One of the most remarkable instances of fasting in the Bible is Elijah’s 40-day journey to Mount Horeb, as recorded in 1 Kings 19:5-8. After fleeing from Queen Jezebel, who sought to kill him, Elijah found himself in the wilderness, physically exhausted, emotionally defeated, and spiritually despondent. At this low point, God provided for him in an extraordinary way—both spiritually and physically. Elijah’s fast was not just a physical challenge, but a journey toward spiritual renewal. Through divine provision, Elijah received sustenance from an angel, which allowed him to continue his journey. Fasting, in this case, was integral to his mission, helping him reconnect with God and receive strength for the task ahead. This act of divine sustenance and renewal mirrors the way fasting in the Bible is meant to focus on God's provision, not human endurance, and highlights the importance of divine intervention in times of trial.
Elijah's Fasting in the Wilderness
Elijah’s time in the wilderness, as described in 1 Kings 19:5-8, is a poignant account of God's divine provision. After his victory over the prophets of Baal, Elijah fled to the wilderness out of fear, feeling defeated and alone. In a moment of despair, he lay under a juniper tree and prayed for death, asking God to end his life. However, God had other plans. An angel visited Elijah, providing him with food and water, which enabled him to continue his journey (1 Kings 19:5-8). This divine intervention wasn’t just about physical nourishment—it was about spiritual renewal. Elijah was strengthened, not by his own will or resources, but by the food that came from God’s hand, which enabled him to travel for 40 days and nights until he reached Mount Horeb, the mountain of God.
Elijah's fast was not a mere act of denial; it was part of a spiritual restoration process. God not only fed Elijah but also prepared him for the next phase of his mission, which would involve hearing God’s still, small voice and receiving divine instructions for his future. This story is a powerful reminder that fasting in the Bible often includes divine sustenance, showing that God's intervention is essential when we are physically or spiritually weak.
Fasting and Spiritual Strength
Elijah’s fasting experience underscores the profound connection between spiritual strength and fasting. His physical fast in the wilderness was not merely about abstaining from food; it was about seeking God’s presence and receiving His provision. The strength Elijah gained from the divine food wasn’t simply physical—it enabled him to continue on a spiritual journey. Just as Moses’ fast on Mount Sinai was an act of spiritual communion with God, Elijah’s fast was a reliance on God’s grace for both physical and emotional restoration. In the wilderness, Elijah was not simply trying to survive without food; he was seeking God’s strength to fulfill his calling.
Fasting, in the Bible, is not a practice of self-sufficiency or self-discipline to prove one’s willpower, but a spiritual discipline aimed at deepening one's relationship with God and receiving His provision. When Elijah was at his lowest point, physically exhausted and spiritually drained, he did not rely on his own strength to endure the fast. Instead, he relied on God’s intervention through the food provided by the angel, highlighting the idea that true spiritual strength comes from God, not from human effort alone.
Just as Moses received divine strength on his fast, Elijah’s fasting experience emphasizes that fasting is not for self-sustenance but for spiritual connection with God. It is through fasting that one can be prepared to hear God’s voice and receive strength for the tasks He sets before them.
The Role of Divine Provision
A critical element of Elijah’s fast was the divine provision that sustained him during his time in the wilderness. God did not leave Elijah to rely on his own resources but sent an angel to provide him with food and water, enabling him to continue his journey (1 Kings 19:5-8). This divine act is significant because it shows that true fasting in the Bible is not about surviving on one’s own strength but about depending on God’s grace. In this sense, fasting is not merely a test of endurance but a way to receive God’s provision in times of spiritual or physical weakness.
The food provided by the angel was not ordinary nourishment but spiritually significant, allowing Elijah to receive the strength needed to fulfill his mission. Elijah’s experience shows that fasting, in the biblical sense, is not a form of self-sustaining energy—as some claim in breatharianism—but an act of dependence on God. Just as Moses’ fast was empowered by God’s divine intervention, so too was Elijah’s fast. The food provided to him was a miraculous act of grace, giving him the strength to continue his journey.
This stands in sharp contrast to modern claims of breatharianism, where individuals assert they can survive without food or water through spiritual energy. The biblical model of fasting, as demonstrated by Elijah, emphasizes that God's intervention is essential for survival and spiritual strength, and that true fasting requires reliance on God’s provision, not personal power or self-sufficiency.
Conclusion
Elijah’s fast in the wilderness is a powerful reminder of the importance of divine provision in the practice of fasting. Unlike modern claims of breatharianism, which suggest that fasting is about surviving without sustenance through spiritual energy, the Bible consistently teaches that fasting is about relying on God’s grace and receiving His provision. Elijah did not fast in isolation but was sustained by God through miraculous means, emphasizing that fasting in the Bible is about spiritual renewal and divine empowerment, not human endurance.
Through fasting, Elijah was able to receive God’s strength, both physically and spiritually, for the journey ahead. This experience underscores the key biblical principle that true fasting requires God’s intervention—whether through divine provision, spiritual nourishment, or strength for the tasks He calls us to. In the end, fasting is not about self-sustenance but about drawing closer to God and trusting in His provision and grace.
