Happy Halloween!

To y’all, from me, your rude, arrogant, selfish, bitchy, teasing, crazy, conspiracy theorist, antagonistic, irrational, petty, entitled, condescending, hermit-spinster, witch-doctor, gray hag, squirrel-cheeked, monkey-faced, mostly bitter, salty, solipsistic, rage-filled, nobody of an American homesteader.

YUP, that’s my 50 year old cleavage in a 35 year old hand-beaded necklace gifted by my mother-in-law. It’s also a tribute, then and now, to Handy Hubby’s new life, and all that he may be missing.  And gaining.  

And there’s that pesky teasing coming out again.

More on that, so much more, don’t go away. Hasta pronto . . .

In the meantime . . . Celebrate YOURSELF!

In my humble opinion, Halloween is when the spirits are begging us, goading us even, to celebrate our precious LIFE! As in, those final precious hours before it’s all over.

The Wandering Jew & the Lucky Bamboo

The Wandering Jew & The Lucky Bamboo: A Fictional Conspiracy Theory

Do you understand the plants are made just like that? Compare them to the ones that were like, painstakingly crafted?

If you knew there was a difference, would you wonder who crafted it, and how, or even why?

Did you know the sandwhich, the olive, the vodka, were all crafted? Of course you did.

But did you know also was the potato, the tulip, the rose, even the honeybee?

That I hate going to the dentist is no mystery. But in some States, particularly in the South, it seems, sedation is an option. Now I hate going to the dentist slightly less than before, as in all my way too long functional memory. On the gas, there is some enlightenment, as you’ll see.

Twice now I’ve been to the dentist since the Plandemic, because I have dental issues since childhood, not to mention dental trauma, from the choking fluoride treatment molds that tormented me every six months for a decade. That I found these treatments horrific is considered a mental weakness on my part. That my mom paid for them from her hard-earned wages, and trusted them, breaks my heart to this day.

Now they’ve required me to sign a checklist that I have no symptoms of the Covid during these last two visits where only the gas, and lovely company of kind women, guard my fragile acquiescence .

At these days they’ve also insisted on taking my temperature via a digital thermometer directed precisely at my 3rd eye.

That is, the pineal gland. Little do they know, I’m sure, the conspiracy theories that surround that teeny-tiny gland. Right behind the directed laser pointed right there, to which they are given a number, as if that is the only signal that instrument is designed to relate. And as if they would know any other reason why this instrument is now being more normalized than the obscene body scanners at the airport.

I hate dentists, so much so that my latest dentist is my heroine. She gets what honest dentist-hate is like. She commends my stoicism in the chair, bless her heart. I honor her sacrificial hours and delicate sensitivity which I recognize as akin to artistry. She really is someone worthy of far more than her title. I like her, and I’m not being even remotely sarcastic. I can hardly imagine what it’s like to be a woman like that.

“Feelings are considered to be internal human structure and architecture.  But what you imagine and create are far more important—and the creative process radically and naturally changes feelings in a positive way, as a side effect.” Jon Rappaport

On the gas, I reflect, and tears flow, beyond my knowing, how. They are so kind, they see, they don’t define. Are you ok? Yes, I am, right here, right now, I am ok. And I see how flimsy that is this sedated happy feeling in the here and now.

Are you? Are y’all? Is that enough? Is that ok? Do you load yourself with duty and then pray you’ll sleep and have enough still to spend another day?

Would you have enough pity, prana, love, care, energy, to say . . .

Would you really like to know what it was like for me, in the pit, today?

I did not get the impression s/he did. Bypassing is our only call of fame. From the pedestal the pit cannot be understood. There is no degree of compassion that might pacify the pit.

Because you see, in the pit, your compassion is where I most love to shit.

That you preach how I should feel makes it that much more worse
But you praise and anoint yourselves with kudos and more books

It is an annoying block to enlightenment for those who perpetually misunderstand. And are misunderstood.

“If I do not describe the details of our work it is because we were busied with things which lie beyond speech and which therefore elude the spell that words exert. But everyone will remember how his mind has labored in regions which he cannot portray, whether it were in dreams or in deep thought. It seemed as if he were groping for the right road in labyrinths or sought to unravel the figures among the patterns of an optical illusion. And often he awoke wonderfully strengthened. This is where our best work takes place, and so it seemed to us, too, that in our struggle speech was still inadequate, and that we must penetrate into the depths of the dream if we were to withstand the threat against us.”

