Midnight Sun…….
………celebration of earth awakening.
BEHIND THE ART!
Creatively compiled Incidents!
The silver cars driven in tandem.
In the midday sun in front of everyone.
The number plates and names obvious but random.
Life goes on around distraction.
*
They honed their skills.
Even in the privacy of my own home!
Night after night.
Accomplice.
Witness.
Lack of sound proofing.
An old building!
*
Electronically generated sounds.
Took your hoover for a walk.
Socks and stairs.
Blue eyes behind key holes.
*
The padded green jacket hung on the bannister of the stairs.
Twin pairs.
The important islands.
Treasure’s in creating fear.
*
Tight rust curls.
Rimless glasses.
Round the back of print houses.
*
Just doing their job.
Respect that.
But what was that line “he is going to "...." everyone one day!
Have to do
with it.
*
Another direct but indirect thing.
To come up again.
Said to me.
But not at me.
Meant for me.
Not about me.
Directed directly at me.
*
Behind in the lines of help.
Nothing but a vacancy.
I would have preferred to be asked to produce anything else.
Got there right on queue
Man envelope .
It is not how harassment is.
*
Visuals under the car.
S
Footprints.
Change battery.
Fast asleep.
Hushed quiet.
Shop and place.
Wheel nuts replaced
While I did not see.
Sent the kid on the bike.
Yellow shop putting it right,
Big junction Corner Street.
Evidence gone before I could see.
*
Shine on the car door.
The need to touch anywhere I had to feel.
It continued week after week.
Year after year.
Camera lights actions street factions.
Road ants and traps.
Obstructiveness passed off as fans.
Extra interest.
Dangerous fads!
*
Roundabouts.
Dry dock track.
The red polkadots.
Umbrella identity hidden.
Gas stations.
Red and white.
She’s unto the fellas.
She enters to attempt a barrier.
Someone did not like what they were seeing!
Back again years later.
Cars parked on the roundabout.
New boxes.
Things to print.
Green polkadots.
Two fellas.
Mousey bob.
Nearly finished.
The umbrella did not quite cover her.
Miss jacket skirt fair weather.
*
Holiday hats.
Thirteen on Edges Corner Street.
The annoy her!
The annoyers!
Entertainers!
A young man’s immiscible.
An old man‘s confectionery.
Metal balloons in the sky.
Sky blue metals and balloons.
It's over!
Sand.
Universities.
Cars with run marks.
Invasion fantasy and lies
Inventing connections that never existed.
*
Back packs and soft voices.
Smiles holding Trifles!
Protecting profiles.
Gossip commences the podium inquiry.
One off hand compliment.
Something stuck.
Brave concerns from elsewhere.
Years later.
It must have turned.
Becoming full on intimidation.
Instead of grounding meditation.
Entering from the underneath.
The sheaths are good at entering.
*
Aura wholes and arrows.
Bright schools ideas.
Intentions of wicked control.
Bemusing calls that relate to making it big.
Yet nothing to do with me.
But I end up receiving it.
*
From the churches to the job!
They had long been planning.
Working on a man in everything.
Hacked diaries.
Spoken of blatantly.
The right of entitlement has its own street.
*
These are the memories wanted.
Not that I needed reminding!
*
Back in the day!
Tremors depending who was waiting at the primary school gate.
Present day.
Played out like back in the day bullies.
Memories flooding in.
Awarded latch key and
string.
*
These are the memories they were planning!
First time I learnt of miracles.
Was making it home.
With the key still around my neck!
After a day full of school antics!
First one home.
Always lots of time to be alone.
Moving from one room to another.
It was no big thing to disturb a burglar.
*
Times changed.
What is now fashionable big lips.
Back in the day were called nasty rubber lips!
*
No more hiding under the pile of clothes.
At the bottom of
the wardrobe.
Time to toughen up.
Secondary school starts.
Surviving abuse.
By donning a Clown suit!
*
From nursery to being grown.
One house move.
Another stalker.
My life is like grass to a lawnmower.
*
Greetings from Charades Rotten!
Now you are here you think you are all confidence!
*
This is what is going to happen.
Replicating cut action roll.
Magic at diagonal streets.
*
They dug and they found.
This is now about doing time at the all-girls secondary school!
*
You should know our species.
We can conditioned male belief.
Get them to turn away just at the right time.
Keeping things feeling nice and pretty.
Maintain an unassuming level of control. Nothing would be
obvious or seen.
Underneath car test.
Paid for a full book of stamps.
Only half empty book given!
We used no bravado.
Penetrated the banter.
Stayed sexy or macho which ever we needed.
We knew men loved obsessing about the female body.
Even though chosen and designed to bring forth milk.
Treated and thought of as inadequate.
Hey!
Campaign created.
Right in front of everyone.
Street meets entertainment.
*
Arrival to What's Rotting!
As soon as something good happens.
We jump in and start destroying.
We have chosen our patience.
Jealously the motivation.
Attempts at black
mail style of communication.
Never let go especially if you watched as they became
successful.
Too big a racket.
Too well organised.
