a mental health science type post

[Curaezipirid]

Salam and Hello and welcome

. . . not exactly an announcement, but that I have done a thing which I am strongly proud of today, and want to show it. Depending upon the fullness of your own belief, and how much of the real world already in existance you are able to perceive, perhaps you might take my post in the form of an allegorical teaching. It is about the effort necessary to make so as to cause that the wrong sihr which made the world impure, can be altered by well measured sihr of Angels. So read when your mind is willing.



In this post I want to address a very serious issue, but it is difficult to address, especially through the internet. I know because I have tried to before, in a number of other Islamic websites. However I hope this time the outcome might be better.

It is not about being an Aboriginal Australian, which is usually how I can claim to have been given any bad reputation. Yet it is also very directly aligned with that fact, but not necessarily always provably so.

But it is about a family court case I am involved with between myself and my ex-defacto partner of nine and a half years, to whom I have three very well minded sons. But it is not thanks to their father that their own well mindedness is being maintained whilst living at his house, and most especially neither are any thanks due to their step-mother, who fancies herself a good person only at my expense.

What has been portrayed through a myriad of legal contexts, but worst of all in a, now out of date, forensic psychiatric report, is basically that:
because I began to believe in Islam and practise genital wudu, asking my children’s father to re-inforce the lesson for my children;
but was also, at the time the court case opened, briefly engaged to an Aboriginal man;
and also having had the symptoms of a mild post traumatic stress condition, which is caused from, the combination of an accident in that I sat in a bucket of hot water at three, and then being caught in a natural disaster when eighteen, nearby to naturally hot water pools in New Zealand;
that therefore, my sanity might be in such terrible condition as to make me a permanent danger to my children, even to the extent that it is traumatic for their minds and their father’s mind to so much as say hello on the telephone.

The children’s father has sought to establish through lying to court and to a forensic psychiatrist, in lies that are readily able to be disproven, that my general mental condition is so bad as that my self could be put under duress to rape a child. That he reported so very directly to the forensic psychiatrist has preventing me obtaining a blue card, and because my usual occupation is as a youth worker, I have not been able to work in my normal occupation, which has exacerbated the problem, in that I could not afford to fund my legal representation.

Normally I am totally unaware of any of the disturbing mental associations which many persons report to me of experiencing in association with myself. Because of the general reguard I am held in, I have experienced a gradual realisation of the extent to which my reputation was damaged here in Queensland before I even arrived here, among those persons whom might have been my peers in previous years. People I might name as peers in the Australian community are Aborigines whom are active in the land rights movement, and whom are mothers of children the same age as my own; members of the regulated socialist organisations; and any community of religious believers whom I have been in prayer with.

However early this morning, 23rd May 2007, (four days away from the fortieth anniversary of Aborigines being made citizens of a nation state - if that has any meaning to yourself), I received the set of mental impressions in which a person I know had been causing that my own person is perceived by many to be the responsible person for other peoples acts of sexual hatred. It is a good thing to have been able to notice the images are able to be received with gaps between each image in the sequence, which has enabled myself to put the truth in among the long standing imagery.

So I am going to here describe those images, and while describing, also place my own certain life story truth in place. My every effort for the past four years at July 10th, has been towards winning the family court case, and it is to that outcome which I am here working. My whole self in reality, is totally oriented into being a mother and a wife and a good daughter, and every other part of me is only an impurity; so can I ask of readers to bear myself as it is in reality in mind.

The sequence of images:

The preface is that in the past when I lay in bed in an automated mode of life, with my children’s father near me, I often made my hand like to an emus head, and made a joke of myself in that.

