The texts of Jan-Anton van Hoek, especially ‘Meeting in Ancient Places’ are not easy to read. You must be a spiritual seeker. Some of his cosmogenic texts are accounts of real happenings, but some of their contents might have been mythologized. Van Hoek’s use of language (originally in Dutch) is also not always easy. He is well versed in the literary sense, but he also writes from an exalted state of mind, and he writes about concepts that are often strange for the uninitiated. Please read slowly and use your intuition to fill in the gaps of your understanding. I am not going to interpret what he is writing about. You have to find out for yourself what is in these texts. In the age of TV and internet where the attention span is only a couple of seconds long, these texts will bring you back to spiritual depths and expanded consciousness.
Meeting in Ancient Spaces
Unforgettable is the hour when you approached me with outstretched hands, when we allowed our fingers to be touched, our hands palms sliding over each other, until the finger tips moved the little depression at the wrist, and the shout of joy expressed our friendship. The heavenly gaze in your seeker’s eyes, as it was so much part of you, had made room for an ironic clearness of knowing and of having forgotten what is not worth to remember.
I knew you from innumerable cosmic years, that you and I have seen going by, even before the misery arose on the earth world which you had already left, and on which I still wander around.
Far from being a dry preacher, that you became against the wishes of many, you have always been a seer, more than it was visible from the letter of your earthly language. And far from being a cynical skeptic, that image was attached to me, I have been an understandable person and translator throughout the ages.
Forget for a moment the norm to which we are subject: The demands of the shortcomings of our language; the demands of smoothing the words; the demands to be a support of superficiality, where vulgar wisdom is already enough for satisfaction!
In an instant our universe-flame was stirred. Our stellar fate, having been sealed millennia ago, started to fulfill itself: what you lack I have, what I don’t have I find in you.
Are you Hod, I am Baldr. Once you killed me with your branch of mistletoe. Now, after the night that followed the evening of the Gods, you are seeing, and I -with my light drained, for all beings to shine- have been reborn in order to recreate the Grail to truth with you and all of our Circle, and also to soak all who are born of the spirit with my thankfulness and opinion.
In these sentences, Rudolf, we will meet each other. These sentences are the mother’s belly of our emotional sound. That what will reach the ears of man, must be born of good origin and nurtured by the dream, the dream which is truth and which strengthens all righteous values. Thus your seed is my egg. My rain makes the germ, which you sowed, burst open. Without my sun, your plant cannot grow or bear fruit. May its foliage bear heavily its buds of your clever spirit. What for you is a question is for me an answer, but many things withheld from me -withheld by the flesh- you will communicate to me. We are part of each other as spiritual beings in this and in the other world. The dust of stars from which have have been made, prevent us from temporary illusion. Thus knowing, we are a beacon. If one of us is a buoy, the other is the light beam for the ships.
We cannot continue like this. The temptation is too great to exploit the possibilities of language. Writing in alliterations may be purely vanity, but it wouldn’t matter much, as long as the words translate that which we both have to say.
After what I could call the ecstasy of what I could call our meeting again, images glide by by in my spirit. Images I don’t see in dreams, but which I see in full and waking consciousness, and express as an eye-witness. Maybe they hold a message, maybe they are just evocations.
We have in common the art of exploring past times. We are connected without interruption with that nourishing source. Because we have similar thoughts – relying on that great Underground which is the origin of all spiritual life- we must again express this in words, or at least approach it. We must not withhold this nourishing source from the thirsty people of tomorrow.
We penetrate and transgress through the Times from the One to the One. The first One is from long time ago, the last One is what will be, that is, Light after the last grain of dirt, dried to dust, will have fallen down, without hinder, and merged with the reflection of the light that it sought to cloud.
The first reasonable civilization of higher people which have existed out in space has never been equaled, we both know that. The emigrants who have survived the terrible catastrophe of Perk’oedhagh, have fertilized the human race, but were able to civilize it.