The cynicism that regards all hero worship as comical is always shadowed by a sense of physical inferiority.” Occulture: The Unseen Forces That Drive Culture Forward by Carl Abrahamsson

That Greater Good

S/he who has spent each day of life in excess
Tells me what makes happiness
And then expects me
to accept

S/he who has spent an eternity
Stringing hearts and sipping wine
Just sweeping cobwebs makes them flee

Imagine what toil would bring working 7 x 7
Blocked in this cell H called Time
still undefined, yet quite refined

Distanced from death, pumped and sterilized
For maximum effect
Selling that golden dawn
Singing spare the silly sparrows and
Let the lambs roam free

Call on LORD technology
Or your local shrink, shaman, clergy
Or any other shark to guppy

You play capture the
Scream of the butterfly
As if consent wills

Heart or nature’s lie

You will not win
But to prevail
For a fort-night
Is fine for tempests pay

Trap it
Milk it
Right where it’s at
That greater good
Well played plant

A fair fly trap
Crow to know
One day
The wisdom of our
Dismay

 

 

Crowd the Bubble

Handy Hubby claims he’s becoming a social distancing bully.

I think he’s becoming a perfect disciple of civil disobedience and further honing his already natural aptitudes in that essential discipline. He complied with Costco’s face mask dumbass police-y, but at least he makes it expensive for the collective in so doing.

The corporations will only respond to strong collective action, strong collective action can only be flamed by the torch of the strong individual.

So, of his own accord, he chose to crowd the bubble. He wore the mask, because we have a fetish for bulk shopping, and I hate shopping. He took another one for the team.

He just made a few of his own rules along the way.  Like, once a shopper’s indecision caused him a moment’s annoyance, he broached the six-foot distancing zone, causing enough discomfort for the shopper to stop hemming and hawing and make a choice already, so he could move in for his kill.

I’ve already mentioned in many posts he’s nearly an expert marksman. He shops the same way he shoots, which was the same way he seduced me—move in quietly, have a concise agenda, work fast, take no prisoners.

As further recrimination, he repeatedly pulled down his mask.  Why would he pull such a stunt?  Oh, just because he couldn’t breath.  Well, I guess breathing is considered the entire reason for social distancing these days, so mark that another winner!

For my part, I slowly, oh so slowly, basked in the empty aisles of my favorite antique store, touching everything of even remote interest.  I filed longingly through several old books and bought a few, with cash.  Then I put another few items on credit card, and watched as the clerk, who knows me now, because she knows I love it there, use hand sanitizer.  I said, “You know, I know you’re following police-y, but that stuff is not good for you.”  She confided, I know, I’m just trying to be cautious and accommodating.  I said, with a wink, refill the bottle with lavender-scented water and aloe vera gel , no one will suspect a thing.

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Recently, one of Hubby’s passengers was tested positive for the cornholio, now he’s lying in the hammock drinking beer for breakfast. This is what quarantine looks like here at Chez Shell, aka Kensho Homestead.

Thanks Corporatocracy! Greatest Apocalypse Ever!

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I will end here and now blessed with a river of knowing in this song, passed along through the hands of one receptive woman, and in deep bows to those who are waving along the banks as I flow, have inspired me, challenged me, caused me the pain and chaos that sparks my flame, as an individual, passing, in wisdom.

And occasionally, with great and aching discernment, even very selective gratitude.

Humanity Is NOT a Virus

An awesome, inspiring, common sense, philosophical, funny conversation between two men almost as awesome as my man!

What’s the prana economy?  What’s homesteading life like? How is it so many just can’t/won’t/will never lift the veil? What’s up with the masks?  And lots more very compelling content!

The Tyranny Of Niceness

It’s invading even my preferred forums.  “We’re polite here,” says the moderator, who boasts constantly about his ‘free-speech’ platform.  I’m reminded of my grandmother, bless her heart, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

If I can’t say it, can I show it?  Maybe with a photo or a painting or a poem?

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Jan Saudek, Czech painter, photographer, hand-painted photos, pre Photoshop

Really? Are we not adults? Must every passionate reproach come with milk and cookies lest you soil yourself with fear? Must your poetic weakness control even my righteous indignation?  Have you ever wondered why you’re so afraid, as you pretend you’re surrounded by love?

