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I think that in American society, their's a misconception about defining the word 'hero.'
To me, a hero isn't a famous sports athlete.
Instead, a hero is someone who risks his or her life to save others, such as firefighters, many police officers, and just the everyday person who risks it all to save the lives of others. They're the true heroes of our world.
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The Lady with Purple Hair
She stood in the middle of the parking lot,
thin, wearing a white sweater, with purple hair,
she looked lost, standing there reading from a piece of paper.
She was in my way, standing in the middle of the entrance
of a row, to the parking lot;
because of how she looked, I did not want to draw attention
to myself…so I managed to get by her.
I parked, she “The lady” was slowly meandering
across the parking spaces,
not paying the slightest attention to the traffic.
steps over the invisible line known as ‘normal’,
I notice, and do not know how to respond,
so a wide berth is made around them.
I want to help, but how?
She is just standing there,
…yes…but in the middle of a busy parking lot.
Was she in danger?
Well, it did not seem so,
cars, of course, could hit her.
Should I call the police?
Well no, she was not bothering anyone directly.
Just minding her own business
smack-dab in a busy parking lot.
So perhaps I am wrong in my assessment,
yes, most likely I am mistaken.
So many small peeks into a life on the surface,
which is true, but how she dressed and acted,
did speak volumes.
Who she really is,
the deep mystery of her life,
is known only to God.
I am 70 years old
and there is still so much about ‘me’,
I don’t know or understand.
It helps me not to forget that.
I am truly only known by God,
all I can do is to live each day
as it comes, dealing with what comes up,
in the most loving way possible
Not as easy as it sounds.—Br.MD
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I'm going to say something about this stuff. I know where the false flag meme started because it started with me and a dream I had a few years back which I posted on a forum. Then someone took it to GLP and from there it morphed and morphed and became that terrible harassment with the Sandy Hook massacre.
It's disgusting on a couple of points here.
First, the sheer volume of material that gets stolen from less popular posters by trolls and shills is astounding. Heck! I've seen stuff ripped off from these forums and used in T.V. shows, movies, and books. Lots of people's intellectual property gets swiped on forums and monetized by others. Not cool and a big reason I've clammed up over the years. Worse is when the material falls into the hands of trolls and gets used to torment victims of mass casualty events. That is just the lowest of the low.
Just because someone posts something on an obscure forum somewhere doesn't give permission to everyone that reads it to repost it at bigger forums, steal the material for their own purposes, etc. It's stealing and stealing is not as clever as you all think. That goes for the likes of Alex Jones, etc.
Secondly, real people die in these incidents and it gets turned into a game by crazy people on forums. It's sickening!
To prove what I'm saying, I dug out my original post based on my original dream.
This dream was originally posted Sat Sep 29, 2012, under LunaBaby, at oroborus and clubhouse11:
Post subject: Dream of False Flag
PostPosted: Sat Sep 29, 2012 10:48 am
I just remembered what I dreamed about last night. It was very disturbing too.
I'm not really a 9-11 theorist or sure about any of that. I think it was allowed to happen and there are reasons I think the government was involved somewhat, at least in a propaganda sort of way.
Last night though I had a weird dream that the government, not necessarily ours but some government somewhere, was in the process of undertaking a false flag terrorist attack against their own people.
In this dream, I was shown plans, diagrams, and logistics that were being implemented right now for that attack. It was made clear this is imminent and happening right now as an excuse to begin a long sought after war. This war that is about to start is intended to be huge and cost millions of lives from a faked attack by some government somewhere against its own people and country.
I was also shown how government agents of whatever government that is are going on the internet to frame the culprits they want to take the blame for this in webpages, postings, and e-mails.
No, I can't say what government or where this is, I don't know. Sorry. If I remember something more, I'll post it. Dreams are just so hard to recall sometimes.
To be clear that dream didn't involve mass shootings or going after second amendment rights. It was about a bombing in Eastern Europe.
Just my .02 on this sort of thing.
Why I Joined UNICULT and Why I Left
By Deanna Jaxine Stinson, HPI's Esoteric Detective
Halo Paranormal Investigations
Sacramento Paranormal Help
Sacramento Paranormal Haunted Hotline: 916 203 7503
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One day, as I am watching a well-known entertainment channel called MTV, I came across their long running series, “True Life.” I had originally started watching this channel when I was much younger. I was in a foster home, group home and mental hospital for investigations of child abuse on my family during the time I was 15, which led to my first suicide attempt and therefore the transitioning to these different places. Because of all the prior sexual abuse I had endured as a child from my daycare and these charges and everything that I had been through growing up you could say I was very devoted to music and that’s how I came to love this channel as we could watch music videos in some of these places to escape reality.
So, I really believed in this network and all the great shows they had to offer, even when they started joining the mainstream popular notations of reality and leaving behind the actual love of music. Fast forward to the case workers not having enough evidence to convict my parents, who were religious martyrs for the Christian bible and their understandings of it. They had been allowed to visit me in the hospitals and so started to manipulate me into thinking I was just not Christian enough and they really did love me. In fact, I was in a hospital so I must be the one not thinking clearly. They paid more attention to me then they had ever done in my whole existence.
At the time I was so naïve as I had no real understanding of the concept of love. Before my father and stepmother had taken custody of me at 8, I had been with my mother who would frequently leave my sister and I alone at our residences for days, weeks even, due to drugs, (we often moved, from one eviction to the next) and sometimes with friends, my grandparents or at a daycare with a lady who would not call the police, but instead keep us over when she wouldn't come pick us up, but resent this fact she was getting ripped off and not keep a close eye on us, which in turn left me to be sexually abused on several separate occasions without anyone caring or perhaps knowing. Because of her bitterness towards my mother, I often felt a deep sense of shame and guilt towards who I was as a person and felt I had no right to complain.
Then, we moved in with our stepmother who was in turn with my father to move us for her medical career very often, never staying in one city longer than months at a time, the longest being a few years in my teens. Not that this was a terrible thing to get to see the U.S.A, but it made the case where little time was left to focus on me or what I had previously been through. The focus was placed on my parents and what we could do to make their lives easier, such as by being “good kids” and letting them alone. Most days were terrible for me emotionally, but I found a sense of relief through places, people and entertainment.
Being as how the adults were speaking on all the adverse ways a child abuse charge would affect my parents and my parent’s reassurance that they were not abusing me, I was only focusing on what I could do to help them. In all my therapy sessions I would not even talk about myself as I was taught to believe I was selfish for doing so, therefore I never had a chance to mention my abuses, thoughts, feelings, just only how I could please my parents to make everything happy for them.
In the hospital, one therapist who every session we had, gave into my fixation with saving my parents and thought that maybe we could write a letter to the female senator who was running for office in the state we were in to help us. Sure enough, soon after the letter was sent there was a pardon on the case and we were returned home.
Something wasn’t right when we got back. My parents were not the same as when I was in the hospital. They were angry, upset and emotional again every day and it seemed once again to be directed at me and my sister. It was as if nothing I did was good enough. Even the bills were somehow our fault. One other major source problem was my obsession with the paranormal and occult due to my psychic abilities I was born with and being named after my aunt who committed suicide at 16 and all the family stories I had heard of their paranormal witnessing aliens, angels, reincarnation and the supernatural.
