The Journey into 12479

Although this Whitewolf Visions journey into the numbers 12479 was kicked into interstellar gear on May 24, 2015, after uncovering them in a small graveyard in Northern Ontario; the numeric journey truly began in 2009, with the appearance of 12479 at pivotal moments of my life, forcing me to pay close attention to their numeric and otherworldly companions.

In that graveyard in 2015, the numbers 12479 were accompanied by the name George Gordon, and across from his name on a funeral plaque was the name John Murray. Other than the numbers, and the name George Gordon nothing else was familiar to me; until I reached my home, and did some research on the George Gordon whose words moved me just hours before leaving on that trip.

The poetic words of When We Two Parted by George Gordon, Lord Byron had awakened an ache, and a slow-burn in my soul. After researching his birth and death numbers (22.1.1788-4.19.1824), finding many correlations within the numbers of his family and friends, and linking the name John Murray in that Northern Ontario graveyard to Lord Byron’s publisher and friend (John Murray) I decided to begin this book series.

Where following the light of the numbers 12479, and this book series has led me is incredulous, and at times unbelievable. I have only faltered on this path when I was distracted by my own self-doubt, but the numbers, they were always there for me, holding steadfast and strong. Alas, the path has been undoubtedly lit with the celestial light of the universe.

For two years, while working on the books, between 2017 and 2019, I worked in a funeral home as a documentation clerk watching the numbers of life and death pass by. One morning before leaving work, I was working on my books, listening to the radio, when the announcer took my breath away, and made my heart stop with the proclamation of the discovery of exo-planet HD 21749.

My excitement was overwhelming, I had to tell someone, so when I arrived at work I went into the office of my very serious boss and sat across from him. He knew I was working on a book series but knew nothing of it until that morning. I explained to him the significance of the numbers 12479 and then I told him of the newly discovered exo-planet HD 21749, his eyes grew large and he said to me: “Candy, that is your planet, you need to finish your books.”


Photo: “An artist’s conception of HD 21749c, the first Earth-sized planet found by NASA’s Transiting Exoplanets Survey Satellite (TESS), as well as its sibling, HD 21749b, a warm sub-Neptune-sized world. Image credit: Robin Dienel / Carnegie Institution for Science.”

“January 9, 2019:
The newly-discovered planet orbits HD 21749, a K4.5 dwarf star located 53 light-years away in the constellation Reticulum.
The planet is only 10% smaller than Earth and is likely a rocky though uninhabitable world, as it circles its parent star in just 7.8 days — a relatively tight orbit that would generate surface temperatures on the planet of up to 800 degrees Fahrenheit (427 degrees Celsius).
“Measuring the exact mass and composition of such a small planet will be challenging, but important for comparing HD 21749c to Earth,” said co-author Dr. Sharon Wang, a researcher in the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism at Carnegie Institution for Science.
The star also hosts a second planet, HD 21749b, a warm sub-Neptune with a longer, 36-day orbit, which Dr. Wang and colleagues reported previously and now detail further in a paper in the Astrophysical Journal Letters.
HD 21749b has about 23 times Earth’s mass and a radius of about 2.7 times Earth’s.
Its density indicates the planet has substantial atmosphere but is not rocky, so it could potentially help astronomers understand the composition and evolution of cooler sub-Neptune planet atmospheres.
According to the team, the HD 21749 system is a prime target for comparative studies of planetary composition and architecture in multi-planet systems.
“Because TESS monitors stars that are much closer and brighter, we can measure the mass of this planet in the very near future, whereas for Kepler’s Earth-sized planets, that was out of the question,” said lead author Dr. Diana Dragomir, a postdoctoral researcher in MIT’s Kavli Institute for Astrophysics and Space Research.
“So this new TESS discovery could lead to the first mass measurement of an Earth-sized planet. And we’re excited about what that mass could be. Will it be Earth’s mass? Or heavier? We don’t really know.”


Photo: Wikipedia

HD21749 and its companion can be found in the constellation Reticulum, I found it particularly interesting that the orbit of HD 21749B is 36 days.

George Gordon, Lord Byron died on Easter Sunday in Missolonghi, Greece on April 19, 1824 at the age of 36.

Books by Candalee Beatty available on Amazon

Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron, is the beginning of my numeric journey into the numbers 12479 and the 144,000 solar-day Baktun of the Maya, all led to me by the one and only George Gordon, Lord Byron.

Whitewolf Visions: Book III The Serpents Tongue is a book of numbers inspired by the Nine Lords of the Night of Aztec and Maya mythology, and a pattern seen in the 26-letter alphabet. This pattern evolved into the heart of the book, a chart, called C9LN or Charting the Nine Lords of the Night; this chart is the sky written in numbers, and within are the numbers of many Mesoamerican calendrical and cosmic events.

Whitewolf Visions: Book IV Xolotl Presents the Book of Destiny and Fate; is book of numbers birthed from over 700 charts created by multiplying 144,000 into various “years”, and the last five years of cosmic study. Within the book is a realignment of the Maya Long Count, and the path of the Milky Way; otherwise known as the Black Road to the Underworld, and the Wolf Trail. This milky path of numbers illustrates many supernovae and the organic being of light you see in the mirror.

