Saturday, September 23, 2023

XERXES - Childhood Mischief


First I submit gratitude to all who receive my words. In reaching out there are many who receive. Many not aware. It is not my intention to spread an egoic recital of my worth. Rather my intention is to share my own words. My own experience. My own story through my eyes.

Persia was more than an empire. It was a land of pastoral beauty. The farms and fields were interspersed with forests. It is true that record of this perception of Persia is lacking. It is true that the lands of this former empire are fraught with dust and sand and endless war. The winds of change come. The recompense for all that was done at the hands of all who caused pain and suffering is now. In this I am complicit. I too caused pain and suffering in my adult years. But it is my youth that I wish to share now.

The setting is a small field of poppy bright. Fragrant. Cool winds shuffling through the foliage surrounding the field. It was a secret paradise. Not far through the trees was a small stream. A pebbled bottom. Small fish darting through the swirling waters. It was here I first saw her. And that is where I end this part of my story to go backward further. To my early youth. Before I was trained in the brutal ways of war.

I was a boy of eight or nine. I was half the size of a full grown man. My cohorts were the same in size and stature. I was of average height. My hair left to grow. Often tied back or plaited. It was below my shoulders. Thick. My companions were always around. Sons of great advisors. Sons of field hands. We did not discriminate then between us. Each one who could run and climb and participate in our mischief and games was always welcomed. There was not a girl at that time who desired to run and climb. Had there been one. She would have been welcomed. The girls were interested in the household and care of family and friends. Pressed in the art of beauty and nurture.

We boys had other lofty ideals. Slipping in to the field and chasing the stallions. Riding the sheep. No the thought of tipping a cow was not present. The care of the herd was sacred. It was the very food that sustained the strong warriors for which we were all destined to become.

We ran to the orchards for cover. For treats. For respite from the very few chores that were imposed upon us. We were treated as royalty. All of us children. And laughter permeated nearly every moment.

There are few occasions of displeasure. Of spying on the adults to overhear the grim news of a far distant attack. Of the rare occasion that a loved member of the troupe we called family returned on the back of horse. Or in the bed of an old wooden cart. The deaths were far and few between as i recall. Yet now in retrospect and reflection we children were protected from it. From this vantage of all seen the death was a daily diversion for many of the adults. Death both natural and not. Dealt with immediately with reverence and yet without reverie. Nearly always kept hidden from the children.

This brief digression is complete. It sets the scene for the pure joy and comfort we children obtained. So why the mischief? Why not the mischief? There was always an urge to push boundaries of joy. And occasionally that included playing the adults for fools and fools pardon.

To the mischief. 

What would one do if all the days work of fig harvest was removed from view? The burden of revealing the theft of such harvest would fall to the youngest of workers. Taken to the emperor and guards this worker would be shaking with fear of reprisals for such a loss.

What if in the early morning of the last harvest day the youth stole into the sheds and removed the harvest to the palace?

What if in the boredom of the afternoon quiet ten or so half sized men stalked the orchards and removed the last of the baskets of figs. What if these baskets were carried one by one quietly without reprisal to the grand meeting hall?

What if these baskets were hidden under cover of the richest garments and blankets?

And then to the utmost regret of those men in the position of harvest and storage realizing the harvest has gone missing? Off to the palace the youngest worker was sent.

And upon entrance to a grand hall filled with grand adults in grand attire this young harvester was ushered to the front of the emperor and guard?

The moment of stillness as all watched is clear and present for me even in this now. And those adults holding back the mirth is one of pure delight.

And the emperor, bringing the young worker to the front of the bulk of garments and the children tearing away the colorful fabrics to reveal the figs!

The uproar of laughter and music and the flat leather soles of the sandals as the children ran circles around the worker.

I do not take complete credit for the grand scheme. But to the adults it was a great wonder. That the children would expend such energy to devise and implement such mischief.

A feast was prepared for all and spilled out into the courtyard as all of the people joined the merriment.

And this is but one moment of pleasure recalled now. Mischief in the palace and without. To the edges of the palace grounds was our field of play.

And we learned more than once that playing tricks on the goats was folly at best.

