30 December 2020

Directions

Directions
- a path;
How shall I live?
Who shall I be?
Where will I be? 

I chose before
- as a child, spirit;
- an adult, service;
- when older, other forms
of service. 

I need to chose
again;
- three lines
of service
seem now done. 

Spirit
still calls,
and I give heed;
but what else
might I be?

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

18 December 2020

Storm clouds

We had a storm come through yesterday. I had to make sure the yard was OK beforehand, so I actually missed the best light with the strongest contrast, but here's a couple of less impressive photos. (I like cloudscapes - now that I've finally learned to trust mobile phone cameras, I should keep one close at all times)



Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

16 December 2020

[Content Warning] A Sacrifice

Sacrificed
am I
to the new almighty
- the Dollar. 

Sacrificed
is all
of value in
this World. 

Sacrifices
are we
to this times' plague
- inhuman greed
- wilful blindness
- and discarding
  people and mores

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

11 December 2020

[Content Warning] Superfluous

Superfluous
am I
 - not to current needs,
but to current values
mores and norms, 

Superfluous
am I
to times when
fantasies
of worker dilettantes
who work not for pay
are joined to
dog eat dog savagery
in fields intellectual
aka "professional",
and all are
expected to mind read
secret data
that confidentiality
prohibits
making public.

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

10 December 2020

[Content Warning] To sleep?

To sleep, perchance to dream?
Nay
 - to stop,
not work
 - no overtime,
 - no deadlines,
 - expectations
   none
THAT
   is the dream.
Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

08 November 2020

A spring morning in Gresswell

 





















Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

01 November 2020

Surrender

Old am I
ere yet the end
Tired am I
ready to
surrender
the struggle
- try I will
do what I may
but strive
I will not
nor contend
but rest
these weary bones
I may.

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

19 October 2020

Back to the fore

So here I am
Nearer end than middle?
- certainly nearer end
than my beginning;

And I have let go
those distractions
dreams, quests
- the ones that were glamour, 

and returned to where I aimed,
all those years ago; 

my direction is resumed,
steady and steadfast, 

as I return
to that which was foremost

as I return to the way forward
from all those years ago
- back, to what was to the fore
then, and now. 

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

14 October 2020

Front yard on a dewy morning







 

 

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

16 May 2020

[Content Warning] Shrinking . . .

The world's worlds
Have shrunk to a house;
Mine to a room
- I have lost my garden.
Who will survive?

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

14 May 2020

[Content Warning: Personal Suffering] Reflection

Am I functioning, they ask
Yes, I reply;
Is that not a good thing, they ask
No, I reply.
How so, they ask
Because, I reply
I am still in pain,
Those who gave me the pain
are still in their pain,
And society, above all else,
the totality of all of us,
is in pain
because of our pains. 


Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

[Content Warning] Cross posting: More from my future autobiography: on education

This originally appeared on my political blog, at https://politicalmusingsofkayleen.blogspot.com/2020/05/more-from-my-future-autobiography-on.html.


***
As I  mentioned recently, following a radio interview, I started work on an autobiography. Completing it is going to take years - apart from having limited spare time and energy (especially given a major family illness) and the technical challenges of writing well. I've pasted below another extract from a chapter which addresses some of what I experienced in high school in the 1970s.


