Let's Talk Jesus
on the collective wounds of Christian theology and coming to embody Christ consciousness yourself
I’m no scholar. Especially when it comes to Christianity. I’ve pursued my own path of intuitively comparative spiritual philosophy and mysticism.
Classical Tantra, Yoga, Sufism, Gnosticism, and Kabbalah are some of the sources of insight I’ve found most interesting.
If there had to be one for me, which resonates most holistically, it would be non-dualistic Shaiva Tantra Hinduism.
Because, of course, I’ve got to be all about something that sounds elitist and pompous.
But for real, that shit is truth.
Regardless, this is about Jesus. And how the myth we all know has coded deep wounds within us.
So, let’s get into it.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Sorry, I’m trying to get the people at the cross-section of Christianity and sensitivity out of the room.
Because I don’t know how, but I’m sure this is going to be blasphemous.
The story of Jesus has a message we don’t talk about.
Jesus’ story, of someone who was an authentic, loving, healer—speaking heart truths and facing down injustice until they we’re struck down by corrupt systems of power—teaches us that we should be afraid.
That freedom equals death.
It teaches us to hide our own Christ. The one that lives in each of our hearts. Which so many countless people from all walks of life have embodied in their own way, however humble, throughout the course of human history.
The energy of Christ that some people call Jesus, or Christ Consciousness, is something that lives within us all—given a human face.
Yet, the institutions which hide their corruption within organizations that bear this name are the farthest thing from an embodiment of the very principles their messiah figure espouses.
The same collective-suppressive energies, passed through generations, which were responsible for murdering the historical figure themself.
What an honor they earned, Jesus. To be used as a puppet for the very forces they stood against. The forces which would have human beings disempowered, fighting for scraps, unaware of the power and strength and capacity within them to do amazing things.
What an honor indeed.
Who is Jesus to me?
I was shielded from any exposure to organized Christianity, apart from going to a few different churches with friends.
My family took me to an Easter Sunday mass at random once, and I took communion there.
Then, when I went to a Catholic church with a friend, nobody noticed as I got in their post-mass communion line. Which, in Catholic tradition, the uninitiated are NOT supposed to do.
His parents only realized as I came back to my seat. They were mortified.
Other than that, Jesus had meant just about nothing to me personally. Only the association with institutions in their name.
That is until 2020, when I was using COVID quarantine to get super deep into meditation, and I was listening to this really amazing guided-meditation teacher.
He invoked Christ consciousness, and I felt the energy of a small sun come upon the front left side of my body.
Like, I was lit up at the calling in of ‘Christ consciousness’ specifically.
I do reiki, I get vibes for all kinds of things. But this was very singular and unique. Extremely powerful.
My heart was touched.
Still, that’s about it, when it comes to my connection with Jesus. Other than years of awareness of the myth as presented within Christian theology.
This is, until I had a really interesting, dark, and trying time recently.
During this period, I turned to plant-medicines to really see me through. Marijuana, Hape, and Blue Lotus Flower.
I do not recommend using these all in excess for months on end.
It led me into a place of delusion and confusion. Very real healing was happening, as per my intentions with using these medicines, but the intelligence of these medicines treated me with as much respect as I was affording them. And I was abusing them. So, they were abusing me right back.
Still, the biggest lesson I learned…
Don’t Drink a Kettle’s Worth of Blue Lotus Tea Everyday
Just don’t do it.
I know you wouldn’t. That’s a very unique ‘me’ thing. But still, if part of you wondered. I can confirm that it’s a very bad idea.
It’s an ancient plant medicine used in Egypt to open your intuition; your third eye.
Well, it does that.
But you can’t really go back is the problem. And when you go too far too fast, you lose your ground.
Also, when you’ve been doing Kundalini Yoga for years, focused on these same intentions of busting your third-eye the fuck open. And you use this yoga in conjunction with the tea that is lighting your intuition on fire.
Openings happen, that’s all I’m saying.
I’ve met a handful of folks who have had Kundalini awakenings and then really saw their life fall apart.
I understand that very deeply now.
When you open yourself psychically. You also open yourself to projections from your own trauma and grief, which you’ve stored in your body.
So, you shouldn’t bust your ass open unless you’re super healed.
I remember reading that when I started throwing myself into Kundalini yoga years ago.
Watch out! Shit makes people go crazy if they're not careful.
I had that impressed upon me very strongly.
Still, I’m enthusiastic and excitable. I want things before I’m meant to have them.
So, I pushed.
Moving through this period of abusing plant medicines, directly after having this yogic, tea-powered Kundalini awakening—I was crying buckets of tears every day about things that I’d held inside since I was a kid.
Just starting to let shit out of my body I didn’t even know was there.
Because I needed to. I need to get it all out.
A wound in my chest needed to know I was beautiful.
One in my back needed to trust I was safe.
The reason I discovered all this was coming up, is that if you don’t release these traumas when you have awakened yourself psychically, those traumas then project into the things you are actually perceiving, and you feel like you’re going nuts.
The confusion of this had me literally falling into delusional thinking.
I did some things which are too shameful for me to talk about here.
Jumped to conclusions about someone I had lost trust in and over-reacted.
Made myself seem a fool and a psycho to the last person I would ever want to think that of me. Twice.
These actions. And the shame and fear which they caused within me. Along with very intense happenings at home. Led me to having a weeklong manic episode that saw me move out and back into my apartment over the course of two days. Then, eventually, check into a mental health crisis center to really get some help.
