Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Don't Panic

It is hard for many to believe that we can achieve what is in our potential to achieve. We have each of us grown up in this reality, each learned through the interactions we have had with other human beings to be careful with our trust. All have been untrustworthy, at some stage. Most of us have experienced rage, many have hit out, most have some buried shame, too deep and bitter to recall. Only small children, babies, are as trusting as we should all be of each other. Even then, many parents unsettle that trust early on.


The relentless steady measure of the media and of education fills our consciousness with the vastness of our capability to harm one another. We are being trained to consider ourselves unworthy, a threat, mindless zombies who will destroy the world.

Unclean, we cower each in our own sanctuary if we are lucky, tinged with an extra fear if we are not.

And we hope.

Now that the internet has created a new truth constituency we are steadily being conditioned to rest our strategy on that hope, so that hope is all that can be seen, not plans, not organisation, just hope.

And that hope can only be corralled and turned into power if charismatic leadership emerges, small guys on the world stage leaping to prominence and creating an explosion of “truth”, assuming the mantle of power through disruption.

Imagine if Greece did an Iceland, told the bankers to get out of their country. The Euro collapse would be rapid. Chaos would ensue. Imagine at that time Israel decided to bomb Iran, or to invade Syria or Jordan. World tensions rise towards war.

This, most conspiracy theorists would concur, is such an imminent and plausible scenario that it is almost an expectancy. An expectancy built by the actions of the masters and their stooges in the alternative media.

There might be a hundred different story lines, but all of them point to the same places in the unfolding drama, leading the thinker to wonder where goest we, where are we being taken, and where is the OFF switch?

They are writing the script. All of it.

And as we know, it’s a horror story.

Do you see how this new world order is being shaped? The new myths. The new storyline. Who knows how many million strong these new age believers are already, full of expectancy, let down by 2012, waiting for their new Messiah. Joining the end-times Christians and the preppers and the militias and god knows how many others who pass each day disappointed if some vast world changing event hasn’t occurred, so deep is their belief in change and the strength of their hope.

This is a force created to be devoured, this hope.

Its alternative is despair and a shattered belief in our ability to come good at the end.

And so the millions hope, and will be given an object for that hope, by whatever “magick” their black science possesses.

In that, perhaps, we will maybe too late discover what has been the purpose of chemtrails, having been sold the lie of weather modification. Do you see, we are still being fed a choice of two, but both come from the same hands and yet, having studied conspiracy, most can’t see the most useful conspiracy to have been effected if you wished to transform the world under your power.

To be behind the revolution and behind the collapse that created it, as we have seen so often recently, of course is what you would have sought to do in all those planning meetings all those years ago.

Such is its unfolding, this ugly flower.

Its sap is our consciousness. And it cannot live without sap.

We simply need to withdraw the supply of our energy to them and their systems, feed each other and care for each other and begin to share so that our transformation as a global society can begin, marked by its peace and good order.

We will question all that we do, and find much better ways to do them, and we will set each other free in every way.

For one man, it is a dream.

For a species, it is a duty, for nothing less will do.

Anything less will lead to the destruction we have been told to expect.

The dark shadow hands, dripping venom, have their clawed nails sharpened for the kill right now, their magick working to create that great leap across the Styx that causes young men to arm themselves and to seek to kill. This act is their finale, for they know they must win or lose as our number swells and therefore our collective intelligence, our hived mind, is emerging.

That collective understanding of what we most of us value most, how we most of us believe we should interact with each other, cutting through every political or religious argument or any other argument to the core of what we believe should be the principle on which we operate.

And finding there love.

They are seeking that hived mind themselves, trying to shape it, ready to seize its force to create their New World Order.

We must not let that happen.

What you think of as you is not you. You know that the real you is buried deep inside.

It has to come out sometime, as the alternative is never.

Beware someone doesn’t lure that inner you into another, viler deception, for that is the game that is being played, the control of the global hived mind is the single plan.



Aktina Pempti reminds me of all the good there is in this world and in the universe. She tells me life is the child of the consciousness of everything, and an expression of love in the granting of free will.

The test is if we use that free will to do harm or to love.

And is it good or evil that we serve?

That is for you to decide, fellow travellers.

And others are making that decision for you.



(As if I needed reminding.)



Don’t panic.

Love is close to us now,

Olive Farmer and the Hilarious Aktina Pempti.

Xxx

Xxx

xxx

Monday, May 27, 2013

Come into my picture.


