by whadmin
One Awful Racket
December 12, 2019 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest)
One awful racket
He knew he was just a simple fellow.
Not terribly bright. With a lot he really didn't understand.
So his prayers were very unpolished. Just what he honestly thought.
“Great Lord, or Great Spirit or Great Entity, how-ever I should address you…”
He paused, knowing in his heart that he meant no disrespect.
“I have such a strong sense that YOU are the Creator of the Universe.”
He admired that work immensely.
“And you know I really enjoy everything you have made.”
Yes, he did. Nature fascinated him. He could never get enough of it.
“And I thank you for the five senses you gave me. They are SO cool.”
He knew there were blind folk in the world. But he was grateful he could see. He thought of the millions of deaf, and was grateful he could hear. The lapping of the waves. And the cries of confused birds, who should have been asleep. Misled by the ship's many artificial suns, blazing in the normally dark mid-Ocean night.
“I find it amazing that you might be listening to my tiny, probing thoughts.”
He reflected on seven billion little folks, all praying like the clappers at once. What an awful racket. Then again, there were Atheists to be taken out. Materialists. Trendy swingers, busy with more important stuff, sex, partying & making money, with no time for silly superstition.
Annnnnd… all those folks sensibly asleep, he reflected, ruefully. It being way past midnight.
“I do hope you aren't fed up with my constant badgering. I'm just super curious. How come you put up with all the nastiness? People mock you something fierce… “
There was a long pause. He was lying stretched out on his back, on the torpedo-shaped airbag that constituted one of his chopper's floats.
He liked that question, and he asked it a lot.
He paused again, for a long time. His prayers were never terribly slick, or fluent. But he didn't care.
In his mind he roamed the stars. And thought of the tremendous distances. He thought of Time, which he knew was not a straight-line constant. He thought of the concept of 'eons' and geological time scales, that baffled his mind. And he found himself giggling quietly.
There was something absurdly comical about little players, 'strutting and fretting their hour upon the stage'. Posing for the cameras, all ah-huffing and ah-puffing. Making themselves out to be wise, supreme, and indispensable. Oh, and brilliant, of course.
Even with the tiny little he thought HE knew… he suspected they, the 'world leaders', knew even less. In the one area that really mattered.
“You are a very patient Creator, Lord”, he mused.
“In fact, I'd say there is an awesome element about how you wait for the appointed moment.”
A seagull screeched indignation. Or maybe disappointment. One of his buddies replied. The ship rocked, very gently.
An unmistakable satellite appeared above the horizon. Drawing its blazing path. With no light pollution, the night sky here was spectacular.
He was silent, at last.
With one overwhelming sense.
Awe.
by whadmin
On Out-of-body Experiences
December 11, 2019 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest), My Search for God and Meaning
On Out-of-body-experiences
and
‘Dual-togetherness’
(posted in GAB group, ‘The Great Cosmic Kindness’) (12-11-2019)
Some interesting insights & comments were made, (thank you) and this subject cropped up. I’m no authority or anything like that, but when I was younger, for me, it was an almost fairly ‘commonplace’ experience.
Inevitably, it was peaceful. Very gentle, if you like.
I’m at ease sharing it all. Any researcher who might be interested, is more than welcome to share this little scribble, if it is of interest.
One occasion was so very vivid, that even all these decades later, I kind of chuckle when I remember it.
I was about six. My next door neighbor’s family had six children, and I was friends with one was the same age as me. I was in some sense an only child, although I had two brothers. One was eight years older than me, and away at boarding school. The other was twelve years old, and took no interest in me. My parents fought, not physically, but verbally. The stress in the home was off-the-charts. It was an unhappy marriage, and we found out (six decades later) that basically my father had not only had a war-time fling, but had fathered two more boys out of wedlock. (Aged in between my two older brothers) And then pretty well abandoned them. My mother, a devout Roman Catholic, had stayed with him not out of overflowing love, but (I suspect) primarily, a sense of duty to her marriage vows. Something you will probably not find much today anymore. I paint this picture as background theme, and I suspect it may be relevant. So you can imagine a childhood where I spent too much time playing alone, thinking too much for my age, and listening to the background noises of angry -raised- voices, squabbling.
On this particular day, my friends had been taken in for meal time, and I had been left alone outside, in their back garden. I was trying to look in at them through the window. I was feeling, most probably, lonely. The sun was bothering me, and reflecting off the glass. I had my hand up, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun.
And suddenly…. I was standing twelve feet or so to the right, quietly observing. That little fellow. All serious, eyes squinted up, trying to look in through the window, where his little friends were having a meal. Now the Observer was not clinical. On the contrary, he was quite sympathetic. Softhearted, if you like. His observation did not disturb the little boy. But somehow, I knew -at that precise moment- that the Observer was me. A much older version of me. ‘Me-The little boy’ took no notice of ‘Me-the Observer’, and didn’t turn his head to look.
‘Me- the Observer’ seemed to understand what was going on there, in the manner of a sympathetic adult. ‘Me-the Little Boy’ was aware of the observation taking place, but was, at the same time, more interested in his little friends.
