J. Swift's Paris Travel Journal -- Part VI

An old blind man, who knew he was dying, sat on a small bench in the plaza chain smoking. He was paralyzed in fear over the many voices he heard inside of his head:


He wore sunglasses so that no one could see his dead eyes.

The old man saw things from the past and heard these thousand voices, but mostly he thought of a poem by e. e. cummings and what it meant for him as he was about to depart the body:

"what if a much of a which of a wind
gives the truth to summer's lie,
bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun
and yanks immortal stars awry?
Blow king to beggar and queen to seem
(blow friend to fiend:blow space to time)
when skies are hanged and oceans drowned,
the single secret will still be man.

"what if a keen of a lean wind flays
screaming hills with sleet and snow:
strangles valleys by ropes of thing
and stifles forests in white ago?
Blow hope to terror;blow seeing to blind
(blow pity to envy and soul to mind)
whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees,
it's they shall cry hello to the spring

"what if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two,
peels forever out of it's grave
and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
Blow soon to never and never to twice
(blow life to isn't:blow death to was)
—all nothing's only our hugest home;
the most who die,the more we live

*****
The old man's cruel nephew would soon come to take the man back to his very small home, an old trailer behind a castle. The nephew lived in the castle where the old man once had lived when he was young and grand and ruled all he surveyed. But now he was blind and heard voices and wanted to live in the small trailer where he would not trip over things as he did in the castle. He knew that his nephew wanted him to die in order to inherit everything, but the old man did not care and was in fact long past caring. The old man reached into his pocket and took a pill. Soon the pill would hit his bloodstream and the voices would be quiet for awhile and the man's mind would be quiet enough to consider the final part of the poem:

what if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two,
peels forever out of it's grave
and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?


What did it mean to be sprinkled over nowhere after having been seemingly everywhere?

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J. Swift Paris Travel Journal -- Part V

Madame de Volange and Natasha returned with the warm cookies. Madame then poured cognac for all of us. We sat and exchanged small talk at her table as we enjoyed the cookies and a very fine vintage Napoleon cognac.

Madame then asked me to help her get something. She led me down a dark hallway at the end of which was an ancient prison cell door.

Taking a keyring full of antique keys from her coat pocket, she selected a large old skeleton key and ulocked the great padlock on the door. She asked me to remove the padlock and open the door. The padlock weighed at least ten pounds and was several hundred years old judging by the crude craftsmanship of its heat-hammered rivets and iron plate. The door consisted of hammered wrought iron hinges and and bars that were bolted to thick planks of oak. I had to slide the lockbar open before I could open the door. Small flakes of rusted iron fell to the floor as I slid the lockbar open. The door was extremely heavy and took a great deal of strength to open as it swung slowly for what was probably the first time in years on its dry creaking hinges.

The door opened into a small musty prison cell. Upon one wall hung two sets of shackles bolted to the walls by short lengths of medieval chain. The cell reminded me of a religious inquisition, an ecclesiastical kangaroo court ruled over by violent religious idiots:

Madame de Volange flipped an old electrical switch and a faint incadescent light bulb illuminated the dark room. There was a large cedar box on the floor that had metal fittings. I recognized the box as being an airtight museum storage box. My estimation was correct as next to the box was a large metal cylinder of nitrogen that was used to purge the box of air when it was closed after each use. Madame asked me to carry the large box back to the table. The box was heavy. I wondered what was inside.

Bill and Natasha turned to look at me carrying the large box down the hallway towards them. Madame walked ahead of me and asked Natasha to clear the table. She then gestured for me to place the box on the floor as I approached.

I placed the box on the floor and we all gathered around as Madame de Volange again took the ancient iron loop keyring from her pocket, selected an old key, and unlocked the large padlock on the box. She had me open the box. Inside were two packages wrapped in black velvet with one stacked upon the other.

Madame had me take the first package and place it on the table. She undid the wax seal on the front fold of the black velvet and pulled the velvet apart so that we could see what was inside. It was a very sleek wooden box that had an excellent finish on it. She opened the the hinged lid and we were all amazed to see a pristine vintage E-Meter. A highly polished brass plate engraved with the intials "LRH" was mounted on the face of the meter just below the dial.