Shame, guilt, coercion, all erode free speech just as much as shadow banning.  As do the ubiquitous ‘community guidelines’ and the silencing, the ostracizing and ‘casting out’ of uncomfortable or critical viewpoints.  Funny thing is, the very ones who complain about this the most, then seem to pile it on at the very same time!

“The iron hand that crushed the tyrant’s head became the tyrant in its stead.” William Blake

Perhaps he’d be inclined today to add something like: “The velvet glove that chokes the angry voice hides a martyr in her garter.”

Like laws, these ‘guidelines’ are selective, what makes one guilty in one situation is not universally applied to another’s whose infraction yielded results beneficial, albeit perhaps even criminal, to the Alpha myth-maker’s agenda.  

It all comes complete with fake feel-good language and unspoken devotion to conformity to tribe norms.  Enforcing conformity through indirect aggression, as demonstrated through  Phyllis Chesler’s controversial book “Woman’s Inhumanity to Woman” or the ultra-feminization of culture, as explored through Michael Tsarion’s work on the malignant feminine we can see exactly how the Globalists and their ilk continue to successfully cast their sticky net today.

https://www.usda.gov/oce/sustainable/

https://www.garydbarnett.com/the-technocratic-state-is-the-mortal-enemy-of-the-individual/

What’s unspoken, and unallowable, are questioning the underlying assumptions. “Sustainable to what/whom, exactly?”

“Efficient and effective by what standards?” 

They are so seduced by the image of virtue they’ve lost touch with what virtue actually is.  It’s not pretending evil does not exist.  It’s not turning a blind eye. It’s not transforming dissociation into a gift.  And it’s certainly not handing over all sovereignty to supposed ‘experts’ and ‘authorities’— the scourge of our modern-day adultism.  

If I pretend it’s love, it is love.  If I pretend it’s justice, it is justice.  If I slap a happy slogan on it, paint a rainbow over it, it’s fixed.

Jon Rappoport, When Virtue is the Greatest Crime

https://blog.nomorefakenews.com/2020/01/02/when-virtue-is-greatest-crime/

“They are the counter-revolution that has been building in this country for over a hundred years. It is being managed from elite platforms, and its goal is the destruction of every shred of the original ideas on which this country was founded. Destruction in fact, in thought, in action, and in memory. Wipe out the memory of…Individual freedom…And what freedom implies. Wipe out self. Replace it with an all-embracing societal machine dedicated to love.”

Set the next generation up for total compliance, blind obedience to authority, and we’ll call that love and care.

Love, as in complete lack of discernment, devoid of honesty or truth, beyond accountability, and we’ll call this perfect love, ultimate love, unconditional love. Before you know it, the abused will apply this to the tyrannical state as they did to the tyrannical family.

Except, that it has lots of undisclosed conditions.  Like, the tyranny of niceness and conformity.  If you make her uncomfortable, the rules change. If you require accountability, the goal post shifts. 

If you point out her highly conditional love, you see swiftly and clearly the real elephant in the room.

“After ten years in the field, I have had many prosecutors tell me that they prefer to not have women on their juries because women will not identify with the woman survivor, as a psychological means of reassuring themselves that nothing so horrendous could ever happen to them.  Women either believe that the raped woman did something wrong that “allowed” the rape to happen—or that what happened was not rape.  Either way, they themselves remain out of the Possible Victim category in their minds.” 

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Planned Obsolescence Rockefeller Style

Not just doomed to fail, but designed, then built, expressly to fail.

SMART cities are Agenda 21/2030 cities, NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) buzzwords include: “sustainable,” “resilient,” “connected,” “hi-tech” — as cool and cosmopolitan as the marketers try to make them sound, the reality is the polar opposite.  These cities are death traps and the Globalists want it that way.

Common sense question:  If ‘resilience’ were really the goal, why continue to rebuild,  incessantly, in places like Houston and New Orleans, and other fire-prone areas, or flood and hurricane prone areas?

I’ve never called myself a ‘doomsdayer’ among the many things I call myself, but I think I might start. 

It’s clear to see the Globalists’ get-rich-forever plan is alive and thriving after my recent trip to Dallas.  Of course, I’ve seen changes in our rural area as well, but it’s more nuanced: road construction, new fancy schools, increased consumerism, a noticeable influx of immigration in the surrounding small cities.

