The 9D Arcturian Council: Huge Downloads leading to Mass Awakenings

The 9D Arcturian Council: Huge Downloads Leading to Mass Awakenings

February 25, 2021 by Sitara

by Daniel Scranton

“Greetings. We are the Arcturian Council. We are pleased to connect with all of you.

We have been taking you slowly through the paces, so to speak, preparing you, little by little, for the larger downloads that we feel you are ready for at this time.

You are ready to receive these downloads because we, and our cohorts in the higher realms, have been softening you up.

We have been readying you for the avalanche of energies that are now imminent for all of you.

There has been enough receptivity to what we all have been offering to consider humanity in your intermediate phase in terms of what you are capable of handling now.

It is always important to recognize that the slow and steady pace is what serves you most, and it also allows you to savor each step that you take in the positive direction you are all moving.

Now, these downloads will go directly into your energy fields, and they will allow you to filter more of what you don’t want.

They will help to keep you free from interference from others who use whatever techniques they have at their disposal to lower your vibration and to infiltrate your energy fields with what does not serve you any longer.

Now, in case you are wondering why we didn’t do this sooner, it is because your higher selves wanted you to have certain experiences that you have now had, experiences you do not need to keep having.

You are ready now to have a pure experience of all of the positive energies that are present.

You are ready to have a better experience of your reality, no matter what you are creating.

You have done enough, and you have suffered enough, and you have asked for this protective type of filtration system.

We are, of course, going to work with your guides and your higher selves to ensure that these energies are not only received but properly utilized by all of you there on Earth, regardless of whether the individual is awake or not.

We know that this will lead to mass awakenings and that all of you who have been awake for a while will have more friends and colleagues to play with as a result.

We are very excited about these downloads, and you can expect for all of them to be complete by the time you reach the March Equinox.

Take care of yourselves, get plenty of rest, and drink lots of water to prepare yourselves for what is coming, because it is more energy than you are accustomed to receiving, and in our opinion, these downloads are coming right on time for all of you there on planet Earth.

We are the Arcturian Council, and we have enjoyed connecting with you.”

Co-Operation comes before Love

Archangel Gabrielle: Cooperation Comes Before Love
April 3, 2017 by Steve Beckow

For those of us saying “But I don’t feel love for this person,” begin, as Archangel Gabrielle suggests here, with cooperating.

Cooperation Comes Before Love

Archangel Gabrielle, Saturday Conference Call/040117

Linda Dillon Channel for the Council of Love

Greetings, I am Gabriel. I am Gabrielle, lily of love, trumpet of truth, messenger of One. And yes, sweet angels, beloved beings of light, children, servants, companions of our dear Mother, welcome.

I come this day to speak of a very boring subject, and that is the subject of cooperation. It is one of those low-key areas that doesn’t get a lot of attention, but I intend to bring your attention to this.

What is cooperation? It is an expression and experience of love. It is a practice of love. It is bringing into form, into your experience of being alive, what it is like to be divine. You see, cooperation is very important to us, to the Mother. There are more realms, more universes, more realities, and although you are in a reality that is defined by twelve dimensions and twelve planes within each of those dimensions, there are many dimensional realities as well. But, I think to start with, 144 and the 13th Octave is plenty to deal with. And in all of this there is the essence of cooperation.

Love is the welcoming, the embrace, the acceptance, the true understanding and wisdom of yourself and yes, of others, but only, beloved ones, once you have discovered and truly expanded into that reality of who you are.

So, while I come to talk about cooperation upon this planet and throughout the universe and amongst each other, I first begin with cooperation with your sacred self. Dearest Joe, you asked about what are you supposed to do with your physical body? This is a question that has plagued human beings for eons…Okay, I’m here. I’ve got this form, now what am I supposed to do? And of course, our answer is always the same…it is to enjoy your physical experience. You are angels in form dancing upon a planet which is an archangel. You have been given everything and at the same time, you have been given one of the greatest challenges ever.

You have come upon a planet that has basically forgotten the meaning of cooperation, of generosity, of sharing…not individually but as a collective culture…and you are being asked to heal that. You say, “Well, what about love?” And what I suggest to you, dearest hearts, is that before the full love comes, comes the cooperation. In discussions of language, your star family has shared with you that before Saedor, which is full disclosure and heart speaking, comes Perro, which is speaking in facts.

