When I was a young boy, I went to Sunday School every week. Later, I grew older and began attending regular church meetings and listening, not always quietly, to the sermons. I don’t remember the name of the church – it’s not important. But, I remember the hand of my grandfather, reaching over the pew, quietly, tightly clenching my shoulder until I settled down.
As I grew older, I sang in the church choir, listened to sermons, and read the bible. Gradually, doubts began to intrude. Something was wrong. The bible said X. The minister said Y. The minister said A, my cousin said B. A neighbor said C. Religion and morality was never black and white.
So I set out on a mission. At 12 years old, I decided to learn about other religions. I spent the summer of 1965, a few weeks at a time, a half-dozen churches in my community to see what each said about virtuous behavior, and about sin. At each church, when I looked and listened closely, the rules and the morals changed. Each had a strong belief in their God, but each demanded different behaviors from their flock. I remember entering the Salvation Army with enthusiasm for the music until I found that playing cards and dancing were forbidden. I entered the Catholic church, the largest by far, last. With the power, the pomp and ceremony came new rules. I was looking for common sense and logic. I couldn’t find it.
Over the course of that summer, I found my own God. I already understood the simple truths of Jesus, of doing good things, helping those in need, and doing unto others, the Golden Rule. I learned to hold my own beliefs, and up hold my own ideals – at least most of the time. I am human – without the need for a church. So I stopped going.
That fall, we moved to a new town, to a house next to an abandoned church. I played in the yard – but never had to attend. In school, I found science and logic but no moral guidance. I had to find myself. One of my strongest memories was the meaning I found in the story The Door, by E.B. White, about a man trying to find the truth – who finds new truths every time he steps through a new door to a new stage in his life.
I graduated from high school with honours, and as I began to prepare for university, my mom moved back to our original town. For a few weeks, I moved with her – before heading off to the big city. Some of my old friends were enrolling in grade 12, which started 3 weeks before my university classes. So I signed up. The principal and the teachers had no idea I was a graduate. I attended classes with my friends, some of whom were in on the joke. The science teacher shattered my faith in school and science by giving us a pre-test, and on seeing my responses predicted I would graduate with a mark no higher than 70 in physics and chemistry. I already had the highest marks in chemistry and mathematics at a larger school and second highest in physics – all under standardized province-wide testing. I didn’t argue with the science teacher, instead, I walked directly to the principal’s office to explain that I was off to the big city university.
I went to university to be an engineer. I hated it. I spent all my time in literature, art, and even economics classes for which I was not registered. I failed engineering while learning to love life and the arts. I never got a university degree, but not for lack of ability.
My grandfather died when I was quite young, but my grandmother had a long and healthy life. I remember her religion. The bible was always in the house. Her worst swearing was “gott en himmel.” When children asked “What’s this?” she always responded “Wunderfitzig im Kindervolk!” which she translated to English as “Something to make little kids ask questions.” Standing all of 3 feet 13 inches tall, she held her own. Widowed, she always seemed to have someone staying at her house, the poor, unfortunate, downtrodden, often with young children who needed help. She lived her faith every day.
But then she grew old and needed assistance herself. She hated it. When I visited her in the hospital care home, she spoke loudly, freely, and angrily. “If there is truly a God, then why am I here – after all I have done? Why do I need so much help after all the people I helped? I hate being weak!” A few weeks later, she stopped eating and found her peace.
Grandma named my mother after one of the suffragettes who fought for women’s right to vote. My mom also read the bible with both eyes open. Sometimes, at 86 years young, with a twinkle in her eye, she still quotes Proverbs to those who try to push with their religion: “Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. 7 Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.“
Today we have a new religion, a new COVEN. The SINS-2 version. It looks like everyone is a believer, donning the vestments on their face and on their children in public. Non-believers are forced to conform. Everyone anoints (or pretends to) their hands when they enter, and some when they leave, a grocery store. Some carry the purifying oil everywhere they go to be safe from the SINS. Few go to church anymore. Many churchgoing activities from my childhood are now forbidden. Attending mass? Shaking hands? Singing together? Call the authorities!
Smiling is not frowned upon – but it’s not visible under the mask. LOL is ok on Facebook and Twitter, but Laughing Out Loud without a mask in public, in a government legislatures, and even in comedy clubs is strictly forbidden. Singing in public is no longer permitted except in special circumstances, with specific rules to be followed. No whistling. Dancing?Fuhgeddaboudit. Imagine the poor yoga teacher not allowed to teach students to breath. Soon talking in public libraries and coughing at the opera will be forbidden.
Hugging? Social distancing morals don’t let us get close enough to shake hands, much less to hold hands. A kiss on the hand (or the cheek) is continental no more. It’s all fist-pumps and elbows now.
And there’s the mark. Everyone must accept the mark on the shoulder, where my grandfather held tight to make me behave. However, baring the shoulder might not be appropriate and not sufficient proof, and the mark fades quickly – so everyone is required to carry proof of the mark. The coven-pass is required to enter many public places, even my local swimming pool. The Greek philosopher Aristotle said, “Give me a child until he is 7, and I will show you the man.” The coven faithful is now asking for our children. We are all children. The way things are going, it might soon be illegal for babies to cry in public places. Seriously, for babies, crying is a healthy action, a sign of healthiness.
When I was young, I learned to “hate the sin, love the sinner“. No more. SINning, the disease, is not the issue. Saints and SINners can enter – if they have the pass. If not, verboten.
I have a lot of artistic friends – many seem to be the worst stricken. Performance arts, like singing, playing music, and dancing are forbidden at most times, even severely limited even for those with the mark. I have one friend who complained, in one breath, about not being allowed to attend the funeral to view her grandmother’s body, and in the next, admonished those who refuse the faith or fail to get the mark. I was first saddened, then shocked.
