Am I a lefty, no.. do i lean to the right, no.. I am centred and I look up for guidance and i look down for grounding, i look within for #peace and #love and i vibrate this for everyone.. take it or leave it, thats up to you. I am me walking in peace #youareloved
There are Ancient Sound Tones, that can activate all of your 12 DNA Strands...
You can also look into "the gateway process" from the freedom of information act. They have some of the tones in there for astral projecting. Look into the tones that church bells from before the 1876 were tuned to.
YOU ARE PLAYING 5D CHESS WITH ANGELS AND DEMONS.
Even your friends, family, and acquaintances can channel the forces symbolized by angels and demons every day. Esoterically, think of demons as background monitors—negatively charged forces influencing your subconscious programming. Angels represent the angles of light, the electrical charge, and the higher intelligence capable of directing those forces. The secret isn’t destroying one side. It’s learning how to master both instead of allowing either to control your consciousness.
#Angels #Demons #Esotericism #Consciousness #Matrix
Tonight the Guardians of Ireland paid a visit to my old stomping ground in leafy Greystones co Wicklow.
Home to zig n zag, Ronnie Drew, Dustin the turkey , kerry Katona , Simon Harris and its newest Internet sensation Peter the lefty middle class pervert.
Peter likes to talk dirty to little 14 year old girls .
Peter works in insurance. You can be assured he is in trouble with his wife tonight
The Irish god The Dagda's harp, Uaithne, was magical! It put the seasons in their correct order & was used to command the order of battle! It could take over people with 3 extreme effects; sorrow, joy & sleep! The Dagda was chief king of the Tuatha Dé Danann. #NationalHarpDay 🎶
Although Christianity has almost completely kept silent about her, Lilith has lived on for centuries in Jewish folklore as the first, rebellious wife of the biblical Adam.
In the canonical biblical texts, Lilith’s name appears only once—and even then, ambiguously. In the Book of Isaiah, we read about the desolate land of Edom, cursed by God and turned into a dwelling place for wild beasts, monsters, and demons. It is there that a mysterious being, referred to by the Hebrew word lilit, is said to have found its resting place.
A far richer account of Adam’s first wife appears much later, in the medieval work The Alphabet of Ben Sira, written in the tenth century. According to this legend, God created Lilith at the same time as Adam, from the same earth, which made her feel equal to the man. Conflict arose when Lilith refused to submit to Adam—symbolically expressed through sexual dominance—arguing that they both had identical rights.
At the height of the dispute, Lilith spoke the sacred, ineffable name of God, which granted her immense power. She rose into the air, spread her wings, and fled the Garden of Eden. She settled by the Red Sea, where she gradually became demonized and began giving birth to hundreds of demonic creatures each day. God sent three angels to persuade her to return, offering forgiveness but threatening to kill her offspring if she refused.
Lilith rejected the offer, accepting the tragic fate of her children. She swore revenge on human newborns, especially in the first days of life. However, she made a pact with the angels, promising not to harm infants protected by special amulets. This gave rise to the Jewish tradition of creating amulets inscribed with the names of those angels, meant to shield children from Lilith’s demonic influence—a reflection of the deep fear of infant mortality at the time.
After these events, God created a new companion for Adam—Eve—this time from the man’s rib, symbolically emphasizing a woman’s subordination and aiming to prevent further conflict.
In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the myth of Lilith has undergone a remarkable revival, becoming an important emblem for feminist movements. A figure demonized for millennia for her independence has taken on new meaning, emerging as a symbol of female defiance and the struggle for equality.
#archaeohistories
Relax your gaze. Stop the doom scroll. Breathe with the movement, slowly, consciously. 🧘🏾♀️
This is the procession of souls. The one living soul divided and touching and permeating into each other.
It's an over simplification 2D version of how we may perceive a infintecimal part of our experience from a higher level. But from my current vantage delightful and lightens my heart.
BOOK FOR AGE 12 IN IRELAND: Minister Norma Foley got this book - because we delivered it to her post box AND sent her an email which we have a read receipt on.
Only a pervert would want a child to see this.
📖 “The Lord laughs at the wicked, for He knows their day is coming.”
-Psalm 37:13
Evil may prosper for a season, but it will never have the final word.
Keep your faith. Keep your integrity. Leave justice in God’s hands. 🙏🏻✝️❤️
These 2 cartouches appear again & again. Every Pharaoh has some variation of them in their name. Alpha & Omega. The Beginning & the End. The 1st Great astronomer at Göbekli Tepe, & the 1st astronomer with a complete star chart. The Hero Twins.