"It is the first E-Meter that Hubbard had made by Volney," she told us. We all stared at each other in amazement. Madame said nothing else as she gestured for me to take the second package out of the box. I did and placed it next to the E-Meter. Again, Madame broke the wax seal on the black velvet and opened the package.

It was an old manuscript bound by a leather strap. The cover page read:

Excalibur: The Secrets of Life.
Copyright 1948, by L. Ron Hubbard

Bill gasped.

It was quite an astonising thing to see the first E-Meter and the fabled lost Excalibur manuscript!

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J. Swift's Paris Travel Journal -- Part IV

After visiting Notre Dame the next morning, Natasha, Bill, and I took a cab to see an old fortune teller who has been a lifeling a friend of Natasha's mother. The woman is considered to be a powerful psychic and many important people come to see here.

We will call her Madame de Volange after the character in [i]Dangerose Liasons[/i]. The title is apt, for this meeting was to prove to be a dangerous liason for Bill. We had to go down the stairs of an old stone building and make our way through a very large old stone wine celler to find the place where Madame de Volange read tarot cards and did readings.

We found old Madame de Volange under the earth napping by the fireplace in the rooms of the cellar where she worked. She was lying on a small sofa while a stereo played the music of [i]Somewhere in Time[/i]. Having helped raise Natasha, Madame de Volange was expecting her child for the air was rich with the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. Madame de Volange awoke as we entered and greeted Natasha and I warmly. She offered me her hand and I bowed and kissed it as a gentleman would do in France.

She did not speak to Bill but instead turned and studied him.

"Scientologiste, oui?" she asked as she looked at Bill.

"Oui, Scientologiste," Bill replied.

They looked at each other for a few moments and then Madame de Volange offered her hand. Bill was not so gallant as to kiss her hand and instead shook it. She smiled and gestured for Bill and I to sit down at the round table while she and Natasha went to take the cookies out of the oven.

"Did Natasha tell her?" Bill asked.

"Yes, she did," I answered.

"Does she like Scientologists?"

"I haven't a clue, Bill," I said. "All I know is that she wanted to meet an OT VII."

"Why?"

"Natasha said that she wanted to see what an OT was like, you know see if she senses any special powers in you."

"Fine."

"Okay."

"Does she know the tech?" Bill quizzed me in that impatient way he has.

"Why would she know the tech? She's a psychic."

Bill smiled that smug Scientologist smile that says, "We know it all and no one else does."

Was he in for a surprise!


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J. Swift's Paris Travel Journal -- Part III

I walked into my hotel room and Natasha was waiting for me on the balcony. She had made me a scotch and soda:


"Is that an E-Meter in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" she asked.

"I am as sensitive and sexy as Pan," I replied, "Lord help women when I begin to fondle them...."

"Shut up!" Natasha laughed as she handed me the drink.

*****

Tonight would be all about Natasha. Bill was on his own as he wandered the streets of Paris in search of the secret key that would unlock the entire mystery of his wholetrack and the enigma of existence itself. The pale and angry ghost of L. Ron Hubbard, dragging its chains, would follow Bill and whisper to him....

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J. Swift's Paris Travel Journal - Part II

Bill and I walked along the Boulevards of Paris and had our same argument all over again.

"Bill, what is the point of auditing your past? You have hundreds of lives and tens of thousands of years of existence. You will never be able to inspect all of it. It is all a bottomless pit that never ends. I say that true spirituality requires that one walk away from their past and drop it. Get over it."

"Yes, but J., there are things in us from the past that keep us trapped. Auditing allows perople to locate these things and eliminate them so that they are free of them. The systematic elimation of past traumas makes a person free."

Free of what? Really? What does Scientology make a person free from? David Miscavige still has asthma. Tom Cruise has two divorces under his belt. You are not happy as a result all of your years of auditing. So who in Scientology is free? No one is certainly free of Ethics."

Bill lit a cigarette and didn't speak right away. We had had arguments about entheta versus truth and I had agreed to say only what was true and never use entheta around him.