Fasting has been an integral
spiritual discipline throughout history, used to deepen one's relationship with
God. It serves as an act of devotion, repentance, and spiritual preparation. In
the Bible, fasting is not merely about abstaining from food or drink but about
seeking divine revelation, strengthening one’s connection to God, and receiving
empowerment for God’s purposes. One of the most profound examples of fasting in
the Bible is Moses’ 40-day fast on Mount Sinai. During this time,
Moses was not only physically sustained beyond human limits but also received
the Ten Commandments and guidance for leading the Israelites. Modern-day
claims of extreme fasting, like those made by Prahlad Jani, who alleges
to have survived without food or water for decades, bring questions about human
endurance and spiritual strength. However, Moses’ fast provides a distinct
contrast: it was not about self-sustaining endurance but about divine
empowerment and revelation.
Moses’
Fast on Mount Sinai
Moses’ 40-day fast is recorded in Exodus
34:28, where Moses ascends Mount Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments
from God. It’s important to note that this was not a voluntary act of mere
abstinence; it was a divinely ordained experience in which Moses sought
to draw nearer to God and receive His laws for Israel. As Moses fasted, he
neither ate nor drank, and yet remained strong and healthy. This miraculous
endurance is not of human origin but a testament to God's power and sustaining
grace.
The fast was spiritually
significant, marking a moment where Moses received God’s direct guidance
for Israel’s future. It was during this period that God’s presence became
visibly manifested, and Moses was transformed. When he returned from the mountain,
Moses' face shone with glory due to his close encounter with God (Exodus
34:29-30). His strength did not come from his own abilities but from the divine
empowerment that sustained him throughout this incredible period of fasting.
In this way, Moses’ experience
echoes the spiritual principle that fasting is an act of dependence on
God. It is not about surviving on one’s own strength but about being filled
with the strength that God provides when His purpose calls for it.
Fasting
as a Spiritual Practice
In biblical times, fasting was more
than a physical act of abstinence; it was a deeply spiritual discipline meant
to bring one closer to God. It was a way to set aside earthly distractions,
focus on divine purposes, and seek God’s will. Moses' fast
exemplifies this principle. His fasting was not a self-imposed test of
endurance, but a humble pursuit of God's presence, guidance, and
blessing. Fasting as a spiritual practice in Moses’ time was always done
with a specific goal: to draw closer to God, to seek divine revelation, and to
align oneself with God’s will.
Unlike modern claims of extreme
fasting or breatharianism, where people claim to survive without
food or water through spiritual energy or force of will, Moses’ fast was
clearly intended to draw him closer to God and not to prove a point
about personal power. Biblical fasting is not about self-reliance or self-sustenance,
but about placing one's trust completely in God’s sustaining grace. In
Moses' case, his fast was marked by seeking God’s direction for leading
Israel, not by an attempt to survive without the basic necessities of life.
This spiritual practice is about devotion to God’s will, and it aligns
one's heart and actions to His divine plan.
Fasting in biblical traditions also
involved the heart's intention, as seen throughout Scripture, where it
was associated with repentance and a willingness to hear from God.
Moses’ fast allowed him to receive the divine revelation necessary for
guiding the Israelites, showing how fasting can be a tool to deepen one's
spiritual insight and effectiveness in carrying out God’s purposes.
The
Role of Divine Strength
Moses' 40-day fast is an example of
how God’s divine strength can sustain individuals beyond what is humanly
possible. Moses was not merely enduring his fast through his own power; he was
actively relying on God to provide the strength and resilience needed
for the experience. In the wilderness, Moses was totally dependent on God for
his survival. This illustrates a key biblical concept: fasting is not about
harnessing one’s own energy or strength but about trusting in God’s power
to sustain and empower us for His purpose.
In stark contrast to modern ideas of
breatharianism, where individuals claim to survive without food and
water through spiritual energy, Moses’ fasting experience highlights the
importance of divine intervention. It’s not about personal mastery or
control over the body’s needs, but about yielding to God’s will and
receiving strength from Him. Fasting in the Bible always requires divine
provision—whether it’s the food provided by God to the Israelites in the
wilderness or the supernatural strength Moses received on Mount Sinai.
For breatharians, their claims to
survive without sustenance through spiritual means often overlook the
biblical truth that fasting is always dependent on God’s strength,
not an individual's ability to exist without food or water. Biblical fasting
calls believers to acknowledge their vulnerability and to surrender their
self-sufficiency in exchange for God’s provision. Moses’ fast,
sustained by divine power, reminds us that true spiritual endurance
comes not from human effort, but from God’s grace.
Conclusion
Moses' 40-day fast on Mount Sinai
offers a profound example of spiritual devotion, underscored by the power of divine
intervention. His endurance was not based on self-sufficiency or the
ability to sustain himself without food, but on God’s strength and sustaining
grace. This stands in stark contrast to modern-day claims like breatharianism,
which suggest that individuals can survive without sustenance through spiritual
means. Biblical fasting, as demonstrated by Moses, is an act of humble
submission to God’s will, where one seeks divine revelation and strength.
