Jan 9 2026: That sensation of a gut lowering dislike of the act of living, as if perpetually awaiting some fuckery to occur - I think it is an outflow of the inevitable and unavoidable interactions with 'strangers', a confirming heap of whom are fixated on their best interests, their greatest ease, their comfort. Jan 17 2026: I should be accepting of this by now, able to navigate the distress and rollercoaster bottoming-out of an unstable reality. Yet trepidation is still my persistent companion when facing tasks to be completed which incorporate the involvement of other humans. How is it that for some of us, the higher percentage of people met over the decades are less than reliable, are lax with the details, defer, expect unrealistically, or disappear as fog on a warming morning? Is there a way by which I can increase the elasticity of my ability to not see and manage the details when others treat them as optional extras to the process of doing 'life things'? How do these others stumble so expertly through tasks and survive to the end with task complete? What power organised and fulfilled the parts of a job while they were scrolling through an endless page of entertaining snippets showing other people 'doing things'? Could it even be possible for me to live with less attention? Is this one of those things set by the parameters of my personality, the toolkit of archetypes and behavioural traits I have been handed by genetics, environment, experience, and a specific OverSoul? To care less about the details, coast with ease-filled ignorance past a repeated 'to do' list, to not dread deadlines and appointments. From where comes that form of life confidence? When did I stop trusting reality to not be difficult every second that I inhale? These questions emerge against the backdrop of relocating the household and all effects to a different town. There are so many tasks - a herd of details requiring attention and action to enable a successful and hopefully smooth transition. But can I perhaps be more mediocre in my move, less smooth, more inattentive, less pre-emptive? Can I leave the dust in corners, not prep so much before the pre-pack day, let items be gathered in hurried collections and leave the bulk of the work to what may be one removalist who packs endlessly for one day and most of the next whilst others with muscle and tetris skills stuff things into a couple of truck containers? How much do I need to do? How much can I leave to others? I like to handle it all. I can be assured of quality and more assured of outcome - that the balls will fall into places where I can find them. But I am also prepping because of fear, that anxiety that says I shouldn't be a bother to others, I need to keep the evidence of my life (my hobbies, my likes, my task-easing tools) manageable and smaller than it looks to me. I need my household to not be such a bother to another that they are careless and dismissive of all those items which have relevance and importance to me and my kin. And I NEED to not do anything 'wrong', because doing wrong brings punishment. Punishment costs and I feel especially low on resources. Unfortunately, doing right or not doing much at all can also bring punishment; a response dependant on the human being interacted with, or on the seemingly contrary mathematics by which this reality chooses the probability of events and outcomes to unfold around us. Which brings me back to the acknowledgement of those unfortunate sensations generated by the uncertain possibilities of how strangers are going to act and respond within the framework of our important life event - the moving of a household. What subtext am I dealing with here? I am anxious about having stuff. Stuff gets broken, lost, degrades. Would that matter to me so much if my personality cared less about the details? Jan 22 2026: I admit to having spent more than an hour tonight auto-scrolling through Youtube. My brain is in decision fatigue. I can't even find the bits and pieces to process how I feel. Moving house sucks at the best of times. We are supposed to be moving next week. Our removals case manager is 'hoping to be able to give us a confirmed uplift date' by the end of tomorrow. The uplift was supposed to be in 6 days time. We were operating under a belief that this was already confirmed. But who knows really. The next tenants have already started having their mail sent to the house we still live in, so I guess they have more confidence of a removals company taking on the tender and showing up than I do at this point. Who has their mail sent to a house they don't live in yet? Meanwhile we keep shifting the dates of bookings we make to work with the fluid dates of companies who seem adverse to doing the task they are contracted by Federal government organisations to do. I should be going to bed, not scrolling, not tapping out words with my eyes closed. I think tomorrow I will start it off with a decent go at having a blood-bubbling belly laugh. Then I will pack some boxes - we went and bought our own rather than wait on the Toll chosen removalist. Then I will mow the lawn, maybe clean out the garbage bins, wrap some large crystals and think about how much I intend to stash behind the seats of the car for the journey rather than letting the strangers put them into the back of a large truck. I'm sure they would all be perfectly safe. Mostly I am thinking about those people whose names I now know who are sending their mail to my house, important mail by the looks of it. That's next level trust I reckon. What do they think is going to happen to it? Maybe they are tired of waiting for the house to be empty? I have been thinking about the Sigils this week. Don't know why. There is movement in the etha's most likely that is pushing my mind to think about them and broadcast something. But there is also that decision fatigue and a general reluctance to make noise by reminding the internet that I exist. Wondering at the objective of my human life on a regular basis. I am not complaining, more like tapping out a rhythm of familiar thoughts shared by many who don't have a clue much like me. Yep, definitely time to go lie down.

