Two Weeks —Wake up, you’ve been tricked! But, there’s more . . . 

As I walked into the Post Office last week, a woman, bound in front of me—sliding up to the middle-island counter next to the still present and very LARGE “stand here”circles adhered on the floor. She gave me a glare, and then carefully side-stepped over towards the right, where the cards and packing supplies were displayed for sale. I looked straight at her—one half of me sad that she lived her life in such fear. The other half, spoke calmly, “You should turn off the news, and not believe their propaganda and lies.” She spoke back, but I had not a clue what she was saying, muffled behind the mask and distance.

I still browse through Facebook on occasion, and noticed a post from a old high school classmate today. She had posted pictures of her five family members at the celebration of her Mother’s birthday, all dutifully masked-up. My reaction again, was how sad. Have we been pushed this far into the world of fear? Certainly, this fear has been caused by the destructive lies repeated over and over, which has been kept alive now for months—in fact, years. The continually changing story is that this invisible enemy and perceived danger exists everywhere, stalking us.  Even within family celebrations and close gatherings none can escape the belief that something is dangerous. Fear removes love, and we can’t exist in both worlds at once. One or the other, the choice is yours. Where do you stand?

I still see drivers, alone in their cars, wearing their masks. You can’t get on the city bus without one or apparently a plane either.  And I often see people walking their dogs outside masked-up too. Although, thankfully, not as many. Nine states, at last count, still required these mind-control devices indoors. And, last summer, Washington State, once again, begin the re-implementation of that ridiculous coercive mind control policy. Time to head back to the red states, I announced to Linda, my father’s widow. I’m not playing the game! You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile, you Borg drones. Was that the real plan?

What is mind control? What is brainwashing? How is it that we have become so transfixed—or mesmerized on the invisible enemy named ¢-19? I pulled a few articles off the internet and did some research. They resonated with me. One psychiatrist in California has even written and published about the mass psychosis among so many. His book is titled, “United States of Fear”. Psychiatrist Mark McDonald diagnoses the U.S. as suffering from mass delusional psychosis, driven by an irrational fear of what is now a rather innocuous virus.

Dr. Mattias Desmet, another brilliant mind from the University of Ghent in Belgium, a psychologist and a statistician has found this in his observation.  Desmet defines this mental collapse within so many: “The conditions to set up mass formation psychosis include lack of social connectedness and sense making as well as large amounts of latent anxiety and passive aggression.” Dr. Robert Malone sums it up this way “billions of people are affected by this, and they don’t even know it!” Sound familiar? Maybe not.

There’s a subtle and very important difference, according to Steve Hassan, between brainwashing and mind control. He makes the distinction between “mental” control and brainwashing.  He writes that in brainwashing, the victim knows the aggressor is an enemy. He cites prisoners of war as an example. Mind control contains many different or subtle parts that operate unbeknownst to the trusting party along a continuum of persuasion and influence. He argues that “at one end we have ethical and respectful influences which respect the individual and his or her rights. At the other end we have destructive influences which strip the person of their identity, independence and ability to think critically or logically.” 

We are all familiar with the cult and destructive demise of the Jim Jones followers November 18, 1978. Are Fauci, Gates, the FDA, the WHO and Pfizer any different? Do you see how have they used their professional and supposed trusted position within society to harm so many? These never-ending messages far and wide 24/7 promoting this fear, have impacted not only individuals, but are purposely intended to divide society, by encouraging people to pass negative judgments and discrimination for those who don’t get the test, shot or comply with their newly reset “social norms” which compromise critical thinking and never question this deadly experiment on humanity. In fact, even more astounding, a recent article on Dr. Joseph Mercola’s site, described how Yale University sponsored a study in which researchers tested different messages of how best to persuade people to take the Jab. It was Officially titled, “Persuasive Messages for ¢-19 Vaccine Uptake.” How’s that for premeditated forced, subliminal and mandated compliance? Or should we just call it like it is: Mind-

control! 