Automatic denials.
All of the automatically denied!
The appearance of the no listening eyes!
*
@charadesrotten!
As soon as something good happens.
Those living in pain start creating.
Nothing under the table.
No tears forgotten.
Years of going unnoticed.
It all looks like confidence.
But they are complacent.
*
The more visible the negative.
Clearer is the positive.
*
It has melted in as a known way of life.
*
Obsession a dependant.
Freedom signals chosen togetherness.
Obsession always has to show up.
There is no other equation.
Otherwise obsession would not be.
*
Magic can be trickery operating differently. Parallel adjacent streets.
But that two will have to show up.
Entertainment needs an audience!
*
Once obsession does not turn up.
Or send anyone else.
Leave a trophy.
Then the call for obsession is not the necessary.
That makes room for persistence needed for success.
Independent of anyone else.
Individualistic cooperation with everyone else. Opens!
*
Car seven bought on the side of the road.
First ever cargo uniform.
Created antic.
Double parked on road.
A direct copy.
Healing broad way.
Bells sirens.
Just in the gate.
Years of planning.
“Just wait till _she sees!"
Too much has and can be hidden.
Under distractions such as
all of these!
*
Welcome
to Parades Frothing!
Tail lifts and Hellos
Once known for the iron in the village.
Look like me.
Look like you.
Variation on a theme of faces.
Pairing races.
Car park spaces.
Northern heights.
Painted face patches.
Obsessions with theatrical life.
*
Child's little rubber piggy.
Could go nowhere out of the house.
Yet replicated by grey plastic piggy at the supermarket.
Another house entry anomaly.
*
Years later.
Next generation born and growing.
Care line and tablets.
Boy on the balcony pulling at yellow things.
Playing on the line for years.
Still the old keep preying.
While they keep the young in training.
Table cloths.
Cobbled streets.
Octagon ball.
Those that heal.
Sheaths.
Fine lines.
Remade designs.
Liquorice shares.
Jealous snares.
Babbling brooks.
Everywhere.
Tree roots!
Cognate!
Dictation not free will!
Abusive control!
If prediction not followed!
When I first started seeing the connection of my entire world.
*
Meetings from way back.
Sixties seventies.
I start wondering.
Who else was watching and preying on the family?
While we were basted in best dress.
Catching the tube to get to church and start praying!
*
Events that started me questioning.
Whether my life had
been affected for years by well practice energetic penetration.
By those who spent
years honing the talent.
*
I learnt about it as just an innocent school boy’s game.
We learnt a lot of tricks in those days.
Anything to be distracted from school work.
Home life a painful misery.
School became more play than beatings.
A new game.
Concentrate on someone in one place.
See how long it takes.
Until they lift a finger to touch that space!
Too young to think of the parent or wider society health
consequences.
*
Projection till Sensation comes.
A form of escape was born.
*
The Portholes characters and Business!
Name; Mr
Highpitchbobblehat
Address; 50065
Wallets not supposed to be in
the garden street.
Sameday Restriction District.
Over49years
Downtochildhood
G0 1NE
Company
profile;
Get a man trained into everything.
Because we could.
We thought we would!
Experience;
We had it locked down to the nut and bolt.
They could not even understand.
Concentration till
sensation had them distracted till we could get away with it, or make it
difficult to prove it!
Performance;
Our performance forgot about the neurologist,
psychiatrist, the body language experts, or the camera’s that could not be
neutralised by gadgets, and everybody else who could see our drunken lies, drug fuelled predictions, and trifling smiles.
*
The watching.
The start of the loss of identity.
The beginning of what must be had and eventually
destroyed.
The what, when, where, how and why.
*
Nothing for the good of protection, or as a result of
official curriculum of learning attention.
*
Perfect
in every error.
The
blinding observation is observed by the learner it creates!
*
Moving into the portholes!
She was tall skinny shaken and seemed angry, making her
way toward me as I was walking. She was holding her glasses case in her hand
and for some reason she thrust it toward me.
It happened again sometime later, while I was waiting
outside a theatre for someone, in a completely different neighbourhood!
I could not fully understand half of the bizarre things
that suddenly started happening in my life, shortly after moving home.
All I knew was that as a mother, I felt like I had become
front page news without ever giving or seeing the story, or knowingly meeting a
reporter.
Both myself and my child where being affected again by
stalking. This time in a very different ways. My child had experienced stalking incidents directly by now, and was to be the subjected of more. Previously pursued by a
telephone stalker as an adolescent, in the age of a more modernised version of a big brick phones. This
was a man that sounded very mature with a strong accent, yet we
have never found out who he was and how he got the number, worst of all people
like that have tendency to try and find their targets!
Therefore, a danger was to continue to lurk in our lives unknown. As a mystery was being created as part of the sum total
of events. Much was made of the mystery, by those who found it entertaining to watch somebody who did not know the facial identity of a possible stalker. Which as time went on started to signal, that possibly this telephone stalker may have followed threw and tried to find, or has
found myself and my child.
My health was never to be the same again!
