Slow down, you move too fast…

Welcome-to-Malvern quite.Malvern is a beautiful place. Drive or ride in from the east along Guarlford Road in the autumn and you will think you are passing through heaven. The hills are world-famous and there is even a view that this town is the centre of the universe. It is a place built on healing, water healing, which expanded the population from a hamlet to a small town in Victorian times. It is famous for JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, Edward Elgar and Roget (of Thesaurus fame) to name just four luminaries. And the rail transport links to all points of the compass are rather impressive.

It seems there was quite an influx of hippies/characters during the 60’s and 70’s. You might now get an inkling of where this post is leading. Shall we say that the Malvern “demographic” is in the evening of its life? There is a wonderful little cafe I go to every week (there are several wonderful little cafes in Malvern) and the owner is in his 30’s. Some weeks ago he told me, after I had been critical of a small mobile sample of the ageing hippies, “Ah yes, Malvern, this is a place where people come to die.”

I love the characters in this town. The truly appalling, toxic and destructive (popular) culture which is being imposed upon us passes them by. Life is devoid of characters, of true rebels, nonconformists and eccentrics. A few months ago a man who used to spend a few hours a day, smoking his pipe, sat on top of green telecom box in the town centre, passed to spirit. Every time I drove past him he put a smile on my face and given the tributes which still adorn the telecom box I am probably in a majority. (Lounge) Toad, a man of indeterminable age, with fabulous long hair and a wonderful singing act is still with us. Tony Neate, someone I could call a friend, also passed last year. Tony set up the London based School of Channelling and was involved with the School of Psychic Studies. As I have said elsewhere this man’s contribution to humanity has yet to be realised.

There are dozens of others. And there are many more upsides of beautiful Malvern than what follows. I have already hinted at the challenging side of Malvern residency in my Bill Bollocks post. Indulge me.

The journey from my house to Worcester involves over a mile travelling through a pleasant, but nondescript little place called Malvern Link. The speed limit is 30 miles per hour but if you can manage that you are breaking the law because 95% of drivers stay below 25 mph. And there is of course traffic volume.

After passing the tip, which on a Sunday I would suggest you don’t, there is a traffic island. Turn right and a quarter mile later turn right again and you are in the retail park. The same shops you will find in just about every other retail park in the country. Even in beautiful Malvern there is built environment standardisation.

Take the second exit from the island and the speed limit goes up to 40. Amazingly most Malvern drivers adhere to this. Just under a mile further on and the speed limit rises to 60. Now it gets interesting. Having driven down this road probably hundreds of times I would again use the 95% figure to suggest that is how many drivers struggle to go over 50 mph.

Who gives a F***?

If you accuse me of being an inverted Bill Bollocks then you are probably right. Why does this get to me? Because it is a prime example of unconscious, conforming behaviour. The car in front of me is doing 50 miles per hour, so I’ll do the same. The car in front speeds up slightly, or slows down slightly, so I’ll do the same. About a mile and a half further down the road is a set of traffic lights and a 40 miles per hour speed limit. In Malvern drivers tend to drive to a lower speed limit ahead of the road they are on. Everything seems in slow motion. Walk up or down the High Street and you will miss completely any hustle or bustle or vibe. Some might say there is a relaxed vibe. I would say that just as the drivers have their beady eyes on the forthcoming lower speed limit, many of them are subconsciously processing the design of their coffins.

If anyone can run with gallows humour right now it’s me.

Before I forget there is another interesting feature of this intriguing place. It’s called Qinetiq, a private “defence” contractor. Shall we restrict ourselves to saying the kind of things that had gone on here (still does?) had some rather interesting effects on some members of the workforce.

I wish to strongly avoid any kind of “Crap Towns” hit piece. I’d like to think, despite the majority of drivers not needing cars with indicators, mirrors and transparent windscreens/windows I have given you enough to at least make you want to visit here and possibly live here. Ironically as a motorcyclist-perhaps it’s six years of defensive car driving-I feel rather safe. But I stay vigilant.

There is a brilliant theatre complex here and for reasons I can’t explain Worcestershire is very strong on the performing arts. If you like live music, plays and other kinds of entertainment, come to Malvern. In fact quite a few of the restaurants have pre-theatre meals.

I’m closing with a rather sheepish demeanour. If I keep going on too much about Malvern drivers it won’t be long before the insurance companies get wind of it. Or it may just be me…

Uriah Stewart, October 10, 2019.

Bless you all, especially those of you behind the wheel.


ben elton ic

If you are stranded on an island and want to swim back to the mainland or even be ferried across, being hydrophobic is a slight impediment. Being critical of the technological hijack of culture, relationships and almost everything makes it very difficult to voice one’s fears other than through social media.

My late mother (The Qump, a term of endearment) never liked motorbikes. Despite the fact my father had one for decades, he never had an accident. It was he who kindled my passion for two wheels but she still could not come to terms with it. A hilarious episode once captured the issue when I revealed to her I had just bought a new motorbike. She turned to Anne and said:

Qump: “Don’t let him have one.”

Me: “I’ve just bought one.”

Qump: “Don’t let him have one, they’re dangerous.”

You may not believe it but no matter how many times I said that my new bike was in the garage, paid for, taxed and insured, she wouldn’t accept it or back down.

I am now the Qump.

Twitter? Don’t understand it, don’t use it. Facebook? Yes, I use it, but I’d rather not. However almost all of my friends live a (very) long way from me and it is an occasional useful tool to stay in touch. Instagram and all the rest of them? No.

I do love Skype. I have often found that healing and therapy over Skype is actually more powerful than face-to-face. The explanation for this I’ll leave to another time. Skype is brilliant. Australia, Norway, Greece, the Middle East, the USA.

