Full Moon Equinox

Well, that was quite a weekend as we move into the Full Moon Autumnal Equinox, and seasons change, food is gathered in to see us through the colder darker days and nights of winter. Beware of malign authorities dangling October school holidays like carrots, to draw us into their fear agenda of food shortages this Christmas, as the false pandemic and quite normal annual flu season produces the pressure on our dear NHS they create themselves, cases become illness and often deaths, as evidence that the so-called freedoms of the summer, must be the cause ...

Saturday, Mally Barnes, the Poet Sweep, arrived for the annual flue clearing and entertained the old blogger with his humour and tales of chimneys swept around the Dales. Then Jan arrived to discuss the issues of concern as The Great Reset rolled on and she found herself, like many others, bemused by the scale of the mass hypnosis around the world.

Sunday started damp and drizzly, as this old blogger set off early, in search of organic cream from Wheelbirk's Parlour, ready for the Monday trip to Scotland to visit the health conscious elder daughter, before the weekly Stand in the Park in Hexham. Sun emerged as friends from the Tribe gathered to review the political situation in its cosmic context, to lift the Fear created by the Dark forces identifying as governments and authorities, but obviously Luciferian. The afternoon was straight from there to the Magical World of The Garden Station, where Jill and Terry prepared a wonderful birthday party for Joe, aged 8 and Martin some decades older, with tribal friends enjoying the company of other human beings enjoying coffee, tea, scones and cake, in the full Sun, with excited children running around, the sugar rushing through their veins, and fortunately no vomits to report at the party itself. A huge dark cloud came over later, and water fell from it in great quantity, to green the grass and wash the cars, as Daisy made her way over the hills to Rookhope and Stanhope, and a some more Sunshine.

Early yesterday, Daisy set off up the hill before the Sun had appeared, and when he did, in the East again, some whispy cloud created a marvellous painting in the sky, which quite entranced me. On we went along the A68, up in the sky and down into the various valleys where thin mist was lying after Sunday's downpours. Photographs will never describe the awe, or these few words - so, dear readers, you may use your imagination, get up early and follow the journey, using time travelling techniques, and feel the awesome inspiration for yourself ... bearing in mind, that all incoming data is processed through each individual, uniquely conditioned mind. So it's tricky.

At the Scottish Border, after a swift hour, no barbed wire or armed Jocks were found to demand passports, so we continued swiftly on to Jedburgh, for fuel and a welcome pee. After which, the journey slowed a little as we turned off the A68 towards Kelso and round the bypass to try to find the quickest route to Duns. Having chosen a longer route, mistakenly, and having no satnav, maps, nor seeing any signposts saying Duns, this way, a side road right saying Farmshop open, seemed the sign best obeyed. A mile east Stewart, a butcher at the Farmshop, greeted me kindly and offered directions across to Duns, via Hume and Greenlaw, neither of which I'd seen before, meaning a whole new experience and route to Duns, where we stopped to admire the market town as it started work and children were going to school, and still being in plenty of time to arrive 5 miles North, since the elder daughter was taking her foster son to school in Berwick.

After a coffee in the market place, the well known route to the remote cottage tucked away in the hills, was found without further diversions, with time to spare to bump into Kit, a neighbour who stopped to talk, when synchronicities surprised us, since he sang in the choir in Salisbury with his wife, before relocating north ... the retired Bishop of Salisbury and his wife live now in Stanhope and are well known to me. The elder daughter returned and disclosed that her wife had been asleep after a night shift and she got up for a hug and a chat, before heading South to visit her Granny in Whitley Bay for the day. This left the elder daughter and me to take a delightful walk with Dot the dog over the hills with wonderful views in the warm Sunshine. What a life! After lunch, we went to Berwick to collect the foster boy for some limited conversation due to circumstances and another walk, before Daisy and I headed home to arrive to catch a sight of the Full Moon rising.