We rent an old stone cottage that sometimes leaks. It has a yard with a couple of flower beds. It has a rusty gate leading to the narrow way where honeysuckle crowds around and greets the visitor with scent for three months. It has our treasure, a sixty-five year old Jasmine that flowers and suffuses with scent our lives from June until December.Our landlord never passes without a gift of something. Of eggs or courgettes or tomatoes or fruit from his orchard. Gifts of apricots and “Thespolla” and grapes. Sometimes at our door a gift of something, grown or made, left anonymously.
According to the government we are poor itinerant labourers, living well under the poverty level.
And yet our lives are full of richness, as you can read.

The sea lies a couple of hundred meters away, over the vegetable gardens and the ruins of the Minoan village.

We can hear goats, bleating their sad refrain, though they should be generally happy.

And where have we heard that before?

..

Eagles and buzzards and Eleanora’s falcons soar overhead. The old farmers go about their business, one turning up every couple of days to tend his vineyard next door to us. In his seventies, groaning with every exertion, with bad knees, he patiently toils for hours in the heat and dust.

He’s friendly.

We pass small time, my hopelessness at Greek probably giving rise to who knows what misinterpretations.

We stare.

We discuss the weather.

Health.

Going unsaid but not needing the saying we share moments of silence, staring at the sea, wondering what has become of us.

He is an honourable man I believe. As I strive myself to be an honourable man, doing no harm, living as far from the false reality as I can, I see how close in their past was that way of life and how its spirit still flows in their veins and lives on in their old music and their dances learned in Granny’s kitchen.

They are a proud people. Not perfect, as none of us are, but for the most part they want only good for you and are, dare I say it, still human. The worst effects of the corporate takeover are yet to be seen here. Few chain stores. People still grow a lot of what they eat or gather food from nature, wild greens and herbs, snails, goats milk from their small herd. Someone knows someone with a boat and so there’s fishing.

Everyone knows someone that makes Raki, the Cretan version of Marc, or hooch, or pocheen or Arrack, quite simply the best bit of booze a smile can get you three free bottles of left at your door.

The making is done with solemnity, and with fire, and with food and with drunkenness and with family and friends together. It has love and pride in it, this spirit. And shared labour. You are supposed to have a licence to employ a still and make Raki.



They banned smoking in tavernas here.

Everyone ignored it.

They insisted on crash helmets.

The wise took the hint. The rest just go without at their peril.

Which is of course their choice.

Too often, here, tragically.

Perhaps if the world were different, they would take more care, our youngsters?

And we would take more care of them.
As we should of our unborn.

There is poverty here, and fear for the future, and bills unpaid and businessmen being hit in the pocket. There’s some begging.

We are afraid, because we all of know the worst is yet to come.

The whole of our species feels this.

We know we can’t go on doing what we’ve been doing.

That little of it makes sense.

The very systems we rely on are designed to prevent us from controlling our destiny together.

It is time to shrug them off.



There is of course a resentment here.

There is a word here they use which refers to the money they had to pay to the Turks when they were occupied. They now apply this word to the payment of anything to the government. The entire nation understands it’s been shafted royally, but of course there is no leadership, no force for good and honesty and honour determined to make life good for people.

Just fringe parties, waiting to pick up the disenchanted.

And the greedy remnants of the old politics here, of sleazy deals passing down through the whole of society, cushy jobs granted, large contracts paid lip-service to and big profits ending up in Switzerland.

Retaining support with graft, with backhanders, dividing the loyalties of their people with tawdry baubles of power and money and pension whilst the great prize of a society built on the foundations of love, that thing we all at our very core desire most, passes us by.

Strangely, we all of us know this.



The old man and I staring at the sea know how close we are as a species to realising the simplicity of living long and living well and of loving and of loving life, and wonder when we might share that understanding and step out of the dream.

And set each other free.

And assume the burden of care for each other.

Your freedom I guarantee, because my freedom relies upon yours.



As a species we need to decide on the fundamentals, anchor our passion and our determination and our collective grunt and mind-power on that vision and simply walk in that direction, walking away from things that contradict that hoped-for place, that place we have to go.



Slowly the world is awakening to the idea that we are endangering everything, that we have become a threat to ourselves and that it need not be so. In fact we are despoiling our world and despair at it and feel helpless about it and by and large we are afraid.

Afraid of each other.

We have forgotten how to share.

Forgotten how to trust and to be trustworthy and to value that thing as highly as we should, it being a virtue of ours. As is generosity. As is caring. As is pity. As is selflessness at its highest. As is the love of fun, the ins and outs of kinship, the bonding and tribalism we find such fun made glorious by the absence of enmity, by the banishing of fear, by setting each other free.

As is love.

Love is all that we want from the world.

Love is all we should give.



When we seek on this internet for ideas about how to share we find the slick visions and packaged dreams made just for us, just for this moment, to draw us into a rabbit-hole.



Someone needs to invent an app.