Everything in my life was coming together, but not for the
profitable good reasons, or results I was hoping for.
*
There is a sound that does not actually speak! Unless you
are a chosen vessel!
*
Right in the midst of starting to create again after so
many years of not remaining on tap. With my health and mobility set to never be
as comfortable as it had been previously. I had to make a decision to change the pace of my
life.
I needed a home remedy. I am so glad that my inner life, the searching and reaching remained positive and hopeful, even though there were to be
times when I would have to push it all on the back burner.
*
Everything I had in life so far.
Everything I had learnt in life.
Was being challenged.
*
Abuse in all it's forms resurfaces at different times. In unrecognisable ways, and at times unrecognisable faces, or past faces.
*
I laid on my bed, upside down with my head hanging off
the bed. I had a diagnosis that had come earlier than I expected. I was
bewildered, concerned. I felt like the biggest box of weight was laying on my
chest. I could hear noise disturbance, no matter where I was in the privacy of my home, at any time from an external source. By this time there was a growing
pattern of the noise, being deliberate! I hung over my bed wondering what I was going to do
with my life, how would my child manage if this was the end for me. I felt literally weighed down. Until, I jumped up, and decided to
pluck my eyebrows, when instantly all the weight I was feeling, fell off me!
It was a lesson to me in that moment. I had been gifted the opportunity to experience the weight of worrisome thoughts. The worry,
concern, fear of the future, actually had a physical weight to them, which felt like a heavy pressure.
Though I understood that experience in its context, and
realised that I had found the answer to my concerns in my response. A positive invitation to be distracted by responding to a spontaneous thought. Deciding not to sit and dwell.
It was a new realisation for me, and I was in no doubt I was going to have to recognise many more on many different levels.
This was not going to be an easy shift of consciousness, or understanding.
Having first been introduced to the fun of fortune
telling some years earlier. I then maintained an interest finding places, and
those who practised healing art's, and psychic abilities.
I was intrigued.
I attended what was called demonstrations, for entertainment purposes only. These were led by people who claimed to have the gift of intuition, those able to use that gift to communicate with energy, or interpret it on different levels of life experience. This is the best explanation I have. I cannot confirm it as a fact.
I attended what was called demonstrations, for entertainment purposes only. These were led by people who claimed to have the gift of intuition, those able to use that gift to communicate with energy, or interpret it on different levels of life experience. This is the best explanation I have. I cannot confirm it as a fact.
I gained a lot of personal insights while attending such
meetings. I had grown up against a regimented strict religious back ground,
something I did not enjoy, and struggle with because of the hypocrisy of abuse, and
lack of understanding, and perception, of ordinary life.
Religion was replaced by the healing arts, a faith based
belief in which I found a very easy going atmosphere to attend. I began
attending more regularly, enjoying the Sunday service events. Eventually, attending one to one sessions,
which was like counselling for me, helping me deal with difficult relationships,
and assisted in helping me understand childhood experiences. It became a very
important part of my life, and was a support system for me. I took further interest years later, once I
had moved home, and the stalking was starting to pick up momentum, by attending a
workshop. There were exercises in that works shop which taught examples of how to recognise the difference between approaching somebody who wanted to share energy, and someone who did not.
Between the healing arts and active demonstrations. I learned permission had to be
granted before a healer would start work.
I was going through years of change. Navigating my way to stop
identifying and creating relationships and friendships, from an abused person
point of few.
Contact healing was one of the most powerful sessions I
have ever had. It was my first time. The only way I can describe it is as forms of
concentration, and sensation. The people seemed well trained and able work with others in a
permissive way, only! Consent was needed! The true professionals made no moves
without permission, I learnt that was their ethic. Plus this was something
practised in a surgery setting! Not any, or everywhere, at any time.
My first session was with three healers. I was put on a treatment table. The healer inquired if I minded being touched gently if it is was necessary, some people are not tact
tile, and not all healers need to make direct contact to be effective. I did not mind. Most
important nothing about this experience was sexual in anyway. As I closed my
eyes and the healing began, all my tension, worries, concerns turned away. But
as my eyes where closed, I began experiencing the strongest vivid colours,
metallic gold, purple, greens, blues. I had never experienced something so deeply powerful, or peaceful.
In my childhood, I could not articulate certain things I had experienced, let alone some of my psychic experiences to anyone who would understand them as such. I now have no doubt that was due to trauma, but attending healing and
listening to those who spoke about psychic life, finally my whole life began to
make sense.
I loved this area of life I had found, and knew it will
continue to play a big part in my life, and was advised as such. There was one
incident on route to... I think it was a Sunday service event, I passed a lady as
she was walking ahead of me, going in the same direction I was going, wearing a bag that was wide
open. As I walked passed her, I informed her that her bag was open, and her
wallet was sticking out. We started talking and walking together, as it happens we
were both heading for the same service! On this occasion a very young medium
was introduced. Unusual at the time, most times I had attended the mediums seem
very mature with a lot of experience.