One of the downsides of Mackay - actually, other places as well - was the teachers at the high school who tried to use my academic performance against my sister. Maybe they were so stupid they thought being compared to someone else like was “motivating” rather than a source of despair, something that would lead to hating school and irritation with the person being used as the “standard”? Maybe they were so burned out and embittered by their experiences - and I rejected the suggestions of some of my teachers that I get into teaching because of the behaviour of my disaffected, disengaged and disruptive fellow students (the curriculum was built on rote learning and around making us into cogs for the economy) -  that they enjoyed the spitefulness of this. Maybe their instruction had been to use this, and they were so unprofessional / incompetent that they didn’t notice it wasn’t working, or they did and, Titanic like, kept sailing on, not knowing what to do. 
Maybe their upbringing was so bereft of love that they genuinely thought competition was “good”.
Everyone is unique, and FFS, everything - medical treatment, education, everything - should be adapted to suit the uniqueness of each and every individual. Otherwise is just demeaning all of us, including those doing the blandifying, into cogs on a Ford-assembly line. That harms each and every one of us, robs the world of massive amounts of talent (how many Michaelangelos, Eleanor Roosevelts, and Albert Einsteins have been lost to the world in extreme poverty? How many Nicola Teslas, Florence Nightingales,and Marie Curies lost in the mendacity of a mundane education system? How many Leonardo da Vincis, Rachel Carsons,and Nelson Mandelas have been lost to inequality of a society - especially a stupid, violent society like the USA [thank the Goddess I don’t live there!] which kills so many people who are different?), and winds up forcing society into putting resources into bottling up the problems it has created?
I saw all that in Mackay’s Milton Street high school.
I saw an Indigenous kid who had a first rate mind left isolated and locked out of opportunity by the racist hostility of teachers and the community (I offered [when he was giving me a hard time, actually, which surprised him] to help him with his homework once, but he lived in a camp out of town), I saw kids getting forced into stereotypes from the course choices they were “presented”, and I saw kids being alienated by the educational - cog-making - “system”.
My sister, by the way, turned out to be a magnificent woman - an outstanding mother, a caring woman, and someone with a career in a caring area that society downplays - well, downplays until times like now: I am writing the first draft of this while in the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown.
I don’t think my sister realises how much of how she turned out was innate to her, but I also have to give credit to her husband, and her children, who also helped bring out her inner talents.
Going back to Milton Street high school in the 70s, we had some teachers who were also trying to change the system - or buck it, and bring out the best in the kids they were teaching.
I also saw other kids who were trying to do the same - this was when the counter-cultural revolution, or the “New Age” was big. Hippies were, to use modern lingo, “a thing”, as was peace, love, and communes - I’m trying not to visualise that accompanied by a cloud of dubious legality and a long “maaaaaan”.
I can still remember telling off one of my friends when he mocked one of the girls at that school for advocating for a more loving society. And he readily acceded my point: the culture then - and now - was built on engaging with friends (“mateship”) by using unhealthy types and degrees of “making fun” of each other and those who were outside that particular group. It was to his credit that he could see that, but it was to none of our credit that we didn’t look more actively more for wholesome ways of being. 
A couple of times I mustered my spoons of courage and tried to talk to my teachers about the unfairness of what they were doing with my sister. However, I was a bit intimidated by their status, my eloquence was limited, and those particular teachers didn’t see either of us as humans, just cogs labelled “kid” to be given a notional listening to, patted on the head, and fed into the next part of the machine. 
My sister and I survived the experience, and went on to live our lives. I’ve sometimes wondered how many didn’t? I went back to my 25 year high school reunion - the only one held, and some people had surprisingly thrived, some had drifted, and others were still suffering from bullying and other experiences. (And I had a big surprise for everyone.) Not all students were there. 
Our society’s journey in education has progressed since then, not always for better: may it get better - inclusive, individualised, and beyond turning out cogs for the economy - for the sake of all us.



Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

11 May 2020

A Regiment of the Rangers of the Inner Plane Prepares


This story is the third in a sequence. The previous stories can be found here, and here. A fourth will come in due course. I had started developing this idea of Rangers years ago, for example - here, before postponing it.

As with so many things in life (and death, when one remembers to consider and include those who are discarnate), preparation is key.
In our case, we had three weeks, and had planned five meetings of various groups over that time.
The first meeting was to allow our diviners and scouts, people who could move unobtrusively around in the astral, to work with those of the Sixth Brigade to see what they could find out about the former soldier from the Second World War’s eastern front who had been causing so much astral havoc - and the network of entities he was connected to.
And it was big - but weak.
He’d niggled every person he could find with some sort of disaffection - more than nine out of ten had either not responded or had rejected his invisible urgings, but seven decades of communism and the different set of problems that came after the hope of the fall of that regime had created a lot of disaffected people . . .
However, those this entity had reached were mostly individualistic - none of them wanted to be beholden to a large organisation or movement again. He had to work hard to persuade them to think or feel the way he wanted - and he was able to absorb the negativity they created by their actions when he was successful, so he had accumulated strength, as had some of those he influenced.
But there was no cohesion, and there was significant attrition - people lost to loving relationships, the joys and challenges of raising a family, the mood-lifting influence of friends, even personal growth or spiritual choices.
The entity had to struggle to regain more entities to control than were lost, and relied on inequality, poverty, and repression to create disaffected people - and, in some cases, to exacerbate fairly normal life challenges into overwhelming problems.
And that was when the entity struck, often through dreams initially, and once a toehold of influence was there, through subtle influences even while the victims were awake.
Almost none of them realised consciously what was happening - although most did when they slept. At most, their dissatisfaction with their genuinely terrible life circumstances came with an edge of discomfort, an uneasy feeling as if their conscience was prodding them . . .
Well, actually, their consciences, in the form of their Guides, were flat out haranguing them, but often not getting through the shields of negativity that had been implanted and built in their auras.
Normally, when people experience something unpleasant, something will counterbalance that - a friend, a family member, hopefully a better turn of events in their life - even if briefly, but these people had been isolated, urged to turn away from friends and allies, and a little astral shield was enough to accrete a shield of negativity, much as a pearl builds around the minor irritation of a piece of grit.
So the first task would be to exacerbate the disunity amongst those in this network, and then balance, heal and strengthen their Guides in an attempt to guide them into reversing their decisions.
This would be undertaken by the Sixth Brigade, and the work with these victims’ Guides would commence a week before our main action.
This preliminary work was the start of us learning to work together, mostly astrally, but with some physical communication as well.
The physical communication would have normal internet security precautions, but in the astral those communicating had to learn, know, and be able to recognise the energy signatures of their counterparts even under stressful situations.
It helped that we had been taught and practised these skills during our training.
Our NCOs would also use their training and watch for anyone doing any action that went beyond public defence to imposing their will on another person.
If someone was not harming others, they had free will, and could use it to choose to be angry, or bitter: our job wasn’t to make them better people - particularly incarnates: our job was to stop them imposing their wills on others, to stop them forcing other people to be angry, or bitter, or afraid.
One of our NCOs’ tasks was the watch the division between right and wrong.
And on the right side of things, we also started allocating some active tasks for us to get involved in, once everyone else was doing theirs and didn’t need any guidance from our experience.
One set of triangles would work on the etheric, and would generate and project feelings of self-worth, confidence, and strength (one triangle per emotion), to help people break free of the control that was being imposed on them.
Another set of triangles would work on generating empathy, happiness (joy was a bit of a stretch, but that was the ideal), and inner peace on the astral levels where the target entities were.
The final set of triangles would project patience, empathy, and love - but on the astral levels where the Guides of these people were operating.
Generating and projecting such emotions was also a part of our training.
It was a long evening, but we all felt it well worth it as we headed our individual ways after it.
Now to wait for the night of the operation itself.




Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

25 April 2020

Heartlight

You can not
shine from your mind,
unless you first
shine from your heart. 

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

19 April 2020

Sketches

I've started doing some scanning/photographing of past sketches (and might add a few currently underway). Sketching is a fun way to pass time and keep my personal balance. These range from uni to recently, beginning with a few from - I think - some time in the 2010s. 



The following is from a dream sequence:



A couple of acquaintances from a sailing club were vehement that they knew where in the Whitsundays this was. It was inspired, however, by the Brisbane River . . . A quick sketch at Uni in the late 70s that helped keep me sane ☺ By the way, with most of my sketches, as they weren't of a commercial quality, if someone said they liked them I gave the sketch to them. As a result, I generally have very few with me, but they're doing some good elsewhere, so I'm reasonably content.


My contribution to a high school magazine (an exercise in perspective . . . and sailing - this had been kept by my parents, and I found it after they passed):


There is a story to this next one, which is from primary school. The teacher liked the original so she kept it for herself, and did another one for the competition we were doing this exercise for (I came second). A friend then liked it so much I did one for him. Then someone spilled water over the copy for the competition, so I did a fourth one, by which stage I was getting tired (and a bit stressed - this was all in an hour), which is why the headsails don't line up with the mast heads. (It's also suffered a bit of wear and tear over half a century or so.)


This last one is a poor quality scan of a poor photo. The sketch, done in the 80s I think, was, in many ways, my best, in my opinion. I threw it out when I was thinking of suicide (my partner at the time didn't have a clue what was going on - which is part of why she is an ex-). I am, however, planning on recreating a version of it for my main blog header at some stage. It's here as a reminder to me of that commitment.


I have resumed sketching - and am having another go at using colour, but I suspect I will wind up staying with my favourite - black and white.

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

09 February 2020

[Content Warning] A fifth yarn - back to sailing

These comments are a little out of sequence, but sailing has not always been good. Most sailing clubs I've been to have been racist, sexist or misogynistic, homophobic/transphobic/biphobic / heteronormative/cisnormative, etc. (Every sailor I met until I was in my late 20s was white.)

I've been subjected to a level of transphobic abuse that left me unwilling to have anything to do with that sport/pastime, although sailing organisations have, for some years, been trying to address that. They've got the policies in place, although they are generic, but I don't know how well they have implemented them, and I don't feel like being a guinea pig. I'm more interested in cruising, but getting a mooring takes so long I would have to get a berth in a marina (I don't have car that could tow a trailer-sailor, and don't have the money or inclination to get one), which is another place I've received transphobic abuse.

I once wrote an email to a cruising blog about this topic, when a few people there were trying to discuss it.

My email was:
I thought I'd add my two cents worth to the debate about women in sailing - mainly, by providing some links about surveys on what keeps women out, and what has been done about overcoming those problems:

First off, the survey to find out what stopped women getting into sailing which was commissioned by my local state-based organisation, Yachting Victoria: http://www.foxsportspulse.com/get_file.cgi?id=2714747, with the support of a government body - VicHealth, because of the benefits to health of being active.


Of the issues identified in that survey, I can certainly relate to time commitments being a problem. When I was last sailing I had just begun a relationship with someone who wound up needing both hips replaced and on disability pension just after we got together (and just after we took out a joint loan), and since then there have been a swag of step-kids and now my father has Parkinsons.
The main reason I got out of sailing, however, was because of some blatant discrimination (I am a lesbian). I could have taken legal action, but I didn't have the time, energy or money to do so - see aforementioned family issues. I did talk to a few people about my experiences, however, and that has helped contribute to some codes of practice (starting at government level) about dealing with discrimination in sport generally, as well as in sailing. The Yachting Victoria document is at http://vic.yachting.org.au/get_file.cgi?id=3377463

