The Gift at the End of the Road

This recent article is yet another sign we’re in a massive societal failure. Not that we needed another sign.

Maybe this ongoing slide is related to my starting so many pieces lately without finishing them. A what’s the point feeling has crept in. Maybe it will pass.

Still there is a sense that all our words and thoughts are being uttered into an environment that will simple swallow them up before they can settle in and find their place in the larger discourse. Does anything take hold and gain traction anymore? Can anything in such times?

I don’t know if that is a shared sense or not. Would love to know what you think in comments.

Sage brings up 9/11 again in a recent post and I remember how much time and energy I put into that false flag. Research, books and videos. How I thought it would eventually breakthrough to the public and there would be accountability.

Twenty something years on and an even bolder PSYOP behind us and it’s still considered a conspiracy theory by many. But, who knows, now that we have an officially sanctioned conspiracy nutter running for president, maybe things will change? Maybe he’ll make conspiracies cool.

I listened to and liked Kennedy’s speech. Don’t know if it’s all too little too late, but it’s positive and he’s brave and impressive. I’m happy for that.

Given the multiple, vile, agendas to dehumanize humans - it would be too much to expect one person to confront all that. Still, a formidable challenge to status quo. Reasonable expectations will be needed.

While I’m long past the shock and awe phase from these attacks, the ops that target our youth are particularly tough to get over.

Without their even knowing it, they make parents complicit in their crimes. I get it. It’s easier to think that schools are still good for kids. It’s easier to move with the masses (as ‘schools’ of fish do). But many schools are - and have been for sometime - dangerous places.

When I watched Ronald Bernard - years ago now - emotionally break down while recounting his witnessing of a satanic ceremony that included the abuse and sacrifice of children - I thought then - at least this horrifying information is coming out. Adults will come to the rescue of children.

Any minute now…

His warnings about this ‘elite’ underworld of child abuse continues to be dismissed for the most part and of course captured media won’t touch it.

Even with what did go main-street with Epstein and Maxwell, we’ve seen no members of Congress press for transparency, let alone accountability. (Whitney Webb’s book One Nation Under Bribery explains this silence.)

We know some of those “guests” on the Island where systemic abuse of children - treated as commodities - happened year after year at the hands of powerful people and “leaders” but still, nothing. Years and years in the public awareness and… nothing.

I shouldn’t say nothing. The increasing exposure of the rampant, organized abuse of our youth did put a fire under the U.N. who fortunately, is now publishing reports on why pedophilia should not be a crime. Maybe soon they’ll report on the importance of these satanic rituals and how the children sacrificed are actually being honored and not abused.

Not. That. Big. A. Stretch.

The lack of action to hold accountable and protect children makes us all complicit.

Washington To Castrate Minors Without Parental Consent As UN Pushes Legalized Pedophilia

At the same time that our civilization hits new lows - on its way out - I notice an increasing inner call. Like a whispered, “Hey, over here.” It’s a yearning or craving that only quiet and nature can meet.

I think this pull to silence and nature will call to more and more of us.

Where does one go when the well-trotted road we’ve been traveling comes to an end?

What’s become really clear lately is how so many of us, are not equipped to deal with the difficulties this time. (Intended as humorous understatement.)

We are brilliant at pretending though. Really good at ignoring stuff, looking past warning signs and finding distractions. Serious kudos in that respect. (I’ve done plenty, so I’m not judging.)

We don’t like ugly, we like pretty. We don’t like messy and nuanced, we like tidy and clear. We don’t like confrontation, we like nice.

How many yard signs - seemingly popping up overnight during the lockdown - instructed us to “Be Kind”? I like kindness too but in the midst of an irrational lockdown for a pretend pandemic, those signs were about self-censorship. Reminders to play nice.

"Don’t say disruptive things that might cause your neighbor to doubt the narrative or not comply “- signs would have been too on the nose. So we got Be Kind signs instead. Effective.

When I didn’t wear a mask even my friend who understood they didn’t work told me not wearing them was upsetting to others. So it was kinder to wear one. It was our ongoing debate: “How is supporting someone in their illusion kind?” I asked many times. She never had a good answer to that.

