Tag Archives: death

Christianity, conspiracy, Emotions, Pain, Politics, QAnon and others, Secular Wings, Spiritual Abuse, Trauma Talk

Hodge-Podge

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THIS is who my mother follows. I have been listening to her videos on Instagram for about 5 months. I was actually caught by surprise to note that “she is my mom.” Now, she’s not my actual mother, but mom mimic’s her in every way. Especially in the hands and some facial expressions. I wasn’t so much surprised as startled really. I realized that mom had been mimicking her for years.

There are times I must take breaks from listening to her. If you are looking for a hodge-podge of explanations for our existence, for our galactic/planetary history, for the present and for the future . . . well it’s all here.

If you want to go down the rabbit-hole of understanding conspiracy (remember it’s not to them) and reality (remember, it is to them) and good vs evil (remember that’s the core of their mission).

If you want to understand the cult of personality (remember, to them it is not a cult.) It is following higher-beings tasked with absolute knowledge and “they” are here to help us, the lower-plane humans.)

If you want to understand what’s going on politically (remember, they know what’s going on.)

If you want, click on the link. Her most recent video (if Facebook didn’t remove it) is at the top of the right hand margin. She starts off basically mentioning Jan. 20/21.

If you think taking notes will help you get a grip on their logic . . . good luck.

In following it over a period of time I notice the unfinished sentences, the jumping from one topic to another and maybe back again. Saying “the evidence shows” and never providing the evidence, though sometimes she waves a sheet up and rattles of a url on different things like transhumanism, mRNA vaccines that change our DNA as well as personal opinions (that seem to cover her ass or deflect the fact that she’s literally coming across as literal.) She’ll sometimes follow up by saying: But I don’t know. I’m thinking, then why do you present yourself as an authority that does know?

She uses the *C* letter as a word to denote Covid and she uses her fingers to form a *V* when referring to “the virus.” It has become a way of trying to avoid detection on Facebook and Instagram. She’s been flagged here and there and when she was a little more obvious I think from what she’s said that her videos were taken down at some point. She talked at one time of going underground. Places like Parlor and MeWe. I don’t think she went there. She may also be on YouTube. I haven’t checked.

I’ve noticed over a period of time that the goal posts shift. It’s over a period of time that one notices those things and dates where stuff was suppose to happen . . . actually didn’t and oddly, no one seems to notice, or a very quick flitting confusing explanation is given. The odd person shows up to ask ‘why what happened didn’t happen’ only to be labelled trolls, narcissists, reptiles, dark ones, sleeping lions (good people, just not awake yet and unenlightened.) Don’t worry about the good sleeping lions though. They’ll soon see and it is then they’ll realize that we’ve been right all long. Hold on, The Awakening is happening.

She reminds me of my former belief-system. Born-again Christianity.

She has a following. And, for the most part she has followed a ton of other people herself (the hierarchy). I will say that my first impression was Insanity. But you know, if that is the case, there are a lot of insane people. I tend to wonder, if traumatized isn’t a more apt term. People who are traumatized. After all, we all have a story and life if anything is deadly. Existential threats abide. Beliefs are formed. People are not so much insane as traumatized. Perhaps it is a lazy word I use to try to cope with the moment at hand.

Awhile ago she brought up a start up group called Make America Free Again. It was promoting like-minded people to get together in homes with the intent of basing their coming together first as a caring community (people are so lonely due to the hand gesture *V* and need a mask-less hug to feel human again), secondly to slowly start to bring up their agenda (government conspiracies, the virus, the masks, personal autonomy, sovereign lives, historical conspiracies, galactic/planetary/alien beliefs and more in order to educate, and thirdly to slowly promote (the agenda because overwhelming them isn’t productive) and have them join the movement as individual as well as collective activists for their now common cause. All of it as a benevolent way to prepare for the New Earth.

Ah I said to myself, Friendship Evangelism.

I couldn’t escape the premise of hope given by her and to a number of people who appear to be vulnerable and scared to death. Her role appears to be to give them insider information that will ease their angst. It’s like a hodge-podge spiritual ideas warehouse rehab centre presented as authentic. Just believe, have faith and trust the message coming down from the higher-beings via the light-workers and channelers. Not that different than Christianity &/or other religious promises. Hope, peace, fear, follow, believe, faith, higher-beings, light-workers (pastors), channelers (evangelists.) It’s not hard to see why some Christians would be absorbed into this miasmic balm of community and defend themselves progressives as they did so.