When We Two Parted (1808)
George Gordon, Lord Byron (22.1.1788~19.4.1824)
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow—
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me—
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well—
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?—
With silence and tears.

The Soul of the Indian (Charles Alexander Eastman, Ohiyesa)

While I was travelling to Death Valley in the summer of 2018, I had the pleasure of exploring Mesa Verde, Colorado. At the gift shop my eye was caught by the title of this book, Soul of the Indian by Charles Alexander Eastman (Ohiyesa).


It is a 45 page book that has transformed my life, with its views on Native spirituality I felt closer to my people than I have in a long time. It was like something was missing from me and this book has helped me on my path to the Great Mystery.

Dr. Eastman was the only doctor available to the victims of Wounded Knee in December 1890.

Here I have transcribed the pieces that touched me most.

Tiniki, miigwetch, thank you.

The Soul of the Indian, Charles Alexander Eastman (Ohiyesa), Dover Publications, 1911, 2003

After Dartmouth he went through Boston University Medical School, where his fellow class members elected him to deliver the oration during their graduation in June 1890. Later that year Dr. Eastman got his first job: physician for the Indian Agency at Pine Ridge, South Dakota.

At Pine Ridge, (where he became known as the “white doctor who is an Indian”) two life-altering events occurred. The first was meeting the woman who destined to become his wife-Elaine Goodale, a white Massachusetts woman (newly appointed as supervisor of Indian Education for the Dakotas) who had learned to speak the Lakota language (somewhat different from the Dakota Ohiyesa spoke) and who had written intelligently on Indian education. The second was Wounded Knee. Pg. vi and vii

Although Eastman had adopted many of the white man’s ways, this bitter sight destroyed any hope that those ways might be superior to those of his own people. “It took all my nerve to keep my composure in the face of this spectacle,” he later wrote, “and of the excitement and grief of my Indian companions, nearly every one of them was crying aloud or singing his death song.”


The religion of the Indian is the last thing about him that the man of another race will ever understand. Pg xv.

It took all my nerve to keep.jjhjghjpg

The original attitude of the American Indian toward the Eternal, the “Great Mystery” that surrounds and embraces us, was as simple as it was exalted. To him it was the supreme conception, bringing with it the fullest measure of joy and satisfaction possible in this life.

The worship of the “Great Mystery” was silent, solitary, free from all self-seeking. It was silent, because all speech is of necessity feeble and imperfect, therefore the souls of my ancestors ascended to God in wordless adoration. Pg.1


All who have lived much out of doors know that there is a magnetic and nervous force that accumulates in solitude and that is quickly dissipated by life in a crowd; even his enemies have recognized the fact that for a certain innate power and self-poise, wholly independent of circumstances, the American Indian is unsurpassed among men. Pg. 3

There was no religious ceremony connected with marriage among us, while on the other hand the relation between man and woman was regarded as in itself mysterious and holy. It appears that where marriage is solemnized by the church and bless by the priest, it may at the same time be surrounded with customs and idea of a frivolous, superficial, and even prurient character. We believed that two who love should be united in secret, before the public acknowledgment of their union, and should taste their apotheosis alone with nature. The betrothal might or might not be discussed and approved by the parents, but in either case it was customary for the young pair to disappear into wilderness, there to pass some days, or weeks in perfect seclusion and dual solitude, afterward returning to the village as man and wife. Pg. 10


In the life of the Indian where was only one inevitable duty, – the duty of prayer-the daily recognition of the Unseen and Eternal. His daily devotions were more necessity to him than daily food. He wakes at daybreak puts on his moccasins and steps down to the water’s edge. Here he throws handfuls of clear, cold water into his face, or plunges in bodily. After the bath, he stands erect before the advancing dawn, facing the sun as it dances upon the horizon, and offers his unspoken orison. His mate may precede or follow him in his devotions, but never accompanies him. Each soul must meet the morning sun, the new, sweet earth, and the Great Silence alone! Pg. 12


The legend tells us that when fall came, the First-Born advised his younger brother to make for himself a warm tent of buffalo skins, and to store up much food. No sooner has he done this that it began to snow, and the snow fell steadily during many moons. The Little Boy Man made for himself snow-shoes, and was thus enabled to hunt easily, while the animals fled from him with difficulty. Finally wolves, foxes, and ravens came to his door to beg for food, and he helped them, but many of the fiercer wild animals died of cold and starvation.

One day, when the hungry ones appeared, the snow was higher than the tops of the teepee poles, but the Little Boy Man’s fire kept a hole open and clear. Down the hole they peered, and lo! The man had rubbed ashes on his face by the advice of his Elder Brother, and they both lay silently and motionless on either side of the fire.

Then the fox barked and the raven cawed his signal to the wandering tribes, and they all rejoices and said: “Now they are both dying and dead, and we shall have no more trouble!” But the sun appeared, and a warm wind melted the snow-banks, so that the land was full of water. The young man and his Teacher made a birch-bark canoe, which floated upon the surface of the flood, which of the animals there were saved only a few, who had found a foothold upon the highest peaks.