I became friends with this lady, she was in an abusive
relationship with someone who was successful. I eventually took a risk as a
parent, and took her into my home briefly, believing I was helping her. Again, someone I had music in common with, a very gently spoken woman, she claimed to
be psychic, something I did not disbelieve.
I took her into my home to give her a chance, to
get away from her abusive boyfriend and help her get on her feet. She
introduced me to one of her platonic male friends, who I spoke to over the phone, never meeting him in person, or ever being aware of having met him. Slowly but surely things changed. I became concerned I
was being taken for a mug, it is not that I did not believe the lady was being abused, but I was
concerned about who was around her. I started to ask further questions, as to why
she did not seem to want to let go of this man, considering what he was doing to
her. Things stop adding up, I was concerned about the risk I had taken. In one
conversation between speaking to the lady and her friend, I tried to understand
why the lady would not leave the abuse, it became clear that she had supported
this man in his success, but she felt she had not become as successful as he
did, while they were together, and wanted to hold on to the support she had
given him, by staying in the abusive relationship! There was a heated exchange
between us, the reason was collaborated by her friend!
As a mother, I was scared I had let someone into my home who did not need help. Right or wrong, I had to ask her to leave. Because things where not as she
had said, during the heated exchange, I used the word charlatan. I felt conned into helping someone who did not want the help.
Leaving an abusive life behind is a negotiation away from having
abusive lovers, friends, acquaintances, employers, and business associates, and being manipulated by those who could
see you coming!
From the end of that friendship, I kept attending the healing arts and
continued finding authors that would help me heal, and help me make the psychological and
emotional shift in my thinking, and way of living. I felt I made good progress,
and was continuing to make good head way, away from abuses. Until I moved house, and as I settled in and decided to attend a session of contact healing. While in
the waiting area, a young lady asked me a question, no one I immediately recognised, she
asked me if I found attending necessary, I said yes. I thought it was friendliness. Only to return home, as I
walked through the grounds of the estate toward my flat, it seem like
this same lady lived, or was visiting the estate as well. It seemed like an attempt at some kind of intimidation.
Deciding to take the healing arts more seriously, I took
out a membership at one of the places I was attending, as it would make it
cheaper for me to attend workshops, which was my only reason. Within the six
months of moving home, acquiring membership, I was in no doubt I was being
stalked. I was about to attend a meeting, when I saw a young man I had worked with
years earlier, circling the area.
What was previously a really nice experience started to become energetically uncomfortable, not only for me, but for others too, because of the energy sensitive place it was.
What was previously a really nice experience started to become energetically uncomfortable, not only for me, but for others too, because of the energy sensitive place it was.
I did not know at first how to tell anyone there I was
being stalked. Every time I would attend instead of the happy calm I had known, I felt taken over by anger, I did not know how it was happening,
but I could see others looking, and talking amongst themselves, because they felt
it too. I got to know several different places to go, and visited different
areas, I could see the similar reaction to the anger that would rise up.
I finally had one final one to one session. This time I told the person I was struggling with being stalked. I heard something and saw something that changed my mind forever. I had trusted the whole process, but was advised of charlatans operating. I did not attend that particular venue again. The person who had advised me, someone later claimed had stopped practising at the venue around the time I stopped attending.
I finally had one final one to one session. This time I told the person I was struggling with being stalked. I heard something and saw something that changed my mind forever. I had trusted the whole process, but was advised of charlatans operating. I did not attend that particular venue again. The person who had advised me, someone later claimed had stopped practising at the venue around the time I stopped attending.
Years later, I checked out another service style healing arts event, to see how I
felt with so many years away from the scene as it were. Choosing, eventually not to believe it all to be fake. I realised how much what
I had experienced in the meantime, had changed me. Shifting my perception about
the spiritual side of my life. I still maintained a belief, and respect for the foundation I gained, and all I learned from those practising healing arts!
Though I stopped attending the healing arts as part of my
support system, by now the stalkers grooming and antics, had adversely affected
my work.
I had long worked on a temporary basis, in long term contracts, and
went onto invest in further vocational training to gain a better position for
my finances and health. I went into debt to get out of debt, and succeeded at
entering the field at the level I had trained at, about a year before moving to the home where the stalking was to start again. After previously being stalked for almost seven years by a date, turned stalker.
There were those that did not like the fact I had finally
succeeded, especially as they had watched me work my way up from the bottom. I
realise now that was an area some incidents related too, and had started from.
I put myself in a position that would pay well, allowing
me to work on an employed, or self -employed basis, keeping myself and my child
off the Poverty line!
I left my early life, and school years as someone
considered unskilled. I remember not being thought of as someone capable of
ever getting anywhere in life, especially as I lived with long term health
challenges, let alone as being someone able to take too hard graft!
My home life was bizarre, things at work got even worse
though I tried to advise employers of stalking difficulties. I managed to just stay in work. I knew if I could keep going, so long as those that employed me did not stop
choosing me for work, or give into pressure , if contacted by stalker, who would inevitable
try and control when I did, or did not work. I would survive the stalking campaign. Sadly, that pattern did seem, to start to
occur. There were things happening at work, I personally could relate it to as antics that where happening at home.