One of the highlighted admonitions/warnings is: stay away from mainstream media. Stay away. It’s all a lie. It’s all false. It looks one way but it is really another way. Don’t trust anything you see on T.V. Don’t trust the footage of the violence at the capital on Jan. 6/21. Nope. Fake. Actors. Didn’t happen. Just hold on. We’re almost there. Trump won. Whatever you see re: Jan. 20/21 isn’t really factual.

Yes, the Qanon stuff is woven inside and out through all of this too. Her approach to the dialogue to her parishioners is to develop sort of her own insider language. Sort of like Christianese (for those who know what I mean.)

When we attended church, we were expected to be there morning, noon and night. Some of you will get that. Twice on Sundays, including Sunday School, meetings and choir practice. Wednesday, be there or be square. Choir, youth meeting, prayer meeting. Phone calls in the middle of the night? Take them. Fit in the rest of the week with family, try to snuggle with your partner, be the Jesus others will never see in the community, in the schools and at work. Try to remember to eat well, pee and poop when you get the urge, instead of thinking you have to put everyone else first and hold on to the shit. Pardon moi.

You know the phrase, separation of church and state?

Church was about separation of church and family and scripture was used to back it up or Christianese (a sprinkle of scripture with a dash of mission statement and a pinch of church constitution along with the wooden-spoon look that left you knowing you’ve forgotten you are saved Christian and reminded you are a Christian but still a sinner and don’t you forget it!) Your family is important but not as important as the church.

You need to be here.

But what about our unsaved family. Shouldn’t we be with them? They think we are wrong. How can we reach them if we are not with them?

Let God take care of them. Let your belief and your lifestyle and your work be your testimony to them and the world.

In these videos I began to realize why it is that mom appears not to give a shit about me and is comfortable being disconnected from me. She is being preached at constantly about separation from those who don’t agree with them/her. Don’t worry about your loved ones who disagree. They just don’t know yet. And remember, they are reincarnated souls who chose “this” life so you can’t change the agreement they made before they came here. It’s okay to let them go. Some may still be on the earth at The Great Awakening and come around because they’ll then see it, others may not. It’s not your job.

So families are further divided. And people like my mom, (and young mother’s who turn away from their parents, and men who abandon peaceful friendships for violent alliances built on lies,) ignore reality and lose touch with their family because she believes she’s not going to die because this guru for years has talked about surviving death and new earth and countless other promises and mom is believing (along with the many others) that she will not die and everything is going to be okay, including her relationship with her children and family . . . and it’s all because of the hodge-podge belief system. Mom’s favourite saying with a cheshire cat grin and an air of arrogance and mystical knowing (because she’s on a higher plane) proclaims: You’ll see. Just remember what I said. You’ll see that I’m right.

I often think of the people who followed their simple preacher to Jonestown. It’s okay mom. He’s right and I believe him. You’ll see. It will be a new earth, and new beginning, a paradise. When you see it’s true, I’ll send for you and together we’ll live peacefully forever and over . . . okay? Hug. Kiss. Talk soon.

Secular Wings, Trauma Talk

A.M. Journaling

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I guess that is basically what my blogging has been.  Stream of consciousness writing as I come too in the morning. Not new thoughts or contemplations.  Just the need to rehash again.

Easter is my least favourite religious holiday.  Holiday.  We make a holiday out of sadistic remembrances of torture.  We get a day off to remember.  Then two days later (not three) we get all happy because the torturing though it killed, didn’t.  And we bow down to the man tortured because no one will ever know the pain he knew and he did it to pay for the sins of you and me.  Are you a terrible sinner?  Some would say I am just for the stream of consciousness I’m going through now.  Aren’t you mocking the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Zoe?  Am I?

Easter Sunday to me seems like the honeymoon phases of an abusive relationship.  On Friday the abuser whips the snot out of you because you are such a bad person and you made him/her do this because you are so bad.  Sunday all is forgiven because the abuser wakes up and makes up with you and you are so relieved you spend the day feeling like a brand new person, born again.  A new birth.

