STUART WILDE REQUIEM

 

“See you again soon, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Stu & Shé at the Milton Castle

They were the last words I said to him. Sure, it had been years, but we both meant to catch up soon. If it were important, we would drop each other a message. I have been going through some of our emails to each other today. In the beginning, his were brief and mine were long. However, as time passed, that reversed. Eventually the topic of one of our emails became one of his most controversial articles and then he included me as  “The Lady She-She-La-La” in one of his books. (God’s Gladiators) Sometimes it was hard to get a message through to him. There were layers of protection around him. He liked being one step removed and a little inaccessible. Yet, if it was important it reached him no matter how convoluted the trail. Like when be had been flagged by immigration to be refused entry to Australia. It would have isolated him from his son and his home. (The castle at Milton.) How did I know this was about to happen to him? An ex of mine had grown jealous of my friendship with Stuie. Tony boasted that he had flagged Stuart and because I gave him the heads up, Stuie was able to get it sorted before he returned to Aus. Stuie sent me a simple reply to that piece of information – “Thank you so much – I know you love me. You’re such a decent bird.”

Jealousy is such a waste. Stuie was jealous of me when we went out. "Stop flirting with everyone." he would complain. In my mind I wasn't. I was just being friendly and approachable. As usual, he was right. Many have misinterpreted my inverted snobbery as a sign of sexual attraction. Contrary to what I believed about myself, Stuie thought that I was arrogant. He called me his fallen angel Shé Shé. I knew my training put me streets ahead of many of the so-called spiritual crowd that hung around him. Stuart loved to pick my brains about my techniques and Asian training and then would give me a hard time for sharing too easily. He was a contradiction and a challenge. He always made me feel I had to prove myself. It was a competition that he always won. In front of his class, he derided me once. "She' you can do all this stuff and you have all of these qualifications, do you know how boring that is and how repelled people can be by that?” A slap in the ego but it made me strive harder.

He was good at keeping me knocked down a peg or two. I might have skills but he was Stuart Wilde and I should never forget it. Nevertheless, every now and then it reversed on him. 
"I bet you haven’t even heard of TOEism?” he asked me once. I paused for a moment and stared at him in disbelief. Surly he was joking. The existence of Taoism is common spiritual knowledge. “Thought so. My A-list wizards have read all about it and you have never heard of it.”

“Er…Well, actually, I am Taoist trained but I have never heard it pronounced that way before. My Tibetan teacher called the study of the way: “Dow.” Well, at least that’s how it sounded when she said it. However, if your asking me about any spiritual practice involving toes then, nope! Never heard of it!”

Another time, “Shé I have traveled all around the would hundreds of times... Where have you been and where have you taught?”

“The US, China, New Zealand and South Africa." He was surprised. He had not been to China but he was born in South Africa.

We had many little things like that in common. I didn't speak of such things till he challenged me. I think he like that I didn’t back down to him and was always willing to give his challenges a go. Yet, no matter how well I did with his challenges, he always had a reply that put me in my place.

“Shé you can't speak with authority on business until you have been successful in business for yourself." He was surprised that I had been a QLD businesswoman of he year. His reply to my parrying of his challenge made me feel as inferior as discussing business with my successful father... "Well..." he replied... " When. Your second business makes its second million you will have credibility with my friends.” Oh, Stuart had a way of making people feel special but with replies like this it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have any really close friends. He always kept everyone at arms length. Very few of his lovers ever really knew him. By his friends, he meant his “rich uncles,” the group that would fly him around the world to be the entertaining celebrity author at their soirees. He knew I had wealthy lovers who did the same for me because my beauty and enthusiasm made them feel special.

Stuie had a great sense of humor when it suited him. When it didn't, the do not disturb sign went up. “Already disturbed so don't disturb any more.” I would joke with him. I don’t know how we remained friends despite ourselves. Sure there were moments when he needed me. “Stay with me before I go on stage. I need you to calm me down. Give me healing. Kiss me and push some healing energy into me.” I knew I was useful to him and that in an obscure way he needed me, yet, he never let me need him in return. It was his way of protecting himself from abandonment and keeping me strong. If I played needy or wanted affection in public his reply was always the same: “Stop it Shé. You are stronger than that. People are going to need you and you will need to be able to stand alone. I won’t bend over backwards for you and you will never bend over backwards for anyone. They should fall at your feet, but I won’t.”

The first time he said that to me I countered: “Can't two warriors give each other comfort between battles?”

“We will, but tomorrow you will be alone again and you must learn to stand alone.”

Therefore, the next day I balanced on the battlements of the Milton castle 50 feet above the ground and walked alone right around them all. As I past his bedroom window where he was sleeping with another woman.... I laughed as I past – did a bend back and stood up again. He saw me and froze, thinking it was a suicide attempt. The look on his face made me laugh so hard that I nearly did fall. I wasn't broken hearted. It was what I expected. Yes, I was walking all alone, but, like Scaramouch, I got the cosmic comedy of life.

Stuie was funny but I laughed at life more than he. He only saw me really up set with him once. He didn’t like it and hid. He sent two emissaries to my beautiful hidden valley retreat to see if I was still upset with him. When I admitted I was I didn't hear from him in a long time. Then out of the blue be left beautiful voice messages on my answering service inviting me to dinner in Byron. He was very charming. There was a defenseless side to him like an abandoned little boy. We shared that early experience of childhood abandonment as well. We were two small children sheltering in each other’s arms when we were together. We were friends first who shared the experiences of our wounds left by other lovers, our fantasies, and what we aspired to in partners. We did not want to hurt each other. We knew we would if we developed expectations about each other. We even found ways of getting others to fulfill each other’s fantasies and sexual proclivities. I introduced him to several unique characters. Another game and another challenge.