That odd kind of ‘Dual-togetherness’ lasted for a while, I could not say how long. It wasn’t freaky, or disturbing, or upsetting, in the slightest.
On the contrary, I look back upon it with a gentle smile.
It raises of course, some interesting questions.
1) The whole theme of ‘Time’ features here, and many would say that Time is not a straight-line constant. You can get into Science and Physics here, for sure. You can also refer to Oriental Wisdom literature, and religious thinking.
My own take is that we should be suitably cautious when we think we little humans understand ‘anything’, and that includes ‘Time’. One wonders about ‘second sight’, ‘self awareness’, and the Buddhist concepts. It leaves me with a greater sense of me-small. Me-not-know-much. Me-talk-too-much. Bow the head.
Respect the Universe.
2) What understanding lies within our grasp, if only we could open our minds? Is there a Great Cosmic Kindness?
In our little group on GAB, I wrote this in the introduction:
Question: Is ‘Kindness’ only within the mind? Or an external Presence, in the Cosmos? A benevolent Presence, that surrounds us. Or a figment of our imagination. Is it the unconscious cry for help, from a small, drowning, timid creature stuck on a rock, in the middle of the dark, cold, uncaring Universe?
I believe it to be a fundamental question in our time. I fear, for sure, we are headed for civilizational catastrophe. Wars. That’s another subject, indeed, another GAB group, but in this context, I suggest that one possible PART of the cure is a revival of something important, even crucial, that only grows when watered. Only flourishes, when loved.
I suspect (no, I know) we need to be armed today, and fit, able to fight, with both conventional military arms AND a much stronger ‘spirituality’. A much greater sense of humility, and gentleness.
Matched with pride in our race, a determination to exist, and a refusal to back up in the face of a sustained assault to destroy almost overnight, what has been built up over centuries.
But I digress.
At university, I went through a period of intense reading. A lot of thinking. A groping for understanding. Trying to work something out. I was not detached from the real world. I learned to skydive, and fly. I drove motorcycles like a madman. I encountered wo-man.
I also pondered violence. Wars. I puzzled at what was happening around me.
The troubles in Northern Ireland…
And again. The out-of-body experiences. Many.
I would be lying in my bed in a small flat in Dublin. And the Kind Observer -me- would awake, and look down upon the sleeping figure. And wonder when I was going to wake up. For there were things to be done. Books to be read. Thoughts… to be explored.
But no, there he is, out for the count. Dude…!
Sometimes the Kind Observer would float up, perfectly naturally, and hang about a while in the upper corner of the room. Taking in the table, the books, the notes, the untidy mess. From this upper vantage point.
All perfectly natural, smooth, un-frightening.
I could even see the dust curls on top of the tall cupboard, and a peculiar wooden batten, what seemed nailed down at an unusual angle. I saw it all, quite clearly.
One day, after such an experience, on an impulse, I drew up a chair. Climbed up on it, to take a look. Sure enough. Those dust curls. And that really oddly placed wooden batten.
The element of ‘frightening’ did make an entry, however, later in life.
That area is a puzzle, which makes me frown even today. For I don’t even begin to understand it. I’m missing something.
What happened was that I eventually went into business, and for some years, I was very successful. I bought and flew several airplanes, including a high performance aerobatic biplane aircraft. Known as a Christen Eagle. I competed with it, flew some air shows. But mostly, I just flew the hell out of it. Lots and lots of hard aerobatics.
I had already logged several hundred hours on it, when I started getting recurrent ‘waking dreams’. In essence, I saw myself trapped in the aircraft, crashed, burning, on fire, unable to get out. Terrified. These were ‘dreams’ that continued from a sleep state into a wakening state. Meaning you wake up, but you can’t shake it off. It’s there, it’s happening around you, it’s real, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You see YOU. You feel your screaming emotions.
Not nice. I must have had it dozens and dozens of times.
Eventually, I sold the aircraft. Not because of the dreams. I didn’t want to sell it, but the cost of fuel was killing me (UK prices). So it was more an economic decision.
I had tears in my eyes as it disappeared over the horizon, with a ferry pilot at the controls.
Within months, the new owner was dead. Killed in a fiery crash. Air Traffic Control vectored me in to the reported crash site. I was flying a helicopter, as instructor, with a student on board. We landed beside the terrible wreck.
All I could do was stare in dumbfounded amazement.
Within a few month after that, the ferry pilot I mentioned above was killed also. In an aerobatic plane crash. I found out about it by coincidentally calling his wife on the phone, and jovially asking to speak to the old varmint. She burst into tears… And told me he was dead. Another fiery crash.
What was it that I had seen, or sensed, in my strange, waking dreams? I will never know for sure.
The bottom line of all this is, that I am a much more mellow sort of fellow these days.
I have an open mind on much, that I do not profess to understand.
I have said it many times: I suspect we know nothing. And we will learn nothing, until we see ourselves for what we are. Small, limited, finite creatures. Here but for a split second.
Specks of dust in a Universe of galaxies. A whisper in the wind.
