This story was sent to us by a reader as an alternative to the anger and hate we may often feel during all this madness.
The Stop and Sob Initiative proposes that, wherever each of us is, at midday, any day, through the Summer of 2021 (by the Western Calendar) – whether busy bringing London to a halt, protesting elsewhere, relaxing at home, or walking in the forest – we stop; and make space for our sorrow… Because right now, how, in our deepest hearts – as the Plandemia scams the world; eerily, socio pathically – how – could we not be sobbing?
“Yes, yes” someone says, impatiently, “but of what use could such sobbing be? This is a time for resistance!” Let me tell you how The Stop and Sob Summer Initiative began… It was inspired by a gathering in our local community that began with utter rage…
“If I could strangle the seven necks of that seven-headed G7 Hydra, I would!” said Barny, the usually-soft-spoken Professor of Ornithology, who lives in a tree house at the edge of the community. “Better a few Eugenicists die, than half the Human Race!” he added – with the mercilessness of a cat.
“If they come near my baby with their needles, I’ll f*g murder them” said Nozomi, quite viciously – though it looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth – and not just because she was vegan; but because, usually, she was all sweetness and light.
That was the general mood of things. The community was raging. And we had no intention of minimising, or repressing our rage. We felt fully justified in our rage. In fact, we felt it was impossible to rage enough! We were unified. We were. And yet – then something happened…
Nazomi was whispering to her baby. “I’d f*g murder them, wouldn’t I, my darling! I’d f*g murder them if they came near – you…” And as she whispered thus – much as one would murmur sweet-nothings – stroking her baby’s cheeks, and looking into its little eyes… Something went ´clack!´ in her heart, and she actually felt the possibility of The Unvaccinated being-seen as modern lepers; and ostracised – and her baby being confiscated; and injected; and – Nazomi let rip the most gut-wrenching scream of despair! It cut through our rage like a razor! It ripped through the atmosphere; and through the great tear it tore – first came Nazomi´s desperate sobbing, then Barny’s, then mine… until we were all sobbing. And it felt as authentic, if not more-so, than our rage…
As we sobbed, sometimes someone would speak, and name the atrocity that was breaking their heart. Thus, again and again, our sobbing washed the shores of our pain, in waves. Jen, who is ten, and usually oh-so-shy, somehow felt no shame amidst this outpouring of grief; and beat the community drum with uncharacteristic boldness. And as he drummed, steadily; we sobbed. And so did Jen.
Well, as George Harrison, the Buddha, and others, have often noted: all things must pass. And slowly, our sobbing approached the arms of silence… Silence, like a loving mother, seemed to take our sobbing in her arms, and hold us, and whisper oh-so-gently “My darlings, existence is a mystery, of which you are part… My darlings, you belong!”
And though we were comforted, the mind (as it does) objected, “and so-what? So-what if we belong?” And it seemed that the holding, loving, silent Mystery of Existence replied – to each in their own way: “Rage! You must rage! But you must sob too! Sob together! The sobbing will unite the softness of your hearts, and nothing is more powerful than softness!”
And we did feel powerful. And in our soft unity, there WAS a sense of belonging. It was true. It was strange. So we suggested an Evening of Sobbing to the community on the other side of the valley – and Jen went along to drum…
And yes – they had the same experience! The same experience! They, too, sobbed as one! Mario Muchacara, the gentleman who had kept his psychotherapy practice open until he was 105, and now co-ordinated their community allotments, made (I thought) an interesting observation… “Our rage tends-to-be outward facing; accusatory and full of plans – and rightly so!” he said. “Our grief tends-to-be inward facing. It has no answers; it has no plans. It is broken. And if-we-let-it, it can be the revelation of our pain – to others. If-we-let-it – it lets others in. And – it is precisely because it can let others in, that it can unite us so deeply!”
I told our neighbour, Brigadier Colonel Badger, about our enhanced unity – and he was impressed. “Wars can go on for a long time, my dear” he said, knowingly, pompously “for example, The Fifty-Year War went on for fifty years – more or less”. I agreed. Well, it was hard not to. “And wars aren’t all bombing and screams, you know! There can be long quiet stretches, when no one knows what’s going on. Nothing, therefore, my dear, is more important than morale!” I agreed again. And yet, for me, this went deeper than morale… For me (however it might be for others) – this was about the cry of the soul of the world.
That night, I meditated upon how the expression of our grief might bond and empower us – the big ´us´: We, The Unvaccinated, The Resistance, The Affirmation, The Awakening… I felt-so-deeply that it would help us to sob; and to sob together – and I came-up with this idea (or this idea came-up within me): that we could set our alarms, and stop en masse; and make space en masse – for the massive shadow of sorrow that haunts our one shared heart… And that we could do this, for five minutes a day, at midday, through the Summer of 2021… That way, I said to myself, if it did catch-on, our sorrow could swell, day-by-day, until, perhaps, it burst – through the whole damned slick, macabre, fascist-communist, bloodless, technocratic, genocidal circus. And you know what? It IS catching on!
Just yesterday, outside our local Town Hall, there was a lot of screaming, some shoving, and quite a bit of threatening; but, as yet, at that point – it hadn’t come to blows. The police were dressed-up, as usual, in Darth Vader riot costumes, and the protestors (anticipating this) had dressed-up as Imperial Stormtroopers of The Galactic Empire… This, they felt, would make-it-easy for passers-by to see who the goodies were…
There had been jostling, and arguing over the future of planet Earth (in the Milky Way Galaxy) all morning… Then the bells of the town hall clock struck twelve… The Stormtroopers took off their helmets; and gave space for their pain; and sobbed; and let themselves be-seen… The Darth Vaders took their fingers off the triggers of their tasers, and tear gas cannisters, and rubber bullet guns… Their thumbs twitched confusedly – they had never been challenged by tears before.
The Darth Vaders had been happy tossing insults back and forth, between the light and dark sides. They had felt they were defending something. They had felt this something was under attack. But now there was no attack… They shuffled about on the spot; they twiddled with their medals; they kept noting down the time – and they tried not to look into the Stormtroopers´ eyes. Yet, some force inside-them seemed to want-to-look. And some did! I saw it! I saw they saw the pain. And I saw them think, “this can’t be right! This can’t be what I signed-up for!”
Just how much will The Stop and Sob Summer Initiative catch-on? Who knows! Some of us are a little reticent. “I can’t just sob on demand!” a friend of mine complained. I said, “that’s OK, just sniffle!” Meanwhile – others are storming ahead with their sobbing. Just this morning, as I walked past the Honest Supermarket (where absolutely-everything is labelled ´toxic´, that is to say – honestly), not far from the town hall, in fact – I overheard a young lady say: “I’ve started doing it! I stop at midday, wherever I am! I breathe – and I let my heart open! It’s beautiful! It’s painful, but it’s beautiful! Especially when I meet a sobber I don’t know – and we both look into eyes we’ve never met; into the eyes, perhaps, of a new friend; hands on hearts: acknowledging we are grief-stricken – and letting ourselves be stuck…”
To what extent will we take up this proposal? Who know! As the new Great Fourth Industrial World Order Reset Revolution aims its syringes and implants and upgrades at our children, and electro-magnetises our cities, and puts even deserts and jungles on CCTV – how much of humanity is sobbing? How much is at least sniffling? And how much, like Nazomi – needs to let-rip the Howl of Soul of the World?
The Stop and Sob Summer 21 Initiative is a proposal to stop and make space for our sorrow for five minutes a day, at midday, every day, through the summer of 2021.
The author’s website: https://hanuhanu.org/