My reading list continued to grow rapidly in this period, I
found more authors left, right and centre, as I desperately tried to shift my
perception, and thought process, away from it being attacked by the predictive
elements of the stalking antics. There was now a strong pattern emerging, that showed me the antics where in some way linked to my interest in the healing arts.
I continued to build on my painting experiences, reading
a book which concentrated on the subject of brain hemisphere shift during the
creative process. Still using a loose sketch focal point, I finally painted a
tree. Which I had been advised by a psychic / medium some years earlier, to learn to draw
the tree of life, I do not know that mine resembles it.
Searching for deeper meanings to human existence, and
answers to creating a much better life, having achieved a milestone in my
career, I had planned to use the achievement to continue a creative business
idea, I had left behind years earlier. But
everything that was distracting in my life such as the stalking seem to be sitting
right within the emotional creative centre, that I thought I needed to be clear.
The search for more in my spiritual life, led to intense
poetry writing to relieve myself of the effects of the experience somebody else
was creating. In one of these sessions, the poem BROKEN MAN emerged. I felt, and
saw a development of something else taking over as I created. An informative style, of explanatory sentences, emerged as poetry. Which allowed for the anger to surface and release, and be met with the calm of
understanding. I called it 'split poetry'.
*
It was the start of being able to go into subject, and
focus.
*
By now, due to the changes in health, life was more
about rest. Needing quiet. But that was difficult due to living with deliberate
noise nuisance. I enjoyed music even more, filling every room with music to
drown out all the deliberate noise. I requested a move from the property where
there was trouble, by this time I was in debt with the rent, so I had to be rehoused by the same landlord. Having found it
difficult to find another employer, my resources ran out, even though my current
employer had offered me help, nothing arrived in time. Struggling with health
complications. I began receiving unemployment benefits.
I had always worked with, and had knowledge of the law of
attraction quite naturally. Whilst this strengthened my ability to accept my
own responsibility, and continue to enjoy and appreciate life no matter what the
circumstances.
I hit a bump in my understanding once stalked. Faced with having
to take certain measures to make others aware. Which I did not like having to take.
There was a lot of blame
coming toward me, accused of bringing the whole experience on myself. There were jibes
directed toward me which insinuated that I should not have moved home in the first place, the same
insinuation was made in regard to leaving a certain employer! Not the one I
had been currently working for before unemployment.
My struggle was knowing even while growing up, there were
people who needed no encouragement or reason to mess up someone’s life. Yet it
seemed again and again in some literature I had read on self-improvement, and
spirituality, not enough was said about the behaviours that
would indicate, not everything in life is your responsibility. Due to my own experience of abuse, I was bullied at home and at
school,and life was miserable at times. In turn to survive I became the bully for a
period of time, but making others miserable was not something I enjoyed, and there were some people who had just got caught up in the bullying that was not intended for them. Bullying, was
a reaction from defiance, and only emerged years after constant put downs.
I understood and accepted that once the stalker attached
to me, that part of their parasitic style of behaviour made revenge on me possible, for
any decision,or action I had made, or taken in life. Specifically, when
I realised this was something, someone, was beginning to link to my childhood.
Sitting by the river, which became a constant companion
and a place of solace, once unemployed and waiting to move again away from the troubles. I started to change my life to
benefit the change in my health condition. I finally got the news of a new home.
With the help of friends of my child, they got me moved out. I moved near to the
area where the lady, who I had taken into my home some years, earlier lived.
The stalking continued and was set to escalate. As a result I had
to continue to raise concerns regarding the problems, everything I spoke about
or explained in writing was shot down.
It was all made to look like I was to blame. So, I decided to take that blame
and blame myself, and live like I was to blame, which would mean no further
antics would happen. Because I had taken the blame.
Settling into my new surroundings, I took the opportunity
to change from unemployment benefit, and claim employment assistance. I had attempted to apply for work in the
same field of work I had a vocational training in. But I was struggling physically
due to health, and without an employer's support, to offer me duties that did not
include too much physical duties, I would have to be careful about the kind of work I
accepted. I returned to college to brush up skills that would enable in
business.
I was getting fed up blaming myself for
the stalking antics. By now it look to me like organised crime. Everything, or any one I came into contact with was being mimicked!
*
Mimickery is a form of flattery until you have been
stalked!
Then it becomes a warning!
*
Shortly after moving home, I had been to an event
relating to business. I returned home to
find a note had been posted threw my front door requesting me to call the local
authority. Which I did, only to learn someone had advised them I had not been
seen for about a period of seven or several months. which was not true. That was the first time I became directly aware of being used in a hoax style of stalking. It was not the last time either, because even when I moved area, and landlord it happened again. By this time I had suspicions of it being used as some kind threat, and as a weird way to send a prediction.
The noise nuisance continued almost identical to what I
had previously experienced. I had witnessed a certain style of stalking, when I first moved away from the
abuses I had grown up in. I witnessed someone surviving an assault after being
attacked as a result of neighbour stalking, that pattern then was more evident.