Where would we be without email, computers, mobile phones and-pause for simulated vomiting-“smart” speakers? Answer? For the most part we would be back in the 60’s, a decade I remember with affection. It’s funny but (I have a very developed and powerful imagination) for the life of me there is nothing that anything from the above list and more could have enhanced my “lifestyle.” I didn’t have a lifestyle, I had a life.

When I “like” something on Facebook (a few times a week?) it is usually following a compliment, or an expression of compassion or something funny. Occasionally it is to endorse an element of truth activism. When I watch a video on YouTube of Darren Farley, David Icke, something interesting about the world on mainstream media (it does exist), George Carlin, Jonathan Pie, Eckhart Tolle, Gregg Braden, Bruce Lipton, Wayne Dyer, Tucker Carlson… I enjoy the video or I stop watching it. I’m rather proud of the fact that I have never, ever clicked on the thumbs down button on any video. The only time I give feedback for a product or service is when it is exceptional, or truly appalling (a couple of times) or the service provider is going out on a limb. For example a Vegan restaurant or a contributor to improving the lot of all sentient beings. Yet there is no mileage in falsifying feedback just because the provider is a social justice warrior.

And anyone who is able to switch on a computer and move the mouse around knows that visiting any web site gets the algorithms flowing. Almost instantaneously a visit to the next website will generate an advert for the product or service you may have just been perusing. As with the television, the most used button on my computer is the mute button. It’s only half the battle of course because images are powerful influencers of the subconscious. It should be obvious, but maybe it isn’t, if you have an intention to reject being brainwashed by advertisers then it tends to work.

It isn’t the first time I have declared that to be forced to watch 15 minutes of advertising with my eyes propped open would be the quickest way for me to book my passage to “Nosso Lar.”

Yes these are the rantings of a chronologically challenged old bastard. And yes every coffin-dodging generation has tended to rubbish change and has struggled to understand the world as it has become. But no one can deny we live in an age of exponential change, especially technologically, and the agenda of artificial intelligence hangs over us like the sword of Damocles.

My way of dealing with it? To emigrate. The Greeks are not technology averse but they don’t seem as passionate about it and there are massive swathes of Greece where I should be able to escape 6G.

Sorry to end on this note, but I did say earlier that I had become the Qump. For the last 18 months of my mother’s life she lived in a truly exceptional care home. Every week we went to visit her as we said our goodbyes she would declare: “I’m going home now.” “Home” as she referred to it had been sold. She ended up in the care home because she would have blown up the street trying to light her gas oven.

Sometimes there is no answer. Sometimes there is. Don’t we all have free will?

Thank you for putting up with this indulgence. I’m five chapters into Ben Elton’s Identity Crisis and I cannot put it down. #Bollocks, whatever that means.

Jack Stewart, September 10, 2019.


Cotswold biking


We are very fortunate here in Malvern to live on the fringes of one of the most beautiful parts of Britain, the Cotswolds. Like everything expressed here and on other blogger’s sites, it’s my opinion so not everyone would appreciate this area. Honey-coloured stone buildings, restrictions on (rampant) new house-building, trees, fields and green everywhere. Thatched cottages, country lanes, small villages, hardly any pylons, streams and village greens, quaint names, “arty” and individual shops, too many average cafes, several incredible places to eat/drink, sparkling energies, peace, the lack of noise except in over-touristed towns, green wellies, a surplus of Range Rovers, “up-market” charity shops, no noticeable graffiti, civility, charm and envy.

Any biker reading this will know it is impossible to capture the appeal of the motorcycle to anyone who hasn’t tried it. To get anywhere near a proper appreciation watch Henry Cole, a wonderful ambassador. Our car is a convertible (and ?), my motorbike is nearly 40 years old and despite having a 500 cc engine is not that fast. But I love it. Riding through the Cotswolds in summer, stopping at any number of idyllic destinations for a coffee, skipping past endless queues of cars at weekend, is a delight. It is difficult (see my last blog post) to be too distracted by mental chatter whilst riding otherwise a potential trip to somewhere more beautiful the Cotswolds beckons.

Being born and brought up on “the wrong side of the tracks” visiting places like Bourton-on-the-Water, Stow-on-the-Wold, Painswick and Minchinhampton as a young child would have been like going to another planet. A lot has happened since, and now my occasional visits are like therapy. Correction they are not “like” therapy, they are therapy.

In these crazy, insane days of self-identification, a deliberate political ploy to accelerate the millions of hand carts plunging headlong towards hell, there are many situations in which wearing motorbike boots and jacket are not advisable if you don’t want to be triggered. Yes my friends, not everyone likes a biker. Perhaps I was born a biker; my adoptive father was a biker so it makes sense. Just like vampires we are a persecuted minority. Hurt feelings whilst riding a bike can be very dangerous, this is no laughing matter. Changing your bike, which happens often for some strange reason to most bikers, going out in jeans (the non-Kevlar-lined variety) and a T-shirt or having your hair cut and beard trimmed (I can’t grow one so can I self-identify as yet another persecuted minority?) cannot remove the socially imposed stigma.

Riding around the Cotswolds, not the most PC area I can think of, can fill the biker with a sense of oppression, victimhood and suffer the indignity of having to remove one’s helmet at some petrol stations.

So when being my true, oppressed biker self, surely the zenith of earthly incarnation, I feel like shit. And it’s your fault. Do more than cut me some slack: back off and respect my feelings. I’m just human, like you. And come to think about it, if we get enough of you to back off I’m sure we can instigate some changes to this truly appalling, unreal world of the honey-coloured stone.

