Organizing it’s been awhile

Four years ago I used to publish a blog under an umbrella name, Woody Hollow Distributors. At the time I owned a small business by the same name. Unfortunately that business failed despite herculean efforts to make it a success. It’s not in my nature to drag people thru the mud, especially when they’re your business partner, however in this case, as it turns out; it was a huge mistake to even acknowledge their existence from the first time we met. Yes seriously it was that bad. It’s taken quite a long time to clean up the associated mess, but here I am, back with confidence, ability, clear views about the subject matter, and, some very new fascinating information.

WHD was a blog that talked about the Holy Grail, you know, Jesus’s cup from the last supper. The subject matter is contentious to say the least, but then the truth hurts, people don’t like pain, and are offended oh so easily, the snow flakes. At any rate this blog will be similar to the last, romping all over the known universe tying seemingly very different subjects together and answering the unanswerable. Yes you read that correctly, the Grail isn’t just about a cup or, Jesus Christ, or science and technology; there is not a single aspect of our human existence that in one way or another the Grail doesn’t resonate in.

December 01/19

And that is where the primary differences will appear, as we published under WHD we concentrated on mostly historical information, the Annunaki, their mystery schools, their character; and to a great extent, how our history relates to those incredible events of 500,000 years ago. But we didn’t spend m much time in the spiritual zone, learning about why and how things actually work, how things resonate as truth or bullshit. As we go forward we will explore the Annunaki, their connection to Christ, his “alternate” more likely identity. We’ll explore the mystery schools, what they are, where and when they started, and equally importantly, as an individual how you personally benefit from your belief system.

I, of course, just as a parent, priest, school, or any other organization, have no right whatsoever, to attempt to sway your belief system, that is your right and yours alone, to decide. Now here is the wondrous part about this thing called the Grail, it has the infinite wisdom of allowing you to take as much or as little as you want from it. It is not a religion; it has no priests, no bishops, no Imams, no popes, or shamans. This journey you are about to embark upon is purely personal. You are in charge of your interpretation of what you find here. I will guarantee this much though, it will scare you, excite you, overwhelm you at times, and hopefully when your soul asks you, how deep is the rabbit hole? Your sacred self will answer, I need to know, let us explore!

When I began this journey back in the late 1990s, I was lost, my soul was spiritually bankrupt. My 3rd eye had been pried open by trauma, the loss of my daughter, the loss of my child’s nanny; a woman of whom I’d loved wholly. Hate, fury, repugnance of my first wife and the crimes she committed against our child’s nanny. (Yes, there may be pending legal action). I had been brought up in a middle class home by drug and alcohol addicted parents, as well as an abusive asshole older brother who believed foolishly that shit rolls downhill. So if he got beat by mom or dad, it was ok to beat the snot outta me to relieve his resentment. It didn’t matter to him that I was being beaten more often than him. My parents had their Presbyterian religious beliefs; and the hypocrisy was complete.

Needless to say this left the young me with a yearning for spiritual fulfillment that kind of defied logic, how could I long for something that was being used so incredibly callously against me? Logically it didn’t make sense, but neither did what I really saw. As a young child 8,9,10, I sought solace, hope, safety in my children’s bible, and I saw holes in it. Remember when you were 10, you wanted to play, wanted to be on your bike, a catcher’s mitt in your hand, but you also knew stuff, stuff that might have only made sense to you but you knew it as a hard truth. That’s where I was, and it was about Moses and the burning bush really being a UFO. Yup really. My Sunday school teacher, called me a heretic, and got me in a lot of trouble with mom and dad which resulted in a beating of extraordinary violence. To put that in some kind of context, my father, whose addiction was spinning out of control, thought finding Jesus would help. Sadly, instead, it led to the biggest mistake of his life.

December 09/19

At those young ages the “family” attended a church called Bendale Bible Chapel at Bellamy/Lawrence in Scarborough, then a suburb of Toronto. There my father fell in with a fella whose name I remember as Capon. A decent man and I believe a Freemason as well. (These are a child’s recollections) and this gentleman began grooming my father to join the craft. Unsurprisingly the relationship came crashing down as my father’s addiction took precedence over good sense. So my father didn’t become a Freemason, and he didn’t listen to the well-considered advice/criticism of that good man, and what followed six years later was a Greek tragedy of epic proportions. This then, was my introduction to the Holy Grail, complete and utter chaos. A family in chaos, I was also victimized by extreme bullying at school, both at North Bendale P.S and at J.S. Woodsworth Jr High, some of which my brother was responsible for. The isolation and loneliness was, at times, almost impossible to get through. But somehow I toughed it out, and this set my ego up for a monumental journey that would take forty plus years to understand.