And yet, I sense, that we are deeply loved.
I express these simple thoughts in many places, and I refer the reader who has made it all the way down here (Bravo!) to many of the other scribbles…
Francis Meyrick
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on December 11, 2019, 11:02 am
by whadmin
On Parasitic Marxism
November 16, 2019 in Short Stories
On Parasitic Marxism
There is a huge, ongoing problem with regards to the parasitic invasion of Marxism (overt, or prettily dressed up & disguised) into movements that nominally or fundamentally espouse Patriotic, Ethnic Nationalism.
A true Patriot is proud of his unique culture, and zealously protective of the defined boundaries of his ancient ancestral homelands.
The Marxist on the other hand seeks to blur & mock those unique cultures and boundaries, as a prelude to doing away with them entirely.
Marxism is fundamentally incompatible with our aims to honor and cherish individual Liberty, and safeguard the independent Nation States. Yet we see their undermining, parasitic influence at work all the time, hijacking noble causes, and even -outrageously- laying claim to the words and deeds of long dead founding patriots.
(Which patriots, incidentally, if they could speak, would furiously demur).
Why is this parasitism?
In part, because of the weakness of Patriots, who fail to recognize the snake.
In part, because Marxism is a glue trap for trendy, lightweight fools, who don't want to take the time & trouble to do the research. Study. In a few simple answers, they have their one-size-fits-all world view. And now, our comrades are built up to a sense of Narcissistic grandeur, able to go forth, unaware of their puppet status of (expendable) 'useful idiots'.
Patriots, beware.
by whadmin
The Problem of Christian Inferiority in relation to Jews
November 15, 2019 in Short Story (spiritual quest)
@TheGreatGoose wrote this on GAB:
(quote)
“THE PROBLEM OF CHRISTIAN INFERIORITY IN RELATION TO THE JEWS
Even when I was a little kid in Catholic grade school and I first learned that Jews were known as “God's Chosen People,” I knew there was something deeply wrong about the concept. Why would God choose one group of people over any other group if he created all of them? It made absolutely no sense to me. To make matters even more confusing to my young mind, I noticed that my definitely non-Jewish and presumably Catholic teachers presented this information about Jewish superiority over all others without raising the least bit of an objection to it. It was just taken for granted that Jews truly had this special status in the world. Christians–at least of the Catholic variety–were totally complicit in bowing down to Jewish Supremacy.
By my early teenage years–due to a distinct preference for rational, scientific thinking over what I saw as the blind faith and mysticism of religious ideation–I became an atheist. That position only reinforced the absurdity of the concept of Jewish Supremacy.
Now, many years into my adulthood and still quite comfortable with my atheistic stance, I find myself feeling sorry for the majority of Christians who have never been able to escape what I can only call The Prison of Jewish Subjugation. Since Christians are obligated to accept the Old Testament as well as the new one, they likewise seem obligated to accept their inferior status to Jews just as, for example, Prince Harry must accept his inferior status to Prince William when it comes to inheriting the British throne, for whatever that may be worth these days. Those who come second or later will simply never have the status of those who come first. “First come, first served,” as the saying goes.
All of this begs the question of why almost all modern Christians accept their second-class status in relation to Jews. Is it because Christianity itself teaches them to be humble and self-effacing if not even self-negating? Where is the payoff in this position? Because let's face it, all but the truly insane expect some kind of payoff at some point in time. Are the critics of Christianity correct when they say that Christians are just naive fools who are waiting for some “Pie in The Sky” that will never really come? Are they promising you a theoretical next world so they can steal this one–which we know is real–from you?
If you are so intoxicated with the idea of “Heaven” that you don't believe this life really matters, there is very little I can do to help you–just as no one can help an alcoholic who won't stop drinking. On the other hand, if you have doubts about the reality of an afterlife or even if you're a believer who still thinks what happens on Earth is critically important, I would ask you to think hard about completely cutting any bonds that tie you to Jews because, as a race, they have become completely corrupted by this world and they surely do not have your interests at heart”.
(unquote)
(I waited for a while, but no, nobody seemed to want to seriously get stuck in there.
So…..)
@TheGreatGoose
That's an excellent post, and the issue is framed in a most lucid fashion. I waited for a while to see if there were any serious takers. Naaaaahhh….. and we both know why. Sore spot. People prefer to enjoy their warm & soothing bath…..and soak leisurely, dwelling within their comfy -saved- & holy bubble. With the little rain-bows curling prettily around about them… And there's you, Goose, coldly stating the pain of pesky facts, and offering free pins. Raising the specter of doubts, heresy, and introspection.
Hell, I'll bite.
I 100% agree with you, the Talmudic Mafia has done nothing-zip-nada to deserve any 'special status', never mind a privileged one, relegating the rest of us to “second class status in relation to the Jews”. In fact, f**k, no. Quite the opposite.
1) Even a cursory glance at their role in the Bolshevik revolution, which they financed, instigated, and LED, shows they are Masters of Genocide. 65 MILLION.