So how do we awaken from this mind-controlled hypnotic state? These are several suggestions offered by Mark McDonald, MD. None are pretty. He suggests a grassroots surge—arising from the ashes against this evil must happen. He acknowledges the prerequisite may be significant personal loss for “those that are helping support this mind control before they wake up and pull their support from it.” McDonald continues, “Based on what I’ve seen and heard, I suspect even personal losses won’t wake some of them up. I’ve seen cases where a loved one has died within minutes or hours of their COVID shot, and if they’ve lived through it, the person brushes it off as coincidence and schedules their booster. They simply refuse to see the correlation.  . . . This tendency toward blind self-destructiveness is part and parcel of a psychiatric condition known as “mass formation psychosis,” which is the clinical diagnosis proposed by Dr. Mattias Desmet.” Even after the restrictions are lifted, how long before fear dissipates, and sanity returns? No one can make that prediction.

I will offer additional perspective and a ray of hope that these brilliant minds have left out of the equation of linearity. Yes. It will take the continued awakening of many to shift where we are. But the Light and Dark balance has changed. And each soul has their purpose in our grand climb to an ascension-status planet. However, we have help. In 2012, Light❋ became more powerful than the dark. But darkness felt this shift after eons and have pulled no stops to regain their control. They are losing. Yet I see glimpses of light and awakening every day, and this gives me hope. I know when I arrived, this was the potential. So was the total destruction of the Earth. We have moved past that. But we as old souls are here on purpose, now.

If you haven’t heard about Nulls and Nodes, you must know, all 12 pairs have been activated. They are a “quantum” engine of sorts, my words, “a direct link with multi-dimensional information in real time”. They were placed here by our seed parents 200,000 years ago, should we make it to a place of higher consciousness. We have. They are part of the system. So are we. Many brilliant minds have written about the Divine Intelligence. Let’s place these under that category. 

Rather than repeat Monika Muranyi’s Words, I will quote her: “Nodes and nulls work in tandem, not as a single unit, operating as a polarized pair. The mechanics of the polarized pairs of nodes and nulls are a “push-pull” energy of The Crystalline Grid. What does that mean? Think of nodes like a vacuum cleaner. Nodes are slowly taking away the things that are no longer needed by humanity, such as fear, war and drama. Think of nulls as a depository of Pleiadian energy where new information such as ideas and invention are slowly being pushed to humanity. That is the push pull energy of the nodes and nulls.”

How’s that for cosmic Divine help! So, help the Light help us. We carry this Light source within ourselves—put your pure intention out—standing in your magnificence not in fear.  Send Light to all the darkness wherever it hides. It takes us all working together. We’ve got the strength, fortitude, divine wisdom and intelligence driving us toward more and more light every day. There is much in place to help. But it takes our openness, our awareness and our pure intent to make it so. The Love we carry will help the souls who haven’t been able to see what’s really going on. We are the way-showers of the future and we will march on!

Light: Kryon Book III, Alchemy of The Human Spirit

 “. . . The light is the source of all life and creation in the Universe. It is physics and spirituality all at the same time, for it represents the basic attributes of love. There is no accident that the light allows you to see, for the principles are science, and the attributes are Spirit.

The light is your enlightenment and your acknowledgement of a spiritual being walking the planet in biology, firmly connected to the light of the great central source. It is metaphorically a release from the dark, which is fear itself. An enlightened human is therefore a worker of the light, and represents a consciousness of planetary vibration intensification . . . the goal of all enlightened humans.

The light is present in your biology at the smallest level, and is the engine of your rejuvenation itself. If you were a traveler within your darkest areas of your inner cellular workings, you would actually see the light emanating from some of the yet undiscovered parts! The light, therefore, is not only responsible for creating your life, but for sustaining it as well.”. . . . p. 188 

About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Shaman, Certified Holistic Health Counselor, and intuitive in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease through a process called biological decoding. She writes about relationships, spirituality, and loss and help others through theirs.  Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling and is a Shamanic practitioner.  She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside.

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

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Decoding Our Lives Podcast – coming soon

Battle Cruiser

I met the truck only the afternoon before.  My friend Brad had named it the Battle Cruiser with the plate to match: BTLCRSR.  I must admit, it was certainly not a pretty sight. The yellow paint faded—exposed rust in certain places and green moss covering parts of the exterior and hood. It’s four and a half decades were evident; it was a work horse.

