Weirder Shows

Saturday's Greek Night went well, with plenty of spanakopita and excellent company for discussing life and its meaning. Still working that one out.

Sunday was for standing in the Park in Hexham, with some of last night's crew, other regular standers plus four brand new resisters. High energy standing, talking, listening and trying to understand what we were saying and why, took a couple of hours, then a newly found friend suggested coffee, meaning an in depth conversation with Paul at Bunters, where Joao offers food and drink plus a chance to practise Portuguese, though he speaks better English than many locals.

Meanwhile, other Hexham friends were in Newcastle being attacked by some police with batons, horses and a vicious dog, since they planned to march for Freedom. Now, instinct suggested that a poorly publicised event, so soon after that debacle last week, was not calling. That, and being knackered after the busy day and late night. Reports of the violence confirmed the instinct, and subsequent photos and videos horrified all who witnessed  them. Leading to a question about the wisdom of confronting the police with inferior numbers and no batons, horses or vicious dogs. Of course, this leads remorselessly to the point that violence can't win against the state, when the State has police and armed forces behind them. So, what to do? Maybe, just protest peacefully, by standing in Parks discussing Freedom, or attracting larger numbers for picnics in the Parks, with speeches and songs about freedom, plus dancing joyously, swinging strangers round and round, including police officers, who like a dance themselves, not to mention a cup it tea and some cake.

You see, suddenly, far from protesting against the police for Freedom, we're all being Free together. Fancy a dance constable? Maybe a hug, sergeant? How about a squeeze behind the trees, Inspector?  And just don't obey orders which make no sense.

A trip over to Blanchland for the traditional Hunstanworth and Blanchland Show, including a walk over the border from County Durham to Northumberland, revealed a mini fun day but no Show, for covid reasons, and discussions with locals and tourists about the political situation and a walk back to the car.

A message on the phone said Mike, a friend from Birmingham was visiting imminently, which means tomorrow morning for a day and night before he goes on up to Glasgow to renew his passport early on Thursday. We last met earlier this year, at Gaunts House near Wimborne, and discovered we both knew Sir Richard from time spent at Gaunts House 25 years ago. But that's another story, from another time ...

Show time in Weirdale ...

0530

A clear sky and high moon greet the blogger on Saturday, the first day of the three day Bank Holiday weekend. Hooray! A holiday for the banks! Plus the traditional rush from the cities to the sea, to join the masses on the beaches, exposing themselves in order to burn their pale skins, having enjoyed the company of the others in the traffic jams, not to mention the usual cries from children: Are we there yet? I need a wee! Whoops, too late! I'm hungry! Can we go home?

This peculiar behaviour is known as normal in the UK, and not a New Normal, as arranged by the New World Order, but just normal normal for large sections of society. Metaphors like lemmings following each other over a cliff are far to unkind for a neo-Buddhist to employ, let alone enjoy. Anyway, a similar day out on Thursday, with two small boys, one small dog, their Grandma and her car, meant National Trust fun at Cragside and no traffic at all.

This morning, a short walk the six miles West from Stanhope on the back road to the Agricultural Show, updale at St John's Chapel, is planned. Let's see how that goes.

Pondering the future possibilities, as the Great Reset unfolds, is the job of philosophers, along with choosing which side might win, and throwing all the energy available at the potential for an outcome opposed to the Dark Side, meaning a few copies of The Light in the blue rucksack, in case any of the masses thronging along to the Show. After all, that long deceased Karl Marx said: The philosophers have merely interpreted the world. The point, however, is to change it! A noble idea indeed, and an inspiration to millions and we can't blame Karl and his mate Friedrich that it didn't work out as planned, can we? After all theory and practice are two different things, and a disciplined proletariat led by a ruthless party, intending to bring peace and freedom to the world through violence in two stages, had two basic problems in practice. First, using violence to bring peace just can't work, obviously. Second, Lenin launched his revolution with many more peasants than proletarians. Well, we can't blame Vladimir for trying, can we? After all, the whole world was tired of war in 1917, so he seized his chance and withdrew the Russians, signalling to all and sundry that the Imperialists were finished ... well, not quite, only in theory.

1530

Well that was fun! A wonderful walk along the Weardale Way in warm Sun, wearing shorts and sandals and embracing the silence of Nature. Occasional traffic on the back road alerted the walker to the need to avoid a collision with cars, vans, an old vintage tractor and a couple of bicycles, which means ears are important as well as eyes.

As for the Show, just opening and not thronging so early ... well, it was tempting to turn round and walk back, but The Light in the rucksack needed sharing, and it was shared with old friends and new ones, plus a new person only seen on FB previously, not actually a friend at all, but Rich Holden, the Luciferian MP, who was temporarily delighted to meet a constituent, until he realised that there were questions to be answered about eugenics, Great Resets, Local Agenda 21 and has he seen The Light paper offering different versions of the truth?! Having grilled him politely in the Sun, as his eyes shifted from side to side as he wondered where his two henchmen had gone, and how much longer was the grilling going to go on. He was pleased to know we might meet again at Stanhope Show in a fortnight, but possibly not Wolsingham next weekend.