On that, the 2nd last club I was a member of was the Royal Yachting Club of Victoria - they had Elliott 5.5s for hire, which were the closest we could get to the Elliott 6s to be use for the Gay Games in Sydney in 2002, and one of our team lived nearby. I had gone once before (about 30 years before) to a Royal club in Queensland, and was treated so snootily I swore I would have nothing to do with any club with Royal in its name, but there was no other choice. It became fairly clear at that time that the club was struggling (as a lot of clubs here are, compared to the hey days of the 70s), and they were opening their doors to a much wider circle -  there were even tradies who became members when we did :) . All still white, however.
When I have been talking to non-sailing people generally about getting involved in sailing, one of the biggest perceptions to overcome is that people have to be rich: I keep pointing out the need for crews, and have done so since I started as a skinny crew decades ago (my first skipper said my arms had the muscles of a chicken leg - I've done weight training since then, and a bit of middle age spread has given me more of a chicken wing effect, rather than a chicken leg).
The survey also mentions concerns about feeling out of place as a barrier, and about the openness of the sport to newcomers and to females, particularly in what can be perceived as a male dominated sport, as barriers. My experience has been that expectations of stereotypes is more of an issue - women were expected to be in the kitchen, rather than out sailing, when I started in the 70s. (I've refused to do any more kitchen duty than men ever since then - and I don't make cuppas in any engineering situation.)

One of the other issues limiting women's participation in a range of areas - and I am surprised this didn't come up in the survey - is lack of visibility. I've also had a fair bit to do with getting women into engineering (my day job), and the lack of clearly visible examples/role models is one of the major problems there. Lack of visible LGBT people is a barrier to addressing discrimination against LGBT people (discrimination has been shown to cause health problems, incidentally) and problems such as lack of confidence of LGBT people. Likewise, no doubt, for people of different races.

You yourself have mentioned the limited numbers of women you've seen in sailing. We seem to have more women actively involved in sailing here - 29%, according to the survey, and there have always been at least a few, throughout my sailing 'career', which has been good.

It helps enormously that there are now women in sailing who are very visible, such as the women you mentioned, or Dawn Riley (http://www.dawnriley.com/), or an Australian woman who is my sailing heroine: former female skipper of an 18 foot skiff, and navigator for the incredible Wild Oat XI and other yachts (including Volvo yachts), Adrienne Cahalan (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adrienne_Cahalan).

I was also impressed by the woman you showed tacking her way through anchored boats with two dinghies in tow.

Any increased visibility of women in sailing, or a reduction of the perception that women may not be welcome, will be good. On that, here are a couple more links about women in sailing:
I look forward to more women getting into sailing, so you can show more of us being active participants.
 I've also written about this on my main blog.

From https://gnwmythr.blogspot.com/2016/01/post-no-811-search-for-community.html:
When I was a kid, I learned how to sail, and became involved in the sailing clubs of a couple of places we lived. The experience was novel to me and, with my enthusiasm for history, I became fascinated with the “traditions” of the sea –things like always going to help vessels in distress, and “the romance” of sail (no Internet links as everything seemed to be based around finding a relationship partner  “romantic” cruises and the like).

Now, although the traditions of the sea and romance of the sail do exist, I was a bit naïve about all this:
  • there were economic drivers behind many of the situations that put people at risk, economic drivers (e.g., enabling the growth of empires) that I do not see very favourably now;
  • there were “less admirable” traditions that I selectively didn’t acknowledge (although my adoptive father pointed me in the direction which led to me finding them out), things such as bullying crews, insurance claims that killed crews, and the appalling working conditions and life expectancy generally of crews from the era I was holding in such esteem – see here, here (and here), here;
  • there was also the involvement of marine traffic in slavery, and things like gunboat diplomacy.
(Incidentally, real historical pirates were sadistic and violent  criminals, doing things like rape, torture, murder and locking women and children in a burning church, although they did have some democratic aspects.)

Closer to home, there was the aggressive behaviour of many competitive sailors (usually not the case with the best sailors, I have to say) – a fault I also exhibited at times, to my eternal shame, and which is a small part of the reason I am not rushing to get involved with sailing clubs again. (I avoid yacht clubs because, in my parlance, they’re the province of the upper class / elite, and involve expenditures of money that are, at times, truly obscene [if you don’t have money, most sailing dinghies need crews, so go to a sailing club, learn how to sail, make a commitment, and enjoy :) ]. And I have been treated shabbily by some of those four decades ago although I was welcomed and very well treated by two such clubs in Melbourne when we were training for the Gay Games in Sydney, so things have probably changed.)

There is also endemic discrimination in most of the sailing clubs I’ve been to – even nominally LGBT sailing clubs have discrimination, and the vast majority are white people from the middle and working class. My experience of such discrimination is something I’ve contributed to those trying to stamp that out (e.g., see the AYF’s policy – which has a few key gaps and silences, particularly on the offence of misgendering and the vexed issue of access to changing rooms, but is a start in the right direction), but it has left me with a profound wariness of returning to those environs at any time soon. I also want to write about the discrimination against women and others I’ve come across in sailing clubs in a “how to” book on sailing that I’ve started (and may not finish this lifetime … SIGH). To quite an extent, this problem reflects the problems of society – hence, in the 70s, women were largely expected to run the canteen, whereas now, there is an increasing acceptance of women as active participants in a range of sports, not just sailing – although there is still a way to go . . . 

