Satanists, satanists, all around.

Once you see it there is no going back.

The sun rose earlier this morning because it’s May and the days are getting longer. The cat always nuzzles into me, wanting his breakfast, and as the year has turned, his nuzzles have gotten earlier and earlier with the rising sun.

I feel around for my glasses, find them and put them on. Siting up with pillow behind me, it takes a few minutes to focus. Then, at the cat’s insistence, I swing myself around and onto my feet, trundle over to the corner wall and find my slippers, then plod down the stairs to get the cat his food.

The dog always greets me in the kitchen with tail wagging, hopeful of any leftover scraps the cat may not want. I get the cat’s breakfast and then open the door to the garden and step outside for my first breath of air. That moment - a light breeze on my face, birds chirping around me, the sounds of urban life in the morning - I love it, because my tinnitus takes second stage, it gradually fades to the background. I can come back into myself, and ground into my body, into my identity. Into this reality. This life, whatever it is. I focus on the birds, the cars outside, the rustling of the leaves through my apple tree.  I feel my feet on earth, I come back from wherever it was that I went.

Having tinnitus at night is like falling into a deep pit filled with noise. It is disorientating at times, irritating at times, and deeply distressing at other times. Thankfully less of the distress as time passes. Sometimes, it is so loud I loose myself in it. Hence my being slow to wake. At best, I wake up knowing where I am. I have not woken up sharp and focused in a very long time. It’s been 6 years now, and the intensity of the noise, plus my sensitivity to it is hard to predict. I share this here because it is relevant to where I am going to today. Perhaps losing myself in a swirling cacophony of noise that’s inside my head, noise that nobody else can hear, has helped me disassociate from the other aspects of this reality.

Now I sit with computer in the sun, with tea, and write this Substack. There is a lot on my mind - much to do with identity, much to do with the nature of this reality. But let’s start with last night. The Eurovision.

We loved the show growing up, the music was on the radio long before the competition night and we would listen to the songs so we would be familiar. It made us more invested. We had Eurovision parties in the house when the children were all smaller - popcorn and yes, they could even stay up late for the voting. Even then I could see it was all political but we were invested in the music, so we allowed ourselves to be carried away with the faux excitement. Yesterday was the first time I didn’t want my youngest two to watch it. Myself and my husband took our youngest out for dinner and he brought her on a visit to her granny’s house. My second youngest really wanted to see it, and I didn’t argue when she said her closest friends were having a Eurovision sleepover party at one of their houses and she wanted to go.

I felt bad not letting my youngest girl watch it, but in a way, I also felt justified in it, a righteous kind of feeling - the energy of the whole event has gone completely wrong. The Irish entry was undoubtably a satanic ritual and I didn’t want to give it my energy by giving it my attention. I watched the narrative around it on X and Facebook - all over the internet, it was plain, to me anyway, that the people that loved this ‘song’ (I should say ritual act), have already sold their souls. The people that hated it knew exactly what it was. It’s a good litmus test. If you liked the entry, we see you.

As well as not wanting my children to watch, it was the first time that I didn’t want Ireland to win. There’s a chink in my identity armour. There was a whole cohort of Irish deeply, deeply insulted by this act, and nobody ‘in power’ cared. Insults and discrimination work well for those that weaponise them.

I knew I was not alone. But I didn’t know that the children could also see.

I was texting my second youngest at her party during the voting, just to see how she was getting on, (yes old habits die hard, too many chips at the identity all at one, you need to go back and check that you were correct in letting them go). My girl said that the Irish entry was ‘weird’. I picked up the disturbed tone from her text, so I wrote back to her and told her it was satanic and that the energy was very bad. She’s a connoisseur of horror movies, as are many children her age, so I thought she would understand what I meant. She agreed, then texted me again asking if I could fix her energy after watching it. She’s never asked me before. I told her I could, and a moment later, she texted again, asking if I could clear all of her friends too. I said I would but I needed their permission. Permission was given enthusiastically. This lifted my heart - the kids are alright. They really are - they all knew it was off, and off in the most sinister way. This image of Ireland as progressive satan worshipers is a vacuous empty bubble of a thing that is about to pop. It is not who we are and I refuse to buy into it.

I could leave this here - but I have more to say. As always!!

The aurora from the other night - more signs of the times we are in. Great changes afoot. Everyone coming together, soul sold or not, to share photographs of a wondrous sight. Including me.

Then, as it does, something went viral to ruin it. An image saying HAARP is doing tests. I won’t share it here as I am not going to give it more energy, but to say that another fight ensues amongst the ‘truthers’ on the internet. Was this image created deliberately to split apart the people who were in awe of a “natural phenomenon”? Created to deliberately sabotage the joy? Is it natural? Is it man-made? Will the aura hurt us?

I’m back - focused in my garden - watching a bee checking out my dahlias. I planted dahlias but I can’t wait for them to blossom so I bought a couple already in flower from the garden centre. The bee is real, or is it Ai? The flower, real? Or a figment of my imagination? What actually is real? I sip my tea. Is that real? Or do I just think it is because I’m conditioned to believe it? It tastes hot, and like tea, the dark flavours that I expect roll off my tongue.

Unpopular opinion perhaps, but I don’t think that humans have the ability to create the spectacle that we saw in our sky the other night. I think that someone is either taking the piss, or trying to take credit off the back of it (HAARP that powerful?? Really??), or trying to further divide us by spreading misinformation and disappointment to disempower us, and feed the beast.

Satanic Eurovision. Man made aurora. Where is this leading to? In the same direction that’s for sure. And now I come full circle - all of this is designed to lead us away from God. 

You get to choose what you believe. This is a choice-point. Do you want God in your life? This is the only question that warrants our full dedication, focus and attention. The only question that really matters.

If I’m living in a firmament with waters above and waters below, then so be it. If I’m on a whirling ball in space corkscrewing through nothingness surrounded by its solar system family, then so be it. If I live in a toroidal field, energies swirling around me coming into form as material objects, then let me be surrounded by beauty. I didn’t make any of this, yet I made all of it. It depends which angle you are looking at.

In my world the sun is shining, my dahlia’s are growing. and there are solar flares. Solar flares that remind us that there is something greater than us that we cannot control. What is the sun? Maybe it is God. Maybe it is made by aliens. I don’t get attached. There is no point. Whatever the sun truly is, is either for me to know, or not. All I know is that I choose God. I choose God in every moment, over everything else. And at night, I fall into my pit of chaos and noise, knowing that I am in God’s hands. It tempers me. And some of the time, I trust his plan for me more than I trust myself. I dance with faith, it’s a living, breathing thing, and it is not fixed. Nothing is fixed.

I step away from the Eurovision, from satanic rites and rituals, from the fake witchcraft that has suddenly appeared on my instagram feed. I embrace my children asking for their energy to be cleared, and I clear them, and I clear anyone else who asks me to clear them. And I sit with God in my garden, God in my house, God in my heart. I know that when I die I will have lived my life in the best way that I can. And that’s the only thing that I can be sure of at this point in time.