It goes without saying: wisdom comes with time, experience, and age. An aching in the heart for absolute truth to prevail. A desire for conscience-shaking, purging, and cleansing. Why? Because humanity is overdue for it and is wired for it, whether we acknowledge it or not.

I recently revamped and refreshed my MuSinGer blog, reviewing past articles for mistakes, broken links, and general maintenance – an ongoing task. But also partly because of the probability that I will be unable to log into my favourite social media platforms (namely, X – although it has been a bit of a love-hate relationship) due to the Australian Government’s under 16s social media ban commencing in December 2025 (see also https://humanrights.gov.au/about/news/proposed-social-media-ban-under-16s-australia). I am hoping for some way to remain on that platform but time will tell (where are the lawyers, privacy, and information access rights advocates??). So, here I am trying to find a way to keep my voice from being shut down yet again in my ever-shrinking world.

Back to my blog spruce up…

During this process, to my deep horror, I was reminded of what I wrote during the dark behemoth that was the ‘pandemic’ in 2020-2022 which – at its height – enveloped me and my city, state, and country. Australia. The ‘Lucky Country’. Hang on a minute, did I just say “enveloped me”? Yep, you read correctly.

I’d like to say that I was one of those fearless warriors who just knew from the very beginning that the ‘pandemic’, etc. was a deep fake. I’m no stranger to intuition – gut feelings – and while I did have an inkling that something was terribly off from March 2020 (“why weren’t they offering alternative medicines, treatments, and natural therapies” I wondered with furrowed brow), I was busy singing at my church, rehearsing (a lot of work), and listening to choir members joke about toilet paper and Corona beer. So I turned to feverishly writing more blog articles throughout six lockdowns in my state. I had, in fact, already started the MuSinGer blog beforehand in 2018, writing benign posts that year and into 2019. Article titles such as:

Welcome to The MuSinGer
Only 3 Cherries
Why music and singing are important
A book is your best buddy
May the baby Jesus bless you
… and more.

Cute eh?

In March 2019 I joined Twitter (as it was back then), linking my MuSinGer presence to that platform, posting my articles but not interacting much at all. (Ironically, X is currently experiencing desktop login issues so I am using this time wisely 😊).

Come 2020 I gradually started using the blog to express my experiences, thoughts, and concerns about what I was personally encountering, observing, and feeling in my inner and outer world, but to my shame I can now see that fear also crept into my phrases about ‘the virus’, hygiene, death count, and general uncertainty. Now I simply cannot stand reading that, so decided to remove some of those articles and keep them as a private record, deleting or rephrasing other vomit-inducing words from that time, or putting the word ‘pandemic’ in quotes. I may have kept one or two others (forgive me if you see those). While some may say I should have left all of these articles intact as they document my journey over time, I can’t do it. It makes me sick. It is not so much about wiping out history or evidence of what I initially thought, but I abhor the horror of that period and how it ruined my pre-2020 life – and many lives worldwide – turning everything upside down. It is in no way who I am.

On and off throughout 2020 and 2021 I was reluctantly wearing a mask outdoors, in the supermarket, and also grudgingly while singing in my church choir, even though I was quietly railing against it and suffocating like a desperate panting animal. I absolutely hated it. So yes, I complied for a time. The choir socially distanced. We used gross sanitizer. We told the congregation to wear masks. The religious were quietly speaking in anxious tones, gasping about ‘Covid-19’ death tolls overseas. They were doing the elbow ‘handshake’ but I did not; I despised the elbow bump. It was dorky and weird. I smiled at them, but started to harden inside. “What’s going on here?”, I asked myself. Godly? Not at all. We continued singing “Be Not Afraid” as we stood in a cavernous, deserted church lacking human warmth, throwing out notes through our muzzled mouths above rows of mostly empty pews. Oh, but thank God we were permitted to remove our masks while cantoring, because the virus apparently knew when to attack and when to let us be.

I saw people coming to church in the cold be turned away at the door because we had filled our permitted quota (congregation numbers were capped at pathetic numbers), and those who had booked in for Mass had to sign in on a flimsy sheet of paper just to receive the Sacraments and worship God. I felt appalled, but soldiered on, singing uplifting hymns with a lump in my throat and a demonic cloud hovering in the air. It was the oddest, most insane experience.

I complained about what was happening during spiritual activities with the religious via Zoom, only to be met with silence and unemotional faces staring through the screen. During the Sacrament of Confession some time afterwards at another church (I was vax mandated out of my home church after serving as a volunteer in music for over twenty years) a young masked and gloved priest yelled at me in the context of discussing Covid happenings. I never returned to Confession there again.