The super race -corporeal and multiplied ‘super-I’ – has never existed on this earth, as the Higher blood, in its small supply, lost itself in the massive artery fluid of slaves and their brutal oppressors. The holy Drop of golden monarchial blood became a myth, the ideal of ancient cultures and a topic of interested writers like Couperus, whose enlightened spirit could imagine the mystery of the gold Drop and partly translate it.
Nothing may be further away from me -as a book writer- than any sensationalism. However, I do feel that -by the fact that these sentences will appear under the eyes of man- these words may be explained wrongly and that this will often be the case. It cannot be prevented. Science fiction is not my business, although I do not lament science fiction. Parapsychology is not my way of expression, although I don’t know what to call it.
One can blame me for whatever: deceit, illusion, a writer’s cleverness. I just have to take it as it is.
But now we talk about Then! Understand it who can understand it, and may the Gods be with us. You my Brother and I will lift the veil of many a big Secret that has been the Holy of Holy throughout all the World Years. And let it be, in this Last World Year that is dawning, a revelation.
The four dynasties of Perk’oedhagh were like four seasons. The fourth season was like winter, because when the civilization of of world emperors was decapitated, the ruler of the cosmos held his breath and doom descended on each crown which would be carried in the milky way. Ah, Perk’oedhagh -smashed into thousands meteors, even the myriads of mûgal birds disappeared into the ash! Race-depopulated, perverted by the underbeingness, lost, with a gigantic explosion after centuries of gasping erosion. Your life beings dispersed throughout all directions of the universe, not able to reunite, irretrievably expelled, justified or innocent! Rudolf, you understand this, you can see, you know Perk’oedhagh whose upper vicar you were when my scepter went down in the doom of the hordes. The four part sonata of Perk’oedhagh, with the mystical patterns of this great and noble musical form. You inspirator: it probably will be one of the monologues from my mouth, filling this book, but I am secretary of both of us.
The first dynasty of Perk’oedhagh was founded by him who is called “God”, but who was simply called Per: from him we don’t know anything. The times were icy, and it wasn’t until the thirteenth emperor that the climate became milder. What does it matter if this statement has been written down in annals or that it is legend?
The emperors, who had the title of civikan, should be seen as models of many forms of Gods that the emigrants presented to the inhabitants if the earth, and with which they soon would be personified. Their names are still loud cosmic resonances, and he who is able to listen, can hear them.
Especially the last cikivani of the first period were the founders of the blossom of the civilization of Perk’oedhagh. Monarchs of spring who laid the foundation, under whose rule the foliage became green, the blossom got color and the fruit started to bud. When the last emperor, after a rulership of several decennia, died without leaving any children, the vaja -the eligible aristocracy of Perk’oedhagh- choose one of theirs for cikivan. With him, the full blossom of the Holy empire started, the time of art and science, of civilization, but also the subjugation of other people on the inhabited part of the dhagh.
It was during the ruler ship of emperor Tcikhank’oe, that the ‘marl‘ (=magician) Hcaimng foresaw an invasion of the hordes: unspeakable wild, in human being incarnated destructive forces present on the dhagh.
Knowing that it was not possible to control these hordes, he spoke to the emperor: “Let the Cikivan call the birds formed out of clay and light, and feathered by the wind! Let him order me to call them to our rescue!”
Although he didn’t understand it, Tcikhank’oe complied, and Hcaimng traveled to the Blue Mountains, and called to heaven: “Oh eternal hungry Birds, I am your food! Eat me!”
Numerous big birds landed around him. Some were like eagles, but fair of color, those were the leaders. Others were white and tufted, those were the intellectuals and priests. The ones which were fair-red and bristly were their warriors, feared in war. The artists and dancers were long feathered and golden colored.
Hcaimng spoke: “Who is your queen?”
At the same moment a white bird of unusual beauty landed near him: “I am their queen”.
