Learning to love the 'liminal limbo land'

Each passing day is a taste of sovereignty and a confrontation with slavery

Last weekend I was in Liverpool to attend a small protest against programmable money (i.e. financial slavery) and the “creeping micro lockdown” of “15 minute cities” (i.e. travel prisons). My father was born and grew up just outside of Liverpool, and my grandfather was a local journalist, so I feel an affinity for the place. Doing photojournalism for this kind of event is “relaxing work”. While it’s my “day job”, and the intensity of it leaves me pleasantly tired out afterwards, I also find it soothing to my soul and low in anxiety. Good people are out there making a difference, and I enjoy their vibe.

This contrasts with my more usual daily routine. I am finding the years of psychological warfare, information bombardment, and social stress is taking a toll on me. Often in the mornings I struggle with generalised anxiety, and it’s not because I have run out of coffee. This week I need to reach out to my brother for an administrative task, but we have not talked for about 18 months due to some family strife. It is taking me days to get to the point where I feel like I have the emotional strength to get the job done. It is not that I am weak or lazy; I am just exhausted from endless upheaval and worry.

Many of us are in a similar position. In terms of the macro world, we see everything edging towards a precipice: the collapse of the petrodollar and a consequence banking and economic implosion; the full exposure of the Covid genocide tied to election fraud and military tribunals for treason and crimes against humanity; and the harrowing reality of the fate of children being trafficked, experimented upon, and sacrificed in large numbers with the complicity of those we trusted. I have no idea how honourable intelligence agency insiders have coped with the burden of knowing for decades. I guess quite a lot did not, which explains the high rates of alcoholism, divorce, and suicide in that role.

We are in a strange middle land between slavery and sovereignty. I stopped doing the bookkeeping admin around my consulting and photo business when Covid started. I haven’t filed a tax return in two years. HMRC send me notices of penalties, and I ignore them; all genuine fines require a court case, and that’s the law. It is also unlawful for me to fund terrorism and belligerent occupying governments, and the state won’t want any case to go before a jury of my peers. All my resources went into waking people up to the lies, saving lives, and preparing for rough times. Once a government engages in democide there is no social or moral obligation to facilitate its operation.

My conscience is clear, which is why I have no shame in saying this all openly, even if it invites attack. Yet it remains an uncomfortable place to be, waiting for resolution and freedom. The day that everyone knows that Covid was a preplanned attack designed to kill and enslave us is the day that nobody will want to fund the authorities as they currently stand. The implosion of the state and its core institutions as they are currently configured is an absolute certainty, it is just a question of timing. A debt jubilee is a moral and practical necessity. Meanwhile, the minions of the corrupt system carry on issuing their unlawful demands for money and enforcing their fake court orders regardless. Those bailiff knocks at the door are stressful, and the resulting trauma is real.

One minute you are reading about cataclysmic pole shifts, hidden civilisations and erased history, and amazing technologies that have been withheld from us. The next you are trying to figure out how to sort your household garbage into the various recycling and waste categories that the powers that be define, which is probably just a compliance exercise and of little real environmental benefit. The extreme and the mundane are in constant juxtaposition. The supermarket boasts of the freshness of its nutritious produce, yet still displays the signs encouraging your to slave muzzle yourself and choke on carbon dioxide that acidifies your blood. Life is surreal.

It has been a long five years of nonstop fighting, and it seems like the denouement is coming soon. There is going to be a collective scream as the masses are shown how they were deceived and poisoned. It has to be this way if we are to recognise our vulnerability to being culturally programmed, and end the endless cycle of division and violence. The enemy’s essential strategy is to create adversarial relationships which get resolved by the enemy-owned legalistic morality; “WWG1WGA” is a restatement of unity consciousness and the need to (not) do unto others as we would (not) have done to ourselves, and stay within the divine morality of natural law. Love will carry the day.

For all I know the “15 minute cities” could be a very cheap way of waking up the masses. At the cost of a few plant pots at road junctions and dummy cameras you can piss off a lot of people in a non-toxic and easily reversible way. There are layers and layers of deception, and some may be for our own best interest. As long as the vibe is loving and inviting, then I am glad to be part of protests; it is anger and accusatory hatred that repels me. The numbers may have dwindled from the vast protests around lockdown, but these are the people who are truly dedicated to the cause of truth and justice, and people I want to be around. We know we are fighting a righteous battle against evil.

The years 2017-2020 were the initial crescendo of the (first) Trump presidency; 2021-2023 is the “liminal passage” before the tempo of the narrative gains pace again for the final resolution of the drama. A lot of us have been straddling the old and new worlds for several years, and it requires a huge effort. We are a kind of spiritual and social support bridge across which the rest of humanity can soon march to freedom. We have each carried a burden far beyond what humans are ordinarily called to do, but one which is invisible in nature, so denies you the obvious butch honour of dirty grunt work in kinetic warfare.

I was going to upload all these images to Smugmug so you can enjoy them, but it turns out that they only do payouts via Paypal, and I have closed all my accounts with them, as I don’t do business with thieves or censors. If you want to have a peek, the iCloud link is here. It has been a very weird time in this limbo land between the initial awakening of MAGA and Q, and the final complete awakening of humanity to its hidden enslavement via subverted language, misapplied law, usurious money, corrupt religion, and pervasive indoctrination. I am slowly learning to love this odd time, difficult as it may be, for it will soon pass, and its uniquely transitory nature lost.

But not forgotten.

I look forward to a day when I can just enjoy life without so much trauma about.