Dropping into my inner pool, as a bead of crystalled thought, I am the ripple of contact, Concentric beats of imagination. I lay in all directions, A sphere of gathered destinations, Of lines forming arcs. Others meet me here, Voices overlapping None separate Each alone.   Published on: Threads @between.speak , The Nothing in Between Date: 02/04/2024, 11/05/2024 Photo by Izzy Gibson

Reciprocal soul The multiplying inverse of your sum I am your underlying equal By which you are made one whole. With me you find new expression And even though I be made invisible, without me you revert to other factors. I ground you and you raise me up, Together we form one shadow. Published on: Threads @between.speak , The Nothing in Between Date: 08/03/2024, 11/05/2024 Photo by Pixabay

Published on: Threads @between.speak , The Nothing in Between Date: 08/03/2024, 11/05/2024   The woman across the chair circle from Joanne stopped talking to draw a long breath through her nose. Her skinny yoga-pant-hugged arse probably had no issues with sweaty thighs on vinyl seat pads on a muggy January Wednesday. A glance around the group showed some frowns, some sage nodding, some wiping of moist palms on cotton lycra. “I can’t do this”, she affirmed to herself.“What’s that?” Yoga Hermione’s clear voice struck through breathy air. Oh shit, she’d said that out loud? Options flashed through Joanne’s heat-fogged brain. Polite denial? Feigned self-deprecation? Jovial dismissal? Which way should she play it? Reaching suddenly for the satchel she had propped by the chair leg, Joanne stood with more vigour than she felt. “I can’t do this,” she repeated. “I know I should exercise more and socialise more, but I also have a crochet blanket at home I need to finish before autumn hits. So I’m going home – to crochet in the air-con while getting up to move around my house every half hour or so.” Not waiting to filter any responses, Joanne spun, speed-walking out the door and calculating how many steps it might be to the bus stop. Ten minutes later she was sweltering under the metal awning, not even bothering with the steel bench. Someone coughed beside her and she turned to see another 50-ish woman who had also been in the class. The woman coughed again. “Umm, I live in Brandon, are you anywhere near there? I, ah, maybe we could meet up, do some granny squares? There’s a nice lake with paths and, ah, it’s only worth walking close on dark but I don’t like walking alone. Maybe, uhm.” Her face was staining a strawberry red. Joanne recognised the nervous awkwardness. “I’m in Brandon too,” she rushed to her conversation aid. “I know the lake. It’s supposed to get down to 24′ by seven tonight. I walk slow though.” “Oh!” Miss Strawberry breathed with relief. “Me too, like an old dog with bungy legs.” Her smile was gorgeous, like sun on daisies after rain. “My name’s Joanne,” she returned the smile.“Emma. I knit too.”“I made apple muffins last night,” Joanne offered.Emma’s laugh matched her smile. The bus pulled up. It was air-conditioned, the seats would be cloth and the day was improving by the minute. Photo by Diego Pontes on Pexels

I haven’t found it, My favourite marble Whose golden eye pulled me through magical kaleidoscopes. These dull spheres I have left drown me in gloaming pools. If you have it, Leave it by the window So passing dawn can cast warm honey across my bedroom. First published 4 March 2024

If your life was pre-designed to be whack, it will be whack every damn day, not a thing you can do about it. You’re on the whacker wheel of life drifting through dysfunctioning fields of messed-up. Learning to disconnect from the probable emotional and mental tossing waves is your best option of making it through to the pre-determined end with some sensation of ok-ness. The Law of Attraction is a faulty premise, let it go tenderly into the misty ocean spray of those whose pre-design came with chapters programmed to see it work miracles in their scheduled crises. Celebrate the implied compliment that some master programmer noticed you have the fortitude to slosh from peak to valley and remain mostly upright without obvious assistance. Own all wins as the results of your own tenacity, your own brilliance, your own competence. Give no credit away to airy deities, let them feed at other disasters. One sudden moment this is all going to become distant. I am a realist. I report on what is real to me. What is real to me has a high probability of being excessively unreal to many others. This makes my ‘real’ no less so. I experience contact with non-tellurian (earth dweller), non-human intelligence. I access regions of the mind which have little to no seeming connection with the fathomable of everyday human living. I formed my own word terms to describe it because no naming system I have located fits 100% and to use those categories would be a form of falsehood to my inner sense of cosmic ethics. I have no affiliation with religions nor new age beliefs. I have sound, image, sensation – all from a non-local source and remaining unmapped by any conversations I have yet come upon. And so what then do I do with it, with myself? I have been speaking against the nature of this reality for as long as I have noted that I form thought. This realm suffers severe distortion to which I am opposed in each particle of my physical and non-physical presence. I continuously emit those frequencies which suit me as I move with large spheres of associated consciousness through dishevelled regions of spacetime. Today I could not be bothered trying to find words to use which would make this findable or noticeable in social media feeds and searches. You are only going to find this if you are meant to and what I title it makes no difference to that.