(and the original post continues)
But it hasn't all been bad. From https://gnwmythr.blogspot.com/2011/04/meditation-and-interaction-of-souls.html:
When I was younger, in my 20s (and getting frustrated with people thinking I wasn't yet even 18 ... ah, those were the days - in the last millenia!), I competed in a national sailing championships. I didn't do all that well for a whole range of reasons, but one incident occurred during one light weather race that is a good start to this post.
Basically, as we were sailing in a light wind, someone I knew a little, who was crewing in another boat, laughed. At that moment, a phrase from a book written by Richard Bach (possibly "Illusions"?), who also wrote Jonathon Livingston Seagull, came to mind. The phrase was, more or less, that we are the otters of the Universe - fun loving, playing creatures. As the phrase was comprehended by me, my eyes rolled up into my head, leaving only the whites showing, and I became aware of what I was led to believe was the soul of everyone in the boats - which I perceived as a large sphere of light around six feet (say ... two metres) in diameter.

Nowadays, I would probably describe this as having become aware of everyone at the level of their Soul Star chakra.
(and the original post continues)
Food for thought . . .

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

A Ranger Plan

I'd had a promotion recently - not one that came with money, as it was in an entirely voluntary organisation based on psychic service to humanity. I'd been deemed as being fit to be a Lieutenant  - or Lootenant, as our American friends would say. As usual, worldly life demands came first, but I was now the leader of a group (a platoon) of nearly two dozen other psychics, healers, and diviners, people who called ourselves Rangers both because we were members of the Rangers of the Inner Plane, and because we were mostly proud - or at least satisfied - with the more than a year's worth of training in group and psychic work that we had received when we joined. It had actually taken me three years to get through the training, but that had been stretched out by having to care after family members - and there'd been not even a thought of criticism from anyone else.

And I should know, given the training we'd had on telepathy.

Normally I would meet with the other nearby platoon leaders, but we were meeting with other squadron and platoon leaders in our regiment. We weren't all face-to-face, of course - that wasn't practical when allowing Rangers to put physical life needs first for a group - a Regiment - that was spread over most of the south east of Australia. To conserve energy, we didn't try to do this psychically either: Internet was fine - practical, reasonably reliable, and easy.

I was expecting the Colonel in charge of our Regiment - which had been called the Isil'zha, from one of our founder's favourite television science fiction series - to begin, but no, we were addressed by Brigadier Daniel (we rarely bothered with last names) himself, leader of the Second Brigade, which took care of Australia.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight. As you've probably guessed, we're planning some work across multiple continents, so we're getting as many units involved as we can."

He smiled and continued, "How many people that will involve is, as always, contingent on other life demands, which are always valid."

"We've had multiple psychic scouting and divination tell us that three entities are trying to create a strong and direct connection between the emotions of suffering being caused by poverty and conflict in central Africa and the Sahel with conservative media in the US. Needless to say, we don't want that to happen.

"The Eight and Ninth Brigades have been working on getting rid of poverty and ending the conflict in Africa, both of which involve addressing corruption."

He paused and looked around us and those on the monitors before continuing. 

"As always, fixing these problems requires physical action, as well as nonphysical, and we have a few people in touch with what is happen in the physical world there so we can make sure we coordinate with them and support their needs.

"Over in the US of A, as always their politics is concerning, and the wide influence of their very backward and reactionary form of ultra-conservatism is of great concern. We're worried about what analogies and imagery they might develop and start using if this influence becomes active.

"Now, the three entities. Two are incarnates. One is a victim of abuse in South America. The fourth Brigade reports she was subject to prolonged sexual abuse, and has had no healing or support. Tenth Brigade, in India, has some healers who have lived experience, and they will be taking the lead in addressing her situation. Once the healing is done, the South American - fourth - Brigade will work at dissolving her negative links to the others.

"Somewhat understandably, she is unaware of the links, but has a subconscious perception that they enable her to get even with her attackers - who happen to be people like some of those in the USA. She doesn't understand, and is unlikely to at a conscious level, that she is actually feeding them what they want, rather than punishing them by giving them what distressed her."

I and quite a few others nodded at that. Learning that "all people are unique individuals" also meant what one considered good or bad varied across the range of humanity, thus one had to careful not to strengthen those negative people who would thrive on receiving hate, was a difficult lesson to learn, and even harder to implement.

We'd all grown quite a bit as people during our training.

The Brigadier continued: "The other incarnate is a male in Africa whose planned life path of gaining through corruption is disappearing, and, in his resentment, he wants revenge. Either the Eight or the Ninth will work at clearing the negative influences around him, and strengthening his impulses towards good."

He looked at our Colonel, and she smiled. Ah, this was where we would come in.

"The third entity is a particularly smarmy earthbound entity. They've been causing havoc ever since they died on the Second World War's Eastern Front. We're not sure which "side", or even whether they were in the military, but they've  been a problem ever since.

"This is where the Isil'zha Regiment comes into play, as we understand you actually had a similar case recently."

Our Colonel, Belinda, gave a run down on the operation we'd done a few months ago, where we'd found some very negative entities in a nearby block, entities whose energy was contributing to domestic violence - including violent.

