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The Source of Techno Music


I am 38 years old, am married to a marvelous woman, and have four children. The story I am about to relate began when I was 13-14 years old. That was when I was introduced to a man called Harris who traveled about Poland posing as a touch healer. Just a couple of sessions with him were enough to start the gradual process of my leaving the Church.

Each subsequent year removed me further from the altar until one day I found myself outside the Church altogether. When I was 18 years old, I had the opportunity of leaving Poland, which I was quick to seize. I found myself in Germany. Throughout my stay there I grew increasingly more self-centered. I began to break God’s commandments more often and in increasingly more serious ways.

The early nineties in Europe saw the start of what is still called “the Techno culture.” Young people began gathering at large events; a new kind of computer-generated music came into being, along with new drugs, a new language and a new look. All this was very appealing. Since my background was in electronic music, I was very quick to immerse myself in this new world. My interest in creating new sound equipment brought me into contact with a group of people who happened to be at the very center of this movement. It was here that I met Peter, one of the movement’s ideologues. When I sat down opposite him for the first time, I soon realized I was dealing with an extraordinary person. He was a professor at one of America’s film schools and a man of broad knowledge. For many years he had conducted research on the workings of the brain and carried out lighting experiments at nightclubs. At the time, he was the movement’s chief ideologue and producer of mind-controlling films shown at mass events. After our talk he invited me to come work with him and to learn about his work. A while later, he told me of an upcoming Mediterranean cruise. 350 people from around the world — the chief creators of the Techno movement — would be taking part in it. Knowing that I was a cameraman, he asked me to come along and take pictures for him. After looking the pictures over, he offered to become my mentor. He told me he had been looking for someone like me for 14 years. It gradually dawned on me that he wanted me to take over his life’s work, as he was getting on in years. And so my great adventure began. 

My personality began to change. This was reflected in my physical appearance. I dyed my hair and began to dress differently. I received more and more work from the movement’s inner circle and threw myself heart and soul into its operations.

In the summer of 1995, I found out that my girlfriend — now my wife — was pregnant. Peter told me that the events about to play themselves out over the next few years would require all our concentration and attention. The child wasn’t a problem. All we had to do was see a doctor and everything would be taken care of. In a few years time, if we still felt like it, we could have a child then. Thank God we did not agree to this and thus averted an abortion.

All this time Peter was forming me. He had special videocassettes prepared for me. I received books to read from his vast library. We met regularly and discussed what I had read. Zen and Buddhism made up the spiritual basis of the movement. I observed everything that took place on the scene and learned their “meta-language,” 

In the winter of 1996, something changed. Until that time the music they palyed had been rather positive. The image of the world it presented harked back to the days of the hippie subculture. My house is your house. We are one family. These were some of the slogans. Now, all of a sudden, the sound took on a darker tone. There were more beats to the minute. An element of aggression set in. The people who had served as carriers of the central message now wore t-shirts with slogans like “Worldwide Terror.” Others sported military fatigues, death symbols, rifles and pistols. I asked Peter what was going on. He told me this was only a short-lived change — a turn in the road. Everything would soon go off in a different direction.

Spring 1966. Our baby’s delivery date was fast approaching. We expected it some time during Holy Week. We checked in at the hospital for the first time on Good Friday, and for a second time on Easter Saturday. On the Sunday of the Resurrection of Our Lord, our son Robert was born. Peter flew in from Amsterdam so as to hold the child in his arms and be with him one on one. We agreed to this since he was our friend. A night or two after our return to Poland, we noticed that our son was beginning to behave strangely. Weird, unpleasant sounds came out of his mouth. But this usually lasted for an hour or so at night. For the rest of the time everything was normal, so we tried not to think about it. A number of other disturbing things happened around this time. This set us thinking. By now the various signs and parts of the puzzle I had observed were beginning to come together to form a chilling picture.