The youth had now passed triumphantly through the various ordeals of his manhood. One day his Elder Brother spoke to him and said: “You have now conquered the animal people, and withstood the force of the elements. You have subdued the earth to your will, and still you are alone! It is time to go forth and find a woman whom you can love, and by whose help you may reproduce your kind.”

“But how am I to do this?” replied the first man, who was only an inexperienced boy. “I am here alone, as you say, and I know not where to find a woman or a mate!”

“Go forth and seek her,” replied the Great Teacher; and forth with the youth set on his wanderings in search of a wife. He had no idea how to make love, so that the first courtship was done by the pretty and coquettish maidens of the Bird, Beaver, and Bear tribes. There are some touching and whimsical love stories which the rich imagination of the Indian has woven into the old legend.

It is said, for example, that at his first map he had built for himself a lodge of green boughs in the midst of the forest, and that there his reverie was interrupted by a voice from the wilderness-a voice that was irresistibly and profoundly sweet. In some mysterious way, the soul of the young man was touched as it had never been before, for this call of exquisite tenderness and allurement was the voice of the eternal woman! Pg. 35-36

Giving themselves up wholly to their grief, they are no longer concerned about any earthly possession, and often give away all that they have to the first comers, even to their beds and their home. Finally, the wailing for the dead is continued night and day to the point of utter voicelessness, a musical, weird, and heart-piercing sound, which has been compared to the “keening” of the Celtic mourner.

The old-time burial of the Plains Indian was upon a scaffold of poles, or a platform among the boughs of a tree-their only means of placing the body out of wild beasts, as they had no implements with which to dig a suitable grave. It was prepared by dressing in the finest clothes, together with some personal possessions and ornaments, wrapped in several robes, and finally in a secure covering of raw-hide. As a special mark of respect, the body of a young woman or warrior was sometimes laid out in state in a new teepee, with the usual household articles and even with a dish of food left beside it, not that they supposed the spirit could use the implements or eat the food, but merely as a last tribute. Then the whole people would break camp and depart to a distance, leaving the dead alone in honourable solitude.

There was no prescribed ceremony of burial, though the body was carried out with more or less solemnity by selected young men and sometimes noted warriors were the pall-bearers of a man of distinction. It was usual to choose a prominent hill with a commanding outlook for the last resting place of our dead. If a man were slain in battle, it was an old custom the place his body against a tree or rock in a sitting position, always facing the enemy, to indicate his undaunted defiance and bravery, even in death.


I recall a touching custom among us, which was designed to keep the memory of the departed near and warm in the bereaved household. .A lock of hair of the beloved was wrapped in pretty clothing, such as it was supposed that he or she would like to wear if living. This “spirit bundle,” as it was called, was suspended from a tripod, and occupied a certain place in the lodge which was the place of honour. At every meal time, a dish of food was placed under it, and some person of the same sex and age as the one who as gone must afterward be invited to partake of the food, At the end of a year from the time of death, the relatives made a public feast and gave away the clothing and gifts, while the lock of hair was interred with ceremonies. Pg. 40-41

Many Indians believed that one may be born more than once, and there were some who claimed to have full knowledge of a former incarnation. There were also those who held converse with a “twin spirit”, who had been born with another tribe or race.


There was a well-known Sioux prophet who lived in the middle of the last century, so that he is still remembered by the old men of his band. After he had reached middle age, he declared he had a spirit brother among the Ojibways, the ancestral enemies of the Sioux. He even named the band to which his brother belonged, and said that he also was a war-prophet among his people.

Upon one of their hunts along the border between the two tribes, the Sioux leader one evening called his warrior together, and solemnly declared to them that they were about to meet a like band of Ojibway hunters, led by his spirit twin. Since this was to be their first meeting since they were born as strangers, he earnestly begged the young men to resist the temptation to join battle with their tribal foes.

“You will know him at once,” the prophet said to them, “for he will not only look like me in face and form, but he will display the same totem, and even sing my war songs!”

They sent out scouts, who soon returned with news of the approaching party. Then the leading men started with their peace-pipe for the Ojibway camp, and when they were near at hand they fired three distinct volleys, a signal for their desire for a peaceful meeting.

The response came in like manner, and they entered the camp, with the peace-pipe in the hands of the prophet.

Lo, the stranger prophet advanced to meet them, and the people were greatly struck with the resemblance between the two men, who met and embraced one another with unusual fervor.

It was quickly agreed by both parties that they should camp together for several days, and one evening the Sioux made a “warriors feast” to which they invited many of the Ojibway. The prophet asked his twin brother to song one of his sacred songs, and behold! It was the very song he himself was wont to sing. This proved to the warriors beyond doubt or cavil the claims of the seer. Pg. 44-45


Glyphs and Glimpses of Razing the Dead with Byron (2) (Available on Amazon)

“No other being on Earth is as savage as the human who wants something he cannot have.”

~ Copyright © 2019 Candalee Beatty

#razingthedeadwithbyron #whitewolfvisions #lordbyron #books #book #bookseries #numbers


Glyphs and Glimpses of Razing the Dead with Byron (1) (Available on Amazon)

“The gods needed to strengthen themselves to deal with all the monsters created over time, humans included.”

