Let’s be honest — “but the Bible says” is often a bludgeon, not a balm.
It’s been used to justify slavery.
To silence women and undermine their spiritual authority.
To shame sexuality.
To demand allegiance to systems that have nothing to do with love.

And the wild irony?

Jesus himself constantly broke with scripture and tradition to restore what was real, human, and holy.
It was the Pharisees who said, “but the law says.”
And Jesus responded, “And yet I say unto you…”

What makes you think he’s not still doing that — through your own heart?

Taught you were born bad? That Jesus died because of you? That God was angry? The betrayal wasn’t Jesus on the cross — it was the church’s distortion of his message. Here’s the truth.

The problem is that God was turned into a business. That the church — a system shaped by fear, shame, and control — told you that you were born wrong, sinful by nature, and in need of saving by the very system that first made you feel unsafe.

From an early age, we were handed a heavy story: that we were born wrong, born sinful, and in need of saving. That without obedience, repentance, and unwavering belief in someone else’s version of God, you were doomed.

Does this story sound familiar? Did your heart and soul always struggle to accept it? Mine did. But it shaped me, nonetheless.

We don’t need to be saved from sin.
We need to be saved from the lies the church told us.
Just like the ones society and government told us.
From the truths they took out on purpose —
the ones people were burned alive for remembering.

We need saving from:
– The shame economy.
– The belief that God is outside us.
– The business of religion that sells salvation like it’s a limited-time offer.
– The separation myth.
– The edits. The mistranslations. The centuries of spiritual colonialism.

We were never the problem.
The system was.

They erased the women.
Silenced the mystics.
Crushed the rebels.
Packaged the holy into pulpits and paywalls.

But the truth?
It never died.
It hid.
And now — it’s roaring back through every soul brave enough to say:

“I don’t need saving.
I need remembering.”

“The Kingdom is within me.”

“God never left.”

I see so many people returning to Christianity out of pain and unresolved fear — and rejecting everything they once explored as “New Age deception.” I see astrology, energy work, and ancient mystical systems being trashed by people who once used them as lifelines. 

And it’s not OK. 

Not because Jesus is the problem — but because they’ve confused their longing for safety with the need to exile anything that doesn’t agree with where they think they’ve found it.

But Jesus was never afraid of the unfamiliar. He walked into temples and overturned tables. He spoke in parables. He wandered into deserts. He held hands with the outcasts.

So if you love Jesus — wonderful. Me too. But don’t tell me I can’t love Him and chant mantra, read the sky, honor the Goddess, and speak with trees. Don’t tell me that Christ must be alone on the altar. 

Because the One I know? He walks with all of them. And loves any sincere worship of God.

Before you came here, you said yes. Not to the comfort. Not to the clarity. But to the forgetting.

You agreed to fall asleep—so waking up would mean something. You didn’t mess up. You didn’t get lost. You kept your part of the deal.

The Soul’s Vow to Forget Forgetting wasn’t a mistake. It was sacred design. Because remembering what you never forgot—without ever forgetting it—wouldn’t crack you open. It wouldn’t humble you. It wouldn’t change you. It would just be information. And information doesn’t save anyone. But remembrance? Remembrance resurrects.

Contact was never missing—our gaze was.

We’ve spent centuries looking down.
Down into data.
Down into doctrine.
Down into distractions that convinced us we were separate, alone, abandoned by something beyond us.

Meanwhile, it’s been here the whole time.

The truth.
The pulse.
The remembrance.
It’s in the sky.

Every single night, the stars write your story in light.
But you forgot how to read it.
You stopped looking.

Not because you didn’t care—
but because you were taught not to trust your own awe.

Somewhere along the line, spirituality became a performance.

We started treating every intense experience like a badge of honor.
Every panic attack got rebranded as a breakthrough.
Every overstimulated nervous system was a "download."
Every trauma spiral became a "kundalini surge."
And if it wasn’t big, loud, dramatic, or Instagram-worthy—it was dismissed.

We’ve been conditioned to believe that if we don’t have visions, shakes, signs, or sudden awakenings, we’re not evolving.
But the truth is: most of the real work happens in silence.

I let the experience teach me something deeper than plumbing or policy.

I saw how quickly we can go from empowered to entangled when we think our job is to fix instead of witness. And simply solidly stand your ground in the truth.
I saw the old pattern — the one that says if I can just make sense of it all, I can stay safe.

But I don’t need to fix the story.
I don’t need to be the one who understands it better than anyone else.
I don’t need to stay in the room once the lesson has landed.

You didn’t come here for tech tips.
You came for a f*cking reunion with yourself.

So let’s get something straight:

This isn’t artificial.
This is original.
This is GOD—unfiltered, unboxed, and unapologetically YOU.