I decided that, on arriving in Dortmund, I should have a serious talk with Peter and get to the bottom of things. I traveled to Dortmund on April 30th to take part in the world’s largest musical “event” called May Day. This is the night of April 30th – May 1st, when, according to the beliefs of the ancient Teutons, the Goddess of Love made love to the God of War. Sex coupled with violence produces perversion. On this night 20 thousand young people gathered for a “rave” in Dortmund’s largest dancehall. Here also worked people who had mastered the art of manipulating the setting. When I arrived there, Peter told me I had to be especially on my toes that night because what they were going to show on the screens was also for my own edification. The time had come for me to be told who they were, what they were doing, and why.

At one o’ clock in the morning the operating team changed. The so-called “first circle” took over to the accompaniment of lasers, lights, videos and music. But it was only after the television stations had left that the real work began. They dimmed the lights and Peter began projecting his terrible images. They represented the world at war, culminating in global nuclear war and utter destruction. Also represented were people belonging to the Techno scene taking control of non-participants. Outsiders would not have understood these images, but I did; to me the symbolism was only too clear. Every time I grasped the meaning of some image, I would look at Peter and nod for the next piece of information. Meanwhile, the rave went on: thousands of watts were pumped electronically into the hall in walls of sound and light. In the very center of the hall hung a cross-shaped structure consisting of batteries of lights whose colors could be changed at will. The whole thing hung by chains that could be pulled so that the cross swung over the heads of the dancers. Meanwhile, they would project all kinds of graphic images onto it with lasers.

There came a moment when the symbols became all too readable and I understood what was happening and who I was dealing with. I understood that these people were Satanists leading the world’s youth to destruction. I was one of them, and there was no way back for me — or so it seemed at first. All kinds of thoughts began rushing through my head. I realized that an open door stood before me. Ahead was the tantalizing prospect of doing whatever I felt like doing, of working at whatever I wanted, choosing the people I wanted to work with, and money being no object. It occurred to me then that in choosing this, I would have to leave behind my wife and child, as they could not go where I was going. It was then that I experienced a special warning grace from God. With utter clarity I saw what lay in store for me at the end of all this — eternal damnation. I sensed what it would be like to be a soul plummeting into darkness in a powerful, appallingly hopeless and terrible free-fall. Suddenly, not knowing what I was doing, like a man with a gun to his head, like someone drowning in a wild sea of music and lights, with everything around me cranked up to maximum volume, I fell on my knees and began crying out the words of the Lord’s Prayer. I had no sooner uttered the first words, when I saw before me the white figure of Michael the Archangel with a sword in his hand. He asked me three questions: Do you believe in God? Do you renounce Satan? Are you willing to join battle with him? To each of these questions I replied “yes.” He told me to rise and walk toward the light.

Miraculously I got out of there. God made sure I left the place in safety. I walked eastwards, toward the rising sun. I decided to go to Berlin, and then on back to Poland. It had become clear to me what I was involved in. I went from church to church, seeking shelter, but everywhere the doors were locked. I was unable to gain admittance to a single priest. No one would open the door. The Evil One attacked me directly. Once he even showed himself to me; but at that moment I was seized by the strongest conviction (it would subsequently help me in every situation) that I believed in God and that the Devil could do me no harm. Braced by this thought, I walked on. The following night I reached Berlin. A train bound for Poland stood waiting at the station. I boarded it. An hour or so later a great peace of mind came over me. I had crossed the border. I realized this was the result of the prayers of thousands of people, of all those generations who had waged active spiritual warfare and begged for God’s mercy. On arriving home, I apprized my wife and parents of what had happened. I was aware that the Devil had an easy claim on me because of my sins and the way I had lived my life. I knew I needed to go to confession, to see a priest who would not make light of my experience. My mother suggested two priests that might be of help.