My
child experienced on one occasion, while driving with a passenger or being the
passenger, someone trying to run the car they were in, off the road!
Returning home one day, I passed several folks hanging
around a property right near mine. Nothing out of the ordinary. The
properties had porthole designed front doors. I had placed a net curtain over
that window allowing me to see out and identify callers. No sooner had I entered my property, still standing by the door I heard some commotion outside, but near my
front door. I had recognised some of the folks as other residents on the estate. It was all quiet in my flat. I turned to look out the front door window to
where the noise started, only to see everyone piling into the property next to
mine, that had been standing near the neighbour’s property. The property next to
my property was situated above mine. It was set to be another night of noise
nuisance, no where I could go in the privacy of my own home, without noise being created above
my head!
I eventually noticed myself becoming deeply affected by
such behaviour. Once that kind of behaviour started, I felt as though I was
being strangled, tense, dizzy, a number of sensation would come over me, I
could not fully understand why. By this time due to antics, I began to write to
the places where I had attended healing sessions, which by now I had not attended
for some years asking if some of the things I was seeing was in anyway related to anyone who had practised with them.
When I used to attend one to one sessions for a personal
reading, I would always do so once I had begun to feel somewhat anxious, and was
not happy with something that had developed in my life. It was reassuring to me
that someone else could pick up on how I was feeling, at that time. I did not
feel it was something that could be projected.
I tried to move on and concentrate on my life.
It was at this porthole door property that I started to
scale up my painting. I had purchased a large A2 pad of white paper. The white
background represented a form of purity.
Eventually, after again having to raise concern and point out
the same nuisance behaviours, urging those I had to written too, to find help for
those that were groomed into believing they had to make me a target. Eventually, as a result of repeating concerns meant there was less
noise nuisance only at times. Then even though I appreciated the quite times, I remained on edge, not knowing when it would all start again.
I created my first canvas collection at this porthole
property. This second larger collection was to develop in its own direction.
Having listen to so much noise nuisance, I built the skill of hearing, yet ignoring, into concentrating more on meditation
during that time. Hearing my intuition began to emerge into a stronger practice day by day, in relation to my art at least.
*
Grief affects us all in different ways.
*
At the Portal hole property. I became an adult orphan!
Amongst everything going on! There were other losses in this area, one I
believe was directly affected by the pressure of living in with a constant stalking situation.
With so much energy on the other side, referring to the
belief that energy does not delete. I finally started getting up every day with
the purpose to create, after an intense period of grieving, and having had a
couple of operations.
As my health took a turn for the better, different
painting styles and techniques started to emerge. I was really able to listen
to the direction the brush should go, it was an activity that became a form of
meditation, unlike the tense resistance I had initially felt when I tried to
paint the canvas collection.
*
I really enjoyed the gliding of the brush.
The messages
that comforted.
Buffeting away the grief.
*
It was a lovely summer, and it felt so good to be getting
stronger. I had hopes, but I did not know how I was going to make a new future
come true, I just believed I would. Another miracle came when I was accepted unto a
mobility housing scheme, that would allow me to move away from the landlord, and
borough where I continued experience stalking antics.
I had nearly completed that A1 pad of white paper, better
able to direct my focus toward contemporary design with the idea of product
application.
Taking a candle and scouring on a sheet, I covered the wax
with opera rose pink acrylic paint. I did not finish that piece at that
location. So, I packed it up ready to move house without realising the full
message of the piece at that time.
At this time my child was helping me to stay afloat financially, using up
savings to make sure I was eating properly, as well as funding full moving
cost. Making the transition as easy as was possible for me.
By the time I left the porthole property, the property
had experienced damp, due to external overflow pipes, and internal maintenance, damaging some of our belongings, and at least one piece of my art work.
It was autumn before I made the move to a new part of
town, that year the weather stayed good so it felt like summer.
I had made the necessary changes, had moved house with
more emotional baggage to sort out. There were left overs in my life, due to who I had
become involved with previously as I tried to negotiate my way to my worthy! Abuses continued to rise, popping up to be dealt with once an opportunity arose, this time I tried to pay attention!
I first started smoking cigarettes at an early age, I
later became addicted to tobacco only, despite health concerns. Believing we are
all equal, I did not see myself different to any other addict. Coming from
abuses feeling worthless, though I needed and wanted to be in loving
relationships, at times I was introduced to, and would date some good guys, some guys
a lot older than me, who had prominent positions in negative areas of life. I
only dated them briefly, and remained on the outside of how they earned, or
did not go about earning their living! Too young, and naive in those years to
realise the long term ramifications that would have on my life.
I wanted to attract
much different men than I did, but confidence and self -esteem was so elusive.
By time I had to start moving home to get away from stalking, my focus shifted
to working and training myself for better, but within a field with higher
levels of one gender than the other, the same referring to race at times. There was
another level of negotiating to do, when it came to dating. I still found
myself with negatives, one of which showed up on the day of one of my
vocational test , trying to prevent me from attending by
attempting to restrain me, in a similar way the date stalker restrained me in
the street years earlier. Only this time, it turned out to be a bit of a scuffle, which took place at the top of concrete stairs!