Flash forward two days later and I had done something rebellious again, I can’t exactly remember, most likely a quija board, a spell, staying out past curfew, going to a party or talking back because I wasn't perfect you know, I was a teenager who craved fun and attention and they were looking for a daughter who was likened to the Saint Mary with a 4.5 grade point average and thin and beautiful angel who did only godlike things. I ended up kicked out and lucky my friend’s family could take me in.
This pattern continued to repeat itself and the police would be called if my sister and I were so much as a few minutes past curfew and my father was friends with the small local police force and would spin wild stories and say we were “out of control”. One time I didn't make my bed and so he called the school to pull me and my sister out, who had a messy bed as well. He picked us up, stating an emergency. He tore apart our rooms, breaking things, trashing it and told us to clean it up and walk back to school and then he was going to convince the school it was an unexcused absence, even after he pulled us out himself. Once blaming me as a child for him looking at porn to my stepmother, saying I was doing it, but the story didn't hold so eventually he had to come clean and even saying he was taking us shopping or something and then go gambling instead with the money and such and such things which I could go on for pages on. BUT YOU GET THE IDEA!
I was kicked out the final time at 16 and so had never been taught how to apply to college or believed I was even good enough. Had my health insurance taken during this time and had no idea how to get birth control or anything like that and ended up living with a grown man as I had nowhere else to go to escape. So anyways it led to a life of teen pregnancy, low self-esteem, drug abuse, more suicide attempts, physically abusive relationships, depression and all that you could think of to do to get away from this idea of who I was supposed to be versus who I am.
I had never really thought of cults in a good sense before. The way they were depicted in the media in a negative light I had never really been entranced into wanting to belong to one. I had seen serial killers, weirdos and greedy people collecting on others hopes and dreams and wondered who would ever fall for that.
The definition of a cult as defined by merriam webster is “a small religious group that is not part of a larger and more accepted religion and that has beliefs regarded by many people as extreme or dangerous”
The definition by the medical dictionary, “A system of beliefs and rituals based on dogma or religious teachings and characterized by devoted adherents who display a readiness to obey, an unrealistic idealization of the leader, an abandonment of personal ambition and goals, and an eschewing of traditional societal values”
Basically, the actual defining of a cult is highly controversial and you will find a different definition everywhere that you look! This leads to tons of misidentification, misunderstanding and miscommunication for people.
One day MTV was playing their show “True Life” where they displayed cult leaders. At the time I had been writing music as Shooting Star Baby and I saw this one lady who was also a female musician who stood for unicorns. In my lonely head I thought that I could reach out to her to try to collaborate on a song. I was trying to find unorthodox opportunities and everything she was doing looked so innocent. I related to her through her past suicidal tendencies and ways of thinking and also she loved aliens of whom I have encountered many. We seemed to have a lot in common and I wanted to belong somewhere and feel validated.
Here she was saying that she was against corporations and all these large bodies of group, but it didn't sink in, but yeah why is she on a major network then, etc. She had so many like minded friends and that was a group I thought I waned to belong to. We had all seemed to experience this isolation and abandonment from being different from mainstream society.
I quickly found my way to researching the episode to reach out. In my head people on TV are just people in the news as its just a broadcast of awareness, but I quickly came to find out that she viewed herself as a celebrity along with some other of her followers so my attempts to contact for a collaboration added with my people pleasing skills quickly made it into my behaviors being thought of as fan like I’m sure.
She seemed so nice with catchy sayings like, “Here for you” Yes that’s what I needed was someone to be there for me. She seemed to spread positivity and love, which I was lacking and which she made an instance to show me this as well by saying I needed love. Yes, you are right. I didn't realize I was being sucked in so to speak as she seemed like a business person who sold cool artsy supplies, of which I willingly purchased, even though they were not really worth the price she was asking I felt like I was somehow helping her and this movement out.
At this point I realize I am deceiving myself, but the point I am trying to get across is that I was vulnerable, suicidal, desperate to be thought of as worthy to someone and especially maybe by a female figure as I was rejected by both my mothers and half sister. Who knows, whatever the case I put myself in that place and feeling embarrassed I just kept telling myself it was innocent, harmless. It was only online after all.
At some time, all the extra money I had I was using in buying her items in hopes it would bring someone close to me. You have to purchase levels in the cult to advance and then she would send you questionnaires and it felt good someone was asking me questions to get to know me. She would ignore me and only talk to me if I bought something from her, so I kept doing it over and over again. Its sad and pathetic, I know, but I am against the concepts of church who I literally feel stole my parents’ minds and pocketbooks so I thought I was doing something to fight against their power.
There were some moments which I was utterly disturbed which really woke me up. One is how she had this internet boyfriend who lived in New Zealand who she had this gorgeous love story with and had a go fund me so he could be flown to be with her, but she needed the help of her cult so everyone sent her enough donations to get him there. They got married and we were so excited and I viewed her genuinely as a friend in my mind so I sent her gifts to celebrate.
Flash forward to the future and they were breaking up citing physical abuse on both ends. She had stood for immigrants so hard in her case to get donations and was one of the reasons I supported her. But, then come to find out this was so shocking. He was nice and he actually answered an Instagram call from me one night and told me that yes, she did in fact punch him in the face. I tried to call her, but of course she wasn’t available for that. It was disappointing and it showed me the true nature of everything.
After this point she began to ignore her old friends and acquaintances to move to LA to get away and be a star or something I don’t know. I just assume because everyone envisions moving to LA to become famous. When in reality there are tons of homeless, drug users and horrible situations collected there than good.
She would always talk about other women who were popular in music like Britney Spears or Poppy and degrade them and I couldn't understand why besides that they were successful and that blew her gears to think of women succeeding like that. She acted like she was against the stream of things, but really she desperately wants to belong there too. She puts out this image that she cares about women and everything where I don’t feel she does. Its just for superficial justice. It is inauthentic and misleading.
Her next project was to start a sex brothel with robots. She desperately tried to get funding, even Cosmopolitan, another huge entity published her goal with the need of donations. At this point, it was triggering my ptsd from the sexual abuse in my past and I got really intensely sick to my stomach because of my issues and I started seeing her from a different perspective. She was talking about orgies with her cult and really highlighted unique sexualities.
Also, a level two kit that I ordered came and there was a floppy disc with information inside so I ordered it and I had to buy an external drive for my laptop as they don’t manufacture drives like that anymore and long story short it crashed my computer and I never found out was on that disc. I told her about it and she said she was horrified, not sorry or anything on my behalf, but shocked. No refund, nothing to make it up at all.
At this time, I said please just take my name out of your cult. I didn't want anyone else in a vulnerable position to think she was going to support them, talk to them or care like she sort of makes it seem like she will. I didn't want to be associated at that point any longer.
So anyways, the whole moral of the story is do not join a cult. Because you might be tricking yourself into thinking its harmless, but it has triggered my ptsd and that triggers suicidal intentions and depression, anxiety and all these life threatening issues. I don’t want you to think that just because someone sprinkles unicorns and glitter all over something that it makes it safe. AND remember you should value yourself first and foremost and never allow someone to take advantage of your perceptions, especially if it involves needing your money.
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I am just coming off a 5 day stint in the hospital.
It was actually life threatening due to blood loss.
Long story but, I was basically bleeding into my abdomen.
2 vessels were torn.