2) Their machinations extended WW1 needlessly for two terrible, bloody years.
3) Their raw evil in conspiring to cause Britain to needlessly remain in WW2 (ignoring Hitler's repeated Peace offers), and provoking FDR (surrounded by Jewish advisers) to conspire against the manifest will of the American people, and drag America into WW2…
4) their constant plundering of America's wealth
whilst
5) somewhat paradoxically, OPENLY undermining, weakening, and debasing the spiritual & moral life of their host nation, reveals them as smug, conceited, vicious, blood obsessed parasites. Reveling in decay they themselves cause, fund, and orchestrate.
Ah, you say. We know all that. But what of the many, many Christians who cannot, will not see that? Who still meekly swallow (and pay for) the warm, soporific, Schindler's bullsh*t, Holohoax pap? Who say they have been to Auschwitz, and SEEN it all 'for themselves'. (More pap, more swallowing the carefully laid on Great Shekel Shakedown)
I submit, a scarred wanderer, having traveled and worked around the world, (now proud to call America my home), that Americans are some of the kindest, most hospitable, generous, trusting, wonderful people you could ever hope to meet.
At the same time, they are also some of the dumbest, over-trusting, naive, sons-of-b*tches, who persistently make the same mistakes.
A) they automatically attribute values they cherish (Liberty, trust, tolerance, empathy, neighborliness) to ALL COMERS. That's a humongous mistake right there. The simple fact that so many of these invaders HATE America (often openly) is too hard to grasp. There must be “a mistake”. Allow them in, and allow them to stay long enough, and they'll change. “They'll become like us”.
Cobblers, America.
B) They totally underestimate the utter viciousness of the Battered d*ck Brigade. Who cynically (in-your-face, Bud) and OPENLY control the Joo-stream Media, and the 'official narrative.'
C) They listen to too many batty, or corrupt & demonic preachers.
I believe that “this life really, really, really matters”. To fix your gaze on “heaven”, wait passively for the Second Coming, with your loved ones, and avert your eyes from what's going on down here? That's bullsh*t. We were given a brain, and empathy, for a REASON. Use it! Fight the good fight!
I build guns. My sniping skills need to advance out to 1,000 yards, 1 MOA. Working on it. If things really go pear shaped, I for one won't be playing. I wasn't playing before.
At the same time, I say my prayers. Daily. Sometimes hourly. We know very, very little. My simple stories “The match stick” and “The Machine in the Desert” have ZERO literary merit. But they symbolize an 'attitude' or knowing that I know very little.
(see www.cosmicdrifter.com)
I agree with you, in your final paragraph. An excellent summary. I'll repeat it here:
If you are so intoxicated with the idea of “Heaven” that you don't believe this life really matters, there is very little I can do to help you–just as no one can help an alcoholic who won't stop drinking. On the other hand, if you have doubts about the reality of an afterlife or even if you're a believer who still thinks what happens on Earth is critically important, I would ask you to think hard about completely cutting any bonds that tie you to Jews because, as a race, they have become completely corrupted by this world and they surely do not have your interests at heart”.
Return to Index? (CosmicDrifter.COM)?
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 15, 2019, 3:40 pm
by whadmin
The Machine in the Desert
November 15, 2019 in Short Story (spiritual quest)
The Machine in the Desert
Simple Simon deep down knew
that he thought a bit askew
many were the folk who said
that he rumbled in his head.
But Simple Moggy following through
launched upon the Quest anew
because he longed – with puny might
to one day walk full in the Light.
I'd been walking through the desert for what seemed an awful long time.
Days, weeks, even years.
It had been hot during the days, astonishingly cold at night, barren, often lonely, and yet, at the same time, fascinating.
The fascinating part was the Quest. The searching. The pondering of a Great Unknown, that I, (admittedly a Simple Bear), strongly felt… was calling me. To seek out Answers. To cross over the next horizon. Again, and again. Patiently, stubbornly, trudging ever onward.
Well, one day, to my surprise, I came across this HUGE thing, in the desert. I couldn't really describe it properly. You might think it was a machine, with pistons and valves, camshafts and bearings, flowing oil and sizzling steam. Except it was much, much more complicated than that. I started to walk around it, and soon realized it would take me days. It was THAT big. It was also tall. It stretched all the way up to the sky. Every so often I'd come across groups of people, huddled together, discussing how the Thing worked. Or was supposed to work.
They never took any notice of someone as simple as me, so I would just quietly listen in for a while.
A few things then started to register with me.
Firstly, they were always convinced that the tiny part of the machine they were bent over, and studying & arguing about, was THE most important part. In other words, if you didn't understand THAT infinitesimal part utterly and implicitly, well, you were seriously failing. Doomed, even. But why, I wondered? With a machine-thing that MASSIVE, who was to say which tiny bit was the be-all and the end-all? But then, maybe that was just me. Simpleton, like.
Secondly, some of the stuff they were arguing about baffled me. For instance, there was a big dispute about what the machine-system-thing's NAME was. People were quite worked up about it. As for me, I was so busy admiring it, and breathlessly trying to follow how it all worked, that it's precise name didn't really bother me.