Moses' fast was about seeking God, and his divine empowerment is
a reminder that true fasting requires God’s provision. It shows us that
fasting in the Bible is not about personal endurance, but about drawing near
to God and relying on His strength to fulfill His purposes.
Two days before Memorial Day
weekend, the U.S. Army reached out on Twitter with a simple question:
“How has serving impacted you?”
The goal was obvious: draw out
stories of honor, pride, and sacrifice that could be retweeted as feel-good PR.
Instead, what came back was an avalanche of pain. More than 9,600 responses
poured in — raw, unfiltered testimonies of trauma, suicide, abuse, and
disillusionment.
The gap between the Army’s
expectation and what it received revealed something profound: the glamorized
image of military service hides the ruin it leaves behind. Most service
members never even see the front lines. Many serve decades in support roles —
logistics, supply, administration — far from the battlefield. Yet whether in
combat or not, the scars are deep and lasting.
What follows is a distilled
narrative of that thread. The voices are raw because the truth is raw. Together
they form a counter-history, a reminder that service is not always medals,
parades, and flag-waving — but broken bodies, fractured minds, and families
carrying burdens for generations.
Broken
Bodies, Broken Minds
Many veterans spoke of physical
wreckage and mental scars that never heal.
“It’s given me a fractured spine,
TBI, combat PTSD, burn pit exposure, and a broken body with no hope of getting
better. Not even medically retired for a fractured spine. WTF.”
“After I came back from overseas I
couldn’t go into large crowds without a few beers in me. I have nerve damage in
my right ear. My dad was exposed to Agent Orange which destroyed his lungs,
heart, liver and pancreas, killing him at 49. He never met my daughter. I still
drink too much and can’t work days because there are too many people.”
“I’ve had the same nightmare almost
every night for the past 15 years.”
“Hmmm. Let’s see. I lost friends,
have 38 inches of scars, PTSD and a janky arm and hand that don’t work.”
“After coming back from Afghanistan…
Matter fact I don’t even want to talk about it. Just know that my PTSD, bad
back, headaches, chronic pain, knee pain, and other things wishes I would have
NEVER signed that contract. It was NOT worth the pain I’ll endure for the rest
of life.”
The Army wanted stories of strength.
Instead, it got testimonies of bodies wrecked by deployments, training
injuries, and toxic exposure, and minds that relive battles every night.
The
Families Left Behind
The damage does not stop with the
soldier. Families carry the weight.
“My best friend joined the Army
straight out of high school because his family was poor & he wanted a
college education. He served his time & then some. Just as he was ready to
retire he was sent to Iraq. You guys sent him back in a box. It destroyed his
children.”
“My husband was #USArmy, served in
Bosnia and Iraq. That nice, shy, funny guy was gone, replaced with a withdrawn,
angry man… he committed suicide a few years later… when I’m thanked for my
service, I just nod.”
“My father’s successful military
career taught him that he’s allowed to use violence to make people do what he
wants because America gave him that power.”
“My dad served during Vietnam, but
after losing close friends and witnessing the killing of innocents by the U.S.,
he refused to redeploy. He has suffered from PTSD ever since. The bravest thing
he did in the army was refuse to fight any longer.”
Behind every folded flag is a family
torn apart, children growing up without parents, spouses left widowed, siblings
forever haunted.
The
Generational Cost
The harm of service ripples down the
line, reaching children and grandchildren who never wore a uniform.
“My dad was drafted into war and was
exposed to Agent Orange. I was born w multiple physical/neurological
disabilities that are linked back to that chemical. And my dad became an
alcoholic with PTSD and a side of bipolar disorder.”
“I didn’t serve but my dad did. In
Vietnam. It eventually killed him, slowly, over a couple of decades. He never
saw me graduate high school. He never saw me buy my first car. But hey! Y’all
finally paid out 30k after another vet took the VA to the Supreme Court.”
“My grandfather came back from
Vietnam with severe PTSD, tried to drown it in alcohol, beat my father so badly
and so often he still flinches when touched 50 years later. And I grew up with
an emotionally scarred father with PTSD issues of his own because of it.”
From Agent Orange to burn pits, from
untreated trauma to inherited patterns of abuse, the cost of war travels down
bloodlines. The glamour of “service” hides the fact that the wounds don’t stop
with the uniform.
The
Silence and the Stigma
Many of the most devastating
testimonies had nothing to do with combat. They were about what happened inside
the ranks.
“My daughter was raped while in the
Army. An all male staff tried to convince her to give the guy a break because
it would ruin his life. She persisted. Wouldn’t back down. Did a tour in Iraq.
Now suffers from PTSD.”
“I spent ten years in the military.
I worked 15 hour days to make sure my troops were taken care of. In return for
my hard work I was rewarded with three military members raping me. I was never
promoted to a rank that made a difference. And I have an attempt at suicide.
F*** you!”
