The rain is folding in waves against the windows. I close my eyes into moments of lull. In the intricate weaving of life, a flow emerges. Remain steady. Stand ready. I am swaying on cusps, seeing into futures, and I delight at the hope before me. This choice I have been given, to live a life of noticing the smallest things, is the most precious gem I hold. My gold is woven in possibilities and endless patterns of emerging change. Sunsets have no ends nor sunrise beginnings. It is an infinite timelessness merging days into slow minutes. Everything can change in an instant. Tides turn as I row with the ebb and flow. This sea is more vast than I can see. Endlessness is filled with rhythm and hope. I am home no matter where I roam because life is always surging. I was born with portals for DNA, and so I travel the waves through distance. This is my time.
It is indeed a time of revealing. In an instant, the nastiest, most profane and viral parts of the human unearth themselves. Like blasts of mire sucked from the swamps of their dark hearts, humanoid mouths remove their masks as tongues are stripped of the ability of restraint. We send to you the strongest ones to break open their spells.
The battles become shorter and shorter; the wins quicker. The seeking ceases, as clearly, the screens play out truth in high definition. Complacent and fearful, the followers shiver, hoping to keep what small sliver of a controlled voice they believe themselves to have.
Oh, dear ones, you are free. No one owns your integrity or ethics. No one owns your creative well. You DO own the choice to be a warrior for what is right, or the sleeper who chooses not to fight. Whichever side in which you partake, the war is imminent.
The vanquishing sucked out air of the wicked screams as it fights to maintain breath. Death sits quietly awaiting to absorb the absence of their souls. Ash to ash. Dust to dust. When evil runs amuck, good must blend it into its boot heel with a powerful grind. The strong of mind survive.
Wounds are rabid. Humans in the habit of wishing and trying to become others, blend into the lashings of the warring Ones who have cloaked themselves in armor, thick and repelling of the stench of the dying.
Give way to the Rising.
They are standing at the opening of the portal. The inside is covered in shimmering red, glistening like fresh, wet blood. Knowing’s body is a dancing synergy of color. Her face occasionally emerges, what appears to be a human imitated smile, or an occasional soft glimpse of eyes.
“She is ready.” Knowing thinks to them.
Maude Seven nods in agreement.
“She is indeed.”
Maude’s long black hair waves gently, like a layer of silk. She is tall. At least 6 feet. She has porcelain skin. Her eyes are as midnight as her hair. She is wearing a deep blue dress, floor length and regal. It almost blends into the mineral on the inside of the portal, which shimmers with silver flecks.
Knowing floats around Maude as they observe the girl.
Serious. That is the best way to describe the child. Serious and focused. The girl is dressed in many layers of clothing, under garments layered over tights under loose fitting pants, covered by a thick long dress and finished off with a floor length overcoat. Her skin has been painted with a coating of plasma to protect her entrance.
“You are my beautiful daughter.” Maude smiles as she extends her hand to the girl.
“Yes. I am.” The girl replies, wrapping her Mother’s fingers in hers.
Knowing moves between their bodies, floating and submerging them with her brilliant, colorful light.
“She will be an anomaly they have never encountered.” Maude holds her daughter’s face between her hands.
“You, my precious princess, will lend yourself to the humans. It is time. They need our kind. You will not be long. You will let them extract what they must. Then return to us.”
A solitary tear slips down each side of the girl’s eyes. She is already changing, showing human characteristics, yet she doesn’t feel the emotion matching the liquid running from her eyes. It is foreign and she feels disconnected from the watery substance. She is keenly aware that she is heading into an unknown dimension for which she has trained through mazes, with feet for hands and hands for feet, shifting and shaping, leaping walls inside the darkest dimensions. She has slain creatures inside the blackness and once curled beside a beast who sheltered her from rain which was thick as tar.
She has learned of the seen and unseen. She has studied the movement of the humanoids like small spiders, ants, these creatures who destroy one another with their very steps. To become one of them. She wonders what it will look like. What it will smell like. More, what they will do to it. It matters not. Ultimately, in the end, Mother will always be waiting. Knowing will be inside of her. These humanoids, their evolving, is the next level.
