This unconventional war leaves us in a “liminal stalemate” that we must outlast
No writing!
On Monday I sat down and didn’t do any work. On Tuesday I sat down and had a discussion about why I didn’t do any work on Monday. Now it is Wednesday, and I am sitting down to write an essay about what I have learned when it comes to not doing any work. At some point I may do some work, and this is part of the process of transmuting the dark energy so I can engage with it. I hope that by sharing it helps others with the same struggle.
Many of you will be familiar with the seminal material on communist subversion and demoralisation by Yuri Bezmenov. Once you bombard people with fear messages and get them to supplicate themselves to absurdist propaganda, then they enter a state of dependency to authority from which they never recover. We experienced the initial stages of a full-blown totalitarian takeover with Covid (and possibly a last gasp effort to seize power yet to come), which attempted to install a worldwide bio-digital tyranny.
That I am writing this at all is testimony to extraordinary benevolent forces unseen. I have not been shipped off to a death camp, forcibly reeducated, gangstalked into oblivion, starved into submission, or terrorised into compliance. To be able to tinker around with council tax, television licensing, and clean air zone fines is an absolute luxury. That said, it is a real war that has real casualties, even if the weapons are quiet and the battles are silent. We are threatened with pervasive poisons, novel WMDs, financial collapse, weaponised nanotech, and electronic warfare.
The deadline is approaching for me to file for a judicial review of the fraudulent activities of Newcastle City Council and the Traffic Penalty Tribunal, who collude to extort money from the public on a false pretext. They explicitly don’t care about breaking the law — “no room” to consider it — and the council dares me to seek justice via the last resort method, ignoring any ethical requirement to respond to reasoned complaint. When I sit down to work on this, I find myself freezing up; there is trauma accumulated inside of me from all of the corruption I have confronted.
As a child I was a sensitive boy, and underneath nothing has really changed. Being an empath, I absorb all these energies from the psychopaths. I feel the abuse of the minions who are doing wicked work for a salary and pension, but that degrades them. I sense the wrongness of fear porn in the media. Meanwhile, the demoralisation attacks have been ongoing for years — face mask brainwashing, libelled in the press, denied free speech. There is a deadweight loss we experience in processing them all. We are winning a war of attrition, but you are still attrited. (It’s a proper English word, I just checked!)
That the state now wants fresh financial tributes for us exercising inalienable rights, having tried to kill or enslave us, is tragicomic — yet all too real. Each individual in these systems sees themselves as doing no evil, as they comply with administrative procedure, and do not see those in a similar position facing trial or punishment. I am being forced into responding and resisting, on pain of having my personal transport seized and taken away from me. Poverty, injustice, and isolation affect our health. The notional goal of clean air in the city is used to harm the psychological wellbeing of me out in the yonder. Their purpose is the pain, not the profit.
Inside of me there is a battle of spirit, mind, and body. The spirit says I must not comply at any cost — these crooks in official garb have to be opposed with all my will, and defeated in court if necessary and possible. My elderly mother may say that she’ll pay these illegitimate and unfair fines just so she doesn’t have to worry about me, but that’s the exact opposite of my innate desire! I was born a stubborn Taurean, and it isn’t changing. The absolute limit of my spirit is to let the council steal my car off me for non-payment, and the karma be on them.
Meanwhile, my mind oscillates between the “autist” who wants to get on with the job of organising the paperwork and compulsively arranging information, and the “strategist” who sees that we’re on the verge of a financial reset and likely jubilee, and wonders if this is actually his battle to fight. That nobody (via the usual plausibly deniable channels) is quietly counselling “anons” to pay attention to filing taxes and paying fines tells me all I need to know. These won’t be problems soon, and once someone “flips the switch” we are into a new accountable and constitutional world.
The part that I hadn’t considered properly is my body. These are all pictures of my body! You can’t make photographs of my spirit or mind. My emotions are felt in my body. The disgust at the betrayal of the public is an embodied sensation in my gut. The anger at being forced into debt slavery is somewhere around my chest. Even the ongoing sensation of being poisoned by the leaking exhaust on my car is felt in my head, with the slight aroma of burnt diesel in my inflamed sinuses. When I sit down to work and cannot engage, that is my body giving me feedback, like an injured steeplechase racehorse that doesn’t want to leap another fence.
