For the Love of God

Light fills the void.

Spring is rolling in with the dawn; slowly, bits of green dot the heartbroken black as God stretches out His massive, worn, hands that are dirty with clay.

He paints the canvas afresh with life.

I feel the time pass around me, can almost hear the squeaking and whining of earth’s hinges like an ancient roller coaster ride begging to be retired.

God: made for an art class in college via Photoshop

I look at my son and wonder at the time; how is he one year old already?

This life passes by in one day.

Yesterday we brought him home and I can only remember the bliss, not the pain.

Today is he working so hard in the garden, digging in the soil with sticks, face covered in black mulch.

This new purpose in life through my child has me greedy for more.

Before him, I couldn’t wait for it end. I longed for old age, to fast forward through the really hard bits of life.

Now, it’s not enough; we just don’t have enough days.

I needed him so badly, I needed him yesterday.

I knew, even as a child that once I had my own baby, I would more fully understand the way God loves humanity.

It goes against all of my mothering instincts to even consider sacrificing my child for the good of mankind.

The story of the crucifixion is the most gut-wrenching, profound stories out of all the gods’ legends.

For God to humble Himself so low and place Himself amongst His monstrous creations, to allow Himself to be viciously tortured and then to be killed in the most agonizing way in order to save the very people who murdered Him.

And He knew it would happen his whole life but still did it because He was/is made out of the purest love that is nearly impossible to fathom.

That’s a parent’s love. I would die for my son, no questions, no hesitation. That’s agape love.

I feel a pure type of greed take over me sometimes when I look at my son. I want to absorb him, just pick him up, turn his opacity down to 50% and place him at the center of me where he will be safe and sound.

Maybe that initial impulse we mothers have to consume our children back into us is because we fear for their lives.

Maybe if we swallowed them back into the formless black, they would be safe from pain and from death.

But I am aware these are thoughts dictated by fear and baseless distrust of our Great Divine Creator. I am just pointing out the shadow.

I am bowing down

To Thee I put my trust, Lord

Save me from myself

More than any of that, I want to stare deeply into his blue eyes for a lifetime and swim in the waters of his precious soul. Once curled up within my blood and bones, for nine months his soul sailed next to mine like they were two kites caught up together in a breeze, intertwined.

Did you know that upon conception, a burst of light occurs right as the sperm burrows into the egg, like a tiny Big Bang? It’s a burst of zinc that causes the little gleam.

Creating life is like a cosmic orgasm.

I remember feeling a jolt of electricity in my right ovary the second Isaac was conceived. And even though people say it’s impossible to know, if you are in tune with your body and pay enough attention, you can sense it. My grandmother said she knew the instant she was pregnant with her first child who sadly passed soon after he was born.

It was like my eyes had rolled back into my skull and I could see what was going on inside my body. Immediately after I felt the warm little shock, I felt different, though it was subtle at first it grew with my pregnancy.

There’s way too much proof for God, the Divine Creator, the “Rhino Designer”.

The body of Christ

Eat, I will tell you my tale

Consume me like fire

From the River to The Sea

To live on earth right now and not occasionally have a panic attack over the state of things doesn’t feel like a possibility.

It feels as though we have become accustomed to fear and anxiety in today’s high-tech world.

Many times I open Instagram and the first little box that pops up on my screen is a dead baby with its head blown clean off, an emaciated child, or a grandpa with his legs buried somewhere deep under the rubble of his home in Gaza.

These are the images I see day after day for the past five months.

October 7th, 2023 happened and then the Solar eclipse was one week later. I was sitting on the couch in our living room waiting for Isaac to wake up so we could go and see the moon pass over the sun at a local gallery.

I opened Instagram and someone had sent me a video of a Palestinian reporter Motaz Azaiza holding the corpse of a dead baby around Isaac’s age in the back of an ambulance.

I instantly began to audibly sob. Tears streamed down my face and I had to go wake up my own baby to hold him and kiss his face. I couldn’t believe I was seeing this happen in real time.