I went to see one of these. It turned out he was busy supervising construction work out in front of the church. As I looked for him in the square, a woman approached me for help. It turned out that the statue of Our Lady of Fatima was making a pilgrimage throughout Central and Eastern Europe; it was due to arrive in our city in three days. I agreed to help carry the church cross to the site that was being prepared for the occasion. For the first time in my life I went willingly inside a church and made my confession. After receiving the sacrament of reconciliation i.e. being purified of my sins and armed against attacks from Satan, I was immediately given a real cross to carry — a cross so heavy that it cut into my shoulder. I was unable to carry it without help. I carried that cross down Saint John Street in a parish dedicated to Mary. The time was around three o’clock in the afternoon. It was then that I clearly heard the words, “If you wish to walk with Me, take up your cross and follow Me.” I wept like a baby. People passed me on their way home from work or to the shops. No one seemed to pay any attention.

About two weeks later, I decided to accompany my mother to the Marian shrine at Jasna Gora. Our Lady had always been a gentle presence at every significant moment of my life. My family had entrusted me to her as a young boy.

On Wednesday, in Czestochowa, I thanked Mary for her help. On Thursday I went to Niepokalanów to the Franciscan Television Network. I was determined to make contact with people who could broadcast my information to a wide audience and warn the world of what was happening. I knew it was only a matter of time before Techno music would spread to Poland. Fortunately, I met a sister of the Congregation of the Sacred Heart, who, after hearing my story, advised me to find a spiritual director. The next day I met some Jesuit Fathers. They invited me to attend the first week of an Ignatian retreat. So began the process of my conversion and purification. Until then I had not realized what I was in God’s eyes and who He was. Now I had to many years of lost time to make up for. I had to learn to read the Scriptures, discern the will of the Lord and follow His footsteps. Thanks to a number of people, whom God placed in my path, I am now engaged in exploring new avenues of evangelization in the media. What we are looking for is a language that will speak to people, one that will communicate the greatest treasures of the Church to those sinking in the culture of death.

I am convinced that we are facing a time of confrontation. Saint Ignatius spoke of two banners: the banner of Christ and His army and that of Satan. Our study of films bears out the truth that the fate of man — his decision for or against Christ — and that of the huge masses of the lukewarm, who say, “Yes, but…” depends on only one question: Who is Jesus Christ for you? Consequently, there is no greater task for us than to evangelize, to shed light on Christ, to affirm the fact that He exists, that He is merciful and waits for us all, that He wants to save, renew and bless us, that the fruits of conversion be enjoyed by as many as possible. I am convinced that everyone who decides to walk with Him represents a flower in the springtime of the Church that Pope John Paul II spoke of. In following Christ, we become flowers illuminated by God’s sunlight — a light given that we may bear fruit and help our brothers and sisters who live in darkness. Life is brief and the fact that some renounce eternity forever is something that we have to understand thoroughly. Every one of us is called to be purified and reconciled with the Lord through His forgiveness, called to stand before Him and ask for the gifts of the Spirit required for the journey forward.

Our Blessed Mother has protected Poland with her mantle of love. As a result, our country has laid up a great many spiritual treasures. Thanks to graces won for them by the prayers of past generations, our people are ready to undertake the struggle. It is time to move out. Jesus prepared His disciples in the space of three years. Many of us have been prepared for ten to fifteen years. Now is the time to go out, to seek His will, to ask Him what He demands of us. It is time to live the Gospel without compromise.

I wish readers of Love One Another Magazine the courage to strike out in accordance with God’s will, that they may become torches that set fire to the world.

I take the occasion here to thank two mothers. First of all, my own mother who serves as an example to those whose children remain in darkness. My mother prayed for me for fifteen years and just when she thought all was lost, God granted me the gift of a conversion. The other mother is Mary, who watches over us all. If we take refuge under her mantle, no harm will come to us. She will crush the head of Satan.

I wish also to thank God our Creator who animates everything and sends us out in His service, Our Lord Jesus Christ who saved us, and the Holy Spirit, who allows us to know the Truth — honor and glory to Him!

Leszek

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