Heavenly flowers, great coffee and the Iron Will of Archai Michaél

Nothing else will get us through

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21 December. Winter Solstice.

Today is my seventy fifth birthday. Yay!

I'm totally excited to be alive.

Before I begin I want to pay tribute to my lovely wife back home in Marin. Even though she doesn't agree with me and doesn't like to know about the dark side of politics, I couldn't do without her love and support.

On this auspicious occasion I ask for your indulgence through this and the next few stacks as I get a little personal and share details of my life in Oaxaca.

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As always the Kionist mission is to remove the Anglo-American Ruling Classes and their deadly grip over world evolution. Equally important is the work of creating a beautiful vision for what follows after, all of which is contained in the Diamond Sutra of Revelation.

I also like to have fun along the way and to stop and smell the flowers, both literally and also in the sense of connecting with all the beautiful people I meet along the way, including you guys who read this. Though I don't know you all, we are fire-friends in the great spirit of the loving sky gods.

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My job is to make Evil fun.

Well, among other things. (Any musicians out there who want to jam?)

I've always said we have to work with Geheimerstaatsréal. (Secret State Reality; German is much more authoritative.) While it means much the same as Deep State, Geheimerstaatsréal includes the dark realities of occult power control by the elites, along with their endless brutalismo of boots on the ground.

Let me remind you of Paul Craig Roberts—I posted an article of his a few stacks ago—who is one of the many authors I read as often as possible. Along with a firm grasp of what he would call the Deep State, Paul Craig Roberts is an expert on Russian Tristory (true history.) The ex-treasury head under President Reagan red pilled at some point and, mixing his old Beltway connections with his new found conspiracy realism, puts out a highly informative blog which is often reposted on Global Research. I find his insights to be essential reading. In some ways PCR is more authoritative than Scott Ritter and Colonel MacGregor on the Russia Ukraine war. Or rather he offers a more critical insight into President Putin's military strategy. Paul Craig Roberts' blogs are a model in precise, authoritative brevity and I learn a lot from reading them. But even though I really enjoy reading them—because truth is always satisfying—at the same time they are not fun.

The same is true of all the other blogs, stacks and reports I read. Kudos to Richard Gage for the warm Christmas greetings email he just sent; and to the always fiery Caitlin for her great poems, but, as most of you guys know, keeping up with the gorystory can be a little grim at times. Marin Grin writes that he/she has to take time out for several days to recharge emotional batteries.

Paul Craig Roberts can tell us the What Is. But he is not having fun. Reading between the lines one can feel the forbearance of a brave soul resolutely struggling on without any great hope for the future.

I would respectfully opine that they who have the most fun, win.

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If you wind your way through the Great Truth Bazaar and come across the Fearless Arts Truth Café, the first thing you'll notice is the gorgeous flowers. Persephone delivers them fresh every day. Linger for a moment and allow the heavenly scent to move you to a beauty beyond.

The Fearless Arts Only Way Café is only one more Only Way among the ten thousand Only Ways full of amazing insights and expertise in the Great Bazaar of Truth.

Amongst this great school of knowledge, allow me to promote my own insights, dreams and prophecy. Along with the cosy and welcoming atmosphere of my sweet little Fearless Art Coffee Shop that waits for you at the end of the rainbow.

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~~oo~~OO~~OO~~OO~~oo~~

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I'm writing this in Pan Boulnec, Barrio de Jalatlaco. Look at the flowers. Aren't they beautiful?

I take my coffee shops seriously. I discovered this one this morning when I went to buy wine for tomorrow's turkey feast at the hostel where I'm staying. I took a quick look and the vibe said Sí, Sí, Sí ¡Pasen!

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Other than great coffee, a good coffee shop stands or falls by its feng shui.

As my wife will attest, I regard myself as an expert at spotting a good coffee shop. The Yes-No, shall I, shan't I? comes in a nanosecond. The vibe hits you. A quick glance at the espresso machine. The fact that they sell own-brand coffee beans is always a good sign. Is it clean? What's the smell like? Tables that have just been wiped with clorox-smelling cloths is an instant turnoff. Comfort. Is it warm? I always like a sofa in the corner and soft seats are a plus. Tastefully arranged potted plants are guaranteed to quietly uplift the spirit of inspiration. And flowers. Even if only dried and tastefully arranged in a small glass vase, their quiet whisper always speaks to me.

