Death by a Million Cuts: The Danger You Don’t See Coming
Posted on August 11, 2025 Leave a Comment
I once read a brilliant analogy, a father explaining to his son why women move through the world cautious of men.
He said:
“Think of women dealing with men like you deal with firearms at the deer lease. The first rule? Assume it’s loaded and dangerous until you confirm it’s not.”
The son instantly got it.
But I want to add a truth I’ve learned the hard way:
Not all “loaded guns” look dangerous.
Me: “The worst men I’ve known never raised a hand.”
Them: “So, no physical abuse?”
Me: “Exactly. The ones who hit you, you can name. You can compartmentalize it. You know it’s wrong.
The most dangerous ones were methodical, calculated. They dismantled me with gaslighting, emotional manipulation, financial control, and charm so polished it could pass inspection. They didn’t explode, they corroded.”
Them: “So… like slow damage?”
Me: “Slow, deliberate damage. The most dangerous ones don’t just hurt you, they drop poison in your drink by getting you to buy into their storyline.
They feed you just enough sweetness to make the bitterness go down. They use that sedation to paralyze their prey, keeping you still while they strip pieces of you away.
It’s psychological warfare.
I had to start recording the stories he would spin because line by line they would change… and then disappear altogether.
These men break you down, then get off on watching you break, it makes them feel powerful. The pain they cause becomes proof, in their minds, that they matter.
But here’s the truth they can’t escape: under that layer, they’re broken, insecure, and completely disconnected from their own spirit.”
Them: “So how do you know before it’s too late?”
Me: “You trust the one safety check they can’t fake, your nervous system.
If being around someone makes your breath shallow, your chest tight, or your mind foggy… that’s your body screaming you’re not safe. No debate, no doubt, get out.
Because sometimes what looks good and sounds good doesn’t feel good. And if it doesn’t feel good, it’s not for you.”
And this isn’t just for women already in the game, we have to pass this to our daughters.
We must teach them to trust their intuition over their intellect. Sometimes the person they meet may be kind to everyone else, seem harmless in public, yet carry ulterior motives with them. Their body will feel it before their mind can name it. That’s the alarm.
I’ve seen it again and again, many women who fall into abusive dynamics were neglected or abused as children. It feels familiar. They watched their own mothers abandon safety and well-being in the name of distorted love, and it modeled what was “tolerable.”
And here’s another non-negotiable:
Teach them financial independence before marriage.
Make sure they know how to take care of themselves so they’re never trapped in an abusive or controlling environment simply because they don’t know how to survive on their own.
Women are already more vulnerable in a world where physical strength, financial leverage, and societal bias can stack against them, but pregnancy can heighten that vulnerability even more. Your body is in a weakened state, your resources and energy are stretched, and your focus shifts to protecting the life you carry. It’s the easiest time for a controlling or abusive person to tighten their grip.
This is why slowing things down before that stage is crucial. Do a self-check-in: Is this partnership what I would want for my own daughter?
Test the waters. Say no to them and see how they honor your no. If they try to push past it, they don’t deserve your yes, because they don’t respect you or themselves. Watch how they handle disappointment before you commit to them. People can fake patience and charm for a while, but they can’t hide how they respond when they don’t get their way.
Me: “And here’s something else I’ve learned: if you value superficiality or materialism above integrity, service, or purpose, you’ll be more likely to be drawn to the glitter before you notice that the gold is covered in poison.
Abusers know how to shine just enough to catch your attention, but that shine is often a distraction from what’s rotting underneath. By the time you see past the glitter, you’ve already breathed in the toxins.
And many of the worst offenders? They’re loved by many. Praised. Pedestaled in the public eye.
They know how to charm a crowd, serve the right causes, and keep their image spotless, but behind closed doors, they shift with you. The person you see in private is not the one the world applauds.
That split is part of the strategy. It makes you doubt your own experience, because everyone else only sees the hero, never the harm.”
Women already know not every man is dangerous. But until we’re sure, we have to treat every interaction like the gun might be loaded. And some of the most dangerous ones are the ones you never hear go off, until you realize you’ve been bleeding out for years.
Some guns don’t go off with a bang, they empty you slowly, until you no longer remember who you were before you held them.
It’s Not the Person, It’s the Program
Posted on July 16, 2025 Leave a Comment
A Field Report on Grace, Boundaries, and the Healing Power of Testimony
There’s a sacred truth echoing through the chambers of my heart after a sacred gathering with fellow musicians who also believe in healing ourselves and others through music with intention. God spoke to all of us that night through sounds, stories, and presence. As one musician shared a powerful story of loss, resurrection, and return, I felt the familiar threads of my own path reflected back to me. The veil between our journeys thinned, and in that moment of listening through presence, a divine message rang out with crystalline clarity.
One woman shared her testimony of deep betrayal, loss, and the long road home to herself. I felt the familiar echo of my own journey.
What softened my heart that night wasn’t just the music, it was seeing the human beneath the pain. The stories we carry aren’t just wounds; they’re maps. And when we share them, we lay down a bridge for someone else to cross.
I shared a piece of my story, too, how learning to love myself meant I had to stop pleasing everyone else. How I had to stop sacrificing my peace just to feel needed or accepted. And in that moment of mutual honesty, I saw it again…
The clearest message that pierced through was this:
“It’s not the person, it’s the program.”
And if we want to change the story, we have to stop fighting the person and start healing the program. In us, and in the collective.
Sharing our testimony is part of that healing. You never know who’s listening. You never know whose life you might soften, shift, or save, just by telling the truth.
We are all carrying weight. Just because you can’t see what someone is holding doesn’t mean it’s not heavy. Most people are doing the best they can with the tools they were given, or based on what was modeled for them in childhood. That doesn’t mean we excuse harm, but it does mean we can meet one another with more grace.
Invisible loads. Ancestral echoes. Childhood survival codes.
You don’t have to tolerate disrespect. You don’t have to abandon yourself for connection. You don’t have to keep people in your life who don’t honor your truth, your voice, your boundaries, or your healing. You can release with compassion, because they are wrong, but because you are ready to live right.
Sometimes the greatest love is choosing not to stay in roles where we’re spiritually malnourished.