~ Copyright © 2019 Candalee Beatty

#razingthedeadwithbyron #whitewolfvisions #lordbyron #books #book #bookseries #numbers


Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron (Chapter Excerpt 4 of 4) (Available on Amazon)


Buddha and the Oak Tree

What we in the west call Chinese Lunar New Year is called the Ganzhi calendar. This calendar commemorates Buddha’s enlightenment beside an oak tree and the 12 animals who accepted the invitation to his kingdom to celebrate. Each of these animals was honoured every 12 years with a new year dedicated to them; the order given was according to arrival.

Across a river the Ox carried the Rat who leapt to land when it was close enough, racing to reach Buddha first, and thus given first position in the calendar. (See below)

This calendar is lunar (our 365 calendar is solar) and renews every 60 years, giving each of the 12 animals a turn (one year) in each of the five elements. (12 x 5 = 60)

The five elements with which life is created and destroyed are: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water.

1984, Year of the Wood Rat, was the beginning of the 78th cycle of 60-year movements.

The order of animal below is according to arrival and element; coincidentally, we are entering the visionary 2020 Year of the Metal Rat where everything began and begins again, from the year, the animal, and element.

Using my interpretation of how to use the Chinese system of astrology I began combing through the years of the Dragon.

Narrowing in, I am a year, 1976, Year of the Fire Dragon, a twin born on the 11th day of the 6th month of a leap year making it the 163rd day.

Refocusing on myself…

I am 39 years of age as of 12:04 p.m., June 11, 2015. Counting back 39 years to 1976, and 39 years every previous revolution until I came to a halt:

1) 1937, 2) 1898, 3) 1859, 4) 1820, 5) 1781, 6) 1742, 7) 1703, 8) 1664, 9) 1625, 10) 1586, 11) 1547, 12) 1508, 13) 1469, 14) 1430, 15) 1391, 16) 1352, 17) 1313, 18) 1274….and when I keep subtracting 39 I will get to 65, 26, and -13.

Since I began this book I have been taking paths that led everywhere and nowhere…but the paths always lead me back to Byron, the numbers 1247 and sometimes 9, and the path of these two beings of the Madrid Codex. The Monkey and his Dragon…I will name her Hydrenchia right now.

There once was a woman, female, femme with the soul of a dragon, her love was of the soul of a monkey, the funniest, the most loving and beautiful monkey man you could ever see. He set off for reasons I cannot think of right now, all we know is that is when the great divide happened.

They lost each other. It would be years, centuries, and millennia before he would find her again. I have found the line of reincarnation and light of my creators, my loves, myself, from the stars.

They did not come from Earth but they came in peace, harmony, and love. The First Woman was 26 and the First Man was 39 when they landed. She was 65 and he was 79 when they first expired on Earth; that was their first revolution together on Earth…together, 65 and 79 add up to 144…these are the long years.

She was 13, he 26, together 39, when they met on their home planet that would be the far off place we may never in our lifetimes see. Though we hear the call and we dream, create, write or sing with our inner song and fire, that spark and the root from where we came is not here…it is just not here.

Earth has become the ever living entity we need her to be, tectonic plates and all her palates. From the immortal blood, immortal souls, and immortal love of these two beings we rose.

The first time they came to Earth was on the light of the early morning sun during the Year of the Metal Monkey. Stretching far across the Universe, pole to pole, hand in hand.

Currently (2016), we are entering the Year of the Fire Monkey.


Whitewolf Visions by Candalee Beatty

Book II: Razing the Dead with Byron

Now available on or

Here are a few more glimpses within Razing the Dead with Byron:





(Chapter Excerpt 3 of 4) Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron (Available on Amazon)


Presented here is the third of four chapters to be shared from Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron.

There are only 46 pages to this 8.5 x 11″ book, with some chapters only a page in length, such as the one you are about to read.

This book series has been a true razing experience for me. In the beginning, it was the numbers and Lord Byron that pushed me to begin this series in 2015; and in the end, it was the numbers that I chose to lead the way.

I will begin sharing chapters of Whitewolf Visions: Book III The Serpents Tongue soon.

Thank you to everyone who is here reading this now, and thank you Lords for this beautiful complicated life.


2016: Year of the Monkey

George Gordon Byron was born in 1788, as a Sheep at the cusp of the Year of the Earth Monkey, and died in 1824, Year of the Wood Monkey, Easter Sunday. If you subtract 12 years to the previous Monkey, as the Chinese system of astrology works, you will eventually pass the years 144 and 36, Byron died at 36.

Leaping into this leap year, leap day, and life with fervour and passion like no other, I looked at the year 144 and subtracted 60, the life cycle of Chinese astrology (there are 12 animals each with 5 turns in 60 years; 12 x 5 = 60). 144 subtract 60, to 84, 24, and -36 until we reach -2016 and so on.

Until now the number 144 meant nothing to me; a lot of the things in this book meant little to me, or so I ignorantly thought. I realize how very closed off to the world I was.

It is hard to see how closely related we are as humans, no matter our geographical locations or if we ever meet person to person. Circumstances and life make their own paths, ploughing through plans and dreams we’ve designed for ourselves.

