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What Does It Mean ? What does this all mean for the Ground Crew ?

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Old 09-08-2009, 12:59 PM   #1
giovonni
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Question Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Dan Brown's~ long awaited and highly secretive new novel is due out soon~


Much speculation into its content and what that symbol really is?????

Any ideas or insights into all this hype


UPDATED September 15th, 2009

September 15th, 2009


This afternoon on NPR~radio here in Washington DC Dan Brown the author of The Da Vinci Code, and Angels and Demons~ new book
The Lost Symbol was released today.

Set in Washington, D.C., and focused on Freemasonry, Brown's new novel continues the tale of Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon.

Dan Brown

Dan Brown's website:
http://www.danbrown.com/#/theLostSymbol




Here is a link to NPR's "ALL Things Considered" program (today) and a 8 minute portion of the interview;


http://www.npr.org/templates/story/s...ryId=112751885

Also

below is an excerpt: from 'The Lost Symbol'



The Lost Symbol
By Dan Brown

To live in the world without becoming aware of the meaning of the world is like wandering about in a great library without touching the books.
— The Secret Teachings of All Ages

Fact:

In 1991, a document was locked in the safe of the director of the CIA. The document is still there today. Its cryptic text includes references to an ancient portal and an unknown location underground. The document also contains the phrase "It's buried out there somewhere."

All organizations in this novel exist, including the Freemasons, the Invisible College, the Office of Security, the SMSC, and the Institute of Noetic Sciences.

All rituals, science, artwork, and monuments in this novel are real.

Prologue

House of the Temple
8:33 P.M.

The secret is how to die.

Since the beginning of time, the secret had always been how to die.

The thirty-four-year-old initiate gazed down at the human skull cradled in his palms. The skull was hollow, like a bowl, filled with bloodred wine.

Drink it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear.

As was tradition, he had begun this journey adorned in the ritualistic garb of a medieval heretic being led to the gallows, his loose-fitting shirt gaping open to reveal his pale chest, his left pant leg rolled up to the knee, and his right sleeve rolled up to the elbow. Around his neck hung a heavy rope noose — a "cable-tow" as the brethren called it. Tonight, however, like the brethren bearing witness, he was dressed as a master.

The assembly of brothers encircling him all were adorned in their full regalia of lambskin aprons, sashes, and white gloves. Around their necks hung ceremonial jewels that glistened like ghostly eyes in the muted light. Many of these men held powerful stations in life, and yet the initiate knew their worldly ranks meant nothing within these walls. Here all men were equals, sworn brothers sharing a mystical bond.

As he surveyed the daunting assembly, the initiate wondered who on the outside would ever believe that this collection of men would assemble in one place . . . much less this place. The room looked like a holy sanctuary from the ancient world.

The truth, however, was stranger still.

I am just blocks away from the White House.

This colossal edifice, located at 1733 Sixteenth Street NW in Washington, D.C., was a replica of a pre-Christian temple — the temple of King Mausolus, the original mausoleum . . . a place to be taken after death. Outside the main entrance, two seventeen-ton sphinxes guarded the bronze doors. The interior was an ornate labyrinth of ritualistic chambers, halls, sealed vaults, libraries, and even a hollow wall that held the remains of two human bodies. The initiate had been told every room in this building held a secret, and yet he knew no room held deeper secrets than the gigantic chamber in which he was currently kneeling with a skull cradled in his palms.

The Temple Room.

This room was a perfect square. And cavernous. The ceiling soared an astonishing one hundred feet overhead, supported by monolithic columns of green granite. A tiered gallery of dark Russian walnut seats with hand-tooled pigskin encircled the room. A thirty-three-foot-tall throne dominated the western wall, with a concealed pipe organ opposite it. The walls were a kaleidoscope of ancient symbols . . . Egyptian, Hebraic, astronomical, alchemical, and others yet unknown.

Tonight, the Temple Room was lit by a series of precisely arranged candles. Their dim glow was aided only by a pale shaft of moonlight that filtered down through the expansive oculus in the ceiling and illuminated the room's most startling feature — an enormous altar hewn from a solid block of polished Belgian black marble, situated dead center of the square chamber.

The secret is how to die, the initiate reminded himself.

"It is time," a voice whispered.

The initiate let his gaze climb the distinguished white-robed figure standing before him. The Supreme Worshipful Master. The man, in his late fifties, was an American icon, well loved, robust, and incalculably wealthy. His once-dark hair was turning silver, and his famous visage reflected a lifetime of power and a vigorous intellect.

"Take the oath," the Worshipful Master said, his voice soft like falling snow. "Complete your journey."

The initiate's journey, like all such journeys, had begun at the first degree. On that night, in a ritual similar to this one, the Worshipful Master had blindfolded him with a velvet hoodwink and pressed a ceremonial dagger to his bare chest, demanding: "Do you seriously declare on your honor, uninfluenced by mercenary or any other unworthy motive, that you freely and voluntarily offer yourself as a candidate for the mysteries and privileges of this brotherhood?"

