Believing the machine, we were shot through and made to forget. We turned away from remembering natures ways. Ways not so perplexing as present day gene mechanics. Ways of engaging a persons vitality and spirit to heal without damaging the body. Ways that move and guide us from within. Ways of knowing from our guts, our intuition. Even satori! Break-through moments of awakening that brim with clear sight.
Ask anyone who has veered from health and well being, where did you lose your way? Whether they can admit it or not, instinctually, everyone knows. A young lad on the spectrum describes a watery metal, he senses it in his body, and knows it shouldnt be there. Like what I ask him and he says like the silvery metal in an old thermometer. No one told him that. He realized it without any data on chemistry, blood brain barriers, or the effects of the mercury in his childhood vaccines. It is part of him and he knows it.
It was a long time I gave to listening and hearing and listening and gleaning and listening and wondering before he described the poison that contributed to his condition. Way, way longer than raising a sleeve in the grocery store for a convenient shot in the arm at the pop up vaccine clinic.
Whatever level of our minds and bodies are stricken, illness lets us know we have veered. Treatments would do better to provide awareness of when and how and why we went off course. If thats not possible then perhaps disease may be understood in the power it has to wake us up. We might be carved open to reveal a greater design for our life, a higher purpose than what has become entrenched and no longer viable in a living system. The power of an illness has the potential to reveal a calling or a mission. It can embolden us to stop following someone elses design for us. We need treatment protocols that spark courage and a willingness to evolve out of what has become redundant in our lives, where we have drifted from our true north and have sustained a wake up call. We want protocols that unabashedly engage the human spirit and our subtler energies, invisible to any diagnostic imaging.
On worldly horizons, it appears the veil is thinning between a collective future surrendered to psychopath-power-holders— Their Majesties as they like to be called— and the collective that moves in ways a psychopath cannot conceive of. Movements of the heart, and a beingness that knows ways and means of a living wealth, beating and pulsing with love. There are alternatives to economic globalization. Instead, as a collective, we have been unwittingly lured into a conversation with all that isnt alternative.
We have joined a conversation with the devil. With the blood royal psychopaths determined to reign supreme, ruling from high-handed entitlement, rich with disdain for what stands in their royal ways.
Us.
We are in a collective conversation with beliefs that have ruled our world longer than we have been allowed to imagine. I once wondered why Huxley and Orwell had not written a better future for us. Turns out, they were not imagining. They were reporting. From the devils own workshops, they were reporting on Their Majesties plans for useless eaters. They created nothing. They reported from where they were and what they heard.
Like any psychopath, Their Majesties cannot stay quiet long or modest at all. They must expose themselves, proud and self-satisfied. They want the world to know of their mighty schemes, made for and paid for by the collective. Otherwise, we could move on, undistracted in our day to day ways, applying ourselves to what calls us from the inside. Theres plenty for everyone and we all know it. Humans have limitless tricks and manners for evolving, inventing, and replenishing, and we are fully capable of caring for each other as we go. Thats how we live and breathe everyday if we havent been beaten down into poverty and addiction and corruption by Their Majesties wicked programs. Our potentials and possibilities are inconceivable to Their Majesties. They cannot grasp the easiest of simple energies, the encouragement that travels invisible between two human beings, if only wishing each other a good day.
Now, by destiny or karma, we are cornered into a conversation with these entities and they havent got a clue what makes us tick. They know what makes us do their bidding. They dont understand natural human love.
Hungry for recognition, Their Majesties have come out from age old blood lines, insinuating themselves squarely before their victims. To boast and brag of what has been done and what is yet to come. Not very wily of the evil ones, revealing their murderous plans. As a result, we are forced into a conversation that is akin to meeting an aggressive and alien race without language or understanding. We are forced into a conversation with the devil.
There is no commonality here. If we express grief over what has occurred, the demon only knows its glee. If we dare expose our shame, the monster uses it as a stepping block to higher ambitions. If we ruefully admit any shadows of our own making, the dark lord reaches to claim us, as if we were of its nature and not of the earth that sustains us.
For some, we have already met with the devil in little ways, all along our only ways. Drifting into a distrust here, a miserliness there. Little things that cause the conscience to toss and turn and lament so many misdemeanours. Yet in these times, we are forced into the square circle with an opponent that lives by different rules altogether and knows no moral conditions. Conscience has no part in their vanities and false catastrophes.