However many persons have been taking to their self, when after engaging in an act of degrading the Human anatomical function of gender:

The mind might inadvertently have been associating with an image of a puppet of some sort, but always one with a clearly strong association with greed;
There was an assumption attached to the image that it was being manipulated by the hand of a stranger, and that the puppet is the self, but also behaviour, of the person whom committed the wrong deed;
However, clearly because these images related to wrongful action as well as only mind, it must be held that the enactor of the deed, could have controlled their behaviour and not so acted, since we Human beings can control our posture if nothing else;
Therefore the correct regard to hold the manifestation of the puppet within, is that it is being controlled by the hand of the person whose mind notices it, but only when and if that hand is also attuned with the hand of Allah;
Any implications made by any persons whom have seen myself using my hand alike to a puppet, are clearly mistaken, since I have never, when with my hand inside a puppet (an example was with a monkey puppet I was given to hold by a Canadian acquaintance, at the 2000 Olympics Soccer matches in Canberra), ever had any thought or associations aligned with controlling the mind or behaviour of any other person. I am here in Allah, Elohim

The next image to appear is a wide open mouth with the tongue poking out. It is known to be at cause from the practise of homeopaths whom dose patients with a dose of potent medicine under the tongue, and so whom see their patients with wide open mouths, and are also likely to have examined the tongue. I have been a patient for some eleven years of one such homeopath, whom is not qualified, and had enticed me into his practise by quoting from the teaching of George Ivanovitch Gurdjieff. I have subsequently studied that teaching and can relate to it well enough to know that the homeopath is not adhereing to the real nature of the work he ascribes to belief in. In fact, my own experience of his knowledge, is that he uses his information about what medicines he had prescribed as homeopathic medicine, (that is, a medicine alike to the disease is prescribed so as to enable a patients self knowledge, and only thereby recovery, in having swallowed culpability), to various patients whom might be vulnerable, as I have been to his treachery, so as to exaggerate the condition on long into the future, only so as to alleviate the guilt he and his own wife are bearing, most especially from sexual conduct. Also he uses the doses he gives to one patient to feed through a story to another patient for them to blame the first patient by. Perhaps most of the blame was falling to my shoulders only because I have not once blamed any person in the situation, and not even the homeopath until well after I had very clean behavioural evidence in my bodily experiential witness. The image is usually associated to the ills of gossiping. But the fact of whom gossips and what gossip is, had not been accurately being identified by those whom promote the image. For example, the homeopath whom I am by now quite familiar with, had often openly gossiped about one patient to another, and frequently enough patients complain about his approach. He seemed to have reserved myself in some special favour and only gossiped about me to his wife and close companions rather than to the whole body of his patients. But he also was blaming his patients for ever remembering or repeating what he was telling them, as though their ears were faulted for hearing. But when in a physician’s office we ought to regard stories we are told as having a teaching element, or warning against wrong. The homeopath here in my regard did often use teaching stories when speaking with myself, for example: the statistician whom was diagnosed with an illness with a 100% fatality rate, and had to cure himself of misplaced belief about statistics before he could find the cure of the disease. I have the full set of all the medicines which were prescribed to me, and my children, and note often that many persons attuning with police, (both criminal and legal professionals and many others), when wondering what regard to hold me in, find themselves receiving images representing one or other of the food substances which are able to trigger a negative response in my body from those medicines. The homeopathic literature defines all such possibilities thanks to the good work in the field of homeopathy by many believers as well as the abuse of its nature by kaffir.

So the image of the mouth with the tongue is truly an image from the face of a person being gossiped to and not the mouth of whom is gossiping. Although, if you want to, you could take me here as a gossip, for in my own self regard is the total account to bear for the existence of such a homeopath, now having related the story.

The image of the mouth with a tongue can become turned into an umbrella, and an umbrellas can be regarded as an upside down cup with a handle. That is, a cup for catching ills instead of health giving energy. That is within a 100% thanks to my son.