“I actually didn’t get around to
serving because I was sexually assaulted by three of my classmates during a
military academy prep program. They went to the academies and are still active
duty officers. I flamed out of the program and have PTSD.”
Silence is enforced. Assault
survivors are pressured to protect perpetrators. Veterans with injuries are
told they’re malingering. PTSD is stigmatized. The institution itself becomes
another battlefield.
Suicide:
The Unspoken Epidemic
Thread after thread returned to the
same end: suicide.
“Someone I loved joined right out of
high school even though I begged him not to. Few months after his deployment
ended, we reconnected. One night, he told me he loved me and then shot himself
in the head.”
“The dad of my best friend when I
was in high school had served in the army. He struggled with untreated PTSD
& severe depression for 30 years… Christmas Eve of 2010, he went to their
shed to grab the presents & shot himself in the head.”
“Recently attended the funeral for a
West Point grad with a 4yr old and a 7yr old daughter because he blew his face
off to escape his PTSD but that’s nothing new.”
“My best friend from high school was
denied his mental health treatment and forced to return to a third tour in
Iraq… He took a handful of sleeping pills and shot himself in the head two
weeks before deploying.”
According to the Department of
Veterans Affairs, an average of 20 veterans die by suicide every single day.
That’s more than 6,000 lives lost every year — far outpacing combat deaths.
The
Illusion of Combat
The irony is that most who serve
never see combat. Only about 10–15 percent of military personnel are front-line
troops. The rest are mechanics, cooks, clerks, supply officers, intelligence
analysts, IT specialists — the machinery behind the war machine.
Many units have not seen a
battlefield since World War II. And yet these soldiers still come home broken.
“Chronic pain with a 0% disability
rating (despite medical discharge) so no benefits, and anger issues that I cope
with by picking fistfights with strangers.”
“I’m permanently disabled because I
trained through severe pain after being rejected from the clinic for
‘malingering.’ Turns out my pelvis was cracked and I ended up having to have
hip surgery when I was 20 years old.”
For every soldier shown storming
beaches in recruitment ads, there are dozens stuck in warehouses, motor pools,
kitchens, or offices. They don’t make the highlight reels — but they carry the
same depression, trauma, and broken marriages. The glamour of combat conceals
the far larger reality of quiet devastation.
Beyond
the Flag and the Fireworks
For the public, Memorial Day is
barbecues and fireworks. For veterans, the fireworks are triggers — sounds of
war that send them pacing their houses, checking rooms, waking up screaming.
As one respondent wrote:
“I don’t know anyone in my family
who doesn’t suffer from PTSD due to serving. One is signed off sick due to it
& thinks violence is ok. Another (navy) turned into a psycho & thought
domestic violence was the answer to his wife disobeying his orders.”
Another captured the hypocrisy more
bluntly:
“All governments only use them as
cannon fodder. They were never expected to come home alive. The U.S. government
still thinks of them as expendables and they always will.”
Conclusion:
What Real Service Means
The Army wanted a PR boost. What it
got was a digital monument to devastation.
Real service, according to those who
lived it, means:
Scars that don’t heal.
Children growing up without parents.
Generations carrying chemical and emotional fallout.
Families ripped apart by violence, addiction, and
despair.
And yet — there is courage here. The
courage of veterans and families who refused to let their pain be hidden behind
flags and slogans.
One responder said it best:
“First they experience war on the
outside, then war on the inside. It all leaves scars. We need to talk more
about this.”
Talking is the first step. But
honoring veterans must mean more than parades and platitudes. It means
listening to these voices, holding leaders accountable, and providing real
care. Until then, “thank you for your service” remains a hollow phrase — one
more piece of glamour papering over ruin.
Water sustains life. It composes the
majority of our bodies, covers the surface of the earth, and serves as the
foundation for agriculture, civilization, and ritual. Yet despite its
centrality, water remains one of the least understood substances. Modern
science tends to reduce it to a formula — H₂O — and a prescription: drink more.
But history, Scripture, and careful observation suggest water is not merely
chemistry. It is living or dead, structured or stagnant, abundant or scarce,
and it plays a role in human vitality deeper than we imagine.
This article examines the
distinction between living water and dead water, drawing from
biblical accounts, scientific discoveries, suppressed research, and daily
practices. It argues that humanity’s decline in stature, health, and longevity
is linked not only to sin and cellular degeneration, but also to the
degradation of water itself.
1.
Water in the Bible: Living and Bitter Streams
Scripture is saturated with references
to water — not as mere liquid, but as a spiritual metaphor and physical
reality.
Genesis 2:10:
A river flowed out of Eden to water the garden, symbolizing the primal
abundance of living water.
Exodus 15:23–25:
Israel encountered bitter waters at Marah that had to be healed by divine
intervention, foreshadowing the difference between living and dead water.
Psalms 23:2:
David speaks of being led beside “still waters” that restore the soul.
Jeremiah 2:13:
God laments that His people “have forsaken Me, the fountain of living
waters, and hewn out cisterns, broken cisterns that can hold no water.”
