Over the years as positions clarify and assumptions either solidify or melt away, my message of describing stuck-addiction as a global Rumpelstiltskin to be named as the precursor to landing the new Era materialises.
In the UK #carillion #interserve #capita are the triad of obsession with shell-company financing of public infrastructure with public money that feeds an ideological zombie body-politic unfit for a new digital era.
Communism as an experiment of enforced equality has failed. Socialism its crippled offspring cannot survive either.
Capitalism collapsed in a Ponzi Scheme fiasco in 2008 never ever to be resurrected into its previous Frankenstein body of the warmongers’ desperate Faustian pact of promised ends justifying savage means.
So Mankind is stuck, in limbo, waiting for the pressure to blow open the protocol safe of MAD, unless some impossible dream can actually materialise before that final brink of straw man-ship is accidentally tumbled over to the sound of the G20 camels breaking their DAVOS backs.
In every area now of the crisis driven globalised catastrophe that has arrived into a 24/7 news fixation, with all of the elegance of the jerky St Vitus dance appearance of the huge and monstrous cherry-picker that it actually is, Mankind’s brutal monetary system is exposed as a ticking bomb that is about to destroy everything and everybody.
Melodrama is a description of a playwright’s fictional device for the deeper entertainment of an audience. It is not a device that is of any use to a practitioner who has to give news of an imminent physical collapse unless a metaphysical programme of change is instigated immediately.
This is the message inherently meant by my term stuck-addiction, which now applies to millions of individual people who cannot live happily in their bodies with the appetites which are craving their attention from their security, social and sex instincts.
Rumpelstiltskin has a grip on Mankind and on Mankind’s stewardship of planet Earth. To name the phenomenon that is imprisoning a whole species is the first step to co-writing our new way of living more as Human, beings, less as lost beings.
Rumpelstiltskin is a money driven disconnect that I have named as stuck-addiction. The disconnect is from the singular metaphysical terminal of how life appears here on Earth.
Naturally then the point of transmission of such a message becomes subject to scrutiny. “Who does he think he is?” “He would be much more successful if he was really worth listening to.” “He loves all that mumbo jumbo that can’t be proved, all that hidden mystic stuff, do you know he’s failed and walked out of all his previous careers, sometimes because of fall outs with people?” “Even people who study mystics and stuff like that have very little to do with him.” “He’s not very successful at anything that he’s ever done, or seemingly what he’s doing now. Like he’s right and everyone else is wrong.”
As Christ said last time He was here, it is not possible to serve two Masters.
So, I serve one Master, I am a servant.
That most people don’t believe that my Master is real means that any analysis of my appearance is doomed to failure.
Sometimes people may imagine that I am aloof and that I don’t want to join in with other people, that I think that I am superior. Or maybe people may imagine that I don’t really believe in what I’m saying and that I’m frightened of being challenged and exposed as a charlatan. Often of course, even if I do briefly figure in someone’s field of attention, anything that I appear to say is of absolutely no consequence to that person as I’m clearly away with the mixer!”
The truth is that I go precisely where my Master sends me, I am to be found exactly where my Master puts me and when duty necessitates I speak within a band of transmission entirely given to me to conform to the conditions in the moment.
It is not so much for me the case that I repeat as a proselytism the phrase dear to Christian Salvationists that, nobody gets to meet God unless sent through Christ. Rather, as a servant, nobody gets to meet me unless sent by my Master.
In my work, I meet people everyday, in varying degrees of possible contact. Some sit with me in silence with perhaps a little background music on the radio, a smile and a glance. Some share their state, their day and their view of the world and we share apparent banter. Some are clearly hurting and my words form to salve a wound, stem a flow of leaking life-force, or repair a resentment. Some are sent for a full blown teaching over a one or two hour trip to an airport!
These meetings seem coincidental to the recipients above and beyond the mundanity of booking a cab. For me, there are no coincidences in my Master’s world.
I would love to meet you, but you will have to ask my Master. Who is my Master?
Exactly, HU is my Master …. this next link has been developing my mission.