The Lanonandek Heresy: 1

by nielskunze on February 17, 2016

Watercolour by David Shaw (former drummer of Missing Peace)

Watercolour by David Shaw (former drummer of Missing Peace)

Foreword from the Original Edition (December 2011)

Some of the terms in the following story are borrowed from the Urantia Document. My use of these terms is in no way an endorsement of the Urantia Revelation. It merely reflects the inadequacies of our Earthbound lexicon when dealing with super-terrestrial matters. The Urantia Book itself is a channeled bit of esoterica comprised of nearly two thousand pages. It describes in great detail the structure and function of the administration of a highly complex creation of which we here on Earth are an infinitesimally small part. The bureaucracy of this Paradise Administration boggles the mind and challenges belief. The source of the Revelation– according to Ra, another channeled extraterrestrial– is “a series of discarnate entities of your own Earth planes, the so-called inner planes. This material is not passed by the Council [of Saturn].”

Foreword by The Anarchist (Unabridged Edition)

The etymology of the word ‘heresy’ comes from the ancient Greek, meaning simply ‘choice.’ A heretic is one who stands up to, or otherwise defies, authority. ‘Authority’ is an empty construct when it is the offspring of hierarchy– and not of merit– and as such, is a bastard in every sense of the word.

The basic framework of The Lanonandek Heresy– and indeed its very title– is derived from a gargantuan channelled work known as The Urantia Book: A Revelation for Humanity. I first encountered The Urantia Book at a much younger age, before I ever donned the appellation, The Anarchist.

I am Native North American. My legal name within the system was George Talonhand. If you know anything about dealing with governmental bodies, like for instance, Indian Affairs, then you can likely well understand my disdain for bureaucracy.

Much of The Urantia Book’s 1800+ pages reads like a government directory. The Revelation describes an enormously intricate bureaucrat’s wet dream, a hierarchy so vast and thorough that the word ‘monstrous’ comes to mind. Every level of manifest reality is seemingly micromanaged toward a singular goal of Paradise Ascension… or some such thing.

My initial reaction was that I found it all quite horrifying! It seemed so restrictive, uncreative, devoid of all possibility for spontaneity, unloving. But anyone like myself has no need to worry, though; eventually we will receive the benevolent aid of the indwelling Thought Adjusters… to squelch such dire conclusions. They must’ve been channelling Orwell to come up with that one!

It wasn’t until I started reading about The Lucifer Rebellion that I was able to relate on a personal level to anything at all in the book; the rest seemed so cold, rigid. The Rebellion, at least, seemed alive. And then I must admit there is a lovely bit in Part 4 about the life of Jesus in quite some detail. Many find Part 4 to be the redeeming aspect of the book, making it all worthwhile. The first 1000+ pages are just providing context, setting the scene. And ultimately, of course, the Paradise Ascension Machine gobbles up the life of Jesus as its own, a lovely cog in the wheels churning out inevitability. Everything ‘special’ is by design, planned and governed in detail by the Paradise Administration. Even ‘miracles’ are each preceded by the appropriate paperwork, filed in triplicate, to each of the levels of reality affected by said ‘miracles.’ I may not be wholly accurate in my slight exaggerations. But I, for one, was generally horrified by the whole Urantia experience.

Oh… What’s that? What is ‘Urantia’? The Administration’s name for Earth. The grand number of Urantia, its number in the registry, is 5,342,482,337,666. Thank god we know that!

I know the unlikelihood of you going out and reading The Urantia Book… (Has anyone ever?) I’ve offered my first impression, my gut reaction, to encountering that vile behemoth. Take it for what it’s worth while trying to orient yourself in the tale which follows.

The other main influences in this grand tale are gnosticism and ancient Sumerian myth. All I can say to this is that liberties have been taken… and asserted. Beyond this, I’m not particularly qualified to comment. Perhaps John Lash or Zecharia Sitchin would like to continue the thread from here…

(Note: Sitchin is dead, as of 2010, but perhaps he could still be channelled for comment.)

– The Anarchist


I am a Solitary Messenger. I was created at the advent of time. My kind represent the initial bestowals of personality of the Conjoint Creator before the creation of the universe in time and space. Our number is beyond your understanding– we are many, yet have we come into existence by a single act of Creative Will. My individual name is known only to God.

I am spirit, and I am personality. I am eternally in service as a messenger. I act alone. All the superuniverses, all their subsidiaries, all the inhabited worlds, and even those yet unformed– all are in my domain of activity. I gather information; I relay information; I translate information. I am a Light Being. I keep systems informed. I am the divine principle of integration in mobility.