Ever since I had Isaac, my empathy for others (that already seemed to be very excessive) turned up to one million.

Every day after October 7th, I’ve seen all types of gore. There are so many ways for a human being to suffer. I see the face of my child on the face of each dead or dying child I see on my phone screen.

I don’t shut it off because they can’t. How is it my right to look away?

But I’ve learned how to dissociate very well and that’s just natural. I’ve become desensitized to it.

Except for the times when right below that video of a little girl weeping for her dead family is an ad for a couch. It makes me feel itchy all over.

Watching a genocide happen in real time on your phone- it goes without saying that this all feels like a prophecy come to fruition and I don’t mean Biblically, although...

Many fights have ensued between me and my mother about politics and religion, where we used to agree we are no longer able.

My parents were a little too into fascinated by "the end times" growing up. I fully understand why people get so caught up in it to the point of thinking God gave them a vision.

When I was twenty, I remember the first time my brain ever thought: what if I am God? What if I am the reincarnation of Christ?

Isn’t that wild? I was self aware enough and in my newly-enlightened-Christian-era so I immediately took a step back and thought, what the hell was that? Do I think I’m a cult leader? Turns out, those are just intrusive, narcissistic thoughts.

It was after my encounter with God on top of a mountain overlooking Los Angeles California in a very rare rainstorm.

My mom is thoroughly brainwashed. It was insane that just a month prior to the "war" in Gaza, we were talking about how the end of the world must be coming soon because of how I had been feeling this type shift in the matrix

Talking like that with her makes me feel close to her, especially now that we no longer share the same type of religion. Now we no longer have these things to discuss because no matter how much I hate displeasing my parents, I have to do what I feel is right.

I woke up after October 7th. I felt the Protestant/Evangelical bullshit that had been downloaded into my brain glitch and malfunction. It took weeks of grief and processing to come to terms that our country was actively funding a genocide. I still have so much re-educating to do.

Seeing a genocide happen in real time, AI getting more powerful- all of it has got me feeling a little schizo.

Our world is fucked. Our nation isn’t run by human beings but something else entirely.

The future is here. The moment we’ve all been preparing for after the industrial revolution: Behold! The Tesla Truck!

A few days ago, I saw an old infomercial and thought it was AI. I stared at the old woman selling the product; in some shots her arm warped and shrank a bit, like in that dreamy AI type of way.

I opened the comments and apparently it was a REAL ad from the 90’s.

My brain had made the body warp happen, making it legit feel like I was losing my mind. I had to sort of shake off the eeriness.

I never would have guessed that so many of the science fiction movies I love would be so spot on.

Don’t even get me started on 2001, a Space Odyssey; what a modern miracle that film is.

When I was eleven or twelve, I became obsessed with the movie The Godless Girl 1928 by Cecil B. Demille .

It was about two high school students battling over leadership at their school. The girl was an atheist and the boy was a Christian and they both had the school split into those two factions, constantly battling over what was true.

A school fight ensued causing the death of one female student. Both the boy and the girl (they weren’t given names) end up in prison together, mature as people, and fall in love with each other trying to escape.

The film is a social commentary on morals as well the corrupt prison system.

At the end, the boy is considering atheism but the girl has now found God.

YAH-WEH

The sound of air entering and leaving your lungs. The breath of life.

I was born, delivered into God’s own two hands and He’s had me in a chokehold since that very day.

A huge part of that is my extremely religious upbringing.

God was love, God was hate, but I never knew Him to be indifferent.

Perhaps there was a time I felt He didn’t care, maybe even a time I felt He wasn’t real, but those doubts never last too long.

God was my only comfort in moments I couldn’t rely on my mother and comfort from my father was rare.

I remember going to a church lock-in when I was eight or nine. A young evangelizing theater troop of older teenagers were staying the night and they put on a play for us kids. I remember it so vividly.