Thirdly, I'd come across people who were busy (loudly) (and often pompously) telling small groups of devoted followers EXACTLY how everything worked. Well, you know, me being me, I'd just kind of look up at this thing, stretching up all the way to the sky above, and I'd just kind of giggle stupidly to myself. How in heaven's name anybody could presume to understand a system as huge as that… Oh, well.
That was a long time ago now. I'm getting old now, and, guess what, I'm STILL trudging my way around that fascinating system-thing.
I love it. Love the journey, too. I say my simple prayers, fill my little heart with gratitude, and look back happily on the tiny bits I've sort of, kind of, learned to (maybe) understand just a little bit. And then I look forward to figuring out everything else I've only scraped the surface of.
But, at least I figured the manufacturer's name out. I think. I found it in an old book. It said, very simply:
“In the beginning, God…”
Francis Meyrick
Return to Index? (CosmicDrifter.COM)?
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 15, 2019, 2:49 pm
by whadmin
Voices, crying, in the Wilderness?
November 13, 2019 in Short Story (spiritual quest)
Voices, crying, in the Wilderness?
(The individuals don't matter. The voices, crying in the wilderness, set against already burning cities, and rumors of wars… do)
Voice 1:
“One day you are going to die and you're going to wish you spoke your mind and lived an authentic life…
You won't care what people thought of you.
You won't care about your little failures.
You won't care about looking silly.
You'll wonder what impact you left on this world.”
(someone shouts from the shadows: “As far as the Bible is concerned “White Men” are the ONLY HUMANS down here! So there is no harm to our Souls for defending and claiming our HERITAGE! Bi-Pedal Beasts of the field are of no concern, just like vermin!”)
Voice 2:
The older I've gotten (and, admittedly, uglier), I've moved away from a ME-Cosmos-centered approach. There ain't sh*t revolving around me. I'm quite content to see myself as a tiny (albeit noisy) grain of sand, on the long beach of Life. I don't think the ego means much. It's only as part of a movement, a groundswell, that we can hope to make a difference.
With that comes a certain quiet peace. Meaning, I won't change the world on my own. Plus, my existence is a hiccup in Time. A tiny sigh, in the Storm of Life.
A single tear, in the river of Experience.
I don't find that depressing, or discouraging. On the contrary. It's liberating, because it's the quiet truth.
Hence, saying what I think (sometimes being quite wrong, called out, and frankly admitting it) doesn't worry me in the slightest.
So, to answer your final sentence: it doesn't matter what impact lowly “I” (moi, dufus) have on this world. We may safely assume: none.
But as part of a growing ripple, a groundswell of Good & Kind, well meaning people? I'd like to think I could be 'part of' something gentle, yet firm, Compassionate, yet strong.
Something quietly 'good', that will last, and be handed down, eventually, to a wiser, kinder, more understanding race of men.
Voice 1:
That is nice…but.. The circle is closing. Darkness is closing in once again.
Western Man had a short period of freedom, had a period of prosperity. We came out of centuries of absolute rule by people who considered us nothing more than backwards peasants. By revolution & sheer will we overthrew that ..but.. misled by (here I could name them, but its contentious, so no matter) an 'elite' we again face slavery, this time of a far worse kind. We face a tyranny of a kind never before imagined. We again live in a civilization where the average youth cannot consider getting married, cannot consider raising a family & we are subjected to the will of a few handfuls of obscenely wealthy billionaires who hate us.
This 'society' that is being imposed on us cannot be resisted by a compassionate, good & kind, understanding race of men. No, this evil oligarchy must be rejected & destroyed by fierce, brave men of conviction. Men who are not afraid to sacrifice everything for their freedom. Men who will not be compassionate, but who will remove, burn & obliterate it by whatever means necessary, & by whatever means they have at their disposal.
Only then can we reflect & perhaps because of this become wiser, more resolute but above all more steadfast in guarding our freedom.
(multiple angry voices from the shadows:
“when in a fight if not willing to go all the way you will get your ass kicked!”,
“I am on Board but Only if you are talking about Brethren!!”)
Voice 2:
1) Do not be fooled, by the meek guise of the wandering-wondering, airhead-poet.
I wanted to take away your slight emphasis (so it seemed) on our -individual- importance. As individuals, we don't matter. As a wave, rising, that's how I see it.
2) Next, I am not unfamiliar with the exercise of lethal force. And the tools and mindset required therefore. Let's leave it at that.
3) I have said, many, many times, that SO many people ONLY respect strength and/or P-A-I-N. Everything else is misinterpreted as weakness, and an open invitation to take full advantage thereof. This sad aspect of human nature is essentially denied by wet-behind-the-ears, lovely Liberal Utopian theoreticians.
Their instant outrage reflects not their claimed superior intellect, or mores. It reflects their arrogance, their lack of wounds, battle scars, and comrades lost.
All of which is to say: “Gear up, men. Fight coming.”
4) Why not name them? The enemy? Because it's 'contentious'? Meh. It's also essential, bud. I name them, all the time.
