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Read or Condemn Yourself to Death by Ignorance

For those courageous souls brave enough to look and see what is,

who are unwilling to blindly accept

the lies and rules of tyrannical authority.

The simple step of a courageous individual is not to take part in the lie.

One word of truth outweighs a world of lies.


Observation And Integrity

Wednesday 8th September 2021


G’day,

Hope this finds you fit and well.

I know a bunch of teachers will thank you for signing this petition supporting their right to choose!

https://www.change.org/p/nsw-minister-for-education-early-childhood-learning-sarah-mitchell-no-mandatory-vaccinations-for-teachers-students

Here is a sampling of what recently crossed my digital desk.

I hope you get something from it!

Say NO! To Vaccine Passports!

Two Govt Maintenance Guys

Rudolf Nureyev on Dance

Monks Wood Wilderness: 60 years ago, scientists let a farm field rewild – here’ what happened

Not On Page One

Duplicity

Seeds

Live Not In Fear

The Futility Of Laws

I Do Not Help My Wife

Of Course All Scientists Agree

Wise Words From Chief Tecumseh

Pfizer’s Confidential Government Contract Reveals Jaw-Dropping Terms

“Borders is Closing (A Saturday afternoon; and the passing of a friend.)”

More Than Enough

Cheers!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Say NO! To Vaccine Passports!
 
 
 
 

Yeahhh....

So that’s the Mike Yeadon ex Chief Scientist and President of Pfizer. The company with the most massive level of fines ever. The company who’s poison so many have already taken. Don’t listen to me! But if you want to argue I’d speak to Dr Yeadon.

“#SAYNOTOVACCINEPASSPORTS Just keep pushing back!

“It’s far better for mental health & personal resilience if we just face up to the fact that this isn’t under the control of our government.

All governments suffered a technocratic coup d’etat at the same time last spring.

It probably didn’t feel like a coup, but it was, when each country’s equivalent of SAGE said “look: you need to follow the science or we will all be doomed”.

Since March 2020, I’ve seen nothing from almost anywhere that discords with the idea that unelected, unaccountable individuals are driving the bulk of the important events, almost everywhere.

In light of that possibility, there’s no point in lobbying government. They don’t have the freeboard to do other than follow their script (the power over them might be threats, or bribes, or even beliefs, but they’re no longer autonomous in important ways).

So they’ll continue pushing dangerous vaccines.

Lockdowns are inevitable.

More fear porn, censorship.

Vaccine passports will be introduced.

That is the moment where our entire civilisation chooses.

If we comply, and permit VaxPass to regulate access to food, we are under totalitarian tyranny from which no escape is possible.

To disengage afterwards means starvation.

If you’re sceptical, run the thought experiment.”

Mike Yeadon

 
 
 
 
Two Govt Maintenance Guys
 
Two Govt Maintenance Guys
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Rudolf Nureyev on Dance
 
Rudolf Nureyev
 
 
 

Excerpts from a letter Rudolf Nureyev wrote, to the dance community about his own life as a dancer, while dying of AIDS:

“It was the smell of my skin changing, it was getting ready before class, it was running away from school and after working in the fields with my dad because we were ten brothers, walking those two kilometers to dance school.

I would never have been a dancer, I couldn’t afford this dream, but I was there, with my shoes worn on my feet, with my body opening to music, with the breath making me above the clouds. It was the sense I gave to my being, it was standing there and making my muscles words and poetry, it was the wind in my arms, it was the other guys like me that were there and maybe wouldn’t be dancers, but we swapped the sweat, silences, barely.

For thirteen years I studied and worked, no auditions, nothing, because I needed my arms to work in the fields. But I didn’t care: I learned to dance and dance because it was impossible for me not to do it, it was impossible for me to think I was elsewhere, not to feel the earth transforming under my feet plants, impossible not to get lost in music, impossible not not to get lost in music using my eyes to look in the mirror, to try new steps.