"I do," the initiate had lied.

"Then let this be a sting to your consciousness," the master had warned him, "as well as instant death should you ever betray the secrets to be imparted to you."

At the time, the initiate had felt no fear. They will never know my true purpose here.

Tonight, however, he sensed a foreboding solemnity in the Temple Room, and his mind began replaying all the dire warnings he had been given on his journey, threats of terrible consequences if he ever shared the ancient secrets he was about to learn: Throat cut from ear to ear . . . tongue torn out by its roots . . . bowels taken out and burned . . . scattered to the four winds of heaven . . . heart plucked out and given to the beasts of the field —

"Brother," the gray-eyed master said, placing his left hand on the initiate's shoulder. "Take the final oath."

Steeling himself for the last step of his journey, the initiate shifted his muscular frame and turned his attention back to the skull cradled in his palms. The crimson wine looked almost black in the dim candlelight. The chamber had fallen deathly silent, and he could feel all of the witnesses watching him, waiting for him to take his final oath and join their elite ranks.

Tonight, he thought, something is taking place within these walls that has never before occurred in the history of this brotherhood. Not once, in centuries.

He knew it would be the spark . . . and it would give him unfathomable power. Energized, he drew a breath and spoke aloud the same words that countless men had spoken before him in countries all over the world.

"May this wine I now drink become a deadly poison to me . . . should I ever knowingly or willfully violate my oath."

His words echoed in the hollow space.

Then all was quiet.

Steadying his hands, the initiate raised the skull to his mouth and felt his lips touch the dry bone. He closed his eyes and tipped the skull toward his mouth, drinking the wine in long, deep swallows. When the last drop was gone, he lowered the skull.

For an instant, he thought he felt his lungs growing tight, and his heart began to pound wildly. My God, they know! Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling passed.

A pleasant warmth began to stream through his body. The initiate exhaled, smiling inwardly as he gazed up at the unsuspecting gray-eyed man who had foolishly admitted him into this brotherhood's most secretive ranks.

Soon you will lose everything you hold most dear.


Chapter 1

The Otis elevator climbing the south pillar of the Eiffel Tower was overflowing with tourists. Inside the cramped lift, an austere businessman in a pressed suit gazed down at the boy beside him. "You look pale, son. You should have stayed on the ground."

"I'm okay . . ." the boy answered, struggling to control his anxiety. "I'll get out on the next level." I can't breathe.

The man leaned closer. "I thought by now you would have gotten over this." He brushed the child's cheek affectionately.

The boy felt ashamed to disappoint his father, but he could barely hear through the ringing in his ears. I can't breathe. I've got to get out of this box!

The elevator operator was saying something reassuring about the lift's articulated pistons and puddled-iron construction. Far beneath them, the streets of Paris stretched out in all directions.

Almost there, the boy told himself, craning his neck and looking up at the unloading platform. Just hold on.

As the lift angled steeply toward the upper viewing deck, the shaft began to narrow, its massive struts contracting into a tight, vertical tunnel.

"Dad, I don't think — "

Suddenly a staccato crack echoed overhead. The carriage jerked, swaying awkwardly to one side. Frayed cables began whipping around the carriage, thrashing like snakes. The boy reached out for his father.

"Dad!"

Their eyes locked for one terrifying second.

Then the bottom dropped out.

Robert Langdon jolted upright in his soft leather seat, startling out of the semiconscious daydream. He was sitting all alone in the enormous cabin of a Falcon 2000EX corporate jet as it bounced its way through turbulence. In the background, the dual Pratt & Whitney engines hummed evenly.

"Mr. Langdon?" The intercom crackled overhead. "We're on final approach."

Langdon sat up straight and slid his lecture notes back into his leather daybag. He'd been halfway through reviewing Masonic symbology when his mind had drifted. The daydream about his late father, Langdon suspected, had been stirred by this morning's unexpected invitation from Langdon's longtime mentor, Peter Solomon.

The other man I never want to disappoint.

The fifty-eight-year-old philanthropist, historian, and scientist had taken Langdon under his wing nearly thirty years ago, in many ways filling the void left by Langdon's father's death. Despite the man's influential family dynasty and massive wealth, Langdon had found humility and warmth in Solomon's soft gray eyes.

Outside the window the sun had set, but Langdon could still make out the slender silhouette of the world's largest obelisk, rising on the horizon like the spire of an ancient gnomon. The 555-foot marble-faced obelisk marked this nation's heart. All around the spire, the meticulous geometry of streets and monuments radiated outward.

Even from the air, Washington, D.C., exuded an almost mystical power.

Langdon loved this city, and as the jet touched down, he felt a rising excitement about what lay ahead. The jet taxied to a private terminal somewhere in the vast expanse of Dulles International Airport and came to a stop.

Langdon gathered his things, thanked the pilots, and stepped out of the jet's luxurious interior onto the foldout staircase. The cold January air felt liberating.

Breathe, Robert, he thought, appreciating the wide-open spaces.