The Brigadier continued: "The Sixth Brigade in Europe will be doing the work against this entity, and we want your Regiment to pass on the benefits of their experience, and then being on backup to aid them during the actual operation."

He paused. "As always with this sort of work, getting a time that suits everyone is near impossible, and this is one of those actions where we need everyone working at the same time.

"What we've settled on is early morning in the US and South America, midday or just after in Europe and Africa, and the evening here."

OK, that was it. Colonel Belinda took over, and we quickly arranged a smaller meeting for the Regiment.

But that's another story.


Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)

07 February 2020

[Content Warning] A Ranger Patrol

We were a small group that night: only a few over a dozen. We normally tried for at least twenty, and, even allowing for the demands of family, friends, work, and life, that was mostly achievable. But not tonight.
We were crowded into Dan’s living room when our leader, Casz - Carey, strode in, and announced “Gavin’s got an early birthday celebration for his middle daughter, Mae’s got a work deadline, and Ash’s still interstate.”
She was greeted with indifference: our two healers continued giving Reiki to anyone who wanted, our Artificer, Sarah, continued tending to her crystals and other magickal items, and about three people raised an eyebrow slightly - one twitched both brows up. Tara had a monobrow (and was proud of it and the heritage that gave it to her), but we counted each half separately, and none of it had moved anyway.
“Good.”
She smiled, and said briefing would be in five minutes, or after she had a cuppa, whichever took longer.
My Triangle comprised myself, obviously, and my friends Sharlot and Tony. We had finished our personal prep (meditation for Sharlot, music for Tony, and breathing for me), and were chatting, getting into the vibe of each other when Casz strolled back in, drinking a tea that had a seemingly impossible number of rosehip tea bags squeezed into her cup. She leaned against the doorframe, getting a sense of how everyone was.
As Casz's cuppa neared eat-through-the-bottom-of-the-cup strength, she strode to the mantelpiece, turned, and said “OK, people, listen up”.
The healers wound down their work and closed their patients’ auras, and everyone settled, focused on our Lieutenant.
“We’re doing a sweep of the next block over tonight, but in three, maybe four, stages.
“First stage: while Tara’s Triangle does recon, Kelly’s, Greg’s, and Con’s triangles will do protection. Graham: I want your team to help Artificer Sarah. Healers on standby.
“Second stage: we sweep anything negative from the block. There might be a third stage, depending on where the links take us, and fourth will be the usual mop up.”
I’m Kelly, by the way - and I’m ranked as a Corporal in our little organisation.
Casz’d made a good call with Graham: he was unsettled, and his Triangle wasn’t likely to be at full efficiency. We suspected his aunt’s cancer might have returned, but, unless he wanted to talk about it, we weren’t going to push - not even gently, especially not now.
Maybe later - quietly, gently, if he was open to talking.
Sharlot, Tony and I started our synchronisation: breathe and visualise to get key chakras on a similar frequency, then connecting the chakras using our favourite senses - colours for me, sound for Tony, and scent for Sharlot. After a few minutes we felt connected - we weren’t “one”, we maintained our individuality, as that let us draw on the unique strengths of our characters and our friendships.
But we could act as one on the astral, or whatever level of reality we were going to be on tonight.
And we could do that with our eyes open, as we had been trained to do - for some of the time, at least.
I felt someone kneel beside me, and slowly opened my eyes, fiercely keeping my astral focus where it should be. It was Bill - Casz’s favourite, who would be our Sergeant tonight.
“OK, Kel.” He was the only person I let call me that. “I’ve drawn protection duty tonight. For this first stage, we want you to focus on Earth energies, and anything that tries to come in from lower frequency realms.”
“Got it, Sarge” I replied. “Earth and etheric.”
He nodded and withdrew.
I sent a thought to Sharlot and Tony, and felt their understanding flow back.
We’d done this plenty of times before, and, through lots of trials, knew what worked best for us.
First off, we activated the chakra located in the base of our auras, a little below our feet, and connected those to each other. Then we each generated an energy from those chakras. I saw them as colours, so, to me, Sharlot projected purple, Tony blue, and I green; Tony equated to it as a C chord, and Sharlot described it in terms of a recipe.
We wove a fine net - a psychic shield - with the energies, and visualised it below the floor, acting as a filter for any negative or disharmonious energies.
Of course, when I say “negative”, that’s a bit of a shorthand for a concept we had spent months dissecting during our training - and we had also learned that energies that were simply incompatible - disharmonious - were more likely to be a problem than what people called “evil”, which was something else entirely.
But we didn’t want the distraction of the irritatingly annoying, any more than the grumpy, cranky, or vaguely malicious, let alone anything that was directed and intentionally harmful.
Once we had the net-shield in place, we extended antennae into the earth, and started to sense the influences about us.
Before I got too far into that, however, I opened my eyes, looked Bill’s way and found his steady gaze coming back my way, and he nodded. He knew where we were at, so I closed my eyes, and dove back in.
The house had a bit of a history, and some of it included shoddy building: we built a solid barrier around the residue of an old night soil station in the backyard, tied in to the magnificent trees in the front and back yards, and extended the filter down from the boundaries - where we called on Yinepu, known to most by the Greek name Anubis, to guard our boundary and the ways from the Underworld.
We could feels four streams of energy coming through - three through the Earth herself, and one through the etheric.