We must enter the arena. We cannot live in a world that is not our own, in a world that is interpreted for us by others. Part of the terror is to take back our own listening, to use our own voice, to see our own light. Wisdom from Hildegard de Bingen. We have overheard the inner conversations often enough to know, the divide between our inner angels and inner demons is only a factor of where our light shines, or doesnt.
We dont really want to have this conversation. We cant relate to this malevolent world we find ourselves in. But the devil is drawing us out. It wants to be seen. It wants to be applauded. It wants to be admired and bowed down before.
Imagine the motorheads machinations for his courtroom appearance. He will enter the courtroom (virtually), and the waters of law and justice will part as he shines on all those present and adoring, while bestowing a benevolent balm over the scene. Perhaps from the 5th dimension somewhere. He has a very expensive lawyer. It will take years for his minions to make up that expense. His high-priced lawyer is known for his high-priced suits and cheap intimidations of female complainants. Most agree, the suit is in it for the money, the manipulations and the show, just like his client! Winning or losing makes no difference, so more often than not the suit loses his suits. Just keeping you all up to date on the news youll probably never hear if you are still in the cult. Im guessing youve already heard about Project Apocalypse.
Being in a cult, or a society that functions like a cult, we expect to be planted, to be chipped and controlled by the object of our salvation. Gurus and governments. Once youve had countless injections of Their Majesties bioweapon, what harm in a tiny neuralink?
I remember an evening the motorhead entered a social event wearing something kinda Trekkie and skin-tight. Women gasped involuntarily. I was the first he met so I struck up conversation about some scriptures I had been musing over. He named the chapter and verse, incorrectly. I realized he didnt know what I was talking about. Nonetheless we were in an eye locking connection that made it difficult to think. His face close. His eyes unblinking. His look straight into me. Then I experienced a movement from his awareness into my body. I felt something small and black planted next to my heart. It became a thing. Dont ask me what. Something of him growing inside me. Its irksome to recall it. This thing grew and grew and grew.
How is being eye locked on my devices much different and what is being planted in me by Their Majesties and their labourers as I stare, unable to think? We have been planted for years and years, generation after generation. It is going to take some time to dig this garbage out. Im not here to pick at a wound. I am diluting the garbage that was planted in me. Now that I am beyond the psyops of Specialness that Johns cult is embedded in, I am discharging. Always a good sign in the direction of cure.
Like devotees in a cult, the human collective has paid for the actions of the ancient and insane and deviant entities of privilege and self-adulation. Buying their lies, fighting their wars, and dancing the night of our rights and freedoms away. Now in our hearts and minds and very lives we are bound to this unwanted conversation with These Beasties and must woo the parts of ourselves that are afraid. We would be wise to simplify. To harmonize between ourselves into the easy going energies that encourage and strengthen each other. To speak for what is fundamental, for what is part matter and part spirit, for what is integrated and desegregated humanness.
Their Majesties, the devil worshippers! are a destructive disease, a deep pathology, and an elemental force of the worlds psyche. In their careless conceits, they are waking us up. We have been carved apart and against and anon by their violent pathology long enough. They have medicated us with the optical illusion of separation. We have been plagued for ages by these opportunistic pathogens, power-holders who are totally unaware of what makes this planet so beautifully complex and so simply good.
Us.
Please try to remember that what they believe,
as well as what they do
and cause you to endure
does not testify to your inferiority,
but to their inhumanity.
James Baldwin
Sigmund Freud noted the problems with hypnosis as therapy:
"[W]orse than its capricious nature was the lack of permanence in the results; after a time, if one heard from the patient again, the old malady had reappeared or had been replaced by another. Then one could begin to hypnotize again. In the background there was the warning of experienced men against robbing the patient of his independence by frequent repetitions of hypnosis and against accustoming him to this treatment as though it were a narcotic."
-- Sigmund Freud, Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis (London: Penguin, 1991), page 502.
Beautifully written, Dear, brilliant friend. I thank you for saying so well what needs be said, and my immediate reaction was an emphatic "Revolt"!!
But, haven't we been here before, in the silent spring, replacing the planted weeds of the powerful with seeds of virtue, watering them with our hopes, tears, and the spilled blood of our comrades; nurturing the sprouts that rise up to push through the composting soil of the weeds pulled out in clearing the way for truer truths? The perennial cycle of life includes predator and prey, blossoming, decay, night and day. The powerful rise, the simpler (no matter how cherished) fall, to become compost for a better future we hope, and some of us trust, that the wheel of time is rolling somewhere worthy of our highest ideals, concepts, and deeds of heroism. But is it?