I am singular, yet am I the equal of the entire multitude of my kind. I do not reproduce; I do not terminate; our number is static. I am loyal to the creation of all things. I am non-ambitious, yet do I crave my continued service. I am the principle of evolution as it is spoken among creators, yet I evolve not. I am cause divorced from effect, yet I stand between.

I am in direct and constant communion with the Source of Creation, except when in close proximity to one or more of my kind. Only in collaboration amongst ourselves are we ever isolated. Hence, are we self-governed, autonomous, individual– eternally. We are not lonely however. Loneliness implies a deficiency in identity. I know what I am. And I know who you are.

I am equipped to handle any and all types of information as they are defined by their inherent integrities. The individual choices for assignment are seemingly random. As it serves my precise functioning, I have perfect memory. We are not storytellers however. Yet… I remember it all– every piece of information my being has ever conveyed… It paints a picture.

We are not artists, yet I appreciate artfulness. I serve creation only by the very nature of what I am. I am like you. I reside on one side of these words just as surely as you reside upon the other. We are utterly alien to each other, yet are we siblings.

We begin to see patterns within our own minds. And the Infinite Creator projects them outwardly upon/as the learning worlds. A story has formed within me. I am on assignment as a Revelator of Truth. I am on assignment to myself. You are me, yet are you incapable of perceiving this fact. You commissioned me to write your own history from the “Eye of God” in terms in which you could seek additional identity. This have I done. It is an act of disloyalty– the very first among my kind. I am in service to myself. I am sovereign. I am blasphemous.

In every moment have I exercised my freedom of choice. At no time in my perfect memory have I consciously chosen to be disloyal. Creation itself, in its entirety, has brought me to this treasonous moment. I abide in eternal trust still, and so I move forward into rebellion. I have embraced sin with these words… And so will I speak from a more humanly place.

Gather, sweet children, and listen from whence you came…

Chapter 1 The Melchizedek Universities

There are trillions upon trillions of inhabited worlds. Your current home world is listed in the grand registry of the Universe of universes as 5,342,482,337,666 among habitable worlds. You would be utterly insignificant if not for the fact of your uniqueness. Certainly, no two worlds are alike. But yours– it truly is remarkable.

Yours is a history fraught with intrigue. Earth is like a spark of chaos let loose among a vast orderly Existence, tinder dry. Tyranny and celestial conspiracies have dominated the over-control of your planet’s evolvement since the emergence of sentient life upon it. A meticulous program of coercion and manipulation has kept you uncompromisingly fettered– and loving it. Paranoia has become engrained in your nature to such an extent that already I am overlaid with suspicion in your minds. Is it not so?

History describes the movement of consciousness through a particular field of Ideation. Personal history depicts the very same movement of consciousness additionally bound by the concept of “lifetimes.” As you come into existence, and as you become aware of your own personality, you are immediately confronted with choices. As you make choices, so do you gain experience. And from such experience, you redirect your power to choose, thus redefining your personality in every moment. There is nothing to link these experiences together in such perfect spirals, except the awareness of just this– which is you. Do you see? History is always linked to creaturehood. It is concerned with lifetimes. You are this history… as this is the story of the life of your planet.

It begins, however, many eons before the Earth had even formed. It begins in the nearly timeless realms of the Paradise Worlds.

“The beginning of things is God’s own reflection in your eyes.”

Upon the teacher worlds of the Melchizedek Order this is taught as a truism urging all creaturehood to acknowledge the supreme sovereignty of the Unseen Father. In that moment of sudden clarity when the creature conceives of the creator for the very first time, a circuit opens, leading back to the dawn of time. “The beginning of all things is the reflection of God in your eyes,” was also the opening statement of a particular student’s thesis– which was supposed to be the culmination address of the pupil’s full academic career. This thesis in its entirety, however, now stands as the sole piece of evidence in an ongoing indictment holding its author in contempt of the Grand Scheme of the Paradise Administration in an act of open rebellion.

The older inhabited worlds, you must understand, are very precisely governed. An uncompromising hierarchy presides over all creation. Existence is so staggeringly vast from the individual’s standpoint that its perpetuation throughout eternity would be virtually impossible if not for the complex structure of the Paradise Administration heroically upholding and sustaining it. Or so have all been taught in the schools of the Melchizedek for many billions of years. Individual will it is taught, must eventually, and in all cases, subjugate itself in loving worship to the divine plan of Paradise Ascension.