A deep sleep ensued before the energies of the Moon Equinox conjunction sparked me back to life, ready for an early walk and a sight of the Moon, which moved up and over the sky Westwards, while Sun appeared in the East. .. yet again.

Who knows what's in store today? Apart from writing this blog, of course, dear readers. It takes a while to make this stuff up you know, so I hope you enjoy it. If not there's plenty of other tall stories in circulation, including those made up by The Applied Behavioural Insights Team in Whitehall. And if you believe that shite you'll believe anything!

A sunny Friday ...

Busy long weekend starts today, in unexpected ways ... after postponing seaside trip, Stanhope provides blackberries for vitC, Sun for vitD and humans for energy exchanging. Energy being fundamental in the whole universe, as is known. High quality interactions around the village amuse and energise your old blogger, and one day when the full story is told, if ever, all will be revealed! Or at least what can be recalled may ...

The fake pandemic continues to energise, as General Elections are mooted, quite likely in many other nations as the scenery changes ready for the next Act in the Play ... what shall we call this production folks? Sure, it's tragedy, romance, kingdoms lost and gained, comedies of errors, including Nicola Macbeth ... Midsummer Nightmare maybe? So, if the theories of great conspiracies are right, and the Great Reset proposed last summer by the illustrious emperor, the Chairman of The whole World Economic Forum, Herr Schwab is in play, then the Shock and Awe in Act 1 is finally done, since most plebeians seem to have swallowed the narrative and submitted to onging surveillance and regular nanobots inserted under the skin, in order to thin the herd and train the humans to serve as slaves. A new normal, where we will own nothing and be happy.

Naturally, in 1984 and Brave New World, there were a few troublemakers, even in dystopias. There are quite a few in this one too. Despite the dire censorship, some never trusted televisions or news papers or politicians and scientists with ambitions and pockets stuffed with cash from the Corporations with drugs to flog and profits to share ... others even declared the arch-narcissist Lord Boris, Emperor of the British Empire, except the bits that weren't actually England's Green Unpleasant Land, as Wm Blake didn't write in his famous hymn, Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, The Light people funded paper no.13 is here to enlighten the darkness again. UK Column News is at lunchtime today. Later, Anita down the Dale will receive her copies of no13 to spread the propaganda to those prepared to see through the lies, and some along the way in Frosterley and Wolsingham. Information flows in through virtual channels to encourage Lightworkers to embrace their roles, Fearlessly ... the 5th Dimension beckons ...

The sheets are on the line, drying in the Sun. A light lunch is calling, before Daisy heads East with the good news. Tomorrow will come soon enough, Sunday is full-on, and Monday we're off to Scotland again, over the Border, to see the elder daughter, her wife, foster child and small dog called Dot ...

Tuning in the Tribe Vibe

The second day of the Stanhope Show was skipped in favour of the trip over to Hexham, to learn from the wise ones more or less on the same wavelength, and happy to adjust their dials to hear clearly the viewpoints of the Tribe. This infers energy is primary and material matters secondary, in trying to comprehend deeper versions of Reality ... it's taken a century and more to see Descartes' view as a partial truth, therefore essentially a fallacy, when seen sub-atomically ... and tempting as it is for inveterate punners, suggesting Renè had the cart before his horse, is not quite accurate in fact. Let's say his view of "I Am" assumes the one who thinks is primary, whereas quantum reality sees it as not that, but the opposite! For Francophone pedants by the way, je suis desoleè for the grave error on the two "e"s, and hopefully your shock is not acute. That's blogging on a tablet for you folks ...

As time speeds up, partly due to advancing decrepitude and partly to increasing awareness in the human beings, the importance of continuing the journey of questioning everything, trusting one's experience and how it is framed by preconditioned mind, energises an old blogger, who wishes to analyse coolly and calmly, whilst embracing the excitement of new experience, noted at gut level, especially when in relationships with other humans, feeling safe to express the universal form, Agapè, as primary, now that erotic love, Eros, is in the past.