The etheric flow came from a pub two blocks away, and what little was good was lost in the chaotic jangle of uninhibited desperation, frustration, and anger: nothing much to do with that other than direct it deeper, and let Mother Earth herself transform and recycle the energies.
Two of the earth energies were beneficial - one from a nearby stream that hadn’t been altered too much, and the other from a local park on a hill. We welcomed those with gratitude.
The third came from a leyline that had been cut by a recent construction project. We checked, and found one of our healers could start work on that, including patching up a re-routing of the disrupted flow.
I was about to check how the other teams were going, when I heard Bill quietly say “Corporal”.
I kept my eyes closed, and listened.
“Hold at where you’re at for now, we’re dealing with some problems in the astral - with the help of Sarah’s toys. Should be ready to proceed soon.”
I nodded.
We’d all been trained well - we knew and trusted the abilities of the others in this, our little platoon, and had no urge to drop our tasks charge vaingloriously over and see if we could “help”. Tony and I had a mild curiosity - Sharlot was too focused, but we’d be told the relevant details later.
A few minutes later, Bill was back: Tara’s team was out searching, and trying to be as undetectable as they could.
Normally, we would extend the protection around whatever “location” we were working on in the nonphysical realms - mostly astral, but often etheric of late. That, however, made it impossible to be what was the astral equivalent of “invisible” - in fact, our protected sphere could be quite a distraction in and of itself.
So, for now, we kept going with our work. After a couple of minutes we could sense entities trying to come in - nothing too strong, nothing too malicious, so we redirected them into Mother Earth - except one, who was an earthbound human, one who thought he had to stay in the earth until the neochristian resurrection: it was a moment’s effort to do a well practised rescue, and he was on his grateful way.
It was always hard to tell how long these investigations went - it depended on mood as much as anything else, but tonight’s patrol seemed to be back in less than a quarter of an hour.
We could hear Tara, Casz, and Bill and the other sergeant conferring, and then felt the energy of consensus.
When Bill came to us, he explained there were three living people, two men and a woman, who were buried in energies that were not theirs.
“Kelly: Tara and Greg’s teams are going to work on the three incarnates with the healers, your and Con’s Triangles are going to do all the protection. We want you to take on Water as well. We’re expecting some discarnate earthbound entities in the incarnates’ auras, and have signs of two external controllers.”
The controllers were a problem: they were often dead - discarnate - people who just knew they were dead, and were either angry at that and wanting to get even with the world, or were taking advantage of being invisible to most incarnate - physically living - people to wreak revenge, havoc or act out on sadism.
Those entities didn’t want to stop doing harm, and getting their claws out of other’s could be difficult. It was the astral equivalent of trying to stop someone on a gun rampage.
We added in the energies of Water to our protective mix, and readied to split our shield to be present here, around the physical location of our team, and wherever these entities were on the next block.
I could feel our energies start to drain, and then Henrietta was there, doing their (Henrietta was non-binary) best work to boost our energies without disrupting our work. It only took a couple of minutes, and we were back to full steam. I sent a thought of thanks to them for their help, and went back to complete focus on our task.
Tara was good: we could feel her and Greg’s teams mopping up stray clouds of energy, dissolving psychic links (which some refer to as “the ties that bind”) with positive energy (which is actually more than the usual conception of “love”), and - with the aid of Sarah‘s toys - demolished some negative astral objects (one in the shape of a knife, one - surprisingly - in the shape of a tampon) that had started out as thought forms and been fed over several years. Using sounds to help destabilise those worked particularly well.
They found a couple of earthbound entities drawn to the conflict of domestic violence: one had been a victim who suicided and couldn’t break free of the despair, the other a perpetrator who’d died in a car accident. Once they were gone, the unease and fear and hiding energies lost a great deal of their strength, and the energies started to break up into smaller packages that were easier to dissolve, one at a time - again, with “love”.
The work was going well - I thought it was around 80% done (we all always checked actual percentages, and kept going until the consensus was 100%) - when we saw a small group of clear and bright auras coming our way. They had a sense of being incarnates, and paused nearby - waiting, patiently and politely, not wanting to disrupt our work, but clearly with something of import.
Casz herself went out on the astral to greet them, and we all felt the flow of information come back from her.
One of the entities was Brenda, a devotee of Bast, which also explained why two of the entities were cats; the other was Kara, an actual Valkyrie. [1]
The main source of the problems afflicting the block came, they told Casz (it was incredible how much cats could find out - even on the astral they could be observed but dismissed), from a particularly disaffected entity - an earthbound entity who had died without the power he craved, and was using his newfound “invisibility” to build an empire.
They were fairly sure he was, in turn, the puppet of someone similar, who had been building their energy for far longer.
Casz welcomed them to our work, and we set to with renewed purpose. We had seen this sort of working result in improved behaviour, sense of community, and mood in the places we had cleared; this was now suggesting we could improve the energies around many places.
And we were understrength.
Oh well, at least we had some outside help.