Then the images which have been commonly been perceived, had a sight from the view of a person pushing a bicycle in the rain. The whole array of bicycle imagery implies a work ethic. Pushing the bicycle implies either an intolerance to riding, or having had an accident. The homeopath has a friend, whom also practises homeopath, and is whom first communicated to me about the Gurdjieff teaching, whom had a very bad accident upon her mountain bike. She is usually held is regard of many as quite an amazing character. But in her attendance upon children she is very negligent: she left her own son in the care of a man with a conviction for having had anal intercourse with a minor, and when I once left my son as a toddler with her, she let him tip a whole pot of glossy enamel aqua green coloured paint all over his body. She even had described to me that she had seen that it was about to happen and did not know why she could not herself act to prevent the fact of the paint spill. Now my own associations with that view of pushing the bicycle in the rain, were initially only of this particular person, whom had told me enough for me to know that she had somehow blamed the fact of her accident upon my own self. Perhaps that is why. But also it is that my mind can associate with a story from a group of her peers about a mountain bike race which they had a team competing in, and in which the Canadian person earlier mentioned was racing. That Canadian was first a patient of the homeopathic practise of the amazing accident haver, and later of the other homeopath, and while in my acquaintance had delivered a baby in somewhat of a miraculous sort of condition given the state of her own health, with much unacknowledged support from me, given as my thanks to her for teaching me to cook a chocolate and beetroot cake. The rain imagery could equitably have been her experience, which it is my preference to believe. My every association with the second person was always through the first mentioned person here, because that is how we had met. And there is in my memory a description of the second complaining about riding in the rain, but not that the first had her accident in the rain.

However, that I do not know for definite in that instance need be held to the side, if we begin to restring together the sequence, in an example of how the work of Angels with Jinn together can cause that acts of wrongful sihr are reshaped so as to reform the real world:

Puppet (then the person’s own hand operating it instead of a strangers); Mouth (that turns into an umbrella when that puppet grabs hold of it); (then the puppet holds the umbrella up and so) Pushing a bicycle in the rain (is in the rain experienced under an umbrella, of the shade falling);

Then the final image in the sequence had been ???

I do not know since all I have experienced was the bike rider using the puppet and mouth images as reason alone to blame me for their misery.

But thereby, if the image sequence has arrived at the person whom enacted the ill deed in sexual conduct, finding themselves to be their own puppet master, then finding that by blaming the mouth the puppet on their hand reaches out for the mouth and it becomes an umbrella, and then they walk along in rest from work, (as in rest from actual bodily labour with a mind towards self discipline), then if that person still seeks anybody to blame for their own ills, they might only find a mirror.

But here is the terror in the situation, in the self reflection in the mirror, within the pupil of the eye can be found the image of a man. Seeing him make the view seem to all the more be the fault of the person seeing. He is the Dajjal, but is also an innocent man, except in one thing alone: that upon meeting me, he tried to prove that the sequence of images of only puppet, mouth, and work rest, could be really proven to be the fault of me. What happened between us in acquaintance is not for me to acknowledge, and only his own body can know.

Whether or not this story is real I will leave to your own lives to find out.

Believe in Isa, and in Allah, for the truth will be hard.

Yet also in this world of illnesses, we can gradually awaken to how ridiculous this now will seem to us in the future in reality. Why could we be so unable to control what we want when we are holding money in our hands? I once made a jest about my name, when in Kyogle NSW in 2003, that Rebecca is like Rue Bear Kah, and just this evening, in connection with this disentangling of my own story from the lies about me which others may have imagined, I recognise that the sound accompanying the images being described had a sound alike to my name, in the place where I had been experiencing feeling to blame, but with a "d" sound also. It is illustrative that the "d" sound was eminating from an acquaintance, whom was imposed upon by the same homeopath and his wife, to adapt himself to taking upon his own nature their envy of me. That was in 1991, with me pregnant with my oldest son. The man whom introduced me to the homeopath, was not yet then a man, still a boy of about nineteen, and the words I remember him forming by will were "I don't want Becca", after his mind was questioned in respect of whether he wanted to 'tackle' managing myself as though I a kafir to his responsibility. His older sister is a friend, and over the past few years is one of two persons whom have really aided me in need by giving me money. She gave me all the money in her pocket when we met, and her act is very appreciable. (The other act of giving me any money when in need was from a Muslim man in the street whom observed me being in lack of enough self to be able to make a necessary decision, and his aid of only 60cents enabled me well enough. I will tend always to hide unaided need since my experience is of having been given material aid only as method of entrappment into a semblence of being in sin. So the instant mentioned first is truly a well minded act.)

There is one other matter I ought mention here. The moral of the story of course. It is that in all the nightmares of the Human condition which have passed through my mind for as many years as I am old, my own sustained belief has always been to never believe that any such images can be used to account for any ill in any person other than in my own mind for it having been possible to imagine such. This attitude is what will sustain reality in the dis-unifying of the world we had known, and reassembly of the matter of our Dreams into reality as we Pray for. But most importantly here it need to be noted that my three sons are all sustaining their own minds equitably in account in Allah. Such is the degree of our forbearance of antiquity.

