them happy, I walked out on that field in the last break of the day, when the snow was just right. Then they could have me without any resistance whatsoever. It took the top of their frustrations yet giving them very little satisfaction in their bullyism. A new boy arrived at the school and rumors of him training martial arts reached my ears, not really an issue, since I had no intentions of crossing his path. Somehow he must have had the intentions, a few days later, the noise of kids playing got too much for him. He yelled something after us and I turned with a So what? glare, it must really have pissed him off based on his reaction. The typical schoolyard brawl was about to start, no news in no adults being around, new thing was to be pitted against a kid knowing how to fight. He was very aggressive and beyond talk. It really looked like he had to prove himself to the big guys in the yard, and I was somehow the price trophy. His next punch was really hard, connecting well in my stomach. He had crossed the line and when he started to move in for the next, all time seemed to stop. This gave me plenty of time to get out of the way and into his throat. I sort of woke back into normal time when an adult grabbed me hard from behind, seeing myself sitting on the other guy with my fingers deep into his neck. His pride was hurt more that his body, as I did not hit him. I got my

detention for beating someone, yet the adults never asked what took place, before giving this time stealing punishment and I choose not to tell. It could all have ended there, but since he was 3 grades over me, he really took it personally. 2 days later, he approached me outside the school, pulled a knife and told me he would use it the next time. Today I wonder why I did not tell the adults, but it really never crossed my mind at that time. So I asked my mother if I could take self-defense classes. That was the beginning of a wonderful but strange journey.

New ways
After a couple of months, at the age of 11, I slammed my first adult to the floor, a 90+ Kg assistant instructor. Having no issues in sparring with the adults, I got invited to help our instructor train for his next black belt. It was fun to be thrown around for a couple of hours, two times a week, a good way for me to get to know the basics. If it had not been for destiny this fighting could and properly would be the course of my life. If we choose our career base upon what we are really good at, my life would properly have been short and violent. Seeing that all I was really good at was fighting others, my choice of profession pointed in the direction of the Danish equivalent of Navy SEALS. That little idea crashed just before it was about to unfold, as someone smashed my knee during training, making me unable to ever meet the requirements for selection. It was no fun at all, when my world came tumbling down, but step by step after that, showed me why this was not my road to travel. My first real cue came after seeing that high school was even more boring. I got a dishwasher job at a local army-camp. Seeing some drill-sergeant making the fat guy run more laps than the

others because he had to lose some weight, I clearly saw that I would not fit into this do as you are told world. At this moment in life I was living with my dad, mostly because I did not really fit with my mothers new husband. I was not really good at people giving me orders in a high pitch lieutenants voice, and we really pushed each others buttons back then. Having my father telling me how I was never to become anything, by flunking high school after only 6 months. I began to look for a more hands-on kind of trade. Starting at the basics in working with metal brought me the promise of apprenticeship, once I finished school. These were some really good years, being with someone who knew what they were doing. Even though I had some running into do as you are told, my standing firm on what was right got me in eyelevel really fast with the blacksmiths. During this stay at my fathers place, my curiosity towards religion, spirituality and philosophy really got sparked and fueled. It was a bit hard, since my fathers stanza on things was that, I just had to accept the Holy Scriptures and what the Masters had said. So a great discussion on what truth is really true started, in a sort of clash of the titans way. We went through all major religions, but it was the hermetic teachings that really fueled my fire... There were some layers I had to study first, something present in most scriptures, yet never explained.

Playing with magic

All religions seemed to warn about the dark side, but the followers of so called white religions did so many evil deeds, that I just had to see for my self what this darkness was. I studied what many call black magic, reading all I could find on the subject. My father did call me

all sorts of things as he thought I had converted to the darkness. These years were so emotional hard, that I kind of shut off my feeling and grew quite cold to this world. It did not take many years of study before a picture of the puzzle started to form. I could clearly understand the motives, on why some people got dragged towards this powerful darkness, as it spoke to human needs, greeds and ambition of wanting more power. Finding that this somehow did not appeal to me, I started on my way back towards the light. On that road I studied some of the gray areas between dark and light magic, seeing that magic is magic and seeing that it is your motives that give it color. On my journey out this darkness, the colorful Alistair Crowley crossed my path. One teaching sticks, you will keep on making the same mistakes, until the prize is too great for you to pay. Really making sense in this world, about to change, as this is somehow what it takes for the people to wake up and change their ways. Moving, what could be more fitting than for me to move towards the Golden Dawn. Studying this without a mentor well versed in the magical world, is risking falling into the many traps and getting confused. So I started to study what was between the lines instead of trying to figure out what the lines were saying. So instead of me finding the Order and the mentor to get initiated, the initiations somehow found me. Many odd things happened and coincidence somehow worked for me in getting the messages across. Many instances of me somehow knowing things that were impossible for me to know, baffled my girlfriend at that time. Yet the most odd was coming home and see two clear white lines on the living room mirror. I got very angry with her as she was supposed to pick up her daughter from kindergarten and not playing around, snorting white lines. I sort of just knew where I could find her. Finding her, confronting her with finding white lines on the mirror made her confess. When we came home she asked how I found out, I tried to show her but the lines on

the living-room mirror was gone, and I got my own surprise when she told me they had use the mirror in the bathroom. Even though deep inside I had only love for her, she was scared of me. It seemed that coincidence somehow made the sky black every time she pressed me towards being really angry with her. When this relationship finally came down, with her choosing a local drug-dealer, I got furious by the way she served the knife in my back. So coming to collect my stuff, I noticed two big guys eyeballing me, even though they were visiting the guy living upstairs. Since we at that time could not afford to get married, we had made another pact. These pacts are what you put into them, and by breaking it, all sorts of haunting came her way. A few days later she called me, pleading to have me undo the pact. The sun was shining from a clear sky when I arrived, she told me of all the bad beings haunting her in her dreams and how miserable she felt. She was demanding me to break my spell on her. What spell? I thought. In my own eyes I was just a neophyte in all this, just a normal human having been hurt deeply by this confused woman. I had to let her go, had to somehow make this right again, even though I deep down had the commitment to just let her fry in her own hell. Her pressing me into doing this for her, made my fury come up to the surface and the sky outside grew very dark. Standing with my back to the window I could only see the fear in her eyes growing. She had really pushed me so close to hating her for what she did, that I was about to just leave her to be with her own daemons. Yet I could not do it, this is not who I truly am. The lightning broke the sky in half, letting me see a frightened being begging for it to stop. All the lights went out, all became dark... I could hear her cry; I bowed down and found her at my feet. I felt sorry for her and started to tell her that I would release her from the pact and let her go. As I

made a ritual of clearing the room, banishing whatever darkness this had brought upon her, the light came back on. I did release her to the extent of my abilities and it worked its magic. She tried to keep me as friend by inviting me to this party. I really did not want to go, but somehow I did. Coming there, I soon realized that it was a Hells Angels party. I drank one beer out of curtsey for the invitation and came up with an excuse to leave. The guy we used to rent the flat from, choose to leave at that same time. We had talked a lot during my one year stay there, but he was very angry with me, not really understanding why. It seemed that this ex-girlfriend had said something about me being a psycho, being violent and wanting to kill her. That was the reason these two Hell's Angel sitting in his apartment, guns packed, ready for me to cross that line, ready to shoot me dead if they had too. I laughed and once he figured out that he had been played, he laughed too. So I left in good standing with him. I closed my books on magic, having no need to ever dominate another being.