It is hard for Bill to be an OT VII. He is supposed to have massive OT powers and does not. He does not lie to himself anymore. This is part of what he calls his truth process. He will not lie to himself anymore: Either a thing is true or it isn't. So he is caught being an OT VII without any of the promised spiritual powers.

"How can one drop their past, J.? One cannot be free of that which they have not located, examined, and re-experienced so that is disappears. Auditing is a way of annihilating the past at all levels so that it no longer holds power over you."

"Bill, how many lifetimes will you spend examining and annihilating your past? You don't even know which parts of your past are real or imagined. You don't even know which parts of your past you really lived. Why audit someone else's past?" I asked with a veiled reference to BT's. "Karmically speaking, you can handle the past by, as the Zen parable says, 'throwing it like snow into a roaring furnace.' You can simply decide to stand free of your past by noticing it when it arises and standing apart from it. Look, one needs introspection and transcendence and yet this path has been around for thousands of years. None of the masters has ever made enlightenment about a massive inspection of a person's past -- and for a price no less! You are paying to audit your past and the totality of your being and yet you go around and around in circles and always arrive back in the same place: You are who you are in some permanent way. Your nature and character are fixed somehow by destiny and karma."

Bill shot me that look. That "look" is one where he is trying to decide if I am an SP or if I am making sense.

"I refuse to admit that I am stuck or cannot change."

"Look, Bill, that is not what I am saying. I am saying it is like the ocean: The ocean is the ocean. It is wet and has waves and its tides move by the pull of the Moon. That is the nature of the ocean. The ocean is perfect in what it is and it can't not be the ocean. There is no problem or engrams for the ocean and there is nothing to change. It is like this with your essential nature and you can relax into the purity of your own nature and stop fighting it and trying to kill it with auditing."

"Yes but J. surely you realize that the ocean is a vast machine of Nature and that men are not. We have motives to decide, choices to make whereas the ocean does not. Auditing is focus. Auditing is a choice not to be trapped by the machine."

"But what is Scientology except a tautological machine? It is a big instution devoted to keeping people doing what? What is it you really do?"

"You don't know."

"I do."

"No, you only know what you read on the internet. Let's go over by Notre Dame and get a cappucino." Going to get a coffee was Bill's signal to back off. I do the same thing to him sometimes when he crowds me.


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J. Swift's Paris Travel Journal: Part I

I arrived in Paris, the City of Lights, and it was breathtaking to once again see the Eiffel Tower:


This photo is from the internet as I am not such a good photographer, oui? I have my dear Natasha with me as well as my OT friend who we will call Bill. Bill is an OT VII. He is having very serious problems with his participation in Scientology after decades in the Church. I offered to pay all of his expenses and take him with me to Paris so he could get away from all of the phone calls and the demands that he do Sec Checks and get back into the Org. He has not left CoS and is not in any immediate danger of a Declare as he has money. Bill has loads of money despite Scientology's best efforts to bleed him dry all these years. CoS would prefer to keep their greedy hands on him and has suggested a program recently to get Bill back on lines. Bill put them off. He also refused my offer to pay for his trip as a gift and insisted that we share the costs of the trip. He does not want to feel obligated and I understand.

My lovely Natasha is my girlfriend, my lover, and best friend. I lavish her with affection and gifts. She is the finest woman in the world and I worship the ground upon which she walks. I am in Paris with my girlfriend and my old pal Bill. Although he is in Paris, Bill remains mordant and gloomy. I know he is dealing with a great inner struggle with Scientology and my goal is to tip the scales in Paris so that he blows. Bill is even now in his room solo auditing and smoking Kool menthol cigarettes, the same LRH smoked:



Although Bill will not speak to me of the upper levels, he knows I have read all of the levels online. He knows I know the secrets and it has not killed me. This bothers him. Many things about Scientology increasingly bother Bill. He is always asked for money. Someone from Super Power tried to reg him for an amount he would only say was, "Well over $50,000." He has already given much money to Scientology and his issues remain unhandled. The Church makes him wrong for having these issues. When they fail to deliver what they are paid for, they refuse to refund money and instead say that it is an SP in one's environment causing the problem. Bill knows me as a good friend and refuses to see me as an SP so I am not the problem. He does not know I post here. I do not ask him about the upper levels and he does not ask me what I do online.