They kept bleeding until my abdomen couldn't take on any more fluids. That actually stopped the bleeding to a degree , or I'd have died almost immediately.
So.... Stubborn that I am, I refused surgery and a blood transfusion. Surgery.. Yeah no.
I had a friend bring me Chinese herbs the next morning. They stop bleeding cold.
That seemed to help, but I was eating up IV fluids, and when they drew blood, it was taking on the consistency of red watercolor paint.
I had very few red blood cells left, which made breathing difficult, and I was coming close to probably coding and or greatly infarcting my heart muscle.
They had a procedure to stop the bleeding as well. Not surgery... Duh, but as weak as I was,, it was impossible to do.
Yyeeaaahhh, so I had to give in and agree to a transfusion.
I got like 4 bags of packed cells. Maybe more. I was kind of out of it by then.
So, long story short, I had the PROCEDURE Sunday , and I'm out of the hospital today , in my bed, drinking tea.
They wanted to keep me 2 more days, and well, HELL NO.
I'm very pale, weak, but I have the herbs for that now.
I will be ok.... I.... think.
But, in short, I'd love to thank all the people that donate blood.
Without you, a lot of people would die.
I'd donate, but I'm too anemic.
I'm on the bone marrow donor list however.
As first time parents, we understand the excitement of a baby on the way and when baby does arrive.
However we do ask that people respect that we will give any news when there is news and we are ready to give it.
Our baby is NOT going to have face photos online.
We are the parents, we will have our own way of raising baby.
We appreciate advice and help, however please understand if we don’t take your advice or help it’s nothing personal it’s we are doing things our way.
There are people we will ask if we want advice, thankyou thou.
Picture by Evan-Amos - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18300824
^^ This is the first computer I learned to program on.
This bad boy * taps roof * can hold 1,024 bytes.
A FULL 1k of memory. And a tape drive to load and save it on.
The Rite Of The Monkey Cat Sleeve
What you'll need.
- Coffee (Strong with milk and two sugar)
- Shatter (2 grams one indica one sativa, plus rig to smoke it)
- Music ( Works best with Jpop or some Marilyn Manson set to loud)
these three are whats needed to call me forth from the void.
Place the Coffee on a table next to dab rig and shatter as music plays loud say aloud three times.
"I am a Cat meow meow meow I want a Sith lord now now now!"
then strip off and run in circles making funny noises for approx 30 mins.
repeat till I appear.
Should be done in a dark small room at around midnight your time
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I remember, in the early nineties, at the height of the animosity between The Sun and The Prodigy, they featured a story revealing how, just a few months before the band was formed, Keith Flint had been a meek, mild-mannered public schoolboy -- as opposed to the sneering, leering punk-god that he appeared on stage. They intended it to be a death-blow revelation. But collectively, we dance music fans -- simply shrugged. The nihilistic power of the Prodigy was not something that could be faked or cheaply appropriated. Keith Flint made more of an impression just by scoffing than the KLF did by burning a million quid.
As a scampy twenty-something (when I wasn't selling out by going to work), there was one main way I could be identified: I always wore a Prodigy T-Shirt. The scuttling crab of Fat of the Land, the screaming T-1000 head of Music for a Jilted Generation, an 'Experience' vest. The Prodigy had an angry, uncompromising ethos that otherwise could only have been found in right wing politics. In dance music terms, they were Orbital drained of every single ounce of romanticism. They were a version of Chemical Brothers specially designed for twenty-somethings about to fight in an Omaha Beach-style class war, scalping their enemies and cooking grenades to within a split second.
Also, let's not forget that they were skilled, hard-working musicians. Look at their contemporaries: no one's going to deny that Leftfield, or Goldie, or Fatboy Slim are dance music heroes. But let's face the truth, their albums are _full_ of lazily-written filler tracks that are really just a single bloke messing with the tempo of his John Shuttleworth keyboard. Each Prodigy record is practically an orchestral, ultra-dark concept album. The concept? Antiheroes stalking each other on an apocalyptic battlefield. Certainly there were moments of beauty or Rasta-style irreverence, especially in 'Experience', but then you were never going to forget that this was the type of music _Darth Maul_ probably listened to. The type of music Tyler Durden listened to (and I refer you to the Fight Club soundtrack album -- emulating Prodigy as Gobots emulate Transformers).
And so, I would say, 'Rest in Peace'. But 'Peace' was never a Keith Flint kinda thing.
And as for you God, NO MORE CELEBRITIES THAT I LOVE. Here's a list of musicians that no one will miss:
Tom Chaplin from Keane.
The whole of Snow Patrol.
The _'I wasn't expecting that'_ c---.
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While working with my Cleopatra thread on the Ancient Mysteries subforum, I came across this piece and it struck me, but it wasn’t appropriate to include it there. It contains a large intimated truth: the more that someone has in life – the more material rewards – the harder it is for them to lose it, or let go of it. This is especially true when one gets those rewards and doesn’t experience, along the way, losses to temper the ego’s gold-plated crown.
The ancient Roman we know as Marc Antony had lived the richest of rich lives: handsome, aristocratic, virile, athletic, an officer, tactician, protégé of Julius Caesar, orator, Triumvir of Rome, paramour of Cleopatra…Queen without peer (until, perhaps, Eleanor of Aquitaine), co-ruler of Alexandria at its peak, living in splendor and luxury and fame; it all came to him in a stream of battle and glory almost without fail. Until…he blundered at Actium and it all fell apart. Thinking Cleopatra already dead and all his vast possessions and position lost, he mortally stabbed himself and, learning she was still alive, was brought to her in her high tomb where she’d barricaded herself, and slowly died in her arms, gazing out over the magnificent city that his defeat had now delivered into Rome's hands.
Here is the gentle, sympathetic poem by the late 19th century Greek poet Constantin Cafavy about Antony’s final curtain:
The God Abandons Antony
At midnight, when suddenly you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly:
as one long prepared, and full of courage,
say goodbye to her, to Alexandria who is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and full of courage,
as is right for you who were given this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion,
but not with the whining, the pleas of a coward:
listen—your final pleasure—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
to say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.
So last night some time, I decided that I wanted to go back to sleep . Every time I turned my back away I would hear muffled foot steps or some sort of movement. Which as your usual response you'd turn around to see what it was . I was expecting either one of the cats or the dog but I didn't see anything at this point .
From there I kept on tossing and turning in bed and every now and then I would see this rapid shadow figure moving in front of the fireplace. For now let's call it "that thing", anyways whatever "that thing" was it hadn't quick manifest itself fully to completely Identify its full figure. But whatever "that thing" was it creeped me the **** out .
I finally gotten to sleep yeah, in the dream I recall walking up to the wall of this building outside. It was made out of sandstone bricks *I think!* on this wall someone write a message along the lines of:
"Messages doesn't always work on EVP. Don't try it."
Whoever write it used like a tiny black stone or pebble because you could see all the attempts the person made to make this message noticeable upon the wall. In the morning I looked up the dream meaning for EVP, believe it or not couldn't find jackshit on that. For those who don't know what a EVP is, its a device used to record voices of spirits that aren't heard easily.
Just before church I decided to use my Pendulum to figure out what "that thing" was and if it influenced this dream. I received yes for both. After church *about 1pm noon* I started making a vlog for my YTC about this experience where I recorded me using the Pendulum and using Tarot for more in depth info. I've also been meaning to draw what I saw in the dream about the message as well. So if there's any update I'll publish it.