Poor trapped soul Thinking light the better part. Afraid of deep shadows Where forgotten things remember. Being found in Matter Light is finite. The Nothing is infinite Being as it is unmeasurable. The Nothing is cast aside in jealousy Of its limitless potential To birth into Khaos all primordial beginnings indefinitely. It is the source of all Light And its End. Radiant Sun, poor bedfellow to my Mistress’s velvet indigo, Ruling over broken numbers as a god resplendent. Mind how you speak to rising Forces Which direct you onto living fields. You are the servant not the master.

Have been working on this post for a couple of weeks at least. Over it, so will post what is here to post, cohesive or not. February 8 2019 - in ‘Draumr‘ the Forum I wrote: “The 'listen to it once and move on' policy does not apply to my work. Crunching through sessions like they are mini M&M's will not get you farther along your path at a cheetah's pace. Be the turtle. Listen over and over, come back to it weeks/months/years later and it will unpack a little more for you. Keep the images in your environment indefinitely. Diligence really does pay off. An oak does not grow to full size in a week after one watering - not in this reality.“ This remains the case. I do not continue to put out new tools because existing outlay has been more than enough to do the work. I still use SFA audio and the Sound Symbol Medicine and WindWeave Systems and many Glyph drawings as my main aids for clearing, stabilizing and developing the patterns of my Form here. I use the creation and arrangement of websites to form a structure which holds a Presence that will affect a person’s fields and mental patterns simply by them being on a site. I pour my energy into it, let it sit and grow things. A Friend reminded me of a recording I made December 2018. It really is lovely and I have uploaded it to SoundCloud to share again for a while. Making designs for Redbubble and other outlets also creates form and dimension for my Resident Frequency. When I get the urge to make an image I am forming a bandwidth for data to travel through. A recent making are the SphereScript Charms. The SphereScript Charm is a small work of Etheric Architecture using colour, frequency flow and my Scripts to convey a state of emotion and a mental field of being. My scripts arrive automatically to my hand as I start to write. They come from the mysterious Greater Self, the expanded consciousness, the Spirit which directs our small human lives. I have made 3 so far and they can be purchased as phone wallpaper downloads from my Ko-fi page (which does take Paypal), or as products like postcards, journals, cards and more from my Redbubble store . Protect Your Peace People, by whatever means you have available.

