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Awakening of an American Artist
"Atlantis Rising; The Awakening of an American Artist"
Introduction to Part Two: "Activation"
By Jon-William Brown
There is this one night in particular that I'm continously drawn back
too. It was a time right after I returned to Boston from my first trip
to Yosemite, California in late November of 1997. A snowy, January winter
nite, and the "chance" conversations with a Mr. Dimarino in regards to
the Solarian Legacy, the Hermetics, and "spiral energies". Little did
I know then, that what I thought I knew or was remembering that nite,.....was
to soon come to pass.
"Where I have been does not exist in time any more. I like to be in
the "now". When you are in the now, you are better prepared to learn from
the past ............and see what is yet to come."
and the Angels-
Where ever and Who ever
you may be.
Journal Entry- January 20th, 1998
Earlier this evening I was sitting in the train station on a bench reading
my book, "The Solarian Legacy" by Paul Von
Ward. I had about a half hour before my train pulled into the station. I
had been focused on the upcoming insights that I was currently having earlier
in the day about the Hermetic Principles, the foundations or "bridge" that
transforms all energy to the physical realm. I wanted to spend the time
outlining and preparing for a possible workshop at some point in the future.
Since I was absorbed in reading at the time, I never saw this gentleman
appear next to me. I happened to look up as he was questioning me as to
whether or not this place had a clock. As he proceeded to sit down, I pointed
out the time on the train monitor that hung from the station's ceiling.
He said he couldn't see it, so I told him it was 7:31. He told me he had
a 8 o'clock to catch. I knew he was going to be on the Rockport train with
me because that was the only train scheduled out at that time. He asked
if they would announce it and I told him they probably would. I assumed
that he did not often travel this route.
As he continued
to speak, that 'feeling" crept in again. It's so familar to me now that
I recognize it instantly. My senses become very attuned, a kind of "knowing"
is the best way I can describe it. As he sat down, he looked at me non-chalantly
and asked what I was reading, as if he already knew. Either that or he
was just making conversation. I then replied, "Solarian Legacy. " He said,
"Ohhhhh, so you are into Solar, are you?" Just then a small rush of energy
sort of swept through me, recognizable in it's frequency now, a familiar,
distinct pattern. So identifiable now after constant fine tuning, I immediately
take notice. I gave him a long stare where our eyes met. He was an older
gentleman with a grey goatee, dark eyes, a long black trench coat and
one of those french berets on top his head. He looked like a perfect stereotype
of an european painter. I then closed my book, it was time to pay attention.
With a coy smile, I responded, "Yes, I am into Solar." I then went on
to describe this particular book. I told him that it is a brand new book
just out on the market. I told him how I came across it through the Boston
Globe retail store where publishers donate new books and they are then
read by the newspapers critics. They then resell them at a very cheap
cost and use the money for charity. I had found my new favorite book store.
He nodded knowingly. I then asked him, with a slant of knowing expectation
what his reply would be,"Are you into Solar?" He then said, "Ohhh yes,
I am into Solar, and whats beneath it, what is all around it, up and down,
and inbetween," he said with a smile. Along with a somewhat cocky attitude,
yet a playful smile, he then went on to tell me he was a world renouned
painter, from a very famous family. There was a slight pause and I replied
that I too was an artist. "I know you are," he said. "I could tell, thats
why I am talking to you now."
By now I knew exactly what was going on and attuned my senses the best
I could, making like a tape recorder and reminding myself to remember
all that is said. To listen, and ask all the right questions. I asked
him what his name was and he went on for about 10 seconds rattling this
very long name the sounds of something like, "I'm Di Marino San something,
something,something, ....of the Sea". There must have been seven parts
to his name that he so proudly exclaimed. He went on and told me that
his family were great lawyers during the Renaissance and even told me
of a book that was written on them. I was somewhat taken by his exquisite
name and family history that I handed him the book I was reading and asked
him to write down the name of the book he had mentioned about his family.
He then took it and said, "Tell you what, I will do this for you instead.
