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Seeking Truth's avatar

The elites don't believe in God. They worship Satan

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Frances Leader's avatar

“I will not permit the evil senses to control the bodies of those who love me, nor will I allow evil emotions and evil thoughts to enter them. I become as a porter or doorkeeper, and shut out evil, protecting the wise from their own lower nature. But to the wicked, the envious and the covetous, I come not, for such cannot understand the mysteries of Mind; therefore, I am unwelcome. I leave them to the avenging demon that they are making in their own souls, for evil each day increases itself and torments man more sharply, and each evil deed adds to the evil deeds that are gone before until finally evil destroys itself. The punishment of desire is the agony of unfulfillment.”

In 2008 I was blessed beyond my wildest dreams. I had an idyllic home, off-grid on a white granite and black soil ribbon of foothills in the Sierra de Gredos, Spain. I shared my space with fruit trees, roses, grapevines, birds and an assortment of animal friends. I called the place Avalon. I had become Francheska de Avalon and taught English in my own private school in the nearby medieval village. I was loved in that community, even though I was a foreigner.

Spending most of my time tending my land, I meditated almost continuously. In the winters I spent a lot of time without human company and that led to some profound moments of realisation.

On one occasion I had walked to a nearby small natural forest where I had cleared all the dead wood and created a secret haven. I had uncovered a spring which developed into a stream bordered with an astonishing array of wild flowers.

Between the oldest trees was a giant, almost perfectly round, white granite rock and I climbed onto it knowing that it came from England 50,000 years ago, bowled and smoothed by an advancing glacier all the way to central Spain where the ice that carried it melted and deposited it, huge and immovable to be hidden in this fertile pocket of forest for me to stand on and gaze at the gorgeousness around me.

My meditation took me to the presence I now call the Big Universal Boss and I asked an impertinent question because I am known to it as a 'precocious child'.

I asked why BUB could not forgive the evil part of itself and reincorporate all of itself as one.

The forest fell silent. Not a pin drop could have been heard. It was as if time itself had stopped and I felt a surge of rage envelope me but I stood my ground and reiterated my question with defiance, knowing, as I do, that BUB loves me BECAUSE of my precociousness and not in spite of it.

I waited for my answer and it did not come. Eventually, confused, I slid down from the huge rock and went home to my finca in the gathering gloom of the late afternoon to build my customary fire and cook for myself and my dogs.

I was un-nerved by the sense of silence. Every meditation had produced clear concise answers until that day. This time I had no answer at all.

From then on, it was as if the helping and invisible hand in my life had disappeared. Spain suffered a horrible sudden economic crash and the village men lost their work contracts in the various cities. They returned to the village despondent and their families tightened their belts. Paying for extra-curricular activities like English classes quickly became an unaffordable luxury and my small evening school went from fifty students to five in less than one week.

I had no savings and no chance of alternative employment. I was not expecting to sell any fruit until the summer. My friends commented that I was getting too thin and my clothes hung on me, getting old, faded and ragged.

Suddenly the local estate agent came to visit and informed me that a wealthy Madrid family had asked him to let them know if I ever considered selling my green diamond on the foothills of Almanzor. They had spotted it during a recent holiday in the area and had fallen in love with the property.

I almost clutched my land to my soul, in horror! My dogs and I had worked ourselves to exhaustion restoring the place from a brambled chaos to a well watered haven. We had poured blood sweat and tears into creating our forever home..... or so we believed.

The estate agent asked me to think about it.

I was down to the last dregs of credit, bought by my bumper orange harvest. I had no money for fuel for my chainsaw and water pump. Then a series of phone calls revealed that all was not well back in England. My father complained of Rip-Off-Britain and prostate problems. My mother had died in a fire. My ex-husband suspected that he had cancer and my son was stabbed in a street fight in which he fought off three attackers.

"He has had a personality change, Fran!" grumbled my ex-husband when explaining what had happened to our son and I knew that my son's self esteem had taken a huge defeat if he had resorted to living with his father.

Everything seemed to be conspiring to force me to give up my little slice of heaven and return to the grey, cold and broken home I had escaped only five years before. I knew that there was something really important that I would have to learn next in my soul's journey and that 'something' would give me the answer to my unanswered question. I would find out, the hard way, why BUB could not accept evil back into itself......

You can read the rest of this story in my next post where this story has already begun but is, as yet, incomplete.

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