A blanket of white fog crept across the runway, and Langdon had the sensation he was stepping into a marsh as he descended onto the misty tarmac.

"Hello! Hello!" a singsong British voice shouted from across the tarmac. "Professor Langdon?"

Langdon looked up to see a middle-aged woman with a badge and clipboard hurrying toward him, waving happily as he approached. Curly blond hair protruded from under a stylish knit wool hat.

"Welcome to Washington, sir!"

Langdon smiled. "Thank you."

"My name is Pam, from passenger services." The woman spoke with an exuberance that was almost unsettling. "If you'll come with me, sir, your car is waiting."

Langdon followed her across the runway toward the Signature terminal, which was surrounded by glistening private jets. A taxi stand for the rich and famous.

"I hate to embarrass you, Professor," the woman said, sounding sheepish, "but you are the Robert Langdon who writes books about symbols and religion, aren't you?"

Langdon hesitated and then nodded.

"I thought so!" she said, beaming. "My book group read your book about the sacred feminine and the church! What a delicious scandal that one caused! You do enjoy putting the fox in the henhouse!"

Langdon smiled. "Scandal wasn't really my intention."

The woman seemed to sense Langdon was not in the mood to discuss his work. "I'm sorry. Listen to me rattling on. I know you probably get tired of being recognized . . . but it's your own fault." She playfully motioned to his clothing. "Your uniform gave you away."

My uniform? Langdon glanced down at his attire. He was wearing his usual charcoal turtleneck, Harris Tweed jacket, khakis, and collegiate cordovan loafers . . . his standard attire for the classroom, lecture circuit, author photos, and social events.

The woman laughed. "Those turtlenecks you wear are so dated. You'd look much sharper in a tie!"

No chance, Langdon thought. Little nooses.

Neckties had been required six days a week when Langdon attended Phillips Exeter Academy, and despite the headmaster's romantic claims that the origin of the cravat went back to the silk fascalia worn by Roman orators to warm their vocal cords, Langdon knew that, etymologically, cravat actually derived from a ruthless band of "Croat" mercenaries who donned knotted neckerchiefs before they stormed into battle. To this day, this ancient battle garb was donned by modern office warriors hoping to intimidate their enemies in daily boardroom battles.

"Thanks for the advice," Langdon said with a chuckle. "I'll consider a tie in the future."

Mercifully, a professional-looking man in a dark suit got out of a sleek Lincoln Town Car parked near the terminal and held up his finger. "Mr. Langdon? I'm Charles with Beltway Limousine." He opened the passenger door. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to Washington."

Langdon tipped Pam for her hospitality and then climbed into the plush interior of the Town Car. The driver showed him the temperature controls, the bottled water, and the basket of hot muffins. Seconds later, Langdon was speeding away on a private access road. So this is how the other half lives.

As the driver gunned the car up Windsock Drive, he consulted his passenger manifest and placed a quick call. "This is Beltway Limousine," the driver said with professional efficiency. "I was asked to confirm once my passenger had landed." He paused. "Yes, sir. Your guest, Mr. Langdon, has arrived, and I will deliver him to the Capitol Building by seven P.M. You're welcome, sir." He hung up.

Langdon had to smile. No stone left unturned. Peter Solomon's attention to detail was one of his most potent assets, allowing him to manage his substantial power with apparent ease. A few billion dollars in the bank doesn't hurt either.

Langdon settled into the plush leather seat and closed his eyes as the noise of the airport faded behind him. The U.S. Capitol was a half hour away, and he appreciated the time alone to gather his thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly today that Langdon only now had begun to think in earnest about the incredible evening that lay ahead.

Arriving under a veil of secrecy, Langdon thought, amused by the prospect.

Ten miles from the Capitol Building, a lone figure was eagerly preparing for Robert Langdon's arrival.

From The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown. Copyright 2009 by Dan Brown. Published by Doubleday Books. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.


If you want to plan your own Dan Brown-inspired adventure in DC, here are a few locations you won’t want to miss:
check out this link
http://beta.washington.org/visiting/...he-lost-symbol

Last edited by giovonni; 01-26-2010 at 01:28 AM.
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Old 09-08-2009, 01:22 PM   #2
iainl140285
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Was the symbol lost, hidden or forgotten??

The pic above looks like the masonic compas, which is weird since its the second time today I have come across it:
This was the other. Due for release November - Assassains Creed 2


The Lost Symbol, since its connected to Dan Brown, I would speculate it has something to do with part of the key to the stars.

AS ABOVE SO BELOW
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Old 09-08-2009, 05:12 PM   #3
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Dan Brown is doing a great job, if you want to know about the illuminate then just read angels and demons
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Old 09-08-2009, 05:35 PM   #4
mntruthseeker
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

I did read Angels and Demons.


and this will have to be my next book

Thanks Swammy


Is that suppose to be our liberty bell?