An app that finds out what we really think, that balances choice with information that comes from the cloud, the input and the thought of the people that care, each time drilling down to a principle, the core principle that underpins the collective thought.



That core will be love, because we must come to the collective wisdom that this is the only way we will survive the peril we are in and step into a future worthy of our species.

A world people of peace and love, fit for the universe, dazzling in its diversity.



That is the hive mind, and it is a force of good, and it is our destiny.



We could adopt a symbol.



Perhaps the last war will be an app war, the war for the collective consciousness of humanity. A battle humanity must win, despite the huge forces targeted at us; the mass media , the systems and organisations and belief shapers, the thought shapers.

If love is not at its core, we must walk away from it.

Seek that inner desire that we dare not show to the world and call it forth, live the life you should live.

Examine all that we do in the light of this consciousness and make our world what it should be for us, its inheritors, that generation that is a breath away from discovering it has its shoulder at the door of history and can, with a shrug, step into a new future.

And if you can read this, this responsibility lies on your shoulders.

Shrug, dear friend.

Shrug now.



As we know, the battle is all about preventing us from coming to this realisation

It is being lost.

The species is awakening, and when they step on to the pathway that leads to truth they are waylaid by the glamour and the glitz of the prepared deception, they that bury the needles of their lies in a haystack of distracting truth.

To prevent a focusing of our intent on our future as a species.

To prevent us from asking ourselves what it is we really want, and then seeing no reason why, if that is what we really want, the world is not ordered so?

We are being distracted. Waylaid. Bamboozled.

I guess we should be ready for more.

Plots are unfolding.



This year the game will ratchet up a few notches.

.

Watch for the announcements from the alternative media. Parties are about to be formed. The next stage of the chaos, no doubt, is close. Daresay they would like to see Icke and Jones elevated to the grand stage. And maybe a few more “Masters of Wisdom” revealed in their networks……



Throw in the evidently planned UFO contact, however they play it, et voila!

The world becomes a Coke advert.

Our fate will be close to being sealed and still we will be divided.

Shouldered aside from our destiny for being stupid.

For fearing each other.

For using fear on each other.

And for allowing there to be a source of that fear, and for not believing what is obvious, and for being distracted.

All seven billion of us.

From what is true.



And there is only one truth, and it is love.

And in it lies our salvation.

Our one way out.

The last cast of the dice.



And I hope a million read this and see that this thing can be done, yet understand that 30 might read it.

So it goes.

In that lies our entire history.



This coming time is an event probably worth travelling through the universe to be a witness at.
Will we make it through the big test, or will we blow it?



We are eating in the restaurant at the end of the universe (thanks, Douglas Adams), have ordered Pizza and Coke and all of us have our collective fingers on a red button that says “FIRE” and are pressing down on it now.



We have become sick of each other, do you see?

.

We are being conditioned to believe we are too many, that there is not enough to go around, that only the fit are worth allowing life, that the sick and the old and the infirm can be helped to find dignity in dying. We are relentlessly conditioned to be wary of each other, living in a false reality that insists that we scrabble and fight for every morsel instead of being easy with each other and working together.



The consequence of dog eat dog is only one dog left alive.

And then that dog will die.

And there will be no more dogs.

And nothing left that can weep, that understands grief, will remain to mourn our ignominious passing into nothingness.



And those watchers will shrug and move on.

We will have failed.



It is on this threshold that we stand, dear friends.



Somehow, somewhere along our path, we have forgotten how to value people, how to judge their worth. We would honour wisdom. We would honour goodness. Now we pay a tithe to that which is wrong and are led to that by people we cannot respect, people we know to be liars, to be greedy.

Worse.

Our so-valued democracies are a sham.

They rely on our belief in the goodness of that which we believe represents our collective force, that if the democratic process is a sham then we as a people are a sham and of course that cannot be so.

In no way could we be the masters of this Titanic ship as it crashes into the iceberg of fate.

And of course we aren’t.

But we are allowing it to be so, by allowing ourselves to be so easily divided.

There is no divide.

There is only love.

And one humanity, having a lot of fun.
Which is of course, is it not, how the world should be?


And the simple job that’s to be done is to make sure we do have our hands on the helm, that the ship of life is pointed in the way we want it to be.
This would probably preclude weapons of mass destruction, and presumably war, and starvation, to begin the list.
Which is long, but do-able.

Do you see?

It just takes everyone to see, and the world will change.

In that moment.



We understand that we mean nothing to those that govern our lives and make the various hells we each live in.

We none of us know we are safe.

We haven\’t given that gift, which is within our power to give to each other, yet.

That is only a matter of time.



The end result of this experiment must end with our species deciding what is good for us, what is good for our world, how much fun we can get out of this experience we call “life”, joining together to walk away from anything that isn’t at its core an act of love.