But Dallas, whoa!  From here on the wee homestead to there, as to Houston, or Austin, is as big a contrast as most any three-hour tours could take you today, I imagine.

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http://www.america2050.org/texas_triangle.html

 

I traveled alone, which I like to do, even though it often feels weird and lonely. 

“Weird” was a theme, considering one of my destinations was the Flat Earth conference.  Owen Benjamin was the comic crowd pleaser, me excluded.  He tenderly refers to the conference as “The Island of Misfit Toys.”

Then from Flat Earth to Ancestral Earth, for the Wise Traditions conference, coincidentally just 20 minutes away.

Coincidence, or synchronicity, was another theme.  More on that later, maybe.

For the moment though, here’s why I now have no doubt these SMART cities are for corralling human livestock for future culling.  The most basic logic, based on clear data that anyone could see, if they would just look.

Weather modification exists.  It’s not being used for the benefit of the populace.  The cities do not have their own food sources.  They rely on electricity to function already and will become even more vulnerable with IOT (Internet of Things) and the 5G grid. 

Both weather modification and 5G rely on altering the atmosphere through manipulation of frequencies, so as these systems attempt to co-exist in densely populated areas, we are in dangerous and uncharted territory. Many claim, lethal territory.

Because I met several awesome folks at each conference, I thought maybe, hopefully, they might look me up, and be reading now, and wondering if I have any quick bird’s eye perspective on my takeaway from each event.

Of course I do.

Of Flat Earth: The map is not the territory.
Of Wise Traditions: Look up.

Of Strategy, for us all: Know the enemy, know thyself.

 

 

The Age of the Vampire

What level of tyranny is just comfortable enough for you?

From John Whitehead’s commentary: The American Gestapo: Has it Already Happened Here?

“Much like the Gestapo’s power to render anyone an enemy of the state, the FBI has the power to label anyone a domestic terrorist.
As part of the government’s so-called ongoing war on terror, the nation’s de facto secret police force has begun using the terms “anti-government,” “extremist” and “terrorist” interchangeably.

Moreover, the government continues to add to its growing list of characteristics that can be used to identify an individual (especially anyone who disagrees with the government) as a potential domestic terrorist. For instance, you might be a domestic terrorist in the eyes of the FBI (and its network of snitches) if you:

  • express libertarian philosophies (statements, bumper stickers)
  • exhibit Second Amendment-oriented views (NRA or gun club membership)
  • read survivalist literature, including apocalyptic fictional books
  • show signs of self-sufficiency (stockpiling food, ammo, hand tools, medical supplies)
  • fear an economic collapse
  • buy gold and barter items
  • subscribe to religious views concerning the book of Revelation
  • voice fears about Big Brother or big government
  • expound about constitutional rights and civil liberties
  • believe in a New World Order conspiracy

Much like the Gestapo infiltrated communities in order to spy on the German citizenry, the FBI routinely infiltrates political and religious groups, as well as businesses.”

Some day soon we will all have to draw our proverbial line in the sand.  Laws must be universally applied, by rich and poor, by the powerful as the disenfranchised, and by the lawless as the law-abiding.  If those making the laws don’t follow them, then we are all living a charade.  And please, make no mistake about it, they want us living in a fantasy-based reality while they usurp the entire natural world.

This is exactly what the establishment is pawning and now what we the little folk have come to accept.  The establishment ‘intellectuals’ tell us such ludicrous lies and blatant baloney, like we should accept Vampirism, and we shrug and say, “Ok, whatever you say!”

FYI: 1905 Webster Dictionary definition of Vampire—from Vampyr, an imaginary demon from Greek mythology and “the practice of extortion”.  Get it yet?!

Your silence is your acceptance.

“How did the Gestapo become the terror of the Third Reich?

It did so by creating a sophisticated surveillance and law enforcement system that relied for its success on the cooperation of the military, the police, the intelligence community, neighborhood watchdogs, government workers for the post office and railroads, ordinary civil servants, and a nation of snitches inclined to report “rumors, deviant behavior, or even just loose talk.”
In other words, ordinary citizens working with government agents helped create the monster that became Nazi Germany.

Writing for the New York Times, Barry Ewen paints a particularly chilling portrait of how an entire nation becomes complicit in its own downfall by looking the other way:
In what may be his most provocative statement, [author Eric A.] Johnson says that ‘‘most Germans may not even have realized until very late in the war, if ever, that they were living in a vile dictatorship.’’