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Old 09-08-2009, 06:19 PM   #5
giovonni
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Lightbulb Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

The Freemason Lodge Wasington DC
The Lost Symbol: Dan Brown’s Pentagram City
Dan Brown’s new book—set in Washington—is expected to feature another secret society with an elaborate history and illustrious membership: the Freemasons.

By Sophie Gilbert Published Wednesday, August 26, 2009

from the Washingtonian.com~ Magazine
http://www.washingtonian.com/blogart...13.html?msg=99




ALSO~

Here is an intersting side note;

Dan Brown's new book, The Lost Symbol, to usher in ebook revolution
The Lost Symbol, the new book by Dan Brown, author of The Da Vinci Code, has the potential to create a surge of interest in electronic books, according to experts.

By Ian Johnston

His new work, which is due out on September 15, has a print run of 6.5 million, one of the largest orders in the history of publishing, but Knopf Doubleday, the author's US publisher, has announced that an electronic version will also be issued on the same day.

This will enable the book to be downloaded and read on computers or specialist devices such as the Sony Reader, the Kindle ebook and Apple Tablet.

It is thought Brown's new book – to be published in Britain by Random House – could prove a turning point for the popularity of such machines.

Joel Rickett, editorial director of Penguin's Viking Books, told The Observer newspaper: "The ebook is very quickly becoming a publishing reality and The Lost Symbol will be one of the fastest-selling books of recent times.

"Once people can flip between books, look up references online and switch to an audio reading, everything will change very quickly."

He added: "Even more than J K Rowling's Harry Potter titles, Dan Brown has shown that a book can become genuinely mass market and this helped keep supermarkets' interest and helped publishers develop their methods, especially online.

"The Da Vinci Code kept changing what was expected of the readership. People would think everyone who was ever going to buy that book had already bought it and then, the next week, 20,000 more would sell and another 30,000 after that."

He added that the quality of specialist ebook readers was a key factor. "Apple have huge knack of coming up with gadgets that are nice to use, as well as effective. So far, there is nothing that is as pleasurable as reading print. Part of it will be the way it works and part will be the way it looks," Mr Rickett said.

However Karolina Sutton, a literary agent, pointed out a disadvantage of computer books compared to their paper rivals.

"Like any new technology it has its limitations. It's not fun to run out of power as the protagonist is about to reveal a deadly secret."

Note~ the book will be released 15/9/09


original link;
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technolog...evolution.html

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Old 09-08-2009, 06:24 PM   #6
mntruthseeker
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

There are people already screaming about kindle

My friend tried to put her books through them and now she is at a standstill

They monitore what is being downloaded and NO I wouldn't trust any electronic system for a book
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Old 09-08-2009, 09:54 PM   #7
Swanny
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Love that Tom Hanks plays the chap in the films, he is my favourite actor
Shame that people don't realise what is actually being told in these books
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Old 09-08-2009, 10:00 PM   #8
mntruthseeker
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

yes it really is swammy.

I know I watched it a couple of times and thought "boring" but now I just sit there afraid to leave the room.

Hopefully more will catch on. its portrayed differently when they show it on the ole boob tube
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Old 09-08-2009, 11:38 PM   #9
777 The Great Work
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Old 09-09-2009, 04:21 AM   #10
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Thank you 777 TGW,

I'm totally with you on that.

After the release of Angels and Demons on the big screen, the CERN website got pimped up for the sheeple.

LS

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Old 09-15-2009, 11:10 PM   #11
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Default Freemasons Await Dan Brown Novel `The Lost Symbol'

Freemasons Await Dan Brown Novel `The Lost Symbol'

By HILLEL ITALIE, AP National Writer – Tue Sep 15, 6:51 am ET

WASHINGTON – The lodge room of the Naval Masonic Hall is a colorful and somewhat inscrutable sight for the nonmember, with its blue walls, Egyptian symbols, checkered floor in the center and high ceiling painted with gold stars.

Countless secrets supposedly have been shared in this and thousands of similar rooms around the world. Facts of life have been debated, honors bestowed, rituals enacted. You would need to belong to a lodge to learn what really goes on.

Or you could simply ask.

Continues: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090915/...s_brown_masons
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Old 09-15-2009, 11:42 PM   #12
giovonni
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Thumbs up Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

September 15th, 2009


This afternoon on NPR~radio here in Washington DC Dan Brown the author of The Da Vinci Code, and Angels and Demons~ new book
The Lost Symbol was released today.

Set in Washington, D.C., and focused on Freemasonry, Brown's new novel continues the tale of Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon.

Dan Brown



Here is a link to NPR's "ALL Things Considered" program (today) and a 8 minute portion of the interview;


http://www.npr.org/templates/story/s...ryId=112751885

Also

below is an excerpt: from 'The Lost Symbol'



The Lost Symbol
By Dan Brown

To live in the world without becoming aware of the meaning of the world is like wandering about in a great library without touching the books.
— The Secret Teachings of All Ages

Fact:

In 1991, a document was locked in the safe of the director of the CIA. The document is still there today. Its cryptic text includes references to an ancient portal and an unknown location underground. The document also contains the phrase "It's buried out there somewhere."