When he needed me, he would contact me, sometimes through others and sometimes incognito, revealing his true identity at the last moment. He loved games. He hated anything that was boring or ordinary. One of our first dates was to a shooting range. He asked me about Ayahuasca and I put him in contact with Darpan. About security, I put him in contact with my SAS friends; he wanted meditation techniques, magick spells, and safety tips. Nevertheless, he respected me enough to not publish my work. He warned me which publishers to avoid and where to advertise. Like a sarcastic older brother, he was protective of me, guided me and he chided me into keeping my feet on the ground.

He was an excellent writer. Intimidatingly so. He had a way of making the reader feel like they knew him. His books feel as though they are written personally to the reader from an old friend. He liked to ask others what they thought of his work. That was all fine unless they didn't like it. Then he could get angry or aggressive and very insecure. He liked having people around him but resented them in his personal space. He did not accept differing opinions easily. We disagreed occasionally. Mostly on the use of psychoactives in spiritual development. He was pro, I anti. I felt they made students lazy as all states of altered consciousness can be achieved through disciplined meditating techniques. Stuart just liked them and he felt them to be the fast track. He ignored the dangers. They aged him prematurely. He remains the only man to ever pressure me into taking a substance against my will. His doctor/girlfriend “supplied medical grade stuff.” He felt that ecstasy would reopen my heart chakra after my years of abuse. He was right it did. It also opened me to depression, till I found the antidote. I used hypericum to restore my balance as Stuie used me to restore his.

I was reminiscing about him with the Nacson bothers on the weekend at the Mind Body and Spirit festival in Sydney. I had first met them at Stuart’s home in Milton. I had heard about Stuart’s death in late May, but I would not have put it past him to stage his own death in order to make a grand entrance at his own wake. Robert had confirmed it on the weekend. It was real. He was really gone. I had sent Stuie several messages whilst I was in Singapore in April. I felt he needed me and I had tried to urgently contact him on the first of May but there had not been a reply. I was busy so I didn’t pursue it. When I heard the news, I understood why. I felt I had let him down. I left it too long to see him again. I knew his heart was bad. It was becoming more difficult for him to achieve an erection. He was aging rapidly, as vegans often do. There was so much about the post 2012 world that he did not want to face. I knew that was when my main work would start and his finish..... But.....

How do you finish unfinished conversations and ideas not yet exchanged? He has left me hanging again. This restless regret will prod me into finishing what we started via playful internet exchanges twelve years earlier. It was all about things we planned in Italy in 1475. He teased me about how excited I was to discover portraits that looked like me by DaVinci and Botticelli. Then our past-life selves remembered the meetings in the philosophical salons of Milan. Salons hosted by my former self, Cecilia Gallerani, where he, a young bright eye member of the Borgia family, first heard dangerous ideas. Our souls were young then, ready to change the world and we did, and have done many times since. Now his soul was tired so it passed on.

The last time I saw him, he lay in my arms in a motel room in Byron Bay. We started to joke and felt really close again. Looking forward in time, as I often do, I saw the potential pain in our relationship if we stayed together. “How do you want this to end?” I half joked.

Coming from the left, he said, "In the arms of a gorgeous strawberry-blonde looking out to the sea from high on an Irish mountain top." (He got this wish in the end but I am glad it wasn’t me)

"Oh." I sad sadly. He had understood my intent with my question and had deliberately misanswered me. Therefore, I got up to put my clothes on.

"Where are you going? Come back to bed. Why are you always running away from me?"

I didn't get back into bed. I leaned over and planted one more passionate kiss on his beautiful full lips. "Home." I replied. "Its an hour’s drive." I went to leave but he had preempted me and had dead bolted the door. He had the key in his pants pocket. His pants lay scrumpled on the floor. We both sprang on them at the same time. We wrestled around this way and that, laughing and tugging the legs of his designer jeans in opposite directions. He was very strong but I was very quick. I got the keys and opened the door. It was so late it was early. We had lost track of time again. I turned back to him threw the keys to him and looked deep into his blue eyes. His expression held me in a tighter grip than our play fighting. There was his hurt little boy wanting me to stay and hold him until late in the morning. I smiled my love and care to him and tried to hide my fear that was causing me to flee again.

His reply, a simple slow blink and nod. I stepped through the door. “See you again soon, yeah?” he asked after me.

"Yeah!" I exclaimed as I firmly closed the door and stepped out into the cold, dark night all alone.

FAST - Apple Pie - Magic

TalismanSaber 15th Jul 2013 US Vet Vince Emanuele speaks to troop...

This is happening NOW and we are having a Media Blockade about it here in Australia -WHY??

Bali Blessings

Bali Blessings

Down the stairs the smell of garbage filled the air. The girls in the market at Ubod begged and grabbed at her. She felt pity but was vaguely annoyed. They stood in front of her "Prease buy. Vely cheap. Bling you good ruck and bressings." The magician looked a the rainbows coloured piles of junk. She fixed the gaze of the most persistent vendor who had hold of her by the wrist and would not let go. "No. You need the blessings not me." The magician placed her index finger on the 3rd eye of the peddler and pushed in a small bubble of energy. The markets girl's eyes rolled back into her head. She staggered sideways. The shouts of the peddles stopped and the lowest level of the market went silent. When she opened her eyes a few seconds later, she smiled and lowered her trinkets and walked contentedly away, a sweet floral smell wafting around her as she went. The sellers looked at each other for a moment then the market erupted with the girls in the market begging and grabbing at the magician. "Bress me. Give me good ruck too."

The giant stepped in between, as the magician shaking her head, retreated back up the stairs and into the car.

Unfortunately, there are those who will always want more than they have. To them paradise will always smell like garbage and seeing the blessings of one will make others greedily forget that they can give blessings, even when they have been reminded by seeing it with their own eyes.

