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There is a detail that was almost universally missed in the exhilaration which accompanied the recent Artemis II lunar probe. It is Artemis, the very name of the project. The space vehicle in which NASA’s Artemis II mission was accomplished was given an equally intriguing name of similar inspiration, Orion. The choice of names, once attention is drawn to it, is not without significance.
Not because there is no connection between the ancient deity Artemis and the moon, which there is. Pagan deities generally had a multiplicity of offices, and sometimes even a variety of names. Thus, the Greek goddess Artemis, whose name graces NASA’s latest space mission, in the Roman pantheon was also known as Diana. Known best as the patroness of hunting, in her heyday Artemis was associated as well with fertility, virginity, and childbearing. But in addition to all of the above she was considered also to be the Moon goddess, whilst her twin brother Apollo, who in an earlier period of space exploration (the Apollo Programme) was similarly commemorated, in pagan antiquity was honoured as the Sun god. So on that superficial level naming the recent moon probe after Artemis would seem to make a modicum of sense.
The deeper question, however, is why draw at all on ancient pagan mythology as the source for naming modern scientific space exploration ventures? That interesting question does not come up very much, or at all, because the detachment of the contemporary Western mind from its cultural and spiritual foundations is a project that for several centuries, at least since the Renaissance, has been relentlessly pursued and has by now been successfully completed. For the majority of our poorly educated contemporaries “Artemis” is void of any specific meaning or connotation, just as in the popular mind “Apollo” is mostly associated with distributing messages. He is often represented as nothing more than a visual symbol of the postal service.
Most are unaware however, and would undoubtedly be surprised to learn, that the pagan deity Artemis figures prominently in the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament, in chapter 19, where the diminishment of Artemis’ status, as a consequence of Paul’s fruitful missionary sojourn in the ancient metropolis of Ephesus, provoked a great commotion amongst her pagan worshippers.
Anyone with roots still embedded in the soil of what used to be Western Christian Civilisation must be struck by the official preference in the West for naming things after pagan mythological entities. Artemis, Apollo, and Orion are fairly recent examples but many others could be cited. Why would the collective West step outside its historic cultural heritage when naming things? The almost inescapable conclusion is that such a choice of names is deliberate and is ideologically determined. It serves as the outward manifestation of the world view of the hermetic group that is in charge and flaunts the occultic underpinning of their enterprises. The names given to their projects are not just randomly pulled out of a hat. By way of contrast, at the height of cold war rivalry in the 1970s, the Soviet programme of delivering to the surface of the moon a self-propelled vehicle designed to collect samples and gather scientific data was given the impeccably neutral designation of Луноход (roughly translated as the Moon Walker), a name that was completely dissociated from any ideological or political connotations.
The in-your-face insistence on the revival of pagan symbolism and imagery, as the prominent American public philosopher Jay Dyer has pointed out, is part and parcel of a larger scheme to reshape the religious sphere so that it can be comfortably integrated into the one-world governance programme pursued by the occult elite that directs the collective West with pretensions of extending its control over the entire planet. Designations for undertakings of great resonance, such as space missions, are carefully selected. Their purpose is to accustom the public mind to non-Christian referents and to ease reversion to symbols that will ultimately become the building blocks of the new bogus “spirituality” that is being constructed as one of the tools of the Western elite’s projected global control system.
Returning to NASA and the spirit which directs it from behind the wholesome facade, we find indications of occult influence from its very inception. Quite illuminating in that regard is an article which appeared in Britain’s mainstream daily The Telegraph on 17 February 2017. It is tellingly entitled “Sex, rocket science, and Satanism: meet Nasa’s real hidden figures,” and it frankly reveals some facts that sound incredible but by all accounts may be taken as verifiably real.
The subject of The Telegraph’s revelations is one Jack Parsons, not exactly a household name yet a key figure in the development of the technology which made modern rocketry and space exploration possible. Parsons, it is said, has “been written out of Nasa’s history in spite of the considerable contribution [he] made to America’s intergalactic exploration. In fact, Jack Parsons is barely acknowledged on Nasa’s website, and he’s the man who made rockets a reality and co-founded the agency’s Jet Propulsion Lab (JPL), home to missions which paved the way for the Apollo programs and continue to explore Mars and outer space today.”
The interesting thing about this influential but largely unacknowledged figure who was instrumental in laying the technical foundations of NASA is that he was a hard-core occultist and a close associate of British MI6 asset, notorious devil worshipper Aleister Crowley, as well as of the American religious fraudster L. Ron Hubbard, founder of the Scientology cult.
In the 1930s, we learn, Jack Parsons conducted his rocketry experiments “in the desert lands outside of Caltech, where there is a former river channel called Arroyo Seco. It is flanked on both sides by rock, one of which is called Devil’s Gate, thanks to its shape of a horned head. Some locals believed the mouth of Arroyo Seco was a portal to other dimensions, but for Parsons the area had two uses. He tested rockets there, but years later, he would return to conduct ceremonies and rituals with other occultists in the same spot.”
The Telegraph article goes on to say that “as his scientific credibility soared, so did Parsons’s interest in the supernatural. He was taken to a meetings of Ordo Templi Orientis, an occult society, in Los Angeles in 1939 and soon became engrossed. The OTO, as it was known, was formed by and followed the teachings of Aleister Crowley, a heroin addicted sexual deviant, and occultist who was considered The Wickedest Man in the World by the press in his native England. Parsons went from reading Crowley’s writings to becoming [his] pen-pal. Within a few years, Crowley considered Parsons his American protégé.”
The depth of Parsons’ and his occult proto-NASA circle’s commitment to the sinister side of reality is attested by the serious attempt Parsons made “in the mid-Forties (…) to push the barriers of [Crowley’s] Thelemic magick to a new level: he wanted to take the spirit of Babalon, a goddess worshipped by the religion, and instill it in a human being: in short, he wanted to impregnate a woman he believed to have certain powers. The child, he believed, would embody the forces of Babalon.”
“Babalon,” of course, in the private language of these perverts stands for Babylon, the “mother of harlots” and symbol of false religion and corrupted worldwide system and apocalyptic emblem of the final battle between good and evil in which, thankfully, we are assured that the forces of wickedness will be forever vanquished.
Is there still a dilemma concerning the ultimate inspiration behind the seemingly odd appellations given to space exploration projects and much else that currently surrounds us? Should they continue to be regarded as purely coincidental?
With all due respect to the brave Artemis II astronauts, their mission was hijacked in plain sight and consecrated to a sinister divinity at whose altar most of them probably do not worship.
But that is the milieu the Paperclipped Nazi scientists, when they arrived, must have fit right in.