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Better watch yourself
he’s just playing with you
saying all those words you want to hear
not one of them true
Holy roller, business owner, multimillionaire
you’ve been on the road of heartbreak
he’s the answer to your prayer
Philanthropist, romanticist, sex god love affair
he’s everything a man can be
now you’re tangled in his lair
That sickly, nagging feeling
Is he really who he seems?
Is he just an online fantasy,
or the answer to your dreams?
Time will tell and things will show
he’s played this game before
with her and her and her and her
and everyone you know
Disappointment and resentment
feelings you know well
Still it doesn’t seem to matter
your guard’s a fragile shell
Letting go and moving on; it isn’t really hard
the disillusioned disenchantment
of a heart already scarred
Sometimes you still wonder just who he really is
was that even his real name
but if he’s everything he said he was
he wouldn’t play this game
Church and Culture – February 16, 2019 – Hour 2 – Brother Mark Dohle discusses the individual spiritual challenge posed by the Church crisis.
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When i lie down to go to sleep and my eyes r closed the white part of my eyes roll to the front of my face and i see a whole seniero its like a play or even a skit and the whole event is like its in a bubble and im watching it and its usally about people i care about or about people i know and these skits ill call them its either about death or bad events thats gonna happen to them and i see and watch the whole thing how it happens, like whose in it who did it , but i dont know when the events happen .and after its all done i fade away and fall asleep. and i have other things happen dont know what to call it but...i could be standing next to someone and my chest gets completly hot like on fire and ill just blurt out, oh my god! something bads gonna happen to you ! but i dont know what or when. or i can have insticts of money like in my visions when im sleeping i see like scratch offs the winners on what im gonna win and what the scratch off is gonna look like like i had one where the scratch off was a bingo and it was 4 corners and i had bought a bingo one time and it was a 4 corner bingo but i thought i seen this before it happened .now these visions im having dont happen all the time but when they do there very true,powerful,i dont know weather to call it a gift, or ???? so if someone out there has similarities please blog me and tell me what the heck is happening to me oh and this my first blog ever i dont know much abot blogging or internet or computers for that matter so please be patient with me learning as i go... just need some input thanks Geminigirly
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I've been thinking a lot, lately about my country and the path we seem to be on. It's difficult not to become overwhelmed and depressed over the changes I see occurring daily. I try to remind myself that a large part of the bad news is generated as propaganda but not all of it is. This past week, the New York State Senate passed a law into their Constitution that allows a baby to be killed the day before it is due. It also allows a provider to end that baby's life even if it survives the abortion attempt and is born alive. The usual suspects on the Left vociferously defend the law by putting the best possible face on it. They point to the provisions about that decision being made due to birth defects but in truth, we all know that once this is commonly accepted within the abortion industry, there will be no penalties for those who exterminate a viable life for the sake of convenience for the mother. I made some statements in anger when I heard of this decision and even heard applause on the Senate floor upon its passage. I just want to make it clear that I don't hate New Yorkers as a group. I don't even hate those who voted for and cheered the passage of this abomination. I AM crushed and sad that any pace in America would pass such a law. Illinois seems to be getting in on the same action by attempting to pass laws that allow what is basically infanticide.
There are situations where a mother's life is truly at risk and as such, terminating a pregnancy, while horrible, is still preferable. The truth is that those situations are statistically VERY rare compared to the numbers of babies who are snuffed out simply because they'd be a burden on a young woman and her partner. The issue has always been polarizing and people cannot accept the goodwill that exists on each side. I believe that any legislator that votes pro-life should also stand up for helping to care for those unwanted babies. I think our nation has become so morally bankrupt that our future is sealed and it won't be pretty. When we fall, nationally, we will deserve it. We will be without excuse. If we can be so callous to the most innocent among us, what mercy do we deserve?
God's will be done, the sooner the better. We have become a habitation of every evil thing known to mankind. We ALL are responsible.
My name is Alan, I am 71 years old and I live in Tiverton Devon with my partner Jenny. I have worked all my life since the age of 15 as a carpenter. In my life I have had a number of experiences which although not mind boggling in themselves seem to defy any logical explanation, they are also different from each other in that they do not share a common thread or theme. The first one occurred at age 15 and the last at about age 57. Only I can vouch for my own honesty sincerity and integrity when describing these occurrences. I have an excellent long term memory and have often thought of these events as years went by, I would like to share them with you now, my reasons for doing so are to initiate in people the belief that we as human beings are not alone in our lives and existence and that when our lives and existence on this earth ends that that does not mean the end of our spiritual existance. My experiences have instilled in me an unshakeable and absolute knowledge that these lives that we live and share are just a small part of a much longer journey to who knows what or where. I welcome all comments both positive or critical.
When I was 14 my grandfather died, this was my dad's dad. My grandparents lived about half an hour by bus from my home. Along with my parents, my younger brother and four younger sisters, I would visit my grandparents house every Sunday afternoon without fail to meet up with my three uncles and one Aunty plus my cousin Peter who is one year older than me. It was always a happy time and after Sunday tea we would return home by 7pm.
One Friday afternoon I was at my grandparents house, I can not remember why. It was most unusual as it was a school day and only a matter of months before I left school for the last time. For the last hour of this visit my grandfather and myself sat side by side on the front doorstep, although I do not remember the details I know we talked almost non stop, it was a happy hour spent with him, my grandfather was very fond of me and always made a fuss of me. We were just passing time waiting for the 82 bus to Windy Nook which was only a ten minute walk from my home. About five minutes before I left my grandfather pressed a sixpence into my hand and said " There you are son, you can get yourself some sweets " soon after that I was gone, I did not know that I would never see him again and made the uneventful journey home.
Two days later, it was Sunday morning about 10.30 and my parents were beginning the early preparations for Sunday lunch. Two of my dads younger brothers my uncle Norman and uncle Alan arrived unexpectedly and clearly in distress, they told my dad that their dad had died of a suspected heart attack, my grandad was sixty three when he died. I remember very little of the rest of the day except that I was left to look after my younger siblings while my parents went away with my two uncles, returning a few hours later. When my grandads funeral took place the adults decided that I should not attend as it would be to distressing for me, I was hugely relieved I could not have imagined myself going to anyones funeral much less my own grandad. After a couple of weeks things returned to normal and continued to be so for several months until I left school three weeks before my fifteenth birthday.
Two days after leaving school I started work as an apprentice carpenter, although I had to wait until my 16th birthday to begin my official five year apprenticeship. I loved the learning process and the job itself, I still do and still work now fifty six years later.
After the death of my grandfather the weekly visits to my grandmothers house hand come to an abrupt end. Several months went by, I would guess about eight, I resumed the visits on my own. I had changed from a fourteen year old schoolboy into a more confident and muscular teenager a few months from my sixteenth birthday, these changes were the result of spending my days working with men who were teaching me my trade. I admired and respected them a lot and they responded well to my obvious willingness to learn, the work was physically demanding too, carrying long roofing timbers and sheets of plywood was an everyday occurrence and I loved all of it. It was a very happy time for me, outside of work playing football and reading were my two main passions.