Many papers and discussions later, it was time for the bus home for a late, light lunch. The bus driver, having no one else to talk to, shared his opinions, resonating pretty much with mine, and several issues of the Light were shared with him.

Now it's time for part three, a Greek Night with the Hexham crew, at The Garden Station near Allendale. Quite an exciting day so far, and who knows what's next, though mousaka and souvlaki are likely, houmous almost certain, not to mention Spanakopita, or spinach pie as it's also known.

Further reports tomorrow!

My-cology, e-cology and so on ...

Sitting in the front porch, in the warm Sun, writing the latest news from the strange life, which, naturally enough appears as normal to the writer, and you dear readers must make up your own minds about what you call normal ... the early morning walk took longer than expected due to circumstances, so morning became afternoon, coffee before eleven became lunchtime and the Sun in the back porch moved round to the front, meaning coffee just after noon ...

Now, as is known, writing every encounter and all the details thereof, is hard work for a writer, harder still for a reader, and as for an editor ... well, let's just say he's away in France again!
Imagine writing every single thought, as it flits across the mind. That's what the meditators try to do, sitting uncomfortably on a cushion on a floor, with legs crossed lotus fashion, which is excruciating for Westerners, used to lounging on sofas and eating pizzas. To compound the problem, a Guru may check you are not sleeping, especially if they permit a proper chair on which to sit, recognising that some folks can still sit up straight to allow the kundalini to flow from your tail bone, chakra by chakra, until it bursts out of the top of your crown, blows your mind and you get your certificate to say you've been enlightened. Signed by a Guru, which is proof ... of a kind. Depending on the Guru and the gullibility of the seekers, of course.

Such scepticism is unkind to friends finding direct transmission of The Truth via an authentic enlightened being, does the trick. Nevertheless, it's clear enough that there are plenty of dodgy gurus seeking seekers to exploit ... known as the trap of the Guru, seeing the ego self as illusory, being worshipped by needy students, failing to notice the tricky ego lurking on the shoulder, and roaring back to bathe in the attention that egos crave. Good old J.Krishnamurti wisely taught: Leaders destroy followers, followers destroy leaders. Be your own guru! Believe it or not, K attracted followers from around the world ...

None of which leaves us any the wiser about the encounters and their details ... suffice to say each day becomes weirder than the last, due to the writer conversing with every sentient being along the walking path, more or less. Sheep pay attention when spoken to, cows, birds, humans, all sorts of life forms, even trees, too. And mushrooms, which are popping up all over the place, like magic. Bringing us at last to the title of this post, mycology. The hyphen is simply a device to infer a separate ego self, with a personal pronoun. That's how languages themselves trap us, and the reason they are used sparingly to break the habit of me and mine, my this and my that ... ownership! My wife, my husband, my children ... really? Do you own them? History reminds us that wives and children were property until relatively recently. So that's progress ... unless you fancy having a slave to do your work of course. And history again reminds us that plantation slaves became wage slaves, according to the Marxists. They had a point. After all, a feudal slave was a capital asset, whilst waged slaves counted as revenue.

Whether or not e-cology infers virtual worlds within this planet Earth, or whether weather patterns are really fundamentally changing so fast as to create panic about the problem of too many humans being too greedy, and wise leaders like Gates and other Eugenicists insisting on removing a few billion, not including themselves ... well, we'll see at COP in Glasgow as the gaze of the humans shifts from Paralympians, Afghans, Bio-weapons called vaccines, and all the other distractions making us more knowledgeable and less wise as the Universe expands exponentially and the ancient wisdom is either ignored again or respected as it must be ...

Crikey! Time is racing as well ... it's lunchtime on Wednesday and avid readers are still waiting avidly for the latest stories from the fertile mind of an old blogger ... never mind, there's plenty of time in an eternity, so don't rush, take as much time as you need to see deeper and deeper delusions or versions of Reality. The Sun is shining again in Stanhope, at A Place to Be ...

Coffee at the Beaumont Hotel ...

After an early drive over to Hexham and a walk around the edges of Sele Park exploring the fine market town, folks gathered gradually near the bandstand, ready for discussions about serious issues pertaining to the political situation as the eugenics plan developed and citizens around the world gradually began to see what was going on. This included a young couple on holiday from Surrey, who'd heard about the Hexham Resistance through a network of like minded people around the UK, and the female wore a t-shirt saying UK Column on the front, so we could recognise who she was. Her husband, whose business was selling furniture, was keen to find common ground, and there was talk about relocating hereabouts, since his wife was reared here. Clearly, selling in Surrey and buying in Northumberland is far easier than vice versa regarding value for money.