All organizations in this novel exist, including the Freemasons, the Invisible College, the Office of Security, the SMSC, and the Institute of Noetic Sciences.

All rituals, science, artwork, and monuments in this novel are real.

Prologue

House of the Temple
8:33 P.M.

The secret is how to die.

Since the beginning of time, the secret had always been how to die.

The thirty-four-year-old initiate gazed down at the human skull cradled in his palms. The skull was hollow, like a bowl, filled with bloodred wine.

Drink it, he told himself. You have nothing to fear.

As was tradition, he had begun this journey adorned in the ritualistic garb of a medieval heretic being led to the gallows, his loose-fitting shirt gaping open to reveal his pale chest, his left pant leg rolled up to the knee, and his right sleeve rolled up to the elbow. Around his neck hung a heavy rope noose — a "cable-tow" as the brethren called it. Tonight, however, like the brethren bearing witness, he was dressed as a master.

The assembly of brothers encircling him all were adorned in their full regalia of lambskin aprons, sashes, and white gloves. Around their necks hung ceremonial jewels that glistened like ghostly eyes in the muted light. Many of these men held powerful stations in life, and yet the initiate knew their worldly ranks meant nothing within these walls. Here all men were equals, sworn brothers sharing a mystical bond.

As he surveyed the daunting assembly, the initiate wondered who on the outside would ever believe that this collection of men would assemble in one place . . . much less this place. The room looked like a holy sanctuary from the ancient world.

The truth, however, was stranger still.

I am just blocks away from the White House.

This colossal edifice, located at 1733 Sixteenth Street NW in Washington, D.C., was a replica of a pre-Christian temple — the temple of King Mausolus, the original mausoleum . . . a place to be taken after death. Outside the main entrance, two seventeen-ton sphinxes guarded the bronze doors. The interior was an ornate labyrinth of ritualistic chambers, halls, sealed vaults, libraries, and even a hollow wall that held the remains of two human bodies. The initiate had been told every room in this building held a secret, and yet he knew no room held deeper secrets than the gigantic chamber in which he was currently kneeling with a skull cradled in his palms.

The Temple Room.

This room was a perfect square. And cavernous. The ceiling soared an astonishing one hundred feet overhead, supported by monolithic columns of green granite. A tiered gallery of dark Russian walnut seats with hand-tooled pigskin encircled the room. A thirty-three-foot-tall throne dominated the western wall, with a concealed pipe organ opposite it. The walls were a kaleidoscope of ancient symbols . . . Egyptian, Hebraic, astronomical, alchemical, and others yet unknown.

Tonight, the Temple Room was lit by a series of precisely arranged candles. Their dim glow was aided only by a pale shaft of moonlight that filtered down through the expansive oculus in the ceiling and illuminated the room's most startling feature — an enormous altar hewn from a solid block of polished Belgian black marble, situated dead center of the square chamber.

The secret is how to die, the initiate reminded himself.

"It is time," a voice whispered.

The initiate let his gaze climb the distinguished white-robed figure standing before him. The Supreme Worshipful Master. The man, in his late fifties, was an American icon, well loved, robust, and incalculably wealthy. His once-dark hair was turning silver, and his famous visage reflected a lifetime of power and a vigorous intellect.

"Take the oath," the Worshipful Master said, his voice soft like falling snow. "Complete your journey."

The initiate's journey, like all such journeys, had begun at the first degree. On that night, in a ritual similar to this one, the Worshipful Master had blindfolded him with a velvet hoodwink and pressed a ceremonial dagger to his bare chest, demanding: "Do you seriously declare on your honor, uninfluenced by mercenary or any other unworthy motive, that you freely and voluntarily offer yourself as a candidate for the mysteries and privileges of this brotherhood?"

"I do," the initiate had lied.

"Then let this be a sting to your consciousness," the master had warned him, "as well as instant death should you ever betray the secrets to be imparted to you."

At the time, the initiate had felt no fear. They will never know my true purpose here.

Tonight, however, he sensed a foreboding solemnity in the Temple Room, and his mind began replaying all the dire warnings he had been given on his journey, threats of terrible consequences if he ever shared the ancient secrets he was about to learn: Throat cut from ear to ear . . . tongue torn out by its roots . . . bowels taken out and burned . . . scattered to the four winds of heaven . . . heart plucked out and given to the beasts of the field —

"Brother," the gray-eyed master said, placing his left hand on the initiate's shoulder. "Take the final oath."

Steeling himself for the last step of his journey, the initiate shifted his muscular frame and turned his attention back to the skull cradled in his palms. The crimson wine looked almost black in the dim candlelight. The chamber had fallen deathly silent, and he could feel all of the witnesses watching him, waiting for him to take his final oath and join their elite ranks.

Tonight, he thought, something is taking place within these walls that has never before occurred in the history of this brotherhood. Not once, in centuries.

He knew it would be the spark . . . and it would give him unfathomable power. Energized, he drew a breath and spoke aloud the same words that countless men had spoken before him in countries all over the world.