It was in this relaxed and carefree scenario that I resumed my visits to my grandmothers house on Sundays, but now the reason for going was to spend time with my cousin Peter as well as visiting my grandmother. I had no unease or qualms at all about resuming these visits and looked forward to them every week I had quickly adjusted to the passing away of my grandfather and accepted it as part of lifes natural cycle. I think it took about six weeks after he died to adjust to the fact that I would never see him again and I did feel the loss. I regarded him as someone who had cared a lot about me. However when I resumed my visits I was in carefree mode with no concerns at all. Since the age of about ten or eleven I had also been part of a group of five close friends we did a lot together such as caddying at the local golf course, football, taking up archery and making our own bows and arrows as well as in recent months collectively taking an interest in girls.
Since resuming my visits to my grandmothers house I had made four or five weekly visits, all of them relaxed and uneventful. A pattern had emerged in that on each of these Sunday nights just before 6.00 PM my grandmother and her lifelong friend Mrs porritt who lived next door would take themselves off to a local club for a few drinks and several games of bingo, returning at about 10.pm. Peter and I would then spend most of the next two hours either reading magazines watching a bit of TV or talking before I caught the 8.00 pm number 82 bus to Windy Nook and home. One particular Sunday night having followed this normal routine the clock had moved on to about 7.45, Peter and I were in our Grandmothers kitchen where there was a back door through which you could access the yard and the outside toilet, all of these houses at that time had an outside toilet. Grandmothers toilet was about five or six yards from the back door and then up four stone steps and the wooden door of the toilet was then on the left. I told Peter in the kitchen that I had to go the toilet before going to the bus stop which was about a 150 yards walk from the front door of the house, I also asked him if he would get two magazines which I had asked him earlier in the evening if I could borrow, he said he would.
I walked through the yard and up the steps I was in an entirely relaxed mood and anticipating the bus ride home as well as arriving home in time to spend a couple of hours with my family, especially my two sisters who were closest to me in age being born less than two years apart.. I entered the toilet and spent about three minutes or so in there, as I was about to open the door and leave, the most remarkable and simultaneously terrifying thing happened. The unmistakable voice of my grandfather spoke to me from the area above and behind my head and this is what he said " Alan, don't be afraid son, I want to tell you something that will help you in your life" I was so shocked and frightened, I pushed the door open and took the four stairs in one leap almost stumbling on landing, the back door was open and I just ran, Peter my cousin was in the kitchen. I can not imagine what kind of an image I portrayed, Peter was completely startled by my appearance, indeed he looked frightened himself, he stood in front of me and kept asking me what was wrong and what had happened. I could not tell him, I was still trying to get my thoughts and myself in order over what had just happened. I told him that I was ok and that nothing had happened, it was obvious by his manner that he did not believe me but I could not tell him because I thought that it would frighten him further and it was partly due to the fact that I did not want to appear foolish in relating such an implausible occurrence. I left quickly, I just wanted to get home to familiar surroundings and my family but little did I know that on this day that my grandad was not finished with me yet.
Twenty minutes on the bus and a ten minute walk cleared my head and by the time I arrived home I was back to my normal self although still turning the events of the past hour over and over in my mind. At this time my brother and I shared a double bed in the back bedroom of our house. I went to bed at about 10.30 and my thoughts had turned to work the next day. I was working on the construction of a new school which was a mere five minutes walk from my house. I loved the variety of carpentry tasks that were part of my job.
I had not been in bed very long, ten minutes or so, my brother Raymond was asleep. I was lying on my left hand side facing the wall with my brother In front of me I was wide awake we were the only two in the room and the door was closed. Without warning I felt the unmistakable pressure of a hand closing on my right shoulder, I froze with terror, if anything this was much worse than what had happened three hours earlier. The hand on my shoulder was insistent but gentle repeatedly pulling my right shoulder back in an effort to get me to turn around, I was rigid with fear but the hand kept pulling, I heard a voice somewhere within me telling me not to be afraid but the voice was not mine, the pressure of the hand on my shoulder increased without actually hurting me, in my head I could hear myself saying no no no leave me alone please leave me alone, the hand and the pressure on my shoulder stopped. I have not the slightest doubt that this was my grandad.
for about the next ninety minutes I could not sleep at all, going over and over these two events in my mind. Sheer emotional exhaustion took me to sleep and I awoke next morning to broad and bright daylight and felt fine but perhaps still quiete a bit unnerved by it all but within forty eight hours or so I was the same as as I ever was. I had no further communication from my grandad,from time to time some years later I would sometimes think about it and wonder what it was that my grandad wanted to tell me. There have been times in my life when I would have welcomed advice from someone or a spirit not of this world but then I think that most people might think the same.
forty three years later I received a visit from another spirit, another family member. On that occasion I had no fear at all. In between there have been other strange occurrences not connected to the spirit world. In scale they are almost irrelevant or inconsequential but nevertheless less take a lot of explaining
I am sure that a lot of people having read this blog will offer the opinion that this was no more than hallucination or a vivid imagination. These views are to be respected and warrant no less creedence than my own views or of those people who's views are the same as mine. If the events described here were the only experience of such matters I had ever had then it would be difficult to counter the suggestion of hallucination, but that is not the case. In closing I would just like to say once again that I am essentially a very honest person. The experiences I have had are without any doubt at all real. I can not understand or explain them Other than these events happening to me at the times they did, each of them years apart I have never had any interest at all in the paranormal, it has never even formed part of my reading material which is almost exclusively non fiction with the backbone of it being Biographical
Thank you for taking the trouble to read my blog
Alan Copeland AKA Bill Eever ( believer )
My first blog entry, in fact my first blog ever was about my Grandad and his two attempts to communicate with me on the same evening, this would have been in 1962. My next experience which left me puzzled and with a question unresolved to this day took place in 1965 / 1966. It was fleeting, all over in less than five minutes. It was something I have very rarely spoken about , no more than two or three times in over fifty years, I think this is because it is probably the experience which would invite the most scepticism / disbelief. So once again I find myself having to vouch for my own honesty integrity and accuracy in relating this very odd occurrence.
A dream, or something more profound !
We were four good mates, myself Dave Levee Frankie McGee and Eddie Ruddick. We were all about eighteen and had been mates since childhood. Funny how friendships are formed sometimes, I met Frankie McGee one day in our local park when we were about ten we both ran from different directions for the one swing that was not being used, we got there at the same time and both grabbed it in a matter of seconds we were scrapping over it, throwing punches for all we were worth over a swing. Just when I thought I might be going to get the upper hand his big brother Eddie pulled us apart and made us shake hands.we became best friends for the next twelve years and never had another cross word between us. So on this night some time in 1965 the four of us had gone to Low Fell. Low Fell was great it had five or six great pubs three or four nice places to eat some nice shops and a snooker and pool hall with fifteen tables. It was midweek I know, probably a Thursday night and we had been playing snooker for a couple of hours. When we finished we walked to the bus stop which was outside the Gateshead Arms pub, it was still early about 8.30 PM. Right next to the Gateshead Arms pub was St John's Roman Catholic Church. In all the time we had been using that bus stop the church had always been closed and in darkness, but this night it was lit up and there was music coming from within and the sound of kids laughing. There was a wide pathway which led from street level where we were up and around to the double arched doors of the church. Someone suggested that we go up and have a look so we did. There was a lady sitting on a chair with a small table just inside the door. We asked if we could come in and she said we were welcome to do so, there was a small charge which we paid. She explained that it was a youth club for kids of fifteen and older, that soft drinks and light snacks were available and asked if we would be polite and not to noisy. We made our way to the back of the church hall where there were several long wooden benches. The benches were long enough for all four of us to sit side by side on one of them,I was on the right hand side as we looked out at the main group of kids dancing in the centre of the large church hall. There was a temporary counter with tables behind where soft drinks and sandwiches etc were available. My best mate at that time Frankie McGee was on my left, then Dave Levee and Eddie Ruddick on the other end. We sat quietly watching but not saying very much at all, we had only came in because the lights and the music we heard had roused our curiosity and as it was early and the buses were frequent we probably intended it as no more than half hour diversion before we continued home. The girls outnumbered the boys by at least three to one but most of them were at least two to three years younger than ourselves although still attractive to the casual observer.