She told herself - and believed - wearing it was about kindness but that was cover for her fear. (Sorry M) Fear not of a virus but of being seen as anything other than a nice and caring person. (Which she is of course.) So wearing a mask - for those who knew better - made them complicit in perpetuating the illusion, in sustaining the crime. And this is what ‘they’ do.

It’s almost funny. Trying to play nice in order to avoid upsetting others when the very world you exist in is under attack and falling apart around you. (“Excuse me, I don’t mean to alarm (passing a plate of olives n cheese) but there appears to be growing chasm just behind you that threatens to suck you to your death.”)

That nice thing is pretty tenacious I guess.

Meanwhile life goes on. Tulips are appearing in my yard (yippee!). Their colors provoke involuntary smiles. Impossibly beautiful, fragile things, tulips.

Here’s some:

The enemy is not merely at the gate, they’ve rammed through it, paid off the guards, taken over the village and entered our very houses. (Reclining on sofa, feet up, yelling orders for popcorn.) They’ve captured minds, recruited many of their hostages as soldiers in their encroaching march, and even announced via official sources like the U.N., that they are indeed, after our kids.

Any minute now we should expect a massive uprising right?

It won’t come. It wouldn’t be “nice” and besides I’m sure Elon has said something interesting that we should all spend time deciphering.

What a fucking spell.

Back to this yearning. It takes me into the woods. I ignore the crisscrosses in the sky of the chemtrails my friends say don’t exist and make my way to a tree that is waiting for me.

Leaning up against this large Maple feels like a kind of coming home in its immediate sense of relief. I carry a palpable sadness which is quickly subsumed in its presence.

There is nothing to explain in our wordless exchange, but there is an instant knowing that fills my heart with gratitude.

How does it wordlessly transfer a remembrance of permanence and connection in a landscape revealing nothing but impermanence and disconnection? I don’t know. But, it does.

The sounds and sights of nature soothe. I’m lulled into an invisible entrance; an ancient place outside of language. Somehow I’m recharged. Somehow the madness of these times is held, in a silence that announces a deep okay-ness.

Some people call this God. Or Source, or any other number of things. Doesn’t matter. It’s nameless and eternal.

Is this where the answer to the current insanity of the world lies?

For me, yes.

I wonder sometimes if soon we will see large numbers of people just stop talking? Images of the Tower of Babel often come to mind. Who needs different languages to confuse when the shared language has been so utterly weaponized?

When the hijack is so complete that words are positioned now to detonate invisibly planted landmines that can suddenly blow things up. Trigger words, with disproportionate responses, unintended hidden meanings that belie and supposedly reveal nefarious intent behind innocent comments: There is no winning with words anymore.

A great speech, the right words spoken by the right person, at the right time… well, they are like magic. They can ignite and inspire - they can change the world. Or, they used to.

(Below stack describes such a moment in history. (Read Part I too) I recommend Mary’s stack.)

The Battle of Athens, Part II

Could a powerful speech by MLK have the impact today that it had then? Can a great speech by RFK Jr. snap folks out of their trance? I don’t know.

But I think perhaps when everything has so inverted and words mean the exact opposite of their intended meaning, we find ourselves pushed into another place.

And that’s good.

A place that existed before language, and surely beyond language. A timeless place. Maybe not visited in awhile, but surely a place we all know.

The Maple tree exists in this place. And the tulips and the birds. In fact all of nature does, including us. We’ve just wondered away from it. There was a time on this planet when we all lived this way. When we were in sync and moved with the rhythms of the natural world we were a part of.

The deeper current found here is more real than any word we could find to name it. It cannot be polluted or distorted. It remains pure. It is language that’s abstract and can be manipulated; infused with spells, inverted in meaning,. Language that is mediated and so, vulnerable to infiltration.

This place is direct. No mediation required, nothing to get in the way.

Miraculously it is available to all of us. All the time.

In this time of The Great Unraveling, we will, out of necessity, find our way back to it.

And this is the great gift of this time.

Thanks for reading.

Buy me a coffee. 😊 https://ko-fi.com/kathleen87247