After some coaxing, the loyal truck came to life.  I was happy to see the life return as the deep throaty motor sounded like a tired warrior awakening as daybreak arose too early: Brad pumped the gas pedal and cajoled the old Ford pickup into being.

I had a mission—and needed the Battle Cruiser’s help.  The instructions from Brad were simply that first gear was not necessary—to low a gear to start. “Use second” he said. Easy enough I thought and nodded, as I climbed in the next morning and sat in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.  After decades of smaller and smaller cars—and trucks—this old relic was immense.  As tall as I am—and as long a reach as I have—I could not, even leaning over and stretching, open and unlock the passenger door from the inside.   Were the vehicles really this big???  Wow.

And, so it was, I shifted the truck into gear, lifted the clutch and headed up the wooded driveway finding my way to the 101 and to the Kingston-Edmonds ferry off the Olympic Peninsula and toward Bellevue; my childhood home. I thought about my mission to save the trash burner—a request out of my Mother’s house—before it’s fate met the awaiting bulldozer; demolishing it to the ground.  Another era gone.  As I pulled out of the driveway and on to the Sequim neighborhood graveled road, I felt my Father sitting in the passenger’s seat.  Perhaps, he felt my bit of nervousness, apprehension, or trepidation with the old truck?  At any rate, I felt the reassurance as the memories of familiar childhood adventures surfaced.  This time however, I was driving—and he was riding.  I continued my drive south 42 miles to the Washington State Ferry terminal; my mind concentrating on the road as I roared along feeling like something out of Mad-Max Road Fury.

I thought about the laughter that ensued when I voiced my request for the trash burner; I had my reasons and I didn’t really care what anyone thought.  I pulled up to the toll booth to purchase my round-trip fare.   “Lane six”, said the woman in the toll booth as she handed me my change and receipt.  I smiled and thanked her, easing the truck back into gear and driving forward into my designated parking lane to await the Ferry’s arrival into Kingston terminal. Settled, I hopped out of the Battle Cruiser and headed up to grab a cup of coffee—standing in line—I heard someone shout—“Here comes the ferry.”  I abandoned the line and headed back to where the truck was parked.  The adventure had been so smooth thus far and all was going as planned.  Or so I thought.

Lane five moved beside me and I turned the key in the ignition to start the engine.  Nothing. I turned the key off and on once again.  Nothing. I pumped the gas pedal and tried several more times to start the engine . . . nothing.  Not even a peep from the mechanical beast from which I sat behind the steering wheel slightly panicked and watching the other vehicles and passengers drive past me and onto the loading dock—and onto the green and white vessel that crosses Puget Sound so regularly.

“Are you in trouble?” the WSF* system employee shouted, I nodded—“yes, I think I am,” I answered back.

“I’ll get someone to help you.” And, I climbed out of the Battle Cruiser wondering, what just happened?

Within minutes, another, employee named Sarah had wheeled over a portable battery charger to jump the truck.  She stopped—and pointed to the winch on the front bumper.  I turned my head and stared, “Oh, sh-t,” there was smoke coming from the winch. Whirling back towards the terminal—she said—“I’ll be right back—stand back.” I looked at the winch with disbelief, and within moments she was back with a large fire extinguisher ready to douse any flame should it appear and this situation become worse.   With the 11:55 am ferry loaded—I watched my ride sail away—wondering how long I would be sitting on the Kingston dock—somewhat helpless and wondering what was next?

Before I realized, there was more than five WSF employees who appeared from almost nowhere—pitching in to work on the truck. Now, I will tell you, that I feel I have many talents—but auto mechanic—is NOT one.  I was raised helping my Dad with horses, not automobiles and besides having the oil changed, stopping for gas or running the car through the car wash—my desire ended there.  So, the fact that this help had arrived with a positive attitude and generous giving spirit brought me tremendous gratitude to my uncertain circumstances. I explained, that I had just met the truck the previous afternoon . . . it was on loan from a friend.

And, so with an obvious quick assessment of a trauma medic, it was agreed that the winch wires needed to be cut; disconnect the source of the problem! In agreement and with a plan, we began, focused on the task at hand.  I choose to look under the front seat for something that might be able to help cut the wires to the bilious dying winch—and happily came up with a small pair of wire cutters.  Phoning Brad, I explained the dilemma and what had happened.   He offered to come save me—but I told him I thought I was in good hands; I would certainly let him know if I needed his help.