Announcing The First Pagan Sovereign State!

Brendan Meyers sent us this bit of humour 8 years ago when we were trying to set up something NEW with Shambhallah and we were getting a lot of flack from a few members of the Pagan Community.... Well looks like we have achieved a lot of this and are closer to accomplishing this than we ever believed was possible -

Announcing The First Pagan Sovereign State!

Author: Brendan Cathbad Myers

Posted: July 24th. 2005

It is my pleasure to announce the founding of the first fully Pagan sovereign nation in the modern era. A lot of people might be wondering, how did it all get started? Well, a few enterprising Pagans read in the news that there is a Christian Fundamentalist group that wants to get as many Christians as possible to settle in the state of South Carolina and eventually declare the state an independent Christian theocracy, devolved from the rest of America. This got us thinking, we can do the same! A few months before that, at the death of John Paul II and the inauguration of Benedict XIV, we got to thinking, wouldn't it be cool to have our own Vatican City, somewhere in the world? It's been tried before, and never successfully, but our attempt has something no previous attempt at herding Pagans into one mould-I mean uniting them in harmony-has had. People are showing up! Huge crowds are converging on our sovereign territory, a farmer's field in Greenland, every day. And it can only get better from here.

Our new state started slowly. At first, only a few Pagans even showed up.

Many stayed at home to gripe about how the proclaimed new Pagan state didn't consult them, or doesn't have any real authority. They said to themselves, "Who are they to rule over all Pagans? What gave them the right to tell me what to believe?" Of course, these are the Pagans of the Ancient and Venerable Begrudgery Tradition. We sent them invitations, of course, so they wouldn't feel left out-but we gave them the wrong time and place. Our pollsters determined, however, that most of the naysayers to our state said nay because they felt slighted for not having been asked to become the leaders of the state. You know the kind of Pagan we mean: he's the one who hates all forms of religious and spiritual authority but is secretly willing to accept the creation of a Pagan Catholic Church just so long as he Himself gets to be Pagan Pope.

So who did show up to the proclamation of the Pagan state? Most of them were American refuges from the "Democrat" tribe, fleeing the reign of George Bush II. But a few came from the "Republican" tribe; they kept muttering something about not wanting the new state to tax them. Yet they came from all over the world, from every walk of life, from every Pagan tradition and community. The crowd was so large we had to count it with both hands.

There was, of course, a small troupe of the members of the Druid School down the road who set up their own Pagan State in opposition to ours, just a hundred yards away. Their leader, a self-proclaimed enlightened elder, encouraged his followers to play their drums as loud as possible to disrupt the founding of our state.

Putting together a nation and a government is not like putting together a Wiccan coven, a Heathen tribe, nor a summer camping festival, nor an umbrella service organisation like the Pagan Federation or the Covenant of the Goddess. Large amounts of money, material resources, labour power, and military power has to be mustered. We had to get the backing of wealthy people: bankers, industrialists, entrepreneurs, had be secured, which is not an easy thing to do. Most of them have no need for spells to make money, because they've already got their money. So Paganism doesn't offer them much they don't already have. But we managed to convince a few progressive-minded wealthy people to bankroll our cause in a different way.

We told them  we had the secret of turning lead into gold, and once we struck our blow for freedom, we would make our Pagan state a banking haven. Little do they know we plan to turn lead into gold the old fashioned way: clubbing them with a lead pipe and then stealing their gold. Anyone reading these words is asked not to leak the secret, or else the jig will be up on us, and we'll have to raise money by reading tarot cards again.

Our fledgling state still needs leaders who can make decisions about economic planning, criminal justice, national defense, labour allocation, foreign relations, and the like. But so far all we have are Pagans who made themselves famous (in the Pagan community, that is) for their ability as spell casters, workshop presenters, and ritual performers. It was, after all, the best we could do on such short notice. (Pagan Standard Time being what it is, after all). The ritual for the Opening of Parliament was absolutely lovely, everyone agreed, but the next day, when Parliament was in session, no one brought forth any bills to debate. No one had thought that far ahead.

However, we in the Inner Circle (I mean the Provisional Cabinet) have not been idle. We've recently agreed to put forward a good long list of new laws and executive orders. Starting with the armed forces. Now the White Light Pagans complained that the very existence of the army was contrary to the Goddess' wishes, since the Wiccan Rede clearly says "Harm None." And isn't it the job of the soldier to harm people? On the other hand, no other nation in the world would take us seriously without an army. So we reached a workable compromise. We would still have an army, but it would not have any guns. Instead, it will have soap-bubble rings. Our soldiers will march into battle blowing bubbles of peace and love. The United Nations Security Council recently asked us to send our Bubble Battalion to join international peacekeeping forces stationed in a high school in Arkansas.

Actually, unbeknownst to the White Light contingent, we have secretly created a 'special forces' unit. We're recruiting them from the SCA, and arming them with swords, pikes, spears, knives, and axes, and the artillery units will operate catapults and trebuchets. We also have a unit of Celtic warriors, recruited from the Celtic Reconstructionist tribes. Their heroic spirit, their courage and bravery, will be both admired and feared all over the world. Their first mission will be to see if they can find any trace of the Bubble Battalion, who we haven't heard from in over two weeks.

We have been busy on the home front too. In primary school education, for instance, we have decided that the myth of the burning times should be a standard item on the curriculum. Every child of ten years old will have a solid backing in the work of Gimbutas and Margaret Murray. We don't really care if the myth is true or not-it will give our graduates a reason to think themselves lucky. For history classes we'll get them to watch The Wicker Man in grade eight and Robin of Sherwood in grade eleven. At our colleges and universities we will have departments of divination and magic right alongside departments of physics, economics, and engineering. Graduates from the Ph.D programme at Lady Raven Moonspider School will now be able to up shop next to Ph.D graduates from Oxford, Harvard, and the Sorbonne.