"May this wine I now drink become a deadly poison to me . . . should I ever knowingly or willfully violate my oath."

His words echoed in the hollow space.

Then all was quiet.

Steadying his hands, the initiate raised the skull to his mouth and felt his lips touch the dry bone. He closed his eyes and tipped the skull toward his mouth, drinking the wine in long, deep swallows. When the last drop was gone, he lowered the skull.

For an instant, he thought he felt his lungs growing tight, and his heart began to pound wildly. My God, they know! Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling passed.

A pleasant warmth began to stream through his body. The initiate exhaled, smiling inwardly as he gazed up at the unsuspecting gray-eyed man who had foolishly admitted him into this brotherhood's most secretive ranks.

Soon you will lose everything you hold most dear.


Chapter 1

The Otis elevator climbing the south pillar of the Eiffel Tower was overflowing with tourists. Inside the cramped lift, an austere businessman in a pressed suit gazed down at the boy beside him. "You look pale, son. You should have stayed on the ground."

"I'm okay . . ." the boy answered, struggling to control his anxiety. "I'll get out on the next level." I can't breathe.

The man leaned closer. "I thought by now you would have gotten over this." He brushed the child's cheek affectionately.

The boy felt ashamed to disappoint his father, but he could barely hear through the ringing in his ears. I can't breathe. I've got to get out of this box!

The elevator operator was saying something reassuring about the lift's articulated pistons and puddled-iron construction. Far beneath them, the streets of Paris stretched out in all directions.

Almost there, the boy told himself, craning his neck and looking up at the unloading platform. Just hold on.

As the lift angled steeply toward the upper viewing deck, the shaft began to narrow, its massive struts contracting into a tight, vertical tunnel.

"Dad, I don't think — "

Suddenly a staccato crack echoed overhead. The carriage jerked, swaying awkwardly to one side. Frayed cables began whipping around the carriage, thrashing like snakes. The boy reached out for his father.

"Dad!"

Their eyes locked for one terrifying second.

Then the bottom dropped out.

Robert Langdon jolted upright in his soft leather seat, startling out of the semiconscious daydream. He was sitting all alone in the enormous cabin of a Falcon 2000EX corporate jet as it bounced its way through turbulence. In the background, the dual Pratt & Whitney engines hummed evenly.

"Mr. Langdon?" The intercom crackled overhead. "We're on final approach."

Langdon sat up straight and slid his lecture notes back into his leather daybag. He'd been halfway through reviewing Masonic symbology when his mind had drifted. The daydream about his late father, Langdon suspected, had been stirred by this morning's unexpected invitation from Langdon's longtime mentor, Peter Solomon.

The other man I never want to disappoint.

The fifty-eight-year-old philanthropist, historian, and scientist had taken Langdon under his wing nearly thirty years ago, in many ways filling the void left by Langdon's father's death. Despite the man's influential family dynasty and massive wealth, Langdon had found humility and warmth in Solomon's soft gray eyes.

Outside the window the sun had set, but Langdon could still make out the slender silhouette of the world's largest obelisk, rising on the horizon like the spire of an ancient gnomon. The 555-foot marble-faced obelisk marked this nation's heart. All around the spire, the meticulous geometry of streets and monuments radiated outward.

Even from the air, Washington, D.C., exuded an almost mystical power.

Langdon loved this city, and as the jet touched down, he felt a rising excitement about what lay ahead. The jet taxied to a private terminal somewhere in the vast expanse of Dulles International Airport and came to a stop.

Langdon gathered his things, thanked the pilots, and stepped out of the jet's luxurious interior onto the foldout staircase. The cold January air felt liberating.

Breathe, Robert, he thought, appreciating the wide-open spaces.

A blanket of white fog crept across the runway, and Langdon had the sensation he was stepping into a marsh as he descended onto the misty tarmac.

"Hello! Hello!" a singsong British voice shouted from across the tarmac. "Professor Langdon?"

Langdon looked up to see a middle-aged woman with a badge and clipboard hurrying toward him, waving happily as he approached. Curly blond hair protruded from under a stylish knit wool hat.

"Welcome to Washington, sir!"

Langdon smiled. "Thank you."

"My name is Pam, from passenger services." The woman spoke with an exuberance that was almost unsettling. "If you'll come with me, sir, your car is waiting."

Langdon followed her across the runway toward the Signature terminal, which was surrounded by glistening private jets. A taxi stand for the rich and famous.

"I hate to embarrass you, Professor," the woman said, sounding sheepish, "but you are the Robert Langdon who writes books about symbols and religion, aren't you?"

Langdon hesitated and then nodded.

"I thought so!" she said, beaming. "My book group read your book about the sacred feminine and the church! What a delicious scandal that one caused! You do enjoy putting the fox in the henhouse!"

Langdon smiled. "Scandal wasn't really my intention."