Stuff building new houses out of Cotswold stone. Breeze blocks and concrete are good enough for the rest of us. There are too many trees that get in the way of 5G. Cut the bleeding things down. And there are too many farting sheep and cows: round them up and process them, they are contributing to global warming. Let us cut a swathe through all these arty, “boutique” shops. Build a “smart” supermarket run by a skeleton staff. Bus in skip loads of disenfranchised teenagers. Graffiti never harmed anyone. In fact we could set up conclaves of oppressed groups, i.e. anyone, so they can all vie with each other to see who can be triggered most quickly and most frequently. Something else you can bet on other than the flies crawling up your window. Bet 24/7/365.

Yawn. I do exaggerate. But the Cotswolds are an anachronism. But for the political pushback of the rather affluent residents who live in this area, we could surely have HS 3 and another smart motorway?

The problem is I suppose, despite my bias, prejudice and genuine victim status I love the area. I am going to make a confession. I’m a regular attender of Cotswolds Anonymous. I might have been born a biker but I have grown up to appreciate beauty. And in appreciating beauty I couldn’t give a f***about anyone’s political sensitivity, not least that of George Soros.

Life is beautiful, blessings to you all.

Jack Stewart, August 18th 2019.

P.S. I had the idea for this blog post many weeks ago and no doubt because I have not expressed my thoughts they have become somewhat edgy. Enjoy!

P.P.S. Did anyone notice amongst the furore of paedophile Epstein’s demise, the US Attorney General, William Barr’s contribution to the intrigue? Epstein-Barr is a virulent, massively common, health-destroying virus…Thank you Victor.


It’s quite some time since I needed my dopamine hit from likes and followers, and yet I’m full of gratitude (yes, it still works for me) for those who do acknowledge my efforts. And my apologies for not appreciating enough of yours. Seasoned bloggers, of which I’m not one, will know the best time to post, so I may be missing out. However, in line with the intentional culling from search engines of non-mainstream information,   I have some idea of what is popular and what isn’t. Edgy, critical, sarky stuff doesn’t cut it. But I’m human after all. (this defence is wearing a little thin-a message from the shadow side of  your higher self).

US Democratic presidential hopeful and anti-war (“isolationist” isn’t language wonderful?) candidate (censored, blocked, criticised and vilified) Tulsi Gabbard has a similar view to myself. Anyone who mentions American (or British) “values” is usually a signal for me to head for the hills, but give me free speech, civil liberties and privacy every time.

Is it me, or was it me?

artemis delphi

“Fatigue makes cowards of us all”

Every single person on the planet has his or her worldview, formed by their socialisation, their cellular memory, their past lives, influences from other dimensions and their future aspirations.

Socialisation, the process whereby an individual learns to adjust to a group (or society) and behave in a manner approved by the group (or society). According to most social scientists, socialisation essentially represents the whole process of learning throughout the life course and is a central influence on the behaviour, beliefs, and actions of adults as well as of children.

Pause for a mini-rant. I put the word socialisation into my search engine which is set at UK English. 10 entries came up. The first two and the next five were spelt with a ‘z’. The third and the last two, correctly. In the grand scheme of things this is probably an irrelevance but as an avid observer of patterns and social trends, take it from me, in a few years time almost all “English” words will be spelt as they are listed in the Merriam Webster dictionary.

Back to the story.

Yesterday I came across a scenario when I was very tired, rather emotional and seriously affected by seeing someone I love in distress. I formed the wrong conclusions about the scenario which upset me deeply. Fortunately I kept my feelings to myself but shared them later with a couple of confidants. Needless to say I got the wrong end of the stick. Having realised this today I set about beating myself up. *

Cue the usual ragbag of conflicting emotions, 3-D and spiritual perspectives and my default way of handling similar situations. Where do we begin?

Let’s start with “being yourself.” I have addressed this issue many times. If yourself is a closed minded, biased, asleep or half awake and reactive self then I would suggest “yourself” is in need of an overhaul. So if we assume yourself is the opposite of this and is approaching your true (Divine) self then go for it. However would you, as your true self, misread any situation?

A lesson. No doubt in my mind that this was another lesson learned. Will it prevent me from jumping to conclusions in the future? It should, but no guarantees.

Forgiveness. In the end, no one except myself had to be forgiven. So in forgiving myself, the self-flagellation period was reduced to a minimum. Interestingly during the self-abusing phase (I was travelling on a motorbike on the motorway at 70 miles an hour at the time) looking at the clock revealed time had slowed down completely. Once I had let this thing go I remember being several motorway junctions nearer my goal and time had flown. As various agencies are talking about banning hands-free phones, because they are a distraction, it would surely make sense when we are all micro-chipped, to ask our controllers to send a signal to the chip which deletes any kind of serious distraction that might cause a lowering of self-esteem. Even better if the chip has an algorithm which does this automatically. However instant deletion of uncomfortable thoughts which help us learn and evolve will rapidly create unthinking automatons. Have I discovered something?

Warts and all. We are all one. This is a variation on the theme of being yourself. We all have a view of those close to us and a reasonable idea of how those people will react. So if someone reacts in a time-honoured fashion, because we are all one, then by acting in this way are we not providing lessons for those around us? I like this one because so many times have I judged a person for something they have done, which if I’m truthful not only have I done but probably will do in future, and later realised this person is merely a mirror of myself.

Practising the power of now. Eckhart Tolle is a gift to humanity. This quiet, unassuming, fascinating spiritual genius (who brushes off any such praise) has helped me tremendously lately. I’ve been watching many of his videos. Yes Eckhart we do live our lives almost always through memory and anticipation. Guilty as charged, despite decades of personal development. Clearly living in the moment, another way of describing being our true selves, would again prevent grasping the shitty end of the stick.

There you have it. Be yourself (true self) and live the moment. An oxymoron. Don’t you love using words not everybody understands? But oxymoron is a good word especially in these times of paradox, double meanings and newspeak. Failing to do this, being human, then learn the lesson, forgive yourself and move on.