Where shall I do this, right here? " He then began to sketch on the back
cover. As I leaned over ever so curious, he began drawing these small
groups of circular, cylindrical shapes. He then grouped them together
and connected them with contoured lines into a profile of a face, with
what seemed to be a bird with wings on top and one below it. I loved it.
Within a few minutes he was done. He then signed it 'Di Marino' with a
genuine artistic flare. He then presented it to me and said, "Here you
are, for you. When I die, you can buy yourself a brand new mercedes with
this." I accepted it with half a chuckle and he quickly shot a glare at
me with a gleen in his eye and exclaimed, "Yes! I'm serious,....you will
be able too! " I then held out my hand saying thank you, shook his hand,
then told him my name. I said it would be a lot easier to remember then
his. He laughed and said, "but of course! " He then proceeded to sing
"John Browns Body". We both laughed. "Like I have never heard that before,"
I retorted. We went on and talked some more. I wanted to remember everything
that was being said. It all seemed so directly related to what was happening
to me at this particular stage of my life, it was eerie. I just seemed
to stare at him and all the sounds about us seemed to fade in the background.
I held his sketch in my hands looking at it intently as he spoke. I caught
myself half listening to him and half transfixed by the face that was
now imprinted on the back cover of my book. The announcement for our train
came over the loud speaker and with it immediately snapped me back to
the "now". I told him that was our train. He seemed to be happy to hear
"our train?" I said yes, but only one stop and asked him if we could have
a chat till then. He gladly accepted and we got up to board the train.
He told me of his destiny in Gloucester, a rural, well to do coastal community
on the north shore of Boston. I asked if he was raised there, and he said
yes. He went on to tell me how he has done over eleven hundred drawings
and over five hundred paintings. We entered the train and as we came upon
our seats he told me how he could not sit going against the grain. He
had to be in the seats that were facing the direction of the way we would
be moving. I quipped, "So, you like to see where you are heading instead
of where you have been, hey?" He smiled and said, "Oh yes, where I have
been does not exist in time any more. I like to be in the now. When you
are in the now, you are better prepared to learn from the past .......and
see what is yet to come." We talked some more about how he was taken out
to Route 128, the industrial belt of Massachusetts, and how they "used"
him for studying lineage on the computer. He said he showed them how to
obtain 'multi-dimensional' imaging. I said, "So, they studied you, huh?
" He chuckled, "Oh yes, I taught them everything! I taught them theology
and psychology, mathematics, science, and this and that, what more do
they want? " he exclaimed. The conversation went on without a break. I
was still amazed as he continued talking about all related subjects to
what I have been currently working on. All the time, I noticed that I
hadn't told him much about myself, never had the chance really. I then
realized I didn't need to. Some how he already knew who I was. Somehow,
I felt he knew more about me then I knew of myself, it was amazing. What
he was saying seemed directly related to my studies of late. His comments
and the way he spoke, the way he looked at me squarely in the eyes after
mentioning something non-chalantly, seeing if I had been paying attention.
The intent, knowing, so familiar, as if he could read my mind. He spoke,
and I intently listened. He spoke as if it was very important that I listened.
He kept saying, 'Now listen to me". I was thinking, as if the topics were
not significant in of itself, but the timing, again, the timing of such
an encounter. The correspondance. The synchronicity. This is what was
astounding me. The correlations, when one insight, one random intertwining
event, leads to another and they all relate. The intensity increased along
with the focus. He continued on, not allowing for much of a break in the
conversation. When there was one, he would turn away, then turn right
back and say, "And let me tell you another thing." I would allow him,
knowing well enough to just keep listening.
He spoke of so many things, so vast. In the middle of making a point about
symbols, energy, and consciousness, he took back my book and opened to
the drawing he had made earlier. With this he noticed the design on the
front cover. It was Leonardo Da Vinci's famous painting of the "Vitruvian
Man". He said, "There, like this! DaVinci, one of my very first teachers!