Students at the National Pagan University will have a morning of lectures on classical Greek philosophy and literature, followed by an afternoon of experimenting with telepathy. Surely our progressive system of education will be the envy of the world.

What about health care? Our new state has the whitest of white Witches in all hospital emergency wards, both accredited third-degree Witches and fam-trad hedge Witches, to cleanse the charkas of car accident victims and to purify the aura of leukemia sufferers. Surgeons, nurses, and paramedics will have to be Reiki masters and we'll revoke their license to practice if they refuse. This, of course, is borne from the experience of Pagan culture before the foundation of our state. I remember fondly at a Pagan festival a few years back, never mind where it was, where a woman fell unconscious with heat exhaustion. Immediately a small crowd of Witches surrounded the patient and started chanting and placed little coloured stones on the patient's body. Meanwhile, the festival's unofficial nurse, who had been trained as a combat medic by the Canadian army, had to fight his way through this gaggle of well-meaning idiots to reach the patient and give her the treatment she really needed. This was, of course, after searching his tent for the equipment he required-another well meaning lunatic ransacked it for bandages and penicillin, without asking him first. Scenes like this in the accident and emergency wards of the National Pagan Health service will be a daily event.

And what about housing? The National Pagan Housing Authority reported in its year-end review that it has not built a single house, in part due to protesters rallying against the use of the word 'authority' in the agency's name, and in part due to legislation preventing infrastructure development within one hundred and fifty meters of a tree. Naturally we're not happy about this dark spot in our government's performance, but the money was used to buy some nice canvas tents which have been set up in the capital city's Bealtaine fairgrounds. The four newly naturalized immigrants this year (up 50% from last year) are presently being sheltered in them.

Some people have been asking whether our Pagan state is a democracy.

Most of the ancient Pagan societies in history which we looked at for inspiration, and which some of us regard as our direct forebears and predecessors, including the Celts, Norse, and Greeks of Europe, and the Egyptians and other societies of the ancient near-East, to the pre-"civilisation" societies of aboriginal people, were not democracies. They were tribal societies or chiefdom societies, or they were kingdoms, even empires. And many Pagan organizations and societies of today are not democracies either, but rather are run by their founders as benevolent and enlightened (one hopes!) dictatorships. This is true of small groups like covens and ceremonial lodges and also true of larger groups: British druid orders, fellowships for Egyptian goddesses, a few Wiccan lineage traditions, and a few 'democratic' groups that really are monarchies in disguise because they keep re-electing the same people. Well, we've decided to merge the best elements of modern parliamentary democracy with the age-old, time-tested system of absolute monarchy that our ancient forebears believed in. Yes, the spiritual and political head of our state shall be a King, or a Queen, depending on which way he swings. But to keep our king honest and just, to put in place a fair system of "checks and balances" (as our refugees from America keep demanding), we're going to insist that our elected king rules for only seven years, after which time he is killed. That way, if you want to be the king, you have to really, really want it. This system of government used to be called "the sacred king." We think that other countries will soon see the wisdom of this system, and will follow suit.

The Inner Circle and I have just finished drafting the new Constitution.

We just agreed that the document will indeed be called a Constitution, and have resolved not to use words like 'he' or 'she' in case anyone feels excluded. We were stalled for quite some time by the Radical Tree-Hugger Party  who wanted the constitution to outlaw fossil-fuel engines, electricity, and steel foundries. Their persuasive party pod-people pontificated passionately about the need to return to our ancient roots, and do things as the ancients did things. But it rained on the day we planned to vote on it, and all the pod people ended up in hospital with pneumonia (and the best energy-healers in the world are even now smudging them with sweetgrass that was blessed by a Real Live Indian.) Meanwhile the Fair Weather Pagan Party, whose members stay indoors on rainy days, were told the vote would take place in a rented Unitarian Universalist church. So they showed up to vote in greater numbers, and managed to turn the tables at the eleventh hour.

Our economic planners have thought long and hard about the skills and resources available in our community, so that we can put them to best use in the dynamic global market of today. We decided that our state will put the lion's share of its economic development budget into the entertainment industry. After all, so many Pagans are also such excellent showmen, whether they know it or not. So the shenanigans that we get up to at our camps and festivals will be turned into fodder for soap opera writers. We're also going to focus on the fashion and design industry. A survey of the merchant's areas of most festivals showed us that most of what was on sale was what the British call 'bling:' that is, fancy clothing, rings, bracelets, armlets, necklaces, anklets, earrings, tiaras, window hangings, leather medicine pouches, and all kinds of other crap. We'll be able to sell a few of them for ridiculously inflated prices by adding little notes about how it was consecrated by a Witch to attract love and money to its possessor. There will be a few fools in the world who will buy them, but we'll try to reserve them for the export market in case the fools who want to buy them are mostly our own citizens.

Our government leaders, however, will have much better fashion designers. They will not bother with robes sewn from curtains and flappy Birkinstock sandals. They will wear proper business suits. The men will have snazzy silk ties and the women will have the super-sexy platform-heel boots that all women of power are wearing these days. We have certain appearances to keep up, after all! For no one will take our state seriously if our leaders dress like flower children (if there's anybody watching).

And speaking of the entertainment industry, here's how we will attract tourists from abroad. Some of you might remember a venerable institution from the ancient world called the Temple of Ishtar. The idea was that young adolescent women would go to this temple around the time they become sexually fertile. There they would stay as handmaidens to the temple until a man came to, well, share with them the communion of the Goddess. Then they would be free to rejoin the community. We are planning to rebuild this temple. Think of the revenue it will generate, especially when our marketing campaigns extol the virtues of the young, free-spirited, sex-positive and stunningly beautiful Pagan woman!