I tried to completely distance myself from all of these events for years, trying to learn the lesson. I made my way in life far enough away from all I had known.
I stopped dating all together. It was evident to me this was not area of life I
was strong in. Being on my own for just a while, would allow me to work on some
baggage.
Years earlier, when I mixed more closely with groups of platonic female friends, some of them
would mention from time to time, as we would all talk about whatever abusive
relationship we had been in, or where negotiating our way out of. That they would switch sides,
if eventually there was no change in the way they were being treated by men. It was not something I could do, but I understood the feelings, and appreciated the capacity for versatility!
As a Mother and potential Grand Mother, I chose not to be
against same sex relationships, quite the opposite. I had been forced to grow
up with so much, and forced to learn so many other things as well as a lot of
prejudice. I decided nothing will stop me from accepting any child of mine.
*
Yet once stalked again.
I do believe I experienced forms of straight hate!
Quite bizarre!
*
The candle wax scoured sheet started at porthole property was ready to be finished. The message was in! I had moved to a beautiful
clean property that was flooded with day light. My spirits were completely lifted for
the first time in years, I felt truly free. The approach to the finishing of this
piece of work was very easy strokes of watercolour on top the acrylic paint, giving the water resistance appearance, further expression made through circles, lines, with petal impressions styled into what looks like a design.
By this time I was highly sensitive to all things
ethereal. If intuition once connected to was connected to an ethereal being, whether a deity or
something else, the inspiration for this poem seem to appear in that connection as the sound of a bellowing and deep voice. Even though
I had been through so many adverse experiences, once I raised concerns I could
see changes in the situation I had raised concerns about, even though I did not have the direct help of a solicitor,as I did
when I was first stalked. I believed earth angels were at work, I did not know their faces, but I could feel, and see change.
The message of the piece.
*
Thank you!
Inspiration;
Thankful Tribute.
Message;
Have the attitude of helping.
Even when not physically present!
There are glimmers of hope, but mountains to climb!
For all those that gave of their lives in the name of
human, and civil rights.
*
It was a beautiful creative experience. My creative work
gained a deeper prospective, as I listened within, paid full attention to
dreams and visions.
Though moving to get away from stalking can be an
imposition, certainly the first time I had to move, that effect was on my child
having to make such a big change.
Taking the positive from moving each time I
have moved, has helped me clear more life baggage. At these times, I began to
see that everything that I thought was in the way of my creativity, was in fact
the very lessons that would inspire it, and be the catalyst
behind further learning experiences.
I felt very responsible once I moved, still seeing some of
the same stalking antics, which meant some of the same grooming had arrived before me.
Previously, the predictions had become so accurate, stalker
and supporters seemed entertained by my journeys to the local shopping areas. My
shopping list would be very limited, and not hard to predict given my lack of
budget. An example; I had run out of pet food on one occasion while living at the Port holes, and
needed cat food. I manage to get to the store, to find all the cat food had
been bought out. The type I wanted to buy. A man stood with bags bursting
full of the very cat food I needed. Though this could be seen as just one of those odd things,nothing unusual. Due to what was being said as I arrived at the store, I struggle to see it as something not intended as spite. It was the style of deliberate spiting that I had come to know was being directed toward me, but would be difficult for anyone else to understand as such, or recognise.
*
*
Once second to get it all across!
In the presence of bravery!
The conversation!
Candle wick smooth fire!
*
Floor still has the energy of that finger.
The twister.
The walk from civil rights to angelic portals.
Sadness.
The requested.
Laughter was easier than crying out louder.
Could not bear it again.
*
More strategies.
Made the truth plain to see.
Belts long legs the silent request.
Bent over something opened.
Impishness movement and realisation.
Nothing inappropriate.
Places mistakes.
*
Bravery.
Opened gates.
Just another day.
*
The mask fell over face.
Far reaching lands.
Mystics and rubber bands.
Digital possession.
Advance the coupling.
Worried humour and questions.
Big brash alien.
Chosen for an experience.
The situation must change.
Knowledge not casualty.
Letting freedom reign.
*
The poem refers to a conversation that I had always dreaded having, which was probably a mutual thing. I was
to try again to explain my experience regarding stalking. Concerned about the effect it may have on
this new community I had moved into.
It was slightly confusing to have someone deny that what
I had personally experienced in my life, as something that did not happen. Then to be
advised to talk to who so ever I thought was stalking me. When all other advise goes against that! Mind you in my case, it would not be
hard, considering my child had been targeted by someone unknown. Plus, when you experience a style of stalking which includes the employing of others, it can be difficult to know who is who!
I still was not making any financial progress. I was
so fed up and getting restless. I was always searching for jobs, even while working on
projects. But for years could not find a way back into the vocational field of work. Where I could earn money much quicker than with my projects. There was a style of antics that was still preventing me from moving a head confidently, and creatively. I did not have the strength or know how to make my ability, and ambition to achieve, louder and stronger than the antics and the grooming I was still seeing.