The Catholic Church’s confession process has always intrigued me. You can act in truly appalling ways, remind yourself you are an original sinner, remind yourself you need an intermediary to talk to God and then the intermediary lets you off the hook (on God’s behalf) in the confession booth. So you spend your life aspiring to be “closer to Jesus”, but bumbling along as a truly flawed individual (because God says you are), in some cases committing heinous crimes and collecting your get out of jail free card as often as you need it. Variations of this garbage appear in other religions and it is yet another form of brainwashing. Another way of describing the great unwashed. Useless eaters, original sinners, the deserving/undeserving poor. Take your pick.

Was that a tangent or what? It wasn’t of course but a particular reflection on “being human”. I wonder what would happen if the mainstream, collective view, promoted daily, repeatedly by those who form “public opinion” was that we are magnificent sparks of the divine. If so, being human would not be an excuse but an aspiration.

Many years ago I recall reading a book- can’t tell you which one because I’ve read this in many books- in which was a kind of checklist for the aspiring awakened, complete person. Being human, but I have avoided the confession booth like the plague, probably because I’m not a Catholic, I have consciously taken steps in this incarnation to become a better person. There are probably few dissenters but I refer them to the “we are all one” paragraph above. However this checklist triggered a sharp intake of breath and the unspoken “not in this lifetime mate” but its contents stayed with me.

I now find myself in a very challenging situation. It is as if the divine force or imperative is acting on me to accelerate the realisation of my true self. It is a painful, challenging and at times desperate journey. I would never have chosen it voluntarily. To paraphrase many spiritual sages, but this one is from Princess Diana is channelled by my late wife Anne, “God never gives you more than you can handle.”

If any of this makes sense, and I sincerely hope it does, put your energies into getting into a place beyond thoughts. Because one of the greatest lessons I have learned, ever, is that almost all of our problems are created by thought.

Be good to close with a controversial statement. If we are Gods, more than sparks of the Divine, do we need to be grateful for our true nature? I’m big on gratitude and am sincerely grateful for the blessings in my life but if we are at our core, perfect, then is gratitude a necessary state of mind? If we live in the moment and just be then we have no need to be grateful. Surely.

Enjoy the rest of your life. Blessings to you all.

Jack Stewart, August 17, 2019.

*  A short visit to spirit last night hinted at the real reason for this scenario, so the ground was prepared for me to wake up already…

P.S. If it helps, gratitude is a rewarding step up from the rampant ego. The path is long but rather beautiful.

Happy when it’s raining.

rain dance

“Jesus said to them: ‘Whosoever has ears, let him hear. There is light within a man of light, and he lights the whole world. If he does not shine, he is darkness.’”

This quote was taken from a Gospel you will not find in the Bible, that of Thomas (24). I’m not sure what relevance it has for what follows but I like it anyway.

I was in a very good place this morning.

Our external world is an out-picturing of our internal world. So by getting into a good frame of mind we kick-start a succession of good experiences. We open the door to “the zone” and “flow” moments. It works and I had this happen to me often. But of course not often enough to convince me. You can’t spend nearly 7 decades on this earth without being influenced by the prevailing wisdom, sorry brainwashing. We all know that the mainstream view is what goes on inside us is a mostly irrelevant, meaningless sideshow whilst the external world is what real, concrete and significant.

(I have to add a caveat here. The speed of change in the world is such that articulating the mainstream mantras is in itself becoming problematic. Planetary awakening is gathering pace and the “walking dead” of yesterday are becoming resurrected.)

Most of us would prefer to go through a day when good things happen. If we have someone close to us who is challenged, we have even more reason for doing so. I guarantee if you read this book, allow it to resonate, and put into practice what you have just learned it will change your life. I suppose like the inverse of the boy who cried Wolf, if I recommend too many books that change lives my credibility will collapse. The essence of the book is that for change to take place we must feel that change, feel the emotions of the state we want to bring about now. Otherwise we are communicating doubt and a state of lack. As the priceless author of this book, Neville Goddard wonderfully states from the outset:

“This book is concerned with the art of realising your desire… There is a treasure in it, a clearly defined road to the realisation of your dreams… Were it possible to carry conviction to another by means of reasoned arguments and detailed instances, this book would be many times its size… It is seldom possible however to do so by means of written statements or arguments since to the suspended judgement it always seems plausible to say that the author was dishonest or deluded and therefore his evidence was tainted. Consequently, I have purposely omitted all arguments and testimonials, and simply challenge the open minded reader to practice the law of consciousness as revealed in this book. Personal success will prove far more convincing than all the books that could be written on the subject.”

Love it.

Back to this morning. Within the space of 30 minutes I received a warm smile and hello from a stranger, found a parking space, pulled up just in time to receive a phone call and had just been given news that a significant relationship had drastically improved.


Then reflection. If it were that easy to programme our day, and we really got good at it, our lives, then surely everything, will be perfect, no more lessons to learn, heaven on earth. As someone who buys into the viewpoint that we are here to learn, we need banana skins to enable us to do so. You can have too many catastrophes though. Another challenge.

To facilitate my goal of mastery of controlling my thoughts and feelings I need support. Going to what I would consider a sacred place, the local cathedral, helps. Religion was inflicted upon me as a child and I don’t need an intermediary to ask Jesus if I’m sufficiently redeemed to enter the gates of heaven. However cathedrals are sacred spaces, and I doubt if those building them spent their lunch breaks trying to get the local population to become born-again Christians. There is sufficient divine energy in most cathedrals to lift the spirit. And so it is.

Just before I went into the cathedral I was listening to some CD’s (they still exist thank God) of American spiritual medium James Van Praagh. He was asked what was the greatest challenge in his life. He answered by saying that we are all unlimited, magnificent, exceptional beings who can throw off our restrictions, heal ourselves and heal the planet. The challenge? To convince people of this fact.

