Mysterium tremendum—a phrase coined by theologian Rudolf Otto—is the experience of encountering the vast, awe-inspiring, and sometimes terrifying presence of the Divine. It is the feeling of being utterly small and yet profoundly connected. It is the rush of energy that overtakes you when you stand on the precipice of something beyond comprehension.

Saturn is often referred to as the “Great Teacher” or “Taskmaster” of the zodiac. It represents discipline, responsibility, structure, and the lessons we must learn in life. Unlike the more benevolent energies of planets like Venus or Jupiter, Saturn’s influence can feel challenging and demanding. However, it’s through these challenges that we grow, mature, and gain wisdom.

You’ve been taught to manage your emotions—
to curate your face,
to dress your pain up in spiritual quotes
and Instagram “transparency.”
You’ve learned to suck it up, get over it,
never let anyone see you break.

But here’s the truth:
The world doesn’t need any more “high-vibe” bypass or performance grief.
The world needs you to crack open and let the wild, holy mess out.

The Gospel of Judas shattered the church’s foundation: Jesus wasn’t betrayed, he was freed. Awakening wasn’t heresy — it was the very thing the institution feared.

Is Christianity really about Jesus? Or has it become tangled in fear, control, and Bible distortion? This piece exposes the gap between Christ’s teachings and what many practice today — and why so many are walking away.

They crucified the man, then buried the message. The church turned awakening into heresy and killed those who claimed direct access to God. This is the story of the silenced teachings of Jesus.

They crucified the man and built a business on his name. The church turned salvation into transaction and access to God into control. But awakening isn’t for sale — it never was.

These aren’t cute Sanskrit terms to sprinkle on a yoga class or spiritual meme. They are doorways into the Divine. And if you’re a teacher — in yoga, in spirituality, in life — you carry a responsibility when you speak them.

Because words like these shape how people live. When you flatten them, you lead people into bypass, victimhood, and shame. When you embody them, you point people back to Truth.

Sophia is the Divine Feminine before the erasure.
The ache in your bones to remember what you were taught to forget.
The voice under the noise. The knowing behind the veil.
The split in your own soul that’s been trying to come back into wholeness.

And if you’re reading this?
It’s probably not the first time She’s called you home.

It started with Her. Not with man. Not with sin. Not with the fall. It started with Wisdom.

Before Logos spoke, Before Yahweh named, Before the Word was made flesh— There was Sophia.

She moved first. She hovered over the waters not as helper, but as origin. She birthed form from formlessness, Sound from silence, Light from love.

She wasn’t added later. She was written out. Erased. Replaced by men who could not contain Her radiance so they fractured it, buried it, canonized Her absence.

But She remained.

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.

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.