even now after all these years it is still difficult to put into words what happened next but I will try to present it as best as I can. I was quietly watching the group of about twenty people on the dancefloor, then in my mind over a period I would say of between five and ten seconds the realisation came to me that this scene in front of me was familiar, not just the scene but the people in it. As the seconds ticked by the feeling of having seen this before intensified I could see a girl, taller than most of the others with straight long blonde hair below her shoulders with a very distinctive coloured dress on, deep wine coloured red with gold braided across her chest, then another person I recognised stepping up to the counter to buy something then two or three other individuals also familiar, I was beginning to anticipate their movements before they made them because I had experienced this scene before. During these seconds as they unfolded I felt almost disorientated and very unnerving trying to make sense out of what was happening. And then in an instant it came to me, it was a dream I had had, about three weeks previously. I was struggling to cope with the enormity of it I was still only eighteen and not emotionally or mentally equipped to deal with it.I thought about the dream still while watching these unfolding events and I remembered that at some point in the dream a gang of lads had run into the church hall and started hitting people indiscrimminately and in the dream when it happened I was in the Church Hall with Frankie Dave and Eddie. It is difficult to relate the sense of disbelief I felt at that time, that here I was in real time re living a dream in presice detail which I had dreamt of some weeks previously, but real it was. Almost instinctively I turned and pushed Frankie forcefully with both hands and shouted to all three of them " we have to get out of here now straight away" they must have been startled by this very uncharacteristic and intense outburst because as one they just turned and walked very quickly to the door and ran down the ramp to the bus stop. Almost in unison they asked me what was the matter, what had happened to make me behave like that. Once again and for the same reason as with my cousin Peter I could not tell them, it would have sounded preposterous telling three lads that I had had a dream three weeks ago that we were in this church hall and that everything that had happened in the church was exactly as happened in my dream, I could not even make up a reason fictitious or otherwise not to tell them I could not think of anything other than that you could have a dream about something that would happen in the future, exact in every detail. So said the only thing I could, I just said something really very very strange happened and I can not tell you about it. They were not happy about it but we were close friends and there was a bond between us. They knew clearly that it was not a poor attempt af a joke they knew that on this matter at least I was very serious but at other times I could jome and display impromptu humour at the drop of a hat as they say, or when the occasion demanded, they also knew me well enough and for long enough not to press me on what had happened so they just let it go. It bothered me for the whole of the following week, such a profound and inexplicable experience. In urging them to get out of the church quickly It was because I had expected the arrival of the gang of troublemakers at any moment, I had expected to meet them on the ramp as we ran from the church or to see them arrive as we waited at the bus stop while we waited for our bus, but I never saw them at all. So that part of the premonition did not come true. The girl in the dress and other people present were exactly the same people I had seen in my dream, from the moment I realised that I was actually watching events that I had dreamed of then for a minute or so before we ran out I was able to anticipate what they were going to do next, so that part was all true, no hallucination no imagination all true. In the following days I was expecting at any time to hear via local gossip of of a disturbance or incident happening at the church after we got on the bus, I never did. In Gateshead where I lived and grew up at that time, we had a local paper, The Gateshead Post which came out once a week on Fridays so in the following week I waited to buy the paper and fully expecting to find in there a report or small mention of a disturbance or of anti social behaviour at St John's church on Low Fell but there was nothing at all. I fully stand by what I saw and experienced in the church hall, I absolutely expect that there will be many skeptics and can understand that but for me, following on the death of my grandfather and the experience which followed that, I was in the early stages at the age of eighteen of realising that all is not so simple on this earth we all share as it appears to be. There are invisible boundaries all around us and boundaries between time as well as physical life and spiritual existence which can and do get crossed from one side to the other. After this incident in the church I went about my life in the same way as everyone else, growing up and as an adult experiencing joy hope pain regrets hope and anger, this took me to 1994 / 1995 when I had another life questioning experience at the age of about 48. Just for fun I shall call it, Fortune lost
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So I’m just going to put this out there. The Netflix series “OA” looks as if it has been following our stories, conversations and blogs here on UM. Particularly mine. I know I can seem crazy sometimes, but the whole series has way to many points that parallel blogs and events in my life that I have shared here and the odd way that spiritual beings seem to work. Even the images are strikingly similar to things I have described.
If somone hasn’t been using my blogs as source material, it is one hell of a coincidence. The end of the first season blew me away. I won’t give it away, but if you have followed my blogs over the years, then you would see why.
By he way. If you are a writer and doing this, I’m totaly cool with it.
It’s a hard one for me, because on one hand it looks like a writer has been using my experiences as source material and, if not, well... I take unusually syncronsitic events a little... a lot more seriously than most people. It wouldn’t be the first time all these things start lining up through media, so it means I need to pay attention.
Yes, Yes I know. I don’t need a lesson in how the human mind can create stories out of nothing... oddly enough that’s what the series is about as well. It’s as if somone has even been watching previous conversations and arguments I have had here.
Either that or I’m bat poop crazy.
The great thing is that I have been recording my experiences here for years. All it takes is some reading then watching the series and somone should be able to start to see what I am seeing.
What a wacky universe we live in.
Many of you might wonder what Krav Maga is that I practise?. the martial art system was developed by Imi Lichtenfeld (former boxer and wrestler) who made use of his martial art skills to defend the Jewis quarter against fascist groups in Bratisalva during the second world war. following his migration to Israel in the late 1940s he started to provide lessons on combat training for the Israel military Defense Forces which was later developed into Krav Maga. The orginal concept was to take the most effective simpel and practical techniques of other fighting systems to make them rapidly teachable to military conscripts to make them in relativly short time battle ready. the system derived from a combination of techniques taken from Boxing, Wrestling, Akido, Judo and Karate etc and is know for its for its focus on real-world situations and extreme efficiency. It was secret until 1968 and became popular among most Special Forces and Armies and Police forces across the world which later became taught by some martial art gyms. Students learn simultaneous defensive and offensive maneuvers and to defend against all variety of attacks on the ground in tight spaces, in darkness, with several attackers and are taught (most importantly) to avoid physical confrontation If this is impossible or unsafe, it promotes finishing a fight as quickly and aggressively as possible and to get away from the situation, Attacks are aimed at the most vulnerable parts of the body and there is no rules in Krav Maga.
