I enjoy the ineffable quality of my experience. I enjoy the choosing of a story to ride inside of whilst I am hanging out in humansville, having previously sat outside of every story I could identify. I enjoy finding a motivation within the concept offered by a story which is my interface to the shared reality field, manifest within the place of perception I detect in a way unique to the human body/mind/personality complex. I enjoy not saying that reality is nothing, even if it can be perceived as such. Whilst I am eating cake, it is cake. It does not have to be the unfathomable nature of conscious existence. I enjoy discovering thoughts useful to me in my bridging of interactions which, for the most part, are completely mysterious to me, even those with manifest physical lifeforms; because whilst I use labels to assist in the interaction with those who grasp perceptions by the use of them, my private experience is more fluid, having no set image for the ocean my mind swims within. Gnosis, being birthed from the narrow bandwidth of human mental confidence in perception based upon an agreed set of meanings, does little for my Spirit but stir up deep waters indescribable to it. I enjoy anonymity, the slipstream suits me well. I do my thing, given to me to do by my larger Self in agreement with my present Function, having no desire to convince any other of the efficacy of my data. Competition is not my form, nor my design. I will emanate and emanate here, until I leave here.

This audio is an Eth'A data transmission recorded Dec 30 2018 (Dec 29 2018 UT). At the time I labelled it 'Pinging the Void'. Today a piece of research was brought to my attention - the recording of a Super stellar flare [GWAC 181229A] of impressive magnitude from approximately 150pc away on Dec 29 2018 UT (the date of this transmission). A pc is a parsec equalling 3.6 lightyears. So this flare was determined to be approximately 489 lightyears from Earth by current methods of measuring space distance. This super flare could therefore have been emitted some 490 years ago, and was seen 2 years ago on Earth. Super Flare paper: https://arxiv.org/pdf/2012.14126.pdf My Eth'A associates have requested that this data be re-uploaded to the web. I had it on a personal website for a long while, but it never went into the YT network. The matching of the audio with the images of data recorded on Dec 29 2018 UT but only just released in a paper today - the same day two years later - serves to calibrate the position of data transfer relays through time flows. Additionally I have included images of Spherescript writings and drawings seeming to be relevant to the overall purpose of today's upload. I am assisting galactic level form in conjunction with universal level mind to synchronise across space-time, resetting and adjusting the communications relays used to do this.

This vid is an upload from August 2016. Re-sharing for reasons unknown. It seems to be a part of an un-braiding of meditation streams which I am in the midst of still. A meditation stream could also be called a person's story. This is the version of reality they create with their actions and focused attention. The purpose of mass meditations is obviously to get a whole bunch of minds to agree on one version of something simultaneously and thus bring it about through belief. When someone weaves you or your output into their story as a supporting character it can drastically pull your own story off on a tangent not in line with what you want for yourself. The more skilled the mind at meditative focus on an outcome (like a habitual worrier), the greater the effect on your stream of output. You can end up exhausted from pulling back in the opposite direction all day. I have been un-braiding my own streams and the streams that my Family group and associates are using. This video is part of the weave somehow. I don't need to know the details really. A truly 'co-operative co-creation' is one in which beings are able to maintain the integrity of their own stream - their own dreamtime - and share the flow, assisting one another to manifest rather than compete for space and resource in the flow whilst hacking each other's dreaming to pieces as if no one else exists and all resource is for the taking. Folks can play nice in the playground, or they can be the one who hogs all the swings.