A few days ago, I ordered take-out from a local restaurant. I entered the new COVEN entrance and walked to the counter – where I was asked for my coven-pass. I’m not a believer. I received a lecture as I paid the bill. “Next time, wait outside, and we’ll deliver to the curb,” he said, trying to be polite, perhaps not wanting to lose the tip. I can’t enter unless I have a coven-pass. It makes no difference that, in this specific situation, the law is clear. I am legally allowed to enter to pick up an order without a pass. But the restaurant, like many others, has taken the faith – or the fear – to another level.
Everybody stops and stares at me.
My mask is gone as you can see.
I don’t know who to blame for this catastrophe.
But my one wish on Christmas is as plain as it can be.
All I want for Christmas is a coven-pass, a coven-pass, a coven-pass.
Gee if I could only have a coven-pass, then I could wish you Merry Christmas.
Seems so long since I could say “Sister, Suzy sit and read Epistles.”
Oh gosh oh gee how happy I’d be, if I could only whistle (in public, without a mask).
All I want for Christmas is a coven-pass, so I can visit you this Christmas.
I can buy a coven-pass. Coven-tests are freely available, but those are not valid. Unless I pay, it’s worthless – even if it’s exactly the same. With an approved and paid for pass, I can avoid some of the mores. I still need to mask up in public, anoint my hands, and faithfully maintain social distancing mores. The pass lasts three days. Then it needs to be renewed, a small inconvenience and a fee, of course. Or, I can get the mark, which is free, but still needs to be renewed regularly – not as often, although the rules seem to be constantly changing. How many times? We have no idea. There is no plan and no end in sight.
Maybe I should join the Dutch Reform Church or look for some other religious exemption? After abandoning the church at 12 and finding my own faith for more than 55 years, it feels strange that I need to sign up to one to avoid being ruled, discriminated and abused by another.
There is another option, it’s not pretty. Apparently, I can get an exception if I am damaged so severely that a doctor documents physical damage and recommends that I never get marked again. But until I can prove damage, I’m trapped. I have at least one close relative who has, inadvertently, chosen this option.
To your health, tracy
so…. Maybe you’re wondering, what do I believe?
From the start, I did not believe the coven-rules could work. There was no plan, with no plan, we have no way to check progress or failure. Today, after more than a year and half, when statistics are studied worldwide we find no difference between countries, states, and provinces that enforced more severe rules, more strictly, and those that did little or nothing. The largest anomalies are not in the SINS, but in the deaths. The richest countries, with the most sophisticated medical systems, have suffered more. Both experienced similar waves of SINS. The mark is not working either. This has been demonstrated several times by independent researchers, even as they are “fact checked” into media oblivion. Even government officials in the USA and other countries are now stating clearly that even if everyone has the mark, we will not attain “herd immunity.”
What to do? Many are asking for more rules. More severe enforcement of the rules that have not just been proven ineffective, but demonstrated to have many negative consequences. It’s time to wake up. To take the red pill. To stop censoring everyone outside of the coven, because that’s the only place we will find any truths. We need to re-read E.B. White, and step through a new door. We need to move on.
The COVEN is not working. The SINS don’t pay attention to our mores. We won’t stop the SINS from spreading until we learn to cure. We have little official news from China, but the dreaded alternative news, the conspiracy theory news, says China is curing the coven, matter-of-factly, and moving on. On the other side of the planet, outside of our news-media view, China shows almost zero cases and zero deaths since March 2020 – yes, since 2020 not 2021. What is China doing? Are they lying? Or just being ignored. Are we lying to ourselves?
I study cure. That’s my mission. I have studied cure, the theory of cure, seriously for the past six years, after learning that cured is not defined in many medical dictionaries. There is no scientific or medical definition of cured for most diseases in any medical reference. Over the next 5 years, I – without any university degree – become the (self-proclaimed) world authority of theory of cure. I am outstanding in my field – because there is no-one else who studies the basics of cure. Most doctors avoid the word cure and advise all staff to do the same.
I do not fear the SINS. I never did. I respect it’s power. I take Vitamin D supplements regularly. I do my best to eat healthy, to walk do my Tai Chi regularly – swimming has been banned again. Since my 12 year old adventures, always been wary of various religions, various covens. I know we can cure the SINS. They’ve been with us for over a year and a half – the flu, influenza has been with us forever. Many doctors know how to cure the SINS. Unfortunately, they are locked into a bureaucratic system of government, corporations, media, and social mores that dismiss any attempts to cure most diseases. If the disease can be cured, there is little need for the faith and no need for the mark, no need for the coven-test.
Which cures are better? Which are faster? Which are more effective? We have no idea. Worldwide statistics list, as I write this, over 218 million people as RECOVERED. There is not a single case of cured. ReCOVered is defined only vaguely – someone who did not die from the coven. Note: Google used to report RECOVERED statistics – they stopped, stepping back to only cases and deaths. I suspect part of the problem is simply that most of the stats are garbage and RECOVERED were the most embarrassing. Any attempt to make sense leads to more questions than answers.
Cure: Health is whole. An illness is a hole in health. A cure fills the hole.
COVEN is no different. SINS-2 is a very weak enemy. It is only dangerous to people who have gaping holes in their healthiness. We know which diseases increase SINS-2 risk. Our current medical systems consider them incurable. So we’re not trying to cure them. The cure for any illness is not a medicine, it is to fill the hole. Most of the time, we need to fill the hole with health. However, health is slow. Often it’s best to start before the illness becomes severe. Sometimes, when the illness has the advantage, we need to take stronger steps.
We need doctors who can cure.
to your health, tracy
Author: A New Theory of Cure
