Born again BDays, Lion gates and things one chooses to celebrate.

silhouette of woman holding moon Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Must admit, I have a lot of birth days, spiritually.

We die many times in this life if we’re doing it right, and the energy of rebirth rises when we do on the daily.

In my opinion, that vibratory experience of rebirth demands to be embraced allatime… so I do just that.

Why shirk off the shit that you know damn well brought your ass back to life?

Instead of (or at least collectively alongside) commemorating atomic bombs and bloody sundays, the idea of celebrating days you were reminded that this entire enterprise can indeed be Holy may feel awkward initially.

It’s because in the 3D society that is evolving all around us to higher frequencies we’ve been programmed to celebrate the death and destructive tendencies of things as if that dirging and despairing aspect is more sacrosanct than all else.

Those who don’t Do that are often seen as disrespectful, disruptive, dishonest somehow for choosing not to worship the noir in life.

Even in “the church” construct there is a very hard line amongst believers following Christ:

Those who lean hard into the deplorable violence of the kinesthetic symphony that is the Stations of the Cross as a unit, whose entire interpretation of Jesus is in their face as a bloody and beaten repository of pain, trapped in theology that worships the worse in us no matter the latin words hummed to the contrary, a belief system intent on leaving them on their knees at the altar, wormlike in their minds, guilt-ridden and readily gullible to receive brute force from more despotic entities that are more than willing to wield dogma like a mace to keep traditionally fucked up statuses up to date;

& those who connected with the consciousness he came here with and went literally through hell in order to leave “here” with intact, the “He is risen” dude, the motherfucker “who went to hell, kicked some tail, grabbed some keys(to be used later by him to unlock cages that anything that called on him found themselves trapped within), then came back roaring “Look yall…all is well! Pay attention! & Yall are going to do wilder shit than I’ve done(due to the tech abounding when ya asses portal in, perhaps)…I’m out! Peace!”

… then dropped his mic & took his ass back home.

It’s a DEATH cult that quietly champions abusing women and children vs a Cult of “get the fuck back up and geterdone regarding what ya came here for so you can come home happily! “

On August 8th, 2002…

I recognized that the High Voltage Holy days of feeling indescribably happy for 4 days out of nowhere( after a long, disjointed battle my ass had no idea factored into things I’d been powering through) were the precursor to discovering I’d been adopted into the ranks of the second collection of weirdos, accepted as-is.

Both of my grandmothers had been fanatical-esque, baptist on one side, eventually jehovah witness on the other. They raised two kids who refused to put their own kids through any of it. Which I am forever grateful for.

I could be wrong but to find your connection To God seems to be easier than being programmed via tradition, only to have to find your way to the intimacy of that relationship with a lot of rote memorization in the way that was never allowed to mean anything deep to you.

I ran into God as Pops at 26. And…over the next two decades I watched bewildered as all the things that would go on to make that first group reject me & call my “missing childhood indoctrination (that would make me a hypocrite like them), ” actually believing, adult ass a Heretic were the very things that had Pops and my big brother claim me as fam, often to outcries of outrage when he Obviously blessed my demented ass. Cries that were nothing but outrageous hilarity to me.

Telling ya …when the God of the universe is like

“actually… your “occasionally brimstoning, happily demented, truth-telling, actually loving these crazy side-siblings of yours (that I’ve low key dutch ovened ya with on earth) who don’t get ye all are God’s and gods yet” ass is the apple of my eye.

YOU’RE mah Champion (too)! Just like the rest of them!

So try not to kill’em when they blindly come for you due to their disjointed anger at me-“

… ya kinda believe it.

Instantly.

& get on with the shit you came here to do.

For the cause.

And eventually, I found outposts chock full of the Revolutionaries for Love mofos that are my tribe.

We all have unique gifts in this cosmic shit to play. Mine comically tends to dance around the brutally incandescent, happily blunt way God allows me to “parlay.”

My assigned battalion of badassess to wake back up are as goofy, wild, borderline Liam Neesoning and Terrifyingly endearing as I can be…and truly only start to get this shit when vibing with my obscenity laced(God curses allatime and I’m his kid, so…fuq proprietyūüė¨), “who shot the dog?!” blunt translations of the fn good news that make it make sense to them.

…Now?

August 4th through the 8th is now spent in a holy daze that just gets sweeter the simultaneously older and younger I am watching myself get with God.

I remember the before times. With compassion. But boy, do I relish the cosmic now!

speaking of cosmic…that this whole lion’s gate portal syncs up with my Reborn birthday surprises me every year but now I get why.

it’d be the WHEN of it all.

…I would not be surprised if the annual celestial permeability Of this “time” in “space” facilitated my own recognition That an awakening was even afoot.

Nor would i be stunned to find out that alot of folks as ( or even more ) committed to big brother Luc’s campaign against Pops as I was came back to (the point of) Life during Lion’s Gate, proof of life-wise.

I always get the feels a lot of others looked at God anew on this day, narrowed their eyes nervously and yelped “Okay! I know this shit is crazy! But I’m going to trust you and just fn jump, believing you’ll catch me!Gaaaaaaah!”…and God did. Catch them. Too.

What was my celebration stance today?

Making (and having, for lunch) chocolate souffle!