Agartha The Earth’s Inner 1. Saved by Beings from Inner Earth World - Mariana Stjerna

1. Saved by Beings from Inner Earth An escape into eternity, or from eternity? With this thought I awoke from my meditation. I might have been asleep or awake. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between dreaming and reality. You can actually experience reality in your sleep. Intangible things become tangible there. For me, it was a strange journey. And for me, it has become reality. But you are welcome to doubt my story — until it can be proved. I have no proof … yet! A tall, young man with fair hair, cheerful blue eyes, regular features, and a shapely mouth — a handsome, young man, in fact — had appeared while I was meditating. He started talking, and in my head I could hear every word he said. I was amazed! “Hi Mariana!” he said. “My name’s Timothy, but I’m called Tim. My surname is Brooke. Originally I’m from Seattle, USA, but I’ve ‘emigrated,’ and these days I live inside the Earth. You probably won’t believe me at first, but I think I can convince you. That’s my mission. It’s time for people on the Earth’s surface to know that we exist. “Now I’m going to tell you my story.” * * *

My father was a sea captain. He owned a small cargo boat which plied its trade along the coast between Seattle and Vancouver, Canada. I was brought up as a sailor, pretty much against my will, even though my mother didn’t want me to go to sea. She thought her constant worry about my father was enough. My mother was Swedish and my father of British stock. That’s why I’m bilingual. They met on a cruise in the mid-20th century. Then I came along, and later on, my sister. All three of them are dead now, but I survived a shipwreck when I was nineteen. In spite of Mother’s tears and pleadings that I wouldn’t go to sea, I was father’s first mate by this stage, instead of staying in high school. Father was a resolute but fair man, and I loved him. A terrible storm swept relentlessly over us, with waves as high as houses. Our little boat had weathered storms before, but this was like a volcano. We were close to the coast, which was rocky and inaccessible. Father wanted to

An escape into eternity, or from eternity? With this thought I awoke from my meditation. I might have been asleep or awake. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between dreaming and reality. You can actually experience reality in your sleep. Intangible things become tangible there. For me, it was a strange journey. And for me, it has become reality. But you are welcome to doubt my story — until it can be proved. I have no proof … yet! A tall, young man with fair hair, cheerful blue eyes, regular features, and a shapely mouth — a handsome, young man, in fact — had appeared while I was meditating. He started talking, and in my head I could hear every word he said. I was amazed! “Hi Mariana!” he said. “My name’s Timothy, but I’m called Tim. My surname is Brooke. Originally I’m from Seattle, USA, but I’ve ‘emigrated,’ and these days I live inside the Earth. You probably won’t believe me at first, but I think I can convince you. That’s my mission. It’s time for people on the Earth’s surface to know that we exist. “Now I’m going to tell you my story.” * * * My father was a sea captain. He owned a small cargo boat which plied its trade along the coast between Seattle and Vancouver, Canada. I was brought up as a sailor, pretty much against my will, even though my mother didn’t want me to go to sea. She thought her constant worry about my father was enough.

My mother was Swedish and my father of British stock. That’s why I’m bilingual. They met on a cruise in the mid-20th century. Then I came along, and later on, my sister. All three of them are dead now, but I survived a shipwreck when I was nineteen. In spite of Mother’s tears and pleadings that I wouldn’t go to sea, I was father’s first mate by this stage, instead of staying in high school. Father was a resolute but fair man, and I loved him. A terrible storm swept relentlessly over us, with waves as high as houses. Our little boat had weathered storms before, but this was like a volcano. We were close to the coast, which was rocky and inaccessible. Father wanted to anchor as close to the shore as possible, so we steered towards land. Our cargo was timber and it was heavy, but we didn’t get very far before we were caught in a whirlpool which lifted the boat like a glove and threw it against the nearest cliff. I remember a terrible crash and my father’s otherwise stern face being close to mine. “I love you, my boy,” he cried, with tears in his eyes. “If we ride out this storm, I’m never going to force you to go to sea ever again.” Those were his last words. The ship was torn apart, and I was in the sea, clinging to a log floating on the cold waves. I remember passing out. Father was gone, and the four others in the crew had disappeared. Suddenly, I felt someone human nearby, and a boat was carrying me steadily forwards. Was this death? I lay in the bottom of the boat and tried to raise myself up on my elbows, but fell straight back down again. A friendly face with clear-cut features and long, fair hair bent over me, and at first I couldn’t tell if it was male or female. I soon realized it was a man. The boat entered a kind of well-lit tunnel decorated with paintings. It wasn’t long before we were moored at a jetty. The fair-haired man and another one with dark hair lifted me up and helped me ashore. “Where am I, where’s my father? Where are the rest of the crew? Did the timber go down?” The questions gushed from me in a rush. “Your father couldn’t be saved, nor the crew or the cargo. You were clinging to a log which brought you straight to us. That saved your life. We were on the lookout for wrecked ships because of the storm. You’re inside the Earth now. Welcome!” The man spoke excellent English