There were two young men and it was implied that one man was in his house and the other man wanted to come into the house. The man outside was supposed to be Jesus Christ.

The man inside was making a bunch of excuses as to why Jesus couldn’t come into his house, like porn and cigarettes… Once he was done with those things, he would let Jesus into his house.

Dude never said a word, just stood there waiting to be let in. The sinner got increasingly frustrated and finally became enraged at Jesus for condemning him, though he had said nothing for the entire skit.

Then he just straight up crucified Him after that, and when he shoved imaginary nails into his palms, Jesus screamed and I immediately started audibly sobbing. I caught the actors look of alarm at me before I buried my face in my mom’s lap and cried. I was a kidddddddddd lol

The message hit me incredibly hard, and even though retelling it now kind of makes me laugh and cringe, but it was a huge part of my early Christian experience. I was so young and I started wanting to be a missionary after that.

Man, I wanted to be a missionary/director/princess/singer so badly.

I was extremely sheltered, as I’ve stated before. Honestly, I’ve gone back and forth on how I feel about my sheltered existence. Sometimes I feel so much shame for it but much more often I feel grateful for having the environment that encouraged a lot of self reflection, spirituality, and vulnerability.

Instead of being in classrooms all day, I was hiking the creek with my chihuahua, climbing all the trees, writing, and playing music on the family piano.

Sure, learning how to be a functioning member of society was a struggle, but the more people I got to know, I figured out that everyone, no matter what, has baggage from their childhood, some people just have way more than others.

In relationships with other people, we have a tendency to beat one another with our baggage until we accept healing which also means embracing pain and discomfort.

I am going to add this just because of some of my recent content:

I’m sure I have come off as whiny in the past when talking about my parent’s fuck-ups but that’s not my intention. I am simply retelling my history; I am still extremely close with my mom. My dad and I are still learning how to communicate in a healthy way, which many times has to be silence. I am practicing stoicism as much as I am able.

Walking the tightrope

Betwixt good and bad, those two

I don’t have rhythm

I’m not saying homeschooling and sheltering your kids to the extreme is the way to go, but I am fully aware that my parents aren’t evil and that they had zero resources for their mental health. Additionally, they had it way worse than we did, so at least some generational trauma got cleared.

I’ve known for a long time that I exist to clear it even more.

Someday, it will be my turn to be the matriarch of my family and I intend to do a good job.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been sensitive to touch, sounds, and energy. My skin gets irritated very easily, my mom used to always call me The Princess and The Pea which I hated because I always felt like it sounded like The Princess and The Pee.

I have a theory that if you have sensitive skin, you might be a sensitive soul as well. I do believe I have a sort of sixth sense.

I’ve rarely seen the supernatural, but heard and felt it many times.

I think I can pinpoint exactly when consciousness hit me as a child. I’ve always had this vivid memory since I was around four or five; it’s my earliest memory.

I was asleep and having a dream that I was looking down at my body. I saw the top of my little, brown mullet/bowl cut and I was walking in a green field, almost like in a video game. I was just walking and it was peaceful; I didn’t feel a thing was wrong.

I suddenly knew that I was dreaming and tried to wake up but I couldn’t. I was still flying over my body in the field.

I have always held on to the image of that dream, the greenness of it. Even though I couldn’t make myself wake up, something beyond me helped me not to panic. I even felt a sense of peace.

I woke up suddenly to the morning light in my pink room and my head was suddenly filled with almost completely audible voices. All of them were philosophical questions about life, what was it about, why I was I here, where do we go when it’s over? All of the questions overlapped over one another for several minutes, each second new questions popped up. I didn’t even understand what they meant. The voices rose into a crescendo as if they were being downloaded into my psyche at rapid speed. I laid there and just stared out from my bed and waited for the thoughts to settle down. It was as if I instinctively knew that letting it pass was exactly what I was supposed to do.

