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.