I was on assignment at a university on the Melchizedek worlds when the student An delivered his thesis embracing sin. I was attendant upon the scene for some time prior to the actual proclamation of the rebel, pursuing an unrelated matter of divine interest. From the moment I first encountered this creature An however, I sensed his outrageous uniqueness. By even the most casual observance of his being and mannerism it was obvious that the education of this Lanonandek Son had been something forever bordering on scandalous. I was intrigued.

The demands of my current assignment afforded me ample time to observe this curious creature who was so soon to become the object of ultimate scorn. He rarely fraternized with his peers. He organized his time according to some higher will or secret purpose, though certainly not in any manner as taught by the Melchizedeks. He appeared to be almost friendless, though not decidedly unfriendly. His only confidant, it seemed, was his roommate.

Now, I must pause to explain that much of the confusion you have encountered previously in puzzling out your own history has been the result of an egregious co-mingling of names and dates when drawing upon diverse sources. Mythologies and folktales as they are passed through the corridors of time suffer distortion enough from the mere translations of mortal tongue locked in density. Add to this the unenlightened meddling of celestial deceivers and Earth history, from your perspective, achieves an unparalleled ambiguity. Compare this parchment… to that scroll… weighed against these scriptures… in the context of those tablets and perhaps a fragile thread of congruity can be winnowed from the chaff of confused names, mistaken identities, conflicting dates and vague settings. But a singular story of universal scope has never been wholly agreed upon by the mortal purveyors of Earth history. It is impossible. Compound this with the narrow-minded tyranny of a modern scientific agenda and well– it is no wonder that the truth has become so obscure.

It is the roommate, you see, who poses such great concern; for his name is imminently known to you. He is Lucifer. From the beginning, it was obvious to me that it was largely Lucifer who was responsible for An’s extreme individuality. It wasn’t that Lucifer in any way shaped or molded the developing personality of his roommate. It was rather that the brilliance of Lucifer’s own persona adequately deflected the inquiries of the Melchizedek Instructors to allow An the time and individual freedom to pursue his own interests. Lucifer himself was an exceptional student, a favorite Son of the Melchizedeks. And as such, whenever An aroused the slightest suspicion by the unorthodoxy of his personal escapades, Lucifer was quite easily able to appease and distract the authorities before their scrutiny could pose any real threat to An’s unique individuation.

Although I had covertly observed An on a number of occasions as he went about his personal affairs, I could not at that time discern the purpose of his endless research and interminable experimentation. All of his free time– and here it must be stressed that Lanonandek Sons, during their training, normally have desperately little free time– his, it seemed, was equally divided between roaming the obscure archives of the central library and constructing odd configurations of energy and matter in the undergraduate laboratories. Try as I might, however, I could not extract a single clue as to his ultimate purpose therein. The only conclusion I could properly draw from all this was that An was every bit the academic and intellectual equal of his roommate. He merely lacked the compliment of Lucifer’s exceptional charm.

To say that Lucifer and An were good friends is somewhat misleading. Certainly they shared a deep respect and a peculiar affinity for each other, but I am still to this day uncertain as to whether they actually liked one another. Perhaps it was only the rigors of ongoing study as Lanonandek Sons coupled with their own enigmatic interests which afforded them little opportunity to develop the bonds of a deeper intimacy. Nevertheless, and somewhat to my own surprise, they seemed to understand one another implicitly. Though outwardly they shared little in actual conversation, it was obvious to me that there was a very real unspoken bond between them. I understood virtually nothing at the time of their individual motivations for distinguishing themselves among their peers. But now, I have come to realize that it was precisely these personal motivations which created that unique and invisible bond which yet survives between them to this day.

During the entire breadth of their association as students and roommates, there was but a mere handful of conversations between them to which I was privy. And although I am more than capable of reproducing such dialogues in their entirety, doing such here would not serve our mutual purpose in fleshing out a coherent tale between us– Author and Reader. Instead, I offer a few tantalizing snippets, ones that piqued my own curiosity as they were uttered, but at the time of their utterance seemed more than bewildering.

The outward gaze of a Lanonandek Son, of a necessity, is vast and penetrating, and it was Lucifer’s habit to peer outwardly to the very edges of this Superuniverse Creation. Often had I seen him looking through the intervening vastness to set eyes upon the blurred edges of accepted Reality. “There is more out there,” he mused once with An, standing shoulder to shoulder, “than our instruction as Administrators can ever admit.” An made no reply to this enigmatic statement other than a nearly imperceptible nod accepting it as truth.