When I finally read of the Baktun calendar, the 144,000 day period of the Maya, the numbers flashed before my eyes; I knew I had just seen those numbers. They were in the Good News Bible as part of The Revelation. Immediately I began calculating and numbering.

This will be explained later but right now it’s important to introduce because I am trying to nail down a publishing date, and lead to the explanation why I left this chapter the way it is. The calendars of the world don’t match up to those of the past. The stars and moon wobble and shine in the sky as we struggle with time and dates. I swing like a monkey through time, with the past dangling closely behind. What is meant to be is what will transpire, that is all I know about real time.


Whitewolf Visions by Candalee Beatty

Book II: Razing the Dead with Byron

144,000 Marches of Time – Chapter from Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron (Available on Amazon)

Ada Loelace: An Image from Google

Augusta Ada Byron. Countess of Lovelace, known as Ada Lovelace (Image from Google)

December 10, 1815 ~ November 27, 1852

An excerpt as promised in the last post.

144,000 Marches of Time


As soon as I saw the image of a bird, the symbol for the 144,000 day Maya Baktun solar calendar; an immediate connection was made to The Revelation and its 144,000 first fruits which I had just finished reading. I knew then and there I had to divide 144,000 into and out of the years.

I began by dividing my year (1976) into and out of 144,000, making two columns, until each reached 0. Next to be divided were Lord Byron’s years 1788 and 1824, then 1913 for my grandfather, and 2016 and 2017 to represent now. Next, I multiplied everything by 144,000.

I stopped charting eventually because I had no idea what to do with them. I was thrown off guard by what I saw in mine and Byron’s charts and I was disturbed by the 2016 in 1976 because we were heading into 2016 at this time of discovery and charting.

What did that mean in terms of these numbers and reincarnation? The numbers are plain to see: Lord Byron has both his birth and death dates in the 1788 multiplication charts and his daughter Ada Lovelace who died in the year 1852 also has her birth and death years in her multiplication charts.

On With It:

What were the ancients thinking when they were watching the sun, moon and stars rise and fall each day and night? What made them want to calculate the passages of time aside from the sheer beauty and wonder?

Perhaps they were inspired by heavenly events such as a falling comet causing tsunamis of excitement, death and rising waters. Imagine the feeling of seeing a comet with your naked eyes, or seeing the birth of a supernova, would you not want to build monuments and pray to the heavens above for the safe passage of yourself and those you love?

In Chaco Canyon, New Mexico there is a rock painting depicting the appearance of a supernova near the crescent moon in 1054 AD and a comet was seen in 1430 by the Chinese and Maya before crashing into Earth. I am focusing on these two because at first they were the only celestial wonders that fit into the charts, what you will see in the end, is most comets and supernovas fit into these charts.

Were tsunami waves reported in 1430, were deaths counted, were monuments resurrected to honour those deaths? Were pyramids built to honour the fallen stars and keep an eye on the ones above? Were the falling heavens given sacrifices out of fear of such deadly events?

Some things will stay unknown for the reasons of the scared and fear stricken voyageurs of yesteryear. It must have been unnerving for some to ‘discover’ land and then find it was already home to ‘savages’ who reverently honoured unseen entities with a passion unknown to them, with a purpose and with days coinciding with full moons, eclipses and changes of seasons.

Moreover, it must have been terrifying to learn these people believed in the reincarnation of souls. It is common to fear the unknown.

I’ve thought long and hard about the approach and way this series should be presented, as all literature should be approached, with passion and caution.

I could say it all began with the numbers 1, 2, 4, 7, and 9. The numbers have been appearing before me at crucial moments of this turbulent life as if to tell me everything is alright and is just as it was always meant to be. Things are a lot calmer now though the life inside me still screams to be let out.

Then again I could say it (this book series) all began with a huge push over the edge of the canyon of faith and love by poet George Gordon, Lord Byron. He, his words and his numbers are what began this wild goose chase from a small wooded graveyard in Chapleau, Ontario, Canada on the 144th day of 2015, May 24.

Since then my Whitewolf Visions journey morphed into a book series and I have been led by Lord Byron through a path of numbers, the numbers 12479 particularly.

I feel as if Byron was daring me to believe in something intangible, seemingly impossible, and taking me from a believer in no gods to every single one, all but one. I have always been a believer in spirit, soul and it was always to the Universe I sent my prayers to.

In reading and learning about Byron I tried to steer away from the numerous biographies and opinions of the world. I stayed as close to him as possible using his own words, from his poetry to what journals and letters I could get to.

In my life because of life altering events I chose not to believe in any god until that day in May. I always knew of and believed in the supernatural wonders of the universe; they have always been effervescently present in my life.

Are the ghosts who inhabit the planes we cannot see simply souls that cannot or will not reincarnate for some reason…perhaps.

The Indigenous of Easter Island believed the souls of the bad were tied to the people they had wronged and were destined to roam the afterlife in a desert. The Natives of some North American tribes believed all people, except those who died in violence such as murder or war, meaning all people regardless of the nature within, would travel along the Wolf Trail, the Milky Way, to heaven and beyond.

These next charts were created by dividing and multiplying the number 144,000 into and out of each chosen number or year.