We fight the TALMUDIC MAFIA, MASTERS of GENOCIDE.
I suspect they are, however, merely the physical manifestation of the Dark Demonic. That hates Man, more than we can even begin to understand.
Voice 3:
You sell yourself short. We all make impacts. We shape those around us, and they shape us. It's a monumental thing to be a small part of, but in being a part you become the monument.
Voice 2:
True. Important, as well. But note, we do not SEEK the monument, like so many (shamelessly) do. (that's my whole point above).
We seek the WAVE.
Voice 3:
Seek or not, we are its constituency. Whether beneficent or malignant is of course up to the individual. Social cohesion is what will help build your wave. Discordant voices in a choir will sow confusion, but voices raised as one, or as many in harmony will ultimately create a mighty wave.
Voice 2:
I agree.
I feel more and more that Washington's uni-party is (with a few notable exceptions) overwhelmingly aligned as one, to cheat, bamboozle, mislead and transparently deceive We, the People. To crudely enrich themselves, and their cronies. To bask in the limelight, virtue strutting and drama queen-ing, all delivered from the haughty, snotty, condescending, nose-in-the-air hauteur of a sense of career entitlement.
They despise us. Their transparent lies prove it. They don't CARE anymore that we KNOW. There is no greater contempt from the direction of 'career Government', for We the People.
I hope to live to yet see that mighty wave clean out the putrid swamp.
Words alone won't achieve that.
Voice 3:
Indeed not.
Voice 1:
This is more like it. I agree totally, so much so I could have written it myself.
Its the theme of a lot of stuff that I post, just in smaller, bite size chunks. There is a growing sentiment that reflect this in the dissident right. It just needs to be expanded & it will take root & bear fruit.
When it kicks off & it will, we need to be prepared & ready in our own locations & in our own countries to begin the fight. We must not make the mistake of all gathering in one area but instead tie down the resources in many areas so that all countries are contending with their own insurgency & cannot bring a concerted coalition to defeat us.
I'm not sure how prepared the UK is but the US, France, Germany, Spain, even Italy, Netherlands & Scandinavian countries are on the brink. This unrest must spread throughout Europe so that the undecided can sit up & realize something is happening.
This will be a long slow war, but it is one we will win. I have no doubt about it.
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 13, 2019, 2:24 pm
by whadmin
Comfortable in my skin
November 4, 2019 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest)
LordBalfour@LordBalfour
Posted in The Coming European Civil War(s)
I will tell you this, all through our conversation, you were really open-minded, and stayed throughout the entire time, rather than blocking me,
which is totally unusual for Christians, in my experience, whenever I share these things with them they come back with foul languages or just block me even without a conversation.
A very recent example, I never knew who is this @RetiredNow, but I think you tagged this user in our conversation, I never even spoke to this user, but it seems she got my message and blocked me even with giving any counter-argument.
@FrancisMeyrick
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Francis Meyrick
@FrancisMeyrick
Posted in The Coming European Civil War(s)
@LordBalfour @RetiredNow
I get that a lot. From many people. For many years.
The possibility exists that maybe I'm 'open' just because I'm a gormless simpleton.
I'd like to think (cough) it's not that.
At some level, I'm very comfortable in my skin. Meaning, I am oddly grounded on certain core beliefs.
1) Life is short. Death stalks us. Constantly.
That's okay. It's the way of the world.
If you ever read my stories “Eyes of Dead Man” (on www.chopperstories.com) or “Running the Gauntlet” (Blip on the radar series) you'll probably see I had no illusion how serious a deadly pickle I was in. With it comes a quiet acceptance of the way my life will end one day. No problem, hopefully it's just a door, I shall noisily kick in.
But here's the point: I suspect THIS existence is just a small ante-room of a very big palace. A waiting room, or a coat room. Why should we lie, dissimulate, pretend, crave being 'right' or 'block' those who disturb the peace of our musings?
I don't see it that way. I see my thinking essence as a work-in-progress, a sculpture of sorts, and the chisels and hammers and drills and sand paper, and All-sorts-of-painful-stuff, that comes raining down on top of me… is what makes the sculpture.
Welcome, hammer! Welcome, chisel!
At boarding school, we were taught debating. Same topic, one week, argue this side. Next week, argue the OTHER side. Guess who was the school debating team captain. No greater giggle than having fellow students afterwards openly grumble, and wonder how the bloody hell I convinced them my side was RIGHT, two weeks running.
2) I am utterly convinced of the existence of much that is beyond our immediate view. Hidden from us. The spiritual, the demonic.
but..
3) If I'm WRONG on 2), then that's fine too. Then we just have to pick up the fallen pieces of my fine theory, accept that 'no help is coming from outer Space', move on, and try and figure out how mere MAN, on his humble own, poor fellow, can best approach the mammoth task of running this beautiful, breath taking little planet, kindly and well, for future generations to enjoy.
So, I have no axe to grind. I'm open to your hammer & chisel.