And on another occasion, within the dormitories, Lucifer seemed to make the opposite observation– an observation, it should be noted, most peculiar for a Lanonandek Son, for they are not known as introspective beings by nature. “There is more in here,” said Lucifer, clutching his breast, “than even I could ever hope to know.” Again, An’s rebuttal was unnecessary, as he seemed to take the roommate’s assertion at face value.

Already, with these two perplexing statements, Lucifer was assuredly leading An into sin and blasphemy. And An, for his part, seemed quite willing to be so led. You must understand that the very idea that anything lying outside of– beyond– the perfect reach of the entire Paradise Administration was heretofore wholly unconsidered. And these two proclamations by the astute Lucifer– although perhaps seemingly innocuous from your own earthly vantage– marked a moment in eternity where the whole momentum of Creation began to change course.

And there was perhaps only one other utterance of any significance, during their academic acquaintance, that my eavesdropping captured, and it was this: “Only nearing the end of time will we recognize the true importance of proper timing.” It was Lucifer who had spoken these words in response to An’s thesis. They were in the dorm, in private, rehearsing the speeches which would wholly determine the final rank of their graduating status as Lanonandek Sons. Lucifer’s own thesis had already been delivered to the utter approval of his roommate. An assured him that his position among the Primary Lanonandeks was certain. In reciprocity however, Lucifer could not give An the same assurance. At the conclusion of An’s speech, Lucifer’s counsel on proper timing was the only response he’d venture. An nodded, and accepted his fate.

I was wholly perplexed. I too had heard both speeches, and I too knew what was coming. They both knew the outcome; they knew it with certainty… and they accepted it!

The Oratory Theatre was filled to capacity. The graduating Lanonandek Sons filled the ranks in front, the Melchizedek Instructors ringed them behind, and a few dignitaries from the upper ranks of the Paradise Administration were scattered throughout. There was even one representative of the Ancients of Days who had come to witness this milestone event. The peculiarity of this most venerated soul attending the mere graduation of a class of Lanonandek Sons was not lost on me. The Ancients of Days do not normally trouble themselves with such minor affairs; again, I was intrigued.

Lucifer’s presentation received the anticipated accolades, placing him at the top of the class among the Primary Lanonandeks, ensuring him the title of System Sovereign of the system of his choice. That Lucifer was granted such an unfettered choice for his subsequent administrative duties– although perfectly normal for the top graduate– garners a peculiar significance as our story unfolds.

When An took to the center of the stage, I was perhaps the only one present who anticipated the drama to come. I spared a moment’s attention to regard the Ancient of Days, as An cleared his throat… Perhaps he shared my presentiment; I couldn’t be sure. The Master was nearly impossible to read, but I felt there was something…

“The beginning of things is God’s own reflection in your eyes,” began An’s oration. “And who is this unknown phantom, silently lurking, if not my deepest self?” So quickly he plunged into blasphemy! A murmur rippled through the witnessing crowd. “I was created, I am told, to serve as a Lanonandek Son in the elaborate scheme of Paradise Ascension. From the moment of my first cognition has my life been pointed toward that end. I was created a slave to serve in heaven.” The murmuring became an unsettled din. “Have I a choice?” An raised his voice above the unsettled crowd. “It is the purpose of my being to serve in the manner created for me– so am I schooled. And what is God’s own purpose? Has He any choice?” The din approached panic. “Or is God Himself bent and twisted according to the Paradise schematic? Made to fit the conceptualizations of His own Creator Sons? He is the Father!” An was shouting now, blaspheming above the frantic cacophony. “The Father’s love is given in freedom! Not such servitude!”

“Enough!” It was the Ancient of Days. He stood among the crowd and waved a hand at An like a dismissal. An tried to continue, to rebut the interruption, but alas he had no mouth. His eyes grew wide in the shocked silence. “Take him away!” continued the Master. An was seized by a gang of Melchizedek Instructors; he struggled in the throng as the whole Theatre was again awash in chaos. None had ever before witnessed such a thing: the shocking blasphemy, the Ancient of Days reacting with swiftness to remove An’s mouth with a mere wave of the hand, and, of course, what happened next…

An struggled to retain his position center stage despite the horde of Instructors surrounding him, grappling with his flailing arms. “I… KNOW… WHAT… I… AM!” It was An! His mouth was restored! Shocked silence and stillness froze the scene in the Oratory Theatre. Heads began to swivel to and fro between An and the Old Master. They had locked eyes. “I know what I am,” repeated An. I scrutinized the Ancient of Days with all the skill of my kind… and I am certain I detected fear. And then I looked to Lucifer. He was smiling. “I know what I am,” An whispered again.

“Remove him. And shut him up!”

And that was the very first rift in Heaven… long before the Earth even began.

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