DISCERNMENT, AND THE WAR IN THE PIT OF OUR BELLIES
'The Right Kind of Sensitive Courage’ and ‘the Right Kind of Sensitive Humility’
Irish poet and essayist, Seán Ó Ríordáin (1916-1977). In the preface to his first collection, Eireaball Spideoige, he asks 'What is poetry?’, and answers ‘A child's mind’. We could do with the dignity and clarity of a child’s mind now. Above title published by Bloodaxe Books in association with Cló Iar-Chonnacht.
Three weeks ago, while working with a group and researching C-19 backstories, it happened that two people, in two distant locations in Ireland, ended up vomiting yellow bile in reaction to what we were coming to see and to understand: a previously unimaginable banality of evil is lurking around every medical corner in Ireland now. This is stealth war.
Joe and Fiona
Joe is 48, he is married with three kids. He lives in rural Ireland, has a decent job as a technician and is content enough with his personal life. A few years ago his marriage went through a rocky period. His wife Fiona had stayed at home to look after the children, and he felt that she had become so absorbed in the whole mothering thing that she hadn’t left much space for the wife part of herself, or for him. Anyway, they worked through things and the relationship improved. In late 2021 he wanted to take her away to Paris for 5 days, just him and her, no kids. He took the C-19 injection so he could travel without hassle, and he convinced her to do the same. She was very healthy and very against the whole injection thing, but she took it in consideration of the greater cause, saving their marriage.
Every weekday morning Joe’s alarm goes off at 6.45, but he usually sleeps through it. Fiona wakes up, puts her hand on his belly and says, 'Joe, c’mon, get up'. She goes back to sleep, and before he leaves for work he kisses her head. On Thursday 17th of February 2022, the alarm goes off, but Fiona doesn’t wake up. At 7.05 Joe wakes up, turns his head to see Fiona. She is cold, she is not breathing, she is dead. The rest of his life since then feels similar to the aftermath of both a high-impact crash and a large explosion.
In 2024 he is still only just functioning. Emotionally he is treading water — he still hasn’t cleared out her side of the wardrobe. In March there is a referendum about the definition of the word mother in our constitution. He knows what a mother is. He knows what love is. He now recognises that Fiona had given her all to mothering because she knew that this was the most intelligent thing to do in the world right now. How had he never seen what she was made of? She was solid gold, and she had been his, and he had not been able to see her fully when she was alive.
He doesn’t vote in the March referendum. Three months later in June there are local and European elections. Lots of candidates call to the door, they are pumped up with different kinds of talk. Some of them do the mass-immigration talk, but nobody does the C-19-injection talk. He doesn’t vote. He has something bigger to deal with, something deep and dark and awful in the pit of his belly: he was the one who had convinced her to take the injection, and now she is dead. Furthermore, his eldest daughter Áine, who has just moved away from home, had taken the injection so she could go to the pub with her friends. Now she has huge menstrual problems, and her new GP wants to put her on the pill. Fiona would have been dead set against that. She would have known how to help Áine, because she had all sorts of biologically-intelligent, medically-sound and pharma-free ways of healing the kids and herself. She hardly ever went to the doctor.
Joe is a man with a scream in his belly now, a scream so big it is still being born.
The New Privileged Class: the Jab Have-Nots
The C-19 injection scheme introduced a new division into our society. The injection-free minority are the new privileged class, the jab have-nots. They didn’t opt for Russian-roulette self-harm through a dangerous pharma product. And the injected people are the new underprivileged, the masses, the haves, who were duped/coerced into self-harming through the Corona terror-coercion propaganda campaign. The people of the government-medical-media establishment that manipulated their own people to follow a eugenics scheme are guilty of crimes against humanity. There are 20,000 post-injection deaths in Ireland now (irelandexcessdeaths.com). The establishment are watching the Joe-people of Ireland very carefully.
