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which are not more than Maya, Illusion. For the Spirit, there is no Created life or death
but Illusion and, therefore, there is neither sin nor guilt, neither debts nor Karma to
be paid: if the decision proceeds from the Spirit, the action would not produce
posterior effect opun Himself because the Illusion lacks of capacity to act over the
Reality of the Self; and this, whatever be the action realized, even kill the relatives
and friends. However the Kshatriya must comply with an essential condition to allow that the
spiritual natureto predominate over the animic or animal part: he must toughen his heart,
he must «throw out that non-aryan weakness», that’s to say, he must despoil himself
of every compassionate feelings towards whom are not but actors of a karmic
argument, pure illusion; they don’t exist really, they don’t live, as Krishna says «they
are already dead in me». This is the Wisdom of the Lords of Venus of Agartha: only who
possesses a heart hard as the Stone and cold as the Ice is a Kshatriya; and only such
Kshatriya can realize any action, even kill, without being touched by the Karma. That
is the Power, O Kurt, man of Pure Blood, of the Hyperborean-Initiated-Kshatriya, the
semidivine man who has his Uncreated Spirit chained to the Created Soul!

Such words interrupted as a ray in my consciousness filling me with perplexity, this, for
many reasons. First because the security invaded me –as I already said– that the Voice was
external to my being. Second for the tone of the Voice: firm and energic, was at the same time a
reliable and friendly Voice. I felt on its presence that was not possible for my to distrust neither
to doubt of the words due to that Voice was emitted by Someone superior to me. Someone who
was «coming» to help and guide me. And third because the «content» of these words, the
«concepts» that reached my consciousness were not always clear and comprehensible.

This last must not be understood in the sense that they were obscure or veiled, but that
such concepts alluded to things and situation ubeknown or forgotten by me. I say «forgotten»
because in this feeling of veracity which induced me to listen the words of the Voice coexisted
as a reminiscence of a lost Wisdom, of a forgotten Truth.

Shambalah, Agartha, Lords of Venus, concepts briefly familars that once formed part of
some vaster knowledge but that, inexplicably, I had forgotten without incapable to precise
where nor when, with security not in this life and perhaps not in the «other life» but in a «state
of the Spirit» out of all life and manifestation.

Of one thing I was sure: the Truth was in the past, a remote past that, nevertheless, I
could almost touch with the fingertips.

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