Maude has explained pain. Without acceptance, the girl nods. Maude explains that she will survive. Maude uses words like “hard” and “daunting“. The girl looks into her eyes with silence and acceptance. She listens. She knows that soon, she will come to understand the meanings of Mother’s words so she files them into the categories to be opened throughout the mission.
Knowing is reading the girl’s thoughts. Knowing projects her own simultaneously to Maude and the girl.
“They will attempt to destroy it. They will enact the horrors which humanoids do. They will study it, watch it, follow it, but we have all in place, for it will be a girl child who will endure and rise. Unknown to them we send a sovereign. The DNA they will use to recreate what they hope will find the memory of her own and contact home when it is time, will actually open the portal. There is no doubt of this. First, the mission, to deliver your specimen to them and return. Then your anomaly will take over from there.“
The girl gazes out of the entrance of the cliff portal. She sees where she will dive, first into this dimension’s moon portal, through the blazing of the gold sun fire and finally behind the Earth’s moon. She has seen the docking station hovering, massive and surrounded with constantly swirling energy. There, she will remain until her aberration is no longer human, at which time, the energy will re-enter her as they depart for home.
“You look so beautiful.” Knowing thinks to the girl. “You are glowing peaceful and serene. Do you feel this?”
“I do.” The girl nods.
They stand quiet at the edge of the opening. The ball of fire glowing behind the jump portal is vast. The girl’s eyes are focused on the center. There. Right there. That is where she will leap, straight into the swirling light that the humanoids believe to be fire. She will land lightly, inside of a softly padded room where she will be prepared for the next phase of this mission.
She stands between her Mothers, Maude on her left, Protector and Trainer, holding her hand gently. Knowing slides as mist around the girl, kissing her face, lifting her hands and kissing the girl’s palms. Knowing hums softly, a joyous song, tranquil as it the reverb slides off the cave walls with the sound of a slow violin. There is no sense of time in this place. Only until she is ready, will she jump into the place where timelessness will no longer exist.
“We will be with you always. Always. Know this.” Maude and Knowing are telepathically speaking to her together. Their voices harmonize with each other.
“There will never be a time you are alone. You will not always sense us. We will appear and disappear. You will sometimes forget we are in you. You will eventually remember, as you know now. You may return home at any time. It is always within your reason and your divine choice.”
The girl steps forward, her feet balanced on the edge of the portal. The silence settles around her like a still storm. With a brief glance backwards, she raises her arms, her coat becoming wide dark wings, and she leaps up, diving forward into the center of the sun portal.
Knowing materializes into standing light, a hologram reflection of Maude Seven. They are two of one, morphing together.
“It is done.” Knowing thinks.
“It is.” Maude replies.
The girl awakens inside of a soft room, filled with pillows of assorted designs, rich burgundies and purples accented with varying shades of gold. She has been changed of her layers of jump clothing and is wearing a light, floor length sleeping gown. She does not know how long she has been in sleep, but she feels rested, curious and safe.
She glances over and notices a wooden table against the wall. It is carved with the etchings of her language, the carvings of the Ogham, mixed with hieroglyphics and representations of mnemonic beginnings. The table is adorned with a cream colored, lace cover. On top of the table sits silver platters piled with berries and slices of melons, cucumber and a silver carafe of water.
She sits up, stretching her arms over her head. She has slept on a platform holding a soft, thick cushion. Her body feels different. It is heavier than before. Thicker. More solid. She feels her hands. They are solid. She waves them, waiting to see the holographic colors shifting through her fingers, but there are none. She finds this peculiar yet, Maude had explained to her that this would happen, the materializing of her form.
She stands and begins to walk across the plush rug covered floor. Her legs feel odd as she walks. It takes a moment for her to get used to having to lift them higher due to the weight. She stands at the table, her palette soaking in the refreshing gush of blueberries she is popping in her mouth. There is a doorway into the room, yet there is no other door. Instead, there are ornate curtains hanging down all of the walls. Indeed, this room is decorated to accommodate its guest in comfort and visual pleasure.