In each year charted, wherever I noticed a “twinned” number, I highlighted. For example in some years 2s were twinned, twins of consecutive 2s and 1s were noted because of their infrequency. The other twinned numbers are 8 and 7. 6s are highlighted in green, again, because of their infrequency.

Every path or pattern is bolded in red to demonstrate a path from birth and death; important triggers are also bolded. The triggers /patterns such as the repeated highlighting of numbers/years such as1006, 1007, 1008, and 1009 will be explained to the fullest of my ability in Whitewolf Visions: Book IV Xolotl Presents the Book of Destiny and Fate, which fully demonstrates the path of the soul from the death of a star to the birth of the organism that is you and me.

The first charts to be presented are the division and multiplication charts of Lord Byron, my grandfather, and myself.

I stopped dividing at this point partially out of plain laziness as the division charts took about a half hour longer to write out than the multiplication charts; but, the decision to keep multiplying came when I saw Byron and my grandfather had both their birth and death dates within those charts.

  • 1788-1824       Lord Byron (Division and multiplication charts)
  • 1815 -1852      Ada Lovelace (Multiplication chart)
  • 1913 -1992      My grandfather (Division and multiplication)
  • 1430                South Pacific comet sighting (Multiplication)
  • 2016-2017      Division and Multiplication Chart
  • 1976                Me (Candalee Beatty) (Division and multiplication)










A Glimpse of Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron by Candalee Beatty (Available on Amazon)

Many people are unaware of the evolution of Whitewolf Visions. What began in 2009 as a place to showcase my photography, then turned into a place to showcase writings created throughout the span of my lifetime. The page became a place of refuge and a coping mechanism, which I am thankful for.

In 2009 my life took a very sharp turn, I changed drastically, anyone who I knew as a friend became a stranger, and it all happened so quickly. This is when suddenly; I began to notice the numbers 124, which became 1247, until finally morphing into 12479 in every variation and only at times of chaos. I took this as a sign from the Universe that whatever the circumstances were at the time, it was all meant to be and I accepted the changes at hand.

After so many appearances and coincidences; I began to research the numbers, and asked anyone who was metaphysically inclined if they knew what the numbers meant. There were no definitive answers, so the hypothesis that the numbers were a sign from the Universe stayed.

Then May 24, 2015 came about. I found the name George Gordon and the numbers in a small graveyard, prompting me to begin research as soon as I got home. The research became Whitewolf Visions, the series, because without the Facebook page and all that entailed, I would not have seen the name George Gordon, Lord Byron just hours before the trip began.

I will share the chapter Chapel of Water…or Simply Chapleau, followed by the chapter 144,000 Marches of Time of Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron.

The Chapel of Water…or Simply Chapleau

Coordinates: 47°50′0”N, 83°24′0”W

I feel the air moving around me and my hair is tingling as I write this; so it began this time on May 24, 2015 in Chapleau, Ontario, Canada.

When we arrived I had a strange feeling of déjà vu, though aside from an oddly numerous amount of street names being the same as in Sudbury I saw no sign of a past life. Plenty life had passed through this town, it was evident in the empty store fronts and six people bustling down the narrow stretch of downtown.

We waited for my friend’s mother, prowling through the small town like lions in wait; she showed me where she once lived, loved, and raised four children. When the mother arrived home from work my friend suggested I walk toward a path to see an old graveyard she used to find peace and solace in; I gratefully took the directions.

On the way I passed a mother and daughter standing at the water’s edge, I smiled hello, baring my teeth, and kept walking. I was admiring the day, warm sun, leafy greens, happy. I was finally beginning to step into the light out of the darkness of my heart and spirit.

I was minding my own business trying to free myself of…of…recent events. As I was freeing myself a raven flew down and around me, landing on a branch nearby. I smiled hello and took my camera out as he watched.

It looked as if he was trying to say something but no sound was coming from his bird-whistling vocal chords, he was muted and I thought “I know the feeling well”. A few photographic moments later I thanked him and kept going; he followed, perching himself ahead and continued to watch as I lost myself in the scenery.

To my left was a ‘mountain’ and directly ahead an opening in the trees which turned out to be an old road. By the water’s edge, trees hugged the road, tugged at the sides, and shadows were cast from the looming branches.

A few minutes down the road an eerie feeling washed over me, prompting me to look around; the road ahead was as dark as the forest beside me and suddenly I knew I was not alone. Thinking I should have a stick for protection I scanned the ground until I saw a birch branch. I turned to pick it up but stopped abruptly, stepping aside quickly, barely missing a pile of bear crap.

I picked the stick up, smiling, and checked the pile for freshness; the end of the stick sunk in with ease, thus making my smile disappear. I had a sudden feeling of urgency and went to keep going. To my left I saw a terrace with an iron fence surrounding gravestones; I had found it.

The fates, destiny, time, and universe would have it no other way. I felt instant jubilation. Everything about the small graveyard was well-tended and nurtured in nature, softly swaddled by the tall pine and birch trees, the shores bathed in river water hugging to the right. Love at first sight.

As I walked through the rusty gate I felt the energy change; it grew softer, and was flowing around me, seeming to brush my hair and my cheek.