The woman seemed to sense Langdon was not in the mood to discuss his work. "I'm sorry. Listen to me rattling on. I know you probably get tired of being recognized . . . but it's your own fault." She playfully motioned to his clothing. "Your uniform gave you away."

My uniform? Langdon glanced down at his attire. He was wearing his usual charcoal turtleneck, Harris Tweed jacket, khakis, and collegiate cordovan loafers . . . his standard attire for the classroom, lecture circuit, author photos, and social events.

The woman laughed. "Those turtlenecks you wear are so dated. You'd look much sharper in a tie!"

No chance, Langdon thought. Little nooses.

Neckties had been required six days a week when Langdon attended Phillips Exeter Academy, and despite the headmaster's romantic claims that the origin of the cravat went back to the silk fascalia worn by Roman orators to warm their vocal cords, Langdon knew that, etymologically, cravat actually derived from a ruthless band of "Croat" mercenaries who donned knotted neckerchiefs before they stormed into battle. To this day, this ancient battle garb was donned by modern office warriors hoping to intimidate their enemies in daily boardroom battles.

"Thanks for the advice," Langdon said with a chuckle. "I'll consider a tie in the future."

Mercifully, a professional-looking man in a dark suit got out of a sleek Lincoln Town Car parked near the terminal and held up his finger. "Mr. Langdon? I'm Charles with Beltway Limousine." He opened the passenger door. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to Washington."

Langdon tipped Pam for her hospitality and then climbed into the plush interior of the Town Car. The driver showed him the temperature controls, the bottled water, and the basket of hot muffins. Seconds later, Langdon was speeding away on a private access road. So this is how the other half lives.

As the driver gunned the car up Windsock Drive, he consulted his passenger manifest and placed a quick call. "This is Beltway Limousine," the driver said with professional efficiency. "I was asked to confirm once my passenger had landed." He paused. "Yes, sir. Your guest, Mr. Langdon, has arrived, and I will deliver him to the Capitol Building by seven P.M. You're welcome, sir." He hung up.

Langdon had to smile. No stone left unturned. Peter Solomon's attention to detail was one of his most potent assets, allowing him to manage his substantial power with apparent ease. A few billion dollars in the bank doesn't hurt either.

Langdon settled into the plush leather seat and closed his eyes as the noise of the airport faded behind him. The U.S. Capitol was a half hour away, and he appreciated the time alone to gather his thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly today that Langdon only now had begun to think in earnest about the incredible evening that lay ahead.

Arriving under a veil of secrecy, Langdon thought, amused by the prospect.

Ten miles from the Capitol Building, a lone figure was eagerly preparing for Robert Langdon's arrival.

From The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown. Copyright 2009 by Dan Brown. Published by Doubleday Books. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.


If you want to plan your own Dan Brown-inspired adventure in DC, here are a few locations you won’t want to miss:
check out this link
http://beta.washington.org/visiting/...he-lost-symbol
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Old 09-16-2009, 12:05 AM   #13
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Here you'll find a lot (& more) about the origin of the Lost Symbol:
www.keyofsolomon.org
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Old 09-16-2009, 11:54 PM   #14
giovonni
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Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol on Kindle is Amazon top seller
The Kindle e-reader edition of The Lost Symbol, the new novel by The Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown, is the top-selling book on Amazon.
By Tom Chivers
Published: 3:07PM BST 16 Sep 2009

The Amazon Kindle


The Kindle edition of Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol, his follow-up to 2003’s smash hit The Da Vinci Code, has become the top-selling item on Amazon.com.

The e-reader edition is outselling the hardback copy of the novel, which had previously become the sixth best selling book of 2009 on pre-publication orders alone.

Commentators are wondering whether the book is heralding a new era in publishing. While Amazon is offering almost 50 per cent off the hardback copies, $16.17 instead of $29.99, the Kindle edition is available at just $9.99 – and there is no wait for delivery.

The news does not mean that the Kindle edition is outselling the physical copies overall. Kindle editions are only available through Amazon, while the hardback can be bought elsewhere both online and on the High Street.

Bloggers at technology website fastcompany.com say there simply are not enough Kindles in existence for them to rival total sales of hard copies. However, as the Kindle gains in popularity and new devices such as the Apple iTablet come to the market, electronic editions may soon take off. If Dan Brown takes another six years to write his next book, he may find that it sells most of its copies electronically.

The Kindle and its successors the Kindle 2 and Kindle DX have been on sale since November 2007. The latest model, the DX, can hold up to 3,500 books in its 4GB internal memory.






original story here;
from the Telegraph.co.uk

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technolog...op-seller.html
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Old 09-17-2009, 09:35 AM   #15
Swanny
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Asda are selling the lost symbol for £5 and thats the hardback
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Old 09-21-2009, 02:48 PM   #16
TempestGarden
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

The book kinda intrigues me, but I haven't read any of his other books nor saw the movie.