Those cyclical meteorites of expression I will not be saying anything new by saying that my thoughts return like lumps of frigid rock on regular orbits - some long, some short. In the process of departing from ideas of what I should be doing with life, what I should have tried to achieve, what I should be pushing myself to attempt, what I should be trying to appear as, my thoughts settled into a solar system of silent slowly turning meteors which intersect at regular intervals with my slightly more active mind. They speak again then, to clutter up the periphery of my day with their unanswered questions and stubborn objections to how life has progressed. So what do today’s passing celestials say? Why did I leave the Workforce in 1995 and not ever find my way back into it? Why do I have an intellect which could have done many things but chose to do none of them? Why can I not figure out how to enter social interactions and stay there? Why does life feel like watching someone else’s story through a glass page? Why do I have an urge to write and nothing seems worth the energy investment to write about? Why has life been about survival and finding safety rather than enjoying an adventure? These are all me-centric, and why not? I stopped attempting to insert myself into the ‘solve the world’s crises’ questions, my body ran out of adrenalin for that. I don’t think I need the questions identified, they are all past-oriented, all hourglass shaped pins in expired moments and closed life trajectories. I’ve pulled up the strings and yet here they are, still orbiting, not yet slowed and absorbed by the gravity well of my larger self nor set loose to shoot off into less distracting lines of receding frequency. So my next question is what keeps them as a record to remind at scheduled rendezvous that I might have missed something, and that the missing is causing me some kind of life failure or misfiring. I don’t believe that I could be anywhere but where I am and that place is not so bad. Why is it inappropriate that I became a ‘home person’, putting all of my attention into caring for children, spouse and house? My husband is military and we once calculated that with deployments and training he was away from the home for more than 8 years of the past 24 (when the children were youngest). All that time I parented and managed the house on my own, in near isolation - no co-workers to help with tasks. It exhausted me. Some people can pull that magic off whilst holding down a career, all power to them, I was not one of them - and beat myself up over it. It is highly likely that I am undiagnosed neuro-divergent, socially avoidant, prone to anxiety over things others don’t think much on at all. Why am I writing this out? Because I want to eject this particular pod of irrelevant ‘whys’. I don’t need them. I’ve done my absolute best. So what if I didn’t also hold down a paying job, get a degree, earn a slew of awards and have well-known people recommending my work to their peers? I haven’t made much money but I’ve saved 100’s of 1000’s of dollars in child care, cleaning, counselling and management bills. The rub for me is that the energy expended in all this caring, raising and maintaining (combined with the outflow of years of solid stress over a situation or two not mentioned) appears to have been the majority of that lifeforce allotted me on a daily and yearly basis. I’ve got nothing left in the tank for anything more than knitting, crochet, the occasional potting of a plant, sporadic poetry, and spurts of verbosity on blogging platforms. Why do folk such as myself expect so much of ourselves over our entire lives and keep on expecting from ourselves even after our mind and body has crumpled in a corner, arms over head, wailing ”no more”!? It takes years to come back from the break moment which we often do not acknowledge as reasonably earned. Even amongst all this expectation we take on the pressure to also be saving the planet from the choices of our predecessors and peers, and handing it unsullied to our children who already see the writing on the wall whilst not feeling equipped to tackle it either. What about you? Do you feel that life has been a dumping surf? A swamping tsunami of un-solidified goals which were not your original idea to begin with? Are you in the recovery phase, shuffling through the detox inflammation of decades of expectation, learning to not feel guilty that you have created a sedate life and are actually totally happy about that? Are you like me, having no plans for tomorrow, thinking that your most pressing task may be to make sure your worldly affairs are in order; that you have sorted your garage-stored boxes to make sure you don’t leave a mess for someone else to think about, that you’ve pre-paid your funeral, written your will, established financial power of attorney, and set up a shared document so your spouse has all your device and online passwords ‘in case’? During a wide-angle assessment of how I feel about life up to now, I realised that I may have been doing my very best to make sure the World didn’t notice that I am still here. And if it does, that it can’t prove that I am what it wants to think that I am. If you read to here and have some thoughts, I’d love to read them in the comments section. (Published previously on Substack )

The subscription plan for accessing content which serves as SpheresData support is available on the Plans & Pricing page for $12 AUD for a month. Eth'A Medicines content The Sound Symbol Medicine tracks : ​ 'Settling The Butterfly' 'Retiring the Bodhisattva' SpheresData Support Audio : ​ 'Accept Incoming Divinity' WindWeave Systems 9+: ​ System 9 - Core Structures System 4.2 - TimeFlow Dynamics restructured The SpheresData audio - Accept Incoming Divinity - is a multi voice track recording. There are 5 voice tracks, a drums track (my own drum) and the backing ambient sound 'Aether Wind' by Sonic Medicine and used publicly with permission from Sonic Medicine (Source Vibrations). Like all my Eth'A (SpheresData) audio there is no rehearsal, all is spoken or sung in the flow of the moment, coming from non-local mind, there is no repeating, what comes comes.