Making an effort to stay in the 'now', to ignore the wtf-ery of the house move that has dominated my life for months now. I do not move houses well, it takes a lot to ground into a place and a lot to relocate. This time around there is so much bizarre energy around the move. Like today for instance, the Toll Transitions case manager finally called, 2 1/2 weeks out from a proposed pre-pack and still not tendered the job, and says we have to 'dissassemble all Ikea furniture'. Like wtf. No really - wtf. Ikea furniture is not put together only with allen key bolts. It involves wood screws, wood dowels, some hefty whacks of a mallet to seat said dowels and at least a half a day of intense concentration. There are so many pieces - bolts, screws, drawer runners etc. And once you remove a wood screw and put it back into same hole - is it going to be as sturdy as the first time around? I don't think Mary has ever built a piece of Ikea furniture in her life. It is not Lego. The Toll rep with his tablet who came around more than a month ago said we didn't have to disassemble anything, just the usual beds and some large shelving. I know I won't be dissassembling any Ikea furniture in the next couple of weeks - where does all the stuff in the drawers, cupboards and shelves sit while waiting for the pre-pack the day before uplift? How do they safely pack and transport the 5 plus foot tall pieces of glass currently safely attached to the side of a cabinet once you pull the thing all apart? Did I say WTF already?? Isn't it easier to pick up, stack and wrap a whole piece of furniture than a myriad of many odd shaped pieces???? Have you seen the elaborately engineered packaging that Ikea furniture comes flat packed in??? Do you know the lengths they go to to keep everything together and undamaged in transit? Is 'Joe's removals' from Sydney going to be able to pack that shit back into some magic custom box for the ride? Yes, yes I am thoroughly and inexpressably over it. We still have not locked in a house, the job is not yet actually tendered, the amended condition report we submitted in 2019 mysteriously dissappeared from the property management's system in the past year, just in time to hit us for a bill to rectify something that was existing when we arrived here but not on their original condition report. I just want some boxes so I can get started on this pack. No way can one person from a removals company pack it all in one day the day before a truck arrives. But we don't get boxes until someone takes the job, and that requires a fracking tender. And too bad if Mary thinks we 'have a lot of stuff'!! I have two dining chairs and a small dining table ffs, a single 3 seater lounge and the furniture required to put stuff in so I can have a life with handcrafts in it. I don't have a room full of yarn and fabric, or a room full of sound systems, alcohol, a pool table or shelves and shelves of books. I keep culling my life so it is easier to move, and it still is too difficult for someone. Hey, I'm not even getting them to pack and shift my extensive collection of rocks!!! At this point it may be evident that I do not do discombobulation of environment well. I am writing this out in a blog post because today's wtf has overfilled my 'this is too stupid to find a place for' basket. This may seem like unimportant small-obstacle stuff to someone reading. Keep in mind that I am only relaying here a couple of details, the rest is too much of a rollercoaster of mountains, sharp turns and corkscrews for me to find the mental energy to recount in words. I have been working on the move tasks as my physical energy and the weather allows over weeks and months. Today is evidence of why I start early. It was 39'c, tomorrow will be 40', the day after is heading for 42' (107.6F) and humid. In whimsical moments I wonder what will come first - a truck or the fiery end of a people determined to kill every bee still clinging to life. I don't even want to 'just be at the other end' anymore. I'm looking for a dark hole with soft mossy sides and a slow rainy drip to curl up in and forget that there is a whole western world out here doing it's own crazy shit with a dystopian reality that is at its happiest if you have no stuff, keep all garden beds free of growing things, only use generic drop-down options, can be specific with your items so you are covered by their insurance but not too specific because that creates a need for thinking on their part, don't confuse anyone by calling a dining table a 'table', and make sure that you fulfill all YOUR obligations and responsbilities so they can completely drop every ball they are handed as a part of the job that they are paid to do - while you look for the camomile flowers and brew your umpteenth calming tisane. Smiles, smiles, smiles. I'd better go order some more anti-inflammatory dried Hibiscus flowers and maybe some Bacopa. Love to you all. May 2026 not kick your arse into 2027. And if it looks like it is going to, may your InterStellar family pick you up early before the real fuss begins.