“Eat me, so I can perish and rebirth myself, feeding your subjects,” the marl said.
Thus it happened. After Hcaimng had fed the last bird, he rebirthed himself and said: “Now I am in all of you and I have conquered you. Now, you are my servants.”
The birth could not deny that this was the case. They followed the marl to the court of the emperor.
“I have brought you numerous help, which will serve you in my name, oh cikivan!!”, Hcaimng said, “Feed them and they will help you to dispel the hordes.”
Thus the emperor did: he conquered the hordes of men, imposed tribute, and lived in peace thereafter.
But Hcaimng died before the end of the battle, because he decided that his body had suffered enough. He was only able to prevent his pain by being in trance. Emperor Tcikhank’oe build a holy shrine for Hcaimng. In later times, emperor Raihi’kwoth declared him a divinity.
Since the deed of Hcaimng the birds, which are know as the Mûghal, formed an integral part of the history of Perk’oedhagh.
A remarkable story is the one that was considered a legend already during the Holy empire. According to this account the Mûghal queen Seppeth would have mated with Tcikhank’oe, and she would have born him a sun, who had the body of a man and the head of a Mûghal. His name was Tças’hir.
Another story speaks of him as the founder of a whole series of Bird-headed people. The last of their descendants was also called Tças’hir. This one led the emigrants away from the splintering Perk’oedhagh. Both figures were both confused with other and often identified with each other. The last source also dates from the time on earth.
Again the images become confused. Again I concentrate in order to weave together the pieces, with your friendly help – in order to disentangle the knots and separate visions from illusions. At such moments I have to stop writing and distance myself from this work.
Bedazzling is sometimes the similarity between the history of Perk’oedhagh and its four dynasties, and the four worlds, respectively those of the Demons, Gods, Nature Spirits and Monarch-men.
Let us beware for such literally “truths”! You know as well as I do that this can give way to nonsensical and even hysterical “spiritual knowledge”. Nobody and nothing has any value with a “parallel history” or a “complementary history”, even more so because by themselves they don’t contain any lesson. I do not want to fill the holes between cosmic happenings and written “history” -that would never be possible. That is not why I want to write down the digressions about Perk’oedagh. I do because there must be a causal link between the Original and the Following. Thus I want to avoid the mistake of parapsychology -pseudo-empirism. Thus you and I have decided a long time ago to build our reports organically.
Some generations after Raihi’kwoth the second dynasty of Perk’oedagh died. From a female sideline -the Holy people only knew a limited patriarchy- came the third house of emperors. This third House was a fine, refined race in the higher circles of the empire. This was the time of deification of the imperial dignity. Although the cikivani were light emperors and thus in flesh incarnated Gods, their dignity now became a certainty amidst their subjects, but also in the eyes of the tamed people and the slaves. Even the hordes did not doubt the divinity of the cikivan; one must honor and obey them, and it was undisputable to subjugate one’s spiritual and worldly decisions and commands. This was not seen as a sign of inferiority. The best example of this dependency was the vaja, the “pairs” of the empire, who very close in power to the emperor, but who would bend without hesitation to the emperor’s dignity. The incarnated majesty of the cikivani was that strong in the third dynasty.
On the dagh the following structure existed. In Scaiçoên the emperor ruled; the vaja ruled in the provinces; in the subjugated areas autochthonic rulers ruled under the supervision of an Iwa, a procurator appointed by the cikivan. Only the hordes were truly anarchistic. They only had a vague tribal sense. The rapacious gangs were held in check by their magicians and family elders. Their superstitious belief made them pay tribute to the Xidiborüng, the name they gave to cikivani, meaning “the Lord of the Birds”, since emperor Tcikhank’oe subjugated them with the help of the Mûghal birds.