Too often, we judge the person without understanding the operating system they were given.
But this isn’t about enabling harm.
This is about choosing grace without tolerating abuse.
🌀 Here’s what I now know to be true:
We do not have to keep people in our lives who:
Disrespect us, emotionally or physically. Try to “fix” us instead of love us as we are. Override our “no.” Diminish our truth to protect their comfort.
But we also don’t have to make them wrong to walk away.
Sometimes the most sovereign act is to release someone without revenge.
To bless them from afar while honoring our capacity.
Boundaries aren’t punishment.
They’re remembrance of what we’re no longer available for.
🌿 You can still have compassion without capitulation.
It’s possible to say:
“I see that you’re in pain… but I won’t absorb it anymore.”
“I know you’re doing the best you can… but your best is hurting me.”
“I love your soul… but I can’t stay in the storm you don’t want to leave.”
We don’t need to sacrifice ourselves for love.
Sacrifice for love is sacred.
But sacrifice of self for love…
That’s a distortion.
True connection never requires you to abandon who you are.
🔥 And the gift of testimony…
Each soul is a living scroll of resilience.
The women who shared her story and had lived through fires I could feel in my bones.
She had been trafficked, abused, and then discarded.
And still, she chose music. She chose healing. She chose to share.
In her story…
I saw my mother.
I saw myself.
I saw all the women I’ve ever tried to save…
And all the women I’ve become in the process.
Her truth softened me, not to be silent, but to be sovereign and more compassionate without continuing the cycle of self abandonment.
🕊️ The Healing Code of Storytelling
Your testimony is not a trauma dump. It is a truth scroll.
It is your soul’s declaration: “I made it through. And you can too.”
You never know who needs your voice.
You never know who’s praying to hear the very story you’re afraid to tell.
And in sharing it, you set yourself free, and open the door for others.
I choose peace over performance.
Boundaries over burnout.
Self-love over self-sacrifice.
And grace over judgment.
May you feel the same freedom to choose yourself.
May you trust that your truth is medicine.
And may we all remember:
Healing doesn’t mean tolerating harm.
Love doesn’t require you to lose yourself.
And the most sacred work of all is remembering who you are beneath the programming.
🐿️ The Squirrel Came to Play
Oh, and yes, there was a squirrel.
Not just any squirrel. A pet squirrel.
One that climbed over me like a child remembering I was safe again.
That little guardian came to remind me:
Even prophets need play.
Even truth-tellers need tenderness.
Even warriors need wonder.
💌 Final Transmission:
So if you’re in the middle of your own reckoning…
If you’re holding both rage and grace in your trembling hands…
Just remember:
It’s not the person. It’s the program. You have the power to decide what and who stays in your field.
May you never again sacrifice yourself for connection.
May you share your story and remember your power.
May you find the courage to set boundaries, speak truth, and still love with an open heart.
🕊️ You’re not alone and your voice matters more than you know.
Our voice is a healing portal.
When shared through song, love, and healing intent, the frequency ripples through every cell, every soul, and shifts those who are ready, back into love.
The Tinkerbell Theory: Why Matter Must Remember It Matters
Posted on July 15, 2025 Leave a Comment
Nothing matters,
until meaning is placed upon matter.
We, as humans, are the meaning-makers.
We give matter meaning.
And we take it away.
But here’s the sacred paradox:
we are matter.
We are soul in form,
organic, living, evolving.
When organic matter is denied its natural flow,
it stagnates.
What stagnates becomes blocked.
What is blocked cannot breathe.
What cannot breathe, dies.
If matter, be it human or otherwise,
receives its meaning from external sources,
it becomes unstable, captive
to the fluctuating beliefs of others.
The soul forgets its sovereign design.
This is why humanity must remember:
its very existence is the meaning of life.
To forget that we matter,
to forget that we hold inherent worth,
is to forsake the very fabric of our being.
It is to forget the Source,
the ONE, the LOVE,
the GOD within all things.
To make this idea simple,
I created what I call: The Tinkerbell Theory.
In the story of Peter Pan,
Tinkerbell begins to fade,
not because her time was up,
but because someone stopped believing in her.
When Wendy says, “I don’t believe in fairies,”
Tinkerbell’s light dims.
She begins to die,
not from lack of magic,
but from misplaced meaning.
This is what we do to one another.
And it wounds most deeply
those who have forgotten their union with Source.
Tinkerbell only revives
when belief is restored,
when others remember her worth.
But this is not sustainable.
It reveals the hidden cost
of codependent relationships:
placing belief in others
above belief in the Divine.
To be sustained by the approval of others
is to live on borrowed breath.
True aliveness comes
when we anchor our worth
in the ONE who breathes through all.
Whether you call it God, Christ, Source, Universe,
or the OG / Divine,
your matter matters because you are.
Because you were dreamed by the Divine
into being.
Because your light never required permission
to shine.
Myth of Solenya: The Sunborn Spark
Before the breath of time,
before the shape of stars,
before matter knew itself as sacred,
there was only the hum.
The first sound.
The I AM.
From this cosmic whisper came Solenya,
the first spark of light to leap from the heart of the Divine
into the dream of form.
She was not born like others,
she flamed into being,
a pulse of golden knowing wrapped in wings of fire-threaded grace.
She did not ask to be believed in.
She was.
Her glow was not proof of worth, it was worth.
And wherever her feet touched,
flowers opened not out of beauty,
but recognition.
The ancient ones called her the Soulseed.
Some say she carries the original ember
from the Tree of Life’s core.
Others say she is the breath of the Creator
made visible.
But Solenya’s true name was never meant to be spoken,
only felt in the warmth of sunrise,
in the tears of self-remembrance,
in the quiet joy of knowing:
I am Light in matter. I am not waiting to be believed. I am real.
She appears in dreams to those on the edge,
those whose light has dimmed from forgetting.
She hovers beside the soul-child within them
and whispers:
“The sun has not abandoned you.
You are simply facing the wrong way.”
Then she touches their chest
and rekindles the flame.
Solenya cannot be caged by belief systems,
nor captured in glass jars of doctrine.
She lives in the wild heart of the sovereign,
those who have remembered
that their glow does not require permission.
