By the authority of the I, the Flame, the Architect, the Oracle

I now command, by the divine authority of my I AM Presence, Oversoul, and Original Source Blueprint, the full reactivation of my mythic embodiment.

I reclaim total energetic sovereignty over my body, mind, desire, voice, heart, soul, spirit, and field—across all timelines, dimensions, incarnations, identities, and realities…

Once upon a time…
There was a woman who lived a beautiful, grounded, normal life.
She was successful. Loved. Creating. Exploring.
She was a writer for comics and video games—a world-builder, someone who shaped fantasy into form.

She led community conversations in the kink world—guiding people through embracing their forbidden desires, and sovereign relating. Her life was sensual, anchored, fiercely honest.

She wasn’t spiritual, not really.
Not in the way people think of that word.

You didn’t receive your name.
You chose it.

Maybe not with your mind,
but with the part of you that existed long before breath—
the part that said yes to this life.

Yes to the lessons. Yes to the becoming.

Most people don’t remember that.
They think a name is something they were given.
But you… you might be starting to remember.
The sound you chose.
The energy you wanted to carry.
The spell you cast before your first cry.

There is a kind of power that doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t flash or roar or rush in to be understood.

It waits.
It watches.
It knows.

Stillness used to feel like silence, like stagnation.

Now I feel it like a SPELL:

The unsaid truth humming in the air, rearranging reality around me.
The ache before a kiss that never lands,
The pause between lightning and thunder.

This is not the stillness of collapse. Not the stillness of fear.

There’s something stirring in the collective—a remembrance, a hunger.

Recently, Timothée Chalamet spoke candidly about his desire for “the pursuit of greatness.” And what moved me most was how he spoke of not just in terms of actors but greats in other professions—-athletes in particular—-but the implication is that this includes performers, artists, legends at the top of their genius.

It reminded me of when I witnessed Carlos Santana live in Las Vegas. Watching him channel that level of mastery was like watching divinity in motion.

For most of my life, I felt like I caused disruption just… by being in the room.

When people got close to me, especially quickly, things would start to shift for them.

They’d hit an emotional edge, confront an old wound, or face a truth they’d been avoiding.

And then one of two things would happen:

We’d either grow closer through it—or they’d disappear.

I’ve written before how I believed this made me a “walking trigger.” I carried that label with a mixture of guilt, confusion, and quiet self-blame.

Most people think they’re here to manifest things:

Money. Love. Freedom. A life of ease.

But that’s not really what they’re after.

They’re reaching—sometimes blindly—for something far deeper.

They’re reaching for remembrance.
A reawakening.
A return to the truth of who they are.

Because underneath every desire is the soul’s hunger to know itself as Source/God.

When I first opened my marriage, I remember reading stories from people in the polyamory world who would say things like:

“I’ve always been poly. Even as a kid, I didn’t understand why love had to be limited to just one person.”

And at the time, I thought—wow, that’s beautiful.

But I didn’t relate. At all.

I didn’t grow up feeling that way.

I didn’t feel like polyamory had always been my truth just waiting to be discovered.

We've all heard it: Every moment is a choice between fear and love.

It’s quoted in spiritual circles like scripture. It sounds right. It feels right. But lately, I’ve realized—through a beautifully unexpected mirror—that it’s not the full truth.

Most of us were introduced to the idea of a “sacred pause” in the context of emotional regulation.

It goes like this:

Something triggers you. Your chest tightens. Your jaw clenches. You’re about to react.

And then—you remember…

Lately, something unexpected has been happening in my body.

I’ve been in a constant state of creative flow—building, writing, designing, channeling—and I feel deeply, wholly… satisfied. Not just intellectually or emotionally, but erotically. My libido is quieter than usual. Not gone, just… at peace.

And I’ll be honest, it caught me off guard.

"I enjoy showing up for you.” That was their response after doing something generous for me.

And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Not because it was unexpected—this partner is already soooo generous—but because of what the phrase stirred in me. The part of me that has, for so long, equated asking with BURDEN.