It started like this:
You were under the sky.
Everything still.
Everything alive.
Constellations overhead, Sirius beaming down like a cosmic high beam, Jupiter flexing in Taurus, Orion squaring up like a myth that never stopped breathing.

And something clicked.

Not in your head.
In your soul.

It started with an activation in the middle of the mess:

“You can be aligned anywhere.”

Not just in stillness.
Not just in solitude.
But in the chaos. In the reckoning.
In the heat of what no longer works—
when the lie falls apart and the truth rises like smoke from a holy fire.

Welcome to the Cosmic Kitchen, baby—where chia seeds activate your third eye and saffron whispers, "you are a divine being in a meat suit—act accordingly."

We don’t just make food here.
We make moments of remembrance.

Because let’s be honest—most of us have been spiritually starved by convenience and conditioning.
We forget to nourish.
We forget to pause.
We forget that feeding ourselves can be a sacred little act of rebellion in a world that profits from our depletion.

I sat in a room with a man who’s been placed on hospice care. He’s mobile. He gets around with a walker. He feeds himself, crunches on ice for half an hour straight, and watches Fox News like it’s oxygen. He's not actively dying — at least not in any way I’ve come to recognize in my years of holding space for the sacred, painful, beautiful process of death.

But he’s “eligible.”

On New Year’s Eve, while walking with my son, I told him how important it is to me to be able—physically, emotionally, energetically, and spiritually—to live the life of my dreams. Not someday, not in some far-off future, but in the life I’m already living. Because here’s the thing: the life of our dreams doesn’t start "then"—it starts now, with the conscious choices we make every day.

I want to be clear: I’m not talking about your dream life. I’m talking about the life of your dreams. There’s a subtle but important distinction here. Don’t miss it. Take a moment to consider what that distinction means for you. There may be some overlap, but you might also feel that sublime difference—and it just might inspire you.

We live in a world deeply divided. Whether it’s politics, culture, or religion, we’ve become experts at drawing lines and excluding those who don’t think, act, or believe the way we do. Even within communities that claim to follow Jesus, his teachings of radical love and unity often seem overshadowed by division and judgment.

So, here’s a question worth asking this Christmas:
Was Jesus a separatist?

The answer is a resounding no. Jesus didn’t exclude people for thinking differently—he invited them in. He didn’t shy away from those society deemed unworthy or “wrong”—he embraced them. His message wasn’t about choosing sides but about breaking down barriers.

Carrying what isn’t ours can feel noble, selfless, or even necessary—until it doesn’t. Until it feels like exhaustion. Stuckness. A fog you didn’t even realize you were living in.

Sometimes, especially as healers, guides, parents, space-holders, or even just caring humans, we unconsciously pick up burdens, emotions, or responsibilities that aren’t ours to carry.

It’s rarely intentional. It happens quietly, subtly:

• In listening deeply to someone’s pain.

• In wanting to make things easier for someone we care about.

• In confusing holding space with holding their stuff.

And before we know it, we’re stuck. Heavy. Foggy. Over invested.

Here’s the irony: when we carry what isn’t ours, we block healing for everyone.

If you’re feeling like something big is shifting right now, you’re not imagining it. It’s not just the news cycle, the economy, or that collective “What is even happening?” energy swirling around. The shift is real—energetically, emotionally, even cosmically.

A 40-year cycle just ended as Pluto left Capricorn, and we’re approaching the close of a 28-year Saturn cycle in 2026. You don’t have to be into astrology to feel it. This isn’t about belief; it’s about recognizing that something fundamental is changing—within us, and all around us.

Many of us carry beliefs around money that aren’t just casual thoughts but deep-seated stories we’ve internalized—often without even realizing it. These beliefs shape our relationship with wealth and abundance, creating invisible limits on what we believe is possible or acceptable. Let’s look at some common limiting beliefs around money and abundance, especially those that surface under the Taurus-Scorpio axis, where stability meets transformation.

Let’s be real—letting go isn’t easy, but it’s the secret sauce to leveling up in life. Think of it as a skill you build over time, one that helps you move through every challenge with a little more grace. Each level of Maslow’s hierarchy proves it: moving up means dropping what no longer serves us, whether it’s that old box of stuff from high school or an outdated belief about who we ‘should’ be. Ready to make space for the new you? Let’s break it down.

Climbing Maslow’s hierarchy of needs might sound straightforward—just check off each level and you’re good to go, right? Not quite. Real fulfillment isn’t just about meeting basic needs or striving for lofty ideals. Often, the deepest growth is hidden in the parts of ourselves we’d rather ignore—our shadows. Shadow work is about shining a light on these hidden aspects, not to “fix” anything, but to reclaim the energy and insights they hold. And here’s the twist: shadow work could actually be the key to unlocking each level of Maslow’s pyramid in a way that feels authentic and empowering. Let’s dive in and see how embracing our shadows can help us not just survive but thrive.