A really funny thing has now happened. This entire blog post erased as I selected to open to edit it. This is the second time this has now happened. I don't know what to say about that. Time is erasing behind me perhaps? Because I went through a period of posting same or similar posts to a Wordpress blog , I have a copy of the post which was originally here. I can copy-paste it. This post was written after a period of unpublishing a previous blog, starting again. It was an uncomfortable time. The previous blog is republished and a selection of the posts viewable on the first website . A funny thing happened on the way to silent reconciliation with my own company. I found that the occasional desire to throw words onto a page still existed. Hence the page. And now the words. Not much to say actually. Not in the digitised world anyways. And yet, I am sure that there is something here precipitating this white page and pulsing cursor. Soon I shall be moving house. Leaving this state called Queensland, moving farther south than I have lived in decades. I savour the feel of it, leaving. I look favourably toward the next place, mostly because it is a move, and because I confidently feel that this move is away from a stagnation and twisting coil of anniversaries filled with ridiculous events. There are things from this year and last which some part of my thought field tells me I wish to speak about, but really I do not think that I do. What is the purpose of it? This cataloguing of fuckery, this public retelling of things I found to be excessively daft, imbalanced, yet boringly predictable? Aged anniversaries of appointments with damaged fields of sound. I met a man who made no sense today. He spoke a lot, used many words to support his opinions and observations, yet never actually stated what those were with a clarity which would have made for him a profitable return on the investment of his time and mind. This man I met used the words of others without reference. That seemed strange as he considers himself a scholar. I wonder again if this world is less reasonable than I first thought? I consider how insane it may be in actuality; how limited in colours of creativity; how repetitively spinning through appointments with broken equations of life probabilities. Relief is what I feel approaching as the day of removals rolls closer. I imagine that new equations with more balanced placement of that equals sign are closer to me now than the horizon.

I don't write much anywhere now because there is nothing to add. My experience with the 'ultra-terrestrial' life remains unchanged. I am no more able to make a human-appealing story out of it now than I was 2, 7, or 15 years ago. Nothing new of note is happening in my life. People prefer to stay on their social platform of choice and I have not the desire to be there myself this week. I have been reading back over my past blog posts and see written then what I think now. Most information that I could think of to write is signposting to content already published. I remain bamboozled by the lived experience that this interaction which has shaped and consumed my life as Sherri-Lee is the dullest thing on the face of this planet. A long slow crochet project has more moments of effervescence than being able to communicate the enigmatic signals and ideographic language of ultra-terrestrial, higher-plane-living civilizations; mostly because it cannot be shared and felt in reflection from another, and it does not lead me to experienced engagement with the physical world. More accurately - when shared, the experience makes so few ripples as to be seeming to have no substance at all. I want to create a book. My brain is so dull from the flat-line of living that I can't think of what to put in it. I'm prodding myself to pull together my past works of script and word to populate some pages and it feels like sucking all the salt out of the ocean with a hand vacuum. Why is my life feeling so bland? Probably because I am totally side-lined, on the bench, off the active register of life; which is possibly good because I have no GAF to engage with others much either. Look, can you see? I am repeating myself here. I don't know how I could make it all any different. I get up off my chair and bounce around on my toes just to feel a bit more actively alive. I think most of you who are still following along with me feel a similarity - yes? My brain and body used to have a voice that told me what they would like to do or what would give them a nice and happy feeling. But they are silent like mountain rock and have been for several years. Lactose free chocolate milk is about it. I'm thirsty. I need water. The living world of my environment does nothing to incorporate me into it and I have no self-bullshit left to cajole myself into trying to be a part of it. I have no lust for the life on offer, and I need to reconcile with that sensation. I have learned to recognize when I am in a closed non-receptive state, obviously. It seems to happen after periods of receiving and receiving data from the exterior world which has no relevance or catalyzing effect on my own experience of living, and so in boredom and dissatisfaction I shove the world out and close my windows, latching those storm shutters securely. I protest the enforced stagnation which I am encouraged to accept as living. I can't take anymore encouragement. I am over being encouraged, because the results of outlaying after being encouraged to do or try something are so minimal I have to employ mental magic to see them. Years ago a prophet spoke over me amidst a vortex of supernatural phenomena saying "Your time is Now! No more waiting. A miracle is being delivered" etc and some more things I don't remember, I was too engrossed in standing upright within the power vortex that was swirling around me. And then I waited. And I outlayed, and I laboured, and I laboured some more, and I did the work and then more work. And I am still wondering what this miracle is. My physical world got smaller and smaller, I had less to do with the external machinations of humanity. Perhaps that is my miracle - to be uninvolved with the dealings of a planetful of lower density places of life. Because I am so past wishing to be encouraged, I find myself not able to write words of encouragement to others. I'm feeling that we could just meet ourselves where we are, not striving to be somewhere more put together. Because I definitely am not - put together that is. Another day is passing, I am watching sunlight leave the clouds, feeling grateful for clouds, confident that tomorrow will be another fractal of today. I feel a need to accept this better. This is going to be my life for a long while yet. It is a day since I wrote the preceding paragraph. The sun has already gone on to the northern hemisphere. This merry-go-round is getting faster and faster. I don't even talk to myself as much lately. I start to speak or think and go 'this is so repetitive and not getting me anywhere different' and stop. And all the while my brain feels fatigued. And it is another two sunsets since I wrote this preceding paragraph. So crazy.

