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| Image created with AI (Grok on X) |
I thought about titling this one Clashing Golden Ages or Clashing Resets, but someone else has done a great service in explaining this phenomenon. I'll post that below. These last few days/weeks I've been battling exhaustion with work outside and at home, caring for family some days. There's less and less time for creative pursuits, although I have to feed and nurture the child inside every once in a while. That's one of the secrets to a long and fruitful life, something Jesus spoke of, and something that's undermined at every turn by the parasitic Establishment. The Friends of Jeffrey Epstein are hard at work lately, but it's only because those opposing them are gaining ground. Reviewing my playtime on Grok 3.0, reveals the best subtitle, The White Pill, not meant as racist of course. Black-pilled me has to make that abundantly clear.
One of the things this little blog has done is give me courage to acknowledge some truths and to verbalize the world as I see it, especially insights on real healthcare versus the sickcare model that poses as healthcare--not so well as it used to. COVID has forever torched that façade for millions if not more eventually, opening a schism that was meant to break our spirit, our will, and our organic humanity. For those who choose another way, it will be a catalyst for honest Hope and Change: Just acknowledging reality as it is, very simple things like men and women, xx and xy. Gender insanity aside, men posing as women in women's sports is so wrong and will surely set the Women's Movement back into the stone ages if humanity could survive that trend at all. We are dealing with a paradigm that supports liars, bullies, mass murder, and slavery, and it's pitted up against one that supports truth, life, love and freedom.
World events are pouring information into the news cycle at rapid pace again--notably yesterday with the public death of the Pope at age 88 on the same day Klaus Schwab (also age 88) steps down from the WEF, on the same day the Queen of England would have turned 99 if she were still alive. I don't think this was all by accident. Numbers are a kind of symbolic language that the subconscious understands; our material reality is measured in numbers. Secret societies and occult groups regard and utilize numbers to communicate and make their intentions known. Double numbers are thought to have power. There was a time I studied these things, practicing ritual magick. I've since renounced these practices as dangerous--even "White Magick", but I know the language of numbers is still very real to these secret societies that manipulate world events, the so-called positive ones and self-serving ones alike. So, when I heard the news yesterday, I was glad I hadn't started writing today's post. It provides opportunity to put out a fresh interpretation, and it's a simple one: Eight is the number of completion and renewal as is understood from the octave. Light and sound are divided up into sevens, like the days of the week. I think of the song that includes the words, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Nine is a number associated with certain completion.
It's speculative to go much further into the events of yesterday, but I know one side has its own interpretation, and I lump all these negative parts together because they do cooperate, somewhat, when it serves their interests, and these groups often overlap: The Deep State, the Communist/Marxists, the global establishment elitists, the Satanic dynasty families, and those they call “useful idiots”, lawless common people who worship pop culture, all of whom know their failing system needs a reboot. Their system and they themselves thrived in the shadows, but they no longer have the luxury of that shelter anymore. Humanity is at a crossroads where the choice is to level up or level down. Survival is dependent upon each individual acknowledging the reality of this clearly unveiled systemic evil, and one either gives it energy/authority or withdraws his or her energy, giving God/wholesome living back rightful authority, leading to life.
Two thousand years post Jesus or Yeshua the Christ, living, dying and resurrecting, we have a road map and a trifecta source of strength we can all tap into. There are communities that have coalesced in agreement with what needs to be done. At minimum we cannot coexist. Tables need overturning again: DOGE and declassified documents are both symbolic and material manifestations of that. More importantly, spiritual or energetic Powers and Principalities must be told no, that their reign is over. Although curiously armed thanks to the Second Amendment, the average American may not need even to physically fight those fully committed to evil because we have enough good people in positions of power now to defuse the need for this, and true evil will often fight itself to the death in desperation. However, this stage is taking some time, wearing the average person out, and testing our character. These "end times" themes were understood by at least one indigenous culture's prophets who foresaw the snake eating itself. I am delighted to see Christian influencers and groups embracing The Book of Enoch because it sheds enormous light on what is to come, and it is encouraging.
I have to break away from the eagle-eye view of things and zoom in on the micro/personal, something that happened today while I was at my mother's place. It's just as relevant and sacred, maybe even more so. Mom wanted to see if her stereo still worked. One of the speakers had come crashing down in one of the big earthquakes we had, but the other was still intact and connected. So, the unit played radio music when switched on. It has a record player, so we dug around, looking for her Beatles Sgt Pepper album. The spot that used to hold all kinds of records now has mostly photo albums and school yearbooks, but Mom was able to dig out one album I'd never seen before. It was an old Merv George album with my uncle playing drums. I almost cried as the I saw the record player actually still work. When I heard my long-dead Uncle Mike, gone nearly 50 years now from a drunk driving accident, play drums and sing back-up harmony, time stopped for a moment, and I had one of those episodes where I felt like a splinter of my soul, once lost was retrieved and fused back into its place. I imagine Mom felt a surge of life and powerful moment of holistic healing as we reminisced over her brother Mike. She noted that the lead singer has also recently passed, and I reflected on how my first husband played bass guitar with the group on occasion years ago. He also died tragically a few years after we divorced. Like broken china in my hand these memories in my heart glued together for a perfect moment of listening to music with Mom. These sacred moments--a new miracle baby coming into the world for us and honoring loved ones lost, mean more to me than gold right now, more restorative than all the bone broth and other supplements in my medicine closet.
I had done a great deal of praying the night before while I couldn't sleep, trying to rest and get insight into life in general. When 5:00AM came I decided to text my employer on vacation in another country, asking for the day off. The weekend had been spent doing work around the house, holiday preparation and cleanup with the Monday after off planned for recovery. I can always count on a migraine either on or after a holiday where there's some excitement, and we had some of that with the birth of a child. I could write an entire piece on that, but I really don't have permission to do so. While the migraines I have lately are nothing like they used to be--at least once a month three days of absolute misery, it is still a day of tolerating/treating a slowly creeping headache until I realize it's a migraine, another hour of pain while the right medicine kicks in, then the side effects of fatigue and body aches. An Epsom salt soak with CBD/THC tincture minimizes this but the entire process leaves me spent and hours wasted. Although I didn't sleep, I laid in bed the rest of the day, reading, reflecting, and listening to interviews, then all night tossing, turning and praying. It was fitful rest, a kind of work in itself. Today seemed like an answer to my prayers, finding areas I didn't even know needed tending to, for myself and for someone else. The day culminated with the time to put down my thoughts, a living prayer for a restored republic and true Golden Age for our planet, fitting for Earth Day, 2025.