You put on a smile, relieved that today you won’t get verbally taunted or physically abused.  You get to forget for now that it ever happened and you hope as you’ve never hoped before in this whole new hope you have that you’ll never ever have to go through such pain again.  Resurrected.

Then you wake up Easter Monday.  Most of the hoopla is over and you start the day all over again, looking reality in the face.  The fear starts again, and the abuser reminds you who is still in charge.  And that glorious hope you enjoyed for a time?

The blood and gore, those pictures, I can’t look at them.  I see and hear abusers taunt the abused and say, ‘This?  See this?  This is what you did to me!’

The abused stands back and usually never leaves the abusive relationship.  They stay thinking they can fix  it all.  They stay believing if they leave they will lose everything.  They stay trying again and again to make it right.  To change for the better.  To make the abuser happy.  They hang their heads, withdraw, and hope against hope the abuse will stop.  There will be a reprieve come December.

Thank goodness for religious holidays.

Death, Emotions, Healing, Humanist, Life, Pain, Secular Wings, Trauma Talk

Mourning The Wretches

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In the back ground the bagpipes play the tune, Amazing Grace.  The news commentators themselves are visibly moved.  Another Amazing Grace.

It’s time for humanity to find another tune for mourning, for grieving.  Not a tune about wretches.  Listen if you are a confessed wretch, who by some circumstance found salvation in some one or some thing, then by all means sing about the grace you have now since being delivered from your wretchedness.  Own it.  It is yours.  But in general, let that tune go from the streets of Paris.  Let it go.

Don’t sing or play a tune about grace when none of it is sprinkled anywhere near the dead, the wounded, those yet to die as each moment passes and those who will live but live maimed forever, like the living community whose own soul has been sliced by shrapnel and bullets.  The trauma of the dead.  The trauma of the living.  This tune, Amazing Grace, does not transcend the suffering.  We need a new tune to mourn, to grieve, to mend our collective humanity.  Not one that champions grace these wretches, dead or alive did not receive.  Think about it.

How sweet the sound.  The bombs bursting in air.  Through the perilous night.

That saved a wretch like me.  Such a terrible terrible person.  Such a wretch I am.

I once was lost but now am found.  I’m over here, bleeding out onto the pavement.  Tell my parents I love them.

Was blind but now I see.  Nothing.

 

Humanist, Secular Wings

Life As I Know It

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Commenter on Bruce’s Blog (A guest post by Dave):  […]  If I thought life here as we know it was all their is. I couldn’t face another day. I would not want to be a mother grandmother or nurse. What hope could I give my loved ones and patients.  […]

Zoe responds: Sure you could Cheryl, you just don’t know it. You aren’t so very different than many of us who also once could have and did have those same thoughts. I suspect like many of us because you are a mother a grandmother and a nurse, you indeed could face another day, many days. :)

My unbelief in your God does not affect who I am as a caring and kind person. I spent time yesterday with a Christian family who is facing a life and death situation. My unbelief did not affect my love for them or my ability to be present, to help, to make supper, to care for children, to encourage and support them. It certainly also did not interrupt my hope for the best possible outcome. As a nurse myself (no longer in practice) I am also still a great sounding board regarding medical terminology. My unbelief in a theistic being like yours doesn’t change who I am as a human being.

*****************************************************************************

Life here as I know it is all there is and I will face it day after day.  … Zoe ~

 

 

 

 

Death, Secular Wings

“Did He Believe In Christ?”

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Wayne Dyer died.  Author and health/spiritual guru.  Is it okay to call him a guru?  Not sure if that sounds condescending or not.  Apologies if it does.  So many people claim he helped them in various stages of their lives.  I was reading the comments below a short article from Yahoo news (I don’t have the link.)  Here’s one below from a Christian.  The commenter starts off with a question:

Did he believe in Christ? People that believe Christ died for their sins get to go to heaven.

Christ is the only living God. The bible is an account of Christ’s time. Islam (Mohammed), Mormonism (Joe Smith) and the other religions are man’s account of a God that they didn’t meet. The bible is an account from many people. It’s fascinating to understand how the bible came to be. Even non Christ believing historians corroborate the history of the bible’s accounts.