The thoughts eventually settled into the long, bumpy train that is now my thinking brain. Lots of loud, overlapping thoughts skipping in and out, making it difficult to properly focus. That's the sound of my brain.

Children are born with tender insight! We can learn so much from them that we have forgotten; we need to remember now more than ever. Listen to your kids and learn to read between-the-lines. Not everything is as they appear.

I’ve had that crazy memory my whole life and I remember it so very vividly, which blows me away. Why do our brains hold on so tightly to certain memories? Obviously we think they’re important enough to keep and I always find that there is something I need from certain old memories in order to help me in my current chapter of life.

Kid’s brains are very psychedelic and more connected to the spirit world, in my opinion.

Spiritual sensitivity is something we all have to some degree and it’s up to us to access it fully and fine tune it. God is always waiting for us to encounter Him, we just tend to run and hide in our nakedness like the pot leaping away from the potter’s reaching fingers and smashing itself unto the ground, shattering.

In my life, I have had a few supernatural experiences and when I think back on them, how horrifying some of those experiences were, I could never doubt that God and the Spiritual realm exists even if I wanted to. I have had to learn how to remove evil spirits from spaces I’ve lived in that were tormenting all who lived there, knocking things off a shelves and almost pulling me out of bed.

When I was nineteen and staying over night in Vancouver, I had my second dealing with sleep paralysis and this time it wasn’t a peaceful experience. I felt as if someone was pushing down on my head. There was an incredibly loud whooshing noise and intense pressure that was bearing down on my skull. The sound felt like it was passing in-between my ears.

I tried to move my body but had no access to it. After a few horrible minutes, it stopped and I laid there on my cot on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I instantly knew that it was demonic.

Maybe I’ll write about the rest of my scary stories some day.

As far back as I can remember, I could always sense the undercurrent of energy in most situations. I can sort of feel out what might be going on underneath the surface and I’m usually pretty spot on. Call it discernment, call it hyper vigilance, all I know is I have become an expert people reader. I have always thought people to be so profoundly fascinating yet intimidating and I have studied them intimately for years now, mostly to try and gain insight on how my own brain worked.

Maybe lots of people feel that way or my obsession with reading people came from a place of feeling isolated from regular society for a large chunk of my Earth-tethered journey.

I think where I get bogged down is treating everyone as if they’re apart from me, when really we all one, the human race is a family, all of us are images of Christ.

Magic

The first time I did Psilocybin (magic) mushrooms, I became aware of many things, but the most crucial was my self-awareness. If you have done psychedelics or have researched the universal experience of them, you will know that one key lesson we take from them is the awareness that everything in this world is connected.

It sounds obvious but this is a breakthrough that typically comes with ego death, which can be very terrifying let liberating (and you don’t have to do drugs in order to have one).

I took about four or five little mushrooms and about an hour later, my eyes looked completely black because my pupils were so dilated. I was slipping into a feeling of pure wonder and love.

I left the crowd of people in the living room and went out onto the balcony of the apartment.

The grass below had turned a turquoise hue, swaying gently in geometric patterns.

The wood on the door became the essence of a wise old Native American chief, whom I caressed and whispered words of love to.

Lights glowed brighter, color everywhere looked like it did when I was a child: more vibrant and radiant. Everything pulsed infinitely within rainbow colored formations.

After the initial discomfort of the ego death hit, after I had cried into my knees on the floor for a little while, I looked around and felt I was one with this life, not separate from it. My actions mattered, I was an important part of the world and this world is so deep because it has many layers and dimensions.

And I felt deep, fathomless love for all human beings and all life in general. I knew God was holding the fabric of our world together, I felt His love because His love is in everything we see.

“Only God, and Infinity, deserve capital letters.” - eden ahbez

Towards the end of my trip, it was nighttime and I had wandered outside. The Washington sky was cloudless and filled filled with stars; there must have been a meteor shower going on. It was perfect. I laid in that soft, turquoise grass and watched the stars tear across the sky, leaving behind trails of rainbow dust… I beamed and clapped my hands like a child and just praised God. This was a gift for me.