Oftentimes I really dislike the sound of my own voice. It isn't the tone or style my ear is trained to want to hear. I find it so folksy operatic, and not necessarily in a pleasant Kathryn Grayson 1950's kind of way. It feels so damn uncomfortable to sound like this in a pop and rock era. I went into my closet to record on Dec 14 - yes the eclipse day, I am aware - but have not been able to come near the recording until late today, and now I am stalled in the last third. Because it is so so so Snow White warbly. There are no sweet blue birds here twittering gayly on my finger. Running Etheric data sure isn't likely to all sound like Maria Carey, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince, or Guy Sebastian, but what I would like is to reach a moment of sounding confidently kooky and not reluctantly stretched. Why could I not come in as an Australian Alanis Morissette? There's a lass with a nice set of pipes. I am a-feared of the higher registers, have not ever been able to grasp their location on the vocal chords and yet my CI wants to put a heap of data out on that scale. I'm like, bitch please, can we not? Can we mime and just say we did? "Insert data here" and move on? This is the ego hatin' on its self for whatever childhood or pre-life trauma reason, I get it, I'm not daft to it, but it shits me to tears; like seemingly pointless arguments which end friendships, and reaching the final admission that to alter that abdominal girth - persistent and regular movement is required no matter how much it hurts. I am crappy at 'human-ing'. There is zero drive to be accomplished at any of the human-ing things, yet the sharp pinch of awkwardness to be seen to be a total goof likes to join me for sound sessions and any other basic life activity. It is not that I do not apply effort. Two years of almost daily exercise and I can now stagger a little faster than before. This is progress and I celebrate it. I could practice vocal scales and exercises - the Pleiades know I've tried, and the Sirians mourn my lack of application - but guess what? I am afraid of my own volume. The sound and loudness of my own Colour scares me to muteness. Add to this the very real and quantifiable phenomena of obstructions to etheric structures hampering certain waveforms from expressing along channels which I can access, and I'm just a hot mess of Crayola crayons left on the pavement on an Aussie Boxing Day when it's time to go in for Christmas leftovers lunch. I am looking to grab the time to find comfort in this life which I am in; the time to shake off the straight-jacket of expectation to be something other than what I may just be - disliking of physical activity, attention deficit, lacking ambition, round and squat like a gnome, hyper-focused on one special interest, preferring of telepathic communication, socially distant, intolerant of fools, unable to listen to psychics for longer than 15secs, and a mad woman who speaks to aliens broadcasting from the outer Rimm of the solar system via Saturnian satellite systems whilst we play out the end stage of a grand time war. YEAH!!! Let us all kick some more arse in 2021. Auṃ maṇi padme hūṃ

Speaking up for yourself to what appears to be yourself is hard slog. These unkind sounds that play over and over into your life just don't let up, and I don't think they ever intend to either. Some things get so broken there is no fruit in persisting with a repair, and it is increasingly more helpful to abandon the form and move to a place more capacitated towards creative outlays. Some voices just will not ever give up their secrets, let you know their origin, give you a route to their root so you can dig it out. Distance is the most efficient option in this case. I recorded today as part of my ongoing work to release Form 726 - a persona shape of some sort which also holds the data of CI as it creates within physical matrices. We have chosen a move to Form 724. 726 is braided with very angry streams and the outlay of English and sound to enhance a move went into the angry range of colours. It is not that anger is a choice of expression I prefer, but that it is woven into the waveform on which my CI expresses persona in form. These waveforms are streams on which data flows and there are limited numbers of them in use. Most are shared by many many CI. Some were abandoned for a long time by their originators and misappropriated for less than stella functions - like holding the most discombobulated energies and emotions of a species too young and immature to know how to handle emotion - so they shove it off into the 'dark'. But the 'dark' just happens to be the unseen colour of creation movement used by very aged CI, who now incoming must swim with the effluent until they wash the water clear again. People look into the dark and see monsters. They are gazing through polluted water at indistinct forms whose distorted image looks frightening. This is not the truth of the CI which lives there. I am outlaying English again to form the scaffolding for an etheric work. Today I typed a bit more of the English in what will be transcript no.9, and realised that I had written back on Sept 21 "embrace communication for 724 and begin dialogue of- ". The process of expressing data begins to form pattern and meaning to me as I look back over work to see the trail left.

Gaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh. Uuuuaaaagggggghhhhh. The full up inside pushes and hurts. Where to put it? Where to release it? Where to spill it? I don't have my shit together, never have. I'm just barely hanging on to the side of the slops bucket most days. I do a really good impression of handling life, but really my field of view is so diverse from the mental state required for successful living in human society, that I just go moment to moment on the hope that I don't fuck something up for myself, or bring aggressive calamity my way just by breathing. I question regularly why power and authority within the human government, from household to global level, is so ineffectual. Why must there be a continued battle between desire for harmony and desire for dominion? When does the battery of the war machine discharge? How many more lifetimes do you think? I do the work, I labour long on the ethers, I feel the shifts. And the human continues with its madness, its storytelling, its illusions, its combat. Yet even the non-changing-ness of the world around me is likely to be an illusion; a thing kept in place to avoid yet more rolling into chaotic distress for the human mind not aware of what roils around it in the cosmic waters. Progression does not look like Perfection. I wonder why I write this, and question where the thoughts come from. I wonder why the content of this whole website is what my life looks like. I am not able to look like anything else. And that is also curious to me. I am rough, I un-educated myself, removing knowledge and distancing my mind from human information. It seems likely that I will keep talking around and around in circles, walking the same track of pondering conversation until I step onto the next track available to me which I have been avoiding. That track is the place where I write about being in direct communication with non-Terran intelligence - a subject I just dance around the edge of with quaint speak of spirit and connecting to the larger self. What is that if not Alien to this planet? So who are they? Who is NI'merrah, who is Miina, who is Yahh? Who is Drahk Fae Nu Meylin, who is Eama ? What are the "I'ma Survivor" points? Who are the Pods? Who is Rhee'anna? What is Alice? What is Richard and so too what is Peter? What is I'ma (I'm a?) Survivor 721 and what is it streaming? Am I going to get any clear answers to such queries or do I just get to keep transposing weirdness for the next 4 decades or so? Gah.