For this purpose they visited Scaiçoên each year and gave the imperial treasurer beer, kbing (a kind of wild sheep), dried fruit of the fields and cultural objects like fossil resins, metals, mlëng (coral) etc. The the cikivan gave audience to two of their ral (the heads of the caravan). Then the emperor received ten women as a gift. In exchange he gave the ral his blessing, one by one, and gave them a golden staff and send these wild people, shaken by superstitious fear and adoration, back to their tribes.
All this sounds a bit idealistic, but emperor Mrihjamvic from the third dynasty was heavily offended when the hordes didn’t pay him tribute in a given year. In the couple of hundred years before certain forces seem to have broken the anarchism of the hordes to have founded a protopolitical tribal connection -although temporary- by which certain tribes chose a hrix (=a chief). This hrix -his name is not known-, acted on his own behalf. When the tribute didn’t happen a second time, Mrihjamvic gathered the troops and matched to the lands of the hordes. The Mûghal, who were great in numbers, punished the hordes in such a drastically way that nothing of them was left but clean picked bones.
The good emperor Mrihjamvic was very sad about this, and cried. Kai-Hídam, the general of the Mûghal spoke to the emperor: “May the cikivan not shed tears, but let us build a dam that the hordes cannot cross, because they will seek revenge, and they can pay their tribute at the entrance of the empire.”
The cikivan relied that this would raise new hate and reproached Kai-Hídam. But Kai-Hídam blew fire through his nostrils and said: “By Seppeth who linked us once to you: I am advising you honestly and as a real and only friend!”
The emperor understood and he decided as Kai-Hídam had advised him. By this a long lasting peace was established.
The hordes called themselves Mrihjamvic -by this obtaining an identity- in remebrance to their hrix, who, after the course of the rebellion, was convicted to death by emperor Mrihjamvic, and he was burned between two bronze plates until he died. By the new measures of tribute the hrixin stated to alienate themselves more and more from the court.
Doom announced itself for those who were able to understand.
Pünt’ch, who was marl during the reign of emperor Rangkoe’at, did not loose any opportunity to shout conjuring sounds in the emperor’s ear, but it was in vain. Anyway, who would have listened? The power and wealth were unequaled, and technology was far ahead of anything that had ever been!
I am seeing it on your lips, my dear friend: it is for sure a question of mentality, which makes the technology of the earth “of today” so destructive. You are surely right!
When we look at Perk’oedhagh at the time of Rangk’oe’at and his successors, then we do not see anything about exploitation of the planet into the absurd, no adoration of technique, no monetary or ideological power games around the technique. Technology had to serve mankind of that era under the patronage of and to the glory of the emperor.
How far has mankind degenerated, compared with those ancient times. Ach Rudolf, do you know, do I know? What do the earthly devils want with the powers they unleash! Oh yes, on Perk’oedhagh these powers were also unleashed by fallible beings, but they acted on behalf of their wise emperor, who commanded them a “pull back!” and led their consciousness. They were penetrated by a total cosmic importance instead of by self delusion and greed, and this put the heaviest weight in the scale.
Don’t curl your small lips, oh brother! You know that this was the case, we both have seen it ourselves. Technologically, Perk’oedhagh reached it climax during the third dynasty. Although many inventions were improved in later times, and new amazing results would see the light, the great Equilibrium between technology and nature that existed during the autumn period of the Holy empire, would perish completely after the end of the dynasty. Never would there be a similar technological civilization in any world with similar inhabitants. I don’t want to fall into fantastic looking revelations. I will limit myself to the fact that each technological problem that has existed or shall exist on earth, had been solved on Perk’oedhagh before the end of the third dynasty, and was never reported again. The imperial scientists were able to stabilize the humidity and temperature in their empire, thus creating a reliable, healthy climate, in which both man, animal and plant thrived.
Hunger was an unknown concept, even outside the empire, because the subjugated people, and even the hrixin (the hordes), took advantage of it, because they received the rich surplus in exchange for all kind of natural products. The symbiosis between the people of the empire and the subjugated people reached a climax in this era.