" He then turned to the back cover again. "You see these symbols?" I was
so taken by his drawing of the mans profile, bird, and "cyclic spirals"
that he created, that I never noticed that he inscribed four symbols right
above where he had signed his name. A square, a circle, a spiral, and
a triangle. He went on to elaborate, speaking of them in reference to
mathematical equations and degree's. He pointed out that the square and
the triangle are basic forms consisting of diagonal and straight lines,
and their particular relationships to 'planes of consciousness'. He told
me to pay attention to the diagonals, for they are very important. He
then went on to the circle and explained the relationships on how that
was universal and all encompassing. Then he came to the spiral and this
struck me as ever so intensely. I have been studying lately, through several
sources I may add, about the 'cylical forces' of energy. He then put his
hand on his forehead and said, "Right here, in the minds eye, this power
chakra. Rub it, rub it until you see blue man, blue! When it turns white,
follow the spiral of light. The now is the time of the mind." He went
on, "Follow this spiral, this shape, this symbol," pointing again at the
sketch on the book. "It is of utmost importance during this time of transition.
Follow it up from the earth, through your body, and connect to the cosmos
through your crown chakra. The soft spot on the back of your head." He
then smiled and said, "The light, ohhhh the light! "
I felt a shift of understanding in regards to what I have been researching,
what he was referring too, and all the lessons of late relating to the
'spiral forces', the connection of the earth and cosmos. I turned to him
and added, "Unparelled! " He agreed enthusiastically, "Stellar!" I said,
"Yes, cosmic!" He said, "Divine. Do this, and you will attain Dharma.....
Truth, and you will have access to the absolute. Follow it. Listen to
it. Envision it! " The intent of his voice became highly charged, totally
focused. He leaned over closer to me and looking straight into my eyes
went on to say in the most aggressive, yet whispered, assuring way, "You",
pointing his finger at my heart and pressing into my chest, "are on the
right path. Don't let anyone", he then repeated, pressing into my chest
with his finger once again, "ANYONE, tell you otherwise. And I think you"
, he stopped himself right there and then corrected himself, "No, when
you think, you are not sure. What I meant to say is this. I KNOW you will
acheive your goals. Stay on this journey, do not dater, and you will set
standards for future generations to follow. Just think of the people that
you will help. I am here to assure you, to encourage you to go on. You
have taken on the most noble of causes. It is a calling. It is a chosen
path. I know how hard your path is. Be a warrior! Not a warrior that kills
and destroys, but a fighter, one that endures.
sacrifice, your pain, you will have what is yours, and no one will be
able to take this from you. No one can take away your path,....your truth!.
It is yours, and it will endure for all time."
I did not know what to say, I was completely astounded, numbed and paralyzed.
I still can't find the words to describe the way I felt. We were looking
into each others eyes and I could feel that he saw right through me. I
had never even had the chance to mention anything about such a "journey",
such a sacrifice, such pain, such a 'goal'? I never once mentioned anything
about such a thing. How was he to know of any goals of mine? Simply because
I was reading a particular book? How was he able to speak to me, to reach
me in such a way as to make such profound and timely gestures? The Hermetics
and the theory's of mat-energy were swirling about my mind in patterns
of thriving spirals, penetrating a place in my heart. My eyes welled up
and I had this lump in my throat. I managed to utter, "Thank you...Sir.
" There was this permeation of knowing, so familiar now, so concentrated,
so focused. I wanted to ask him who he really was, but I knew better.
I have learned not to question certain things. Who he was, how he knew
of such a journey, and even if there was one, was beyond me. Yet, it wasn't.
I couldn't question this now. I could only listen,....absorb. It did not
matter to me at the moment who he was, or why he was telling me this.
It was what was being said that mattered the most. In the most profound
ways, I was "re-membering" as if waking from a dream.
away but for a moment, now sitting back more relaxed. After a glance out
the window as to pinpoint were we were in the darkness, he then looked
back with a smile and said, "You will be a good teacher someday, I can
tell,...you will teach well". I could only shake my head, thinking to
myself, but I haven't even said a word. I then smiled back and nodded.