My thoughts are often:
“Oh, good. A well articulated, opposing view. Yummy. Let's see what he/she has to say…”
Return to Index? (CosmicDrifter.COM)?
Nov 04, 2019, 12:26 · Web · · 1
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 15, 2019, 3:41 pm
by whadmin
How long will I love you
October 31, 2019 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest)
Thoughts, of no particular significance, sometimes, just flow. Harmlessly.
Very gently, unforced, with no hidden agenda. Seeking no reward. Or recognition. Like raindrops, working their way, patiently, zig-zagging, down a large window pane. Occasionally bumping into one another, and then, suddenly, skooting along hurriedly for a while.
Above us,the thunderstorm moves on. The sound grows less. The intensity of the lightning, still seen, grows dimmer. But the raindrops, on the window pane, mosey on, obeying only their own sense of direction. Following invisible, crooked pathways.
My simple thoughts, too, careen along, unstoppable, bouncing off others. Sometimes moving more quickly, because of an unexpected encounter or input. Other times, seemingly arrested, my thunks stall out, waiting. For the next. Thunderstorm.
I am struck today, not by lightning, but by the sense of different perspectives. As I dream, or move in a reverie, I gaze down from one of my favorite perches. I'm just hanging out here, at about two Lunar Distances from Earth. About half a million miles. I like it here, especially with my back towards the sun, so I am not dazzled by the brilliance. I just love watching planet Earth come gliding serenely along, with her companion Moon patiently doing the Lunar Slow Waltz.
I like reflecting on seven billion minds, sprawling everywhere on that Pale Blue Dot. With their passions, their jealousies, their hatreds and their obsessions. Their romances too, their great loves, for family and friends, their God or Gods, their music and their song.
It's hard to imagine them all, sharing that brilliant pale blue orb, sometimes peacefully, more often not.
I like reflecting on Time.
Thinking about the age of the Moon helps me a lot. You see, it is thought that the moon was once closer to Earth, and, from observation, we know the Moon is slowly moving further away. This is happening at the smoking rate of 3.8 centimeters per year. The conundrum here is that opinions vary. Some say the Moon in the Precambrian Era was only about 215,000 miles from Earth. That would have been a short while ago. About 2,500 million years Before Present Time. Calculations along those lines would mean the Moon was not 4 billion years old, as held by some. It would actually be just a cheeky young squirt, about 1.5 billion years old. Fancy that. Oh, and don't forget, it is predicted that the lunar distance will continue to increase until (in theory) the Earth and Moon become tidally locked. This would occur when the duration of the lunar orbital period equals the rotational period of Earth. The two bodies would then be at equilibrium, and no further rotational energy would be exchanged. However, models predict that 50 billion years would be required to achieve this configuration, which is significantly longer than the expected lifetime of the solar system.
Fifty. Billion. Years. To wait.
I guess I'll just hang out up here a while longer.
And marvel.
The way I do.
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on November 1, 2019, 12:40 am
by whadmin
Making whoopee on GAB
October 8, 2019 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest), HolocaustGAB
On GAB.COM you can always find the derelicts, making whoopee and holding forth. Good fun.
Biela Rasa@bielarasa said, speaking to Johann Cater @Titanic_Britain_Author
“One of the least talked about Scientific facts is Bell Theorem or Non-Locality of the Universe. It has been tested by the “Aspect Experiments' yet Scientists don't want to accept it in their heads because it clearly demonstrates that there is a God and he is in control. When they discovered the Higgs Boson, they said there was an error because some Photons arrived at the destination before they left the point of origin. God is not subject to Space and Time and all they want to do is ignore or explain away that their view of the Universe is no more than a description of an illusion. They miss the point that God does not have to comport to human understanding. When he demonstrates this, they ignore it.”
Johann Cater @Titanic_Britain_Author replied, quite reasonably i.m.o.:
“A lot of very weird things happen at quantum level. Particles appear to come out of nowhere and then disappear. A particle can be in two places at once. Effect comes before cause. Particles appear to know in advance that they're being observed and change what they do. Paired particles act in unison even if physically separated by 1000s of miles. All this points to the existence of other dimensions they can access that we can't, not necessarily to God.”
And then some derelict vagabond that the cat dragged in, stuck HIS oar in, uninvited. Three guesses who, eh?
“Entertaining exchange between you two guys.
I agree with Johann that it does not necessarily point to God, and that it could point to the existence of multiple universes, extra dimensions, etc.
One can add that many suggest the field of mathematics point to the mathematically-possible existence of ten to eleven dimensions.
Open mind is good. But…
Nonetheless, for my grubby money, @bielarasa nails a tendency of Arrogant Man very well. Arrogant Man's foolish pride, where he sets out with the preconceived idea that there is no God, hell no, and simply flat out & pompously IGNORES anything that disturbs or threatens that pre-erected temple of human prejudice & obstinacy.
Small example: how many people totally ignore the fact that the moon perfectly eclipses the sun? I mean just spot-on perfect, thus permitting truly wonderful observation from the Earth? Most everybody! But the chances of that happening? Absolutely minuscule. As I understand it, no other moon in the solar system comes anywhere close.