Well it all begins with me and you doesn’t it? Is it easier to convince others of this than fully believe it ourselves?

I’m going to park this blog post here, exhort you to buy Neville Goddard’s writings and await the next offering.


Jack Stewart, August 12, 2019.

P..S. Oh it seems I have omitted spelling out the point of this piece. In case you haven’t guessed it it’s much more difficult to be happy, to operate from the inside determines the outside when it’s raining. Unless you (believe) have Native American roots and can change the weather. I have witnessed the weather being changed. I have witnessed and created, frequently a few years ago, miracles. YOU CAN TOO.

P.P.S. Why the hell haven’t I heard of Neville Goddard until now? Divine timing eh.

Hope? Not on my watch!

Diana Symbol (2) clear

Life is a bitch and then you die. Seeing is believing. We are basically animals. God? You are having a laugh. Okay then you useless eaters where do we go from here?

So you are down on your luck, or you have a serious health problem or the world seems to be closing in on you. What animates you? Where does the life force come from? Red Bull? Amazon? The Government? The rebuttal of an anti-Semitic trope?

I have many friends, close friends, who are mediums. Vanessa and I don’t have many readings these days. I remember vividly my very first reading with a psychic (40 years ago) and she told me I was going to have a car crash. She was amazingly accurate in so many areas of my life, but I came away vowing there would be no car crash. There wasn’t.

It is a code of conduct that mediums don’t tell you if you or someone very close is going to die. If you really were sold on messages from spirit it would be a death sentence. A bit like going for a cancer diagnosis and being told you have six months to live. For the overwhelming majority it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. So lo and behold most messages from spirit are positive and encouraging. What kind of warped and twisted world do we live in that we expect the worst?

Do we have responsibility for our lives? So if we are given positive news from spirit do we just sit back and let it happen? Surely there is an obligation to do all we can to bring the positive scenario described by spirit about.

Recently I’ve lost track of the number of people I’ve spoken to and the authors I have read and re-read and they all tell me get your thoughts in order. Whatever you think you become. I’m almost sick of saying it, but like the biological robots who front up the news, repetition goes straight into the subconscious and that’s what programs our mobile phones. “It” being whatever it is you do believe in, have faith in. Doubt is the first second and third rung (if there is such a thing) of the ladder onto the handcart to hell. Thoughts, what we say, affect our DNA. Not for nothing was a book written called “Mind As Healer Mind As Slayer.”

Difficult? Of course it’s difficult. More than difficult. At times it feels impossible. There are public places I’ve walked through and felt despair, it’s as if there is a collective message from the hundreds of individual minds all saying the same thing. “We are f******.” So let us eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Unless you were coached by extraordinary parents or went to a school that taught you you were fireproof, chances are you don’t have a very high opinion of yourself and the world is a grim place. For many having just read that there will be howls of disagreement. You may be missing the point. I haven’t met many people who are consciously miserable, pessimistic, self-loathing sods. Nor would I, I would cross the road to the other side if I saw them coming. But, take it from me, when you scrape away the veneer most of us don’t like ourselves very much. And where does that come from?

Well it certainly doesn’t come from spirit, at least the “spirit” I have communicated with very rarely personally but mostly through mediums. And they get it “wrong?” Yes, we’ve covered the death angle and I hope we have also covered the dark bastards wanting to do us down on the “other side”. Pause for ironic laughter. There are dark forces and dark energies who haven’t our best interests at heart, especially if we are trying to return this world to paradise. Quite a few entities have far too much invested in this insane, upside-down world staying the way it is. But as the song says God fought the Devil and God won.

Very few people can live their whole lives on the “earth plane” and remain unconvinced that reality can only be discerned through our five senses. To go beyond the five senses, beyond the world of the BBC, CNN, the Catholic Church, organised religion, the education system and the billions who have been brainwashed is no easy task. Some, Joseph Speaks, have called the living entity that dominates the collective consciousness as “The Field”. The Field is powerful and pervasive but I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t gone beyond it.

Back to the personal.

So my beloveds if you get a message from spirit that flies in the face of-as you see it-current “reality” then just ask yourself how you deal with a message that told you to get your affairs in order. You don’t need a medium to get that kind of message. When you get a message of hope, do everything in your power to make it manifest. You have an army of supporters in spirit. I know there are exceptions to this, and please forgive me for not going there at the moment. And many of us have an army of supporters here on the earth plane.

Reaffirm your connection to God, to Source, to the Universe. Communicate with God in silence. Be grateful, as ridiculous as it sounds, when your world is falling apart. You are not grateful for your world falling apart, you are grateful for your life. And I think that any Supreme Being, possibly prompted by our friends in spirit, would notice if you were having a few problems.

Is faith blind? Ask Alexa.

One last piece of advice. The “Field” operates even while you are asleep. If you think the news and those behind it have your best interests at heart then the handcart beckons. So every day read, watch, listen to quality spiritual material. Change your thoughts, change your beliefs, change your life. And help create the critical mass of enlightened souls who will liberate this rather important corner of the universe.

Bless you all.

Jack Stewart, July 16, 2019.

I think I forgot to add that this incarnation could be one of thousands and this corner of the universe one of trillions. Enjoy the ride!

Uncomfortable bliss.


Many years ago I read about horrific experiments being performed on rabbits. Been injected with plutonium or uranium to see how toxic it was. The “scientists” no doubt expected the rabbits wouldn’t live more than a few days. But they did. It was discovered later that the lab technician who was “looking after” the animals took them out of their cages and stroked them every night. The love he gave them offset the effects of the lethal chemicals. Yes of course they all died in the end. Maybe they upped the dose or sacked the technician.