Everything was all for me. God was putting on a show because He loves me.

I did mushrooms a few days later and had just as much of a wonderful experience, though I don’t remember as much about that trip except for when I bonded with a chair.

The kitchen chair in our apartment had buttons that looked like a smiling face and only after I was high on shrooms did I even notice that.

I laid on the floor next to it and stroked it legs.

“Thank you for being a chair and for holding me all the time,” I said.

It’s smile got wider, seriously, the smile spread near to grinning.

I remember that interaction most of all from that experience. Never would I have imagined in my wildest dreams that a chair and I would share an such a intimate moment between friends.

I never did shrooms again. I gleaned what I needed from them at the time and didn’t feel the need to repeat. They were intense but glorious trips. A lot of it I don’t even remember but I know it helped with my spiritual awareness and prepped me for everything that was going to happen in the future.

It makes sense that people are now discovering that small doses aid in depression.

I always felt grateful for those shrooms, though there came a time when I shunned all drugs because I would completely lose control at one point in my life and I blamed the drugs and alcohol for existing (for me to abuse.)

Now I look back and I see clearly how depressed I was and how much denial I was in about it.

I believe God gave us everything we needed right here on Earth. But don’t misunderstand me!!!! I think modern medicine is a miracle and clearly it is needed in the hospitals and nursing homes (bruh, if I get really old, give me so much heroin)

I believe God gave us natural drugs from the earth not for us to abuse, but to aid us with both physical and spiritual ailments. The mind gets sick just as much as the body. The only difference is that the mind has the ability to kill the body, the body has no sentience.

The mind is sacred because it can not die.

We must have respect for the herbs of the earth that help us humans medicinally. To abuse any substance is hurting both mind and body.

However, it’s hard not to abuse substances when you want to die. You chase after substances in an effort to save your mind, save your mind from the grueling thoughts that grind severely against your cerebrum.

Only to find that in the morning, when your blood has cleaned itself, the pain you wanted to save yourself from is waiting for you double fold, having brought along friends.

When you are older and have kids, you finally realize that you need to like yourself in order to survive day to day and you’ve been running from yourself for years, and it’s useless; you were never in control and you never will be. You have just wasted so much time and energy self sabotaging, believing you deserve to suffer to death though you cannot tolerate the flames that this thinking breathes into your psyche.

So you begin to run towards yourself, arms outstretched, no longer ashamed of who you are.

Every you at every age deserved unconditional love and respect, not welts on your little ass.

Embrace the labor pains of life with the knowledge that the harvest will be worth all the blood.

Remember that vast sky full of magic shooting stars, your first kiss in that grimy gay bar in West Hollywood; remember the times you heard the voice of God so clearly like a whisper in your ear, and don’t forget the times you caused someone else deep pain on purpose. You are capable of both great good and evil.

Life is the grandest adventure. Stop regretting all of your mistakes or resenting others for making mistakes. Repent constantly but then let it go, for the love of God.

Whenever you feel like your chest might burst open with happiness and light, remember that everything that has ever happened so far, good and bad, have all brought you to this delicious moment in time.

God is not an absent deity, rolling His lightning colored eyes at the screams coming from Earth.

He is an active participant through us, His artwork, His life’s work.

His will is ultimately fire. Fire is renewing, cleansing. The flames sharpens the steel of our soul making it smooth and terribly honed, if only we would surrender to the process. A soul that is set ablaze and full of love that transcends all dimensions.

Because love is the only thing that will remain at the end of anything.

"We should not be upset at times of darkness; this is especially important if we are not the cause of that darkness, for God's care is effecting this, for reasons in which He alone is aware." - Saint Isaac the Syrian

Don’t be afraid, just let it happen and let yourself be in awe. We are not in control.

"And this is how you can be walking and falling

At the same time"