Some of the usual crew came too, including children, who tend to make new friends much more easily than adults, and also tend not to take offence or bear grudges as much as grown-ups. Discussions were intense, possibly due to the intensity of the confluence of the cosmos and full moon energy, and two friends decided to take an early break for coffee at the Beaumont Hotel nearby; a regular haunt for Resistance folks continuing the conversations. Now, these two resonate close to the frequency of the old blogger, so he decided to join them to tune in and find common ground. That seems to be the best way to learn from each other, by listening carefully and seeking, not gurus or leaders, but sharing energy and transcending the limits of thinking too much.

Finding a table for three, outside the Beaumont, Jacqui sat first and the blogger chose a comfy seat beside her, facing the road and the Park, and adjacent to three strangers at a table. As usual it seemed polite to smile and say hello, and imagine my surprise, dear reader, recognising an old friend with a flat in Hexham and last heard from living in the Scottish Borders with a dear friend for many years, who'd retired there and sold her house in a suburb of Durham City to buy a new one in a rural location. Now, things get tricky at this point, since my old frIend at the next table had taken offence at a remark made virtually regarding the fascist coup of March 2020, since his son was a senior police officer. The conundrum was resolved in a civilised manner, by saying hello in a friendly way and seeking clues from the response. The old friend's friend smiled, whilst the old friend declined, indicating that that the offence was still alive. What else to do, since Jacqui and Bill were unaware of the story, and we three were intent on sharing our energy and transcending the limits of thought?

For keen readers of philosophy, by the way, The Limits of Thought is a book compiled from the musings of J. Krishnamurti and David Bohm, as they pushed the boundaries in dialogue, and found that indeed thought was limited, and beyond was transcendent not-thought. Of course, the beauty in these dialogues, lies in two of the greatest minds of the last century, K from a mystical background and Dave a renowned physics guru, pupil of Einstein and rival to Nils Bohr. Bohr's problem was the uncertainty principle of Heisenberg, derived from the famous double slit experiment at quantum scale, possibly best expressed by Max Planck who observed that: When we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change! Inferring that Planck was a mystic as well as a pioneer of quantum mechanics. David Bohm also .... Bohr not so much, since he persuaded his pals in the Copenhagen orthodoxy to abandon philosophy and focus on probabilities, which led to the problems we face today.

After the Beaumont Hotel, came Waitrose, for shopping, where most shoppers were still wearing masks, even though it was no longer mandatory. This was causing a problem for the expert in the wine department, employed to advise shoppers on which wine was which and why. Steven wore no mask and his badge clearly said he communicated via lip reading. Now, to be honest, dear readers, shopping masked up would have been a minor inconvenience to me, compared to workers spending all day inhaling their own CO2 and steaming up their spectacles. It's a funny old world we appear to live in these days, where wine lovers ignore lip reading staff, as if the Disability Discrimination legislation had disappeared with the Health and Safety at Work Acts!

That's A Brave New World for you folks, A New Normal they say. Personally, as regular readers will know, this old blogger never found the old normal of Wars and Injustice acceptable at all, therefore clearly what's needed now is Peace, Love and Freedom ... how hard can it be?

Weekend delusions

Saturday August 21st 2021 in damp Stanhope, after walking with a small Shitzu through woods and over fells, for exercise for an old blogger and a small canine, prior to writing, reading and considering what on Earth is going on in the current illusion of the world as shown in propaganda censored by governments to provide lies approved for human consumption.

Dear reader, I have to confess: it's no longer clear if any of this shitshow is actually real, delusion or illusion. After all, many philosophers have suggested that we humans are only human when in relationship with at least one other human, inferring the absence of ego self, fundamentally. Obviously there's no point being here on this planet, discussing the Meaning of Life using symbolic language like words, numbers, music or art to communicate with ourselves, is there!

Let's face it, we might as well have remained part of Nature in the first place, instead of imagining we were higher than the rocks, plants and animals and only lower than what we called Jehovah, God or Allah, for want of a name for the numinous, which we would never understand. Anyway, all that religion, has been covered here many times, and even before this 2019 scam it was clear that a World where Wars and suffering were organised by demonic forces, and Worlds Beyond were available for humans who really focused forensically in one they preferred, leaving all the bullshit in Awareness, for context.

Information arriving from the virtual worlds available on all sorts of channels, including seers channelling from cosmic realms, suggesting good times ahead, as planets and moons align in the sky, and humans seeing the chance of trips to better worlds without all the paperwork demanded by the Luciferians and their slaves in order to cross borders, which are merely imaginary lines on maps, dreamt up to divide and rule humans, as usual ... well, clearly none of it makes sense, does it? Anyway, the good news is, the long awaited Age of Aquarius is here now, for those choosing to see it. For old folks, baby boomers in other words, recalling the decade or more of Peace, Love, Beatles, festivals with hippies stripping off and rolling in the mud, smoking dope, tripping on acid, and seeing heaven in other worlds, after the hell of WW2 ... the Dark forces made a comeback in the eighties, as avarice, selfishness and obsessive individualism took over the minds of so many humans ... imagine that! Lennon the prophet was shot, for singing Imagine a world of Peace, still a classic delusion in some hippy minds ...