My job in Paris is to convince Bill to leave Scientology once and for all. That is the main reason I arranged this trip. Well, that and to take Natasha shopping and look at art. I will also visit the Paris Org and have concocted what should be a fun adventure.

While Bill was auditing, Natasha and I went to the Paris Opera House to meet some friends of her's who live in Paris:



The Opera House is truly one of the most beautiful places in Paris. Europe is so rich in art and architecture that one quickly realizes that America has very few buildings that can compare.


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Sergeant L. Ron Hubbard, USMC

(Note: The following is carried over from my work on xenu.net
refs: ocmb.xenu.net/ocmb/viewtopic.php?t=24411&postorder=asc
hocmb.xenu.net/ocmb/viewtopic.php?t=30492 )

venusian_traindriver, thank you. I am glad I did this thread, for it raised serious questions about Hubbard's life from 1928-1934:

1. LRH was residing in a US Naval Hospital in 1933: Why?

2. LRH enlisted in the USMC Reserve in 1930 when he was 19 years old. A scant 18 months later, LRH the Reservist had the rank and paygrade of a First Sergeant (E5). How did Hubbard pull this off? It takes about four years to reach E5 according to US Military website I checked.

3. LRH was honorably discharged from the USMC after eighteen months on the condition that he could not re-enlist. Why was L. Ron Hubbard banned for life from the USMC?

4. I have discerned pattern, using Hubbard's own words, in which he feigned physical problems or illness in order to avoid the punishment for his own actions during key periods of stress in his life. My work is my thread The Evolution of a Fraud. I strongly urge your fifty friends look at it because it is solid research into Hubbard's behavior: ocmb.xenu.net/ocmb/viewtopic.php?t=30492

5. My theory is that L. Ron Hubbard falsified his promotion to First Sergeant in order to collect more money from the USMC. Hubbard had expensive hobbies in college that he had to pay for. This include getting his license to fly a glider. Although he did not have a license for powered flight, Hubbard also claimed to have barnstormed during this period and flying airplanes was an extremely expensive proposition in the Great Depression.

6. My theory maintains the Hubbard was caught in his fraud. Threatened with a court martial and time at Fort Leavenworth, Hubbard pleaded insanity of some sort. In order to confirm his claimed mental illness, the USMC had Hubbard placed into the US Naval Hospital Psychiatric Ward. It was here that Hubbard was exposed firsthand to the gruesome ECT psychiatric techniques of the 1930's by observing what happened to other patients who underwent ECT.

7. My theory would, in part, explain Hubbard's intense hatred against both Psychiatry and Electro-Convulsive Therapy (ECT). I think that Hubbard was made a candidate for ECT, but that his faked mental illness suddenly improved when he realized the irreversible outcome of an ECT if he persisted in his lie. Hubbard's hatred for psychiatry and Electro-Convulsive Therapy is institutionalized into the Cult of Scientology and its fanatic front group CCHR, the so-called Citizens Commission for Human Rights, a self-proclaimed Psychiatry watchdog group that sells the Cult's Xenu/BT-based "processing" as an alternative to Psychiatry and Psychology.

8. Hubbard's father was a career US Naval officer who would have intervened for his son. Commander Thompson likely intervened as well. I theorize that in the gentlemanly tradition of the United States Marine Corps, the Commandant gave the twenty-one year old Hubbard an honorable discharge so that a young man who had made a very serious mistake would not be tarred for life by a court martial, a medical discharge, or worse, a Section 8 discharge given to those with "mental conditions." However, the USMC Commandant split the difference: He ordered that LRH be banned for life from the Corps he had disgraced. IMO, Hubbard's lifetime ban from the USMC was the manner in which the Commandant quietly "marked" Hubbard for life as having disgraced the United States Marine Corps.

I think that my theory is consistent and explains the facts of the period. Hubbard's USMC service jacket appears to have been rifled later by unknown persons.


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