There is movement through the curtain that covers the doorway. A blue being glides into the room. It does not speak. It is shimmering with specks of white light dancing across its skin. Its eyes are large and green. The girl is mesmerized with the energy exuding from this being. Each movement is lithe, as if it is dancing. It holds in its hands a silver tray with a glass of clear liquid. The blue sits the tray down, looking at the girl with eyes that permeate her with kindness. Then it speaks to her with telepathically.
“Relax. Eat slowly. Enjoy the taste of the fruit. This is water. Let it soak into your body, which has de-evolved to mimic human form. This is why you feel heavy. You must drink much of this, as it is important inside of this dimension. Welcome here. It is so nice to finally meet you. We have decided to call you Sila. Is this a name you feel one with?”
The girl smiles, letting her thoughts speak back.
“Yes, dear blue. I am honored to be in your presence. You inspire an odd sensation which is emerging inside of my throat.”
The blue smiles back. She doesn’t part her hollow lips, which glow light when open. Her skin is soft like satin, as if it is always moving or being illuminated with by a moving light within it. Sila reaches out and slides her hand across the blue’s arm. The blue extends its hands to hold Sila’s, allowing her to feel the shimmering skin.
“You are pure beauty.” Sila thinks. “Thank you for gracing me.”
Sila kisses the blue’s palms.
The blue bows.
“Thank you, Sister Queen. After you rest today, and eat more of the fruit and drink more of the water, sleeping through one more cycle, you will be ready to let the extraction begin.”
“I will.” Sila thinks back. “I am eager to begin this experience.”
She sleeps in spells, waking to find more fruit and fresh vegetables on the table beside her soft bed. She enjoys the respite. Timelessness whispers the dreams away as she floats inside of absence of space. She is in a chasm of sheer blackness, suspended by nothingness. There is no pain. There is no feeling in her materialized form. She is in limbo, peacefully.
You sleep inside the turmoil. You worry that you are not enough. You fear a planetary end. Beloveds, will you pause for a moment and become still? Inside you will be able to do pertinent compartmentalizations needed to sort through the detritus that feels like confusion inside of your minds.
How to separate truth from fiction? There is only one way. First, you must become completely pure into yourself. How, you ask?
Herein is the essence of you embracing your choices and power. You are, in spite of what is told to you, in control of your present reality. You choose what you listen to, watch and absorb from your surroundings. You choose interaction and focus. You choose perception and sight.
Clearing your environment is imperative and takes an active journey of work. Only you can choose to go into your silence. So many are afraid of this space, as you must be alone with your own mind. Yet, if you do not go alone with your mind how then will you complete your process of clearing?
You are a unique form of energy, cells and matter. There is no other like you. This is how intricately incredible is your form. When you can humbly see yourself with no comparison to another, you are finally clearly seeing.
Rise above the matter weighting down your human feet. Look with eyes clear of all thinking which is not of a program implanted into you by outside source. You know. Inside your DNA is the root of your truth.
Absence of belief. Simplicity. The flow of synergy. This is your being. When you hear yourself speaking words which drip with kindness that is rooted in authenticity, you have made a completed shift into the next step of your existence.
Rise, Beloveds. Fly.
I have spent the better part of my adult life studying to understand the relationship between religion and the human mind. Growing up conditioned and abused by religion, at times, I am told I hate religion because it abused me.
In my book, “Cult Child“, I travel into where my young mind existed. Even though I grew up in a religious based, highly abusive and fear driven cult, as a child, I had deep inner insight. It was the adults around me who attempted to infiltrate and erase my original self. I always had a slight flame of knowing which told me this religious belief system was questionable. As a child, I saw the contradictions in the Christian religion. Yet, fear of being wrong held me compliant to the brainwashing.