The first-generation Corona rebels who have risen up to fight the establishment since 2020 are mostly unjabbed people, the privileged class. Most of them pose no real threat to the establishment — they don’t talk much of crimes against humanity. Their speak is underpinned by a tone of ‘Whatever you say, say nothing’. Many of the unjabbed rebels are behaving like privileged classes have always behaved, unable and unwilling to relate directly to the masses, to the brutal change in psychology and biology these people have lived. So many of these rebels are not tuned into the collective, to the underground tremors and seismic shifts in thinking and feeling generated by mass murder. The establishment knows that the real threat lies in the jabbed masses, the individuals with a new darkness in the pit of bellies, the ones for whom the world has ‘all changed, changed utterly’.
Our Enemies Capture and Channel our Fight-back Thrusts
The C-19 genocide is a massive, historic evil, the kind of thing you’d read about in the Bible or in Greek mythology. The guilty establishment knows that it is not possible to completely bury the truth. They are aiming to merely prevent factual, C-19-genocide talk becoming normal for a long time. They have provided people with crammed and compelling, personally tailored, online information feeds that contain no C-19 injection facts. The constant digital-information overload reduces our discernment and erodes our sense of agency in the real world — psychological warfare.
People like Joe are not yet ready to transmute the darkness in the pit of their belly into a laser-sharp wrath to bring down the genocidist establishment. The government want to manage events so that they either capture and channel some of this inner wrath into other, non-genocide, valves, and/or they condition his world so that the darkness stays in his belly, so that it pollutes his psyche, so that he remains morally broken, and that his children are moulded to a brokenness that is comfortable with massive evil. The plan is to create a country of biologically dumbed-down, morally-lost, fuzzy-thinking, low-vibration people socially programmed to a drip-feed self-harm strategies that herd us into bio-digital surveillance gulags under a totalitarian one-world government rule.
The local and European elections were to be in June 2024. The government channeled our inner wrath into a silly-themed referendum at only three months before these elections. Ostensibly, they wanted the people to vote ‘Yes’, but in reality they wanted the ‘No’ vote to win. The referendum battle galvanised anti-globalist factions to concentrate all their energies into the No-vote campaign, away from the C-19-eugenics issue. The government waited until the No-vote campaign was established before they produced their Yes-vote propaganda. Staunch pro-establishment people were not accessing independent media or No-vote information. And so, the mainstream media wheeled out legal expert Michael McDowell to explain why the people should vote ‘No’. McDowell is the privately-educated grandson of the Gaelic-scholar, Irish revolutionary Eoin MacNeill.
This worked. The ‘No’ vote won. The anti-globalist fighters got a bit high on the win. Some of them started to puff out their chests and declared they would stand for election in June — sure why not? The timing was crucial, the government had manipulated rebels to enjoy false confidence, but with only a short lead-in time to the June elections. They did not have time to scan the horizon or to develop a mature political philosophy. It was all a bit knee-jerk and lacking in depth.
The government got the thing they wanted and needed: the majority of these rebel, new candidates were the new privileged, and they shunned the C-19-injection issue like the plague. This became the social-contagion, dominant groupthink of the entire fightback campaign, and consolidated genocide shirking in almost every camp. Only a handful of candidates had the courage to relate to the dark new evil and to openly mention the C-19 facts on campaign flyers. The others were suppressing the truth of their own people.
Afterwards, some of the failed rebel candidates cried boo hoo and claimed that the masses were stupid not to have voted them into power. The masses were experiencing seismic changes in their world view, many had a new darkness in their bellies. The collective was shifting into a new psychological terrain, and people are still unsure of their footing in this new place. The masses did what unsure people do, they chose familiar faces — better the devil you know.
Revolution Biorhythms and the Time for Bold Moves
History repeats itself because we do not discern the elemental forces or the dynamics of power and oppression operating in our own era.
Over a hundred years ago, Pádraic Pearse used to spend as much time as possible speaking Gaeilge with the peasants of Galway, the custodians of our Gaelic psyche, on the fringes of society. He spent years maturing his revolutionary philosophy. During the GPO fight in 1916, Pearse was channelling the masculine spirit of Cú Chulainn and the feminine spirit of Gráinne Mhaol — he had the volunteers singing Oró Sé Do Bheatha ‘Bhaile, which he had rewritten to focus on Gráinne Mhaol. He marshalled these unmitigated primordial forces right into the centre of the battle, because that’s the kind of rooted soul superpower you need to actualise if you are going to eyeball the largest empire in the world.
