It’s hard for it to come to you, if you don’t believe you deserve it.
It’s harder still for it to stay with you, if you don’t trust yourself to stay with… well… yourself.
And what is the “it” of which we speak?
Money.
Love.
Health.
Joy.
Creative expression.
Ease.
Intimacy.
Belonging.
All of it.
{And then some.}
But there will come a day when you are no longer willing to be treated the way you have allowed until now.
There will come a moment {perhaps… PERHAPS… this is that moment}, when you are no longer willing to believe you deserve to treat YOURSELF the way you have allowed until now.
And look.
Like, frfr?
I get it.
{I really fucking get it.}
But you are God made flesh.
You are the infinite made manifest in the instantaneous now.
And you are so fucking far beyond the limitations of who they tried to force you to be, that the old self you have tried to maintain?
It’s starting to feel unbearably claustrophobic and itchy at the seams.
Because it no longer fits.
I mean, how COULD it?
With the way you’ve been saying yes {and saying yes some more} to your own remembrance and actualization?
How could the habituated identities of mistrust and despair be able to, in any way, stand in the primal majesty of the power born between your thighs?
And, how could YOU continue on the way you’ve been carrying on?
It’s just not possible.
And yet… you’ve often wondered…
Where’s the bridge to connect who you tried to warp yourself into believing you were… and the you who you damn well know you ARE?
Where are the handholds and footholds along this descent into the primordial void that whispers your everything?
And where are you?
Where the fuck are YOU?
In it all.
As it all.
Where is the evocation of the madness and the soul of your medicine?
And how, HOW, will you remember if you can’t seem to find the first step?
Phew, chile!
Take a breath here.
And another.
And then feel it.
The agitation and the longing and the death of that which can no longer remain WITH you, in the face OF you.
Cuz the rabbit’s getting old, baby, and who you WERE simply must die to soul in order for soul to come {and cummmmm} fully alive.
And so what is to be done, when you know what it IS, but can’t yet see HOW it is?
Well…
You distill what the fuck you want.
You double {and triple} down on what the fuck you want.
And you decide… with no equivocation… that what you want is now yours.
And then, every day and twice on Sunday, you claim it.
Again and again.
You claim it with your breath.
You claim it with your sex.
You claim it in the name of your God.
And you become the one for whom it is now simply so.
And it becomes the only possible evocation of that which you are.
You collapse potentiality into possibility into the inevitable into the now.
How? Why?
Because you say so.
But is it safe, really safe, to have it all and have it all now?
It is if you say so.
But what about the systemic atrocities inflicted on the bodies of those who look like us, come from where we come from, stand for what we stand for?
Well, now.
That is a conversation around liberation.
A communion that exists beneath and as the very bones of everything we have spoken to today.
An invitation that is yours, if you desire it.
We have something coming next year, the likes of which you have never {and I mean NEVER} before felt.
A pussy quaking, soul destabilizing evocation beyond the veil.
And you want to be with us.
You WANT to be with us.
More deets to come soon enough.
{Watch this space.}
And, in the meantime, I invite you to dance in the shadow and the depths with me next week inside my brand new, primal AF 18-day immersion, Make Money From Soul.
This is a portal of money and abundance, yes, but even more so?
This is a primordial uprising {and grounding} into you trusting the fuck out of your everything…
And getting paid allllll the monies, just for being you.
Pre-sale price goes up each morning.
So, join us here before the next increase.
As always…
Here’s to your untaming,
N