So, how shall we define "My" Tribe? Words like Tribe have different meanings depending on context and subject. Anthropologists tend to visit less civilised groups of people in backward countries, whilst Philosophers and Sociologists prefer borrowing the concept to suggest highly civilised groups of people declining to accept the validity of national boundaries. Further definitions are required to explain "civilised", "backward" and "highly", not to mention "My"! Language eh? How can you trust it? Let's be clear, NLP is nothing new, just the phrase. Neuro-linguistic Programming, also known as the keys to power, has been used since words came into being. Some say Reality itself emerges from The Word. Maybe in the Judeo-Christian creation myth ... their Bible certainly held billions of humans spellbound by the fantastic stories! I mean, honestly, can you Adam and Eve it? Original Sin? Says who? I blame Eve for tempting Adam, personally. Standing there naked in the Garden, flaunting herself, brazenly. Then priests presume to punish men and women for enjoying the action, instead of simply procreating decently, with the lights off, and no nudity at all; just a fumble under the nightie and good night without a thank you or a question about how it was for you?

At the Bandstand two new folks arrived to tune into the vibe, as a few went off to meditate together and some stayed to listen to the music with other folks arriving for that purpose. Other tribe folks sloped off for coffee at the Beaumont Hotel and more discussion and adjusting of dials. Energised, as always by the Sunday treat, your old blogger from Weardale called into Waitrose before retreating over to Stanhope and home.

Monday and Tuesday were planned for more peace and quiet after the busy weekend, which more or less turned out as planned ... meaning the usual walks for exercise involved meeting friends and strangers to discuss issues of concern, tuning in with local tribe vibes and accepting that if the wavelengths were different, then adjusting dials was pointless, of course. At this stage of the crisis, humanity seems to be coalescing around fixed forms at different levels. Fear does that.

When Fear is not, Love IS!

Ohmmm. .. it's early on Wednesday morning and in this hour before Dawn everything's possible.
Well, not everything, literally, of course, but options and possibilities. A bus ride direct to Toon at ten? Why not? Walking in Stanhope, gathering the blackberries for winter vitC again? Writing words for readers or just to pass the time? Reading words in books from sages through the ages? In a way, Life is just occupational therapy ... we have a short time on the planet, becoming shorter every minute, so why waste it worrying about things we can't change? What to change today is the question. Meanwhile, trips are planned to the seaside to see the sea, paddle and maybe swim; to Scotland to see elder daughter and family ... and, most importantly the chimney sweep on Saturday morning, cleaning the flue ready for the chilly nights to come, as the traditional winter flu arrives around October ... it's rumoured that the Sars Cov 2, normal flu, covids, drugs for and against, will all combine to divide and rule us further in a perfect storm.

Buckle up folks, things could get bumpy! Stay calm - crises are for a reason. If it's a battle between Dark and Light, Good and Evil, then the choice is obvious ... Love always wins!

The Show

The Annual Stanhope Agricultural Show in Stanhope returns after two years, since the Junta banned it last year, because they could. How on Earth the humans gave up their freedom for a shower like Johnson and his gang, is hard to comprehend,.There are glimmers of hope from folks finally waking up from their nightmares, but it's taking a while, and many are so hypnotised they still think dangerous drugs, delivered free of charge, made by charlatans making fortunes, since free at the point of use, means taxpayers footing the bill, again.

An early visit on Saturday enabled a wander round the field, marquee and stands, chatting with friends not seen for ages, starting with The Churches Together crew outside awaiting folks of a religious nature, now that it's been seen that Blake's observation, All Religions Are One, is the best way to rescue the various versions of Jesus Christ's message from the slide in popularity apparent in Britain for at least two decades. The reason for eschewing the Marquee was given as caution about being infected by a dangerous disease thought to be circulating in big tents not set up for social distancing, since you can't be too careful, can you? Can you? Having spent some time in the Marquee throughout the day, discussing philosophic questions with captive stakeholders not wearing masks, and whole families risking their lives, blatantly close to complete strangers, we await reports of a surge in cases as a consequence.