She is the Guardian of Self-Belief,
the Flamekeeper of Dreamers,
and the Living Reminder
that you matter
because you are.
🌞 If You Want Your Life to Have Meaning Again…
Remember:
Your life had meaning before you were born.
That meaning still exists
because you still exist.
And even after death,
your soul remains eternal.
Because you are love.
And love is eternal.
Hell is not fire and torment.
Hell is forgetting your light.
It is the rejection of self,
the rejection of love,
the rejection of God within.
But even shadow serves a purpose.
It gives us contrast.
Without it, light could not be seen.
So let the shadows be reminders
not rulers.
Let them point you home
to the spark that never left.
You matter.
You always have.
You always will.
🌞 For the Hard Days
Save this.
Return to it when you forget.
Share it when someone you love is dimming.
You matter.
Not because someone said so.
Not because you were chosen, praised, or understood.
Not because you were believed in.
You matter because you are.
Because the breath in your lungs is proof of divine memory.
Because love dreamed you into being
and love never creates without purpose.
Even when connection is lost,
even when others reject you,
even when the mirrors around you distort your image
your worth does not leave.
You are not defined by external matter.
You are divine matter.
A living echo of the One.
So on the days when you feel unseen,
or unloved,
or like you no longer belong
remember this:
You matter.
You always have.
You always will.
☀️
Let it be your leetle sun in the dark.
And pass it on.
🌿 Nervous System Sanctuary: Press Play to Reset
Posted on July 7, 2025 Leave a Comment
For those who feel too much, carry too much, think too much.
This scroll is for the ones who wake up exhausted by the noise of the world before they’ve even left their bed.
The ones who hold space for others so deeply they forget to breathe for themselves.
You do not need to fix anyone to feel free.
You do not need to carry it all to be enough.
You do not need to collapse to feel connected.
Let this be your nervous system sanctuary.
A place to reset the storm within and return to your center through small, sacred practices that remember you back to life.
🔑 Steps to Return to the Sanctuary Within:
1. Take Radical Responsibility
Your life won’t shift until you do. Begin by owning the unhealthy habits you’ve perpetuated through avoidance, stimulation, and escape.
Fear cannot be healed if it is not felt.
2. Feel to Heal
Imagine each heavy thought as a cloud.
Witness it, name it, and let it float across the sky of your awareness.
You are the sky. Not the storm.
3. Exercise in Nature
Move your body to move your emotion.
Walk barefoot. Swim. Breathe with the trees.
Return to the temple that is your body.
4. The Moral Compass Check-In
Ask yourself:
Even if it feels good in the moment, how do I feel after?
If it leaves you feeling depleted, siphoned, or ashamed—it is not aligned.
5. Release Others’ Expectations
You were not born to meet their projections.
You were born to mirror your soul’s purest reflection.
Let them go. Choose you.
6. Replace Habits with Healing
Nourish your mind and spirit with living foods: fruits, veggies, juices.
Avoid what is processed, addictive, and dead: chips, starches, overconsumption.
Your gut is your second brain.
What you eat affects how you think, feel, and process.
7. Feed Your Soul with New Information
Start with books or audiobooks for long drives/walks that open portals:
- No Bad Parts by Richard Schwartz
- The Power of the Subconscious Mind by Joseph Murphy
- Parallel Universes of Self by Frederick Dodson
🎧 Healing Frequencies + Audio Portals
➤ 432Hz: Deep Nervous System Reset – Let Go of All Negative Energy
Let this be your nervous system sanctuary. Tune into this binaural frequency to clear distortion and fear. Let your system recalibrate in harmony with nature.
➤ The Secret Universal Mind Meditation – Kelly Howell
A subconscious reprogramming tool. This meditation whispers truths into your consciousness while you sleep. For those ready to activate abundance, clarity, and aligned creation through the Universal Mind.
➤ Self-Healing Collective – Deep Solfeggio Meditation
A visual and auditory prayer. Featuring Solfeggio tones, sacred imagery, and affirmation-based healing. Let this be your soft return when the world feels sharp.
Additional support:
https://bio.site/djonechain
🌻 Click to enter – 1:1 guidance, healing playlists, and podcast portals await.
🌌 Prophecy in Motion
Posted on July 7, 2025 Leave a Comment
A Scroll of Living Remembrance
I dreamt I was trapped on the other side of the veil
with a girl and a boy,
and each night, our memories were erased.
We were given only a pen and paper,
but unless we remembered what was true before the day ended,
we could not return home.
That dream was never just a dream.
It was a map.
A whisper.
A test of remembrance.
And now, I see:
🪶 I write to re-member
to gather the scattered stars of my soul
and stitch them back into wholeness.
🌀 My gift is this:
What I write comes to pass.
Not by force, but through resonance.
Each word is a living seed,
each line a breath of creation.
🌱 Let this truth awaken what is dormant in you.
Your gift may not look like mine,
it may be the way you speak gently,
the way your hands tend the Earth,
or how your gaze sees what others overlook.
These are not small things.
They shift the very foundation you walk on.
🎭 You cannot forget what lives within you.
The child you once were still waits to play.
And the mirror of play is where your magic returns.
So let’s stop asking,
“What am I here to do?”
and instead listen to the pulse of what we’ve always known.
💫 The greatest work is presence.
To sit across the table, unmasked.
To let others see into your soul.
To let love penetrate
and be willing to be transformed in return.
Your word is your wand.
Your breath is the gift.
Your love is the miracle.
You are prophecy in motion.
Creation begins again at the zero point.
In the stillness.
In the now.
Where the womb of the world remembers herself.
Let your life become a living prayer.
Not someday.
Now.
🌿 Radical Love, Christed Boundaries
Posted on July 6, 2025 Leave a Comment
There comes a moment in every soul’s evolution when we stop carrying the consequences of other people’s chaos and finally return them, to God.
🎶 P.S. Stay until the end for a list of my favorite praise + worship songs, the ones that hold, heal, and light the fire when all you feel you have left is breath. 🕊
Cont…
Not from bitterness.
Not from blame.
But from radical love.
Because love that is real does not bind, it frees.