Closely connected with this period of prosperity in the empire is the name of emperor Hmarsisin, whose reign ended the third dynasty at the height of its splendor. However, doom started to show before the eyes of the marl Kanhic’ci during the fourth dynasty which lasted a couple of hundred years. He announced the last generation of emperors of Perk’oedhagh: ” Oh hear with hearts of grief: Cikivan left behind the fleshly coat of his divinity, and no descendant will reign after him, thus we will choose a new cikivan. The autumn period of our empire has rung its last sound, now the winter will start! Be strong in the disaster!”
How many have understand his visionary words? The people mourned according to custom for the dead emperor, and the vaja choose a new one, who founded the fourth dynasty. When the mourning was over, the new cikivan was inaugurated with a lot of splendor. The leaders of all the subjugated tribes were present, full of admiration, and so were the hrixi of the Hordes who had brought brown-white chaï skins, prepared with honey (chaï=a kind of giant marten) to lay at the feet of the Xidiborüng.
I now see only dark times ahead. Apparently the fourth Empire also flourished but it was already rotting at the root. It is difficult to look back, you and I, to the awful fate of this last civilization.
Nor you, oh Rudolf, nor I, have ever had peace after that. Not one of us has ever been able to use the pen, because in the previous World Year it was taboo to mention it. But now, in the New World Year, our hearts and tongues are free and we will not be silent anymore. You are saying it, and I am repeating it. I proclaim and you confirm, my brother!
Let the word be spoken, truth! Let everybody hear what had been cosmically hidden for numerous years, and it will be written by me, openly: the story of the last Emperor and of the last High priest of Perk’oedhagh.
The rapidly deterioration of the imperial authority led to awful situations during the fourth dynasty, and certainly from approximately the middle of this period. At the end emperor Dhrahicin succeeded to unite once more the entire dhagh and the subjugated tribes under his Holy scepter. When this cikivan died, he was succeeded by his weak, indolent -although very good willing- son Dink’aihoe. He was the incorporation of the approaching doom of the empire. He wanted to be Emperor, but at the same time he was too good. The empire had already been corrupted so much that only a strong hand could have prevented the all encompassing disaster by pricking the sore spots of the imperial body without hesitation. Even then he would have needed the support of a wise, resolute dâmarl, the Supreme High Priest.
Nor the cikivan, nor Dígihan, the dâmarl, were suited for the task.
What do I remember from this disaster of disasters? And you? Once united, then estranged? Now again thinking together, reflecting like over ancient Greek amphorae from a sea excavation. How old? How much covered by seaweed, and pocked by the sea? One needs to sweep away the web from the eyes, slowly; and slowly, as if unwilling, images come alive, images which one would not like to behold anymore.
Where were the overly inbred, degenerated Mûghal when the empire entered its doom? Where were their mass numbers, compared with the small number of those who remained Pure among these birds? Everything stood in the sign of decomposition of anarchy, in the sign of violence and destruction. Ah, when Per in his wisdom will once give me the sign, then I will write down the history of Perk’oedhagh in all its details, for the learning of humanity on the planet of magma, but that time is not ready yet. But this does not prevent two things: first we have to paint the demise of Perk’oedhagh, without thinking of the pain caused by remembering it. Secondly, both you and I have to confront the fact that we have to follow the settlement of what once happened, wherever it leads. One should not take into account that for me the history has once repeated itself on this planet. The only difference is that in Perk’oedhagh there was no court-physician and the end was more gruesome, but I won’t give any details here. I cannot and will not go into details about the demise of the Holy empire, the gruesome murdering of the imperial generation and the splintering of Perk’oedhagh.
Therefore I limit myself to the main points, de-personalized, leaving it to Per to once let me describe the Great Fate into the details – which I am capable to do.