Everyday I woke up thinking about the moment I would put my feet inside my slippers and do everything by tasting that moment. And when I was there, with the smell of camphor, wood, tights, I was an eagle on the rooftop of the world, I was the poet among poets, I was everywhere and I was everything.

I remember a ballerina Elèna Vadislowa, rich family, well taken care of, beautiful. She wanted to dance as much as I did, but later I realized it wasn’t like that. She danced for all the auditions, for the end of the course show, for the teachers watching her, to pay tribute to her beauty.

Two years prepared for the Djenko contest. The expectations were all about her. Two years she sacrificed part of his life. She didn’t win the contest. She stopped dancing, forever. She didn’t resist. That was the difference between me and her.

I used to dance because it was my creed, my need, my words that I didn’t speak, my struggle, my poverty, my crying. I used to dance because only there my being broke the limits of my social condition, my shyness, my shame. I used to dance and I was with the universe on my hands, and while I was at school, I was studying, arraising the fields at six am, my mind endured because it was drunk with my body capturing the air.

I was poor, and they paraded in front of me guys performing for pageants, they had new clothes, they made trips. I didn’t suffer from it, my suffering would have been stopping me from entering the hall and feeling my sweat coming out of the pores of my face. My suffering would have been not being there, not being there, surrounded by that poetry that only the sublimation of art can give. I was a painter, poet, sculptor.

The first dancer of the year-end show got hurt. I was the only one who knew every move because I sucked, quietly every step. They made me wear his new, shiny clothes and dictated me after thirteen years, the responsibility to demonstrate. Nothing was different in those moments I danced on stage, I was like in the hall with my clothes off. I was and I used to perform, but it was dancing that I cared.

The applause reached me far away. Behind the scenes, all I wanted was to take off the uncomfortable tights, but everyone’s compliments and I had to wait. My sleep wasn’t different from other nights. I had danced and whoever was watching me was just a cloud far away on the horizon.

From that moment my life changed, but not my passion and need to dance. I kept helping my dad in the fields even though my name was on everyone’s mouth. I became one of the brightest stars in dance.

Now I know I’m going to die, because this disease doesn’t forgive, and my body is trapped in a pram, blood doesn’t circulate, I lose weight. But the only thing that goes with me is my dance my freedom to be.

I’m here, but I dance with my mind, fly beyond my words and my pain. I dance my being with the wealth I know I have and will follow me everywhere: that I have given myself the chance to exist above effort and have learned that if you experience tiredness and effort dancing, what if you dance sits for effort, if we pity our bleeding feet, if we chase only the aim and don’t understand the full and unique pleasure of moving, we don’t understand the deep essence of life, where the meaning is in its becoming and not in appearing.

Every man should dance, for life. Not being a dancer, but dancing.

Who will never know the pleasure of walking into a hall with wooden bars and mirrors, who stops because they don’t get results, who always needs stimulus to love or live, hasn’t entered the depths of life, and will abandon every time life won’t give him what he wants.

It’s the law of love: you love because you feel the need to do it, not to get something or to be reciprocated, otherwise you’re destined for unhappiness.

I’m dying, and I thank God for giving me a body to dance so that I wouldn’t waste a moment of the wonderful gift of life.”

 
 
 
 
Monks Wood Wilderness: 60 years ago, scientists let a farm field rewild – here’s what happened
 
Monks Wood Wilderness
 
 
 

In the archive of the UK Centre for Ecology & Hydrology there is a typed note from the 1960s that planted the seed of an idea.

Written by Kenneth Mellanby, director of the Monks Wood Experimental Station, a former research centre in Cambridgeshire, UK, the note describes a four-hectare arable field that lies next to the station and the ancient woodland of the Monks Wood National Nature Reserve. After harvesting a final barley crop, the field was ploughed and then abandoned in 1961.

The note reads:

It might be interesting to watch what happens to this area if man does not interfere. Will it become a wood again, how long will it take, which species will be in it?

So began the Monks Wood Wilderness experiment, which is now 60 years old. A rewilding study before the term existed, it shows how allowing land to naturally regenerate can expand native woodland and help tackle climate change and biodiversity loss.