I don't know the contents of the books and have no mentor. How to enter the field of conversation on spiritual things? I am going to pose this on my blog and Threads, completely separate from anything anyone else has said or is saying today, yesterday or even the day before. It is just something I have been thinking about when I think of why I don’t feel inclined to contribute to Threads discussing spiritual practice. I have been thinking about how spiritual Threaders (applicable in any forum) appear to preference knowledge backed up by book learning or gained from book learning and discussions around proper practice of rituals (talking about pagan, wicca, animism or any of those subjects people speak about which I can’t speak to). My spiritual communications and understanding came from direct mental transmission with those in spirit (or those other frequencies of reality humans usually can't see) and from the teachings filtering to my mind from my own remembered and stored knowledge – accessing my own higher spirit let’s call it. I have read some things, gleaned an idea of recorded human practices, but am not able to absorb and apply that information – it does not stay in my working mind. Plus, if I am not able to establish an energetic/spiritual balance or rapport with the person who wrote the book, I just cannot stomach the taste of the words and don’t finish the book. I read more in earlier days of transitioning my corporeal being out of christianity, and I’ve gathered a working internal reference of human practices without dedicatedly studying the details and intense histories. I don’t have the brain-space, the spoons nor the use for the material to expend the energy to gather this information and store it permanently in my mind. It becomes the colour in the background not the working program. Spirit speaks to me and we exchange like in a conversation. I do this without ritual. I get information and images and knowing on how to do what - relating specifically to me. Some times I go looking for other’s written or spoken data to see if things are a shared or common experience. This increases confidence in self-ability to ‘know’. All of my knowing of what can be trusted and what not trusted in terms of spirit communication and understanding came from sources outside of human impartation of accumulated knowledge. I have no mentor except my own greater Conscious Intelligence. What this means is that there are minimal windows for me to add my thoughts to the conversations of others because those speaking have seemed more focused on proving and supporting their understandings according to known practices and are especially focused right now on supporting what is termed indigenous and fighting what is called colonialism. It is important for this era’s humans in their spiritual journey to have these conversations. They are not conversations on my path to have. I cannot speak to them. My own human heritage is 25% Irish, 12% Scottish, some Welsh and a bunch of British, with spatterings of Silesian German, Hungarian, Russian, Ashkenazi Jew, Oceania, Laos and things unknown. I have no clan and no human ancestor allegiance. I am trying to figure out how to be human and for the most part it is a confusing puddle of argument and agreement seemingly arbitrarily assigned, functioning on hidden clauses and imprinted beliefs. When I see ‘you’ I see your spirit self, your spirit teams, the earthy ‘heaven’ they are residing within, their level of connection to lower or higher astral planes, their star affiliations, their spirit consortium associations, the belief story they are operating within. In all that I try to figure how to interact with your human mind data and how it is relevant to you on that day. I ran out of cutlery for it. I believe that there are so many more conversations to be had which remain in unspoken swirls because others like me cannot find the place to have an exchange not tethered by human inherited knowledge.