Ezekiel 47:1–12:
The prophet envisions waters flowing from the Temple, bringing life
wherever they go — even healing the salty Dead Sea.
John 4:14:
Jesus tells the Samaritan woman that the water He gives will become in one
“a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
John 7:37–39:
On the last day of the feast, Jesus declares, “Whoever believes in me, out
of his heart will flow rivers of living water.”
Revelation 22:1–2:
The final vision of Scripture is a river of the water of life, flowing
from the throne of God and the Lamb, bringing healing to the nations.
Throughout Scripture, living
water is pure, flowing, and restorative. Dead water is stagnant,
bitter, and life-denying. This duality mirrors what science now rediscovers in
structured vs. unstructured water.
2.
Primary Water: The Earth’s Hidden Reservoirs
Most people are taught that all
water comes from the hydrological cycle: evaporation, condensation,
precipitation, runoff, aquifers. But a forgotten science points to another
source: primary water. Generated deep within the earth through geologic
and chemical processes, primary water emerges as springs and fountains
independent of rainfall.
Researchers in the mid-20th century
suggested that up to 90% of earth’s usable water could be primary water.
Springs that flow abundantly even in drought conditions may be evidence of this
subterranean reservoir. Viktor Schauberger, the Austrian forester, believed
this water was structured, charged, and biologically superior.
Control of wells and springs shaped
civilizations. Abraham’s disputes over wells (Genesis 21) highlight how access
to fresh flowing water meant survival, prosperity, and covenantal blessing.
Even today, the privatization of springs echoes these ancient conflicts.
This changes the scarcity narrative.
Water is not limited, fragile, or dwindling. It is abundant, renewable, and
regenerative — if we draw from the right sources.
3.
The Body as a Spring: Mitochondrial Water
Just as the earth produces water, so
does the human body. Inside each cell, mitochondria generate not only ATP
(cellular energy) but also metabolic water — highly pure, structured
water created as a byproduct of respiration.
This means hydration is not merely
about external intake but internal production. A person with healthy
mitochondria may generate all the water their cells require. By contrast, when
mitochondria are compromised by toxins, poor diet, or lack of sunlight, water
production declines, leaving tissues “dehydrated” even when fluid intake is
high.
Dr. Gerald Pollack’s research on the
“fourth phase of water,” or Exclusion Zone (EZ) water, shows that water
within the body forms structured layers near proteins and membranes, charged by
light and electrical energy. This is the water of vitality.
Nature offers parallels: desert
beetles collect water from fog through micro-structured shells; camels produce
metabolic water by breaking down fat. Creation itself witnesses to the truth
that water is not only taken in but made from within.
4.
Dead Water vs. Living Water
The difference between water that
gives life and water that drains it can be summarized:
Dead Water:
Tap water laden with chlorine, fluoride, microplastics, and
pharmaceuticals. Bottled water stored in plastic. Stagnant reservoirs.
These lack structure and electrical vitality.
Living Water:
Spring water rising naturally. Primary water drawn from deep fissures.
Vortexed, mineral-rich, sun-charged water. Structured water produced in
mitochondria.
Dead water accumulates as waste in
tissues, fostering disease. Living water charges, cleanses, and restores.
Disease, in this paradigm, is essentially the body filled with stagnant,
uncharged fluid.
5.
Scarcity, Control, and the Narrative of Fear
Modern governments and institutions
thrive on narratives of scarcity. Fossil fuels are said to be rare, though
evidence of abiotic oil challenges this. Food is said to be scarce, though
global production could feed all. And water is declared finite, fragile, and on
the brink of collapse.
But the truth points otherwise. By
promoting fear of drought, institutions maintain centralized control, privatize
resources, and condition dependence. Scarcity is less a fact than a programming
tool. To tell people “you may run out of water” is to keep them tethered to
fear and submission, rather than freedom and creativity.
6.
Health Consequences of Dead Water
When people drink liters of dead
water daily, problems arise:
Dilution of electrolytes, leading to imbalance.
Edema,
as tissues hold unstructured fluids.
Cellular stagnation,
with water failing to conduct bioelectric charge.
By contrast, living hydration
practices focus on:
Supporting mitochondria with clean diet and sunlight.
Consuming mineral-rich, structured water in small
amounts.
Restoring electrolytes with unrefined salts and trace
minerals.
Eating hydrating foods like cucumbers, aloe,
watermelon, celery, and leafy greens — all rich in structured water.
7.
Daily Rituals for Living Hydration
Practical steps include:
Begin the day with seawater plasma (diluted) or
mineralized spring water.
Use vortexing devices or natural spiraling to
re-energize water.
Drink modest amounts of structured water with lemon.
Consume fermented drinks: kefir, kvass, bone broth.
Limit plain water unless it is primary or
spring-sourced.
Seek sunlight daily to charge internal water.
Ground barefoot to connect with earth’s electrical
field.
Practice gratitude and prayer, which organize the
body’s energy.
