The following lectures are from Wandbua, the historian. Frank channeled these lectures at the same time that he was channeling Reed and the others in circa 1972. From the book The Art of Living by Frank Moore.


Hello, Frank.  This is Wandbua.  I have described the Island of Mann on which at the time of which I am speaking, about 19,000 years ago, there was a culture striving.  This was the culture, rather the tribe, of the nonhuman race which had developed Self-Awareness.  This tribe never numbered more than 204 members on the island.  In the world as a whole, this race were only 4500, compared with the 3100 creatures which would become human and the 4700 of the third race which had Self-Awareness.  On the island this tribe had developed a farming culture, that is, they tended fields of wild grains which grew west of their village, and they also picked berries and a few kinds of fruit in the woods on the nearby “mountain”.  They dried these fruits and also some roots and stored these in common to be eaten in the mild winter.  In the summers, they ate mainly grains and honey.  They lived all together in one village beside the river beside the bay near the “mountain”, which was holy to them.  Their village consisted of primitive huts surrounded by a six foot wooden wall to keep out wild animals, especially the creatures who lived in the woods on the island’s west side.  An individual never went outside of the wall alone. At the center of the village there was the common storage hut for food. Materially these beings were not very advanced.  They only had a communal fire which they never let go out because they didn’t know how to start it again; they had only two stone tools.  One was for digging and another one was for cutting wood.  But inwardly, spiritually, they were very advanced. They lived together in harmony.  Their religion and government were merged into one.  But there were no outside signs of either existing, except for several rituals of coming together.  The first of these was collecting around the communal fire at each sunset and each dawn and singing together until they merged together.  Each individual above the age of eight went into himself and found his own personal song or chant for the coming day or night.  The group stayed around the fire until a group song or chant developed and until every individual’s song had melted into the Group Song, while retaining its individuality.  When this took place, the village would break up to either the day’s work or the night’s sleep.  It is rather interesting to note they hadn’t any musical instruments at all or any formalized concept of what music should be like.  The songs came out of each of them differently, and then went back into them when the songs had combined and everything felt peaceful and whole.  They had a ceremony whenever there was a marriage.  Moreover, whenever there was a child born, the whole village would welcome the spirit back into the village by dancing and singing during late afternoon and by a slow, low chant around the communal fire during the early evening.  Each birth was a happy homecoming of an old friend returning to the village.  After the evening Song, each family would take a flaming stick from the large fire and carefully light a fire just outside of the opening of their hut.  Through the night, three middle-aged persons tended all of the fires in the village, while two more guarded the narrow entrance in the wall.  The middle-age of physical life for these beings was at the age of twenty.  There was one other important ceremony which was burying their dead.  These beings believed that the spirit of a dead person had left the village for just a little while and had gone to a land, which they only vaguely remembered.  They expected the departed spirit to come back in a short time in the body of a baby.  Their burial rite had nothing to do with the departed spirit, but the body now empty, itself.  Three persons went to the valley which was just below the summit of the “mountain”.  This valley was a grassy meadow a half of a mile in width, with a thick wood.  The largest of the island’s fresh water springs was located in this meadow with a large creek flowing down the mountainside until it met the river.  These three would spend a day digging a grave, a hole big enough to put the corpse into, curled up into the fetal position.  While the three persons were doing the hard task of digging, they would sing and chant joyfully together.  But they were sure of being back inside the village before nightfall.  The next day, all of the women of the village above the age of twelve carried the body up the mountainside, singing happily all the way, to the holy meadow.  There they put the body into the fetal position and buried it head up in the grave. By doing so, they were giving the body to Earth from which it had come. They were also giving thanks to Earth for their own bodies.  Births and these burials were the happiest and the most sacred of times for these beings.

Frank, you are getting tired.  Rest tomorrow and we shall continue the day after.  By the way, the remains of this village, as well as the city of Mu on top of it in ruin, and the burial ground, as well as the ruins of the White Brotherhood on top of it, are still there under the sea, covered by twenty-three feet of rock.  Goodbye.