“We must never forget about despair.” —Anna Akhmatova It’s been three long years of this, this life of nauseating terror in the waiting room we call Covid. As people drop to the ground dead all around us, all ages, including the very young, “doing what they loved most,” we’re told, in the moment of sudden death, we’re been forced into complicity with it all. Complicity because we must carry on, amidst open genocide, we still go buy groceries, or maybe even occasionally a new piece of clothing. Clothing that suggests a festive moment, an attempt to trick the mind back to trivia, back to life before. Every garment is a mockery. Clothes on racks in stores have no energetic field around them. Everything looks the same but isn’t. How did they do it?
Thank you Celia. Grief feels as though it would flatten me …. We run and work as hard as we can. Look at this, we say and produce studies. Oh, and these “excess deaths” —see them? (And where in the world did the statistician come up with the word “excess” for the flood of deaths? Such a banal phrase). And babies stillborn. Or dying in their cribs. Men and women collapsing where they stand— all caught on camera! My God!
The cancers have begun. Turbo-cancers they are being called. One day you are told you have cancer and practically the next you are dying with Stage Four metastasized tumors in your brain… and are on “Comfort Care.”
All this death. From a disease… that is one thing; a tragedy. From a toxic forced assault with a needle and an agent created in Frankenstein labs— that is a whole new level of horror.
“My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her; out of a sullen hollow in a livid hillside her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was – liberty.” - Charlotte Bronte
I feel same. I know there is no returning to normal, but I do want to know how to enjoy a new normal - if it's at all possible anymore. Seems others are able to, but I cannot while things are the way they are. Moments of happiness from time to time until I'm reminded where we are or until I remind myself.
There was a vote to end all mandatory vaxination in the Australian Senate recently.
You still must have it for 90% of jobs.
Only 5 out of about 50 Senators voted to end them.
Apparently people would rather die rather than admit they were wrong.
I burst out crying uncontrollably for 2 years but it stopped abruptly a few months ago.
Now so much has a dreamlike quality. I spend a lot of time outside, gardening in a little tamed patch of the vast bushland. Only go to town once a fortnight for supplies. Wander naked sometimes in the garden when it's hot (it's summer here). I sing to the creatures around me - parrots, lizards, my chooks, the lambs and wombats and kangaroos.
I don't miss much about my old life - especially all the jabbed people and pretending interest in their worlds.
Pluto moves from Capricorn after 15 years into Aquarius on March 23rd. First time in that sign since the 1770s. We are all entering the chrysalis - wonder what we will be on the other side of the metamorphosis?
I recall a line from a Moody Blues song from their album Threshold of a Dream:
"Somebody exploded an H Bomb today but... it wasn't anybody I knew."
Beautiful, and I and many others share in your pain over these events, but your sharing dark as it may seem is beneficial to everyone's healing. Thank you again for all you do and share with us. God bless you and everyone suffering.
This week I met two colleagues for dinner in a restaurant. Live, in person, away from screens and devices, for the first time in ages. We were conversing and realized just how much grief and loss and trauma we have all been experiencing. Not necessarily from the same perspectives, but no matter, because what did matter was having people who cared to share the grief and despair with. At a certain point I burst into tears and all I could say was “I’m just so sad. So, so sad. I just want people to be kind to me, to each other.” The floodgates were opened.
The biggest traumas were from people we have known and loved treating us unkindly. Assuming the worst about us.
We have to stop hurting each other, but in the meantime, I will love relentlessly. And grieve. And feel the despair. And read The Truth Barrier. And love relentlessly.
What would I do without your voice, Celia? Last fall, almost retirement age, with no retirement to speak of, in fact,I moved back to my hometown, temporarily. To my small town on the O.hio River in Kentucky. My childhood home burned down a year or two before I moved. Left to tell me my story sits an empty lot, for sale sign marked sold. If only I could visit that old, dear house. It swaddled me. Even in the face of the immense disenfranchisement inside, it kept me alive, nurtured my dreams helped me find refuge in its shadows. Back here, 45 years later, somewhere I had never imagined I would return. My house of 18 years remains everywhere, and nowhere, A ghost that holds my childhood spirit. I pass by, no words, bereft, yet calling for its arms, and its trees I climbed. Gone, uprooted through the years: the persimmon, pear, lilac, apple, walnut, catalpa, milkweed, mulberry, sycamore, elm, oak and maple, bent down in deference to funnel clouds, rain and wind. No one there in a child's absence to hang upside down in them, swing from a tire, pound nails into little plank steps up to the treehouse platform, to deeply root them with soul energy, any longer. A cruel echo of this one's shelter from a time growing up on the O.hio. That first syllable now a sacred lament.
