I have discovered in the last year or so that my most popular essays are not those on philosophical discernment, analysis of geopolitics, or the minutiae of information warfare. What resonates most is when I speak from the heart, and my own experience echoes that of the reader. It is cathartic to have our hopes and hurts acknowledged, and for someone to bear witness to our shared struggle.

In a sense the title of this essay is odd, given that introduction. Occam’s Razor is a tool of pure logical thinking: a heuristic that directs us towards the explanation with the fewest assumptions. This divides the more plausible answer from the less plausible one, encouraging us to keep our cosmology simple and not invent magical interventions to justify our beliefs. It is imperfect, can be misused, and the problem misframed: that is why it is only a helpful heuristic, and not a hard law.

My view is that the struggle of the past few years has been a kind of “Occam’s Mirror”, which has shown us the world more clearly, including ourselves and those around us. One part of humanity has sunk deep into a hypnotic psychosis, and performed the most absurd and dangerous rituals on themselves and their children. The other part of humanity has looked on in horror at the engineered fear, trashing of human rights, and mass participation in a death cult.

This mirror has helped us to see far more clearly who we are, and what we stand for. I sometimes wonder what those who come after us will make of this bizarre period in history. Just as Occam’s Razor divides the likely true from the likely false, “Occam’s Mirror” separates the real from the unreal, and helps us to tell that story. A spiritual war depends on you substituting a false reality for the observed one, and dedicating your energy to wickedness. So what have I observed gazing into this reflected horror show of deceit and dissidence, and what have I learned?

The easiest place to begin is with myself. A (now former) friend once observed that I am very “values-driven”, as if it were a charming defect in a world of realpolitik. What I have learned is that nothing will make me sell out to lies or wickedness, or sacrifice a fellow human for my own selfish interests. I have many faults and failings, and make endless mistakes that are a cause for embarrassment. Just none of that really matters; those are issues of personal morality, and not an ethical failure in dealing with the innocent, notably children.

The refusal to budge is extremely painful in a context where the masses have been brainwashed and hoodwinked into supporting downright evil authority. I have lost sleep many nights churning over the personal betrayals, the stunning self-justified wrongdoing, and the absence of love and care in my direction. Those who have adopted collectivist ideals and communist methods are willing to try to break my will for my apostasy from their depraved mania.

They have tried to force me into subjugation to sustain their own delusions. It saddens me, but I have found that I can live with persistent sadness. I have discovered that I cannot be broken by ostracism, false witness, denouncement, hijacking of my parental role, loss of normal family joys, neglect, or lack of resources. Quite the opposite: the more they try to control me, the more determined I become not to let it happen. The quiet and sensitive person I am in private has located a warrior inside, and unleashed him. Circumstances have forced me to fight, and I have come to rather relish it.

The same former friend taught me in any upheaval to pay attention to what isn’t changing. I tend to avoid writing about my own spiritual beliefs in public, especially as there is little agreement over terminology, and easy misunderstanding. Occam’s Mirror has, however, greatly clarified where I stand. What you worship — i.e. hold in such esteem that you are willing to die for — is your invariant “pole star”. I do not worship temporal institutions, and do not accept them as arbiters of morality or reality. The distress of the last few years has forced me to look inside and grasp my spiritual core, and acknowledge its unchanging relationship to the cosmos.

When I survey those around me, what do I see in the mirror? On the one hand, there are the egotistical ones, whose surface veneer of good manners and civil discourse hides a ruthless dedication to lazy selfishness and cowardly unaccountability. I now understand why pride is the worst of the sins, since it triggers an endless doubling down; the person who was conned cannot admit to it, so they magnify their error until the cost becomes catastrophic. Looking back, I can now see the origins of their own downfall, in a mix of wicked spirit, and early life trauma.

The people who we thought were friends turned out to be merely acquaintances with a shared context and past. They didn’t understand who we really are in terms of our values, and neither did we see them clearly for who they are. The scamdemic in particular has resolved such misconceptions, as you cannot hide whether you are a colluder or resister. Those with whom we share a blood relationship may have notionally been family, but many have belatedly realised there was no true love there, and that duty was one-way.

