The song of the hidden twins, created by the source. Chapter one in this stream! Enjoy its an epic saga

So, to start, let's define some meanings. Omnism is the belief that all religions contain some truth, with no single one holding a monopoly on ultimate reality, and that these faiths often share common goals or wisdom, even if their specific doctrines differ. An omnist recognizes and respects various spiritual paths. I am not an omnist.

Similarly, the Quran encourages, “Indeed, with hardship [will be] ease” (Quran 94:6). This simple, profound truth reminds me that struggles are not permanent. There is always a way forward, and often, in the midst of my greatest challenges, seeds of opportunity and growth are planted. These words help me frame setbacks not as endings, but as necessary steps in the journey toward something better.

This poem/prayer was originally written as the intro to a blog post on rantingsofasouthernmadwoman.wordpress.com.

This was originally written for a contest. The prompt was that it had to start with the line "something was moving in the dark".

swords cut they damage they hurt they kill . sword's comfort they heal they feel they're real. sword's glide thru the air swiftly and smoothly with precision. Before speaking please make the right decision. words from the unseen.

Devine Paths have a cause, and for the earth it's the sole Navigator Leif Erikson and his trust in the universe to be part of a major Cataclysmic change in the earth, allowing everyone their consciousness to be restored. You can't expect peace and prosperity after this still, you'll be forgiven if you did, despite Devine awakenings people can be corrupted if they get their hands on the wrong things. Leif Erikson here is our main wheel to get the gears turning in this Alternate Universe

A girl named Amber looks for her dog Scount, but discovers a dead cat in a tree with its neck broken instead...

I’m empty now and I need to keep throwing coal into the furnace or it’ll consume me. My grief, my loneliness and my guilt will burn me from the inside until I’m charred throughout. You know sometimes, even hours after my last cigarette, I’ll exhale and see the faint wisp of smoke.

It felt like I was the only person in the room without a script. I was unknowingly cast in a psychological thriller where every day brought a new betrayal or a mind game so absurd it defied logic. From a friend’s girlfriend screaming accusations about my husband out of thin air to being falsely accused of an affair myself, I was trapped in a cycle of "psychological warfare." I watched as the people I loved chose to believe the most toxic voices in the room over mine. Amidst addiction and emotional shredding, the gaslighting became so constant I began to second-guess my own eyes and ears. This wasn't a life; it was a soap opera with no exit and no director. Surrounded by manipulators who fed on chaos, I was left screaming from the inside for a rescue that never came. In the end, I realized no one was coming to save me—I had to crawl out of that hell on my own. "It wasn't a relationship anymore. It was survival.”

It started with a message that shattered my reality: "I never really liked you... I only wanted your man." What follows is a descent into a gut-wrenching, paranoid kind of "crazy" that happens when the people you trust most begin to gaslight you. When I confronted my husband, he swore it was a lie. When I confronted the woman, she claimed she never sent the message at all. Caught in a web of shifting stories and hidden motives, I began to question my own memory and sanity. This is more than a story of potential infidelity; it is an exploration of emotional disintegration. Amidst a backdrop of addiction and grief, I found myself drowning in a sea of manipulation where everyone was handing me anchors instead of lifelines, and then had the nerve to ask why I couldn’t swim. "The seed of doubt doesn’t just rot your relationship, it infects your mind."

Some call it intuition, but I call it a curse. It’s a cold wind before a storm, a "knowing" that arrives in dreams before the world caves in. I felt the grief in my lungs days before my grandma died in a scene that defied logic. A month later, I dreamed of my dad’s death, the lake, the ambulance, the vanishing ghost of my grandmother leading me to his body. Two weeks later, I dreamed of his funeral. The next day, he was gone, found in the same bathroom where we lost her. When the only two real people in my life vanished, reality went with them. The world began to feel staged, the people around me like actors in a movie. My children spoke of things they shouldn't know, and I realized the curtain had been pulled back. I saw the ending before the story began, and now, the mask is off for good. This is the burden of dreaming death before it arrives, and the chilling reality of what happens when you can finally see behind the veil.

While others see anxiety, I see data. This isn't just a story about a busy mind; it’s an exploration of the hyper-analytical instinct, the ability to hear what isn’t said, to feel a lie before it’s finished, and to predict the ending of a story before the first chapter concludes. In this article, we dive into the "curse" of observation: the weight of remembering every detail, the exhaustion of constant simulation, and the lonely reality of seeing truths that others prefer to leave in the dark. It’s a look at why some of us don’t just walk through the world, we deconstruct it, piece by piece, as a means of survival. "I don't overthink. I analyze. And I've already seen the ending.

On the day we celebrate Harriet Bedell, a deaconess of the Episcopal Church (TEC), we remember a woman whose quiet courage opened space for dignity, healing, and hope. From Alaska to the Florida Everglades, Bedell lived as though every person bore the image of God. The story of her life invites us to consider where we, too, are being called to walk with faith and trust. This reflection, the first in our 2026 series Stories That Open Space: Women Who Walked Ahead, explores Bedell’s legacy, spiritual practices shaped by her witness, and the gentle beginning of a year that asks us to listen, to show up, and to make room for holy possibility.

Every soul is born with a unique pattern, yet the world constantly invites us to trade that pattern for approval. From a Hermetic and magickal perspective, the tension between individuality and conformity is not just psychological—it is alchemical.

Hello everyone, welcome to my live stream. I hope you’re doing well. Today, I want to talk about something very important — believing in yourself. If you ever feel stuck, tired, or unsure about your future, this stream is for you.”

If I had the chance To see my younger self. Id hold her tight. Tighter than anyone ever had. Id show her the love she missed out on. Id tell her she's going to go thru Some horrible things. But in the end you'll become and have something That makes it all worth it. That she'll find a love That makes her comfortable And confident And happy. She will finally be happy. All she has to do is hold on. She'll have someone who hugs her So tight that all her broken pieces Come back together. I won't tell her everything is going to be ok. Because that isn't true. I will tell her There are some horrible things But they turn you into Something that is rare, Something everyone wants.

While reading the Bible I have noticed the ample references to wine but not much for hard liquor, especially rum.

Can you imagine remembering your birth and how many times you’ve gone through the birth experience,well that’s where my story begins.

The ethical and environmental crises humanity faces are not merely political or technological but noetic. They arise from disharmony in the field of thought—from patterns of perception in conflict with the interdependence of life. Healing the Earth thus requires transforming consciousness itself, awakening the collective mind to its inherent unity with Gaia and the One Mind.