Cooperation straddles the two. What it does is gives you enough information that you are able to see yourself and others and to put that in a context that allows you to proceed. But you cannot proceed, not in the way of the Mother’s plan – which is really all we’re concerned with – you cannot proceed if you are not in full cooperation with yourself because then you are over-extending and robbing Peter, literally, to pay Paul and that will never work.

In many traditions of many religions, self-sacrifice has been seen as a mighty virtue. What I suggest to you is that when you are sacrificing yourself, you are turning off the spigot of love and you are turning off the connection to your higher self and your universal self and to your body. Why would you wish, in any situation, way, or form, to compromise your beloved sweet self?

Cooperation means that you proceed in ways that fortify, nurture, surrender, take care of, the totality of your being so that you are sufficient; that you have enough energy in order to proceed with your mission and purpose which is always going to be in concert and interaction with others, whether it is one or one billion, it matters not. Energy is required and if you are starving yourself, self-sacrificing yourself, because you feel that this is saintly, then child you have truly gone down the wrong path, you have gone down that rabbit hole.

Now, I am a practical archangel, that is what has made me, given me the privilege of being Central Administrator of the Mother’s Universe. So, I say to you, “What does cooperation mean to you and what does it look like, particularly with your sacred self?” It means, beloved one, that you are listening, paying attention, and actually responding. Many of you say, “Well I listen to myself, to my higher self, to my universal self, to my body all the time.” To which I say, “Bravo! You are doing stellar work.” But sweet angels, after you listen, after you receive the information, after you receive the messages – either subtle or dramatic – how do you respond?

When you are tired, do you rest? When you are exhausted, do you say, “One more hour?” When you are literally dying to go outside, take a walk and get a breath of fresh air, do you say, “Well, I will have to wait for another day because I’m busy now?” When your children want to play, can and does your body agree or have you let it fall into disrepair, that you are no longer limber or energetic enough to get on the floor and roll around? And might I suggest, even if the children aren’t around or available, that you get on the floor and roll around just for the sheer joy of it?

Cooperating is cooperation with every part of your being. Now, not all of you are fully in touch with the reality of your interdimensional being. Not all of you are in touch, fully, with your sub-conscious or unconscious. What I am asking of you, what I am suggesting and pleading with you is if you listen even to the conscious messages, that your higher self, universal self is constantly feeding you and your body is feeding you, your emotional body is feeding you, your causal body is feeding you, your mental body is feeding you, and respond with kindness, generosity, gentleness, then you will have the necessary balance, the groundedness, the integration to go forward. And from there you can jump into your inspired self and go forth to what you truly want to do.

But this level of cooperation with your sweet, gentle, brilliant, magnificent, expanded self is necessary…yes, necessary. Your integrating levels of energy that are incomprehensible to you…I do not say that in the way of denigration, I say it at the level of energies that you are holding and integrating, anchoring, and expanding into. You do not have the science base to explain or to understand. So, if you were a nuclear physicist you would come close. But you have heard me, child, talk time and time and time again about the implosion/explosion, and that is happening at a catalytic rate constantly, right now.

You’re preparing…you say, “Gabrielle, dear Gabby, I am sick and tired of hearing you talk about preparation and clearing!” You are preparing. You are in readiness. And what that means, sweet angels, is you have need to be in a clarity and a purity of association, cooperation, integration, love, with all parts of your being. Because it has never been that the Mother has said, “Go, go my sweet angels and be in form. And by the way, don’t pay any attention to your form, just concentrate on the spiritual. Yes, you will have emotions, but pay no attention to that, pay attention to the spiritual or pay attention to your body. Oh, you will have brilliant, magnificent thoughts, you will discover the meaning of the universe, but don’t pay attention to that.”

No, it has always been all of the above. And it continues in ways that are far beyond the current past experience of humanity…to be all of the above plus, plus, plus, plus. I bring this to your attention as your sister, as your guardian, as the lily of love because I care and love you so deeply. I do not want you to get to that starting point, to hear the gun and start to run and fall down after five minutes because you have not cooperated with all parts of your being, you have not expressed the love, the surrender, the acceptance, the welcoming to all pieces of who you are.