All in all, we are planning great things for our Pagan state. We'll grant licences to perform marriages and funerals to just about anyone. And all kinds of marriages will be legal here: straight, gay, polyamourous, and so on-and the list might get larger still, depending on the lobbying power of the animal rights movement. We'll legalise marijuana, which we think will cut down on domestic crime rates as well. After all, when you are stoned the last thing you want is conflict. We'll legalise public nudity. We'll make Samhain and Bealtaine national holidays and make them a whole week long. We'll put a horseshoe over the arch of every door for good luck. And most important of all, we'll standardize that long list of elemental correspondences. Our state will be a shining beacon of liberal freedom, where anyone and everyone will have the right to live any way they want, and believe whatever they want. We hope you will join us, and raise our flag over your homes and magic circles as a sign of your solidarity.

Solidarity!

The Inner Circle of the Sovereign Pagan State.

You Want The Truth? - -- - Can YOU Handle the Truth???

Do you think you could handle the real facts about the world that you live in?

Would you feel so unsafe that you would tell me that I am crazy?

It might feel like you have to change so many things that you just couldn’t do it – but you can.. You can live in the burbs and become free - a fringe dweller in the city. Don’t be apathetic about what is happening around you. Don’t be scared into inaction or overwhelmed into disinterest. You have the power to change these things, but you have to be aware of what to change. These truths affect you now and affect your children’s future.

Socrates, 500 years BC taught that the key to freedom was asking the right questions. Questions stimulate thought, debate and discussion, from which solutions will arise. It is not about being a sophist or a skeptic whose religion is to believe nothing. It is the ability to say, “Hang on this doesn’t add up. This doesn’t make sense.”

The propaganda merchants have made us believe that if we ask “Why not?” that the same thing will happen to us that happened to Kennedy. But your assassins are not on a grassy knoll. They lay in wait in your ignorance and inaction. They shoot at you in your own home from the TV.

The Truth About Television

We spend so much money on these addictive toys. But they are so much more than that. They hypnotically flash at 25 cycles per second against an electronic impulse of 80 cycles per second. This harmonic pattern of vibrations is what makes you sleepy when you drive or take a train. Like a skilled hypnotist it lulls you into a wakeful trance and opens you to you receptive best. Why? Not to programme us to be all that we can be. Rather TV instils paralysing fear through cops and robbers’ shows, hate and disaster consciousness through the news that ignores the good and great human achievement. TV showcases desires, greed, debit and consumerism to keep you enslaved to the banks. Sex is obsessed and downgraded into lust, perversion and fetish rather than the most empowering magick available to every individual. Feelings of inadequacy are played upon so strongly that millions of man-hours and endless energy are wasted at gyms rather than encouraging you to use your energy to pursue things that will give you back your freedom.  If all of the energy from gym equipment was channelled into generating electricity we could run our cities on free power. Instead human life force energy is pointlessly expended and wasted.

So it is not surprising that governments defend our right to have TV in remote areas. Does this make sense? Ask yourself why is the government more interested in providing a national broadband network than a better health care system or improved literacy?

The Truth about Social Media

The promotion of social media should be termed “anti-social media.” It has just been school holidays but the children in my street did not go out to play and interact. They stayed inside watching TV, Facebooking or playing video games. Young couples go on dates but they do not talk. They take their smart phones and spend the time texting and tweeting as they are eating.

This puts me in mind of the Loa Tzu maxim in The Tao chapter 80, on how to control society via making the people content to remain in seclusion and stay at home: -

"Let nations grow smaller and smaller and people fewer and fewer.

Let labour saving devices abound but never get used as the people are provided with everything;

Let the people fear death such that they do not go far from home;

Although there are boats and carriages, there are no places to ride them.

Weapons have they and armour too, but they are hidden and not used.

The people should have no use for any form of writing more complicated than knotted ropes.

Let them be concerned with good food and beautiful clothes; with their homes being beautiful yet uneventful and with customs that do not offend others.

They may be so close that they can hear the barking dogs and the crowing cocks in neighbours lands yet never go there; and folks grow old and will die and never once meet."

It seems ‘the powers that be’ have found a way to achieve this by twisting the internet away from being our best chance of uncensored freedom into social control via social media and government controlled broadband.

The Truth About The National Broadband Network

Added to that, it must be remembered that the internet, from its inception, was a National Security Network tool. Permission was granted for it to be utilized by universities so that governments could track radicals in these hot beds of human thought. When its use became popular ‘the powers that be’ lost control of this tool to control the masses. For one brief instance we have enjoyed freedom of speech as the Internet became privatised. However, Twitter is about to be sued for being an uncensored neutral tool for freedom of expression. How can the governments regain control of something like twitter that was used to remove a government in Egypt and Syria? Easy, if they make it a government-controlled server agsin, undercutting the private servers, then things that are unapproved will be speedily removed.

The Truth About The “Problem - Reaction - Solution” Scenario

They want to take away our ability to “See - Question - Think and say No!” They want to substitute it with the oldest form of population control by propaganda, the “Problem - Reaction - Solution” scenario. It means that when a crisis occurs the public reacts by saying “something should be done about this,” to which the government provides a solution. This process should be called: “The artificially created problem – Media dictated reaction – Forced into one forgone conclusion.”

Example: Problem A: “9/11 and the Weapons of Mass Destruction.” Reaction - huge media coverage to promote feelings of being unsafe from terrorists resulting in a public out cry to “Protect us.” ” Solution - “War against Terrorism,” which really means new laws, which equate to huge losses of individual rights. Most governments can now legally detain you without reason and without access to any legal council for as long as they want. True result: The government got what it wanted but the public didn’t.

Another example: Problem B: “School shootings against ever younger and more defenceless targets” Reaction -  “A huge media coverage to promote feelings of being unsafe from guns.” Solution – Gun controls, that really means public disarmament and the loss of our right to defend ourselves. True result: The government got what it wants but the public didn’t.