People in Victoria (the worst Australian state of all during that time) were pounded with daily press conferences about ‘case numbers’ and the rolling ‘Covid-19’ death toll. Scowling, finger-wagging ‘leaders’ in all of their arrogant glory, together with the compliant mainstream media, were constantly lambasting the public, chastising us for daring to venture out seeking the company of loved ones, innocently walking in a public park, and watching the sunset, while closing and taping off playgrounds as if they were crime scenes. Churches obeyed the diktats of the day, closing their doors on a spiritually and mentally exhausted population who they should have welcomed and comforted with open arms regardless of their medical status.

As a Victorian (only people in my state would understand, except for perhaps those in Canada, California, New York, or Wuhan) under relentlessly dictatorial conditions, we were fined (or threatened to be), put under strict curfews, only permitted to travel a certain distance, shamed and excluded if unvaccinated, and so on. At the height of the madness, protesters in Melbourne’s city streets were shot with rubber bullets. Melbourne became a battleground the likes of which we had not seen before. Earlier that same morning on 22 September 2021 one of the state’s strongest earthquakes was recorded. As the house walls shook, I literally called upon God to save us, certain that our state was facing its Judgement Day.  For a moment it felt apocalyptic and Biblical. Many people then and since have left the state.

Now, despite a veneer of ‘normality’, Melbourne has never returned to what she was. I had worked in the city for many years and recall lunch break walks through pretty parks and vibrant laneways filled with happy and smartly dressed people. Now a pall of shameful depression lingers over the city, like a sullen, jilted Miss Havisham. I don’t blame Melbourne itself, but she has been badly damaged by those who made deplorable, evil decisions for her and betrayed her once-lively spirit.

Then, came THAT moment:

Lead, Kindly Light

“Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th’encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.”

– Hymn by John Bacchus Dykes (words by John Henry Newman)

A light bulb moment.

It came on one cold Sunday morning between one of the lockdowns, when we were permitted to return to church. I was setting up for our choir and overheard a member of the religious talking to a fellow choir member about the rising Covid-19 death toll in a European nation. The church was vacant but for the three of us. The quietness of the surroundings seemed to amplify the dread in her voice which began to crescendo and resonate around the vast space. My body suddenly and abruptly spun around and I froze on the spot. I could not move. I just stared at this person and her petrified expression and for a moment time seemed to stand still. I saw alarm on her face; it is etched into my memory. A light bulb literally switched ON in my mind, exactly like you see in the cartoons. I blurted out “hang on a minute, this is all based on fear – it’s all fear” but no one paid any attention to what I was saying. The words popped out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying. I felt exposed and strange, almost like an out-of-body experience.

Everything – all of my innate suspicions, nudgings, and intuitions – were instantly confirmed. I felt an inner shift and release. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was all a horrendous lie and the masses were being manipulated including, to my dismay, church people.

While I had already started some investigations, from then on I dove deeper into my own research, ravenously and relentlessly looking up anything I could find and sharing it where I could to help wake up others. I felt like God was using my background in information management and librarianship to the max. I was always good at finding things, whether great sheet music or whatever. In the beginning I only found five videos in the alternative media revealing the ugly emerging truth. Thanks to the gargantuan efforts and sacrifices of freedom doctors like Dr Vladimir Zelenko and Dr Sucharit Bhakdi (particularly in this interview on ‘The Ingraham Angle’ on Fox, 2 Dec 2020) – to name very few others at the time – that light bulb was pulsing even brighter.

Once you know, it is eyes wide open. When tectonic plates shift, they never return to the same place.

The graces flowed in new ways. Finding like-minded people on social media solidified my suspicions. I was grateful to discover that I was not the only one feeling this, nor was I going crazy, as I interacted with a growing number of kindred souls on X (formerly Twitter). I read and listened to their stories worldwide.

I also connected with three other musicians on Twitter/X who had been mandated out or otherwise coerced to leave their churches for being unvaccinated or who refused to comply in other ways. I instantly felt drawn to them. To this day I am grateful for finding them and still follow their posts. I have a soft spot for them and trust them more than people I had known for years who turned their backs on me. Now that the social media I relied on is about to be restricted for Australians as mentioned earlier, I do not know what the future holds.

While everything has changed, I still have my faith. I lost all of the church ‘friends’ I thought I had. Like everyone else who realises the truth of what happened to us – and is still happening – I have tried to keep my pre-2020 skills and talents alive. It is a daily battle, but I savour the small blessings and will never – ever – see the world the same way again. I do not trust as easily any more, but all is in God’s hands. May healing, justice, and renewal come soon.

Can you relate? What is your story if you wish to share?

Image Credit: Pixabay.com