After the non-event of my father not becoming a Freemason, his addiction ran completely out of control. His “partying” kept the house awake until two or three every night, seven nights a week, as he went through a plethora of “friends”; mostly older kids from the immediate neighborhood, guys in their late teens to early thirties. This needless to say, meant that us kids were trying to function at school on less than four of sleep a night, which of course meant that we were perpetually exhausted. As time passed the pressure grew apace with it. From my father losing $75,000 playing the commodities market to familial sexual incest, there really was no place that was safe and that’s what home is supposed to be, right? Safe?  I’m eternally grateful to the universe and whatever intelligence that lies within the Kundalini that I didn’t suffer incest.  

That being said, sixteen years of abuse, my mother and father’s suicide, what did all of that do to me? Nothing good that was for sure. The only place or way that I found safety was internally. I learned to internalize everything. I had learned to be emotionless, the iceman. Nothing done or said to me could penetrate the internal shields that I had erected. The problem with this was that neither could anything I felt get out. My emotional needs had been denied for as long as I could remember, three months before my mother’s suicide she told me that my opinion didn’t matter and that she didn’t want me, so as I had grown up, I had never learned to appreciate or verbalize my own needs. This inability was death to me for the next fifteen years.

January 5, 2020

From about the age of 10, the idea of the Holy Grail had been implanted in my head because of dad’s association with Capon. The problem was, I had no real idea of what it really entailed. I had some vague understanding that Jesus had married and had kids, that those kids had formed the roots of European royalty. That resonated as truth but what of it really? I found myself really wishing that I had paid a lot more attention to the 2 men’s discussions. In the event, I found myself floundering along for the next decade or so, I had in some desperation, joined a church youth group weirdly expecting to find my own Capon, what I found instead, was a group of good kids who believed sincerely in the standardized Christian God. To some extent I felt that I had gone nuts, as I talked about Christianity and god and the hypocrisy of people’s beliefs and their actions, I couldn’t hear anything about the Grail, was I wrong about it all? No I really didn’t think so, the standard version of Christianity didn’t resonate as truth, whereas the precious little that I knew of the Grail felt right.

Meanwhile I had basically dropped out of school, had completely fucked up my relationship with who would eventually become my daughter’s (we really need a paternity test because she’s likely not mine, and whoever  her real father is owes me $115,000 in child support) nanny.  I had been an incredible fool and had gotten mixed up with Toronto’s biggest whore. This individual has no morals or ethics, I would eventually  learn that she facilitated the rape of a 14-year-old girl by an adult male. It was this action as well as a host of other despicable acts, which caused me to divorce this individual of whom uses sex,  mental, emotional, and spiritual violence to provide herself with an identity. Frighteningly she works as a public nurse in Toronto, I honestly feel sorry for her clients, I’ve since never known anyone as lost as she is. But this is where I was, 16 years of abuse, a mother who confirms your worst fears by telling you that you’re not wanted, by committing suicide on my birthday, dad’s suicide 11 months later, I was as lost and as vulnerable as they come, too easy prey for the predator that she is. And there is of course the whole concept of  your parents provide you with your love map, accordingly I married my mother, someone who treated me horribly, whose ethics were extremely questionable, and whose sexuality was warped, hence the incest. It was a most uncomfortable truth as I began my recovery following my divorce.

As banged up emotionally as I was, I considered myself to be an emotional vegetable; I understood that I was worth something, it was the nanny who gave me that, someone who loved me when I couldn’t begin to love myself.  It had been my intension to marry the nanny after my divorce, I had believed it was her intent as well, however, due to the machinations of the whore I was married to, and the animal actions of one of her many 1of 39 sexual partners that year alone, it would be a long nightmarish 26 years before the nanny and I could reunite.

The year after my separation from the whore was notable for only two things. One, I didn’t have any STIs and two, the nanny betrayed me. The 2nd year too was notable, if only for the nanny marrying a jackass who’d spend the next 26 years abusing the hell out of her. That year something good happened though, a tiny little green shoot poked its head out of the sands of the apocalyptic wasteland of my soul. The realization that I had to change.

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