Let’s be real.
A lot of theology today reads like it was written by people who forgot how to dance. What began as a pure, divine pulse meant to guide us toward love and aliveness got twisted. Like "played a cosmic game of telephone for two thousand years" twisted. Someone whispered “Love your neighbor” and centuries later it turned into “Judge anyone who’s different.”

Here’s your permission slip to drop that shame-ridden, control-heavy programming. The old systems weren’t wrong because the divine is flawed. They were incomplete because we got disconnected. The message got scrambled like Sunday brunch eggs with too much guilt on the side.

This book? It’s your decoder ring.

We're gonna reintroduce you to the Divine, not as bearded men in the sky or thunder-throwing tyrants, but as archetypes, frequencies, memes in motion. As you, really. We’ll dive into something called a bhumi (say it with me: boom-ee), and along the way, we’ll lovingly demolish some spiritual confusion with a sledgehammer made of truth and glitter.

Now pause.

What if you didn’t arrive here a blank slate? What if you came in with soul-smudges of divinity? Old memories. Ancient heartbreak. Cosmic belly laughs. And what if you agreed to forget it all just so you could remember it in the most epic plot twist of all time?

Alan Watts once told a cheeky little story. The Gods, omnipotent, omniscient, and a little bored, decided to play a game. Let’s pretend we’re not Gods. Let’s forget. Let’s live these messy, beautiful lives so vividly that we forget we were ever anything else.
And poof, you arrived. In traffic. At a job you hate. Cry-laughing with a friend. Eating cereal at 2 a.m. The Gods became you and forgot. 

Sound familiar? It’s kind of like Groundhog Day. Same loops. Same pain. Same déjà vu soundtrack on repeat.

Plot twist number one. The loop isn’t punishment. It’s practice. It’s love, disguised as repetition. You’re not done yet. Learn this next.

Being divine doesn’t mean floating on clouds and manifesting parking spots.
It means being here. In your body. In your grief. In your joy. In karaoke bars and ER rooms and awkward dates and holding hands at funerals. It means forgetting you were God until you remember.

And then boom. Awakening.

Call it enlightenment. Christ consciousness. Holy whiplash. The moment when the sky opens inward. You remember who’s been steering this whole ship. You realize you’re not just the main character. You’re also the writer, the director, and the lighting crew.

Plot twist number two. Even after awakening, fate doesn’t hand you a hall pass. You still have to live the story. If your soul signed up for heartbreak or fame or a flaming dolphin tattoo on your butt after a Vegas bender, guess what. That contract still stands. You don’t get to float off into a rainbow cloud of bliss. You still have to show up, even with the knowing.

You’ll quickly become a bodhisattva, a prophet, a Buddha. Same truth, different names.

There’s a transition period. A recalibration. It takes six months to a year, maybe longer, to unpack the baggage you’ve been lugging through this lifetime. You’ll clean house. Grieve hard. Wake up in the middle of the night with burning questions and sudden clarity. And then you’ll start helping others do the same.

It’s kind of like one day you’re Miley Stewart, and the next you’re Hannah Montana. The glow-up is real.

Plot twist number three. Sometimes the best version of yourself isn’t quiet or polite or easy to understand. It’s weird and wild and unpredictable. In Buddhism and mystic circles, they call it crazy wisdom. The divine starts driving and you do things that make zero sense in the moment. You’ll question your sanity. Other people might too. But in hindsight, it’s all exactly right.

You still get sinus infections. You still lose people. You still mess up and come off like a jerk sometimes. But now, you're awake inside the dream. You know it’s a dream, even when it still bites.

And that awareness? That’s the whole point. Because fate isn’t asking if you lived long or died young. It’s asking if you knew what you are. 

Biggest secret in human history? Know thyself.
And thyself… are the Gods.

Once you know this, everything shifts.

The “random” delays, the lost keys, the awkward stall in traffic — none of it’s random. It’s choreography. Maybe that delay was never about the keys. Maybe it was setting you up to bump into someone in the grocery store and say the one sentence that changes both your lives.

Divine timing isn’t about convenience. It’s about alignment. It doesn’t run on your Google Calendar. It runs on your soul’s rhythm. It’s here to make sure you don’t miss the scenes that matter most.

You also start to see your ripple effect. The guy who rear-ended you might rethink his life. The quick chat at the coffee shop might plant a seed in someone who’s never understood boundaries. And that seed might bloom a year later. Growth has lag time. Sometimes people need a minute.

So to paint the picture, here’s a split screen of my life:

Before the bhumi. AKA: My hot mess era.

Ran for office and lost by 25 votes.
Asked for a divorce after a decade.
Almost rekindled with an ex, then realized we were just soul siblings.
Fell for a married man. Walked away with a broken heart and some hard-earned wisdom.
Rekindled my connection with tarot, dreams, and the unseen.
Became a Tibetan Buddhist. No, really.
Cut off toxic ties, including family.
Started following my intuition, even when it sounded bonkers.

After the bhumi.
Spent nine months in the dark, facing every shadow.
Went full ghost mode. No texts. No calls. Just solitude and stillness.
Dated myself. Hiked solo. Ate alone. Traveled quietly.
Had dreams so clear they felt more real than real life.
Tried rowing. Made pottery. Bought a variety pack of vibrators. Took swing dance.
Donated almost everything I owned.
Started giving to strangers who needed more than I did.
Discovered I’m a total badass.

And here’s the truth. I’m not special. I just stopped lying to myself. I stopped pretending I was okay being small. I followed the thread of my longing. You can too.

To quote a tiny cricket in a top hat:
When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires will come to you

Yeah it sounds cheesy. But it’s also true. Dreamers aren’t delusional. They’re tuned in.

Welcome to the beginning.

Let’s unlearn. Let’s remember. Let’s rebuild the divine… together.