“Embrace your grief. For there your soul will grow.”
— Carl Jung
Well, March 4-6, the first focused area for possible obvious March dates of importance, has come and gone. Result? Who knows? Certainly no false flag, and no “inauguration.” This, despite massive increase in D.C. Trump Hotel prices. What else was happening? Anybody know?
So, we await further inflection days. Coming right up, March 11.
It’s odd. In the above post I was trying to remember just why March 11 was significant, and did remember that was the date of the horrific Fukushima event, back on March 11, 2011. What I didn’t remember however, was staring me in the face! One year ago! March 11, 2020, the very day the NWO declared a pandemic for the entire world. DUH!
(Interesting: March 11 is six months exactly from September 11. What conclusions are we to draw from this fact? 9/11: also a massive event broadcast to the world with shuddering effect everywhere.)
Such enormous events, pulse out to engulf the whole world.
Might the official release date for the Sound of Freedom film be declared for March 11? Thus further cementing that date in our recent history as of maximum significance? Thus initiating the tsunami of grief to sweep the world? Even if that announcement is not what sets it off, I do feel that the Sun, on March 11, then Venus, on March 14, and Mercury, on March 30, all crossing Neptune will prove to be perhaps even more humanly significant than either Fukushima or the Covid plandemic.
Why? Because, no matter who we are, what lies at the bottom of all our souls IS grief — grief of all kinds and for all kinds of reasons — personal, interpersonal, political, cultural. We “hate” our grief. So we either ignore (repress, deny) it or project it. To allow our own grief to actually surface makes us feel weak —and confused, demoralized, even paralyzed — in a world where predators, we are told, lurk around every corner, or, invisibly, as a supposed “covid virus,” inside every breath we take. We don’t want to feel weak. We “think” our survival is at stake. So we hide our own grief.
And yet, if we would but admit our own grief into awareness, along with all the searing and/or sodden personal memories attached to it, what would happen? It seems to me that for us to truly allow in our own grief, and to sit with it, consciously, and with patience and compassion, for as long as it takes to dissolve into love, would be to re-ignite the primal life force within us, which has been massively pushed down into a sort of nodding, slumping, slogging, faked presence. Meanwhile, we need an “upper” to get up in the morning; we need another drug — pharmaceutical or otherwise — all day long to stave off “anxiety” or “depression;” and finally, at the end of each drugged day, a downer before bed, just so we can sleep!
Is this LIFE? Is this ALIVENESS?
Let us remember our own grief. Let us allow our own tears to flow, so that they may cleanse us of the ugly gunk that has accumulated inside.
There will be enormous reason, indeed, a perfect trigger, seemingly coming from the outside, for our weeping. The two million children of the world annually, abducted, starved, abused, raped, trafficked, drained of their adrenalized blood, and murdered, are mirrored inside each of us.
Each of us, in our essential being, is an innocent, beautiful, unique SOUL longing to be free. Which is why I started the Baby Picture Project. What if we all began to wear our baby pictures on the outside of our clothing, visible to others? What would happen then? Can you imagine? Talking to the bank teller, or the garage mechanic; walking down the street, all of us wearing our baby pictures, remembering, re-membering, putting ourselves back together with our innocent child self.
In this imagined, intended scenario, how long will any of us keep our masks on? And I don’t mean those paper or cloth muffle masks. These are but symbols representing our original mask, i.e., persona, or self-image, constructed, usually unconsciously, during childhood as protection, to interface with the world in a disguised manner.
Why do we need to disguise ourselves for others (and ourselves)? Because, at bottom, we still believe in “original sin,” a stain on our infant selves, there already as we are pulled from the womb.
(Is this the reason why it seems to be easy for at least ten states now to claim it’s lawful to abort, i.e., murder, even the newly born?)
The Catholic Church pretends that it alone can clear us of this supposed blight upon our infant souls. Can you imagine? Handing over such authority to an outside source?
Forget it. Whether Catholic or not, we have been done in by a beLIEf system that views human beings as inevitably out for themselves, selfish “useless eaters,” at war with each other in lives that are often, indeed supposedly should be, “nasty, brutish and short.” And those who actively beLIEve this absurdity are indoctrinated by others who also beLIEve it to either allow or even foster this “evil” to flourish, or deny altogether that it exists. Either way, the original innocent, precious beauty of every single soul, no matter what bloodline, or class, or race, or nation, we are born into, is as if denied, eclipsed, corrupted, dead.
So this current and extremely vital business of “saving the children” who have been abducted needs to extend to our own original child as well, buried inside us all.