So, if there is anything, for any reason, because you thought it was taken care of, because of fear, because of anger, because of trepidation, any of the old reasons, if there is anything that you feel that you have not addressed, take a moment and simply fall in love, cooperate with what is rising to the surface, what is gaining your attention, what has been waving out of the corner of your eye. In this deepest level of cooperation, beloveds, you are cooperating with the Mother, with the Father, you are cooperating with your piece of the unfoldment of the Mother’s Plan. You are cooperating with the entire Council of Love that is at your beck and call, we always have been; we are in sacred union and we are cooperating more than you know.

And from that level, a fundamental foundation of peace, because that is what cooperation is, it is the bringer of peace. From that you create a family, relationships, communities, cities, nations of peace. But where there is friction, where there is constant chaos, there is not creativity, there is only tearing down and destruction. So, turn inwards my beloveds, turn to the brilliance, turn to the softest yellow with a tinge of blue, and practice cooperation.

Go with my love and go, sweet angels, with my joy. Farewell.

Channeled by Linda Dillon
© 2017 Council of Love, Inc.
http://counciloflove.com/

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The Expatriate – Billy Blue

First published in Oct/Nov 1984, this story won a Billy Blue Literary Award for fiction in 1985. For those readers who have been asking for longer posts, this is for you!

When I think of Brian Nanicull, I see him standing on the verandah of his plantation house as the sun rises over Maloe Bay. I see his red hair and beard, his freckled complexion above the eight or ten curly heads which surround him. He is discussing their various ailments in pidgin English. Brian administers Chloroquin to a shivering dark skinned Buka, one of his plantation workers, with a bad dose of malaria. Someone requests that he open the store and the little group marches down the steps to a corrugated iron outhouse which sells everything from thongs to rice. The day’s work has begun

The odour of fish and breadfruit chips wafts from the kitchen, separated from the main house by a covered verandah like the downstroke of a T. Ariou arrives on a motorbike, clad in a flowered lap-lap, carrying a ripe pawpaw and a handful of limes to bring out the flavour of the piquant red fruit, the first course at breakfast.

Nia his wife is dressing the children for school, while baby Marcus plays at her feet. Brian arrives and beeps the horn.

“School Kev, anyone else for the ride?”

The car bumps along the coral sand road, past rows of palms, dodging coconuts and comes to a few houses on the outskirts of a village. A chicken squawks across the road, an old man waves, a soman is sweeping the coral sand in front of her house with a short sago palm boom.

Stopping in front of Nia’s parents house Brian asks:

“How is Fili this morning.”

“He’s much better, fever all gone.”

Smiling faces surround the car, hands waving, shy grins. Brian checks his patient. Grandma takes baby Marcus. We move off again and the car grinds its way over the coral shingle to the school.

The collection of buildings is built in part of native style materials – the roof is palm thatches, the walls are woven bamboo. A blackboard adorns one wall, rows of desks sit on the coral sand floor.There are no windows – the trade winds have free access here. Kev jumps out of the utility tray onto the white sand and runs through the green and red leaved crotons ringing the playground. Children are shouting, running, kicking footballs, drinking and splashing of the water pump. The bell rings. The silence is broken by the rustling of coconut palms, the drone of insects and the cry of terns.

The road crosses the airstrip which Brian examines minutely, feeling the sand between his fingers – its dry, coral sand drains well. The wind sock points northwest and the air is hot and heavy as we enter the surrounding jungle. Beside the road are two taro beds, indentation of marshy ground, patches of cultivation among the jungle vines and creepers. A man is cutting into the fleshy big leaved plants with a bush knife. Served boiled or made into a type of bread, it forms the stable food of the islanders. Sweet potato, breadfruit, bananas, fish and chicken add variety.

The road burst forth into the open vista of coconut plantation.The coconut palm is to the islanders what bamboo is in Asia – a plant whose utility is as varied as man’s ingenuity. Houses, roofs and walls are thatched with palm leaves, sago palm is better but scarce, a woven hat provides shade, a sleeping mat not much comfort – the green leaves are woven into dishes which won’t burn, green nuts provide a cool fruity drink, while the meat of the nut flavours chicken, taro and fish. Cophra from the dried meat of the coconut provides income to buy what the plant itself cannot furbish.