Hey ho, on we go, Sunday August 22nd and another full moon full of energy to inspire the hopeful folks, preparing to embark on the spaceships awaiting ... though not before the Dark forces are exposed completely and the Light returns after thousands of years; a blink of the eye in the short span of a human life, let's say 80 earth years maybe? So, since it's Sunday, a short trip over the hills to Hexham again, seems as good a way as any to spend a morning in a Park with tribal friends, passing the time, discussing the Meaning of Life, and why we bothered coming to Earth in the first place ...

Meanwhile, in Stanhope, yesterday's heavy rain has watered the plants and washed the car, and filled the fells with water ready to flow in burns to the River Wear, where the sea trout and salmon are returning to spawn and requiring a little more water up which to leap, as they like to do every year about this time ... taking their chances with the herons standing still, fishing for breakfast ...
As for this human, porage will do, plus banana from abroad, and honey from the bees, busy in the  purple heather on the fells ...

Have you ever wondered, dear reader, whether the fish, the heron or the bees, consider the Meaning of Life or fear death? If you have, please write in with the answers, because it's not clear here at all!

Lucidly dreaming

Sleeping is vital for resting the body and relaxing the mind, and eight hours is considered optimal, with another eight for working and the third part of the twenty four for watching the telly whilst eating a takeaway pizza and popcorn. In the olden days of capitalism things were different, before automation, when six days each week were for working far more than eight hours, sleep was a luxury, pizza in Italy, and Sunday the one day of rest. Unless your work was droning on to the sleepy masses about how God loved them so much he sent his only son down to suffer and die on a cross, so the poor bloody masses could feel guilty about nodding off in church, when they'd rather be in the pub getting pissed to forget their miserable lives ... well, it's safe to say, that the masses of mainstream Christians, dreaming of the pub, were permitted to drink alcohol and gamble their earnings away, whilst the Methodists were promised Hell if they dared to defy the wrath of John Wesley and his God, though he meant well, even if rather stern. Any women reading this provocative post, showing little gratitude for being able to read, write, vote and express an opinion of their own, may point out that having God as a father to fear, Jesus a man to revere, and a Holy Ghost of indeterminate gender making up a holy trinity ... quite a story eh? was patriarchal nonsense. These days some versions of the tale let females up front to preach the story to the dwindling congregations, to revive the organised religions, or some of them ... but that's quite enough about the egregious error of organising, measuring, monitoring Things, when things are merely energy vibrating in reality, maybe a holographic projection in three dimensions and illusory.

If we take spacetime as the fourth dimension, what on Earth is the fifth one, much discussed in esoteric circles or spirals? 26,000 year cycles within an Eternity, by definition beyond Time, what can it mean? Maybe this story is unearthly and referring to other planets or even parallel universes, and the ancient prophesies are overdue ... pointing not necessarily to a matriarchy but the balance between the two?

Anyway, the lucid dreaming is coming along fine, once the deep sleep is done after an hour or two, and deeper questions are dreamt, asked, answered and responded to, including whether reading more books, writing more blogs or FB posts, marching on the streets protesting about the Luciferians and their doomed dark game ... and waking refreshed this morning to write about the experience of lucidly dreaming, or hallucinating, or whatever goes on the the minds of the egos, not to mention Universal Mind, of course, which once tapped into, offers Freedom from delusions and Fear, without mescalin or other psychotropic drugs ... it seems entirely possibly that everything is in the Mind, including notions of Heaven and Hell. Which is comforting.

Listening to Aldous Huxley on audio, with an actor emulating his posh diction, may well have influenced the dreaming, as The Doors of Perception opening was close to bedtime, and Huxley was self-assured in his perception during his mescalin trip that the small ego mind, normally very confident, disappeared from view, since it's fundamentally false! This view chimes with Wear & Dao in the crumbling villa near Guadiaro in Andalusian Summer some years ago. You can read it yourself if you like!

Well, that's the blog writing done for today ... what next? It's 11.11 as this is written, so another coffee might be nice!

Hexham in light rain ...

After the excitement of asserting the right of human beings to walk freely along streets and roads, footpaths and open access land, and finding public servants blocking roads wantonly with minibuses and officers with batons drawn, Sunday was a day of rest, since God had spent all week creating the universe and deserved a day off. Fair enough, there's always more creating to do, and these days creative humans create things any time they like. This version of the creation, or at least most of the lives of human beings residing on planet earth, went wrong a long time ago, when humans let the male half take charge of things, leaving the females as slaves basically. This was known as patriarchy, though matriarchy was practised in some places apparently. The Amazons were in charge there, and they weren't delivering parcels for Jeff Bezos, a bloke. Clearly the only fair way is to have a balance, or a jobshare, with God having two genders creating fairer worlds, without wars or poverty or any kind of oppression.