I have heard that Dan Brown is supposed to be a disinfo agent though for the Illuminati. Apparently he does this all just to get people to read into his story and dismiss all of this as total fiction.
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Old 09-21-2009, 03:24 PM   #17
Jacqui D
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Yes it's a big ruse! the lost symbol well maybe we would all be better looking within!
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Old 09-21-2009, 10:36 PM   #18
Swanny
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

I tried to buy it from asda tonight but they had sold out.
Asked a woman and she said they get a delivery everyday and everyday it sells out
Going to reserve a copy tomorrow
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Old 09-21-2009, 11:10 PM   #19
giovonni
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Thumbs up Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Swanny its worth the wait

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Old 09-22-2009, 11:01 PM   #20
giovonni
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Lightbulb Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Some of the numerous sites and symbols mentioned in The Lost Symbol ~


Dulles International Airport~ just outside Washington in nearby Virginna.



Smithsonian Museum Support Center (SMSC)
the Smithsonian's Institutes Silver Hill Maryland storage facility.

"This is the world's largest and most technologically advanced museums and also one of the world's best-kept secrets. It houses more pieces than the Hermitage, the Vatican Museum, and the New York Metropolitan...combined. Yet despite its magnificant collection, few members of the public are ever invited inside its heavily guarded walls." from the Lost Symbol


Early grid-map of the Federal Triangle area in DC
The White House- U S Capitol Building- The Washington Monument


Note entirely underground below> the US Capitol Visitor Center while under construction.



This statue is a copy of the one that stands a-top the Capitol Dome below.






Vistor Center's Main Hall






inside angle view of Visitor Center's Main Entrance Hall


National Statuary Hall~ first assembly place~ of the US Congress~
Inside US Capitol, just off to the right of The Capitol Rotunda~
where (in the book) Robert Langdon is scheduled
to give his lecture on symbolism~
too the masonic elite.


George (in his masonry best)
Laying the Cornerstone to the Capitol Building



The George Washington Masonic Temple~ in near by Alexandria Virginna

************************************************** ****************************




Noetic Science~
What Are Noetic Sciences?
The word "noetic" is derived from the Greek word "nous," meaning mind, intelligence or ways of knowing, There is no exact equivalent in English. It refers to "inner knowing," a kind of intuitive consciousnessódirect and immediate access to knowledge beyond what is available to our normal senses or the power of reason.

Noetic sciences are explorations into the nature and potentials of consciousness using multiple ways of knowing -- including intuition, feeling, reason, and the senses. Noetic sciences explore the "inner cosmos" of the mind/consciousness/soul/spirit, and how it relates to the "outer cosmos" of the physical world.

The goal of our work is to support individuals in the transformation of their own consciousness, developing their innate human potentials and creative capacities, as the foundation for a collective transformation towards a global wisdom society.

FIONS strives towards this goal through talks and presentations on subjects related to these ideas, through ongoing groups exploring such topics as dreams, the New Physics, and through active communication among members.


The Institute of Noetic Sciences (IONS) was co-founded in 1973 by former astronaut Edgar Mitchell and industrialist Paul N. Temple to encourage and conduct research on human potentials. Institute programs include "extended human capacities," "integral health and healing," and "emerging worldviews." This includes research into topics such as spontaneous remission, meditation, consciousness, alternative healing practices, spirituality, human potential, psychic abilities and survival of consciousness after bodily death, among others. The institute's name is derived from the Greek word nous, meaning mind.



Its Symbol and forums of study.

"Perhaps the only limits to the human mind
are those we believe in" Willis Harman



Note;
I will post more periodically

Last edited by giovonni; 09-24-2009 at 02:50 AM.
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Old 09-23-2009, 04:20 AM   #21
giovonni
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Question Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol


View> inside US Capitol Rotunda


The Hand of the Mysteries






A lost portal?

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Old 09-24-2009, 03:31 AM   #22
peaceandlove
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

On Coast to Coast AM tonight.

10 pm - 2 am PT
Crop Circles

First Hour: Researcher Lynne McTaggart talks about the science behind Dan Brown's new book, The Lost Symbol.

http://www.coasttocoastam.com/show/2009/09/23

Radio Affiliates: http://www.coasttocoastam.com/affiliates
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Old 09-24-2009, 08:42 AM   #23
giovonni
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Wink Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Thanks PAL
I think Dan Brown~ had ( Lynne McTaggart) in mind
(in) developing the book's character> Katherine Solomon



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Old 09-24-2009, 08:25 PM   #24
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Default Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

Thanks for all these pics Gio. I really enjoyed the book. I thought it was really timely, an easy flowing read and plenty of learning. Dan Brown is a very clever author. The overall message of the book is excellent and thought provoking.

Love and Light

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Old 09-27-2009, 05:52 PM   #25
giovonni
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Question Re: Dan Brown's~ Lost Symbol

The US Library of Congress



The Library of Congress is the research library of the United States Congress and is the oldest federal cultural institution in the United States. Located in three buildings in Washington, D.C., it is the largest library in the world by shelf space and holds the largest number of books.
More-From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Library_of_Congress




The Ultimate Book-Store!



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The District of Columbia ~ lots of revealing secretive books and limo's




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