Sure, it doesn't prove the existence of God. But I strongly, strongly, bordering on certainty, suspect the existence of a Good God, who is not devoid of a mischievous sense of humor. I suspect it would be just like HIM, to have placed the moon beautifully where he did, knowing full well Arrogant Man would pooh-pooh that as just a freak chance.
I'll be amused if one day we found out that HE was at it again with all the weird stuff that happens at the quantum-level. Basically, pardon my descent into the vernacular, “f**king with our tiny minds”. Knowing full well that no matter how much He produces 'clearly observable' evidence of His Wonders in this world, just like the scorned Bible says, that all these silly little critters with their puffed up opinions will mock anything that doesn't fit the preconceived disdain they have for anything that challenges their vastly overblown opinion of their personal (cough) exalted knowledge & WORTH.
I'm a nobody, guys, no authority, and certainly no fount of wisdom or claimed insight. But from where I'm sitting, and dragging on a weary cup of coffee, first thing in the morning? I'll bet you we are just tiny match sticks, full of our own 'light', trying to explain away the star Betelgeuse as nothing but a blip.
Mud worms, arrogantly peering through the fog, bumping our gums about things we know absolutely nothing about.
I'll just quietly say my prayers. And marvel.
One day, I hope to find out for sure, that which I strongly suspect, bordering on absolute certainty, to be true.
Buckle up chaps. It's gonna be a helluva ride.”
by whadmin
My Third Novel: Problems – Part 1
October 3, 2019 in CECW-project
My Third Novel…
Problems – Part 1
Problem. My third novel….
Realism, accuracy, historical references.
Believe-ability.
My first two novels (“Jeremy’s War” & “The Tuna Hunter”) (e-books on Smashwords.com) were, by comparison, much more straightforward. I slowly built the characters, frequently based in part on Life, Death, and my adventures enroute, too often (just) past the latter. They meekly spoke the words I gave them, and performed the stupid-passionate-cold (& murderous) I ordained upon their walk. Nobody argued back. Over 100,000 words later, in each case, a story was molded. Bestsellers they are not, and that minor detail worries me not in the slightest. I wrote the bastards. Wrestled though many an all-night session. I often drank the bitter cup. Scratched a cruel, surgical pen into what remains of my dark & brooding soul.
That’s what matters. For me. You may sneer, and call it vanity press if you wish. Or you may condescendingly mock self-therapy. What-ever. If judgement is your forte, and your insight and brilliance is par excellence, then read no further. I dare not waste your august time.
Now, for my third novel, I want to describe the emerging scenario in Europe today, and likely blood spilling & ‘premeditated culture annihilation’ (PCA) over the next decades.
Whole different kettle of fish.
Believe-ability.
It’s easy-ish to spin a good yarn. It’s much harder to chart, predict, forecast, the mindset of the emerging European Patriot Paramilitary. I truly believe (and I am far from being alone) that ever growing invader arrogance, brutality & violence, and consequent Patriot push-back is inevitable.
One of the many problems we face is accuracy of PAST History. And even remotely understanding same. Interpretations of events -even those we attend in person- are always subjective. The author Tim Pat Coogan did a very detailed analysis in his book “The IRA”, but there are areas in which I believe he is partly mistaken. In particular, the fact that some IRA members consented to interviews, and other did not, and would never do so, should be a red flag to the observer. It’s NOT a cross-section you are interviewing. The extreme and necessary paranoia of the true silent killer, (or enablers of killers), means that the fate(s) of some of the most deadly assets remain unknown, or barely known, to this day. The strange demise of one ASU, one of the absolute deadliest, to this day smacks to many of flat-out betrayal. By their own side. A politically expedient price to pay? For what? Betrayal by whom? Which Judas? How many pieces of silver? Ah, no certainty there, but much speculation. And lasting bitterness. The fact that every one was killed, and not one taken alive, or even seriously wounded, further suggests ‘planned execution’. We know the British Government had its reasons. But maybe not just the British Government. Somebody else also had a vested reason to ensure these men could never tell their stories. Or threaten the Peace process?
It is easy for academics and journalists to assume that all aspects of IRA activity are ‘open book’ and that, as the cynical saying goes, ‘more books have been written about the IRA than the number of members they had’. That is a mistake of complacency.
A small example: I was present in Dublin at the burning of the British embassy. I have yet to read a fully complete report of what truly transpired that night. And what those ceremonial coffins really contained.
That is History, allegedly, well documented and understood. I query both conclusions.
But… What of today? When the Official Media is officially long gone JOT? Jew Occupied Territory? When dis-information is not just common, but rampant? When a European populace often is all too quietly fearful, but compensates by furious mockery, (it will never happen), and by being illogically in favor of endless appeasement? Where the messengers of bad news are themselves, shot, or, worse, labelled Far-Right extremists? And viciously persecuted? Fined, libeled, incarcerated, & silenced?
Try and wrap a believe-able story around that lot.
No PC, instead, be honest about the PCA.
Without furiously offending lots and lots of people.