I knew this was why I was in Chapleau; this was why BJ and I were friends.

There was something so familiar about the bars of iron and the way the trees reached up to the sky, so wispy, longing, stronger with every blow of the wind. Trees speak to me; there is something about them that is so ‘home’ to me, the earthen smell of them in all their forms of life and decay.

Concentrating on the people who were laid to rest I looked down and saw the name George Gordon* (last name omitted).

I was immediately moved because just hours before leaving for the trip I was reading a line by another George Gordon known as Lord Byron. The words touched me enough to go in search of his poetry I had recently purchased. On page three, When We Two Parted: “If I should meet thee after long years, how should I greet thee? – With silence and tears.”

When I saw the name George Gordon* on the headstone in Chapleau, I smiled at the coincidence. To me it was a sign telling me indeed, this was the way life was supposed to be, no matter what.

This particular George Gordon* was laid next to his wife Lois, 1924-199something; the headstone was covered with leaves. I brushed off all but one number. Had I seen my fifth number I would have been thunderstruck. Imagine that. It was too much for me to imagine so I did not try, deeming it unfathomable.

I looked at the gravestone to the right, but the name and dates were too weathered for me to read from where I was standing. Across from George Gordon* and Lois were Mary Marjorie 1910-1995 and J. Murray 1917-1994.

Time was ticking; I said my goodbyes and began to leave, and as I was passing by Lois I turned my head for one last look the wind blew revealing the number under the one leaf I didn’t turn; it was a seven, making my sequence of 12479 complete. I can still feel the wind, and my life changing in that moment.

I was stunned and could barely see through my tears as I walked back through the gates and lifted the leaf. I had no clue what the numbers meant, if anything aside from the obvious. All I knew is they were carved in stone surrounded by an iron fence in the middle of the Northern Ontario wilderness and I was in front of them.

As I walked slowly back into the fenced yard the air changed from elation to intense and eternal sadness, it was electric. At that moment all doubts were expelled…again. I knew I had been there before.

There were no words and no one to share them with, at least not in the flesh. I felt the web of time and breaths of air touching me as if trying to tell me many years of stories in one stunted breath. I looked around with blurry eyes and a thick throat; the wind picked up as though trying to soothe.

Focusing on the older stone I walked over and held my hands over it; the air between my hands and the stone was vibrating with energy.

Once again overtaken by tears I took some photos, laid on the ground, and then began to leave. While I was rushing down the road I felt I was being ushered, I told the spirit to take care of them and that I would be back someday. Feeling the spirit’s rebuke, I knew they would be as fine as they had been for many years now.

When I arrived at the house I said nothing until we were in the driveway about to drive home. My friend had long heard about the numbers so my exuberance was not entirely odd to her.

All the way home I could not stop thinking about the graveyard, those numbers, and the feeling my life had just changed. When I reached my house I began by reading my Byron poem book; initially nothing was triggered other than a few words and his birth and death year, 1788-1824, dead at 36.

Once I was finished with the biographic websites I went to Wikipedia where I continued to find the numbers in the birth and death dates of many, many people, connection after connection, and trigger after trigger, lined up in perfect jumbled symmetry.

The connections neatly lain out in plain sight. The coincidences were strange, such as our mothers sharing first names, our daughters’ names differing by one letter, and the name of his publisher and friend John Murray was eerily familiar considering in the grave across from George Gordon* in Chapleau lay J. Murray.

Through the route of names and numbers I began to see patterns within the pattern but the pattern that stuck out the most was of course the numbers. Chillingly the numbers began connecting to popes, saints (on consecration and inaugural dates) and famous writers, (many, many writers), and scientists.

I have been seeing the numbers for seven years now and according to my research it is a do or die type of situation for me.

My life did a complete 360° turn in 2009 and in 2010 began to speed up; my words and mind with it. Now my world seems to be at a spinning halt, readying for another turn I am sure but I need to tie the words down, anchor them so that they might become as real to you as they are to me.

In 2009, I began seeing the numbers 1, 2, 4, 7 and sometimes 9 all the time, I mean ALL the time. They would seem to materialize at pivotal and memorable moments in my life as 124, 1247 or 12479 in all variations.

It was startling at first, and then the coincidences became too many, I had to pay attention. I have always been a believer in the paranormal so it was not hard to imagine otherworldly things. The spirits have never been shy at showing themselves to me, at touching me, saving me, sitting at the foot of my bed while I sleep, talking to me while I sleep, and holding me.

My mother kept calling and calling in 2010 but I would not answer her call for the life of anyone. I had cut the cord, literally, virtually, figuratively, and finally. I do not have the time or inclination to say more than that it was during this time the numbers began to noticeably push forward.

Many of her calls and messages were ill-received at 12:47 p.m.; it was disconcerting and annoying. I see now even in her name and birth date she has been with me for many lives now.

These numbers truly are everywhere, in everything, all carefully laid out, planned, plotted and desperately trying to reach someone, something.

I call this chapter Chapel of Water because of the links and connections I see in the word itself: Chap l eau. Chap, el, and “eau” French for water. This is an important correlation because not only is water one of the single most important things to gurgle up from Earth’s crust but because that word alone, water, links every creation story in history. It would only be natural to have a “chapel” dedicated to it in reverence, as a safe keeping.