As at Sept 13 2025: Flowing as an electric buzz across the back of my head from ear-to-ear, and more infrequently sparking through the membranes of my heart space, is the tug to show up here, to invest a little time into the me who created and maintained this site and those attached to it over some 8 years. I feel a tad abandoned by myself and wonder what I should do about the feeling. I have had a multiplicity of hopes, goals or anticipations, now stored in a selection of plastic crates and IKEA drawers, which call on occasion to be undone, finished, discarded or kept for the sake of being able to say to myself that I did try something of living. Not to mention the cost of the outlay in materials and time. What do I do with that? I live in a rapidly revolving precession of days which feels timeless, with an echoey quality reminiscent of a vast hall prepared for a banquet which no-one was available to attend. Am I both relieved and confused by the outcomes of my life? Yes, yes I am. I still speak the language of stars and spheres daily, communicating into the spaces between to unseen recipients and companions. I have not been otherwise unproductive, keeping knitting needles and crochet hooks moving, filling a drawer with socks and making things to hold things. I go outside, smell the flowers and air - sometimes rich with the moist decomposition of neighbouring bushland and I can imagine simple days by campfires buried deep in the wilds of a land separate from human industrialization, urban housing development and freeways. Above any other veil-thin thoughts is the acknowledgement that I may be actively engaged in waiting whilst not thinking too hard about what it is that I may be waiting for. Sept 21 2025: Ha, I came here on this date to add something, and then - distraction happened apparently, so I write this on Oct 21 2025 as a note to myself that I did show up a month ago, although briefly. Oct 21 2025: So here I am in a new paragraph to see if more words will splatter out onto this backlit page. I begin to share some thoughts around current happenings or upcoming events in my life and soon delete. I know the significance of privacy when confronting a rapacious world running its simulation models in a closed system experiencing energy deficit. If you speak too loudly in open spaces about your current wails or woes (and joys) there is a heightened probability of some entity, or consortium of such, sending waves of chaos, calamity or even mild constant irritants to press those emotions into a fragrant lifeforce ambrosia and slosh about drunk on your turmoil. I do not wish to be something else's wild rave. So what can I share with you, Dear Reader? What words might nourish us both? 2025 is progressing much how I anticipated it would, how my People foreshadowed it to be. The basics were that it would be a year of not much up until September, at which point to 'be ready for the rockiness, the spike of not so nice', and to 'watch out for it'. September did indeed have more 'hug a plushie' moments than the months preceding; not so much because of real-time events but the energies our orbits moved into. It felt like the rails of a dangerous ride had fallen off and all the molecules of life were in free-fall. With it came the haunted wailing of tormented worlds - lamenting broken masts and torn sails, comrades lost overboard and riches missed on unpredictable currents. Such is the ambient theme of this human living, constructed with rivets forged under constant pressure to make more, be more, go further. Rise higher, evolve, ascend, cleanse, heal, purge, understand, be whole, love more, give more, enjoy more, experience more - how to exhaust the fading gasps of creative energy pushing us out of this evaporating world. I have been hitching a ride on the Mothership of 'Not Doing'. Not doing anything about anything much. There is not presently a vast well of 'do it' manifestation matter available for molding life pathways and lasting experiences. All is in Transit - avoid anchors to building, to projects, to concrete life structures and long-term plans. The World Machine is shaking violently so piling sand, grain by grain, into soft castles on trembling shores is an outlay of force best not expended. Oct 30 2025: ... Aaaand back again. I am going to write this post to its end eventually. My back-brain says that there is a little speck more to add, so I wait with fingers poised to catch the words as they tumble by. Overriding my life is a recurring desire to 'be somewhere else', 'doing something else'. Like a sock in a washing machine I twist about on swirling waters in a rinse cycle which has been stuck on repeat