Yes, you’re so right, Celia. They do it with frequencies. If we don’t find our way to stopping it we’ll be cooked. We’re the frogs in the water on its way to a boil.
This is worse than communism and worse than prison.
Stalin never strangled ordinary people. He punished his political enemies, who were disobeying a clear law and knew what they were doing.
Prisons are not allowed to deprive prisoners of food or medicine as punishment. Prison administrations take that restriction seriously. Been there, done that.
Public "health" demons DO strangle innocent people, and deprive innocent people of food and medicine for the "crime" of resisting strangulation.
Sasha Latypova says the creators design is perfect. If that is so, this grief we share is meant for us. The world must need our tears. If part of each day is for this, so be it. This morning in March’s new morning light of Spring, I rolled up in blankets and sat looking at first rays because I know it heals one to do this. Grief in the end is all about love.
Oh how I relate to this Celia. I'm attempting to build relationships in my neighborhood, as I think we will - very soon - need each other. They are very much 'in' the prevailing program. Maybe a couple have some wobbles lately. I get together with them, and that awful feeling of being complicit comes up when talk turns to places to eat or clothes. It can be fully disorienting.
(I've already burned bridges in my town when this rolled out, so with this is a new group, I have a new strategy. We'll see.)
That was heartbreakingly beautiful. So human. Bless you.
If we are grateful for all the good things we have been given ,and return the smiles of the children showing them we mean that we mean it when we say God will take care of us then we can remember to see enjoy the little blessings which declares that the world is not lost just hidden temporarily in the fog.
I take some comfort knowing i'm not alone. Need to remind myself though. Gerry & the Pacemakers. 3 min song. "You'll Never Walk Alone." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OV5_LQArLa0
Thank you Celia. Grief feels as though it would flatten me …. We run and work as hard as we can. Look at this, we say and produce studies. Oh, and these “excess deaths” —see them? (And where in the world did the statistician come up with the word “excess” for the flood of deaths? Such a banal phrase). And babies stillborn. Or dying in their cribs. Men and women collapsing where they stand— all caught on camera! My God!
The cancers have begun. Turbo-cancers they are being called. One day you are told you have cancer and practically the next you are dying with Stage Four metastasized tumors in your brain… and are on “Comfort Care.”
All this death. From a disease… that is one thing; a tragedy. From a toxic forced assault with a needle and an agent created in Frankenstein labs— that is a whole new level of horror.
I know evil now.
“My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her; out of a sullen hollow in a livid hillside her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was – liberty.” - Charlotte Bronte
Unfortunately, exactly 3 years later, it seems we're entering phase 2 of the Op.
The worldwide economy is collapsing, and there's no time to shed tears for what we have lost.
Hold tight.
I feel same. I know there is no returning to normal, but I do want to know how to enjoy a new normal - if it's at all possible anymore. Seems others are able to, but I cannot while things are the way they are. Moments of happiness from time to time until I'm reminded where we are or until I remind myself.
There was a vote to end all mandatory vaxination in the Australian Senate recently.
You still must have it for 90% of jobs.
Only 5 out of about 50 Senators voted to end them.
Apparently people would rather die rather than admit they were wrong.
I burst out crying uncontrollably for 2 years but it stopped abruptly a few months ago.
Now so much has a dreamlike quality. I spend a lot of time outside, gardening in a little tamed patch of the vast bushland. Only go to town once a fortnight for supplies. Wander naked sometimes in the garden when it's hot (it's summer here). I sing to the creatures around me - parrots, lizards, my chooks, the lambs and wombats and kangaroos.
I don't miss much about my old life - especially all the jabbed people and pretending interest in their worlds.
Pluto moves from Capricorn after 15 years into Aquarius on March 23rd. First time in that sign since the 1770s. We are all entering the chrysalis - wonder what we will be on the other side of the metamorphosis?