All sorts of discussions went on under the shelter of the Bandstand in Hexham, including feedback from folks who enjoyed their day out on Saturday, plus info that the police had arrested two leaders the night before and locked them up to keep them safe from the protest. Incoming information from mystics in Hexham included all sorts of cosmic battles going on and promises of ascension from the third dimension to the fifth depending on our vibrational frequency, which is quite exciting.

Similar news arrives on YouTube to reinforce the message, leaving the mundane questions of an Eton toff left in charge in a country of humans, mostly seeing him as untrustworthy, yet tolerated as fit to lead the Luciferian clique in the UK, which shows the scale of the mass hypnosis amongst the masses, watching telly and believing the bullshit.

The weather changes again, as Sun and warmth is forecast for the last two weeks of August, and September's often warm too, as the blackberries start to ripen, and Stanhope Show returns after Chapel and Wolsingham ... which is nice.

Protesting in Toon

Saturday was a fine sunny day in mid-August for a walk around Toon, as Newcastle upon Tyne is known in the Geordie dialect. Now Toon is actually a small city, thanks to a cathedral, which defines the large town on the North side of the city. On the South side lies Gateshead, the poor relation, always struggling to keep up with their rivals over the wide river which once divided them. Of course, these days there are many fine bridges uniting the Geordies, plus a foot tunnel further East, though as far as football goes, Gateshead has a team of its own and a decent stadium, though the players were mostly semi-pro's and seeking promotion to full time careers with the Magpies or the Mackems, which is to say the black and whites and the red and white stripes on the shirts, separating Newcastle from Sunderland. This brings the divide and rule story back to Weardale and Stanhope, since the river Wear wends its way from here through Bishop Auckland and Durham City to the North Sea, where it disappears as a river with a name, though the fish which spawn in Weardale, returning from their wandering in the North Sea and maybe the North Atlantic Ocean, to die and leave the next generation of salmon and sea trout to go exploring, maybe ending up on the plate with chips or smoked, to preserve them for later ... or something.

Meanwhile, the walk from Heaton along the Ouseburn and over the landfill site now only a memory, led to Stepney Bank, where the burn returned, and a nostalgic visit to the community farm, now much improved and the stables where the daughters learned to ride horses when they were small. The younger one fell off and decided riding horses was not her thing, while the elder persevered and kept getting back on, only fracturing her shoulder much later, by which time she was happy to accept the risks involved in riding dangerous mammals, and even bonding with them and canines too, as she embraced the rural life, whilst her sister loved Toon ... which didn't mean she stayed there all the time, since her love of adventure and risk taking led her to explore far and wide, including Australia, Cambodia, Vietnam, Penang, Thailand, Myanmar and even Sunderland, where she currently works at the job she enjoys, baking cakes ... though she draws the line at actually living South of the Tyne, and commutes on the Metro from Toon, where she resides.

Anyway, none of these reminiscences take us to the existential crisis facing humanity today, do they? So, a walk along the Tyne and up to the Civic Centre, to join the mob of protestors gathered there to assert the right to freedom of expression and an end to the oppression of the past year and a half, led to the interesting manouevre of the constabulary, policing by consent as one officer affirmed to your protesting old blogger, blocking the entrance to the pedestrianised Northumberland Street, previously the Great North Road, or A1, before the traffic needed wider roads to get round Toon instead of through it. This seemed quite provocative and batons were drawn to confirm the public servants meant business, leading to hotheads to object to the insubordination and push back at the usurpers in uniform, though without guns. Of course, this altercation just confirmed that the servants of the public, including local and national governments had indeed gone rogue, and the illusion of democracy was exposed as a farce at last.

Hey ho, on we go, playing human games, which is what humans do, to pass the time between being born and dying, which is only the blink of an eye in evolutionary time. .. bringing Sunday's post to a message of hope, not only in Stanhope, or Hexham, but via the Hopi prophecy that Christopher Columbus made an egregious error treating the sacred land of their ancestors as a dumping ground for all sorts of folks from Europe and beyond seeking freedom from oppression by the Catholic Christian Authorities burning heretics to confirm that Jesus loved them so much they must obey the Pope, a bloke. And, let's face facts, if you want compassionate guidance, would you honestly put a man in charge of anything? It's men who think war is a good way to settle disagreements, not mothers of young men returning with posthumous medals, isn't it? I mean, really, who on Earth thinks Boris Johnson is safe taking care of us, and has the interests of the masses as a priority?

Time to see the Tribe of warriors in Hexham again, since it's Sunday, and the clan gathers at ten to discuss the vital issues developing in the weird world of the humans ...

Reflecting on living and dying

There's nothing like the death of a friend to bring the question into focus, and this week has seen Frank's body go back into the ground, plus a dear friend from Brockwood, Carvi, reported missing whilst swimming off the coast of Dorset. Carvi came to England to teach at Brockwood Park School many years ago, from Brazil, joining other teachers and children at the internationally renowned school, set up by Krishnamurti, Bohm and others 50 years ago.

