As the rain pours in the West of Eire with November consistency in the middle of June, as I resolutely adorn my orange gilet to keep my body temperature in the required operational zone for the umpteeth day in a row, the water in the wells of my eyes is being held back with the stubbornness of the Dutch boy with his finger in the dam.
My morning routine of scouring the internet for a glimpse of movement in this war of wars we are in is interrupted by an overwhelming set of emotions that are battling to get my attention.
Is it the fact that by September, three of my five children will have flown the nest?
Is it because I have an imminent house move on the horizon?
Is it because of the lack of sleep over the past four days caused by three of the strangest dreams I have ever had?
On the surface and in the 3D world, my life looks amazing. I got asked in the shop this morning how my business was doing? It was amusing to me to muster my answer quickly enough to fulfil the shallow but comfortable level of normal social intercourse.
Business? I don’t have a “business”! I am in the middle of fighting a spiritual war the likes of which have never been seen! Why would I be concerned about a bloody business!
But then I realised this lovely lady meant my healing centre in town, the one I set up with my friend Gary a whole blooming year ago already.
I had never really thought about it as a business. Not in the old sense anyway. Not in the pounds and shillings way that was being alluded to with this innocent question. I had only ever thought about it in terms of the effect it was having which, of course, could never be more than a pebble thrown at a tidal wave.
We were making a difference, we are making a difference, we have big plans. But I decided rapidly to defer to the default Irish conversation piece and referred back to the abysmal weather we were having.
“Bring back the lockdown, it was gorgeous weather then, wasn’t it Mary?”
This thought shot through my mind like James Hunt chasing a Bunny girl with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a packet of Marlboro in the other, but I was immediately taken back to being in the same shop three years ago when Mary looked up from her “news”paper and asked me if I was going to get the vaccine or not.
I think I said something to her along the lines of “You wouldn’t catch me dead sticking that shit in my arm Mary. It’s not even been tested on humans!”. I neglected to mention the fact that it was actually a bioweapon designed to kill humans and the past six months totalitarian fear-mongering was all designed to get people like Mary to volunteer to have this ticking-time-bomb death-shot injected into them, but I deduced she wouldn’t take kindly to that much information and I still needed a convenient place to purchase milk and cigarettes in the morning.
Walking in two worlds has not been easy the past four years.
I glance on X.com and see my fellow Apocaloptimist and freedom fighter Katherine Macbean is feeling not dissimilar to me:
I want to post stuff too, but I’ve been posting vehemently about the state of the world multiple times every single day for years and years on any platform that I could find. I know it has made a difference, I’ve met 10,000s of people now that have told me so, but I need to go within today. I need to write.
Yesterday, I tried to live a “normal” life and took my eldest boy Joe rally car driving. A father/son bonding day grabbed before he embarks on his own next adventure in the Mediterranean.
I am immensely proud of his achievements, his philosophy, his decentness. Despite everything, I know I helped launch him successfully.
It is still a gut-wrench to let your children go off and live their lives. It’s something visceral you can only experience by actually experiencing it.
The rally driving was fun though, and took my mind off the war for a delicious 6 hours.
I glance at one of the multiple WhatsApp groups I am in, peopled by other spiritual warriors most of whom I have yet to meet or even know what they look like. I am comforted by the words of the indefatigable Liz Bliss who left a couple of kind missives overnight in response to me posting my poem “If…2020” yesterday
These kind of words do mean a lot to me and it’s only been the encouragement from strangers that kept me going this past while.
But now, here I am, in love at 55 with a beautiful and brilliant woman. Surrounded by my amazing children every day. Best-selling author. World-renowned poet. Enthusiastic podcaster. Co-owner of a ground-breaking healing centre. Excited by our future. All our futures. Confident in the downfall of Satan and his cabal of cronies.
So, why the melancholy?
Am I sad for the loss of so many friends to MKUltra?
Am I feeling all the pointless deaths across the world from people who volunteered to be murdered by their own Governments?
Am I tired of all the egos, infighting and misinformation in the so-called “Truth Movement”?
Am I angry about having to watch my Grandfather’s funeral on zoom?
Am I worried about my children’s future?
Is this the Calm Before the Storm?
Is this The Pause?
The Pause, so effectively used by my two favourite playwrights Pinter and Beckett with such devastating effect?
The Pause, as outlined by the real Commander-in-Chief, Donald J Trump, in 2023?
Are we near the end of this necessary 4-year fake Presidency period?
I think so.
Time to go about my day. Time to remember what a beautiful life this is. Time to embrace the changes that are undoubtably on the precipice of habbening.
One thing I do know and repeat to myself every single day is this:
Never, ever, give up.
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Keep it up, Mark. We all have these days when it seems too much to bear. They pass. Sometimes it’s only a few hours. And usually from going too deep down those dark holes.
Sing. Sing loudly. And a bit of shouting helps.
And then reconnect with mother 🌎 with your bare feet on the wet ground.
We’ll make it. The rewards are just up ahead.
And we’re tired. I get it. But the spiritual world is there ready and willing to lend a hand. It’s just we forget sometimes.
🙏
Thank you Mark. I am so grateful to you for these posts. At least I don't feel I'm going mad. I can't stop crying......like a yo-yo.... up and down. The energies at the moment are really ramping up and the feelings I have of hopelessness are just more frequent. There are so few people in my immediate environment who get what I'm feeling... I do,however, have an inner knowing that it's darkest before the dawn ..... ❤