A sample “living hydration day”
might begin with sunlight, salt minerals, and a short grounding walk; continue
with modest spring water intake, fresh fruits, and ferments; and conclude with
bone broth and prayer before rest. This pattern restores the charge of the
body’s fluids.
8.
Suppression of Inconvenient Water Truths
Patterns of suppression abound. Just
as reports of giant skeletons were quietly buried, so too research on water’s
vitality is often ignored. Schauberger’s discoveries were marginalized. His
vortex machines, which could purify and energize water, were seized and
forgotten. Pollack’s structured water experiments remain outside mainstream
curricula. Even hydration protocols that challenge “eight glasses a day” dogma
are dismissed.
Springs have been commercialized,
capped, or privatized, shifting communities from abundance to dependence.
Suppression follows a pattern: discovery, initial excitement, institutional
intervention, disappearance. Whether in archaeology, biology, or hydrology, the
pattern repeats. The public is left with the flat, lifeless narrative.
9.
Water, Angels, and the Spiritual Dimension
The Bible portrays not only human
giants but angelic beings associated with water, darkness, and judgment. Jude
1:6 speaks of angels “kept in everlasting chains under gloom.” Water, too, can
carry gloom — when stagnant, polluted, and lifeless. By contrast, angels at the
resurrection are associated with dazzling light and living water.
The imagery is not coincidental.
Just as living water represents divine vitality, dead water reflects
corruption, stagnation, and separation from God.
Cultural parallels abound: the
Mesopotamian search for the “water of life,” Hindu legends of “Amrita,” and
Taoist quests for the elixir of immortality all echo the biblical promise of
living water. Humanity knows, deep within, that life is bound to water — but
only when it flows, sparkles, and carries the breath of heaven.
10.
Conclusion: Returning to the Fountain
Living water is more than hydration
— it is alignment with God, creation, and truth. Dead water symbolizes not only
physical disease but cultural deception. By rediscovering primary water,
supporting mitochondrial vitality, and embracing scriptural wisdom, we return
to the fountain of life.
Isaiah 40:8 reminds us: “The
grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.”
Truth, like living water, cannot be buried forever. Though suppressed, it flows
again.
Revelation closes Scripture with a
river of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and the Lamb.
That is both promise and invitation. To drink living water is not only to
restore the body, but to restore humanity to its intended stature — physically,
spiritually, and intellectually.
After the spears were thrown without hitting, the hissing boomerangs came flying over to us...
In 1848, German naturalist Ludwig Leichhardt attempted to cross the entire Australian continent. Tragically, he and his men were never seen again. Leichhardt had arrived in Australia in 1842 and spent two years exploring the mountains between Sydney and Brisbane. Alongside his studies of plants, animals, and geography, he also documented the ancient foraging cultures that were rapidly disappearing.
The narration in this video is taken directly from his diaries:
“I have observed the Aboriginal people in many situations. I have seen them as remnants of powerful tribes, living in humpies outside public houses, and I have seen them as members of proud, independent, and warlike clans.
In my journal, I made many remarks about their astuteness and determination.
The black man, armed, is no coward. Calmly, he meets his enemies. His only fears are of unknown dangers—such as the ‘wild blacks,’ whom his superstitions endow with great power, and of course, the white man with his horse and gun.”
Leichhardt reflected on the similarities between Indigenous Australians and ancient Europeans:
“Let us return to the time when the free German lived in his cold forest. It seems to me there is little difference between them and the blacks of this region.
They live in small family groups. The whole tribe only gathers to fight, and rarely do friendly tribes gather together.
They have no formal chiefs—only elders with some degree of influence. Boys are gradually initiated into the knowledge of the elders. Marriages occur either by capturing a woman or by being granted one by a member of a friendly tribe, often as a reward for bravery in battle.
Many men have three or more wives.”
Their battles resembled tournaments more than wars:
“Both sides begin with a battle song, then stand in lines opposite one another. They throw spears, woomeras, and wadis, which are also used in close combat. Shields are used for defense.
Rarely is anyone killed, though many are wounded. Each man seems to have a specific opponent, making the general battle resemble a series of individual duels.
When one man falls or is badly wounded, his allies immediately throw their spears at the attacker. Unable to avoid them all, the aggressor usually flees or is struck down by this coordinated retaliation.
Blood revenge remains upon him until he is either killed or appeases the victim’s relatives through gifts.
True extermination battles appear to be unknown. I only heard of one nocturnal raid—told to me by Baker, who lived with the blacks for 14 years—where the attacking tribe was pursued and many were killed, including women and children. This, however, was exceptional. Normally, women and children are spared.”
Fear of other tribes and spirits deeply influenced daily life:
“They try to do as much harm as possible to enemy tribes, for they live in constant fear of being captured. A black man never travels alone. He always has a companion to keep watch while he climbs trees in search of possums or honey. When I accompanied them and a man climbed for me, he always asked me to keep watch for enemy blacks.
Their fear of surprise attack is matched only by their fear of spirits, with which their imagination populates the forest and night.
All unknown blacks are considered enemies, and they fear them greatly.