(Today) May 24, 2018: Minutes to the day left.

Three years later to drive up to the path and run to your grave with my daughter running safely beside me.

The road seemed so long three years ago, the path was wider and the ground sparkled I swear.

Today, the path was shorter, the ground a little harder and perhaps even raised. I will compare my memory with the photos of three years ago. There were no photos today, no tears of deeply-rooted remorse and love. The love was there, you were there in all your suspended glory, the energy raw, and here with me now.

I needed to be there today, to touch ground, to breathe in and out, hands and feet on the stones. The other stones were missing-or were they? I didn’t stay long enough to dig and clear my way to the truth of the stone’s location.

If they were gone, where did they go? And if they were there…buried underground after only three years of growth? George Gordon* and Lois are well-tended and uncovered. The rusty gate was closed this time, the ground craggier than ever. Many trees fell all around; the deep forest was drying out.

If my daughter wasn’t with me I would have gone up that path: it was now covered by the fallen trees. It was strange to see how different and barren the lush forest I remember had become. The emerald green moss was dusty with forest debris and at this moment I cannot recall which direction the trees had fallen. We didn’t stay more than five minutes.

The forest moved a step closer to the water’s edge. It’s the only plausible reason for the changes in the ground and throughout the trees.

I will return at least one more time to find those missing stone markers, to walk further down that path despite any obstruction or doubt.

Today was about an unknown and all-consuming force from within to reach and touch that stone. I know I need to return soon, to see about those stones, my imagination runs wild enough without their disappearance.

The fact they are either buried or gone is a little or a lot disconcerting and concerning considering George Gordon* and his wife a few meters away are clearly visited.

Chapleau, Ontario, May 24, 2019:

I was very relieved and happy to feel the stonework of the plaque beneath the forest debris. The masonry was under a few inches of dirt but J. Murray and wife were still safely interred across from George Gordon* and Lois. Mystery solved.

My youngest daughter and I had taken another journey to Chapleau but this time we took the same path BJ and I had four years prior up Highway 101, and we rented a car and hotel room. Our only real plan was to escape the clouds covering the weather map, stay safe, and close to home, and to console ourselves.

We were supposed to have journeyed to Albuquerque, New Mexico for the Gathering of Nations Powwow with her older sister as a 16th birthday present but my health was causing worries. In March, due to extremely low iron, I fainted, giving myself a concussion, and soon thereafter my employment at the funeral home became too much for my head (I began working there two weeks after completing Whitewolf Visions: Book III The Serpents Tongue in July 2017). I was recovering nicely but me driving to New Mexico with 2 unlicensed passengers whom I love more than life seemed a little dicey.

Since that trip I have been working steadily toward the presentation of these three books and this path of numbers and light.

Whitewolf Visions: Book II, III and IV now available on Amazon!!

Whitewolf Visions: Book II Razing the Dead with Byron by Candalee Beatty
First published in 2016, this book has morphed from the fledgling first findings and frantically written words to what is now focussed and tapered to reveal secrets that only the truth of numbers has been able to tell. Razing the Dead with Byron lights the way of the soul and light to the numeric paths leading us to the stars and our chaotic beginnings as particles. If numeric synchronicity and reincarnation interest you, this book will take you from a small Northern Ontario town to the light of the soul through numbers. After finding the numbers 12479 and the name George Gordon in a small graveyard, author Candalee Beatty curiously began to research into the life and numbers of Lord Byron (George Gordon). Since that otherworldly discovery she has written four books about the numbers and the path of reincarnation and light that found her. This is the beginning of that journey.
Whitewolf Visions: Book III The Serpents Tongue by Candalee Beatty
Whitewolf Visions: Book III The Serpents Tongue is a book of numbers, guiding and illuminating the celestial lights of the people of planet Earth followed from the cosmos to the organic beings you see in the mirror. The serpents Tongue was inspired by the numbers of the Nine Lords of the Night and an Alphanumeric chart called Charting the Nine Lords of the Night (C9LN). C9LN mysteriously holds the key to the universe, the key to many codices, and guides you to Whitewolf Visions: Book IV Xolotl Presents the Book of Destiny and Fate.
Whitewolf Visions: Book IV Xolotl Presents the Book of Destiny and Fate by Candalee Beatty
Whitewolf Visions: Book V Xolotl Presents the Book of Destiny and Fate the newest, and nearest to the stars, book of numbers. Take another step on the journey into the dark underworld of creation, death, and light. From the stars we hail and the path is written in the oldest language and memory in the interstellar complex, numbers. Using the 144,000 solar-day Maya Baktun calendar, a path from the stars – to life, to death, and back again – is paved in this book.

Madrid Codex…What began the reinterpretations (for me).

The Madrid Codex, also known as the Tro-Cortesianus Codex or the Troano Codex is one of three surviving Mayan Books. The artist of this painting are the Mayans. I was made many, many years (900-1500 A.D) It was discovered by the Spaniards in the 1800. The Madrid Codex is held by the Museo de America in Madrid and is […]

via Madrid Codex —