Only this will be our salvation.

Therefore we must find our way to this place.
And it is, of course, only a step away. A small decision for you to make.



We can be proud again, each of us, and free.

And we can be the good that we conceal from life.

We can let that good free from its prison, sure that the world will not harm it..

And everything will change.


The meek will inherit the world, you see.


And we will fly.

With Love.



Olive Farmer and Aktina Pempti!



Xxx xxx xxx

Friday, May 24, 2013

Psycho Paedo Murderers and the Icke "Amnesty"

You are all aware that the echelons of the powerful are given the magick key which allows them, in return for selling their soul to Lucifer, the glorious prize of being allowed to and helped to do anything they choose to satisfy whatever particular bizarre or unnatural or unspeakable evil they choose in the knowledge that it will never, ever, be punished. This is their prize.


Top of the list is mass murder, as much fun as can be had for the servants of evil. The Brownsville Texas satanic cult massacre and skinning springs to mind, something which “may or may not have happened” according to the grinning psycho butcher Bush. The bloody handed Blair simpers his earnest smile as children, by the many many thousands, die in the middle east whilst Robin Cook and Dr David Kelly, murdered for telling the truth about the lies, spin now voiceless in their graves.

The MSM dare not speak of these things, or more likely are complicit in them, are supping at the devil’s teat themselves, have their own dirty little secrets.

If you visit the Icke section of the global mind control master plan you will, of course, realise that there is so much of this sickness it beggars belief. You will also realise that the Icke figurehead is afforded the unique privilege of being able to say that Ted Heath was a child murdering paedophile, that the Queen eats children, to name and shame many of the powerful and yet, bizarrely, escape any sort of retribution. No court cases for libel. No sudden heart attacks. No mysterious and unexpected suicide.

The brave crusader, soon to announce the formation of a new political force (to coincide with some planned incident), lives a charmed and well funded life, milking the dumber truth seekers of their hard earned cash, seemingly immune.

Are they scared of him?

Are they fuck.

He’s a good ‘ol boy, working his way up the greasy pole, primed for bigger things in the service of his master as the door swings shut on the human species.

This extract from here ( http://www.chrisspivey.co.uk/?p=8939 ) tells the story in a nutshell:



"Anyway, Andy Capp announced that he had drawn up a list of those who had libelled Nonce McAlpine and was about too commence libel proceedings against the culprits. The list apparently included; 30 grazillion billion million Tweeters, Seventy Ninety unnamed persons, 2 or 3 others, 2 tv stations, 1 Silly Bercow and a partridge in a Yewtree.

I also assume – although it wasn’t actually stated – that an amnesty was granted to us here in the alternative media. I say that because without sounding as if I’m blowing my own trumpet, bearing in mind the fact that I don’t own one, I haven’t heard a fucking dickie bird, let alone received a letter of intent from Andy Capp, or whatever the fuck his name is.

I find that strange because I’m pretty positive McAlpine has heard of me. And, to be fair, I did say a lot, lot worse about him than what the Tweeters did.

Course,I suppose that McAlpol could have been pretending that he hadn’t heard of me – though god knows why he would with such a watertight case. Never the less, no one could possibly believe that he hadn’t heard of David Icke.

David, as I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, probably has more visitors to his site per day than the combined number of those following the 30 grazillion billion million Tweeters who allegedly libelled McAlpine… And David didn’t get a handy Andy letter either. Now, since David also published on his site all of the extremely libellous things that I called McAlpine… It kinda blows any excuse for Andy Capp not sending me a letter out of the water, don’t cha think.

Therefore, since David, Myself and a handful of others in the AM, who cast dispersions on the good Lords name didn’t get a letter, there must have been an amnesty? Fair comment?

Never the less, the 2 TV stations, who on the other hand, didn’t name McAlpine as being a nonce. And, who I best not name in case I get solicited, paid the good Lord a combined total of over 300 hundred grand to ease the pain he was caused by not being named in the first place."

So, as the tattooed hero and hard looking “just any bloke you might know” Spivey points out, Saint David and himself and a handful of others (including, say, this “person”   http://aangirfan.blogspot.gr/2013/05/revolution.html  ) must be enjoying some sort of “amnesty”.

Odd, that.



Aktina Pempti and the Olive Farmer sit atop the mountain looking out across the sea here in Crete, watching the chemtrails get turned on as the planes approach the island, then witness from this lofty vantage point the planes swing around and come back to seed the sky with the metals that are readying humanity to receive the voice of their god.

From a high place, it is possible to see a long way.

Fear nothing.

There is good out there.

Beware deceivers.

Love will come.



Olive Farmer and Aktina Pempti

Xxx

Xxx

xxx