Remember that there is more than one solution to any problem. Alternatives have been offered.

Alternative Solution to Problem A:

People have long called for their country to not meddle in the politics of nations that do not affect them thus not making their people targets of reprisals.

Alternative Solution to Problem B: The NRA has offered to put an armed guard in every US school, as the government won’t do it.

These are only 2 simple logical alternatives that have been offered yet how much media has been given to these or other viable options? Enough for the public to make an informed decision? Or is the media hypnotising the unthinking into believing there is only one solution? And how good will this one solution really be for you? I am sure that you could think of better ones for yourself.

The Truth About What is Good for Us?

What if most of the things we have been brain washed into thinking are good for us are, in reality, bad for us?

Cosmetics

What if cosmetics and the chemicals that we are told to slew on our skin really aged it faster in order for them to sell you more cosmetics? And what if all of those skin care chemicals made your skin far more susceptible to skin-cancer?

It is reasonable to think that these kind of subtle marketing campaigns exist where you pay for the problem and the solution. Especially when you consider the fact that most of the cosmetic companies are owed by the big pharma companies that have cancer treatments to sell.

Cancer

What if they have known the answer to cancer since 1951, but that we have not been told as big pharma is making billions of dollars out of both the research and the end treatment stages? What if it had been found that cancer performs a positive function in the human body? What if it is supposed to wrap up destructive viruses and toxins and await its own destruction by an enzyme that should be present in our diet but that has been depleted within all modern processed foods? Why are they taking our right away to have the last say on our own medical treatment? In ancient societies it was only slaves who were not allowed to decide their own fate. Have we become a nation of slaves? We need to demand the right to make our own informed health decisions.

Vitamins

What if mega dosing on vitamins is promoted by big pharma, as they now own most of the vitamin companies? Ask yourself, “If they are doing that, what is their real agenda?” as in the past their methods of marketing have been very insidious. What really is in the supplements that you take and are they really good for you? What about mineral supplements? Why aren’t they promoted? Why are they passing laws to prevent us treating simple ailments with proven effective and simple herbal treatments we can grow in our own garden? We have to demand our rights for the freedom to take care of ourselves.

Immunisation

What if immunisation, like the cervical cancer vaccine, which has just been forced on to millions of teenage women and men, is in reality designed to give cancer later in life? What if it is more about the control of the ageing population than hopes of longevity for our children? We have to demand the right to make these decisions for our children.

Preservatives

What if the most encouraged and legislated preservative in modern foods – sulphur dioxide - in everything from breakfast cereals to wine – was a vasodilator known to cause strokes and heart attacks? What if it is being put into our food for the same reason, to help eliminate an ageing population? How would you feel if I told you our governments are seeding clouds with it to try to make it rain even though we have had the wettest season on record in years? We have to demand the plain disclosure of real poisons in our foods and in our environment.

Would you feel helpless, powerless if all of this is true?

The Most Powerful Word

What if I told you that you could do something about it?

All you have to do is to start saying the most powerful word in the universe.

NO!

We have a choice. We always have a choice.

We have to demand the reinstatement of all of these rights that we have lost. This is the system that we have co-created with our passivity and apathy. We have been so distracted by our life styles that we have been hoping some one else would do something about it. But it is up to you. We can make a better system if we start demanding that it be so.

The Truth About a Better System

What if someone was to tell you this is the only system that we have?

Then we say “No! Not good enough we want a better one.”

How about the implementation of a yearly referendum of 100 questions on plain English, (not written in legalese) simply stated with a simple yes or no response box that our presiding government must be bound by penalties to enact. Questions that will give us a clear majority decision on things that concern us.

REFERENDUM EXAMPLE SNAPSHOT

Should we implement the published carbon credit scheme? - Yes or No

Should we utilize nuclear power in Australia? – Yes or No

Should we lower water rates in time of surplus? – Yes or No

If our water is privatised and sold should the ratepayers who paid increased rates to facilitate the infrastructure become shareholders and receive shares of the profits? – Yes or Now!

Should we lower petrol tax? – Yes or No

If yes - What should we cut from our roads budget to do this?

1.     Assign able-bodied recipients of unemployment benefits road-gang time each fortnight? Yes or No

2.     Increase the tax payable by private road toll companies? Yes or No

3.     Should we stop sticking up bloody stupid and very expensive road signs whilst our government is crying poor? - Yes or No

How would we make a system like this work?

Simply!

There should be a time each year where anybody and everybody can submit potential questions for the referendum and each year the top 100 questions are included on the referendum. If you don’t want to do the referendum, don’t do it. If there are questions on the referendum that you don’t want to answer or that do not matter to you then don’t answer them. That way it is only the individuals who are really concerned about issues, and can be bothered putting in the effort, which will get to have a say about it.

What do you think? Much better much simpler and it could help us to reduce the number of politicians that we are paying a wage to as well! We don’t need anyone who is not working for us and we definitely don’t need elected officials who decide off their own bat to work against us and then incur huge national debit by going against platform policies.

The Truth About Global Warming

Are you going to keep allowing them to invent things like global warming to increase your taxes - when we can all see that we have globally had the successive coldest winters on record for the last 5 years? They said the carbon tax was not going to make a difference yet it has closed may industries, slowed the mining and private home energy bills are sent to rise by 32%. That is a huge difference. And now that carbon credits are being devalued overseas to nothing and our government has valued them so highly they are predicting a huge 12 billion dollar deficit in the next budget. They changed their policies that they were voted in on. They said there would be no carbon credits. Now that it has fallen on its backside, why should we have to pay for it? They have not done it against our will; why not make them personally liable for the debit rather than trying to extort more money out of us? Why not make them pay? Why not give the deficit back to each of them to pay off? Why not let them become the slaves to national debit, instead of them walking away scott free whilst trying to burden us with it?

