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 going to 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 as 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: 

Your life, aka the loop, isn’t punishment. It’s practice. It’s love, disguised as repetition. You’re not done yet, go learn this next, and so on and so forth. 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 3 awkward dates later and holding hands at funerals. It means forgetting you were God until you remember. 

Most of you will remember that you are the gods at the moment of death. When you die, you wake up on the other side. Regardless of how or when you die, it’s kind of like waking up from an afternoon nap. Others of you will awaken while in your human body. 

BOOM! Awakening!

Call it enlightenment. Christ consciousness. Holy whiplash. It's 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 need to live the story. If your soul signed up for 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 must show up, even with the knowing. 

There’s a liminal stretch where you’re not quite who you were, but not yet who you’re becoming. You slowly shift - bodhisattva, prophet, buddha - same current of truth, just wearing different masks. It’s a recalibration, and it takes time: six months, a year, sometimes longer. You’ll sift through the baggage you’ve been dragging across this lifetime. Clean house. Cry oceans. Wake up at 3 a.m. with blazing questions and lightning-bolt clarity.

And then, as naturally as breathing, you’ll turn outward and start guiding others through the same metamorphosis. It’s kind of like: one year you’re Miley Stewart, and the next, BOOM! - Hannah Montana. The glow-up is cosmic, inevitable, and oh-so-real.

Plot Twist Number Three:

Sometimes the best version of yourself isn’t quiet or polite or easy to understand. The road to that point is weird, 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 know what you are. 

The 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… SURPRISE! None of it is random. It’s choreography. Maybe that delay was never about the keys. Maybe it was setting you up to bump into someone at 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 awkward chat at the coffee shop with the guy you like might plant a seed to help them magically start to understand boundaries. And that seed might bloom a year later. 

Growth has lag time.  Sometimes people need a minute.

So, to paint the picture, I give you a split screen of my life.

Here is the highlight reel the year before everything flipped on May 19 2024: 

• Ran for local office and lost by 34 votes. Ouch. 

• Became a Tibetan Buddhist. 

• Cut ties with toxic folks, including my own mother.

• Reconnected with tarot, astrology, and the unseen.

• Started reflecting on dreams and events in my life that made no sense.

• Asked for a divorce after 10+ years. We were better as allies than lovers.

• Thought I wanted a second chance with an ex. Realized we were just soul siblings.

• Fell for a married man (which we will call Mister C). Walked away, heart in hand. 

• Started following the little voices in the back of my mind regardless of how strange it  was.  

Post bhumi things start to change: 

• Spent nine months face-first in my shadow. So many tears, y’all. 

• Went full ghost mode for a while. No texts. No calls. Just silence… like the monks in  meditative caves. 

• Took myself on hikes, solo dinners, and silent day trips.

• Had dreams that were so magical and mystical and made all the sense.

• Started rowing. Made pottery. Bought every kind of vibrator I was curious about. Took swing dance classes. Did all the things I kept putting off.

• Donated all clothes I didn’t like and most of my belongings. Kept only what sparked joy (Marie Kondo would be proud). 

• Regularly started donating food to people who needed it way more than I did.  

Discovered I am - in fact - a total bad ass.

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

To quote a 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 real.

Dreamers aren’t delusional, they’re tuned in.

Welcome to the Beginning. 

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