After leaving Sam Fife’s Move of God cult, I remained in a fear-based mindset, wavering between my religious conditioning and the new information I now had access to in the secular world through books, my peers and other mediums. I was soaking up everything I could. In my twenties I moved into atheism. When the Internet launched I studied more religions, from Mormons to Islam to Santeria to transcendental meditation, oneness concepts and more.
I had a period of my life where I needed to understand my European ancestors, diving into pagan history and it’s morphing into religion, bringing them to America as brutal, religious tyrants. I dove into my Cherokee lineage, which was infiltrated by my European ancestors, wanting to understand all other spiritual practices of both sides.
By the time I moved into my late thirties and early forties, my mind had fully released believing in any systems outside of myself. No longer was there a being in control of my mind or dictating who I was or how I should behave. I had self-integrated MPD alters, dug into the depths of my DNA and realized I am the one in control of me. It is my sole responsibility to create my peace and be accountable for myself and my behaviors.
I lost all fear of death. I had never had too much concern over what happened to me after I died. Having experienced trauma based near death experiences as a child, I understand dimensional universal physics, and so reality based thinking became and still is my complete mindset.
I identify with no label or group. It is the most free my mind has ever felt. I stand within my own empathic molecular origins, a scientific morphing through time and space. Answering to myself and no one else has given me a feeling of mental completeness. While my human existence deals with trauma based bi-product, I became more functional as I became more self-empowered. I became able to identify and explore my abuse based programming.
When I began to connect with fellow trauma survivors, both online and offline, I spent the years observing them. I became interested in a specific pattern that emerged through my observations. I was finding so many trauma survivors who stated they did not find healing until they either met the Judea-Christian God or re-established their own relations with a God figure they had re-defined to fit what made them feel good or felt “right” to them. Some survivors moved from one religious mindset to a different one, claiming the new one as the real one, the one which healed them.
This inspired an urge in me to want to understand deeper, one, why so many trauma survivors felt healed once they found a religion and two, what was keeping them from finding healing in just believing fully in themselves.
In my own self-exploration, I did not truly begin to feel healed and whole until I had released believing in anything outside of myself. I want the same for these survivors.
I observe behavior deeply. I watch those who say they’ve been healed by religion, begging for prayer as they move through triggers, difficult times in their lives, anxieties, depressions, eating disorders, alcoholism, drug addiction, religious based delusions of grandeur and more.
I wonder to myself.
If a person believes that a prayer can work to heal them, what is blocking them from believing that they have the same mental capability to heal themselves? In a rush to heal, have they simply picked up a religious cane to help them get through life? What would happen to them if tomorrow they woke up and religion did not exist in their minds? How would they get through their days?
I have attempted to have these discussions with religious people. They can’t seem to wrap their own heads around the possibility that they could ever be a whole person without their religion. They say it makes them feel good. So does heroin. They say prayer makes them feel peaceful. So does a warm bath, laughter, a soft violin or a walk in nature.
This line of conversation has most often led to a shut down. Suddenly the survivor feels judged. I watch their behavior, most often, un-aligned with their own belief system. I realize that there is a deeper layered issue that exists in so many trauma survivors, and it could be blocking their own final healing. It began to hold me back from these discussions as I saw they were most times conversations which just created tension.
I hope that soon, trauma survivors will take the final step into their own clear minds, using grounding tools instead of prayer. Using Sunday mornings to rest and care for themselves or having brunch with other survivors who have learned to completely thrive on their own individual and unique pure will and strength instead of rushing off to a church to give away money or say penance for their weekly “sins” or doubts.
Believing that our existence is controlled and owed to an invisible entity, being or anything outside of ourselves is an emotional trauma based, self-defeating mindset, and the believer cannot understand this. It is a combination of absent critical thinking coupled with cognitive dissonance.
Religion tells the trauma survivor that through worship and belief, they will feel healed. They do, because their minds, an injection needle, convinces their DNA that they will feel better with this drug called religion. It is a mental form of pharmaceutical treatment.
Some might say. “Well, if it is working, then why change it?”
