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September 2nd, 2004.
Atlanta, Georgia, USA,
Received by RL.
Phoduk: When the sun was rising brilliantly over the horizon, with a bright pure yellow light, I would
paddle up the river. There were reeds in the water, and there were snakes, so it was dangerous. The world of
the Creator was very beautiful, overpoweringly beautiful. I would stop by the side of the river.
My journey was to see my teacher and mentor. He was an aged man who cared for a stone temple by the river.
His body was infirm, he was so old, and he walked with a cane, which he also used to scratch diagrams and words
in the dust of the earth to illustrate what he was explaining. He transmitted to me ancient secrets, and I was
his only disciple. I felt burdened by them until I was able to transmit them to another, younger disciple.
Rebecca: Why were they kept secret?
Phoduk: Because you know that people tend to misunderstand. They may make things more solid than they
are, or may not be finely tuned enough to understand. They misapprehend. Or further, they may tell them to the
wrong people and noise them about. The secrets have to be told to the proper vessel for them, one who is capable
of understanding them.
I am Phoduk, and I must leave now.
Rebecca: I was calling Gilgamesh.
Phoduk: No, I am Phoduk, Phoduk, Phoduk.
Rebecca: Do you know of a scribe named Sirius that the man was inquiring about?
Phoduk: There was a very famous and renowned scribe named Cyrus whom I never met myself. It’s very
unlikely it was a past life regression. More likely, Cyrus was speaking to him while his mind was open. I must
leave now, but I will return.
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