The Truth About Food and Water

What if the same things are happening with your food and your water? What if the governments are trying to control and price hike your most basic essential needs? Even though there has been mass flooding and dams are full to bursting, water rates everywhere are raising. So install rainwater tanks.

It is a simple thing, if you have solar installed, to additionally install power-storing batteries and take yourself off the grid. Voting with your feet and becoming power self-sufficient is the best solution.

You can grow your own food and collect your own water on the smallest housing block. Even if you live in a unit you can, collect rainwater and grow edible plants in house plant pots. To remain free, keep a stock of food in your house that will last at least 2 weeks. It is far too easy for supermarkets to close as they did during the Queensland floods.

Even your own sewerage can be diverted into a domestic biogas tank that will provide you with freedom from sewerage charges and provide you with a constantly renewing energy source too.

Be prepared and take personal control of your own essential services, food water and power. It is easy. Don’t be lazy and give control of these to others. If you do that, you are giving control of your life to others.

The Truth About The Refugee Crisis

If you are a business owner, are you going to passively allow the government to tell you that you have to pay more and more taxes to the point where it no longer makes sense to be a value producer and makes more sense to be a paid and controlled government slave. Why struggle with crushing business taxes, when the governments are taking enough off you each week to fund 3 people in public housing or newly landed refugees? If you give up and become part of the welfare system you loose your freedom to move. Everything becomes controlled.

Alternatively, what if the government allows individuals who want to open their own homes to refugees or welfarees, and take care of all of their personal expenses, thus effectively adopt them into their families then the rest of us do not have to be penalised and there is no need for inhuman detention centres. Then refugees can be allowed into the country at the rate to which people come forward to sponsor them.

The Truth About the Council Land Grab

What if the council wants to continue to raise your rates and electricity tariffs to the point where no one can afford these essential services any more? Pensioners, who have purchased a home for retirement, should not be forced out of that home simply because the land value around them rises. The cost of essential services has not gone up just the land value. This is the worst kind of criminal fraud and it means none of us own our own homes. What if land value was only dependent upon the purchase value and should not be increased until a family sells its home? Therefore if a home remains in the family for years the land value rates should not rise until that home is sold. Then legacy and inheritance can mean something again.

The Truth About Debit

Are you going to let them create debit for you that will force you out of your home? Are you going to let the rates debit build to the point where they can take your home from you for non-payment within 3 years?  The one thing that should never be able to be stolen, your home, can be take by an increase in council land value. Are you going to sit quietly and let that happen?

No! No! NO!

Debit enslaves. What if it is the agenda of the world banks to enslave nations using the above method on a national basis? What if wars are fought not over national assets like oil but over control of debit? Wars are expensive and they create huge debits that enslave both sides. For you to remain personally free all you have to do is remain debit free. When those advertisements appear on the television offering you everything you want now at a reasonable rate of interest remember that all interest rates rise. Remember all of the homeless after the recent debit crisis in the US. Just say no to debit to remain free.

Joining Our Voices to a Roar

2012 signalled the end of one lone voice crying in the wilderness. Now it is time for us to all speak together. Tell the media; use your social networking before it is too late! Say No! Loud, clear and together – take the power back for you won life today. In ancient Rome it was realised that the power of the government was with the people. To win power you had to please the people. It is time that ‘the powers that be’ realised that the people are not pleased and that they had better get back to the business of pleasing us again.

Copyright © Rev. Dr. S. D’Montford, Tuesday, April 30, 2013 Gold Coast Australia.

3440 words

I Hated Stephen King

I hated Stephen King with a passion. I hated him the second most that I have hated anybody in my whole life. I hated him almost as much as I hated my adoptive mother who beat me senseless every day I lived with her. She was four foot nine and a half inches tall, little and dark with a huge Hitler complex. She had been a beauty in her day but now I was 13, tall willowy and fair. I had the youth she longed to regain. She hated me for everything she wasn’t and her jealousy was vicious.

Yet the viciousness I experienced because of Stephen King was worse. It haunted me relentlessly everywhere I went. When I turned twelve, weird things had begun to happen around me. Things were going bump and bang inside walls near where I was sitting. Cupboard doors were opening and slamming. Lights and radios would turn on and off. Things were falling off shelves and disappearing. It happened most often after I had been teased at school. It seemed to target those who were picking on me by irritating them. This drew even more unwanted attention, and my school mates soon learned that if they could gee somebody else into bulling me they would get a great laugh out of the reactions that followed the victimizer around all afternoon, driving them nuts.

I tried not to attract attention. I had severe acne and combed my hair forward around my face and kept quietly away from others. I spent my lunchtimes in the school library researching what was happening to me in the .001 section. It was very hard for bullies to try to target anybody in there. Too much quiet and supervision. I loved the quiet and enjoyed the luxury of being left alone. It was there I began to understand that what I was experiencing was fairly typical poltergeist activity, common to teenage girls from religiously and sexually repressed families. Boy oh boy was my family ever that. My Jehovah’s witness nut job mother accused me of all sorts of sin and sexual perversion every day. things that I had not even heard of.  And then would molest me herself.

Poltergeist activity appeared to be a natural reaction to the pineal and pituitary glands being over stimulated by the upsurge in teenage hormones. Yet people did not want a natural explanation. They wanted to fear it and vilify it. Perhaps they fear what they feel they cannot protect themselves from. To me if felt like the denigration, especially the religious maligning, was just a basic cover up reaction for their personal jealousy, that there may exist in another an ability that they cannot access.

Some of the bullying was very serious. I was injured and many times hid it from my parents and teachers. The more serious ones I could not. Injuries to my legs, a torn knee were hard to hide and I was hospitalised for consequences of a collapsed lung that later gave me a propensity for pneumonia.