In the distance
I could hear the conductor open the compartment door as he does every
nite approaching my stop and yelled out, "Chelsea,..Chelsea!". I could
only again utter a thank you. We shook hands and he grabbed my fist like
they did in the sixties and said, "I love you brother, you'll be alright."
I said, "Thank you DiMarino. I love you too brother."
I put my book away, picked up my back-pack, and rose out of my seat. I
took a few steps and turned around, still a smile as broad as could be
on my face. Our eyes met once again and he smiled back and nodded in affirmation
as if to say,..."go on". I walked down the length of the car as I then
felt somewhat uneasy, a little eerie. I wanted to turn around again and
take one more look back, as if to make sure he was still there indeed.
I had an awful thought for just a moment that I may have imagined this
entire conversation. I wanted to look behind me, but I didn't dare. I
wanted to look at my book, but it was in my bag. A thought flashed through
my mind of me sitting there on a train talking to some 'ghost" for the
past half hour. I got to the end of the car and just smiled again, shaking
my head as if to tell myself to cut it out, what a foolish thought. Yet,
I still didn't dare turn. I stood facing the door. The train came to a
stop, I got off and didn't turn around until the train had passed me by.
I stood in the middle of the tracks, feeling the vibrations as the train
pulled out. It then disappeared through the snow that had just begun to
fall. Around the corner, under the bridge, ....out of sight and sound.
My knees began to shake and a rush of compassion feel over me like a storm.
I just stood there in the middle of these train tracks in the darkness
with tears rolling down my face. I could not understand, but yet I did.
I did not know why, but yet I knew. I did not know him, but yet I did.
I turned to walk home, hurried inside, turned on my computer, and began
The timing, the vibrations, the knowing, the expectancy. The recognition
and the patterns. They all are increasing in transmissions as of late.
I have recently asked for guidance and just earlier today I prayed. I
prayed for Spirit not to give up on me, to not leave me here alone. To
send me a sign for I was fearing that I have been drifting further away.
I was struggling in the midst of a duality. Being pulled down, twisted
and tested, drifting further from the oneness I was so attuned too not
so long ago. Hanging on to the words that my teacher had told me, "Learn
to live in a world, within a world. You are in this world,...but not of
Today I was
sent an angel as a physical being. A gentle, encouraging, reassuring spirit.
I am grateful. At very least, he is who he said he was, and someday I'll
buy myself a new mercedes! With that thought I then grabbed my bag and
opened my book, and sure enough, it was still there. It was indeed.
End of Journal Entry
I "bumped" into Mr. Dimarino once again about a month later. Although
not as intense, there was one significant detail that stands out from
the second "chance" meeting. I began to tell him of the adventures and
purpose of my first visit to California and how I hoped to return soon.
I had taken out a photograph to show him of the area in which I was to
visit. He took the photograph and held it up to his forehead, his 'third
eye". After a second or two, he handed it back to me and quickly prompted,
"It is done. All that you seek,..will be done".
A couple months later I was to return to California for ten days. Then
once again six months later, spending almost a year on top of a mountain
camp to experience the most intense interactions to date in the Sierra's,
including an Easter Sunday I will never forget. What transpired ultimately
takes on a much more encompassing significance with a trip to Joshua Tree,
California one year later in April of 2000. In hindsight, so much that
has been written in these journals has now been understood and come to
pass through the most profound ways. The more that was realized, the further
the story goes back in time. Perhaps lifetimes. Three years and forty
thousand miles of traveling the country from New England to Florida, to
Tennessee, to California and back again. Pages and pages of writing journals
in tents, cabins, trailors, planes, buses and cars. Being told to keep
hours and hours of audio, images, messages and insights for documentation.
At times, being played out like a real life "Celestine Prophecy."
What was it
all for, .....only time would tell.
Introduction to Part Three;
"Return of the White Dove"
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Awakening of an American Artist