In the few years since we met, either volunteering at the school or visiting the Centre, built later in the grounds, in fact opened just after K died in 1986 and before David Bohm in1992, we shared philosophy and wisdom from our experience. Our common observations included the idea that book learning was one thing, and living the learning something else. Carvi took good care of his body and his mind, was always kind to everyone and well known for his muscular body, which he shared as a model for life drawing. Of course, drowning as a cause of dying resonated deeply here, in Wear & Dao, where a similar fate was flirted with ten years or so ago, in the waves of the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal at Zambujeira do Mar.

Whether Carvi ever heard or read the story of nearly drowning at sea, I don't recall, but as far as ways of dying went, let's say it wasn't drawn out into years of suffering, at all.

The reflections on death and dying were deep, in consciousness awake and in sleep, with profound dreams last night and the night before. All informed by book learning that living a life in fear of dying, is no way to enjoy life at all.

Tomorrow is for action, which seems to be called for since freedom is important and the Luciferians disagree. Somehow they took power over billions of humans, and started a Malthusian movement to reduce the world population significantly and enslave the rest. Peaceful protests are happening worldwide these days, including in Newcastle, quite close to Stanhope. If some people are depressed and in despair of the future, which many are, then taking to the streets en masse is the traditional way to lift the despair and find fellow resisters at the Civic Centre and from there marching to wherever ... we find out tomorrow! See you there!

A Funeral

Well, that's the first funeral actually attended in a Church wearing a suit, for quite a while. The local charity shop found a smart dark suit with a perfect fit and in good condition, which means it may be useful for a few more funerals, before it's time for this old blogger to hang it up or wear it at his own funeral. That's still unplanned, though Frank had left instructions and made arrangements for his, including a last will and testament, whatever that is ... this may sound typically feckless, but at least there's not much clutter to clear in the Retreat House, a problem for Frank's wife, which is just as well, since it's not clear who would have the task of sorting out all those details here, though it won't be me!

Since Frank's children were scattered round the world, and unable or unwilling to travel from Hong Kong, South Africa or the USA, to see his coffin go in the plot he'd reserved in a beautiful spot, surrounded by trees, right next to Diana ... though he may be waiting for her to join him for a while. Since she was born into the Silvertop family, owners of Minsteracres given to a branch of Catholics called Passionists, who worshipped the story of Mary the Mother of Christ, who was a virgin thanks to divine intervention by God, the Father, his Son Jesus and the Holy Spirit making up the Trinity much spoken about and written about in the book or Bible, where the word of God was revealed to the world in two main versions. The Old Testament was for the Jews and their God was very cross and spent a lot of time smiting people he didn't like. Moses seems to take the lead here, and the Ten Commandments arrived on tablets of stone. They were basically things we must not do, for fear of going to hell. You know the sort of thing: Killing people, seducing the wives of your neighbours and so on.

Anyway, moving swiftly on without commenting on how well these orders were obeyed by the Jews, or the Christians come to that, except to say religious wars have been a blight on the Earth for far too long, and that includes Hindus and Chinese of different religions, not to mention the Muslims based in Arabia who exported their form of peace in a never ending struggle using violence to convert heathens to the Love taught by Jehova, God, Allah and other names for the unnamable, best expressed where East meets West - Jerusalem! William Blake wrote a few words about these issues, including the Hymn of that name with lyrics proclaiming Jerusalem might be built in England's green and pleasant land. We're still waiting for that, and Blake was lucky not to have been burnt alive by the Catholics for suggesting that essentially all religions were one. Or was it the Church of England by then? Let's face it these religious wars between The Once True Faith with a Pope in charge, and the split led by Henry the Adulterer, are still going on. Northern Ireland, split from the island of Ireland and likely stitched together soon, still has British soldiers suffering PTSD from their service to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, the second. The first was the daughter of Henry, who never managed to knock out a bloke to succeed him, despite arranging for several Queens to have their heads chopped off. Seems like a nice bloke!

Frankly, this post has spent far too much time exploring these questions, but that's what Frank and I spent most of our time exploring, which was after all the reason for a sceptical old blogger to be present at the funeral of a good friend, who went to his end finding comfort in his faith that he was going to Heaven, which seems like a good option to me. Of course, Heaven and Hell are the products of the life we are living now, as explained by mystics of every religion. Frank found salvation in Jesus through conversion, as did Diana by returning to the religion of her childhood. If that meant and means they were and are content to pass on to other places when the body dies, that feels like a good idea to me.

What do you think, dear reader?

Busy weekend with 8 8 Gate ...

After a relaxed lead up in and around Stanhope, enjoying the frequently heavy showers replenishing the river and fields, not to mention watering the garden and washing the car, the weekend was spent mostly over the hills in Hexham and nearby at The Garden Station, with The Tribe hanging around over those parts, to share Lionsgate Portal fun and games.

So, before we start, shall we try to define Tribe? Why not!