As I turned around to offer the red-handled tool to my new “pit crew” a man two rows over held a crescent wrench, another pair of cutters and gloves.  He began to disconnect the battery.  I turned back around and another lady asked for water.  I handed her mine—and she worked with precision filling the dehydrated battery cells.  I glanced over and noticed that another gentleman was leaning over the front fender and working in hyper speed skillfully cleaning contacts and then rerouting the wires that connected the solenoid, to the battery and to the ailing winch.  (Which apparently was the reason the truck wasn’t starting when jumped.)  This man, wearing a bright orange T-shirt with motorcycle designs, white hair and beard, and half smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth worked with such expertise we all sort of stepped back; everyone seemed to sense his mastery.  Before long, the “bull” arrived and another attempt at starting the disabled Battle Cruiser began.  We—the truck and I— had definitely developed a bond since I had first climbed aboard hours before.  This time when I turned the ignition—the resuscitation of the Battle Cruiser was successful and it issued it’s healthy roar.  I literally welled up as the “pit crew” and other waiting passengers in line clapped and cheered at our triumphal achievement.  I stepped out with a big smile and thanked everyone. The battery cable clips came off and the hood came down—just as the next ferry was pulling into the dock.  The lady in the car next to me handed me a wet wipe—she said, “they’re really for make-up but I think they will work great for the grease on your hands.”  I hadn’t even noticed.  Another woman came up to me—and said, “If they load and you aren’t signaled—please go ahead to me.” I thanked her too.   This was a reminder of humanity at its best.

I waved and honked in gratitude as “Sarah” waved me on . . . I was the first one on the ferry for that crossing and I felt very honored.

I reflected back on all the chaos in Washington D.C—the hatred and vitriol spewed by so many these days. There was certainly no fence sitting anymore; all was being revealed.  You could not be someone you weren’t.  I believe deeply we are all the same; okay—we may look a bit different—but we are all pieces of the divine.  I believed humanity was proving it’s chance for goodness and light; in fact we seemed to be at war with the darkness: greed and lack of integrity and hatefulness.

The event on the Kingston Dock certainly cemented my belief in humanity’s goodness—something I wished the evening news focused on more—not the inherent fear, fear and fear they sold to their vulnerable audiences daily. It is our power of intent—our desire of compassion—and our tolerances and acceptances of our differences which make us strong.  Our common goal must be one of LOVE—which if you haven’t heard, is the most powerful force in the Universe.  LOVE changes physical things and it will change our world too.  The time is now—and we are the Ones! The powerful  difference we each make based on our choices every day changes our world. And, that’s the world I choose to see and live in.

The rest of the trip was seamless and the trash burner is safely stored in Sequim—waiting for its return to service.  I on the other hand—look forward to the next adventure—whenever and however it presents itself. Namasté.

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Cathrine Silver is a Board Certified holistic counselor with a practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, FL. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside available at Amazon.com. She can be contacted via email at cathysilverhealth@gmail.com. For more information visit www.CathrineSilver.com.

As a post note:  I learned that the man in the orange T-shirt name was Richard.  He was a master mechanic and forensic scientist from the Tri-Cities who had been visiting his wife whose daughter was due to have surgery.  I had gone upstairs on the ferry to use the restroom and have a snack.  I purchased clam chowder and a water—and upon walking up to the cashier—made a last minute decision to add a beer.  LOL—it had been quite a morning.  I sat down—and Richard walked by.  I called his name, and asked him if he drank beer.  He replied—“On occasion.” 

“Can I buy you a beer”, I enquired? He nodded.  I got up and went back to the cashier and returned to the cafeteria where Richard sat.  “It’s the least I can do.”  “Thank you for everything” I said—“I have a feeling—I would still be sitting on the dock without you stopping by.”  He said, “I saw the hood of the truck raised.  I travel with my tools.” 

 I will always be grateful for all who gave me help that day.  On some level, we are always watched over—and he was one of my Earth Angels that day.  I was glad I could offer the simple gesture of thanks. 

*Washington State Ferry

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