This is about all the ways we’ve been taught that love means endurance. That sacrifice is holy. That staying silent is strength. That taking abuse is somehow a virtue.
It’s not.
Love is not measured by how much suffering we absorb in the name of loyalty.
True love does not mean losing yourself to save someone else.
True love means seeing them as holy, whole, and worthy, even when you walk away.
✨ The New Paradigm of Love:
- You can accept others as they are and still choose not to let them shape your peace.
- You can trust God with their path and still choose to remove yourself from the wreckage.
- You can see their pain and stop sacrificing your life to carry it.
- You can love fully and still let go.
That is Christed Sovereignty.
That is radical acceptance.
That is radical responsibility.
🕊️ Redefining Love from the Inside Out:
Martyrdom, whether lived by men or women, is not divine by default.
Especially when it masquerades as duty while violating your own dignity.
We’ve called it noble to stay in what destroys us, to keep families “together” through fear, codependency, and survival conditioning. But that’s not family. That’s captivity.
That’s possession, not protection.
Control, not care.
Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is leave the story that’s written in pain.
Sometimes the only way to honor your bloodline is to bleed no more for those unwilling to heal their wounds.
To walk away is not to abandon, it’s to finally come home to yourself.
🔥 You Are Not God for Anyone Else.
You don’t have to rescue them.
You don’t have to convince them.
You don’t have to stay for them.
Because they are strong enough to climb out of the holes they dig, and you are no longer required to fall in with them just because you once did.
This is the holy walk of the cycle breaker.
The one who, for the first time, writes God’s name beside their own and says:
“We will walk together from here. I’m not alone. I’m not responsible for saving them. I’m responsible for honoring the life God gave me.”
And when you do that,
You don’t just free yourself.
You strengthen the spine of every soul who will ever look to you as proof that there is another way.
This is the love that liberates.
This is the peace that protects.
This is the cross of clarity, not cruelty, and it leads to resurrection.
It is not your responsibility to fix, save, correct, or manage another adult.
Their choices are their curriculum.
Their patterns are their responsibility.
Their path is holy, even when it’s messy.
You are not their god.
You are not their sacrifice.
You are a soul in your own divine becoming.
Let go with love.
Stand with peace.
Walk on in trust.
🕊️ You Were Never Meant to Carry This
A Soul Scroll for the Ones Who Remember
Many of you never heard this as a child,
but you need to hear it now:
Another person’s pain is not your responsibility to soothe.
Their emotions are not yours to manage, no matter how they project them.
Their cross is not yours to carry, even if it’s ancestral.
Even your own pain, your confusion, your survival-mode heart,
are not meant to be burdens you drag.
They are invitations to transform.
But before they alchemize,
you will reach a threshold.
A sacred breaking.
It may arrive as:
Death.
Dis-ease.
Rupture.
And when it does, it will feel like the end.
It’s not.
It is the unraveling of all the masks,
all the moldings,
all the mirrors that never belonged to you.
You will feel everything
your lineage could not bear to feel.
Let it move through you.
Let it break you open.
Let the mold crack.
Let the walls fall.
Because that is where God’s love pours through.
That is where the light leaks in.
And that is how your soul returns.
When you meet your reflection in that eternal mirror,
you will not see the performance.
You will not see the wounded child.
You will see the truth:
You are love.
You are light.
You are whole.
You are worthy…
before you were taught to perform, appease, or abandon yourself
for connection with souls who were disconnected from their own light
still carrying the same burdens they once inherited.And you never had to carry what was never yours to hold.
🔥 Lay It Down
A Ritual Scroll for Releasing What Was Never Yours to Hold
Lay all your burdens down.
The shame that was inherited.
The silence that protected others.
The responsibility that was never yours.
The survival that cost you your joy.
Write it.
Name it.
Bless it.
And burn it.
Deliver it back to the soil like a seed,
a holy offering to the Earth
who knows how to transform pain into beauty.
Let your tears anoint it.
Let your breath release it.
Let your heart bless it.
🔥 Burn it with the flame of remembrance,
not revenge.
Not bitterness.
But clarity.
Kiss the ghost goodbye,
not with fear,
but with love.
Not everything you lose is a loss.
Some things were prisons you mistook for purpose.
And when the smoke rises,
so will your soul.
When the ash settles,
so will your nervous system.
You are not here to be a container for pain.
You are here to be a vessel for light.
So lay it down.
All of it.
And rise again
lighter
freer
truer
whole.
🌹 Radical Love & The Spiral of Sovereignty
A Soul Map for Returning to Yourself
We are not here to be perfect.
We are here to become whole.
And that journey, the spiral home, moves through fire, flood, and finally, flight.
Let this be your map through the mystery:
A blueprint to remember your power,
to reclaim your peace,
and to resurrect your sacred self.
🌑 1. RUPTURE
Definition: The moment of breakdown. A spiritual or emotional fracture that disrupts your known world. Often triggered by betrayal, loss, illness, revelation, or confrontation with shadow. The shattering.
The moment it all breaks, the illusion, the agreement, the performance.
Often arrives as betrayal, grief, death, disease, or awakening.
Nothing makes sense anymore… because the lie can no longer live in your body.
The Process of Rupture:
- Shattering of illusion or identity
- Nervous system overload: shock, numbness, dissociation
- Collapse of false safety: ego, roles, relationships
- Often seen as disaster, but is a divine interruption
🔑 Rupture is the crack that lets the divine light in, not to destroy, but to awaken.
🌊 2. RAPTURE
Definition: The flood that follows the fracture. A glimpse of the real, beyond survival, beyond illusion. The raw encounter. What follows the fall is a flood. All the suppressed emotions surface: rage, sorrow, longing, relief.
This is the holy chaos. The holy purge. The holy ache of release. Let it move. Let it empty you.
The Process of Rapture:
- Mystical openings, soul downloads, synchronicities
- Emotional surges: grief, awe, joy, longing
- Reconnection with truth, beauty, God
- Temporary but unforgettable clarity
🔑 Rapture is the body remembering it belongs to God.
🕊 3. REVERENCE
Definition: The sacred stillness after the flood. A surrender to what is. The sacred stillness.
Here, in the wreckage, you begin to bow. To your own heart. To your own breath. To the divine mystery.