Casz looked over the area we were working - there! She directed us to focus all our efforts, all our energies, for a moment, all of us, even those doing protection or healing, to one location in a swirl of low strength negative energy. When we did, the energy blew away, and there was the entity we had been told off - hovering, almost like a puppet master, with links radiating in many directions, links carrying his subtle messages that warped and controlled the actions of those he influenced.
He started to radiate new links at several of us, trying to gain control of people and this new threat. Kara swept those that went towards her and Brenda away with contempt and an astral sword, not even bothering to call on a shield, while both cats clawed the back of the figure and then disappeared back to the bubble Brenda had built.
As protectors, our job was to take care of such threats, and we lassoed them with ropes of rainbow energy, and Sarah thought to us where a store of small shields were that she had created some time ago. We shifted those into place around those being threatened - all at the speed of thought.
In the meantime, Greg had drawn a tree root of energy from Mother Earth which encircled the entity, and started drawing his negativity away to be recycled.
The entity created a visualisation of a sword, an evil thing that radiated nausea, but when he lifted his arm to strike down at the tree root (it is amazing the physical world thinking that can limit actions in the astral) Tara’s team brought down a tornado of brilliance, which wrapped itself around both sword and arm.
Unsettled now, the entity looked up, startled.
The energy was rapidly draining out, and the entity was subsiding into an almost childlike petulance as he lost the reservoir of negativity that had been built up.
As this progressed, Con thought to us all of a group of entities who were waiting nearby to take this entity to the astral - one had been a parent in the entity’s most recent life.
That was good: we had all been working intensely for a while now, and despite the efforts of our healers, would soon need a rest. Having someone else to do the actual rescue would reduce what we had to, and make the evening a little less exhausting.
By now the entity was weakened enough not to keep actively fighting, so Can and my teams started mopping up the influences from the entity (how many years had he been there?) while also keeping the protection going.
Multitasking was also a key part of our training.
Suddenly Brenda pointed, and she and Kara stood (these physical world descriptions are, you understand, a convenient ellipsis for a more accurate description) shoulder to shoulder, and extending their adjoining arms: they extended a weave of indigo light that vibrated powerfully, and, somehow, outlined a delicate tracery of links going into the entity - mostly from behind, some into the head, some the sides of his back; links that had the same nauseating quality of the now long gone sword, but less obvious.
The controller had been controlled himself.
Brenda called to our healers, who radiated healing to each of the insertion sites, and Kara wrapped the cords around a spear, and delicately drew them out, making sure they couldn’t whip around and find someone else to connect to.
But the links were withering, dying as soon as whoever was on the other end realised they were were on no further use. Quickly, one of Brenda’s cats raced along the line of the links, and sent an image back to her, which she then relayed to us: an image of someone in a 1700s style British uniform, choleric, angry, petulant about the decline and loss of empire, and trying to subjugate the world - or at least this nation.
The entity wasn’t anchored to our capital: he was at the site of the first white settlement, the point where the violent white invasion of this land had started.
Casz, Bill and the other sergeant joined Brenda and Kara, and cauterised the links all the way back to the entity. They were good - very good: the entity would know he had lost a puppet, but not who had taken the puppet from him.
With that, the entity we were working on collapsed to a normal, miserable, lost soul - angry, but without the extra energy that had made the anger a tool of oppression. He reacted with a mix of shame and hope when his former parent came near, and was lost to our site as they enfolded him in light.
We, in turn, could now do the same with the block we were working on. It wasn’t enough to remove the negative energies, you had to build up a positive counter to it - like healing a trauma. This wasn’t just our healers’ responsibility, we could all do the basic skills to some extent, and we all shared in this part of the work.
It helped heal us, as well as the land we were working on.
Sharlot eased out of our team, and joined with the other passionate dog lover - Sarah - and set Yinepu to patrolling the borders of the block.
And with that, it was time to end.
We returned our awarenesses to our various selves, grounded and centred, and eased off the connections between the chakras, and all then spent some time making sure we were all ourselves - individuals, with our own mix of unique characteristics, and free of outside influence or connections that shouldn’t be.
We stretched and looked at the time - it had only been a couple of hours. Before we started the supping that would finish our grounding, Casz spoke up.
“Well, we have our next project. We’ll need to work on weakening Admiral Angry of course, but when we get to the big undertaking, Brenda will bring Bast and Kara will bring other Valkyries.”
We looked at each other and sighed. At least we had snacks now, and a few weeks of everyday life beforehand.


[1] You can find a story about Brenda and Kara at https://musingsofkayleen.blogspot.com/2015/01/agent-of-bast.html
       If you want to know more about the Rangers of the Inner Plane, see here and here.You can also find an excellent sigil for dissolving hate at https://www.patheos.com/blogs/tempest/2019/01/a-sigil-for-the-dissolution-of-hate.html.


Copyright © Kayleen White, 2020 (where this date is different to the year of publication, it is because I did the post some time ago and then used the scheduling feature to delay publication) I take these photographs and undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary or artistic merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and due financial recompense, of course :)