 
Button
 
 
 
Not On Page One
 
Not On Page One
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Duplicity
 
Duplicity
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Seeds
 
Seeds
 
 
 

“When you eat fruit, don’t throw seeds, dry them, put them in a bag and leave them in the car. When you go for a drive throw them into an area where they can germinate and grow to fruit bearing trees.”

 
 
 
 
Live Not In Fear
 
Live Not In Fear
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
The Futility Of Laws
 
The Futility Of Laws
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
I Do Not Help My Wife
 
I Do Not Help My Wife
 
 
 

A friend came to my house for coffee, we sat and talked about life. At some point in the conversation, I said, “I’m going to wash the dishes and I’ll be right back.”

He looked at me as if I had told him I was going to build a space rocket. Then he said to me with admiration but a little perplexed: “I’m glad you help your wife, I do not help because when I do, my wife does not praise me. Last week I washed the floor and no thanks.”

I went back to sit with him and explained that I did not “help” my wife. Actually, my wife does not need help, she needs a partner. I am a partner at home and through that society are divided functions, but it is not a “help” to do household chores.

I do not help my wife clean the house because I live here too and I need to clean it too.

I do not help my wife to cook because I also want to eat and I need to cook too.

I do not help my wife wash the dishes after eating because I also use those dishes.

I do not help my wife with her children because they are also my children and my job is to be a father.

I do not help my wife to wash, spread or fold clothes, because the clothes are also mine and my children.

I am not a help at home, I am part of the house. And as for praising, I asked my friend when it was the last time after his wife finished cleaning the house, washing clothes, changing bed sheets, bathing her children, cooking, organizing, etc. You said thank you.

But a thank you of the type: Wow, sweetheart !!! You are fantastic!!!

Does that seem absurd to you? Are you looking strange? When you, once in a lifetime, cleaned the floor, you expected in the least, a prize of excellence with great glory … why? You never thought about that, my friend?

Maybe because for you, the macho culture has shown that everything is her job.

Perhaps you have been taught that all this must be done without having to move a finger? Then praise her as you wanted to be praised, in the same way, with the same intensity. Give her a hand, behave like a true companion, not as a guest who only comes to eat, sleep, bathe and satisfy needs … Feel at home. In his house.

The real change of our society begins in our homes, let us teach our sons and daughters the real sense of fellowship!
---Hawk---

 
 
 
 
Of Course All Scientists Agree
 
Of Course All Scientists Agree
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Wise Words From Chief Tecumseh
 
Wise Words From Chief Tecumseh
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
Pfizer’s Confidential Government Contract Reveals Jaw-Dropping Terms
 
Vaccine Dollars
 
 
 

Ehdan Biber, an information-security expert, discovered a Pfizer confidential government contract on an Albanian website that is so heavily biased that it literally converts governments into agents of Pfizer.

Biber wrote that Ivermectin, an anti-parasite medicine that has been used successfully in several countries against COVID, was suppressed because the Pfizer contract requires that, even if a drug is found to treat COVID-19 effectively, the contract to continue buying products from Pfizer cannot be voided.

The contract requires governments to commit to paying for the products even if they are not shipped on time, and no products may be returned. Governments must acknowledge that the effectiveness and potential adverse effects and injuries are unknown.

The contract is written to supersede any local law of the state. It stipulates that the ’Purchaser (meaning the government) hereby agrees to indemnify, DEFEND AND HOLD HARMLESS Pfizer, BioNTech (and) their Affiliates…from and against any and all suits, claims, actions, demands, losses, damages, liabilities, settlements, penalties, fines, costs and expenses…’

The contract says that there is no limit to the immunity from prosecution bestowed upon Pfizer even if the company commits fraud.

Finally, if the purchasing government fails to enforce these defenses on behalf of Pfizer, a court in New York has the authority and capacity to take the physical assets of that country and transfer them to Pfizer.

One of the most stunning clauses stipulates: “If there are any laws or regulations in your country under which Pfizer could be prosecuted, you agree to CHANGE THE LAW OR REGULATION to close that off.”