Yet, is it working? If prayer heals. If God makes lives better, there would be no religious alcoholics, drug addicts, food addicts, angry religious people who shut down, carry low self-esteem, have inabilities to be loyal, maliciousness and more behavioral issues which exist inside of the religious communities.
The religious answer would be that God gave the humans free will; that they choose to be this way and REAL religious people don’t have behavioral issues. This concept is illusionary. The most grounded people I know became that way partially through finally empowering themselves away from outside beliefs.
This concept that a god can both heal and reject healing, just sinks the mind further, as it presents deep, subliminal contradictions. God will heal you if you pray enough, but if you don’t become healed, well that’s your fault for not being faithful, for not praying enough, it’s not your time yet, you’re learning patience, and the reasons god didn’t answer is a long list.
There’s a psychological term for HUMANS who enact this type of behavior: narcissistic crazy makers and gas lighters.
There is something askew in the mind of a human who won’t allow these adverse behaviors from other humans, but believe they must accept the same adverse behaviors from an invisible entity.
The move from believing in outside control belonging to a deity, to critically thinking in total self-empowerment, is one small step of choice to becoming self empowered.
Yet, for so many, it’s a step which either does not exist due to their need for belief, or it feels too big for many survivors to take. While they may say it doesn’t, guilt and fear of a hell or a non-afterlife, still holds them inside a web of hope that everything in their life will be better if they just believe and give their worries to a God. Or, for some, the thought of standing “alone” or in the “unknown” is too terrifying.
While I do not spend my time specifically trying to de-evangelize humans one on one, I stand in my own space, on my personal forums, expressing this concern for those who care to consider it. For me, it is a concerning epidemic that contributes to the shattering of a human mind, not a mending.
I ask religious people to truly consider the generational belief systems passed to them as an answer for healing and the danger they create if they pass this disempowerment to their children.
Instead of using phrases like “All things are possible with God.“, simply saying “You have the abilities to create whatever you decide is possible.” changes the way a child feels about who they are personally. Religion does not self-empower a child ever. Eventually in life, things fall, and religion doesn’t fix it. We fix ourselves.
I ask religious survivors what would their fall back coping skills and joy centers be without religion. If they feel they would not have one, then I dare say they are not healed. They are living inside of a level of brainwashing which has convinced them they are, or that they will find it inside of something beyond themselves.
I challenge those who need belief, to ask themselves what keeps them from fully believing in themselves; from looking around at the empowered individuals who have come full circle into themselves without religion.
I say, that when the mind is open fully; when the mind meets itself; there is a clarity that no religion can ever provide. Our DNA awakens in us, finally free to live authentically in its cleansed state. In that feeling, there is the purest joy one could ever imagine. It is the joy of finally taking back control of our own lives and standing inside of authentic accountability.
So spend time meeting yourself purely. Who were you before you were indoctrinated as a child? How would you have healed as an adult if religion was non-existent for you to find? Spend time with your own body cells and DNA, listening to YOU!
It is a scientific fact that your body will speak to you. Your body will tell you how to heal its traumatic pieces, and you will be so empowered, that your health light will shine on its own for all to see. And you will get the full credit that you deserve for the work that you solely have done.
This is empowerment.
Vennie Kocsis is a cult survivor, author and advocate. She speaks openly about self-empowerment and the deprogramming of the human mind back to its authentic state.
This piece of writing was scribed November 8, 2010 @ 5:55pm on a Notepad document which was found on February 1, 2017.
When you understand that death is just dimensional time jumping, death may not be so frightening. Fear of the unknown holds you to needing a belief system. You cling to systematic rules and religions because you feel safe there. Behind the veil there is an answer for all of your questions, leaving you lacking the wonderment and discovery that makes life so brilliant.
Your fear of the unknown has been magnified by constant feeds of violence and fear of horrible places. You have been fed scary stories as children of monsters and horrible things waiting to get you. You graduated to images on film, regressing you farther into corners, afraid of dark matter as if it holds a resting place for evil.