Pearse had discerned ‘the thing that is coming’, a seismic shift in the collective consciousness. In the lead up to 1916 there had been two ideological thrusts fighting for Ireland. The tamer faction veered towards Home Rule and the more revolutionary faction wanted separation from Britain. The 1916 executions changed everything and galvanised more public support for separation, for a republic. The 1917 East Clare by-election was a turning point. When well-known revolutionary candidates, such as Eoin MacNeill, were being proposed, the local military Volunteers came forward and said ‘No’. They asserted that Clare needed candidates who had actually fought, they wanted ‘fighting men’ and not ‘shirkers’. This was a new juncture — bold political representation of the military fighters. The relatively unknown De Valera was chosen as the man who had fought in the Rising. He campaigned in military uniform and was voted in by a large majority. He went on to dominate political life in Ireland for the next 50 years.
Joe has had his life turned upside down. He now has huge new inner musterings of betrayal and grief, and much of his old belief system has been thrown under the bus. He has revised his core concepts about how the world works, but he still has a tangle of new-thought threads hanging about in the air above him.
People like Joe know that Irish GPs were paid highly to continue denying the medical reality of injection deaths and injuries. The people of the medical industry eagerly carried out a pharma scheme that was obviously harming and killing their own people. It is clear now that everyone in government and media was hive-minded to the pumped-up, pro-injection groupthink. If any of those people had dignity or respect for human life, they would have stood up three years ago. But they didn’t do the right thing, and now we can see what they are made of. The country is riddled with unethical, reality-denying, genocide-endorsing rats. Jesus wept, but Joe doesn’t see people stating the truth publicly.
The truth is gut-wrenchingly ugly and difficult. Many people just can’t deal with it…yet. Those who can bypass the C-19-genocide awfulness are our shirkers, and those who are compelled to attend to the darkness in the pit of their bellies are the fighting men of today. So now we have general elections coming up. The civilisation-destroying government wants one thing: a lot of shirker candidates, or fake-rebel types who jump late on the C-19-outrage bandwagon. The masses know the injection killed some people, but they aren’t yet fully aware that there was no pandemic in real terms in this country. The non-injected did not suffer as predicted. That’s the establishment-protecting bubble no public figure is willing to tackle — shame.
We need fighting people and political candidates with a mature philosophy, people who care about the C-19 darkness injected into our society. We need people capable of bold actions, people prepared to eyeball the establishment about our genocide. We need people who can discern underground tremors and changes in the air. We need individuals and groups who are wired to serve the people, the jabbed masses. We are fighting the largest and most sophisticated psychological warfare imaginable, and we need people who can think big, think deep, think history and think future. Most of the rebel big talkers have shoved genocide-talk to the fringes, into the taboo zone of the collective. They are trampling on dignity and respect for human life. We need military-grade discernment, or as the writer Patrick Kavanagh, outlined in The Parish and the Universe, ‘the right kind of sensitive humility’…and ‘the right kind of sensitive courage’.
When the Big Truth is Taboo, Society is Sick
I have crudely translated a verse from the poem Ní Ceadmhach Neamhshuim by Seán Ó Ríordáin. This poem recognises the interconnectedness of all life. This selected verse asserts that we exist as a collective, and that the people on the fringes carry madness so as to balance the whole. I believe that the so-called, highly-functioning people in the centre have eradicated so much expression of truth from the public commentary space that they have generated a groupthink forcefield that shoves the bolder, truth-clinging souls to the fringes.
Crude translation of a verse from Seán Ó Ríordáin’s poem Ní Ceadmhach Neamhshuim:
Indifference Not Permitted
Of all the mad auld fellas in the Mad Valley, Gleann na Gealt, there isn’t one of them that we shouldn’t be sitting with, spending time and being with him. This is the right thing to do, because those men carry the burden of sickness in the head, but they do this also for us.