Of this story as an allegory about the making of an allegory, what is untold is best left so, at least until there is another wrapping around this tale.


Believe

World of belief in God
Is just so not
What those whom fail it
Suppose us believers believe
God to be

Judge faith not
For belief is by definition
True to reason
In experiential conditions
So defy not
What your own life’s transitions
Have so far failed to provide of

And if you can not yet believe
In God
And every he bequeath
Then just believe in life
Being sustained by
A mysterious unity of energy
For what else is He
If not singularity
Too large for us to imagine
Too minute in action
For our detection
Too loving of our being
To let us end with existing
If only we forget momentarily
In Him need

For it is of us
Those parts
We have to have for love
In God above
Which fail to believe
In constance existing
Which are causal to existence ceasing
And yet within
The key is
That every
Perfect unity
Of Faith in Love
Of God above
Of reason
Of science and belief
Of hope to make the Earth our home a better place
Is the aspect of us
The Soul in living unity with
What will not cease
Without God recreating us
Once again
Every moment
So well we are beloved
In the face of the worst that has become of us



Was

Was he too attractive
To be talking to me
What was He believing about me
And why had he approached me
For while I tried and tried
To make him take me
As I am
Just a bit too daggy
For what he likes of his own manhood
So therefore
Thought I
Right from the start
Of our conversation
I am just not his type
As attractive as he might be
So if he will see
That I had not tried
To get him to like me
Then perhaps he might
Realise he knows not yet
What there is to like
About me
Because I was
Sitting outside in the city
Alone at night
And did not
Want
To be approached by any man
No matter how attractive
Nor matter that his mind
Beautifully intelligent
He describes and self defines
His Spirit alike
To mine
Giving no indication of why
But to my mind
Might he find
That of course I am above all too daggy
When approached on the city street at night
By a complete stranger
With a too far too sexy mind
That seems now to have adhered to mine
In love like
Just that he said to find
Unbelievable
And so had I
Until without his phone number
All I could think to was cry
And poetry aplenty write
When other work calls
Is that I once before was alright
Being the person who met him
But now am too daggy for even my self to like
So his attractive personality might
Just return his mind into
Bizarre un-kissed night
For to gently remind
An advertisement I did write
And semblance like
A public announcement
Of the well to do men's
Brothel opening night
Is that my anger is formidable
Because there at
Our parting had
I shown him what
The nights walk
Might have painted me as
And in permanence if
He is not who
Answers the ad just right
Is that was I a dag
Lacking only social regard that
Or just too fat
Because to my mind
His intensely attractive
Approach to me
Was only
Too likeable to trust
To specially pretty for love
Or was I only too ignorant of
But in his real esteem
Why the ******* made me want to scream
Of formidable endurance in ice cream
Who could but Dream
That an accident
Of our coincidence
Would have caused that between
We have found ourselves relating
Within Kiri Elaison
Bringing new meaning
To a marriage of convenience
This is the Dance