What makes it fun to practice KM is all the boxing and the various techniques plus the friendship you get and that everyone strives to make each other better. got this question once how do you spar?. do you beat the crap out of each other? like you usually see in movies?.When you spar you dont hit your opponent with full force, you stop your punch just before it lands otherwise boxers wouldn´t learn anything and they would not be able to go matches.you spar for the following reasons you want to improve each others skills and to have fun, you want to do your best to ("win") yes but at the same time you have to adapt to your opponents level and still make it hard for him if you feel you constantly have the advantage, its all about giving and taking. I also got this question once: when you spar dont you ever get angry when hit? No an angry fighter is a bad fighter, i do get frustrated and angry at myself sometimes when i do simple mistakes or get too tired to spar properly, stay focused stay on your game. Do you recommend km to eveyone ? I recommed it to everyone if you haven´t tried it you should give it a go! !Dont you have to be extremely fit?. It´s not bad to resonably fit if you´re not you will get in shape in no time plus have fun.
Do you have any good self defense tips?: Yes! firstly Join your local KM club or boxing, thai boxing club. Secondly: when your out in town avoid looking at your mobile phone, look up instead and walk like you owned the place. If you do get attacked do everything you can to get away from the sutiation defend yourself scream and be as agressive as you can and never give up!!!. If someone starts to pick on you in lets say a bar, simply go to another bar with your mates dont stick around, if the person starts to get threatening and you feel the situation is getting out of hand scream as loud as you can .BACK OFF!!, STOP!! this is what the law enforcement do and it will attract peoples attention if he then attacks you, you have a given him a warning and a good reason to defend yourself which will not be in his favour in court. And remember the first rule of Krav Maga avoid physical confrontation at all cost, never put yourself in a dangerous situation, stay out of trouble!!!.
The inclination is great when you first experience something you deem to be paranormal to take it all as having meaning, as being truth, and then packing in every single view or bit of input that supports it into the same file. I do understand. I have been fascinated with the paranormal and astral realms for decades. The appeal, the obsession, is real. It is my life work and passion, so I understand.
But, you do yourself no good, no gain, and no profit in hoarding information without discrimination. The end result is to be one of many who have a ton of things they can talk about and a whole lot of illogical conclusions and conflicts in it all. In other words, they do not have anything much to show for it. You MUST weed out everything. If you accidently toss something true, it will comeback, don't worry about that.
I had to determine what to focus on, what was not a waste of time or red herring. Here are the rules I developed finally when the piles of stuff got to be too much:
1. It has to serve a purpose. Late one night, family all asleep, I was writing in my office and suddenly started hearing clicks right behind me, which increased. I turned around sharply - the house was silent - and just stared to see CAT KIBBLE of all damn things, appearing in id air and pouring out onto the wood floor. About a cup full in all, hitting the flooring and scattering from the impact. This phenomenon is called an apport. I have seen a few. It stopped as the last of the kibble hit the floor, and after a bemused moment my old dog got up and sniffed at it and then started eating it. I kind of absorbed it and thought for a moment on it, then shrugged and went back to my writing. Cat food apporting in serves zero purpose, is ridiculous in fact, and I am not going to waste time on it or give it the faintest bit of energy.
2. It has to be positive. The dream I had which foreshadowed my Father's failing health and impending death was not a happy experience, but, it was positive in result. It warned me and allowed me to mentally prepare and be a lot less surprised when the call came that sent me driving through the might to his side before he passed over. I cannot, for the life of me, understand the numbers of posters who claim terrible, scary events and then do not want to hear how to be rid of it. I figure they either lie in the first case, exaggerate and know it is imagination going on for them, or fall into the common silliness that this might be the ONLY paranormal thing that will ever bother with them again so they want to keep it around. Surround yourself in positive things, and you will draw more of the same. Hanging out with something negative like this is like not throwing out the trash because it once was something useful to you.
3. It needs to make sense. Kind of like my cat food anecdote above, which made zero sense at all - we didn't even have a cat at the time - an experience needs to make sense. I do not mean to the level of science and skeptical demands, but taken as a whole and in context, it does need to make sense. I was maybe about seven years old and got dragged to a night service at the Base Chapel when I was not really feeling like going anywhere. I sat on the end of a row and looked out through the (clear) windows at the darkness and Quonset huts out there used still for some base housing and my mind was wandering as the sermon went on. Suddenly, to my astonishment, I saw a bride, long flowing gown, walking slowly forward with a smile on her face and love in her eyes. She was so happy and seemed to emanate love to my amazement, I took it for a reflection in the glass from the small chapel, the angles were right and looked back into the chapel to see her, but, there was no bride there. I glanced around and nobody else was looking out the window at the bride. I looked back outside and nothing was there anymore. It was a while before I started to think about some "hauntings" as being recordings that can somehow be triggered to play for people who see them. I saw the recording of her wedding for a moment is all, and like to think her love did that and I hope her life was great.
A lot of people like to approach the paranormal as either positive or negative, of God or the Devil. I see it as sort of neutral parts of reality or else manifestations of a mind, most commonly the one who experiences them. My seeing that bride was a neutral thing already there, I believe. I just happened to somehow push the "play" button for it and see it. A memory for me, perhaps, but, I had nothing to do with it. Neutral things can be recordings like that, of intensely emotional moments. Bad, tragic, really happy events cane do this more easily. If there was a theory about recordings, perhaps it would claim that everything that has ever happened is recorded somehow. I know recordings are real, but, I don't know if everything is recorded. Probably, it is, if some moments are. Makes sense, I guess.
There is another aspect of neutral reality, which is where that stupid cat food deal fits into for me. I was writing an article on nothing paranormal, cats nowhere on my mind. It happened, I had nothing to do with it, but someone or something did. I live by the theory that there are a lot of energies out there who want attention and they sometimes act out around people who are open to them, hoping for attention. I am open, but the beings I deal with know my rules and terms well. I am not at all amused or interested in neat-o gee whiz tripe. If they have something to tell me they do so pretty directly. I am very fierce about anything doing weird things anywhere at all around my family. My lady is an old hand with me and my ways but my child I want free to come to her own conclusions. If she asks, I explain, but, nothing at all is allowed to go bump in the night for her. I blame the cat food on some "thing" who detected my openness and did it to get my attention or weird me out or maybe get me to try to sort out how to ask it to bring me gold coins next time or some such silliness. It got the boot instead. I am not interested.
This category of "thing" or energy looking for someone to attend to it is where a whole lot of the reports we get on the forum fall into. Weird events happen, they make no sense, serve no purpose, and typically are not positive in results. The inexperienced will latch onto them and consider it to be an achievement and really cool, and I hate to say it but this stuff and class of "energy" never amounts to anything in the end but nothing at best or a low energy attachment at worst. "Things" do not go out looking for boring little humans like us unless they need something off us and this is never anything we do not need more ourselves. Wisdom is to not even waste time on them. File the event away, yes. My cat food tale has amused many since it happened and is truly strange, but it has zero cosmic value in the larger, real picture. In other words, it is meaningless. Most reports are, and if they occurred at all should land in a diary somewhere and be forgotten unless they make some sense later.