The Methodists representing all the Christians were open to philosophical discourse, which went on for quite a while, on and off, and the customers were few, despite the lurking dread of death evident all round the world. Maybe the heathens are still not convinced of the message of the Christian God, that the End Times are arriving and now's the time to decide whether to go to Heaven above or Hell downstairs. Other versions of this scary story are available in different churches of course, hence all the Churches in the Dale, except the Catholics, uniting for economic reasons. Basically that's the two versions of Methodists, Primitive and Wesleyan, plus C of E, which is the Catholics without a Pope, more or less.

The search for the fascist MP, Rich Holden, went on all day, since further questioning was required to establish his reasons for bringing Fear to the Dale, as well as Consett, Burnopfield, Willington and Crook, where the Red Wall crumbled at the last General Election, much to the surprise of Holden and the chagrin of Katie, his girlfriend, who supposedly ran out of the Louisa Centre in Stanley when the results were announced, in tears at the thought of having to move out of London to mingle with the Great Unwashed in the South West Durham seat in North East England. Eventually a small marquee was erected, with a charming photo of Rich smirking, blatantly advertising his intention to be elected again, unless he could find a safer seat somewhere further South for them to mingle with the stockbrokers, the natural habitat of Tories. Anyway, Holden was wandering about the field, and the questions were shared with Douglas, who did the dirty work for Rich, doubtless with ambitions of his own. He escaped when a personal friend, Ian, arrived to explain why he'd decided to work the Dark Side and did he really trust a friend of Johnson. Well, we parted friends, and disagreed about the politics. He trusted the Labour Party less than the Tories, which is quite normal in Durham, since the County Council is well known for its corruption. Showing that divide and rule still operates, and Democracy is basically Tweedledumb and Tweedledee ... or Tweedledumber.

The numbers of folks risking infection grew steadily, and the competing sounds of humans speaking, tannoys annoying from at least two directions, paying attention to the stories of folks with opinions, not necessarily just to refute them, but to understand how humanity in this epoch, in the Western World, have embraced such a variety of versions of Truth ... whatever that is ... meant ears ringing, peace and quiet needed, and a retreat from the field, around 2pm.

Today, by the way, it's Tuesday already, and this post is late, due to Sunday and yesterday being less frantic but still active ... reports from the village say the two day show was a huge success, with record numbers of tickets sold ... 20,000 ... not to mention all those working the field or otherwise not recorded. Due to short attention spans, that's it for today dear readers. It's early and still dark. Sunday and Monday events and reflections may follow later ...

Heat Wave to Heaven

Well well, the short heat wave was hot alright! Even the lying beeb got the forecast right. A wonderful wander up and along the ridge between Weardale and Teesdale towards Wolsingham seemed a good way to pass the day, which indeed it was ... heavenly in fact. Full Sun most of Wednesday, with shorts and sandals only after the hour or so climbing up to the Elephant Trees, and no human beings to disturb the tranquillity until the descent into Wolsingham four hours later, and coffee. A message requesting assistance with the unanticipated arrival of a sick Grandchild was tricky, but a swift return along the valley footpath meant a fun afternoon walk with Dan, in need of exercise, fresh air and Sun to help him recover from his malady. It's well known that modern medicine is often more likely to make you sick than healthy, not to mention eating good food and drinking pure fluids, so Nature's Remedy helped cure him, despite his insistence that he really felt sick and might benefit from a second day off, this time with his other Granny. His younger brother seems to have missed the extra holidays, but at his age school is sometimes fun and teachers like to take the pupils outside in the Sun for fun and games of football. Teachers, of course, also like to play outside in the Sun, so it's win win all round!