Copyright 2023 Terran Cognito

The need for September


Hi everyone!   Lots of changes in progress with the blog and the formats I am working with. I'm online with Substack, which will feature for the moment just the Xerxes material until I figure out all the bells and whistles on Substack.   Google is not maintaining blogspot and I should have got off this platform years ago.  

I am doing much better, strength is back.  I feel very good overall.   Thanks to everyone here and for your heartfelt concerns.  I'll be fine.   Lost about a month's worth of gig work but it all works out.

I need to raise $800 for September,  if you can help please consider donating.  Donations are value for value, and not tax deductible on US tax returns.

I have a lot of material to post lately (a nice change) and one old post I couldn't post two years ago.   There was a lot of things between 2018 and 2022 I just couldn't talk about.   Didn't mean there wasn't a lot going on, there was, but sometimes it's best to quiet.    

I am sensing we are about to get very busy as the systems are imploding.  

Sophia Love's newsletter this week had a sentence  “…. realize that you are not witnessing the beginning of a war, but the end of an occupation…”.  For all the fear porn talk of alien invasions and fake alien invasions, we were already occupied by a rough set of galactic pirates since Atlantis 2 sunk, and most don't even know it.  And now they've been removed.  Do you honestly think humans left to themselves would dream up this hell hole of lose-lose scenarios?   That's not how unviolated humans behave.  

The challenge we have left is those middle manager humans who profited off of tormenting their fellow humans for money, for the pirates, and just can't imagine anything better than that.   They will either change or find their reward someplace else.  Source is inforcing, through every inbodyment on the planet.  Source is the source of all the strange coincidences you are seeing that cause people to speak the truth when they don't intend to, and make choices that wake everyone up.   Yes there are "white hats" both local and non-local and universals.  

I want to thank everyone for the outpouring of love I was given while in the hospital, it's nice to know that I positively impacted a few live.  I really didn't realize the impact I have had! 😍


Friday, September 22, 2023

XERXES - My Beginning

My Beginning

With my first recollection of my command of a young body, I am being sung to sleep in the lap of my mother. Her floral scent comforting and familiar. The tone of her voice warming my heart. Brushing away the fear of sleep with her gentle fingers caressing my hair.

She was called Attopolese by my father. She was the daughter of the great ruler Cy-rees. I, her firstborn. Younger brothers and one sister followed, but I was forever sealed in her heart as her first and one true love.

Thus begins the setting of my station. Older siblings amoung the fray, but the first of the singular royal line of great Persian leaders. And much was expected of me.

The first eleven years were spent in glorious wonder. Exploring the grounds and buildings. Raised by everyone. Loved by all. Cared for and nurtured by all. There were always boys to climb fig trees. Servants to chase us from the stallions’ field. Women to feed us sweet treats. And little girls to tease and chase to our hearts content. Paradise for that age.

I share that I was one of adventure. Mischief. I see these words flow easily now. And I grasp the need to attend to the details by waiting for the correct moment for her to receive the message.

My parentage was a great advantage. The research is valid. I do not dwell on the gallantry of the upbringing. Persia was golden. Not a golden age. Not a richness unrewarded. Golden.

The air was ripe and fresh. The sands and swallows and small meadows and yes forests held a golden hue.

Yes ours is depicted as barren. A desert. A hollow dry place. In my days and nights there was much abundance of life and measured sadness.

The details of my young life are not most important. I am lost to history but for a few notes from a majical musician and a stealthy painter or two. A coin of great value bears my resemblance but that matters not. Not now. Not then.

I was happy. Well fed. Well practiced in the arts of athletes of my time. Archery. Racing. And horses. We did have the mastery of horsemanship.

The household is described as this. If you are interested. My first memory is of the open veranda. Fruits and other treats in baskets on a table. Children. Some my brothers running free and laughing. There were men and woman of great stature always gathered at our doorstep. In and out. Making great plans. Discussing great adventures. Weaving the future of our great Persia.

There were long and straight halls leading off the grand meeting place. And rooms for sleep were plenty and well decorated. Yes there were silks and cottons and every manner of woven fabrics. As if that is important?