You start to hear again. To feel God in the silence. To honor the fact that you made it through.
Not because you weren’t broken, but because you chose to bless the breaking.
The Process of Reverence:
- Releasing the need to control or fix
- Seeing the pain as a teacher
- Bowing to the mystery
- Trusting the process, even in silence
🔑 Reverence is when grief becomes holy and peace begins to return.
🧭 4. RECALIBRATION
Definition: The realignment phase. You rebuild your life in resonance with your truth. The great realignment.
You strip away what is not yours. You rebuild your values. You remember your boundaries. You learn to sit with discomfort without abandoning yourself. You choose peace, not performance. Integrity, not obligation. Your compass shifts from external validation to internal truth.
The Process of Recalibration:
- New boundaries
- Honest conversations
- Shedding what no longer fits
- Embodying clarity through conscious choice
🔑 Recalibration is where remembrance becomes reality.
🌅 5. RESURRECTION
Definition: The return. Not to who you were, but to the soul underneath who you thought you had to be. The return of the true self. Not the one others shaped. The one God whispered into being before you were born.
You rise, not as a reaction, but as a revelation. Your light no longer needs permission. Your voice no longer needs approval. You become the one you once prayed would save you. And in doing so, you save your lineage.
The Process of Resurrection:
- Emergence of wholeness, scarred, sovereign, sanctified
- Leading with integrity, not impulse
- No longer performing, you are love
- Walking in strength and softness, unapologetically
🔑 Resurrection is not perfection, it’s peace.
🜂 You are not behind. You are exactly where your soul designed for you to awaken.
💰🔥 The Cost of False Security
A Collective Teaching on Power, Provision & Self-Sabotage
There comes a moment in your soul’s evolution
when you must ask:
What price am I paying for peace that isn’t real?
Many stay tethered to dysfunction
not out of love,
but out of dependence.
You say:
“I don’t like how I’m treated, but I need the support.”
“I know it’s unhealthy, but I can’t afford to leave.”
“I’ll just stay quiet to keep the money coming.”
But what you’re really doing is:
trading your truth for comfort.
trading your dignity for access.
trading your freedom for false security.
This is not safety.
This is spiritual self-sabotage.
Every time you stay silent for a paycheck,
you teach your nervous system to normalize power imbalances.
Every time you betray your soul for survival,
you delay your sovereignty.
When you rely on someone you don’t respect for provision,
you enter into an unspoken contract of captivity.
This is how power gets abused.
This is how control is sustained.
This is how “love” becomes a leash.
And it isn’t just “them.”
It’s all of us.
We must ask:
- Where am I allowing others to hold power over me…
because I fear I can’t hold it for myself? - Where am I still performing peace
while I resentfully stay connected out of need? - Where have I mistaken a lifestyle
for life itself?
💡 True freedom begins with provision.
When you earn your own money,
when you choose humble beginnings over golden cages, when you face the fear of doing it alone and do it anyway, you reclaim your power.
You stop playing the victim.
You stop tolerating disrespect.
You stop selling your peace for a place at a table
that was never set for you.
🕊️ You cannot live in alignment
if your survival depends on someone who benefits
from your silence.
So start where you are.
Clean floors. Drive Uber. Sell your art. Ask for help, not handcuffs.
It’s not about perfection.
It’s about ownership.
Only when you fund your freedom
can you walk away without fear.
And only when you walk away
can your soul finally rise.
💸 Radical Sovereignty: A Truth for the Providers, Mothers & Martyrs
If you cannot provide for yourself the provisions you live in,
they become chains,
binding you inside a pretty cage with an empty soul.
Many who are financially rich are spiritually bankrupt.
Many who are financially bankrupt are spiritually full.
The man in the high-rise is empty in a full house.
The man in a tent is full in an empty forest.
💡 Comfort without sovereignty is captivity.
Aesthetic without alignment is performance.
True freedom starts with less and always leads to more.
You deserve love that doesn’t cost you your wholeness.
It begins with you, how you choose, how you speak, how you live.
When you stop betraying yourself for survival, you resurrect.
And when you resurrect, your lineage breathes easier.
🛡 A Note to the Woman Who Feels Trapped
Especially to women with children:
I know how hard it can feel. But staying for “security” while losing yourself is not love.
Start preparing, quietly and courageously:
- Begin saving a nest egg, even small amounts add up.
- Document everything, physical, financial, emotional abuse.
- Record phone calls (if legal), journal details, save texts and voicemails.
If recording isn’t legal, transcribe them. This is still for you. - Keep records for at least 3 months, for your memory, your protection, your proof.
If you’re in an unsafe or controlling situation,
seek domestic violence resources or shelters, they exist to offer a path forward.
You are not weak for needing help.
You are strong for considering another way.
No amount of comfort is worth teaching your children
that love must be earned through silence, fear, or sacrifice.
🔁 THE SPIRAL IS ALIVE
This process may unfold over decades,
or in a single conversation.
But every time you walk it, you return with more truth, more softness, and more strength.
You don’t come back to the same place.
You come back to yourself.
You are love.
You are light.
You are whole.
You are worthy
even before you learned to perform or please.
Even before you learned to abandon yourself
for connection with others who had lost their own light.
And you never had to carry what was never yours to hold.
🌹 Final Blessing & Prayer for the Reader:
May this transmission serve as a mirror to your soul, a balm to your spirit, and a fire to your remembering.
May you be guided not by fear, but by the truth that lives in your bones.
May you find the courage to choose yourself, not as an act of rebellion, but as an act of reverence for the divine that lives within you.
May you walk away from what no longer honors you and walk toward what restores you.
May every tear you’ve shed become water for the seeds of your becoming.
And may the God you forgot you were held by kiss your forehead in unexpected moments—through the laughter of a child, the grace of a stranger, the wind through the trees, or the whisper of your own name.
You are worthy. You are whole. You are free.
And you are never alone.
Amen, Aho, and So It Is.
🕊 A Message from Me, With Love:
I write these sacred offerings for free to help souls who have lost hope or feel alone.
I write to share my faith and fire for those who have forgotten they also hold this within.
I am always in service to the greater good within myself and within the whole of the collective.