Also many years ago I was fortunate to have met a world-renowned Tai Chi master. To watch this man was an exercise in perfection. He was in his late 70’s, and looked about 20 years younger. What I didn’t expect of course is in between demonstrations he would go out of the side door and enjoy a crafty fag. I also remember reading accounts of Chinese men who had smoked all their lives living to well over a hundred. And if you watch this 10 minute video of Bruce Lipton-it is incredible-you will see how it is possible to counter the effects of strychnine poisoning.

In my last post I talked about the need, the requirement, to have faith and belief in what you are subjecting yourself to in relation to dis-ease. Of course if you are given a death sentence following a cancer diagnosis the opposite is true.

Those of us who have spent their whole lives swimming against the tide occasionally wonder what it is like to let go and let the current take us. Ah the bliss of the mainstream. Our wonderful Queen, our much maligned politicians, the integrity of the BBC, the need for wars, the forthcoming death of the planet, the proven effectiveness of mustard gas chemotherapy, original sin, a vengeful God, the quackery and deceit of naturopaths, homeopaths and chiropractors, and the sheer futility of challenging the status quo. Hallelujah!

Oh to reclaim the hours spent putting forward an alternative perspective. One grounded in research, in optimism, in hope. Oh to re-claim sitting in “polite company” in agreement with everyone who unthinkingly and religiously repeats what the mainstream has told them. To enter a “superstore” and not squirm when Muzak belts out from the in-house loudspeakers. To drive and switch on radio Gaga and refrain from comment when the accepted narrative is repeated yearly, monthly, daily and hourly.

I still crave for my chlorinated, “refined” sugar infused, aspartame and MSG riddled processed shit.

Oh dear the mask has slipped.

The supreme irony of it all. As above so below, as within without. What does one do having seen the world of “They Live”? Swap the dark glasses for spiritual pink ones or throw the dark glasses away and retreat into the abyss of comfortable numbness?

Were it so simple.

Bless them all, visualise paradise, forgive and connect to source. But never look the other way when the train is coming.

Discover, uncover, recover the truth. Keep your mind open and be humble enough to realise you know far less than you ever imagined. Dedicate yourself to a life of service, love yourself and keep seeking. Especially within.

Jack Stewart, June 28, 2019.

Adopting the right note.

spud famine

For some time the Holy Grail of genetic determinists has been the study of (identical) twins. You know how it goes. Everything the twins are and do can be explained by their genetics. No matter what kind of environment they have been brought up in, it all comes back to the genes. Nonsense of course, but now is not the time to shoot down yet another mainstream holy cow. What I find interesting is that the same level of research has never been applied to adoptees.

Perhaps I should be grateful because who knows I might have been roped into some ludicrous experiment. I have found it fascinating over the years when in the presence of medical (hardly ever) or insurance people asking me about “family history”.

“What did your father die of?”

“Emphysema, bronchitis. He smoked all his life.” Telling them this usually heads off questions about my health relating to breathing, and anything lung or chest related.

“And your mother?”

“Old age. She was 88, decided she’d had enough, died in her sleep and was ill once in her life from food poisoning.” The clever ones stop there. The slower ones, or the ones who run pre-installed mental algorithms go on to ask me what “medication” I’m on. “Nothing” usually closes the dialogue about genetic influences on my present state.

Adoption has been written about extensively elsewhere. I recall a couple of blog posts on the subject. Knowing you are adopted can polarise your worldview. It fluctuates between feeling all-powerful (I was meant to be here!) or likening oneself to space dust (I could have been aborted). If you subscribe to the view, as I do, that we were all meant to be here, then it tends to skew thoughts in a positive direction.

As above so below; the inner determines the outer; we all are sparks of the Divine. An acorn has within it all the information needed to grow into a 200 foot oak tree. The sperm and the egg combination which creates us is similarly endowed.

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour.”

William Blake

Yes folks, enough of us believe that within each of us lie the secrets of the universe. No, we haven’t found a way of unlocking them all. Yet. But aren’t we are off to hell in a hand cart.

Or maybe we can get off and climb the stairway to heaven.

I’m some way into a fabulous book about the Irish potato famine by Tim Pat Coogan. Can’t imagine many people would like reading about the utter devastation and catastrophic nature of this act of genocide. And if the thought about reading about the cruelty that stalks this planet keep away from Larnaca promenade if you visit Cyprus. For the truth activist, 10 lifetimes would not be enough to learn about 0.1% of the crimes committed by the powers-that-shouldn’t-be since the dawn of time.

Yeah, we know all that, they are a set of bastards but I’m down here to have a life and be happy, so off you go…

It could be argued that daily bulletins about the depravity of the planetary rulers is addictive. Without our “fix” we might lapse into toasting the Queen, join the queues to be micro-chipped, max out on chlorinated chicken McFoetus, roll over and die. Who knows?

Another quote I’m rather fond of is “the mind once stretched never returns to its original dimensions.” This has been attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Have you ever thought though, gorging on a mental diet of truth, or I’ll meet you halfway and call it “negativity”, can actually make you stronger? As the Godfather of truth activists, David Icke would have it, once you know “the agenda” you know what’s coming. And knowing what’s coming can be empowering. So when you read or discover that all around the world people are not rolling over and are actually waking up then the stairway seems in sharper focus.

The problem is, if it is a problem, that truth activism tends to be impersonal. It’s about “them”, scandals, outrages, “fake news”, conspiracies and plots. Yes you can talk to individuals about all this- if they have any inclination to doing something about the state of the world- but mostly it boils down to a shared knowing. When I was in the Labour Party the faction I was involved with was about “converting” other members to a particular way of thinking. I wouldn’t recommend it.

In the Utopia-don’t you love that word?-we are striving for, we would all be of service to each other, to all sentient beings and the planet. Being of service would not require a business plan, debt recovery, marketing genius or 5G. We would all be of service because we would realise that is what we are here for.

