I wonder, I ponder,
therefore I think, thought Harland.
In order to get to the real Cartesian “I think, therefore I am,” he figured he had to first get out from I think I think, therefore I am. Only
then might he transition to “I think and
intuit, therefore I am.”
Just like Bullwinkle, who collected boxtops, some people
collect coupons and recipes. Harland collects certain somethings. In his ramblings on the web he seeks out truth
tellers who have health tips, forbidden cures. It is obvious to any red piller
that USA, Inc. has a depopulation agenda and he is intent upon not being one
of its disabled populants. A step beyond this is another file folder he keeps entitled
“Spirit,” where one finds little snippets, esoteric clues of spiritual proportions.
Harland believes that it is a strong body and mind that
must support a clean and clear soul. Spirit can more easily manifest when all of
the beacon generating capacities are working properly; clear reception is what
he seeks. Doing battle with the geo-political beast and Luciferian acolytes necessitates
some clearing to allow thought and intuition to coalesce properly.
Doing God’s work, living the gospel of Jesus, requires some
purifying. That, too, begins with cleaning out the body/mind. The heart chakra
is key and still emanates its etheric love aura regardless of its reckless
keeper. But we’re talking maximum strength here; optimization of the Force That
Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower, as Dylan Thomas so wonderfully
expressed the power of soul.
A recent tip-off was gotten via a file found on a favorite site
he had dubbed the “Motherload.” He had gone to http://whale.to/b/croft_h.html and
started a 500-page journey into The
Adventures of Don & Carol Croft. This is essentially Don Croft’s
journal of his experiences as an Orgonite Etheric Warrior tossing his holy hand
grenades (HHg) and ChemBusters (CBs) hither and yon to clean up dead orgone and
sick vortices. His life is the stuff of science fiction to the normie "pajama
person" (blue piller), but he and his wife are apparently taken very seriously by the tri-letter
agencies and their servitor psychics. It seems that Don has taken the work of
Dr. Wilhelm Reich’s cloud buster and orgone generating to new heights—and he is
not alone.
In typical serendipitous fashion, one find leads to other
leads in rather short order. Old houndog that he is, it wasn’t long before Harland was onto
the scent. As any red pill aficionado knows, one must unlearn before one can
reboot oneself with the truth. Accordingly, one needs to detox before
revivifying. Harland has thus embarked on a cleansing and rejuvenation program
of his own.
His new regime will take until almost summer to
complete. He’s excited and glad to broadcast his findings once they are found
to be the remedial therapy he believes it to be. Until then, Harland is poking
around here and there, generally making a nuisance of himself. He means well,
but of course is slightly demented by his presumed, somewhat debilitated state.
The wind fills the sails. Tropics beckon. Other lands have
secrets to decode. And Sublandia stays in perpetuity, distancing us from elementals,
gnomes and fairies, inter-dimensional and starry helpmates. Wingmakers await to
shove off the ship of recovering fools. Harland keeps reflecting upon brave Ulysses
as he wades through the Dark Ages.
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