Collins rather large dictionary offers many sorts of Tribes as one might expect. Not to mention adjacent words beginning with Trib ... some quite surprising, but that's for you, the reader to discover, anyway it's not any old tribe, but My Tribe, which makes a huge difference, of course!
Leaving aside the question of personal pronouns inferring a small self, and since this chapter is about human groups and how they seek like-minded folks with whom to resonate, more or less, let's say vibrational frequency is key, as well as physical proximity. Others may have virtual tribes or groups of folks all over the place, but that's their tribal business, not mine.

Now, if frequencies align, more or less, perhaps if there's a clear signal, without interference crackling, then that suggests coherence between two or more humans. Frankly, such clarity is tough enough between two humans, let alone a whole tribe, though a brief retuning of the dial may clear the crackle for a while. So, the next question is: how many humans are optimal in a contemporary tribe? Two seems too few to be called My Tribe, and hundreds perhaps too many, unless we have a cult, of course, where the followers adjust their dials to resonate with the Leader, the Wise One, for fear of upsetting him or her, and being expelled from the Tribe. Since this idea leads to questions of organised religions being cultish, perhaps that's best left for now, except to say such cults still provide comfort and like minded company, even if hypocrisy is observed occasionally.

So, My Tribe these days, appears to reside a few miles North in Hexhamshire, which works for now, since a car can be there soon enough to meet the tribal group. And clearly, not all of them resonate at exactly the same frequency, which is not a problem. Having a Chief, Shaman, or Wise Elders running things to align the Tribe ready for tribal wars with neighbours is not required these days.

And tribes come and go as does everything on this planet, the Earth Plane as it's known on other wiser planets, from which we came ages ago, to teach and learn essential lessons, about Peace and Love, basically.

Meanwhile, in Stanhope, the Sun returns to warm us as harvest time approaches and the agricultural shows, cancelled by the fascist government last year, begin updale at St John's Chapel, then Wolsingham downdale, before Stanhope Show in the second weekend of September.

Before all those fun and games and celebrations, the serious business of removing fascism, not with force, but simply by declining to comply with senseless orders, mocking the fascists, and taking to the streets ... this Saturday 1pm in Newcastle and all round the world as folks wake up from their nightmares.

Then it's back to blackberries and apples to eat, as the illusion crumbles, and mushrooms appear like magic, for nourishment or visions ... take your pick!

Honestly, tribes are one thing, solitude another ... it's all the same here at Wear and Dao ...

Power shifting slowly ...

After yesterday's esoteric meandering around the Crisis created by the World Economic Forum, chaired by Professor Klaus Schwab, co-author of The Great Reset, which laid out for all to see, the brave new world agreed at Davos and elsewhere, soon to arrive, as the Shock and Awe phase moves over, with sufficient fear embedded in people all over the world, and a New Normal allows us all to Build Back Better, with digital currencies and guaranteed Basic Incomes, so we may all Own Nothing and Be Happy, as long as we behave ourselves and comply with the orders issued by the Authorities and backed up by Armed Forces enforcing the proposed New Laws banning assemblies of protesters, demonised by the official narrative labelling Freedom as dangerous.

Three cheers for the Fuhrer, trying to complete the work of the Dark forces begun ages ago, when Wars were encouraged by psychopaths, as if pacifism was a bad thing, and millions of ordinary men and women went off to kill other human beings for no good reason. You don't need to be Christian to understand "Thou shalt NOT kill", or any kind of religious person in fact. It's against the Law in every country more or less, unless your government declares War, then it becomes legalised murder, as noted by many war heroes by the way.

This current crisis is an opportunity to make choices, as always at such times. You could say: The more serious the Crisis, the more important it is to choose wisely. Clearly, those not prone to hypnotism for whatever reason, have a vital role to play in explaining how the Fear was brought in by the Dark Side, using Applied Behavioural Psychology at all levels, as explained by U.K. Column News' Brian Gerrish, a retired Royal Navy Officer, who spotted the problems years ago with the Nudge Unit of Cameron, in Coalition Government with Clegg, who landed a top job with  Facebook to continue his work with better pay, as so often happens in the revolving doors of Whitehall. 

A radical bloke from Alberta, Patrick King, has hit the social media with his legal challenge to the Health Authority to prove that the fascist restrictive measures were justified by evidence, which they failed to do. The federal judiciary are disputing his case, of course, leaving serious questions about corruption everywhere. The very persuasive Symposium hosted by U.K. Column, with uncorrupted medical experts, including Mike Yeadon, just has to find its way into the censored mainstream media, to create a major shift in power. Let's see.

And, as summer heads for a heatwave and fires break out as usual, parents of children are faced with a big decision about permitting potentially dangerous drugs to be injected,  when the risk of children dying or even being ill from this flu or any other is minimal. More sinister still is a recommendation from health "experts" that their main target is to inject children with disabilities.

