The
surfing thing
Don
1-12-26
I
have been doing these revelatory articles to help you all understand
how I became me. Whatever that is. And this is not about Don – I
look at myself and see nothing. Nothing at all. I look to heaven and
see...everything. Everything there is to see. It's why I don't do
selfies ever. There is no vanity to serve; the servant is not a thing
to behold, only that which is served. I'm just the guy who cleans up
the horse shite in the stalls. Nothing at all. Even when someone
takes a picture of me, I am pointing to heaven. Remember what Yesh said
about the "great" John the Baptist, whom the Holy Word Himself was the
greatest prophet that ever walked the Earth? Even He, is the lowest of
the low, in Heaven. Think about that.
The
servant is nothing.
I've
always been a beach boy, so to say, since the 1980s. Long before
families and children. There is a peace, of a kind, found there and
also, in the mountains. The two places I go to all my life when I
have a few free hours. I live in the mountains now, but with it comes
drones, gang stalking, CIA, and little drama setups I have to deal
with; it's not the same. I couldn't before the 80s, because the
parental Soul Crushers never allowed anything decent or good
when I was growing up.
To help
illustrate how rotten to the core these two devils were – Tex and
Lola – in 1971 they created a square dance group – that was a
thing at the time, for a few years – called, wait for it....
THE
MUSICAL DEMONS.
No shit.
Musical Demons. That was their creation. It was Lola's idea.
Tex ran with it and he had a collection of “friends of friends”
who did and of course, they, all these friends forced their children
into it as well. They did the same thing to me, brother David, and
sister Patti Ann. It was horrible. And, of course, Tex made himself
king over it and became a square dance caller. It was horrible in the
extreme. This was the only social thing we children ever had, and it
involved a group called musical demons. I cannot tell you how
many times I was asked by members of other square groups, as a young
boy, “Why on earth is your group called musical demons?” The
number one question I was asked between 1971 and 1975, usually asked
in horror and repulsion. It was years later that I understood the
verifying depth of evil that Lola brought into our home. They only
ended it when Tex and Lola bought property out in Lake Elsinore. But
by then, I and Patti were gone, gone, gone. Thanks God.
You
cannot make this shite up.
This is
what happens when your father marries a witch. Every evil thing
befalls you and that, continuously. I've been lugging this cross
around since I was a child. Believe it. And frankly, most of that
time it was horrible. Attack after bloody attack, setups, betrayals,
the lot. ALL OF IT, I went through. Still going through. It's not fun
nor ever was. It's wading through pure evil in the valley of death
forever.
As a
young man, I was always naturally drawn to the ocean and the
mountains. And for years, every weekend, I would drive to one or the
other, depending. If the mountains, Mt Gleason in the Angeles Crest,
to walk alone among the deodars and pines, just talking to God.
Hundreds of times. Same with the Beach. Just to get centered, think
about my F'd up life and how, oh how, to fix each mess I always found
myself in, and witch women problems and that also, continuously. My
favorite beaches were Zuma, like the Neil Young record of the time,
County Line, Topanga Canyon, Rincon, Faria Beach, summerland. I never
went to, nor enjoyed those filth covered unholy beaches of Santa
Monica or Venice. Those places are evil. But that's where most
everyone goes.
So,
later, as my boys became teens, they were part of these excursions.
Took them with me. Taught the them the ways and warp and woof of
walking with Dad and Yeshua. Great years, great times. So, in 2007,
bought a surf board and never looked back – I still had my old
wetsuit, falling apart with split seams from back in the day. Within
months, by buying used equipment and used, 2nd hand wet
suits – too poor to afford our own stuff, nice – we took to the
ocean.
And
before you judge, consider this. I never allowed video games or PS
anything in my home. Three times they got from witches, as gifts,
PS2s and PS4s, and they always went into the trash. I explained these
were soul stealers and the mechanism of how its done. Because of that
and while the rest of the world was letting their children have cell
phones and xbox, I forbade it. They were in agreement. Son Nick even
was given one and when the person left the house while he was living
with his witch mother, walked it to the trash and put that satanic
vector into the trash his very own self. My joy upon hearing that
cannot be described. Trisha always bought them cell phones, always. I
didn't allow them until they turned 16. But witches are persistent,
are they not? Every smart/slave phone my sons ever had, they got from
her as gifts. Of course.
I had to
replace that time with Dad's Great Cathedrals – the mountains and
the oceans. So I did. And never looked back. So, every weekend and
every other day over summer and winter school breaks, to the
mountains for miles long hikes or the beach for surfing. Does that
make me a great father? Hardly. It's loving your family before
yourself that does that. I do and did, but also, had to create
realities that stood outside the beast system.
But
that's not the best part.
We had
and still have, at least I do, a thing when at the beach. We would
gather, right off, and say Dad's Prayer – our Father, who art in
Heaven.... We would suit up and while we all paddled out to the line
up – an invisible line in the ocean behind the swell sets – we
would say it. Once we got “outside”, and at the line, we would
gather together to face either the deep sea or the cliffs of our surf
spot, Faria Beach, and do it as a group. We would then bless the sky,
the water, the dolphins that came up to hang with us. We did this
every single time we paddled out. For years. Between 2007 and 2022,
when I moved away from the Great Sea of Earth. They boys stopped
surfing around 2016. Not I.
We
used to have this giggle joke amongst ourselves. Whenever one of us
would wipe out – being thrown off your board and into the washing
machine of death (yeah, you can DIE out there and DROWN) – we used
to call out, “Did you see that! Some baby dolphin came up and
kicked his ass!” Big laugh by all. In the best of the spirit of the
thing. Baby dolphin kicking my ass...again!
That was
the best part. We would always include Dad and any water or sky
angels in our daily doings. It was and is, wonderful.
That is
the surfing thing. That's what made it something more than a sport
and a thing for growing sons to do. It was about bringing Almighty
YHVH and Heaven in OUR DAILY WALK.
I
consider those years, the best He's ever given me. Everything before
or since has been abject misery and shite. Fact. I miss it dearly.
That's
surfing to me. No drugs, no sluts...just dad, Yesh, and the spirits
of the Great Sea and Sky and Earth. Living, breathing, loving,
realities. As I've proved exist. That ground under your feet lives
and cries out.
“When
oh when will you punish those that do wickedly upon me?”
When you
hear them cry that out the very first time, you cry with them. It's
that soul harsh. Even now, my heart breaks with them, writing these
words.
Don
See those islands in the distance? Yeah, those ones, the Anacapa
Islands. They are 22 miles away from Surfer's Point. On a clear day, you
can see the sand on the beaches. Something that should be impossible on
a ball Earth. They should be invisible under 30 feet of curvature.
Fact. And with binoculars, you can the people on the beaches over there.
Another thing that should be impossible, if you believe the lying liars
of this jewbie satanic world.