Southern tribes call these strangers ‘miles,’ while locals refer to them as ‘jakurus.’
Joint corroboree dances signal peace and alliances.”
Weapon use varied between tribes:
“The Sydney and Hunter region blacks are expert spear-throwers.
Those from the Liverpool Plains excel with the woomera.
Those around Moreton Bay are most skilled with the nulla nulla or wadi, weapons they constantly practice with while hunting kangaroos and kangaroo rats.
Mr. Thomas Archer once constructed a bow, and I feared the blacks would adopt this dangerous weapon. Surprisingly, they had no interest.
This reluctance is similar to what occurred in Europe. Even when the Chinese knew of firearms, they kept using bows. Only when confronted by a superior enemy do people adopt superior weapons.
Aboriginal people do not use tomahawks, even though these could inflict far more deadly wounds than their traditional wadis.
Superstition is another weapon—they believe in magical ways of harming enemies, such as conjuring stones into their bodies. Illnesses are explained this way, and the term yaka mudlu describes such sorcery. They travel to high mountains, stay overnight, and conduct rituals to enact these spells.
Every illness, they say, is caused by black magic from an enemy tribe.”
A striking example from Mr. Rusten’s station illustrates their resilience:
“There was a black woman, Suzanne, whom an elder named Old Jerry struck on the head with a nulla nulla. The blow was so severe that her brain was visible. Miraculously, although pregnant, she neither miscarried nor died. She fully recovered in about 12 days.
A young man, Morris, wished to marry her. Mr. Rusten ordered that Suzanne be removed from the hut. She was banished, but she wanted nothing more to do with the tribe that had mistreated her. She set out alone toward the Namoi River.
Morris waylaid her and brought her back. Later, King Steffy—leader of the tribe—struck her violently in the side for attempting to leave. Despite being pregnant, she survived the blow.”
A major fight broke out the next day:
“On 9 May, just before I left Rooen Station, I heard shouting behind the house. I rushed out and saw our black guests in hand-to-hand combat. Suzanne, pregnant and injured, cried out in anguish. She was eventually led to her fire while the men continued fighting.
Morris, a strong young man, entered the fray with another, both armed with helman shields and nulla nullas. They began calmly, almost formally, trading heavy blows, parried with the helman. After several hits, Morris’s opponent collapsed.
Morris fled, chased by the remaining men, while women and even a blind man surrounded the fallen fighter, cradling his head, wiping the blood, and waving away flies.
His lip had been split, and his jaw crushed, though thankfully not broken.
Meanwhile, others fought all around. Most blows were delivered from behind—opponents sneaking up and striking heads. Eventually, the chaos broke into individual duels.”
One memorable duel stood out:
“King Steffy, a strong and well-built man, fought Jimmy using spears, boomerangs, and nulla nullas.
After their spears missed, the hissing boomerangs were launched. They seemed aimed at each other’s feet. Both men avoided them by leaping into the air. The boomerangs soared high and landed far behind the opponents.
When the boomerangs were spent, they closed in and threw their nulla nullas. One struck Tommy, slicing a piece of skin below his ankle.
With that, this particular fight ended, and others caught our attention.
The women tried to intervene, screaming and attempting to separate fighters, but when it was clear they couldn’t, they simply waited for the outcome.”
“Few escaped unscathed. Many were covered in blood, looking like cannibals.
While the wounded lay around or limped through the field, the white settlers looked on idly. When I attempted to intervene, most stopped me, saying:
‘Let them beat each other to death. Then we’ll be rid of them. The more, the better.’
I have seen similar fights throughout the colony. I don’t blame the settlers for this—it is the government’s failure.
Fights like these, among a passionate people unable to discharge their rivalries against traditional enemies, will eventually devastate the male black population.”
formatted script with timestamps:
[0:00] Narrator:
After the spears were thrown without hitting, the hissing boomerangs came flying over to us.
[0:08] Narrator:
In 1848, German naturalist Ludwig Leichhardt attempted to cross the Australian continent. Tragically, he and his men were never seen again.
[0:18] Narrator:
Leichhardt arrived in Australia in 1842 and spent two years exploring the mountainous region between Sydney and Brisbane. Alongside his studies of plants, animals, and geography, he also documented ancient foraging cultures that were rapidly disappearing.
[0:34] Narrator:
The following passages are taken directly from his diaries.
[0:37] Leichhardt (diary excerpt):
I have observed the blacks in many circumstances. I’ve seen them as remnants of powerful tribes, living in humpies outside public houses. And I’ve seen them as members of proud, independent, warlike clans.
[0:50] Leichhardt:
The black man, armed, is no coward. Calmly he meets his enemies. He only fears the unknown—like the wild blacks, whom superstition endows with power—or the white man, with horse and gun.
[1:17] Leichhardt:
Let us return to the time when the free German lived in his cold forest. I see little difference between him and the blacks of this region.
[1:27] Leichhardt:
They live in small family groups. The whole tribe only comes together to fight—and rarely with friendly tribes.
