Millennium Prophecies (1995 paperback version)
I bought this little book from The College of Psychic Studies Library in 2007, after it was withdrawn from circulation. There had been only two times that someone had borrowed it, with due dates of 07 Jan 2002 and 02 Feb 2007.
So, a not very popular library book, obviously.
And yet, the subject matter has longed proved a fascination for a great many people.
The Year 2000
Leading up to the end of the 20th century, people were sure that this year would signal the end of the world, or at least the end of our computer systems. Previous versions of operating systems used the last two digits of the year in their programming. That spelled potential doom for personal computers the world over. So, the bright sparks who sold computers decided to use the fear of failure to get everyone updated.
The unfortunate consequence was that everyone expected that airlines and other public services would be at risk of failing at midnight on 31 Dec 1999. (“Let’s party like it’s 1999” took on an extra meaning.) As each timezone clicked over to 1 Jan 2000, people held their breath. Would the Machine Stop? Uh, no.
I have long followed this astrologer. His Life*Time method of dating events in the birth chart has helped me understand the cyclical nature of time. He readily admits, in this book, that certain planets in aspect give us hints for the future, but we cannot really see what happens until after the events pass.
As this book was originally written in 1992, Mann seems to focus a lot of his attention on the breakup of the Soviet Union, but that’s to be expected. It was those ‘current’ events which may have inspired him to write about prophecy. After all, Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce got there first, but even they got it wrong sometimes.
Jung’s Seven Sermons to the Dead
My reason for reviewing this little book here is one long quotation from Carl Jung:
The language of the sermons is very much like the late Roman Gnostic texts studied by Jung and the voices are prophetic. A portion of the seventh sermon reads like a biblical prophecy.
At immeasurable distance stands one single Star in the zenith.
In this world is man Abraxas, the creator and the destroyer of his own world.
This Star is the god and the goal of man.
This is his one guiding god. In him goeth man to his rest. Toward him goeth the long journey of the soul after death. In him shineth forth as light all that man bringeth back from the greater world. To this one god man shall pray.
Prayer increaseth the light of the Star. It casteth a bridge over death. It prepareth life for the smaller world and assuageth the hopeless desires for the greater.
When the greater world waxeth cold, burneth the Star.
Between man and his one god there standeth nothing, so long as man can turn away his eyes from the flaming spectacle of Abraxas.
Man here, god there.
Weakness and nothingness here, there eternally creative power.
Here nothing but darkness and chilling moisture. There wholly sun.
Whereupon the dead were silent and ascended like the smoke above the herdsman’s fire, who through the night kept watch over his flock. (page 93)
I often wonder why I read things in a specific sequence. Yesterday, I wrote about the Impossible Dream. The final line may have been the reason for my dream, the night before.
“To reach…the unreachable star.”
Need I say more?