Logging in to a little used app on my iphone today, I found a 'recovered' document, not saved and just floating in the nether. It had a date which disappeared after I properly saved it so I have no clue when I wrote it. I can hardly even recall the moment of writing it either. I was vaguely half asleep I think. It's one of those prose stories which bubble out like spring water from rock. English words flow out of my brain like the spherespeak flows from my tongue with seemingly no known origin within a bed of thought. I write them and then stand back to see what picture they made. Elder Rose Breath stopped Eyes stared Lights fled The Father of Lights queried And lies were told. Vortices twisted Portals opened Spheres were tethered The mother of oceans shouted And sons ignored. Daughters schemed Ocean mother wept Grand daughters birthed deformed Ocean mother slept And the waters muddied. Eldest Sister Weaver of light fathers, Celestial Rose, Spinner of spheres and bridges, Marked the screaming Silence.

My main etheric functions include the receiving, installing and running of vocal format code for a newly forming reality creation stream - the flow on which All of All is moving and producing new potentials of life experience. I record this vocalisation of data and upload for inclusion into the reality matrix accessed via digital platforms. I do try to keep an eye on what else is happening in the (awakening consciousness/earth shift) arena of thought and experience, but I don't have the capacity to listen to 1:30-3hr long interviews folks are doing back and forth. When I have spare ear-time I listen to my own recordings, as that appears to be one of their main purposes (for me to have a familiar sound to listen to, and to assimilate the data into human form format). I write blog posts which I then erase, seeing as most words appear to have more usefulness unsaid rather than added to the pool. It is seemingly impossible to express thoughts formed within the personality without encountering some distortion either in the forming, the delivery, or the receiving. What follows is a mash of various unfinished blog posts: thoughts spurting like juice from a squished grape. I am important to mySelf. This is a decent reason for why I put such focused effort into what I outlay. Making the best recordings I can with what I have, creating the best version of images I can, investing my focused energy into presentation - because I place importance on myself and my need to communicate honestly with and for myself. I enjoy what I create; in the way a gardener enjoys the results of cultivation. There is a great probability that I try too hard, but truth be - I have no idea how to do what I do any other way. That is - with less focus and less intensity. I have no idea how to do anything else other than what I am propelled to do either. More recently, the Eth'A work has come with a greater sense of requiring precision in the timing, like any large project with scheduling goals. The projected notion that anything relating to 'higher consciousness' or the 'earth awakening', or spirituality in general, should be done with vast amounts of joy, fun and leisure, and ease of tasks is not something which my own experience and understanding can evidentially support as a universal truth. It may be the outlay and plan for many pathways of movement into new paradigms, but this does not make it an indicator for a right or wrong way of doing consciousness development. My companions in other etheric locales and I are not setting about making our tasks as difficult as can be - we are doing the exact opposite of that - but they aren't kindergarten activities which we play with and some effort is required to reach a preferred outcome. Quite to my consternation, I have an anxious personality. It is the Form Architecture I was born into. No amount of meditation and mental training is going to completely change the way in which my brain functions, unless I could manage a total nervous system reset and reconfigure. You can bet I am working on it! Anxiety is not my preferred state. Quite often I cannot find the source. It may even be that a neighbour has a new device and is broadcasting another wifi signal, or blutooth. Work trucks and tradesmen utes hurt my body a lot, and I could not tell you why in a way supportable by measurable data. Devices have sentience, yes, yes they do. They have installed software which operates in a way I can detect, like a room filled with people yelling useless information that my ears cannot hear but which agitates the brain and neurotransmitters in the gut, or overloads the heart-field. I am not much good with discussion relating to 'abundance flow', because that is not a concept I hold a pattern of belief on. This topic people call 'their right to abundance', and the 'flow of abundance' and 'their divine inheritance', I do not have a framework of thought that I can hang it on. So when asked, my responses will not follow the route of popularised opinion on it. I think it a child-like statement to say we 'have a right' to anything. I see it as a statement which personifies an impartial universe pattern, expecting an equational outcome which sums always in our favour. Why would it? If events always sum in your favour within a polarised reality, then it seems logical to expect that for someone else they must sum always to their detriment. So your abundance is being paid for by someone else - how does that sit with you? These thoughts are why I go for Balance rather than Abundance. In Balance, the equals points of all resource equations have points of opportunity which are equally positioned for all to experience a thriving environment. Abundance means more than enough. Why does anyone need to receive more than they require? Isn't that the upper levels of the pyramid of commerce? Through the years of practicing the process of self expression, I came to realise that most urges to write blog posts are precipitated by a debate in the ethers begun by another mind. This is another reason why I will start a post and not publish it, but wait and watch the net. With eerie regularity, within 12-24 hours I will see someone else post or blog on the same subject, usually expressing a position diverse to mine - as if we were debating 'off screen'. So whose thoughts do we express really?