The more serious the bulling the more serious the reaction. My private Erines seem to dish out natural justice in proportion to the crimes against me. Erines were angry spirits in Greek myth that followed a guilty person around who had eluded justice harassing them ceaselessly until the gods felt that justice had been done. For instance far more than just wall rapping happened to a girl who slapped me up the side of the head, unprovoked and then ran in the other direction. Don’t get me wrong; I was not a passive victim. I hit back. The good thing about being hit and intimidated on a regular basis is that you learn how to hit and scare others. I never victimized others. In fact I was known for sticking up for the under dogs and those who could not defend themselves. I had a berserker persona I assumed when an attempt at group victimisation occurred. It kept the majority of tire kickers away from me. I would pretend to snap and scream and pick up the nearest thing and swing it around wildly. The shock of seeing this complete and scary transformation deterred many who thought it might be easy to pick on the quiet, skinny, weird girl in the corner.  Those that got knocked on their asses by me would mutter to the others, “Stay away from that crazy bitch. She’s nuts.” The good thing was that nothing else weird ever happened to the ones I hit back. However, this hit and run girl was too fast for me. As she fled a door flew open into her face and broke her nose. My classmates thought this was very funny. When they turned to try and find me I had already left. I wanted none of this.

Yet I was forced by governmental wisdom to return to school and each day I had to stand in line with the worst of human nature. To make matters worse a new horror novel about poltergeist activity around a teenage girl at school had just been released. It grew in popularity and soon was followed by a movie. I refused to read it. I have still not read, nor seen the movie to this day. It turned up in the bags of my classmates. They would read it in the breaks and whisper to each other and nod and point at me. I looked like Sissy Spaceck with bad acne. Fine features and pale pustuled skin stands out in a surfy town. My insane mother had dyed my naturally pale hair rich burgundy as a warning for others to “…stay away from the demonic child.”

My mother didn’t need to do that. Thanks to Stephen King they all just called me “Carrie” and waited to see what they could force to happen in the next chapter of this real-life unfolding horror story. I never went to my school dances or my school formal. Every time I missed one my classmates would tell me they had a bucket of pigs blood from one of their father’s butchers shop left over from the night before.

Don’t people who write horror think about the impact that these books can have on people who are going through similar circumstances to the characters they create. Often they research a real life situation and then use the process of suspension of disbelief to create a scary yarn that will earn them millions. A miss-trial can be declared if the judge feels “trial by media” has occurred. The news media may sell millions of papers via sensationalism but there are consequences for them but not for popular fiction writers. A miss-trial cannot be called in some ones life if popular media anchors something into the collective consciousness that makes a group of people a subject of loathing. Children die every year when subjected to exorcisms because they are exhibiting perfectly natural poltergeist activity. Today hundreds of children in Nigeria and Angola are declared witches and are being macheted or beaten to death because of this kind of popular fiction. Where are the consequences for this? A life is ruined yet people are entertained, books are sold and a million is made. Where is the justice?

After the birth of my first son, the poltergeist activity decreased yet my private Erines seemed to stay on the job meeting out their special brand of natural justice. Though I have not done anything against another consciously, not one person who has ever attempted to victimize me has escaped without consequences.

• My abusive mother was in a caravan in her front yard that was picked up and shaken around at night – she never victimized me again after that. She later developed anorexia and starved herself to death.
• My first husband went off to sleep with the wife of his quadriplegic business partner whilst I was giving birth to his son. When I confronted the other woman she laughed: “Oh well, you can’t blame him if he enjoys my company more than yours.” One week later she went face first through the windscreen of her car and my husband developed boils on his testicles.
• I was teaching hospitality at Newcastle Worker’s Club in 1989. I had been dating the head bouncer Bob. We split, by Bob’s choice. I started dating a beautiful sensitive man - a weightlifter and gym owner. One night he came to collect me after work. The bouncers beat him up and threw him out. He was too terrified to see me gain. The club collapsed in an earthquake two weeks after that an incident.
• A business partner who ripped me off for a magazine we started together was flooded and all of the stock of the magazine was destroyed, she went out of business.
• A star motorcyclist who wanted to increase my rent by ten times the amount agreed too in our lease, because he thought that I was earning too much money. He got arrested and publicly disgraced on another matter. He has had a run of bad luck ever since. 
• A former boyfriend who bashed me and hospitalized me so that he could steal content from my computer for a book we were writing together, and then attempted to destroy my computer so that he could claim full credit for the book, got caught misusing the privilege of his governmental office and had to flee Australia.

And so on…. Justice has always been served on my behalf, even though I have not pursued it.

Though I feel permanently marred by the experiences of my youth, I have learned to use the abilities that nature gave me for helping others. I see the future and give predictions that have saved lives. I help heal sickness and can restore a person’s soul to balance. I also write for many alternative magazines and have authored several books, a tarot deck and DVDs. I now live at peace with my abilities and have gained some positive recognition on TV as one of the top psychics in Australia demonstrating before skeptics that what we do is real.

Though I bare Stephen King no personal ill will and I acknowledge the many positive things he has written about people with my abilities like “Hearts in Atlanta” and “The Green Mile,” yet, at 51 years of age, Stephen King was seriously injured when he was struck by a minivan while walking near his home in North Lovell, Maine, at 4.30pm on Saturday 22 June 1999. A motorist approaching from behind lost control of his van when a dog in the vehicle distracted him. The car accident has left Stephen King with permanent disabilities including massive injuries to his legs and a collapsed lung that later gave him a propensity for pneumonia. I feel a deep sadness for him for this, as sometimes fact is far stranger than fiction.


© Copyright Rev. Dr. S. D’Montford  Thursday, September 22, 2011 Hamilton Island. Australia