So how do we bring this about? Do we keep publicising the excesses of the psychopaths? Do we bury our heads in a bucket of “Signature Mixers”? Do we look the other way while the train is coming? Do we serve until we drop? Or do we infiltrate the dark side?

Does it not come back therefore to our own individual origins? Do we stagger through life taking on board life’s knocks, learn the lessons and cue up the next catastrophe, you know, the one we never anticipated. And what happens if we don’t learn the lessons, as someone famous once said,  are we destined to repeat them?

I’ll partially close with a wonderful concept, not originated, but elaborated perfectly by Tim Pat Coogan. Providence. The Irish potato famine was an act of God. The fanning of the flames and the starting of a 1000 more fires were also down to Him. So why bother to seek God out, chances are you will get covered in Brimstone trying to scale the pearly gates.

Bring me my bowl of eastern maize!
Bring me my handcart of desire!
Would’st Thou stick me with thy spear? O sky, unfold!
Premature death, O sing Heavenly choir!
(see postscript below)

That spark within me seems to glow ever brighter and the glow of everyone who is awake will soon be visible.

Jack Stewart, Friday, 07 June 2019.

A truly inspirational quote, poem or prose stands the test of time. The rest of it depends on enough pseuds to endorse it. My adulteration of an inspirational song (Jerusalem in case you haven’t guessed) is as crap as anyone else’s. In the potato famine the importation of Indian maize partly offset thousands of deaths. Tearing the roofs off Irish homes and evicting the tenants had as much to do with Providence as voting. Unless you are George W Bush,

I self-identify as consciousness.


Doesn’t it all wear you down? Around 20 years ago one of my clients was a man who had just had a sex change operation. S/he was going through the second phase of having drugs to reinforce the process. Her partner was a wonderful man, full of compassion and understanding.

She came to me suffering from pancreatic cancer, which for the uninitiated is one of the worst forms of cancer there is. There is no doubt in my mind that the social pressures and discrimination had been internalised by my client. That is not to deny of course a range of childhood traumas relating to being born in the wrong body. We made significant progress but after a few sessions lost touch and I have no idea what happened to her.

10 years before that I was responsible for drafting the recruitment policies to eliminate racism, homophobia and discrimination against disabled people in the hiring process in Manchester City Council’s housing department. I was exceptionally motivated and proud to do this. Any form of discrimination which has not been hijacked for a hidden agenda is anathema to me. As it is to this day.

Whilst I struggle with “self-identification” I can live with it. Just. After all in the 1970’s I was one of the first, probably the first, to openly dress like David Bowie in my hometown. How I got away with appearing as “Aladdin Sane” at a local rugby club fancy dress I will never know. I have always been proud of and have never hidden my feminine side. However many people have commented that I come over most times as an alpha male.

Without being able to question the motives of the thousands of people who “self-identify” as a different gender, it is something that will always remain a mystery. Another irony is my appearance as a woman at a friend’s fancy dress party in the 80’s and winning first prize.

Men, and it is usually men, having questionable motives to “self-identify” in order to “compete” in women’s sports mostly appal me. And I think we can safely park the perverts who “self-identify” as women in order to gain access to women and children. And perhaps it needs to be said again, as someone who lived through Section 28 of the 1988 Local Government Act. To causally link homosexuality and paedophilia is beyond condemnation.

I was born “on the wrong side of the tracks.” Maybe. Yes, white working class (is this a trope?) in a rather pleasant village south of Warrington in Cheshire. The terraced house I spent most of my childhood, teenage and some of my early 20’s in was pretty comfortable. I’ll pass on the parental stuff, save to say at both primary and grammar schools I experienced class prejudice. There were no black or even Asian people in my area and none at either school. The only cultures I experienced, apart from in petri dishes in biology, were working class and middle class.

Post university, my specialism was personal development. I had a dose of racism awareness training (RAT) in the 1980’s. Check it out. The positive aspects were hugely raised awareness of how black people have been treated historically by various “empires” around the globe. The downside was that it was designed to make the white audience feel guilt. Nearly 40 years on these themes are being played out today.

Unless I was a slave trader in any of my previous incarnations I have no single act to feel guilty about when it comes to racism. As I was 18 before I met my first black person and came from a semi-affluent background, to say I had no racist thoughts would be ridiculous. Racist teachers? Racist church leaders? Racist politicians? Racist reading material at school?

Minorities suffer oppression. Fact.

Do we have terms comparable to “anti-Semitic” to apply to the Armenians? The Irish? The Greeks? The Palestinians? Native American Indians? I watched two minutes of “Newsnight” on the BBC last night. The lead singer of Primal Scream, Bobby Gillespie-never seen or heard of him before, but was very impressed-was asked for his opinions on a number of subjects. He was asked if he recognised the state of Israel. Why? Silence was followed by the interviewer saying “not recognising the state of Israel may be seen as anti-Semitic.” Gillespie denied being anti-Semitic and went on to list some notable Jewish people he admired. Do I need to analyse or comment on this?

It could be said that being aware that one is in a minority and asserting the rights of that minority is a necessary part of life. Couldn’t agree more. Do we have some kind of international index, a numerical scale of suffering? What about the Libyans, the Iraqis, the Yemenis, the Afghans, the Rohingya Muslims for starters. Is it worse to have bombs dropped on you, sanctions which kill and starve large sections of the population, or the support of an extremely vocal regime which fuels closing down of any criticism of its actions? In case I am being too obscure I’m talking about Netanyahu and his Zionists who use anti-Semitism as a smokescreen for killing Palestinians and creating an apartheid state. Do your research.

If you don’t like the word genocide, how about Holocaust? Research the Armenian genocide and the Irish potato famine.

So are we defined and constrained by the country we are born and raised in, the history, culture and politics of that country or unspeakable bits of our bodies which define our gender?