Many times, we need to chill the f*ck out. So much expectation, fear, angst, striving, distress. All caused by thinking, and feeling based on thoughts. For now, I am going to find a thread of 'chill the f*ck out' and pull it a whole lot closer. I work on websites and recordings, and other art and writing related things a lot, because I enjoy playing with website layout and feel most myself when outlaying my frequency in those expressions. Life is pretty mundane for most of us, we don't have lives like those presented in scripted shows and instagram accounts. I don't even manage to manifest a day by a creek with a fire like the one in the video shared here. I use Youtube to visit the outdoors of wild beauty, and Youtube to hear the soft voice of strangers who want nothing from me. I visit art galleries via Pinterest, and see lovely scenery and architecture there too. I live in modern suburbia, with loud traffic, artless architecture, streaming busy-ness, dwindling greenery, millions of people, an hour drive to find a vista, no silence, no stillness, harsh sounds and constant wi-fi bombardment. I do my utmost best to keep an even keel and find beauty in a single moment, which I can stretch out to fill a space around me to move in. I don't meet with people. I don't take walks in the woods. I don't sit by streams. (Not because I couldn't be bothered to take the time, but because the environment of life does not facilitate these experiences). I stand outside on concrete and take deep grateful breaths of air which smell mildly of wet trees occasionally or pleasantly smokey from a nearby backyard grill. There is a narrow tract of bushland nearby which I am so thankful for some might think it was the wilds of Australian backlands. I am relieved that I do not live on a garbage dump, although garbage does collect along the sides of the roads. Dumping their garbage is what people do. My life experience has been one of crisis and housework. That's it pretty much. And so what? Some years back, I ceased with pushing to make a life experience as per human expectation, and just pulled up anchors to let the wild weirdness of something undefinable take the course of my boat into hidden waters. Now to develop the fortitude to stand up in my boat, wearing whatever clothes came stuffed under the seats, because it doesn't matter if I feel awkward and it doesn't matter if I look tubby and it doesn't matter if I do not fit societal norms in any genre of culture. This is just a slipstream ride and I need to chill the f*ck out to enjoy it more.

I followed intuitive instruction to put the latest audio recorded 14 Oct 2020 with WindWeaves into a video and upload to Youtube. It was a lot quicker to produce than I anticipated. Seems I am learning how to use the software more effectively, that's nice. Actually I had a convo with my larger mind and said "look, that's gonna take a long while and I can tell you want it fast. Show me how to do bulk edit of frames." And whalla, found out how really quickly, when I have looked before and not figured it out. Progress! There won't be any much speak here about what this recording is about. I prefer to keep it uncategorised, unlabelled, and unnumbered by local minds - my own included.