I’ve got a lot of stuff to face. Addiction most of all.
But I’m still not crazy.
Coming back into grounding and getting centered. Medicated. I found the psychic things that have been happening, are still happening, and a lot of the times they’re confirmable.
So… bringing this back to Jesus.
In the middle of healing body traumas. Directly after cracking my ass open.
I was surprised about one trauma I found.
It was in my left shoulder.
And I cried incredibly hard and long about it.
This fear is that if I become free, someone will kill me for it.
The Jesus Wound
So, there it was, in my left shoulder. And I’m crying because this voice of wisdom—the same one I channel when I lead group meditations—is saying things directly to this wound inside me, which it really needs to hear.
It’s telling this wound that it doesn’t have to die this time.
That we can be free and live.
And it heals me.
It healed me very deeply. But oh, so strange, to heal a wound you didn’t even know about consciously.
The wisdom which healed, came from this voice of wisdom, and it spoke to my subconscious. I was standing there in the bathroom mirror just witnessing the releasing of this somatic holding I’d never once consciously considered.
Crying it out of my shoulder.
Having released this, then spent time integrating the strange revelation of a deeply suppressed fear.
Wisdom came back to me. It told me that we all hold this wound.
Every one of us.
But it also told me that I needed to face my fear. I needed to accept that it could be true.
For months, I’d been sitting in ceremony, trying to attract abundance into my life in all forms. Releasing my personal limitations, becoming my best self, and attracting the partner I’m meant to have—for the greatest good of all. That is what all of my intention had been pointing towards.
Through all of this, it had become clear that I have some creative work to do. I have words to write. I have meditations to make and host. I have books to publish and films to make. Or something like that.
So, in the face of this new wrinkle; this suppressed fear. A realization dawned on me.
This could actually be true for me.
I’m a trans woman. And a mother. And I speak my truth. I’m going to be me. I’m going to be loud and proud. I’m going to be beautiful and spiritually healthy and shine.
There could be people who really don’t like that.
So, I need to face reality. I need to accept this fear. I need to walk in honor of it. It’s not going anywhere.
I was called to accept this responsibility, and the weight of this possibility, in a teary-eyed ceremony.
I did. With an exception.
I accepted the weight of this fear, of what being free and shining it proudly might bring, but had a petty thing to ask for—through a wall of tears—in return.
I would only accept this weight if the universe could bring a dear old friend back to me in some small way.
Truthfully, I can see divinity in how the cruelty of my whole life, emotionally, led me to accept a weight like that. With the promise of something as simple as a pen pal.
Two months previous. I had accepted an invocation in a ceremony about releasing limitations, where on the third repetition, thunder literally struck.
Like… what the actual fuck.
It was the only thunder strike of that whole night too.
So, needless to say, I take invocations made in these kinds of ceremonies seriously.
Still, I accepted that weight. Because, on top of my petty personal exception, it means I get to be free. And the wisdom promised me years and years of the best times of my life still to come.
Who is going to look at being free and joyous dead in the eye and choose to return to blindness and fear?
I chose freedom. Even if it means my path will have me walking along side my own fear that I might be killed for being me.
A few days after that, I had a dream where a gong went off in my head.
Literally, woke up with it still resonating my whole body.
That night, or the next one, I started writing Her Journey to Now, my essay about living life as a closeted transgender woman.
All of a sudden it was as if I’d found my writing voice.
Since then, I’ve written so much it’s absurd. Poems, essays. They’re simply pouring through.
Just like when I guide live meditations—I’ve been learning to simply get out of the way.
Sometimes, the stuff that comes through is surprising to me. Sometimes, very surprising. Sometimes, to the point where I feel very uncomfortable posting it.
Frankly, a lot of it is aimed towards and about that lost friend.
But it’s what’s coming through, and the stuff that’s making me the most uncomfortable, in all honesty.
On top of it all, just about everything I’ve written has come with buckets of my own tears.
So, I’ve still been healing this whole time, just letting more and more of this stored trauma out from within my body.
While I’m worn the fuck out emotionally and physically. Spiritually, I’m better than I’ve ever been.
I know that once this phase of release is over for me. My work will continue in one way or another, because I’ve accepted this responsibility of being a beacon of authenticity, and I’ve always been a creative person at heart who wishes to express themself.
That’s who I am at my core. So, I’m just going being me.
But I want to be clear.
I’m Not Special
For real. I’m watching a WWE Intercontinental Title Match as I type this.
And it’s a pretty solid match to be honest.
I’ve also been eating quesadillas and drinking mostly Monster energy drinks for weeks, as I ignore practical responsibilities, to write essays and poems which I post into the ether.
This is a very human person here.
Very, very human.
But all of us. Every goddamn one. Has this sun of love within us.
We all have this light, which some have called Christ, burning inside.
It’s suppressed by our fear of it. Our fear of what it has to show us about ourselves. Our fear of what that will change within us. Our fear of what that will change in our lives. And our fear of being killed for shining it freely.
It’s super scary to be real.
It’s hard to face your truth and not only see it but share it without reservation.
Yet, through doing that we can find ourselves protected in a light of love. A shield around our heart—born of light projected from within it.
Societal corruptions of judgement and fear cannot survive the light shined by our authentic hearts.
We all have a Christ within us.
And we all have the power to realize it.
Truthfully, I believe that one day, all of humankind will find this together. Even if I’m not here to see it.
If we all accept this responsibility. Face this fear. And choose to walk with our truly authentic selves—fears, hopes, and all. We can together realize our power to change the world.