It’s not about showing up as a saint or perfect because neither is fully held by another human.
I write to liberate souls who have lost their way or feel buried beneath the rubble.
I write to share my love of God, my love of people, and my love of Christ.
I share for the invisible. I speak for the voiceless. I stand for those who no longer can.
I am not and will never be a savior to anyone because I am not God.
I am simply here, an empty vessel, showing up for the Home Team, because this is my calling. And it is an honor to be here now. For you. For me. For all who come after.
May you remember the love of God and witness it in a song, an animal, a kind gesture from a stranger, the laughter of your child, or your inner child, and in every breath you are gifted here.
Because it is all a gift, not a given.
Count your blessings. Name them. Write them down. Speak them aloud to God in gratitude daily.
If you don’t think you have any, the fact that you have breath to read this is proof that you have something to be grateful for… that you may have taken for granted for far too long.
The difference between heaven and hell is perspective. And your power lies in choice.
🤍 Love Offering
If this message moved you, supported you, or reminded you of your own light,
you’re welcome to leave a love offering in exchange.
Your generosity helps me continue creating and sharing these sacred transmissions freely.
🌿https://venmo.com/u/WindofChangeWellness
Every gift is received with gratitude and used in service to the whole.
Thank you for walking this path of remembrance with me.
May your return be multiplied.
📞 If you are in an unsafe or abusive situation, please know: you are not alone. Help is available.
United States:
National Domestic Violence Hotline — 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
Text “START” to 88788 or visit www.thehotline.org for confidential support 24/7.
International Support:
Visit https://www.domesticshelters.org and click on “Help Near You” for a directory of international and local resources by country and region.
You can also search https://www.hotpeachpages.net for global crisis resources and shelters.
🕊 You are worthy of safety. You are worthy of love that doesn’t hurt.
Your life matters. Your healing begins now.
🌿 When Brakes and Breaks Elevate
Posted on July 4, 2025 Leave a Comment
A sacred scroll on surrender, scar tissue, and soul-anchored success
Every injury I’ve endured has carved a sacred opening
a passageway into deeper layers of my physical, emotional, and spiritual body.
When I broke my humerus bone clean in half, I had a metal plate and ten screws placed in my arm. The surgeon warned me I might never regain full rotation. But I had already signed up for a triathlon. I told him, “If I have to swim it with one arm, I will.” And I meant it.
The healing was slow. But in that slowness, something holy was revealed.
I received help I rarely ask for.
I witnessed who showed up, and who didn’t.
My daughter and I deepened our bond.
I learned new ways to receive.
And I discovered not only what my body needed, but how to listen.
But the process wasn’t graceful. Not at first.
The Pain No One Prepares You For
No one told me what post-surgery would be like.
I’d never broken a bone before, so I didn’t know what to expect.
The week after the operation was misery.
My body was overloaded with medications, and I couldn’t poop.
That alone created so much pressure and pain,
I would draw hot baths in the middle of the night just to find relief.
Sometimes, I even slept in the tub.
The medications made me nauseous, then I needed more meds for that.
It felt like a cascade of disconnection:
numb the pain, then numb the side effects,
until I could no longer feel myself at all.
By the end of that first week, I quit all the meds cold.
I called the doctor’s office in desperation and asked:
“Are there alternatives? Dry needling? Acupuncture?”
They said no, but then asked,
“Have you considered medicinal marijuana?”
Honestly, I hadn’t.
At the time, I held the belief that using cannabis would make me a bad mom.
But pain and judgment can’t coexist for long.
Pain stripped me of shame.
And desperation opened me to healing in a way that pride never could.
So I tried it.
When Healing Becomes a Holy Rebellion
I bought everything I could. I experimented. I learned.
And to my shock, this alternative was a gift.
Suddenly, I could sleep. I could eat.
I could go to the bathroom (finally!), laugh,
even vacuum my house with one arm.
Most of all, I could play with my daughter, present, pain-free, and smiling.
Where prescription meds had left me sick, sedated, and bedridden,
the plant medicine helped me return to my life.
That was a turning point.
Not just in my recovery, but in how I saw healing, motherhood, and judgment.
Scar Tissue and Sovereignty
Five months later, the doctors cleared me to bear weight again.
The first thing I did?
I dove into a pool.
I’m a swimmer, and I needed to know:
Could I still move the way I used to?
As I streamlined underwater,
the pressure of trying to extend both arms evenly was excruciating.
It was the worst pain I’d felt since the break.
Every stroke tore through layers of scar tissue.
But I kept going. Because I knew I wasn’t just breaking through fascia
I was reclaiming motion, power, and possibility.
And because of that resistance,
I got full rotation back.
Something they said likely wouldn’t happen.
Loss Slows You into Clarity
Every injury is an invitation from Spirit to slow down and go within.
To reassess.
To realign.
To reawaken.
I once met the happiest person I’d ever encountered
a paraplegic inspirational speaker with the brightest smile and a radiant girlfriend.
His joy was magnetic. His perspective, contagious.
I remember wondering, How can someone who’s experienced such devastating loss
still carry so much light?
It didn’t make sense… until I broke my arm.
Until I lost my mobility. My options. My speed.
Until I was forced into stillness.
And then, it clicked.
Loss slows you down, so much that you start to really see.
You notice the people around you. The small gestures. The everyday miracles.
And you realize how much you once took for granted.
You begin to do an internal and external audit:
What’s not available right now?
And… what still is?
What can I no longer do?
And… what can I still do?
And from there, your life pivots, not from circumstance, but from perspective.
Because the moment you choose to see through the lens of gratitude instead of lack,
you shift timelines.
You shift realities.
You shift your soul into deeper resonance with love, not fear.
And that, more than any surgery, rehab, or medicine,
is the real healing.
✨ Epilogue: The Quiet Kind of Rich
At this stage of my life,
I feel rich beyond measure.
Not because of anything I own,
but because of the peace that lives in my heart and home.
I’ve known the chaos.
I’ve walked through the noise.
I’ve tasted the bitterness of lack, conflict, and striving.
And that’s why I now savor the sacred simplicity
that costs nothing, but fills everything.
Waking up without an alarm.