Most cafés understand that music is important and enhances the experience of their clients, especially if like me you go in to spend hours writing. I suspect there is a website catering to easy listening café music with YouTube selections for what to play and when. Right now they've got some nice sax and piano riffs humming along which suits my mood.

I like the staff to be attentive, friendly and—I'll probably get into trouble but—young and attractive. And sparky. Show me sass, life, vitality; goes with the coffee, no? If I walked into a place full of elders like me I'd probably give it a miss. (My spark is in my writing.) And, let's face it, regarding young staff, café owners probably think the same way, but would never admit it. After all, cafés are probably one of the few places (talking about) my generation can get to look at the beauty of our own lost youth. (Correction. Lost youth? Beauty never dies—it goes within. Eat a raison if you don't believe me.) My son is flipping out—Dad, get to the point. Okay, I'm on it. Décor.

The thousand nuances of interior design. Allow for the contradiction, but I'm a fan of the uber-yuppie sub-global urbanimso full of trendy co-working thirty-somethings earnestly emanating purpose (they're probably coding for Elon Musk, but let that pass) which is what you get in San Francisco. Yes, purpose. A café with a floppy vibe doesn't work for me.

Outside of the Bay Area, walking into the smooth contours of pine wood and Nordic functionalism is always pleasing. But all this is generalisation. I've been to many great cafés where the décor is as unique as the owner or artist who created it. The smell of good coffee, the gemütlichkeit, the alpaca-like feng shui that wraps itself around you like a warm shawl and then the first glorious sip of jump-up roasted goat-bean brewing up the outrageous can-do snap of synapse jacks blow torching the first fiery stir of derring-do as Ethiopé holds you in her arms and whispers Airy Nothing into the audacious yearning of your wildest dreams.

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You should expect nothing less from Fearless Arts Café.

My New Year's resolution is to make Fearless Arts Café the best little rainbow café in Great Truth Bazaar.

Rudolf Steiner is going to be the barista. Persephone is in charge of flowers, décor and feng shui. The great coffee dessa Ethiopé is sending a team of gorgeous Nubian Naiads to wait and bring coffee to the tables.

If you like the style of my magic brew bar, then come on into the Fearless Arts Café. The coffee is ready and some gorgeous angels are waiting to serve you.

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~~oo~~OO~~OO~~OO~~oo~~

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Today I'm seventy five.

I'm crusty. I'm scarred. I've got piss on my boots because the wind kept changing. I've won and lost women. I've betrayed and I've been betrayed. I've been reviled and trivialised. I've stared down the belittling of a thousand clever-dicks who have far less love, vision and talent than I have. I've got grey hair on my balls and sometimes I have to use a little yellow pill to keep my wife happy. Public school was a shit storm. I turned my traumas into little stones and placed them in a circle at the bottom of the garden for the gnomes to sit on. I'm over the wilful ignorance of the educated middle classes. And I'm tired of being told what to do, especially by my son who always tells me that Only Way is a turn off. (Not that he shouldn't keep up his comments which are always welcome. He'll just have to live with One Way.)

I'm seventy five and I survived. I don't care any more.

I am going to utter prophecy.

I'm going to spit out fire and wrath for as long as it takes to remove the Anglo-American Ruling Classes.

Of course I could use a little help.

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After two years of Substack posts I'm going to share a little secret.

Prophetic will lies behind the meaning of 'Kion'.

Try saying 'Michael Iron' a few times. As you do, listen to the connective sound between the words. With a bit of compression, what comes out is 'kion'.

The meaning of Kion is Michael-Iron.

Everything I write is dedicated to the Iron Will of Archangel Michaél. The Kionist Manifesto and the Kionist Magicfesto is a journey through Airy Nothing into great Archai's vision for the future of mankind.

We will either have the Eighth Sphere or we will have the Time of Michaél.

I prefer the latter.

Nothing else will get us through.

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Love and blessings

Steve

~~oo~~OO~~OO~~OO~~oo~~

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PS Due to festive distractions and numerous drafts—I get very nervous about my writing sometimes—it took a few days to post this. Happy Christmas y Feliz Navidad!!!

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