Was it of Non-believers only that this is Me

The kaffir
Though migaloo
Their name
Our language has too
And less shame
But hasnamuss those who
Seem to have sprung up amongst us
Can not believe
Themselves not originally
So are able to believe
Yet without only constance
And sadly detrimentally
To who can do them to be
Is the hasnamuss key
The kaffir not so able
To be managed well
While migaloo
Just prepared to be
Their own body
Letting our will do their wants and needs
Occasionally inhabiting
So sharing in accountability
Is this my linguistic analysis
Correct also to you
For the migaloo
Is an unusual beast
Who is gladly being proved
In Animist cultures
To want to accept
What is love’s consequence
So when it came to
Who but the migaloo
Aspiration to be
So insensitive to me
As kaffir be
So forming hasnamuss ideas
Of the reality including queers
Of potential possibility
Well what they tried to cause
To me to be
And perhaps you also
Was that they built a glass house
In their own imaginations
Fuelled of course by our own
Tricked into their beliefs
A glass house in the sky
For the minds
Of any person whom did not like
Their way to be
Of refuting time
But yet admired by them of mental capacity
As though our brains of nobility
Became baked into a great big pie
Of our own selves to eat
From which impossible it can be
To Dream at night
Without their taking a bit
Of our Human identity
And persecuting our memory
With false ideology
As though able to make us believe
We had no Islam in deed
Could not remember our own mind to read
And that whose mind
An open book to this seed
An open house
For any body who buys it
Their games of self hate
To take a look
To see what denies it
Yet in Human mentality please
For what sort of people are these
Relying upon a glass house of leaves
Dropped by the trees
Of Human wood
Knowing we should
Never forget these
And never be letting it pass
That any migaloo so much as farts
Or breaths
But the kaffir who
Have no worth in mind
Why the hasnamuss favour them to do
Us all into oblivion
For these so Human like
Whose heads are well read
Just simply don’t like
That a Human gets time to stand in
And their mind reading fees
They demand of us with no please
No thankyou
No informing
So fail us of our memory
That at any moment
We are in mind open to them
To the forgivers
Of our Humanity
And those who so did
Are as ridiculous a lid
As to have made up their dreams
From the types of commodities
That with they identified
When they decided
To turn away from Animist faith
So in a tupperware party
Arrived the containment of dreams
Combined with
A toilet and sugar show stream
With a floor and door show
Type of restrainment
The enforced upon
Those in their tupperware glass
Assuming of us
That when without
Sweets in the mouth
**** and urine coming out
Then what we leave on the floor
Or let through the door
Might be what we owe them
As though they are the only
Folk with access to any
Particle of what is in my memory
But to that tune rich
Have they stitched
Their own fanciful interpretive
Meaning
While portraying my self
As theirs for bleeding
Locked into the Tupperware shelf
Or somebody’s glass teapot
Perhaps the one with a cosy
For it shed the wool that
Maybe myself is too dozy
To have believed
In those Dreams with them
In which they train Human children
To be like them
And then seem to sell
To policemen
Off whose false interpretations
They breath in
Imposing
Yet so faulting
Only their own life
In their mysteriously
Well practised
Yet sadly poorly skilled
Timing drills
The whole electronic media
In its displacements
Of locations
Seems to have been caused so as to stabilise them
For what form of life could this
The call of a hassnamuss
That a banana in pyjamas
Came down some stairs
Only because
They imagined of me to be
Very politically
Defaming them
Which I am actually
As a consequence
Of a need to flush out their
Assumptions of me
It seems to be
Our way to know
What of us they suppose
Yet for my money
Who lives off their greed
Of managing to be
Who closed all the doors
Except that they imagined control of
Against me
Rather be in poverty
For it seems to be
The hasnamuss of course
Whom are yet obtaining money in blaming me
For no idea other than their own existences
Yet could any child have stopped them
Proving only that no child should be
Able to own and spend any money
And with that key
Just thank them
For the lesson in
Never imagining




The World Telling Me Its End

What will the world
When being Muslim became
Subjugated and defamed
In seeking truth
By Arab’s imagination
That the culture of Arabia
Is the only Islamic way
That my efforts to attain
An identity in belief to sustain
Of my own people’s place
In Islam no disgrace
Are being prevented
By Arabs insisting I need
The language of Arabia
To portray myself as a believer
While the policing of this place
Governed today by invaders
Imposed upon me
That it could be seditious
And imprison-able
To so learn to be
Able to speak in Arabic
Yet being an Aborigine of Australia
I know my own language word
Stands as well in Allah
My indigenous comprehension
Of Religion
Surpassing through ancient memory
My other schooled in keys
Which save me daily
From the police
Projecting upon me
That if it is not the sedition of
Speaking the Arabic tongue
Then indeed must it be
Seditious
To claim to be Muslim
This wing to sing from
Long sung but
We are who knew not of
Until it had begun
Among those of us
Not yet converted
Before our land was invaded
Is arisen
In decisions
Of what is the law we must deal with
What marks us ever to be Muslim
Regardless of any police diversions


Dua for this is already posted at LI, but in the poetry forum, and Ameen from myself to its beneficience

Alaykumuassalamuwaramathuallahiwarabarakathudallah Rebecca