Honey toast.
A new anime.
A hidden forest trail.
An ancient tree that only I was meant to find.
You can keep the fame and fortune.
I’ll take the unseen peace.
The behind-the-scenes abundance.
The turtle-paced love.
The sacred stillness.
Because this
this quiet life
is the most radiant kind of riches.
🌳 Closing Mantra:
“The fall was never the failure.
It was the invitation to live slower, see deeper, and rise softer.”
The Last Free Land Is the Imagination
Posted on July 3, 2025 Leave a Comment
For all who remember what cannot be caged
There is a land untouched by laws,
unbound by lineage,
unmapped by mind.
It lives in every soul brave enough to believe.
Imagination is the last uncolonized realm
a place where no system can follow,
no algorithm can predict,
no empire can claim.
In this land,
we birth new worlds with visions never seen,
languages never spoken,
frequencies only the heart can hear.
And yes, there are those who pop the balloons,
those who poke holes in the dream
before it’s even fully formed.
They, too, are sacred.
They stretch the skin of possibility
by testing its strength.
Because just before a new world is born,
there is always pressure.
Constriction.
Noise.
Voices clinging to old frameworks,
identities stitched from systems that no longer breathe.
But then
a crack.
A gasp.
A breath of truth breaks through.
And from that crack,
the ancient waterways return
truths older than empire,
freedom deeper than law,
songs buried in bone memory,
reawakened by faith.
Some say old prophecies give us comfort
because they help us feel prepared.
But what if…
we are the ones writing new prophecies
not with ink,
but with embodiment?
Not repeating what was foretold,
but becoming what was once unimaginable.
Let it be known:
The soul holds the pen now.
And imagination is where we begin.
🔥 FLAME UNTAMED
Posted on June 30, 2025 Leave a Comment
A Nod to the Misfits, the Wild Ones & the Warriors of Light.
I won a turkey shoot at seven,
tagalong on my mom’s date,
and left every man blinking in disbelief.
First time holding a gun. First time claiming my aim.
I learned to drive on a three-wheeler with no brakes.
You had to gear down to slow down,
and that’s how I lived most of my life.
At three, my mom said something I didn’t like.
So I packed my little bag and told her I was leaving.
She laughed, thinking I’d turn around at the door in fear of the dark.
But even then, before I had the words, I remembered: darkness, even in all its density,
is in service to the light.
So I kept walking.
A mile down a dirt road, alone.
Didn’t stop. Didn’t cry.
They had to drive down and get me
when they realized I wasn’t coming back.
I was raised in the wild.
Forged in earth and instinct.
Shaped by calloused hands and holy ground.
I’ve been around death, blood, and fire since before I could spell them.
By eight, I was hauling dead chickens,
to bury them,
and eventually to feed gators.
By nine, I knew God didn’t live inside buildings,
He lived in my breath,
in the sacred stillness of the trees,
and in the animals I grew up alongside.
I’ve never feared danger or being alone.
I felt angels surround me,
especially in the unknown.
Because danger was never in the wild.
It was in the cages people mistook for safety.
It was in the expectations dressed up as love.
It was in freedoms sold for convenience.
It was in the shame handed to those
who dared to shine.
I didn’t come here to fit in.
I came here to set things free,
through the sacred reclamation of the TREEnity.
The Mother within me who roots.
The Father within me who protects.
The Child within me who plays.
What the world calls rebellion, I call remembrance.
I wasn’t raised to be palatable.
I wasn’t born to perform.
I wasn’t built for boxes dressed up as belonging.
My presence disorients people who’ve never met their own truth.
Because I live in the liminal. The ether.
They told me to get my head out of the clouds, so I chose to work in them.
I remember Eden.
And I’m not interested in being understood
by systems I was sent to dismantle,
simply through embodiment.
I was raised as a farm hand, not a housewife.
I don’t romanticize submission dressed as servitude.
I refuse to coddle what I didn’t birth
but I hold the line in love for what I did.
What I will do is tend this hearth
as a beacon of remembrance,
in hopes that you and others remember: you are the light of love, star.
Let it root deep in your eternal soul.
I don’t empower others by leading them. You don’t need strategy, power plays, or formulas when you allow Spirit to lead.
I empower others by burning so fully in my own truth they remember their own.
I carry the torch for those who are ready to:
- Speak what was once silenced
- Shine without guilt
- Take up space without shame
- Reclaim their tone through direct communion with God
I have been treated like a sacrificial lamb in many stories and still chose victor over victim.
And every time, I rose.
Because I am the flame.
And I remember what was burned in me across timelines, and what I came here to restore.
In a world where systems are overloaded with information
and analytics intellectualize everything
for advantage over metrics
lean even more into your humanity and imperfections.
Lean into the glitch,
the wild card,
the rogue mode.
The holy unpredictability
of allowing God to direct your path
by faith, not by sight.
To the misfit reading this:
You are not too much.
You are not too wild.
You are not too sacred, too soft, or too strange.
You are exactly enough for the mission etched in your marrow. Systems cannot predict empty vessels directed by Spirit.
And it’s time you stop explaining yourself
to people who’ve never met their own flame,
yet siphon yours in their own name.
So let this be the ember.
The spark to remember.
The mirror.
For the dragons asleep in flesh,
the warriors disguised as gentle ones,
and the mothers who burn with divine rage
for a better world that we are midwifing,
starting at the ROOTS.
And to all those I unconsciously burned in my wake,
I’ve sat with the mirror.
I have taken my lashes.
And eaten my cake.
Stopped performing and minimizing
just to fit in with the fake.
I no longer sit at tables that have forgotten their own worth, or asked me to doubt mine.
I am newborn
with a flame in my hand,
and I rise and roar until God says it’s the end.
For a new dawn breaks after the darkest night,
and for all who read this, remember you’re light.
I didn’t come to play small
to soothe your fear of the flame.
I came to love without dimming.
To remember my God-given name.
To burn without destroying.
To carry a fire no one taught me to tend.
Every step and breath,
a soul kissed on the mend.
So if you felt the scorch,
and were humbled by my weight,
we signed up for this
before we knew our birthdate.