This is not to say that they were unaware of the Holocaust; Johnson demonstrates that millions of Germans must have known at least some of the truth. But, he concludes, ‘‘a tacit Faustian bargain was struck between the regime and the citizenry.’’ The government looked the other way when petty crimes were being committed. Ordinary Germans looked the other way when Jews were being rounded up and murdered; they abetted one of the greatest crimes of the 20th century not through active collaboration but through passivity, denial and indifference.

Much like the German people, “we the people” have become passive, polarized, gullible, easily manipulated, and lacking in critical thinking skills.  Distracted by entertainment spectacles, politics and screen devices, we too are complicit, silent partners in creating a police state similar to the terror practiced by former regimes.”  JW

Thelema Trumps Agape?

Passion is not chaos.  Drama is not intimacy.  Love is not Care.
I am not you.  You are not we.

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If you insist my blood, sweat and tears be used to line your pockets, then I will instead choose to fertilize the roses with them.

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If you insist I choose your laws over my own well-being then I will break those laws by every means, hook or crook.

If you insist I donate my organs to serve your nefarious aims, then those organs will come to you riddled with the poisons I willfully ingest, that I gorge on simply for the pleasure of poisoning your agenda deeper in return.

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If you insist I offer my thoughts to you, measured, tempered, on your silver platter, twisted in pretty plaits and coated in marzipan, thine will be done, my Lord and Master, but their bitter core you will still ingest.

So still we dance that macabre dance, mon seigneur.

Right the Wrongs

We have all been misguided, of that I have not a shred of doubt anymore.  Our culture, our history, our news, our entertainment, our religions, our future, have been fabricated and falsified and manipulated in such horrific ways as most folks can hardly fathom.

And it’s going to get worse.  This is not some apocalyptic vision of mine, there are plenty of those going around, and for a very long time.  Forever, even.  I’m a tiny fraction of a grain of sand in that vast hourglass.

“. . . A clown-like, grinning mockery of the victim(s) as a show of power and macabre arrogance.  When this is performed in a veiled manner, accompanied by certain occult signs and symbolic words and elicits no meaningful response of opposition or resistance from the target(s), it is one of the most efficacious techniques of psychological warfare and mind-rape.”  —Michael Hoffman, Secret Societies and Psychological Warfare

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We can lay blame, and I often do, on our own selves, as well as others.  I didn’t invent society, I can’t change the shit-show I was born into, that was fate, or something.  You can complain your shit-show was worse, or better, and I won’t argue.  I imagine most folks around the world had it much worse, or better, for whatever that means.

When faced with this truth, the truth that we’ve all bought a pack of lies, we don’t have a lot of choice on how we react—anger, resentment, bitterness, confusion, frustration, apathy, hope, forgiveness, fear—the list goes on.  I know all these reactions have value, I take them seriously, I dismiss none of them as of more or less value than another.

 

But when they are not a transitory state, but where one then chooses to reside, we’ve allowed the reaction to dissolve action.  We must make great effort to move from the reaction to the response.

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Our response, not our reaction, is what defines our humanity.  Every animal will react in fight, flight, fawn, freeze, in order to save their own skin, unless they are impaired.

Human nature has a higher calling.  You stand for, you stand against, it doesn’t matter, you’ve got to take a stand.  Once you’ve taken a stand, you know you fall, you know what falling feels like.  That is the wisdom of the gods.

A boxer once told me, while I was cringing, trying to be polite in delicately couching the fact that I hate his so-called sport — “Boxers don’t train to fight.  We train to get back up.”

I was flabbergasted at the wisdom in that simple statement, which I’d never considered before, and with which he was able to so tactically and efficaciously respond to my reaction.

I think of this now, because, as much as I never liked sports, or games, still I’m somehow wired to think strategy.  I was born into a game I don’t understand, which no one gave me the tools or teachings to navigate, but to which I was expected to adapt nonetheless.  At some point I chose, and still choose, to not simply adapt.

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I’m weakening, physically, but my mind and tongue are still sharp enough to benefit where age and injury weigh me down.  I think that’s a sign of one’s wisdom years, now beckoning me to return to the studies that will find new meaning in re-engagement, with now decades of life experience to inform on their deeper meanings and interpretations.

I feel blessed for this time and space and luxury to reconsider.