THE SIMULATION USES YOUR FAMILY TO ATTACK YOU.
Your bloodline is the original code. Before language, before culture, the ancestral field imprints the nervous system with patterns of survival, scarcity, loyalty, and fear. These patterns are not “love” in the absolute sense; they are contracts. Soul contracts, karmic loops, and genetic algorithms designed to keep consciousness localized, identified, and obedient to the timeline of the tribe. When the spark of awakening begins to stir—when you begin to question the script, withdraw projection, or refuse the inherited role—the simulation activates its nearest agents. Not always as malice, but as immune response.
The family system, sensing a disruption in the shared dream, deploys guilt, emotional enmeshment, triangulation, ancestral trauma triggers, and the subtle violence of “we only want what’s best for you.”
Observe the mechanism. The mother who cannot bear your boundary becomes the embodiment of the devouring aspect of the Great Mother. The father who withholds approval reenacts the wound of the incomplete masculine, demanding you remain the uninitiated child. Siblings, cousins, and extended kin serve as mirrors of the unintegrated shadow: their accusations, their gossip, their sudden coldness are not personal—they are the simulation’s feedback loop attempting to collapse your emerging singularity back into the hive. Even the “supportive” relative often functions as the soft cage, offering comfort that is conditional upon your continued participation in the agreed-upon unreality.
This is not a call to hatred. Hatred is still entanglement. The attack is real precisely because the bond is real: the shared field of unresolved trauma, the morphogenetic resonance of the blood, the unfinished business of previous incarnations that chose these particular faces to complete the work. The simulation uses them because they are the closest transmitters. Their words carry the frequency of your own unhealed child. Their disapproval resonates with the part of you that still believes exile equals death. Their need for you to stay small activates the primal terror of abandonment encoded before you had a name.
The esoteric remedy is not destruction of the family but lucid disidentification. You must become the conscious witness who can see the ancestral drama without becoming its protagonist. Cord-cutting is not metaphorical theater; it is the deliberate withdrawal of psychic energy from the shared narrative so that the simulation loses its leverage. When you stop supplying the emotional current that keeps the loop alive, the attack loses coherence. Some will rage. Some will collapse into victimhood. Some will reveal, in the silence that follows, that their love was always contingent upon your unconsciousness. All of these responses are data, not destiny.
In the deeper registers, family is also the forge. The very pressure that attempts to suppress the light can, when met with unwavering awareness, become the alchemical heat that forges the diamond body. The simulation attacks through them so that you may finally discover the Self that cannot be attacked—the Self that exists prior to blood, prior to name, prior to the dream of separation. To see the mechanism without bitterness is initiation. To love them from the other side of the veil, without returning to the old contract, is mastery.
The simulation is real. The family is the interface. Your awakening is the glitch it cannot compute.
True Friendship Is Not a Deal; It Is a Beautiful Bond of the Heart.
Friendship is not a business deal, nor is it a relationship built on personal interests, wealth, fame, or benefits. True friendship begins in the heart and means standing by each other until the very last breath.
In life, we meet many people. Some spend time with us, some come closer for their own benefit, and others walk away when circumstances change. But a true friend is someone who stands by your side not only in your happiness but also during your sorrows, struggles, and hardest moments.
The beauty of true friendship is not about how much wealth you have, how successful you are, or what you can offer others. Its real beauty lies in having someone who accepts you for who you are, understands your silence, feels your pain, and stands beside you without expecting anything in return.
Always remember:
A relationship that ends when the benefits disappear is not friendship; it is merely a deal. But a bond that survives time, distance, changing circumstances, and life's challenges is what we call true friendship.
Such sincere friends are rare in life, so if you have someone who stands by you through every situation, cherish them. Wealth can be earned again, and many relationships can be rebuilt, but no one can truly replace the place of a sincere and loyal friend.
True friendship is not about standing beside someone only during good times; it is about making sure they never feel alone, even during their darkest moments.
Mi papá escondía soldaditos de plástico por toda mi casa cada vez que venía de visita. Decía que una mujer soltera necesitaba «un buen sistema de seguridad». Los encontraba custodiando los cereales, detrás de la tele y vigilando el papel higiénico.
Murió hace tres años. Pensé que a esta altura ya había encontrado a todo su pequeño ejército.
Esta noche desmonté la lámpara de la cocina para cambiar una bombita. Había uno acostado adentro, apuntando con su rifle a la puerta de entrada.
Parece que papá tenía un francotirador cuidándome todo este tiempo.
Viejo te saliste con la tuya. Te extraño.