I recall a line from a Moody Blues song from their album Threshold of a Dream:
"Somebody exploded an H Bomb today but... it wasn't anybody I knew."
Beautiful, and I and many others share in your pain over these events, but your sharing dark as it may seem is beneficial to everyone's healing. Thank you again for all you do and share with us. God bless you and everyone suffering.
This week I met two colleagues for dinner in a restaurant. Live, in person, away from screens and devices, for the first time in ages. We were conversing and realized just how much grief and loss and trauma we have all been experiencing. Not necessarily from the same perspectives, but no matter, because what did matter was having people who cared to share the grief and despair with. At a certain point I burst into tears and all I could say was “I’m just so sad. So, so sad. I just want people to be kind to me, to each other.” The floodgates were opened.
The biggest traumas were from people we have known and loved treating us unkindly. Assuming the worst about us.
We have to stop hurting each other, but in the meantime, I will love relentlessly. And grieve. And feel the despair. And read The Truth Barrier. And love relentlessly.
What would I do without your voice, Celia? Last fall, almost retirement age, with no retirement to speak of, in fact,I moved back to my hometown, temporarily. To my small town on the O.hio River in Kentucky. My childhood home burned down a year or two before I moved. Left to tell me my story sits an empty lot, for sale sign marked sold. If only I could visit that old, dear house. It swaddled me. Even in the face of the immense disenfranchisement inside, it kept me alive, nurtured my dreams helped me find refuge in its shadows. Back here, 45 years later, somewhere I had never imagined I would return. My house of 18 years remains everywhere, and nowhere, A ghost that holds my childhood spirit. I pass by, no words, bereft, yet calling for its arms, and its trees I climbed. Gone, uprooted through the years: the persimmon, pear, lilac, apple, walnut, catalpa, milkweed, mulberry, sycamore, elm, oak and maple, bent down in deference to funnel clouds, rain and wind. No one there in a child's absence to hang upside down in them, swing from a tire, pound nails into little plank steps up to the treehouse platform, to deeply root them with soul energy, any longer. A cruel echo of this one's shelter from a time growing up on the O.hio. That first syllable now a sacred lament.
Yes, you’re so right, Celia. They do it with frequencies. If we don’t find our way to stopping it we’ll be cooked. We’re the frogs in the water on its way to a boil.
This is worse than communism and worse than prison.
Stalin never strangled ordinary people. He punished his political enemies, who were disobeying a clear law and knew what they were doing.
Prisons are not allowed to deprive prisoners of food or medicine as punishment. Prison administrations take that restriction seriously. Been there, done that.
Public "health" demons DO strangle innocent people, and deprive innocent people of food and medicine for the "crime" of resisting strangulation.
Sasha Latypova says the creators design is perfect. If that is so, this grief we share is meant for us. The world must need our tears. If part of each day is for this, so be it. This morning in March’s new morning light of Spring, I rolled up in blankets and sat looking at first rays because I know it heals one to do this. Grief in the end is all about love.
Oh how I relate to this Celia. I'm attempting to build relationships in my neighborhood, as I think we will - very soon - need each other. They are very much 'in' the prevailing program. Maybe a couple have some wobbles lately. I get together with them, and that awful feeling of being complicit comes up when talk turns to places to eat or clothes. It can be fully disorienting.
(I've already burned bridges in my town when this rolled out, so with this is a new group, I have a new strategy. We'll see.)
That was heartbreakingly beautiful. So human. Bless you.
If we are grateful for all the good things we have been given ,and return the smiles of the children showing them we mean that we mean it when we say God will take care of us then we can remember to see enjoy the little blessings which declares that the world is not lost just hidden temporarily in the fog.
I feel like an ant struggling under collapsing sandhills climbing to the top inside of a giant hourglass.
I won't stop b'cos up there is my hope.
I am an amazing little ant.
One thing I know for sure, no-one, nor no "THING" can ever take that away from me.
I take some comfort knowing i'm not alone. Need to remind myself though. Gerry & the Pacemakers. 3 min song. "You'll Never Walk Alone." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OV5_LQArLa0
"Open Genocide'...... that's it