They have no formal chiefs—only elders with some influence. Boys are gradually initiated into tribal secrets.
[1:42] Leichhardt:
Marriage occurs either by stealing a wife or receiving one from another tribe—often as a reward for bravery. Many men have three or more wives.
[1:55] Leichhardt:
Their battles resemble tournaments. Both sides sing battle songs, then stand in lines and throw spears, woomeras, and wadis. Shields are used for defense.
[2:16] Leichhardt:
Rarely is anyone killed, though many are wounded. Each man targets a specific opponent, making these battles resemble duels. If one falls, his allies immediately throw their spears at the attacker—who either flees or is struck down.
[2:46] Leichhardt:
Blood revenge follows unless the attacker is killed or offers gifts to the victim’s kin.
[2:56] Leichhardt:
Extermination battles seem absent. I only heard of one night raid—told by Baker, who lived with them for 14 years. The raid was foiled. The defenders pursued and killed many, including women and children—though such acts are rare.
[3:21] Leichhardt:
Blacks avoid falling into enemy hands at all costs. They never walk alone. A companion stands watch as one climbs for honey or possums. When I accompanied them, they always asked me to guard against hostile tribes.
[3:57] Leichhardt:
Their fear extends to ghosts and spirits imagined in forests and darkness. All unknown blacks are enemies they fear greatly.
[4:11] Narrator:
In southern tribes, strangers are called miles. Locally, they’re called jakurus.
Joint corroboree dances signal peace and alliance.
[4:28] Leichhardt:
Each tribe masters different weapons. Sydney and Hunter blacks are expert spear throwers.
Those on the Liverpool Plains excel with the woomera.
Moreton Bay tribes prefer the nulla nulla or wadi, used in hunting kangaroos and rats.
[4:53] Leichhardt:
When Mr. Thomas Archer built a bow, I feared the blacks might adopt it. But they showed no interest—just as the Chinese knew of guns yet kept the bow. Only a superior enemy forces adoption of superior weapons.
[5:21] Leichhardt:
They don’t use tomahawks, though they could cause worse wounds than the wadi. Their superstition is another weapon—they believe in conjuring stones into an enemy’s body. Illness is explained this way.
[5:44] Leichhardt: Yaka mudlu is the term for such sorcery. They climb to mountain tops, stay overnight, and perform ceremonies. All illness is blamed on such black magic.
[6:12] Narrator:
One remarkable case happened at Mr. Rusten’s station...
[6:15] Narrator:
A black woman named Suzanne was struck on the head by Old Jerry with a nulla nulla. Her brain was exposed. Miraculously, though pregnant, she recovered in just 12 days.
[6:32] Narrator:
A young man named Morris wished to marry Suzanne. Mr. Rusten ordered her removed from the hut. She was banished. But Suzanne, hurt and shamed, tried to continue her journey to the Namoi River.
[6:56] Narrator:
Morris ambushed her and brought her back. Later, King Steffy—tribal leader—struck her violently in the side for trying to leave.
[7:28] Narrator:
On May 9, the day before I left Rooen Station, loud shouting outside drew me from my room.
[7:33] Narrator:
Our black guests were engaged in full combat. Suzanne, heavily pregnant, had been struck again by King Steffy. Her cries filled the air. She was led back to her fire as the men continued fighting.
[8:02] Narrator:
Morris entered the fray alongside another man. Armed with helman and nulla nulla, they traded heavy blows.
After several strikes, Morris’s opponent collapsed. Morris fled, pursued by the others.
[8:29] Narrator:
Women and a blind man gathered around the fallen fighter, cradling his head, wiping blood, waving away flies. His lip was split and jaw injured, but not broken.
[8:52] Narrator:
Morris endured further fighting, but allies came to his defense. Chaos erupted. Most blows came from behind—fighters sneaking up and aiming for the head.
[9:09] Narrator:
Eventually, the crowd scattered and single combat duels emerged. One notable match was between King Steffy and Jimmy.
[9:23] Narrator:
They fought with spears, boomerangs, and nulla nullas.
After missing with spears, boomerangs hissed through the air, thrown low and dodged by both men springing upward.
[9:49] Narrator:
When the boomerangs were spent, they hurled their nulla nullas. One boomerang struck Tommy below the ankle, cutting deeply.
[10:04] Narrator:
That fight subsided. Others drew our attention.
Throughout, women tried to intervene—screaming, separating men—but when they failed, they waited silently for the outcome.
[10:22] Narrator:
Few escaped without injury. Blood covered many, making them appear like cannibals.
[10:32] Narrator:
As the wounded limped or lay bleeding, white settlers watched idly. When I tried to intervene, they stopped me, saying:
[10:43] Settlers (mocking):
"Let them beat each other to death. Then we’ll be rid of them. The more the better."
[10:52] Narrator:
I’ve seen such battles across the colony. And I don’t blame the settlers—but the government.
[11:03] Narrator:
Fights like this, frequent among a people whose passions once focused on rival tribes, will soon devastate the male Aboriginal population.