We are having to build new families of choice, as our families of origin have abandoned our delight in life for an adulation of death. Once someone starts to suffocate and imprison children, indoctrinate them into premature and perverse sexualisation, and inject them with poisons, there is no going back to how we used to relate. Occam’s Mirror has shown the stark divide between those willing to engage in human sacrifice, and those who will resist it with all their might — and make sacrifices to do so.

To discover that your parents or siblings will maim and sterilise their own children for group approval is disturbing, but at least we now know. No matter how difficult things have been, there is no way I would want to go back to the world we had 5, 15, or 25 years ago. I have looked in the mirror, and seen both the beauty and ugliness in far starker terms than ever before. I am no longer confused by claims that prettiness is putrid or vice versa. The transvestigated false idols in the mass media look hollow and pathetic. In contrast, fluffy clouds and fruity bushes have become magical wonders of everyday living.

I have found who my true friends are, and it is those who will not compromise when it comes to harming children. Each of us faces personal strife, life setbacks, and the occasional sagging morale. There has been a toll extracted by this psychological warfare, social division, and barbaric genocide. Yet none of these loyal friends ever discusses with me whether we should switch from the narrow to the broad path. The protection of the young from predation is literally the issue we are willing to die for. This clarity of purpose engenders a deep mutual trust; there is no cheap virtue signalling.

Whether it is photographic art, doggie rescue, shoe making, protest meetings, or vegetable gardening, there is always some kind of activity that we can turn to in order to generate routines, order, and stability among the chaos. When I look in the mirror at me and my collective, we have jettisoned a lot of the baggage of “successful professional progress”, and narrowed our lives down to a few things that really bring us joy through care and creativity. There has been a shift in what generates meaning, and the leisure pursuits of those still “in the matrix” seem bizarre and irrelevant.

For many of us, the dominant theme of The Great Awakening so far is “The Grating Waiting”. We know that the election fraud in America is being exposed; we know that the demon jabs will bring untold woe; we know that the mass media’s lies will collapse; we know that we’ve been subjected to biocide and poisoning; we know that everything hidden is being brought into the light for cleansing. Eventually…

The timelines are long because the alternative is civil war or relapse into tyranny; only the slow attrition of mind control can spring us from this prison of degraded consciousness. I have had to reframe patience from being a form of existential punishment into an achievement, in order for it to appeal more to my own attainment-seeking and impatient character. The waiting as become such an embedded feature of life one almost wonders how we will cope when the final torrent of shocking events hits us.

What I see in the mirror is how I and those close to me have found a (sufficient) place of inner peace and calm. We have been forced into radical acceptance of what is, and that all events, however awful, may have a higher purpose. From necessity have have had to learn forgiveness and detachment, while not abandoning unconditional love. The attacks upon us have made us police our boundaries vigorously, and let go of those relationships which no longer serve us. We may not be happy on any particular day, but we can always be choose to be grateful and aim for a more realistic contentment.

If anyone from the future wishes they could have been here to experience these events, I urge you not to get into that time travel machine for a temporal vacation in the early 2020s. It is a mess, and not a particularly endearing one. We have had to go through this difficult process of seeing ourselves, those close to us, and our society in the mirror, and it is not a pleasant picture. The paradox of change says we only transform when we fully identify with what is, so this “vision of the vile” was a mandatory preparation for the storm to come.

We are about to be called upon to comfort those whose illusions are shattered, bodies wrecked, and children poisoned. This process of uncomfortably staring at our own reflection has given us the grounding to know what is real and what is not, and what is “our personal nonsense” to own versus the madness of others. We have learned how to navigate ethical labyrinths by refusing to take the dead ends that lead us into harming others for our own interest. I trust future generations benefit from our critical self-examination in the mirror, but please — don’t regret having missed out.