Therefore, I don’t put Christianity in the religious (man’s view) category but more of an account of history. Before you thumb down you need to read the bible and then discuss your objections. Leave a comment vs. a thumb down. Thumb down this comment tells me you are admitting you don’t know how to provide a rational response.

A rational response?  Any response to this commenter I think would be deemed irrational unless in complete agreement with him/her.  So why even bother to engage?

A man dies.  A fellow human being.  One who believed in an after-life, an eternal spirit, and as far as I know, a God, though I do not know anything about his God-belief.

This comment is the type of thing I heard all the time in my former belief system.   Paraphrasing and summarizing real conversations I was present for.

  1.  Did you hear so and so hung himself/herself?

No.

I wonder if he/she knew the Lord?  I hope so.

2.  Did you hear about the students who died during their school trip?

Yes.

I wonder if they knew Christ?

Well, most of them were from Jewish homes.

Oh too bad.  Unless they knew Christ they are in hell.  They certainly are old enough to be accountable.

3.  I was at a funeral recently and not once was God mentioned.  Can you imagine that?

Well yes, yes I can.

What?  Oh how can you give hope without mention of God?  What do you say to them to bring comfort?

A simple I’m sorry and a hug wouldn’t hurt.

Pained and shocked look on the believers face.

So, back to the article comments.  I stopped reading.  Someone may challenge the commenter but it won’t be me.

 

 

Death, Emotions, Healing, Life, Pain, Personal Memoirs

Part 2 – Thirty Years Later

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I woke up in Recovery Room to a familiar face.  I told her I was glad it was her.  I was exhausted.  I was sad.  I laid there thinking of all the women who I had cared for in that Recovery Room who had also miscarried.  Never again would I not be able to relate to their experience, the hormones, the emotional and the physical pain.  Looking back, I now realize the sheer volume of spiritual pain that many of us carried, hidden, behind our shame, our guilt, our self-blame.   We mothers so easily carry a universal-type Eve complex.  It’s our fault.  :-(  From now on, as a professional nurse, I would realize that tears or no tears, the information swirling around in the heads of women is often more than they can bear.  Of course, often, those who believe in God also believe that God won’t give them more than they can bear.  Or so that’s what everyone tells them.  Not true.

I learned from the nurse that the baby and the amniotic sac were all in contact.  From the surgeons eyes, he saw nothing wrong with the baby.  But of course, the baby was dead.  And yes, I called it a baby and to this day I still call it a baby.  The umbilical cord, for whatever reason (and I would later blame myself for this) fell apart breaking the connection between baby and me.

My stay in the hospital was brief.  Both my doctor and surgeon discharged me the next morning.  One told me to take the night off from sex but then I could get started right away and try again.  The other told me he didn’t want to see me for at least three months.  In other words, don’t get pregnant for three months.

The surgeon made note that he expected me to be sad and very upset the morning he sent me home.  I looked at him, brushed it off matter-of-factly . . . I had slipped back into nursing mode.  It’s okay, I’m fine, miscarriages are a dime a dozen . . . I was in another kind of shock and as well, I had started into that belief that God had allowed this to happen to get ahold of me again.  I had also started to believe that the miscarriage was my fault.  The level of athletic activity before I miscarried was heavy.  I believed I had not taken care of my baby by selfishly participating in a rigorous sport.  I shut down my feeling side and believed that what I was enduring was what one should expect.  I blew it, I deserved it, so there.

Then I went home and I went to bed and I didn’t cry until two days later when from the living room my husband heard my sobs.  Rushing into the bedroom and coming to my side he gently said,  “I wondered when it would come.”  And so I woke up for a bit and mourned the loss but underneath I was seething with self-blame and shame.  I named the baby, giving it a unisex name, not knowing whether the child was a boy or a girl.  I wrote a poem and held my own memorial service.  I pictured my little one floating in a specimen jar in the lab, along with all the others whose destiny was to float in a toxic chemical the rest of their non-lives.  I was horrified.  I believed though, that the child was in heaven and that gave me great peace at the time.  I understand why mom’s need a heaven.  (Dad’s do too by the way, but right now I’m writing about me as a mother.)