Oh and the colors? Yes. Vibrant to the eye. Deep and rich. And hand dyed by the very masters of the art. Each one pleased to share talents that were housed in the palace.

The beds were of comfort. The food was plenty. The decorations fancy. The lighting was by wick and oil.

You surely will inquire of the food? All grown in the surrounding lands. And hunted in the nearby forests. Yes. Forests. Persia of great was not a complete desert of dry sand and bitter winds. It was lush. Green. With streams flowing with sweet water and lakes with cool and comforting banks.

The abundance was shared by all. And we held that no man was a slave to another in that palace. That singular household. Each had a role to play in the upkeep. And the children were happy to play the roles as well.

It is said that i was arrogant. And perhaps that is true. I say this. I was a happy and carefree child. My favorite and cherished memories are of hiding in the tops of the trees of the orchard along the grand alley to the palace. And in doing so, eating my fare share of plums and pomegranates and figs.

There were so many wonderful men and women that watched and cared for us. There was never a moment of fear that I recall. And now in all retrospect of all that is and all that has been written. Persia was a paradise without compare.

I share this and admit my guilt. If I had followed my heart. And remained true to Persia. To paradise. I would not have sacrificed her future to the conquest of other nations.

The sadness I feel now sharing this moment wells up into my heart. Yes. I still have a heart. I am in form. And intend to make your acquaintance as permitted by these swaying winds both bitter and sweet.

I take great care as i share this. Had I not been hoisted to power by those who desired my. . . . . I share this now. In hesitation above and herein. The attempted conquest of the Greeks was great folly.

I am fully responsible. And knowing this in my heart and in all of my being. I know that my participation in the events created a diversion. One that gave credence and possibility to future events. Contributing to the decline of my family. My people. And of all those I loved. And love even now. To this very moment. In the most recent history of earth.

I ask this to be shared now. Persia is a people of great love. Of great compassion. Of great art and contribution. And her people of a beauty to be shared. As they are all given to do even now. No amount of control/ of mismanaged power or dismantled colonization, can stifle her. She will rise once more. In beauty and in grace.

This moment closes. I see. And I am grateful for this short moment to share my story. There is much more if the writer is willing to bring it out and give letters to the words. And that is all I wish. That the story of Persia is held with love as all move forward into what is expanding now.

I am Xerxes.

Copyright 2023 Terran Cognito

Thursday, September 21, 2023

Substack site online

 My substack blog is functional. I don't know all the ends and outs of using substack so there may be hiccups here and there over the coming weeks, if you care to subscribe (currently free) I'm

Tuesday, September 19, 2023

Xerxes: The Beginning


What follows is an experiment by Denice and myself in self publishing. These articles are copyrighted but I share them with my readers who have been so generous in their support over the years.  There will be a bound version eventually. Xerxes has long wanted to tell his story, separate from his history as the warrior King of Persia. All that we have in history is really from the Greek historian Herodotus. The Greeks have an entirely different perception of  Xerxes than the Persians do.  I don't read Farsi so I can't really vouch for what is known about him in Iran. Whether he chooses to address any conquests I leave to him, but my sense is he wants Persia to see a bigger possibility of life now than bloody wars.  I sense love for his roots, if you will. 

I understand why he chose Denice as she is really really good at this.  And she has three modes that she can receive data.  She does not channel.  He claims to know me, but I don't have any recall of that life (yet).  He hasn't said what personage I was during that time.  I only have some memories from 4 or 5 lives and those are fragments.  otherwise I'm as amnesiac as the rest of humanity on this planet.

We weren't really sure what direction this would go, but so far I'm finding it an interesting read. I love the way he uses words, he can be very poetic. He takes full responsibility for setting a precedent for war in both Iran and Afghanistan (both were of the Persia Empire) which echoes even today. 

These will be his words, not mine, in any case I have no way to vouch for what he writes other than how it feels. This is not a channeling, its a telepathic conversation. He has returned to Earth at an undisclosed location. I am assuming he's in a new body since he was assassinated in his prior Earth incarnation. 