Now, manifestations of a mind are something else. This is where it can cross the line into mental health issues, and I do not mean schizophrenia. It is reckless trolling and ignorance to see people posting "you are crazy" or "you need mental health intervention" to some of these posters. The depressed mind, the traumatized mind, extreme grief or stress or age related dementia, people suffering from PTSD or merely suicidal depression can experience visions, beings, disturbed sleep/disorders and the very last, most cruel and shallow response is to laugh, mock and tell them they are insane. This reveals ignorance that should stay off that post if they do not know for sure what is going on. Demons are terrible and real and dangerous, and there are manifestations of lesser order as well. In my experience, most of them are creations from a very wounded mind and need positive help and positively worded information and direction to psychiatric support. "Demons" often manifest in later stages when there is little hope or self image left and to be brutal can push them deeper into despair or even to suicide. If they are asking for help, or if it is you reading this who thinks you have one, there is room to reassure and explain about how the mind fights back and tries to express from the subconscious mind what it perceives and begs for help. Help is there. This is not insanity. If you are asking and looking for answers, you are not crazy. The truly insane have bought into it as reality and won't be asking. This is one of the most agonizing and terrifying experiences to go through as there is no safe place anymore, and no escape until someone goes in and helps the victim start to rebuild walls and self esteem and a safe place to stand and see what is happening so they can see how to help themselves clean house and fix what broke.
It has been said that God never gives us more than we can handle. There is some truth to that even if it is not The Creator who does this trash to us, really. We do it, others do it to us because we don't realize or we allow it, life does it, and anyone can fall into a hole deep enough to suffer some of this sort of thing, if only in passing and if only during a bad phase in life they got over. Not everyone can do it alone and Compassion is always the right answer and move away if it is not you who knows how to help. Do not feed it further in bad ways.
To get back on track, I want to tell you that discernment, throwing out the tripe and waste experiences is wisest. Reject these odd events and intrusions on your life, reality and space, such as ghost footsteps upstairs and shadow people flitting about or stuff being tossed around soon as it begins. While it may open your mind to the possibility that there is more out there, beyond that, if it serves no purpose, makes no sense, and serves no positive purpose in results, reject it. If it is an energy roaming about, it will have to move on if you insist that it does and mean it. It is a back handed compliment, really, as they bother folks who have a bit of light to feed off of. Write it in your diary, and move on and allow life to reveal later if there was anything more to it. Life is challenging enough without carrying these parasites around on top of it.
I get accused of being a sceptic often because the truth is most things can be debunked and need to be. I support that not because I do not believe in it, but because I do believe and I know the real deal is real enough and powerful enough to make certain you cannot ignore it if it wants to. It makes sense when it does (though it might take a while to fully appreciate that), it serves a purpose and teaches you a lot, and it is positive in results. It will not be trying to scare you or terrorize your children.
All of this can be boiled down into a really brief point. If it is not GOOD, just say no. Literally, just look up at your version of cat kibble falling from nowhere and shake your head and ignore it. Go back to living and doing what you were before.
You have free will. Use it.
I write to serve.
Whatching my boys today, I can’t help but start thinking about parenting as I start this process of optimization. Out of everything that I want to get right in this world, It’s being a father. They really are my world, yet at the same time, I know I have to make my own world to be true to me too if I’m going to be my best for them.
I never put them in day care. My wife works full time, and owning the school, I didn’t work until the evening. When my first was born, I was the ripe old age of 27. I strapped the kid to my back, learned how to change diapers on the go, blend baby food, manage blow outs, and sleep when he slept.
My wife has a busy corporate career, so he even came with me to the dojo. People all around town, that didn’t already know me, started to identify me as the young guy that took his baby everywhere. I was fine with this. I was young, strong, and I had such a clear focus. I knew kids that were close with their parents grew up more emotionally stable and intelligent, so I did what it took not to have someone else nurturing him.
It worked. Now he is a bright, intelligent, and compassionate beautiful 13 year old. Sorry ladies no sexism intended, but sometimes behind his back, I call him my girl because he is so sweet and compassionate. We really are very close, and he is a big time dady’s boy.
Then came another, and a few years latter another. This is where I mark the beginnings of a few of my own personal struggles. I had to drop out of being on the US sport jiujitsu team. The training, the school, two babies at that time were just too much. I compensated by my long solo trips into the wilderness and meditation, but really my pace was taking to much out of me. I just couldn’t see it. I really felt that I was the master of my universe and nothing could stop me.
Anyway... I didn’t want this entry to be a history lesson, but I did it with all three of my boys. I kept them with me. Learning from me, training in martial arts, and we were obsorbing each other. I’m very close to all three of them, and sometimes it breaks my heart just because they are growing and each phase is impermenant.
Of course, at the same time all of that was happening, I was going through deep psycho spiritual episodes. I have another blog here that I was writing during some of that. Looking back, I wonder if it were to much. Maybe I should have asked for help.
Anyway, going forward now, I’m wondering how to maintain this role I have taken on in their lives. They are starting to do more and more on their own, but when I choose a new careeer, am I going to have to be like normal dads? Like my wife? She dosnt get home till 7pm. When I was teaching I wasn’t home myself in the evening, but they were actually with me a lot of the time. Leaving the dojo behind has disrupted how we all live. We will still be training twice a week, but I can’t help but worry where this is headed.
I don’t just want our short time on this earth in this capacity to be “normal.” I have been fortunate enough to give them an amazing and adventurous child hood so far. How do I continue? How do I make it better?
Now that they are older, they bicker more, I snap at them more, and things are not as pure as when they were little. Me and my middle child butt heads all the time. He is a great kid, but along with the freedom I give them, there are some very strict rules about respect and behavior. He wants to challenge me on those, and I don’t always respond in the way I think my higher self wants me to. How do I reel in my reactions? How do I keep the vision I have for them remembering not just a childhood, but a grand experience growing up? How do I work on myself during all this?
My mind mills and churns over it so much, I have actually had to start listening to audio books and podcasts with my blue tooth headset simply to drown out my own inner voice. My inner voice simply won’t shut up. I can quiet it during meditation, but the only thing that helps when I’m going about my day is to drown it in information and learning.
Optimizing parenthood may be one of the most challenging things I have ever attempted. I have faced down cage fighters, large wild animals, a few abusive psychos, and even stood my ground against what people would call demons and devils, but screwing this up scares the hell out me.
Thanks for reading.
So I recently joined a writing site that wasn’t associated in any way with some of the things I’ve had published. I thought that I would post stories on there that I would consider to be my seconds. They’re not quite polished or are stories that didn’t quite fit what I wanted to submit.
I have two stories in to set up kind of what I would like to do. Put stuf out there that isn’t quite my best but was still fun too write. I will soon post the url so people can go scope them out. Stay tuned for those who wanna check it out.
I have been gone since may 11 of either this year or last, I do not remember. I still have no ways of making normal posts and on top of that most of my old activity posts have disappeared. I feel like they don't want me talking even after accepting that I agreed to not make long like update or activity posts. But even after that I am unable to make posts and interact with everyone. I still do not understand what was so wrong about me making long activity posts so I did not have to mess with blog stuff, but it will never make since why it has become a petty party of making me unable to post plus not being allowed to share the link to another account seems a little idiotic as well. Everyone does not just sit here on this site 24/7 we have to be able to share where else we are for people to network and connect. But it is fine, I am not a moderator, I did not decide these stupid rules. Just here wanting to reconnect, but not allowed too.
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Hi, to anyone that may read this. My mom passed away in June. There have been strange things happening since just before her bday on Nov 3. I thought I've been crazy and not thinking right. But tonight something happened that I can not explain. Please help me.