 
Button
 
 
 
“Borders is Closing (A Saturday afternoon; and the passing of a friend.)”
 
Derelict Library
 
 
 

“Borders is Closing (A Saturday afternoon; and the passing of a friend.)”
I will miss the smell of books.
Bound paper. Ink on a page.
And their coffee.
A place to sit, on Pacific Avenue
out of the rain
and write.
It was my version of
Hemingway’s “clean, well-lighted place”
(without the despair, loneliness
or nihilistic taint.)
There is something that feels sacred
about a repository of books
for sale or not.
And Borders was one
of the places where
from time to time
I went to write, to peruse
and to wonder at
the thoughts of others.
Stacks of friends-in-paper
of like minds
or not.
A place to go, and touch pages.
To stand in the lighted space, and feel
smooth
paper beneath my fingertips.
And feel the words
of others
in my eyes.
It’s not that I mind Amazon
or Kindle or Nook
and the like.
I’ve shopped the pixel places
but
there is something holy about
“the bookstore”
as an intersection of intellectual
pathways.
A nexus.
A springboard of
dimensional collaboration.
Its occupants were literate.
Thirsty for
words.
Capable of considering
the ideas of another in order to
reach the lofty places – the great open places in
their minds.
Or simply to scratch the itch
of curiosity.
I wonder if the Library at
Alexandria
was like that
before it was sacked.
-- Graves 10/18/14

I am happy to announce that my book “Messages in a Bottle: Communications to My Future Self” took one of the top awards given by the Colorado Independent Publishers Association in 2018. Find out more about it, and about my book “Reflections on a Crystal Wind” (which is also pretty good) at:
https://www.michaelgravespoet.com/

DOWNLOAD A FREE E-BOOK OF MY POETRY! (it’s easy):
1) Just click this link. https://hugohousebookstore.com/product/messages-bottle-paperback/
2) Then, click on the button that says: Free E-Book “A Glimpse Beyond”.
3) Download onto your phone, iPad or computer. “A Glimpse Beyond” downloads in Kindle, iBooks and other formats for your convenience.

Copyright© 2014 by Michael Graves, All Rights Reserved, except the right to forward and to share with friends - with credit -- which is held to be a good idea and is thus encouraged.

Find more of Michael Graves’ poetry on MeWe at:
https://mewe.com/p/michaelgraves-poet

And on Instagram at: #mg_poet

The image is of one of the tiny detailed dioramas that artist Lori Nix designed for her post-apocalyptic vision. She built the 3-D scenes in her living room on nights and weekends with the help of an assistant, with each one taking anywhere from two to fifteen months to complete. Nix then shot the dioramas on normal 8×10 film, making her minuscule creations — measuring about 20 x 24 x 72 inches — appear nearly indistinguishable from full-size scenes.

More information here: https://www.fastcompany.com/1662890/lori-nixs-stunning-tiny-dioramas-depict-an-abandoned-world-slideshow#9

 
 
 
 
More Than Enough
 
More Than Enough
 
 
 

Good... ...to a point. You can also aim to do what it takes rather than just your best.

Doing what it takes rather than just your best you become better than your best.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Until next time,
dream big dreams,
plan out how to achieve them,
be continually executing your plans,
enlist people to your causes,
travel and/or read widely, preferably both,
all the while observing what you observe
rather than thinking what you are told to think,
think well of your fellow man,
take time to help your fellow man,
he sorely needs it and it will help you too,
eat food that is good for your body,
exercise your body,
take time to destress,
and do the important things
that make a difference -
they are rarely the urgent ones!

Tom

 
 

Most of the content herein has been copied from someone else. Especially the images. My goodness some people are talented at creating aesthetics! The small bits that are of my creation are Copyright 2014-2021 © by Tom Grimshaw - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use. Also for entertainment and educational purposes. All rights to the original works go to those that hold them, no copyright infringement intended. All material used falls under fair use of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (1998). (for commentary, criticism, education and satire)

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