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.
READ THE REST OF THIS ESSAY AT What I saw in Occam’s Mirror – by Martin Geddes
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