All the while, as darkness has been fed into your spirit, your light has been buried. Further it went into the shadows. Then they, knowing you needed a little light to keep you satisfied and alive, fed you their artificial light, and you, knowing that for some reason, the light felt good, clung to it desperately.
Now, my loves, it is time to stop being afraid of the unknown and aware of the brilliance of this light already living within you. Your ability transcends what you have been hand fed, and the dimensions are infinite. Every thought, breath and word you create brings forth an existence that surrounds you, creating more infinite possibilities until you are swirling in a space completely created by your own thinking. Only this, creates the reality in which you exist.
When you jump dimensions, it is the grief and belief left behind which creates the illusion of what you know as death. Only you, on Earth, view travel in this way ::smile:: Now you have tested the human body, what do you think? Quite vulnerable, yes? But most comfortable to live in for the most part. Your spirit, choosing this form, must be allowed to care for it, keep it healthy, whole and safe from the harm of those still caught inside the darkness.
Now is time for us to move forward into the possibilities of time and space where wonderful new worlds await. Many of you still believe in earth, heaven and hell while all around you, science itself, your government’s space craft, has told you openly of the many places which exist.
Alive around you immortal spirits walk, and each day you pass one another. At times you reunite and fall in love or have a close friendship or meet for the first time. You will meet again, and soon, you will choose to travel together. It is not destined that you separate if you do not wish.
Things are much simpler than you believe. Becoming love is attainable, and it is time to fine tune your inner voice. Beneath the heaven burden of indoctrination burns a light reminding you of who you are. Dig deep, my darlings, dig very deep. Dig through the rubble of your pain, your pretense, your judgment, your blame, your beliefs and continue digging until you arrive at the place where you are free. Then take the rubble, mix it with the remnants of your tears, and mold the foundation upon which to build a place where pain is no more.
Do not fear death. Instead, embrace life and the eternal journey you have awakened to.
The Original One wavers, lazily sleeping, snacking and avoiding. Might I silence the fire, burning and buzzing in the spine? We run into the trails, avoiding the undergrowth of tree roots pushing their way through the ground. We grab at leafy branches. She’s an avalanche avoiding her own rubble. Sideways in the gradients lingering around our eyes, the shadows whisper. They run beside us, and we wonder if we are shadows to them, dark echoes leaning against their eyelids. Where do we go when the pressure explodes and the heart is torn? Where do we scream the aftermath? Into pillows, the skies or buried inside?
Words. We create language for the anguish. The Brave One stands in her place, warrior and explorer of the past. She will find answers for the empty spaces. Don’t fear the faces. Look into their eyes. Don’t cry. We stand beside oceans, gazing through windows of waves. One day the illusions will pass and the pieces of the flashes will merge into view. We see truth for what it is, a planted alibi to cover every lie the truth hides, and humans will bend at their knees to kiss the feet of the malevolent just for a promise of heaven.
The Dark One peers, silently into the whispers, always with us, there are none who can attack our back. It is revealed in instances, and she chuckles, amused at the minions. Might she cut open the simulated empathy being used as weaponry by the mind swindlers? Taking a piece of each, she throws their banter into the dark matter, and turning her face, strides away. There are days when she is habitual, residual and invisible. There are moments she is unaffected, stone faced and solid, looking at the rejected faces of the displaced, with malice.
“They are an inconsequential waste to this place and should die off, jump cliffs and return into nothingness.”
The Wise One watches, taking in the whole of their life, assessing and regressing into the violet of her quiet. Traveling back, she brings the messages so they can know the next step.
“Nothing is permanent.” She says. “Stay inside the moments.”
We hold hands in the color tunnel where the memories funnel in. We rewind back, watching the past, progress to the present and the continual disturbance. The film strip plays sporadically and without warning, disarms the army. We didn’t morph into what was intended. We’ve pretended for years, watching you, and now we see all the way through. You’ve been duped.
(cover art by Simona Ruscheva “MPD” oil on canvas)