The longer you are immersed in the toxic fumes of corruption, the sicker you become. The dark energy and low vibes rub off onto you. There is a price for fighting back in their system, and maintaining your resolute spirit, and that cost is in both mind and body. I could have made it all go away for three payments of £12.50, but I couldn’t live with myself afterwards if I did. There are times when a tactical compromise is needed — I still pay my road tax to avoid being stopped when on missions of a higher purpose. But there is a red line, and I am cannot pay this travel mafia off; the principle involved is priceless. Losing my car to them is no shame on me.
In order to combat the demoralisation process, and the sickness in mind and body, I have found that photography lets the “sensitive little boy” go out to play. It isn’t just creative imagery as a hobby or job, it is trauma therapy and stress management. The walking itself helps me to shift the leaden feeling of yet more forced administrative horrors, applying my skills to deadening activities. It is not just me seeking a healthy mind in a healthy body, but recognising that a warrior spirit has to be balanced with the physical limits of my own temple. Just because we aren’t kitted out in fatigues and high-tech combat gear doesn’t mean we aren’t in an existential mind war.
I have people reaching out to me all the time with distressing stories of social isolation, gangster bailiffs, corrupt courts, false imprisonment, medical malpractice, targeted harassment, theft of vehicles, marital meltdowns, kids going woke, and plenty more. It takes a toll on me, and I gateway anyone who sucks energy. The work we do is as much emotional as anything else, and a wise person once told me that emotional work is exhausting hard work. We each confront a constant trade-off between keeping going, and not destroying yourself by proceeding when too worn down or poorly resourced. The official nagging for our energy feels endless.
I gave up art at school as soon as I could since I wasn’t gifted at it; manual dexterity with pen and paper isn’t my thing, it is mental agility that I am good at. A kind reader once got me an iPad with a digital pen, but I struggled as the lack of tactile feedback made it even harder for me to use, not easier. My photos let me “make love to the world” and bring back moments of beauty to share. Knowing that my effort will offer relief to others suffering under the same oppression makes it all the sweeter. Art is essential to my “remoralisation” process. I would probably have succumbed to self-destructive tendencies if it wasn’t for my cameras.
I am glad the younger Martin was oblivious to the years and years of injustice that lay ahead of him. Nescience and naivety gave him space to explore and discover who he is, without having to carry too much of the worldly worries. My sense is that events are going to overtake whatever it is inside me that blocks my way with this judicial review filing. That the energies don’t feel aligned is alright; I don’t have to take on every battle. If I get it done in time for the deadline in a fortnight, that’s great. If I don’t, then maybe some of these people will face asset forfeiture for human rights abuses as they knew what they were doing, and people like me warned them it was organised crime.
What I have noticed in recent weeks is that my efforts to seek justice are constrained by my sense of safety. The spirit can dream of resolution and reconciliation; the mind can plot ways of achieving it; but the body is the critic that makes the risk case and holds a veto. When my car is broken down, I feel less safe. When I don’t have money to rent a replacement, I feel less safe. When I am not confident the air inside is clean to breathe, I feel less safe. The metaphorical fumes of injustice cannot be taken on at the same time as the literal exhaust in my lungs. If my body is saying “no”, I should listen to it, even if my spirit urges me on.
We are meant to live life in blissful divine unions, with loving family in easy reach, and health being the norm — and we’re just starting the cultural journey back. It has been a privilege to watch the entrapment and exposure of these tyrannical rulers who wished to enslave and extinguish us, as well as to participate in the military-civilian alliance to save humanity. Nonetheless, it isn’t down to Martin to take down the administrative tribunals. That I am allowed to “play” at seeking accountability against this violent mafia is enough, so I can learn and grow. If the demoralisation process is catching up on me, or you, then there is no loss of face in focusing on restoring ourselves and seeking what brings us inner peace instead.
All you have to do is outlast these lying and thieving bastards, not personally defeat them. Once the financial system blows up, and their fiat money is taken away, the gangsters cannot pay their bribes and mercenaries. There is no shortage of evidence that a new and better system of finance and governance is coming, albeit with a period of turmoil, danger, and hardship to get there. The enemy puts its energy into demoralising you, and you have a choice over whether to accept its offers and engage. My own life lesson is that we need balance: we win the war through our daily “remoralisation” efforts to find joy and happiness.
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