I take for granted that consciousness never dies, and that we live life after life, some on Earth and some elsewhere as we journey through our lives in form for the joy of experience. I realize for many, these are big assumptions, and if that is true of you, or your religion doesn't allow for such possibility then view this is as science fiction if you need too. I won't be offended if your views don't match my own.  It is still a fun read either way. -Terran

The Beginning 

The beginning is never truly that. There is always a hint of a back story. A precedent. History. For all purposes, we begin this here and now at this position in the story. We call it the beginning.

Now. Picture this image. A fallow field. Brown and gray. Whisps of dust caught in a light whirling breeze that blows by. Trees dark and a palette of greens in the backdrop. A path cut along this field entering the forest or leaving it? Perspective of course. A crow with hues of iridescent blue making noise from its perch on a rock at the edge of the field. 

A man in the costume of a defeated soldier. Lone. bloodied. Dragging his hilt and shield. Dropping to his knees at the crow. At the rock. What is not seen yet is a small stone structure. A home. A family. The bustling of the normal work of the day. Watering the animals. Feeding the hens. Threshing the harvest near a wooden barn. The mother sees the soldier and sends her two young sons to assist. 

Thus begins the story of my father’s union and progeny. . His healing and recovery at the hands of the gentle couple and their family created a respite for him from his rigid royal life.. Crossing paths by the divine guidance that sent him out the wood past that particular dusty field. 

It is here that my father gains a true friend. The farmer. His first wife. The farmer’s daughter. My father was a royal living and healing among those he ruled.. Gaining the strength and fortitude of heart and mind to follow the new path before him in the coming ages. Darius the Great. 

This part of the story is again a place to begin. But it is not my beginning. Its import is that my father’s first wife is not my mother. But that is where my story begins. If his young love had been my own mother, my path would have taken a very different direction. 

 Copyright 2023 Terran Cognito

Monday, September 18, 2023

On the purported "Q Phone"

GW: Will you check this out to see if there's any truth. 

I remember a conversation with the Data Collectors in 2015 that Steve Jobs returned to his Andromedan body after he transitioned from his Earth form after a long battle with cancer. Steve Jobs was an Andromedan Starseed on a mission to Earth.  Now he's back home. At the time they said he was working on a next generation communication device.  Whether this is it or not I do not know.  They didn't say. 

Terran: I got this from GW, he wants to know if there’s any substance to it. I do remember in 2015 something about Steve Jobs working on “iArena” (click on link to article) which sound a little similar.  

Terran: Perhaps Stan can verify?


Terran note:  It exists but it's not called a Q-phone. It communicates with quantum technology, not radio frequencies.  And if I remember correctly it's peer-to-peer.  No phone company needed.

Thor on the many synthetic disasters of late

Maui Fires   

Stan or Thor,

I wasn’t able to look at this earlier given my situation, but it really does look like some directed energy weapon started that fire in Maui and it does seem to be very frequency specific as items painted blue escaped.

A few questions:

 1. Was the fire a result of a direct energy weapon?

 2. Was this from a plane or drone or a satellite or space object in orbit. 

 3. Was it an Earth human group behind it?  If so are these ones still on the loose?

 4. Some claim it was from a "stealth satellite" that non-locals are not able to detect.  This feels like misdirection to me.  Is there any substance to this idea of a stealth directed energy satellite.

We first noticed this kind of thing in the Paradise California fire a few years back.  Trees remaining but homes and cars destroyed.  Especially cars made from aluminum.  The Canadian fires look suspicious but I have seen no on the ground videos of that.  But then some of those areas are very remote.  Some in the norther US states claim it’s smelled like oil rather than wood smoke. 

Greece had similar fires to Maui and now there are in Algeria.  First a huge quake at the Ski resort in the Atlas Mountains.  Then the floods in Libya killing thousands in that desert climate.  And now fires in Algeria.

 5. Were these events “natural”  (Earth cleansing itself?) or was this more of this directed energy and scalar weaponry.   The USA is not the only country with such weapons, and I suspect some non-nation actors / agents may have them too.

 6. Does the Galactic Federation really want to help, or are they here for the ticket tape parade down Times Square in NYC?