Original verse from Ní Ceadmhach Neamhshuim, by Seán Ó Ríordáin
‘Níl gealt i ngleann na ngealt,
Nár chuí dhúinn suí lena ais,
Á thionlacan an fhaid
A iompraíonn thar ár gceann,
Ár dtinneas-ne ’na mheabhair.’
If we continue to permit the genocide-shirking rebels to assert dominance as the new establishment, and collude to generate a dominant groupthink that suppresses expression of the current C-19 atrocities, then we are repeating precisely the same pattern of censorship and oppression of last-century theocratic Ireland, and we will become an island with so many of us sick in the head, psychologically broken and popping pills. Currently it is estimated that 10% of people in Ireland take antidepressants (precise data is unavailable). Cue nanny-state and media focus on the trending themes of ‘wellbeing’ and ‘mental health’, to both capture and camouflage the massive, psyche-searing, psychological trauma currently being inflicted upon the entire country.
In psychological warfare, the acts of speaking, writing and spreading factual descriptions of reality that are concise, nuanced and detailed, are now military actions. This is how we assert dominance for dignity and respect for human life. This is how we work to prevent massive trauma and brokenness being coded into the psyches of the next generation.
When Sinéad O’Connor ripped up a photo of the Pope on live American TV in 1992, people didn’t know how to react in the moment, but they did know how to cancel her afterwards. The photo she tore was the one that had hung above her mother’s bed — a thing with echoes of betrayal and grief.
Joe Minus Fiona
Joe’s wife Fiona’s used to love listening to a version of Oró Sé Do Bheatha ‘Bhaile sung by Sinéad O’Conor. One evening last month, he decided to do some Fiona things. He pulled up the Sinéad video on Youtube. Wow, it had 7 m views. He watched it all, and he cried like a baby. He felt something so real inside, something that talked directly to the darkness in his belly — the darkness that was injected into his psyche by our own people who were 'díolta leis na Gallaibh'. When Sinead came to those words in the song, she let rip, it came right up from the pit of her belly — no better woman. Sure hadn’t she been the one to tear up a picture of the Pope on live TV in America. She was the only one to eyeball the head of the Vatican empire for the awful things they had done to children. She did the big, bold, taboo thing, and she did it for heart-felt, ethical reasons. Afterwards she had faced social and professional execution. Joe drank now of her Gaelic feminine spirit.
In the last year, Joe has seen a lot of facts about the dangerous C-19 shot and videos about other anti-Ireland issues such as mass immigration. Joe drives past the rural GP’s surgery every day. He remembers when Fiona had a miscarriage in 2018. Afterwards she had met the GP on the street and he had been kind and understanding. He told her that his own wife had also had a miscarriage, and so he really knew how it affected women. Joe had recognised that he himself had not been good with the whole miscarriage thing, and he had felt a pang of jealousy when Fiona softened as she spoke about the doctor. Joe had thought that the man was a bit too good-looking and a bit too full of charm, the kind of fella who weasels his way effortlessly into the world of women. Fiona didn’t trust pharma. And so when it came to taking the shot, she said that she would feel safer if she was injected by the GP at his surgery. It would allow her to suss his vibe about the jab and to ask a few medical questions, because, after all, she trusted him.
Sometimes Joe is driving past when the GP is coming out into the enclosed car park to call in the next patient. The friendly, business-man doctor hasn’t allowed people into his waiting room since 2020 — no chatting with other patients, no opportunity to tell each other of injection horrors, or to bond over C-19 trauma. Joe noted that the doctor had put a new sign on the wall surrounding the premises, on the side of the road. The sign reads ‘No Parking’. Joe wonders if the doctor has the right to put that sign up, he doesn’t own the side of the road. Joe often imagines himself entering the doctor’s surgery, pinning him up against the wall and doing the things that good men do to bad men. The plan would require a quick getaway, which would require him to park on the side of the road, not inside the enclosed car-park area. The recently-erected ‘No Parking’ sign says more to Joe than any of the rebel voices have ever said.
’…the thing that is coming'.
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