Returning to the plantation, Brian starts the generator. In the house, fans begin to whirl, the radio becomes operational, Nia begins to iron.

“Wuvulu, Wewak, do you read me Wewak, over”.

“Come in Wuvulu, over.”

“Brian Nanicull here. Do you have a flight coming over today?”

“Yes. What would you like us to bring Brian?”

” There’ll be an order to pick up at Burns Philp – medical supplies – and don’t forget the South Pacific lager and the mail.”

“How’s the strip?”

“Condition A!.”

“We’ll be there around 12, over and out.”

Brian drives out past the well and the cophra drying shed, past the corrugated iron houses of the Sepik boys, the plantation workers, to an area of plantation being cleared of undergrowth. Small dark figures, hair garnished with red hibiscus wield flashing bush knives, slashing to the accompaniment of high voices engaged in pidgin chit chat, interrupted at intervals by peals of laughter.

Further into the plantation, crabs scurry before the car, retreating into holes just before the wheels. A figure grows larger between the trees. A wave, a smile and work continues. He aims a coconut at a stake driven into the ground, twists the nut off the stake and strikes again a little further around the nut. Three strikes and the coconut is dehusked. The husk fibre joins a rapidly growing pile. The nut is split by a sharp blow from the back of the machete and white milk splashes on brown feet as the two halves join another pile beside a sugar bag of half moons, threatening to burst its string and spill the contents on to the pile. A tractor and tray pass and Simon heaves his bag on top of the 20 or so others on board.

Brian follows the tractor back to the drying sheds. Here the old men stoke the fires in the corrugated iron hothouse. Coconut sells and husks are used to fire the eternal flame, barely visible in the smoky steam bath atmosphere. Outside women are separating the dried coconut from the shell with a flick of the bush knife. Hessian bags strung between bars like a body on a trampoline are filled with dried cophra. Row upon row of rough brown bags await the arrival of the boat which will take them to market.

A faint drone in the distances signals the arrival of the plane.

“Balus, he come.”

The utility fills quickly quickly, brown bodies sitting all around, standing in the middle, holding each other. Bicycles, motorbikes, people running walking, the traffic is heavy, where yesterday only a car and a few bikes had been seen all day.

The Cessna 402 touches down then bumps along the runway. Driving across the grass with blades whirling wind grass and dust cover the waiting crowd. The hatch opens to reveal an Aussie in shorts, long socks, followed by two contemporaries,

“Brian , I’d like you to meet Andy Williams. He’s resident doctor at Wewak Hospital now, and this is David Olwin, government officer.’

Two Wuvuluvians returning from hospital are greeted by handshakes and chatter while the cargo is unloaded.

“Come to the house and have a cold beer” and addressing the crowd:

” You tell ‘im, any mari sick, bring ‘im to house.”

A shiny roof flashes between the tree trunks, thatching over the eaves stops excess water overflowing the gutters and splashing through the net walls – which keep out insects but allow the pale almost transparent geckos to hold on with the buttons on their fingers. The verandahs are the living quarters in this climate, the cool oasis in a vista of greenery and blue sea. A beer in the cane chairs and pancakes and tea for lunch is tropical living at its best. A knock on the door is the cue for the doctor to begin work.

“Would you like to go fishing later?’ Brian asks.

“Fine. What do you think. Pat has sold out to a group from Japan?”

“He’s probably jumping the gun a bit, but a lot of expatriots are getting out.”

“Well, some have reason to, but I’m surprised at Pat. He’s been here nearly 30 years, some of his boys have been with him as long. Well,I’ll be right, Nia has land in the village and I’ve built a house. The trouble is if the plantation goes, I won’t have an income.”

Brian gathers up lines, gaff, his odd assortment of lures. As the feathers wear out, Brian substitutes the brightest scraps of dress material he can find and these improvised lures work better than the originals. The boat shed houses a 4 meter aluminium boat which is launched and sets out through the narrow channel.