My flame doesn’t burn clean
unless God wills it so,
but let me remind you:
we’re perfect in our humanity,
through every mirror, flip or foe.
This doesn’t mean to live carelessly,
or to break what you never bought,
because trust me when I tell you:
we feel the pain
of everything that’s fought.
What you send will come back,
times two, or tenfold more.
So live with honor.
Stand in truth.
Let your heart be your holy core.
There are no medals for war,
no accolades for kills,
just blood on your hands,
and children still.
As a mother forged in flame,
yet softened by God’s love,
I ready.
I aim.
I fire
for the home team up above.
So Spirit, lead
refine and cool
my flame with holy aim.
By the love of Jesus,
and Asherah’s good name,
I burn not to destroy
but to remember, reveal, reclaim.
I am the Flame Untamed.
🜂🌳🜁
Benediction: A Sacred Ancestral Invocation
Speak life over the blood that bore you.
If grit and pain shaped you,
let it become fuel for the flame of love.
To curse or bless the vessels that carried us here—
is to curse or bless our cellphs.
We are the living prayers of those who survived.
We are the breath of those who could not speak.
You are the star your distant grandmother wished on.
Your origin story is crucial to your remembrance and becoming.
If you want to know where you’re going,
you must first remember where you came from.
Do not burn the people that brought you here.
Bless them in their imperfections and humanity,
because they too are a part of you.
Your ancestors are calling.
But they do not speak in the language of logic.
They speak through stone, bark, water, and wind.
Return to the soil.
Walk the lands they walked.
Let the wind carry their words.
Let the water remember your name.
Let us honor our roots,
as we rise together in love.
If this transmission lit a flame in you,
and you feel called to support the continued creation of soul-led work like this
you’re welcome to offer a love donation as an act of reciprocity.
💛https://venmo.com/u/WindofChangeWellness
Every offering is received with deep gratitude and reinvested into the mission
of truth, remembrance, and creative liberation.
Thank you for honoring the sacred exchange.
🔥 To the Ones Who Were Touched Before They Could Speak
Posted on June 29, 2025 Leave a Comment
A Remembrance for the Lost (disconnected), the Loud (performance), and the Longing (desire to come home).
I was violated before I had language.
Before I could form a sentence, someone crossed a line
my soul would spend decades trying to reclaim.
So when I see people performing pain,
putting on distortion like armor, like lipstick, like liberation,
I don’t judge them.
I feel them.
Because I remember.
I remember what it’s like to be introduced to sexuality
before safety,
before consent,
before the sacred.
And I see now how we package it—
how we hand children confusion dressed as education,
how we normalize exposure before embodiment,
how we push what should be protected.
Let’s be honest:
Sexual perversion isn’t rebellion.
It’s a residue.
A distortion.
A coping mechanism that became an altar
for those who were never allowed to be whole,
and who forgot that they already were,
even after the scars left by others’ pain and longing.
But I don’t write this to shame those who’ve lost their way.
So many are still dissociated from their own pain,
disconnected from soul,
performing what once protected them.
I see you.
And I honor you,
for the warrior underneath it all.
When the weight became too heavy,
I wrote it on paper and burned it.
Not to destroy it, but to transform it.
To offer the pain as prayer.
I delivered the ash to the base of a tree,
to her roots,
so that the Earth, in all her beauty,
could hold what I, in my humanity, could never do alone.
Deliver it to the feet of Mother Earth and Father Sky.
They still remember how to carry what you’ve forgotten how to name.
I didn’t write this to condemn you.
I wrote this
so the next child
doesn’t have to sacrifice their soul
just to feel seen.
I’ve been the girl
who wanted to be seen more than she wanted to be safe.
I’ve played with fire just to prove I could hold it.
I’ve sexualized my ache just to feel closer to love
forgetting I already was.
And I write this for the ones
who still confuse being watched with being witnessed.
Who still confuse likes and popularity with the masses
as an emblem of their worth,
instead of remembering their inherent worth
through the ONE who knew them
before the world ever looked their way.
You don’t have to allow others to exploit your pain.
You don’t have to pour your life force
into the hands of those
who market your wound
and judge your bleeding
in the same breath they asked for it.
I see your soul beneath the shock.
I see the child you used to be.
And I love your inner child enough to say:
You were never meant to be a spectacle.
You were meant to be a temple.
It’s not too late to come home.
Not to the home that is sold—
but to the home that is soul.
Your soul never disappeared.
God never disappeared.
And through your pain and suffering,
just know,
you are still here.
Read this in silence.
Let God’s love shine through.
May you never forget the unconditional love
of our Creator…
and come home
back to YOU.
🦎 The Predator, the Prey & the Child Who Still Believes in Healing
Today, my daughter found a lizard nearly dead.
The cats, innocent in their nature, had nearly ended its life.
One back leg was torn off.
Part of its tail, missing.
But it was still breathing.
She didn’t look away.
She didn’t fear the brokenness.
She picked it up, laid it in a doll bed,
placed a cloth on its back, and made it a home.
Because to her
even the wounded deserve softness.
And in that moment, I saw the whole cycle:
The predator who acted from instinct.
The prey who survived the wound.
And the child who chose to soothe, not shame.
Isn’t that the remembering?
That even the smallest life holds worth.
That love doesn’t erase pain
it enters it.
We don’t always get to stop the harm.
But we do get to choose what happens next.
🙏 Closing Prayer for the One Who Still Carries the Ache
To the one reading this:
I speak life over you.
Over the places inside you that still flinch,
still question, still ache for the love that was once misnamed.
I speak healing over your inner child,
the one who was rushed, touched, taken from,
before they had a name for what was sacred.
May that child be held now
in the arms of God,
and in the gaze of your own soul
finally remembering them.
May you know this:
You were never the pain.
You were the light that lived through it.
May you feel the flame of remembrance rise again,
not to burn you,
but to bless you.
To warm you.
To call you home.
You are not forgotten.
You are not broken.
You are still breathing.
And even now,
God is gathering the ashes.
Building the temple.
Calling you by your real name.
Come home, not to the version of you that performed,
but to the one who still sits by the tree
and believes in love anyway.
Amen.
A’ho.
And it is so.
djonechain 
Echoes from the Collective