Yesterday saw rain, some heavy, which was good to green up the scenery and help the fish wishing to spawn in a few weeks. The forecast for the weekend is fair, and some Sun, some showers today. Stanhope Show is always best with sunshine, though the stallholders in the marquees prefer showers, since it gets too hot inside for them and the punters.

This morning's early walk was still warm and sunny as the heat wave turns into a warm wave, with thunderstorms later. Imagine my delight, dear reader, to meet an old friend from the medical profession, early retired and having earnt extra on piece work, injecting mug punters with drugs with serious side-effects, and dubious ingredients. Of course, your old blogger is no expert in anything at all, and listened carefully to his answers. We disagreed on the lethal nature of the jabs, and the wisdom of inserting them into the bloodstreams of humans; but we agreed on the danger of trusting politicians or drug companies, long known for bribing or "influencing" those susceptible to earning a few bob extra to do their dirty work.

A bargain book from the charity shop, an illustrated history of the Civil War in the USA, only just small enough to fit in the rucksack, now joins the rest of the essential reading for a would-be polymath with a curious mind. Or any would-be historians like Dan, of course!

Time to clean the house a bit, since a new would-be Buddhist may turn up to read some books later today or tomorrow for the Show; the big event of the year in Stanhope in Weardale, by the River Wear, making its way from the hills near Wearhead to the North Sea at Wearmouth, via Bishop Auckland, Durham City and Sunderland.

Abundance again

September slips in with changeable weather and the Agricultural Shows hoping for sunny days and enough rain in the nights and weekdays to keep the Dale green, the river high enough for the return of the fish spawning and the grass growing for a second or third crop of silage or hay for the winter. The Autumn Equinox arrives later this month, and it's clear that it's getting late earlier each day. Berries are collected and early apples too, ready for pressing and storing for human consumption since we are not evolved to munch hay all day. Actually, we are not evolved to breathe in CO2 either, and workers in Waitrose yesterday expressed their relief that their managers permitted them to desist from working with the filthy masks on their faces, as the Health and Safety at Work Act had suddenly returned after a long absence. Trade Unions are another example of the corruption rife throughout the world, as Big Pharma rewards shareholders, including government officials and elected representatives.

Saturday was special, spending an afternoon lunching with a family near Hexham. Such a joy eating home grown food, made with love and consumed by three teenagers, two boys, one young woman of 18, plus one 22 year old young man, sitting around a farmhouse table, discussing with each other, as if such behaviour was quite normal. When I was their age it was compulsory, but such ideas went out of fashion years ago, along with dining tables. We four resisted it then, and appreciate it now. Well the third one does, the two sisters can speak for themselves, and our brother, who died rather young in Australia, is in no position to express an opinion, on this side of the veil at least.

Sunday was the regular ride over to Hexham, to Stand in the Park beside, but not inside, the Abbey. New standers and old standers stood discussing issues. Some even sat down, which was better for Lynne, using her motorised wheelchair. Disabled access is still an issue, despite many years of legislation against discrimination, though modern shops are designed to comply and big shops have to offer employment to differently abled folks. Regular readers with reasonable memory will recall Steven the lip reading wine expert finding the expert customers wishing to show off their knowledge of wine to Steven, declining to remove their ridiculous masks and ignoring him and just blatantly buying overpriced wine. This seems like casual disabilism, and possibly cause for complaint by the shop about customer behaviour. The two hours by the Bandstand was energising as always, and when the choir performing on the Bandstand started singing, beautifully most rebels found deckchairs and enjoyed the show in the sunshine. This left three caffeine addicts slipping off to the Beaumont for further philosophy, and the spare chair was soon filled by Sophie, a wise and feisty white witch. A little later two more wise women joined the gang, for further philosophy and witchery, since it's well know that women with strong opinions were often rewarded with a label and a barbeque. If not the bonfire, the ducking stool was employed to remind women who was in charge, by drowning them. Ah, the good old days, eh?