*
The Bother! I do not mind admitting I was going backward and forward trying to get over it all!
*
White shirt.
Dark blue jeans.
Large stitching.
Did you think you had not been recognised by me?
Twin pairs.
Like the can of drink near the stairs.
Boiled sweets.
Toilets and pavements.
Yes, I did pay my five pounds to those that claimed to be healing.
But you’re screaming shout.
Their back!
Came back!
*
The messes banter.
You do not know how to stop.
Weights.
This is what I have to put up with.
*
Traffic islands.
TV cameras.
Lenses pointed at the car bumper.
*
Loving watching her cringing.
Male bitching laughter.
You claim through your job to be doing well.
Building up the community with your hands.
While tearing it down with your crutch.
*
A poem about deciding again to return to see how I would
feel about having healing again, after years of not attending. The decision then becomes linked to trauma and memories of somebody else’s manipulative energy, again the sweets were the
trophy, with links to the first estate where the stalking started. A woman stood near where the sweet was left on the pavement
where I was to walk by, and again one left in the toilet I would chose to go into, once I arrived at my destination, given the fact I had not told anyone where I was going! But that was the lynch pin. Why I would make the choice where the stalker had
left the trophy. I had a habit, not hard to learn, of doing whatever was
convenient! I personally found such incidents violating.
I decided to start writing a book about my stalking experience. I was making good progress with it. but every time I got to the bit where the stalking had
started again I could not move past it, I would feel completely traumatised by how it all started again. I stopped! But as I had been constantly in the creative writing mind, I
was letting go and releasing a lot of baggage. Writing the book, then jotting
down poetry, as well journal excavation. I decided to re write my CV and post
it on a job search site.
I was successful and very lucky in attracting someone
willing to hold a position of work open for me. However, during the time I had
not been able to return to work with the vocational training I had achieved. Certain parts of my training certificates had expired. To be able to maintain the value
of my vocational training, and be able to use them to earn money, I would have to invest again. My child stepped up!
The person did hold the job open for me, and that help me pull myself together
again, it was a wobbly start, but with a friendly supportive team, I
made it through. It worked best for all concerned as a temporary position. The experience refreshed me. Though, I was not out of the woods as far as the
stalking antics.
As if by some miracle with my CV visible, someone else who I
did not remember, but who fortunately remembered me from working in the same
place I did, offered me further work, as they too had made changes to their employment.
Getting regular sub contracting work meant I could complete my training and become established once again in my chosen field. Though it was physically challenging, especially to my health. I had been living very restfully which is the ideal to maintaining good health conditions. It remained as wonderful blessing, which I am very grateful for, though still not out of the woods of concerns regarding stalking. Or of bouts of stalking returning with a vengeance.
Getting regular sub contracting work meant I could complete my training and become established once again in my chosen field. Though it was physically challenging, especially to my health. I had been living very restfully which is the ideal to maintaining good health conditions. It remained as wonderful blessing, which I am very grateful for, though still not out of the woods of concerns regarding stalking. Or of bouts of stalking returning with a vengeance.
Writing a book has turned now turned into this blog
space. Which has been a healing in itself to create. I saw a massive change after the
conversation I had regarding stalking antics. I realise now there are those that will always believe and who will continue to believe, they can deny a persons experience.
There is a whole chunk of my life that I may not ever be able to fully explain. During this challenging period of my life. I have chosen to remain constant in my own openness to change! I have not lied about
the stalking campaigns I have survived, and continue to survive with gratitude
and thanks toward those who have acted bravely on my behalf, and for other people like me. Some folk who probably did not have to do anything at all, but who stepped up, and by some miracle, or through some channel, or the other means, heard the cries for change, and chose to have some understanding of those who cannot control, or change from stalking behaviours.
Stalking behaviours may start with something as simple as a breakdown in any kind of
relationship, acquaintanceship, or friendship. The effects, and antics can
encompass every form of stalking personality trait, beginning from the small and barely noticeable, with not much attention giving to it, and lead right up to global
terrorism.
There was a global awakening event which was sparked by one man overcoming his depression, and hardship. He sat, and listened, and wrote.
This event took place online and was based in USA. I paid as much attention as I could, watching each
episode while reading the accompanying book. This happened just at the time when
I had stopped attending the healing arts, just as one door seem to close.
I had
planned to continue to learn about the healing arts by continuing to attend workshops. My vulnerability in this
area left me wide open, to what I can now refer to as psychologically violent forms
of energetic terrorism. Because I was constantly targeted by those who projected
psychic negativity, some well-trained it would seem, and who, may have of gone onto train
others!
What seemed like an innocent school boy’s game of concentrating on someone, until you observe them
touch the area concentrated on. The connection made during concentration means the power of
focus, and intention can have a physical effect, response, and reaction. This can either be used
to project positive vibration to help a person be relieved from tension, and
suffering. Or it would be appear could be used, to cause it.
*
Everything I thought stood in my way.
I realise was put in my way.
By a power much greater than me and anyone involved.
*
The home remedies.
While in reaction.
*
Natural Flowism!
A freedom of being happened!
*