for years. Time passes, the body ages, I come up to gulp at air or sink to the bottom and taste the detritus of life's messes. I try to remember those moments of hanging out on a line and feeling the joy of an early spring breeze in golden afternoon light. But always I am looking for the other sock. Is this normal? Do you experience it as well? I put it down to the movement of this galactic region of consciousness in a state of constant shift and upcycling to reach unmarred plates of reality. We can't settle because the substance of the world is unsettled - grains of sand in the howling cosmic winds and crashing forces of celestial bodies in changing orbits. Well done if you and Yours are maintaining that facade of static existence in and around your habitat. Peace and calm understanding to you Dear Reader. I make an appointment to come again and hope to see you here. Published on: The Nothing in Between , 03/11/2025

< Back Singing in Silence The Splashing Dance 10 July 2021 Often I wish I had a lick of knowing what to write to present my work or to engage with people. Yet engaging with people seems not to be my strong function. I work constantly on the inner landscape, in a way which leaves me with ports not much suited to dock with others and exchange thoughts or frequency. I continue to broadcast because that is also my nature. In my 'Journal of Intermittent Misery', I wrote about the difficulty felt in putting a piece of SpheresData into a basic video and broadcasting on Youtube. I do my work because it is a torrent of data which flows like water from the earth. It would crack through any stopper valve I ever tried to shove into place to stop that cascade and go live a 'normal' life. I do not enjoy how the way of my work and my emanating persona place me into a void space, a still traverse where others seem not to walk often or at all. I cannot entice folk to engage with me much. Encouraging breakthrough would be welcomed by multitudes. Settings Previous Next

Words strung together into sentences. Open Arena - Words to Share in Open Places About the Vessel Intercept Live Stream Feb 17 2022 - Intergalactic Conglomeration of Consciousness technical data stream Read More "Light Language" Merely a Term Read More I Can Learn How to reduce suffering Read More A Contactee Stringing Thoughts Read More Signalling Kin Still Here Read More About Member Access A preference Read More Around Again The Sleep of Industry Read More Little Vole Reformation Read More Architects Hard Hat Area Read More Singing in Silence The Splashing Dance Read More Processes and Pursuits OtherLands Read More The Alien Experience A Holograph Beyond Me Read More A Nothing Something That Wordpress Blog Read More A Twisting Thought Wondering about how things are. Read More Back to 2019 A Spherespeak video release Read More

< Back The Alien Experience A Holograph Beyond Me 14 June 2021 The idea of an encounter with peoples or beings of civilisations other than EArth human and with an alternate and more sophisticated understanding of the reality in terms of technology and manipulation of matter is appealing. How many times have I stared at the skies and petulantly decried my lack of such interactions. My reality holograph is extremely stable: which means I see no spheres, no amorphous gases, no ectoplasms, phantasma, warping portals, disguised spacecraft, or fast moving unidentifiable objects of any kind. It just is not a thing for me. All of my interaction is via the inner mind scape, using the data imaging available to human brains, and through the visceral reaction within mental/emotion/physical body systems. Having the kinds of visual experiences reported across social media takes a lot of outlay of energy resource, and processing capacity upon the holographic plates, not to mention paying for the time to use the human mind networks to inlay the image of it. And I do not appear to have those kinds of connections. My People come from further out, and glide in under the radars and the reality plating matrices and past the unauthorized protocols of conglomerates and councils calling themselves altruistic or otherwise. But still - a shiny orb or two would be nice. My pique at being 'left out' of the full holo experience of the non-normal is soothed by imagining that I am better served by a low profile. What point of consciousness working on uncommon projects is benefited by having ultra beings pop in and out, or buzz overhead? Isn't a circling flap of scavengers the quickest way to find a carcass in the desert? Or a screeching play of giddy toddlers with balloons the best way to find that birthday party at the park? Settings Previous Next