No, I don’t suffer discrimination on a daily basis. Maybe weekly if I shop at Waitrose. Apologies for a pathetic joke which attempts to defuse discrimination by making light of it. Life is serious. Isn’t it?

Well, if we are awareness, consciousness, having an experience in a biological “spacesuit” then ultimately the colour, gender, background and physical attributes all become irrelevant.

One of the many reassuring trends in my lifetime is the ever-growing promotion of people who are born or become physically different. The Paralympics, having disabled people present all kinds of media programmes, the integration of disabled kids in mainstream schools-never happened when I was a kid- and all kinds of effort designed to make the mere thinking that disabled people are somehow inferior anathema are to be universally welcomed.

Nearly time to wrap this up. “Gender fluidity” is a mind-set, a movement, a paradigm which challenges the biological nature of humanity. Genetic determinism, i.e. who we are and how we behave is determined by our genes, along with Newtonian science is still peddled by the mainstream. The inroads made by an agenda-driven transgender movement is nothing short of incredible. I’ll resist the temptation of pulling apart the climate change scam. My friends all that remains to say is-you’ve guessed it-“Cui Bono”. The world in 2019 is awash with victims. I have mentioned many of them here.

As I was metamorphosing into a psychotherapist in the mid-1980’s I read quite a few books that challenged psychiatry and psychotherapy. The recent BBC programme featuring actor David Harewood was excellent. However what is that quote?

“It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”


Bang on Jiddu. Apparently psychosis (what David Harewood experienced as a young man) affects only 1% of the population and usually occurs before the age of 30. Some of the symptoms of psychosis include believing we are God, feeling invincible and hearing voices. Well we all have the Divine within us. As pure consciousness we are invincible and I’d rather hear certain voices (spirit, wise avatars, guides and angels) than those of advertisers, unhinged zealots and unconscious agenda-following sheeple. I could, as always, go on.

Having fought this “profoundly sick society” since childhood, having identified with oppressed peoples and groups everywhere I have realised for some time now that getting better deals for minorities are mere crumbs off the hidden masters’ table.

I’m sure you’ve heard this one.

A man is walking home along a riverbank. Then suddenly he hears a commotion and sees there is a person in the river unable to swim. As a strong swimmer he jumps in and rescues the person. It could be a woman walking along the riverbank. After helping the person out and arranging for his continuing recovery, the man continues his journey.

It isn’t long before he spots someone else in the river. He does his usual heroics and rescues the person. He’s becoming exhausted and somewhat confused. And yes, after a slightly longer interval a third person requires rescue. Before he leaves the third person he says to them “I’m going upstream to find out who is throwing people in the river in the first instance.”

We need to get rid of the system that wants to dispose of humanity. Self-identification is a smokescreen. We live in a time that artificial intelligence may make throwing people in the river redundant. Going beyond Aldous Huxley and loving our own servitude, the chips in our brains may bring about a situation which my late mother would find incredible.

When I was a young child I used to “wind up” my mother. Nothing really serious you understand, but I could appreciate she didn’t find it to her advantage. Threatening me with my father when he came home from work lost its deterrent value. We lived 100 yards from a deep, dark canal. My mother’s doomsday tactic was to storm off and disappear for at least an hour. I now can laugh about it and have left about it for a long, long time. But when I was a kid there was always the possibility that she would not return having threatened to “throw m’sell in”.

Perhaps we could all “throw ourselves in”?

Or perhaps not. Onwards and upwards.

Never give up.

Jack Stewart, May 18th 2019.

Things are happening today at hyperspeed. Here we go, perhaps we now ought to accommodate self-identifying as a murderer. And in case you are falling asleep, another glimpse of the agenda

Altered states and beyond satire


On Sunday a friend’s wife was singing in a choir at Tewkesbury Abbey. You don’t have to “get” organised religion to appreciate the beauty and magnificence of this building. My friend loved to hear his wife sing but he was no fan of the 90 minute service her choir was part of.


However what struck me, despite the Abbey only being about a fifth full was that for the message (from religion) to get across the key was for worshippers to get into an altered state. Certain hymns and songs that were sung resonated powerfully with the pair of us and it only reinforced the above point. So I reflected on this, is it not the case that just about every powerful influence on us requires an altered state?

If we watch a DVD, go to the cinema, listen to our favourite music or even a guided meditation each of these puts us in an altered state. Sex, drugs, alcohol and food do the same. These states may all be described, subjectively, as positive.

Conversely if we watch mainstream news or if we are interested in crime dramas (my wife and I are) the altered state may be one of fear, revulsion, disgust or in the case of most crime dramas, feeling good about the fact we are not crime victims. It could be argued curiosity is the primary motivation, or it could just be me copping out.

Brilliant spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle has made a career out of exhorting us all to live in the present moment. Be here now. Living in the moment is certainly a different state from looking at the past with regret in the future with anxiety but could you describe it as an altered state? I think so. Advertisers peddling the whole spectrum from things we don’t need or can’t afford to things that would generally enrich our lives want us in altered states. The word trance would once strike fear in those suspicious of hypnosis. But trance is another word for a focused, dare I say it, altered state.

So what kind of state would we have to be in to walk our racist dogs, salute Nazi personal trainers and welcome Isis fanatics “back home” as caring citizens? They couldn’t make it up.

Yes the term beyond satire was coined many years ago before lunatics took over the asylum.

Short blog post this time, I think my brain is closing down because of Jeremy Corbyn ceaselessly uttering anti-Semitic tropes.

I really do wonder how many people take all this bullshit seriously.

So if you would like to explore the possibility of tackling chronic illness or letting go of troubling behaviour watch my latest video. It’s on the right side of sanity and might actually do you some good.

Have a great day!

Jack Stewart, May 1st 2019.