“I’m Mannul Zerpa, and I’m taking you to our world for some rest.” When I was younger, an old sailor told me many stories. One of these was about a world that existed inside the planet, and it completely fascinated me. Of course, I’d thought it was just a sailor’s yarn. And yet here I was, in the middle of it, right in the middle of an old sailor’s tale! I pinched myself hard to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. This couldn’t be true — but it was. “When can I return to Seattle?” I asked. “You’ll have to take that up later with someone else. Look around you! You’re walking on solid earth.” The light was strange when we came out of the tunnel or hole in the rock where the boat was tied up — a strange glow in a strange summery landscape. I had left Seattle on a dark November morning, windy and drizzling. There had been leaves on the ground, and the sky was gray. Here the air was clear, with a friendly sun beaming down on us. Glorious flowers lined our path. There were green trees and bushes everywhere. It was like a beautiful morning in a Canadian forest. I had been in forests like this many times with my father and uncle when I was younger, but this seemed sparser and lighter somehow, with more flowers. “We’re just coming to the village where you’re going to stay,” announced my fair-haired savior, with a smile. My savior, literally! “I have to thank you,” I stammered. “You saved my life. It’s just that I feel so confused. I’m actually inside the Earth, below the soil, in some kind of village in a farming area?” “You’ll find out more when we get there,” Mannul informed me. “I’ve saved lots of people from drowning. Your ship isn’t the only one to go down outside these mountains. But it’s only the sea out there which is treacherous, the sea which belongs to the outer Earth. In here it’s calm and always summer.” And I had to make do with that 

We walked through the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen, before reaching a village with tall, round buildings. They seemed weirdly luminous, probably because of the stones they were made out of. I could hear birdsong in the luxuriant trees, and I saw squirrels and a small hare which crept behind a clump of grass. It was like the outside Earth, yet very different. Somehow, it was too perfect, like a film! The houses surrounded what seemed to be a small market square, with a well in the center. We entered one of the houses. A hall with an arched roof led into a semi-circular room with floor-to-ceiling windows. The furniture in the room was what I would deem modern — comfortable, beautifullydesigned chairs and tables, yet different from furniture on Earth. Everything glowed, as if the furniture itself and the surrounding walls were alive. And the roof! It didn’t exist! It was open at the top, with sunlight filtering softly through woven leaves and branches

Mannul gestured for me to sit on a sofa by one of the unglazed windows, where I could see the amazing view outside. The friendly, fair-haired man disappeared after placing a cup in front of me. He would return soon, he said. He told me to drink up before his return.

I tasted the drink. It was wonderful, like a pale wine with a slight tang of honey. The first mouthful shot through my body like an arrow of fire, and I came around at once. Good grief, I thought, I’ll be drunk! But I wasn’t, even after drinking it all up. However, I did experience intense clarity of thought and great wellbeing. When Mannul returned, he wasn’t alone. With him was a man who was at least six and a half feet (two meters) tall. He had gleaming, long, brown hair and was clean-shaven and lithe. His huge, beautiful eyes were set in a youthful face, yet I got the feeling that he was older than time! I stood politely and bowed, and he gave me a friendly smile and hugged me. “Welcome to Wonderland underground, Timothy,” he said. “I know how you got here, and now I’ll tell you where you are.” “Are you a Wise Master?” I interrupted, “I’ve heard people like that exist inside the Earth.” The man laughed heartily. “There is wisdom everywhere, young man,” he responded. “The man who believes himself wise is stupid. Stupidity always tries to mislead wisdom. But if you’re seeking wisdom, you need only look around carefully. Nature is full of wisdom which surface-dwellers are doing their best to destroy.”

“Then, who are you?” I asked, inquisitive as usual. “My name is Dariel. You don’t need to know more than that just yet. I’m one of the nine on the Committee here. We bid you welcome, and wonder if you would like to stay a few days as an honored guest from the surface.” I bowed again and accepted the invitation. You don’t turn down an invitation like that. “Will you help me to get home afterwards?” I asked. “My mother is bound to worry that I’ve drowned like the rest of them.” “Yes, we’ll help you get home, if you still want to go.” Dariel gave me a long, keen look. “We don’t force anybody to stay here, but few return home, and those who do are never believed when they tell people about us. “This is a pleasant place to live. We don’t fight about money, and most of our needs are taken care of. We keep track of the surface and the people there. We know that their supposed development has only brought disaster. Everything is easier here. You’re going to love it.” Dariel stooped and took my hands. He looked right into my eyes, and I was filled with an indescribable inner peace. I was still grieving profoundly

for my father and missing my mother and Littl’un, my sister. But, in a flash, the grief and longing lessened, and I wanted to learn more about this peculiar country I was in. It was as if I had been stroked softly by an angel’s wing, leaving me happy and at peace. In the distance soft music was playing, not at all like modern music from above ground, more like Mozart or one of the old Masters. “Mannul will take you on a tour of our borders, beginning a few days from now. First you will visit Telos, which is where surface-dwellers end up if they happen to fall into our world. “Timothy, I’m your friend. Please call on me if you need questions answered or help of any kind. We’ll meet again when the time comes.”

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