Eugenics? What do you think?
Trust this Goverment? Anybody?
Trials for those culpable, soon?
The sooner, the better!

Lions Gate opening soon....

August being the eighth month of the calendar in use in most of the World, which decided that a year might be divided by twelve, to make one month. Of course, a lunar month is more like thirteen, since every twenty eight days the Earth Moon waxes and wanes, moves the waters of the seas, not to mention menstruating women, and is considered auspicious when seen as new, as well as when full. Astrologically Leo occurs around this time, and Leo is a lion, in English. Skipping to numerology, the eighth day of the eighth month has significance, not least to Leo the Lion, whose portal opens on Sunday, along with the New Moon. Where the portal, or gate, leads us, is yet to be seen, but let's hope it's good news!

As it happens, a friend found standing in the Park in Hexham, was fairly certain that the Lion's Gate was opening on Sunday, sometime. For quizzical readers, please note that there is no shortage of pubs in Hexham, but The Lion's Gate is not one of them. Being of a spiritual disposition, and keen to learn more about the numinous, this World Crisis offers many perspectives, from the fearful to the fearless, the quantum to the cosmological, the religious to the atheistic, and so on; what's clear enough is that we don't require quantum physics or cosmology to know fascism when we smell it, or a degree in Ethics to know so-called experts at the Behavioural Insights Team at Cabinet Office are bullshitters, let alone trust drugs companies renowned for corruption.

Research on the internet reveals more and more convincing evidence of the intentions of the Plutocracy to screw the mere mortals yet again. White Rose and UK Column are very popular with sceptics, though mostly unknown to the hypnotised; and life, the universe and everything continues to amaze those curious to explore old stories and new ones. Such is life without television in 2021, needing other ways to pass the time, as the final curtain calls ... but not quite yet. Does this old blogger imagine he's still in the role of Che Guevara, as in previous times? Not really, but it was fun then, and it's fun now, so nostalgia notwithstanding, it's afternoon and time to wander and spread the message of rebellion in Weardale, if any wandering humans wish to discuss the issues of fascist governments and why they are not a good thing.

Having successfully exercised the legs and found a posh suit at a charity shop, for the funeral next week, at a bargain price ... and let's face it, you never know when a posh suit is required for weddings or funerals, though probably not christenings ... a tourist or caravaner from Sunderland wearing a skinhead suit and head, plus insignia suggesting a youth spent challenging authority. It seemed a good idea to enquire about his hobby and he said he still loved the music but not the racism, and he was certainly not keen on fascism in government. He was happy to accept some copies of The Light, so, job done, here we are filling the space in the blog before sending it out to the world to read. Well, those few folks who actually read it, obviously!

Rescues of dogs and human beings

After a full day of discussion at the Park in Hexham and the house housing two human beings plus two huge rescued dogs, where a picnic occurred in the garden, attended by many humans who'd spent the morning by the bandstand, keen to continue the conversations and check out the property of two of the humans, who'd arrived there not long ago from near Yeovil, with the two huge rescue dogs, from Rumania. Let's just say, Rumanian shepherd dogs' job is not to round up the sheep, but to deter the wolves trying to eat them. The male was very kind, and happy to greet the strangers, whilst the female was rightly cautious about strange men, feared their intentions, and took a while to calm down. Not unlike some human behaviour, of course!

A phone call from a dear friend needing a rescue from the flat she was clearing after the demise of her husband, a good friend of mine, since her car had died with a red light indicating no brakes, so please stop asap, if not sooner. A journey with Daisy, over the hills from Allendale, to Weardale and nearby Crook, was easily accomplished, the friend rescued, and both of us happy to remember dear Frank, whose long life, as an investigative journalist, had been amazing and worthy of a full obituary another day.

Meanwhile, in the lying mainstream media, full of divide and rule tales about a world beyond belief, but allegedly true, where some Human Beings are so callous they question why the RNLI, whose mission is to save lives at sea, bother saving dark skinned children from drowning in the English Channel or La Manche in French. The reasons given by the heartless ones is fear that England may be swamped by bloody foreigners, forgetting that not so long ago, in 1066, England was invaded by bloody Normans, who actually took over the country and gave away the land to their own kind of people. Hence the many expressions in the English language actually French, such as deja vu, as seen before, and bon appetit, since the English food was so awful that we didn't bother saying anything much except get it down you and get back to work.

Back in Stanhope today, the game goes on as the customary early walk reveals many canines walking their humans, grateful for having been rescued, and glad to give back unconditional love in return for full bed and board, walks, vets fees and someone to pick up their poo.

Even dogless humans are spoken with to share the good news that Stanhope's a great place to live, for incomers, locals, rescued dogs, other dogs and even cats.

As for the Light propaganda, that's still going well. The masses are waking up after a long sleep and many dreams of what, who knows? Maybe a nightmare? As is known, any dream seems real at the time, so if we learn to enter a dream from a reality we don't like, we may change our dreams and create a reality we love!

Worth a try, don't you think?