Stepping across our small backyard which I do not have to work hard to maintain, I take a deep breath of cool air. There is no smoke in it, no pollution that I can detect. I take another breath and acknowledge the lack of painful spasm around the sternum, my diaphragm is not burning and there is no sharp grab around my lower back. The chirp of crickets can match the wave sounds of freeway traffic, and a breeze with high notes blows my hair. I am carrying a bucket of water to the corner patch of grasses and tip it out, over-extending my reach with stress on back muscles and tissue, yet there is no pain and I do not topple awkwardly. As I turn and walk back to the side door there is no anxious struggle for air into tight-bound lungs, and I have plenty of motivation to place the empty bucket on the ground and switch tasks to pulling washing off the line. My arms reach above my head and hold the pose whilst pulling pegs, and no bone-scrapping ache numbs my shoulders. Clothes fill the basket and still there is force left to tilt my head back and catch the light of a few stars bright enough to outshine city lights. The weight of my head rests back on neck tendons which are not screaming agonised protest at the strain, and there is no discomfort in starring at distant planets above me. Tall, softly whispering gum trees sway off a ways beyond our metal fence. I see their outline on the darkening night blanket. There is no war here, there is no immediate danger outside my gate. I have water for plants and for drinking. There is food in my cupboards, modern fridge, and the local supermarket. All my family members are safe. I know where they are. I can contact them instantly with my mobile phone. Those living in the same house with me all do so in companionable harmony. I pick up the hefty basket, newly purchased, and note that nothing hurts, I am not breathless, dizzy or wanting to curl up and disappear. I can reposition the basket on my hip which does not take my breath away from painful nerve pressure. Manoeuvring inside with a large basket and self-closing door is not a hardship and bending to place the basket on the floor can be accomplished in a measured steady movement rather than painful drop. I do not need to place my hands on my knees to push myself upright. I send gratitude to myself for having manifested this. An environment with less stressfulness embedded in it (at least at night), a body with less pain. On occasion others have called me lucky. Lucky because I have a husband still. Lucky because I can still have provision even though I do not have a job. I do not call myself lucky. I call myself hard-working. I am persistent, consistent, and demanding of the ethers and my CI. I do not cease with my labour. Perhaps I should, just a little, and watch those tree tops more often. Summer will be here soon enough, and I am already in conversation with my CI and Others about the difficulties of that season. Right now I enjoy cooler nights than those of Northern Australia and give more thanks to myself for manifesting a southern shift. Today, pain is negligible, more reason for congratulations to Self. This right-now moment was years in planning and work. In my experience, body improvements and environment allowances are not handed out by sweet-faced ethereal beings who tell me I rightfully deserve it. They come from hard work. If I waited for it to come with easefulness, I would be waiting a long long while. This is the colour of my journey for now.

To me, the aim of spiritual growth is to be able to form clear communication with your greater CI, and to receive useful knowledge and wisdom to assist in navigating the difficulties of this human life, to be a bridge to the other parts of your Self and foster balance within the turbulence which is this human/earth reality. This does not necessarily mean finding peace, or finding bliss, or finding happiness, or finding financial support. None of those states are of themselves indicators of the attainment of a greater degree of spiritual maturity. A murderer, liar or cheat can feel and experience the same. There is no need to feel unhappy if you do not feel happy. The idea that the earth human plane is an open field of opportunity where labour and commitment to principals will bring the rewards of peace and bounty is just that - an idea - a projected thought. The fact that it becomes a truth for a person's life path does not make it a truth overall, nor a foundational function within this present reality. There is also no evidential support for the idea that this reality is as a whole a system of loving-kindness, underpinned by a benevolent sentience. Are there benevolent beings within the planes of the detectable reality? I would say yes. Are they the god of all and able to grant your earnest desires for health, providence and harmonious purpose like a jolly parent handing out tasty sandwiches? I do not really think so myself. A life spotted with betrayal, smacked with contention, lacking in resource, having no range of experience beyond mundane walls is not evidence of a lack of spiritual attainment. It is evidence of a difficult situation. I have walked a path of seeking spiritual understanding since I was old enough to observe and reason. I have sought for the invisible planes which seemed to me to hold firm memory of greater connectivity, compassion, sense, sanity and harmony this entire life and always the sound barricade between layers kept me out. This plane I live on leaves me feeling underwhelmed by colourlessness and wrapped in distressed frequency. Yet in no way do I feel that I am failing at my spiritual journey, nor do I feel that the state of happiness or freedom from this cacophony of mediocre sensory input is my aim. This is a damaged realm. To feel depressed and hopeless here is to be expected. Even more so if you are seeking to engage more complex conscious awareness. You see more, feel more, understand more, all whilst seeking to become less engaged in the machinations of it. How my spiritual life looks is particular to myself, with all the nuances I establish and require according to the preferences of my larger and smaller CI in concert agreeing upon a pathway. My preference is to update my processes regularly. If a paradigm of thought pertaining to the spiritual nature of my reality loses efficacy for me, I will release it, permitting other etheric structures to form. How others perceive my outlay is none of my business at the human level. Presently I enjoy exploring the practice of 'dispassion' towards charged points of information which come my way, and charges which erupt from my own surface in response to stimuli in the ethers. Using the word 'dispassion' in place of other words to conceive of this mode of response has been satisfyingly useful. 'Neutrality' was not so useful. It does not attach readily to a mental lattice of word associations to give a detailed instruction of what 'be neutral' looks, feels and acts like. Be 'dispassionate' hits the mark for me, like hitting the mute switch on emotional outlay and investment. May peace find you at home today.