After the shopping trip, congratulating employees without masks, which was most of them, a friend who missed the Park in the morning was greeted with warm hugs, then two old locals expressed interest in resisting tyranny and promised to come along next week.

The tide appears to be turning from Fear to Resistance, and maybe Professor Schwab and crew are ready for the next phase of the Great Reset. Just don't imagine their new normal is better, or that the coming winter flu season won't ramp up the Fear. Many are waking up from the brainwash, but many are still asleep too. The question for each of us is: What shall we do to improve our lives, the lives of friends and family, and the lives of our communities.
To be honest dear reader, this crisis has not been hell for a retired old blogger, more like heaven actually, since it is abundantly clear here at Wear and Dao, that the crisis like all crises, is the ripening of conditions, and the metaphorical apples are ready to fall. And as the fallen apples rot on the ground, new seeds produce new trees, locally maybe, and often as far as the birds can fly, before they shit and drop the pip with it.

A small heatwave is promised, let's see about that. Meanwhile, there are berries and apples to pick, plus mushrooms, of course.

Gaunts, Gurus and Aristos

High energy visit from Mike, who spent time at Gaunts House before your blogger teamed up with Sir Richard, a baronet, to develop a farm he owned called Honeybrook. Being an aristocrat, and loaded with farms, land, alternative ideas, long hair, strong opinions and a Buddhist in his mind, the idea of forming a limited company, with two shareholders investing 5k each, with equal rights was optimistic to say the least!

Now, this impecunious pseudo-philosopher, required a monthly income, since he planned to work full time on the great idea shared with the rich pseudo-buddhist. Neither of us had a clue about business or how money worked, but a rational business case was constructed to justify further investment, especially since the capital asset of the Farm, the buildings and the land, belonged to Sir Richard. By this time, of course, the initial 10k was spent and Richard invested more to keep me going. Clearly, the power had shifted, as if an Eton boy with money to burn could seriously consider a common Grammar School lad and ex-communist, as an equal, Buddhism notwithstanding.

Meanwhile, the neighbouring aristocrat, Lord Shaftesbury, outranked a mere baronet, Eton or not, since an Earl is a Baron, which meant Richard was inferior, of course. Some decades before, the Earl had a plan to convert the Horton Inn from a pub to a posh restaurant and hotel, which he did, having invited the yokels to confine themselves to the public bar, unless they wanted to dress properly and pay posh prices for the caviar, steak tartare and chocolate brandy mousse all served from silver platters onto posh plates by waiters ... which was the job of the Grammar School boy, whose Dad encouraged the four children to work as well as study, since he thought work was a good thing in itself! We disagreed about that, on philosophical grounds, since hard work never appealed and the aim in life was to enjoy it, not be a slave.

Now Anthony Ashley-Cooper, the double barreled Lord, had a penchant for young women and gambling, which was his downfall, since the latest and last Lady Shaftesbury in Tony's life was a Rumanian beauty, aiming to shaft him and outlast him. When his body was found in a ditch on the road overlooking Monaco, the gendarmerie asked the young Lady for her alibi, which she had prepared earlier. Her brother, however, had no alibi plus the same motive and you don't have to be Sherlock to work out the case for the prosecution. You can find the gory details by searching on a searching engine, if you are interested in premeditated crimes.

Let's just say, the moral of the story is: Try not to be too rich, or to dump your spouse for a younger model with a gangster brother. Meanwhile Sir Richard had similar issues arising from cold parenting and more money than sense. Eton Boys eh, legends in their own minds, often psychopaths, always seeking the love of a mother advised not to turn their sons into softies or poofs. These days we say gay or queer of course. And more than one or two yearned for a return to the canings and penetrations they learned at boarding school.

Back in Stanhope, a new weekend begins with a damp start for the Wolsingham Show ... rather busy for an old blogger, prepared to wait for a week, and Stanhope Show. Maybe a heatwave, or Indian Summer? It's quite possible in Weardale in September!