In the twentieth year of Dink’aihoe’s ruler ship the hrixin (=the hordes) flood the Empire. The degenerated Mûghal did not offer resistance but stayed with their porcelain eggs. The good müghal of the old generation had to withdraw. The old order was shaking. The vaja were unreliable; they already had withdrawn themselves too much from the imperial authority. The Iwa (the heads of the autochtones areas), although loyal to the cikivan were able to master the subjugated rulers of the subjugated people, but not the uprooted tribes themselves. Thus they were slain and killed, one by one, and also the rulers who still remained loyal to the cikivan.
The entire catastrophe, coming forth from cosmic disturbances, clouded the entire dhagh. The emperor yielded his throne, but it was too late. The Hrixin flooded his palace and he was cruelly killed before the eyes of the empress.
Then the hordes killed the entire imperial family, nobody escaped. From the Old Order only you remained alive, you who escaped to the Blue Mountains, to which also the great and good Mûghal escaped.
You spoke to the Mûghal: “I am Dígivan, the dâmarl (=Supreme High Priest), listen to me, o great good Mûghal, because Cikivan has been murdered under the split hoofs of the Hrixin, and nothing remains of the Holy empire. Thus, gather yourself and rescue the Holy inscriptions of the empire. Then we shall leave the dhagh with the xelta-hüdin and their vehicles”.
Since long ago, the xelta-hüdin were the Imperial supreme servants, freeman in service of the imperial house, and architects of traffic ships from the dhagh. Tayhâhral, the lieutenant of the surviving Mûghal, and he said to you: “Oh Dígivan, Oh dâmarl, wise are your words, but look at us! Death is our emperor the damûghal. Betrayal came from the wicked among us. Ashamed are the people of the mûghal, humiliated after so many centuries of loyalty to the cikivani of Perk’oedhagh, since Seppeth and Tcikhank’toe. How shall we, whose wings overshadow the dhagh, transport your people from dhagh to dhagh? Oh how pitiful is the race of Mûghal!”
The noble Taykâhral shouted to the heavens with sorrow, while he entangled his feathers, and his followers did the same thing.
You answered: “Thus the eye of the dâmarl sees: the righteous, the few, will leave the dhagh, be it the ruling people, the Iwa obedient Hrixin, man or mûghal, but those who will not come along will perish. Thus, oh noble Taykâhral , send a messenger to the Cleft of the Double People, and ask the tank’oe of the Bird-headed people if he supports me in my council, because heavy and late is this hour, and the evening is falling over the dhagh.”
The mûghal leader took five of his trusted people with him and ascended. They also took an escort to defend themselves from traitors. They safely left and returned. With them came, seated on the back of Taykâhral, the Lord of the Bird-headed people, Tças’hir. He bowed his head to you and spoke: ” As you spoke, it will happen, oh dâmarl, but now go in peace, as I will lead the people out of here.”
You closed your eyes, fell of your riding animal, and a couple of moments later you were in endless spheres.
Tças’hir however organized the rebellion against the terror, and together with the great good mûghal conquered a base from which the Boat of the Saving-seekers could leave, and he let resound his call over the dhagh. A couple of thousand grouped around him. Many ships filled, they finally left the sinking ship, whose captains were already dead.
The last thing Tças’hir saw of Perk’oedhagh, was its wild shape of red, waving hair, the yellow eyes, the blue cheeks and the black purplish beak. “Goodbye!”, Tças’hir shouted, “and be cursed. You will splinter in your deserved ingratitude!”
Was it already rumbling in the dhagh? Soon she would perish, pulling her corrupted population into a destruction they had caused themselves.
Tças’hir however shouted with joy in the Universe: “Now I am alone with Per, and listen! In His name I will be called Arya, the Man, and from my loins will arise a race of leaders of a new world, and it will rule over this world by the desire of the race, into times of light.” Thus the tide ran: the flood that washed away Perk’oedhagh, would also taint later civilization.
(note of the translator: they arrived at Earth. What happened next is accounted in the text Arya)