“I’m getting wet. there’s a hole under my feet.”

“That’s all right, a rivet’s popped out – it’ll keep you cool.”

As the lines are out and the lures are no longer skipping the surfac, Brian removes the bungs from the boat.

“What are you doing?”

“While we’re trolling, I’ll keep the bungs out, that’ll keep the water flow constant – into and out of the boat” says Brian.

A strike! The fish is circling the boat and Brian must stand to avoid entangling the line aropud the others. He pulls a metre long fish into the water rapidly filling the boat.

“I forgot the bungs, we’d better get going fast.”

Brian informs his startled crew The lake in the bilge gradually shrinks as they ead back across the bay. In the distance dark heads bob in silver streams of sunlight. Long poles reach out over the reef edge seeking dinner.

“You know the water off Wuvulu drops off to 1000 metres.”

“It must be an underwater mountain, how far out is this deep water/”

“In most places right off the reef flat, say 40 metres from the edge. At night when there’s a moon, the villages fish for the legendary ferrari, in 500 metre ow water using a rock and a banana leaf.”

“OK, come in spinner, what’s the rock and the banana leaf for?”

“The rock is the sinker and the banana lea, releases the rock and allows th bait to drift in the current at that depth>”

“What’s this ferrari look like?”

“Well it’s something like a grouper, but has phorescent lights on its body and a fishing line and bait dangling from its mouth.”

“That I’d have to see to believe>”

“I’ve never been able to find it in any book on fishes, and I’ve found most others I’ve seen up her.”

“Why don’t you send one to The Australian Museum?”

“Well, one day I hope someone from here, maybe my son or one of the village boys will clear up some of the mysteries. I hope to see the day when Wuvulu produces doctors,scientists and anthropologists. We’ve produced a few local celebrities already, unfortunately they have to go away. The best of our young people are drained away from here,”

Back at the beacj tje Sepiks crowd around to view the catch with laughter and praise. There are plenty of willing hands to haul the boat into the shed. Brian gives the fish to them – protein is scarce in their diet.

“We’d better be making tracks,” says Jason.

“Come in for a beer, and a clean up first”.” As they make their way to the house Jason comments:

“I envy your lifestyle here Brian, no problems, things carry on from day to day.”

“Well I have my problems, but I like I like it here, I guess I’ll die here.”

A smiling face approaches.

“Good on you Warlou, Kuka for tea.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a land crab that uses its claws to break open coconuts.”

“I wouldn’t like to tangle with one.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to lose a finger.”

A crowd is gathring near the store and Brian opens up for the second time while the others wander into the house.

Relaxing in a deep cane chair, Andy comments to Jason.

“Last time I was here it was not so peaceful. We had an emergency call to treat a little girl with a broken arm.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“No, but an old man appeared while I was treating her. A boy was sick in the village and he wanted me to come.”

” Well, Brian and I got down there as soon as we could, but it was too late – the boy was already dead.”

“What was it?”

“Without an autopsy, I couldn’t be certain, but appanently h had been sick for days with some kidney complaint.”

“Hadn’t Brian seen him?”

“No, that’s the strange part – he didn’t hear a whisper of it. They’re strange people sometimes, superstitious, probably strict Seventh Day Adventist. Better not say anything to Brian, he was pretty upset about it.”

As Brian enters, Jason offers him some Kuka.

“It’s delicious Brian, like lobster and thanks and thanks Brian for everything, it’s just like I was told, a paradise.”

The rhythmic pounding of Sepik drums or Kunda heralds the plane’s departure. As it circles the jewelled green island, Brian’s arm encircles Nia.

I was in Wewak again last year. As I drove along the waterfront, I saw a familiar red head and freckled face. He was driving a bulldozer. When I spoke to him of Wuvulu, he told me he left after independance, when the Plantation was resumed by the government. I asked him why he doesn’t come back home and he said:

“Wuvulu is home.”

I was reminded of an earlier visitor, Birger Morner, a Swede who visited Wuvulu in 1913 on a yacht, who wrote:

“Follow me, follow me you who shiver in the cold, to my far Pacific Isle, where a red hibiscus gleams and my heart has taken root.“

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