Wide Awake in the Convergence

Lately I’ve been trying to make sense of the energies moving through me — not the sugar-coated “lightworker” timelines plastered across social media, but the real currents. The ones that carry joy and humor and little sparks of wonder… right alongside grief, panic, and a sadness that doesn’t quite belong to me.

So I sat down last night and wrote what I was actually feeling.

Here is the truth of it:

I am a witness — a wide-awake witness still learning — to a shifting consciousness and the breaking apart of old groupthink’s. The forces at play are ancient… ancient. Only new to me because I don’t remember the lifetimes where I’ve seen all this before.

The media, be it News of the Day or “trending” on Social mediums; for all its noise, is not new. It’s an old psyop wearing a fresh coat of paint — propaganda luring the masses into a collective mindstream that generates enormous energy. Energy that spreads. Energy that can be harvested. Energy that, in the wrong hands, can enslave entire populations.

History repeats.

It always has.

The cycles become a kind of prison, and we build the walls ourselves — brick by brick, thought by thought. How many does it take to break a cycle? Just one. One mind stepping out. One consciousness refusing to repeat the pattern.

I can feel this shift in my body — the subtle symptoms that always show up when timelines rub against each other. I can feel waves of panic coming from others who fear the change. I know those waves are not mine. They pass through like wind through a window I forgot I’d left open.

The bleed-through is obvious in my dreams: other parallels, familiar people in unfamiliar roles, scenes that match this life but not quite. They slip away in fragments, but the fragments are enough. A picture is forming.

Outer-world dramas repeating themselves endlessly.

And I find myself asking:

Is this evolution… or entrapment?

Do we escape only at death, or is death another holding cell in the same long corridor? Where exactly is the line where free will lives — the true free will — the one not shaped by manipulation, propaganda, fear, or inherited belief?

Being awake is lonely.

I can’t pretend otherwise.

I’m not “there” yet — wherever “there” even is. Awakening isn’t an arrival; it’s a willingness. A willingness to see the countless ways self betrays self. And yet, the more I accept this, the freer I become.

Because Earth’s most valuable resource is not gold, oil, land, or even bodies.

It’s thought.

Human thought.

The power to contain, shape, narrate, force, create, destroy, and generate reality from inside the skull. Human thought is what we call God — the master creator — and we are its image.

The anti-Christ, the anti-God, is not a singular figure. It is any force that seeks to enslave thought, to bend consciousness toward greed, fear, or domination.

Christ-driven thought — thought from the inner temple, from the heart — is the true paradise. The kingdom within. The world of peace, health, abundance, and brotherly love that we keep looking for externally.

That is what humanity seeks.

But before I was human… what did I seek then?

Experience.

I sought experience itself.

I sought me.

An experience within an existence where the collective consciousness is driven by gain, and I volunteered for it.

Is the end goal to win something?

To reach some finish line?

To complete the race in record time?

No.

It never was.

It’s the journey — always the journey.

An eternal scenic drive with no destination, where every mountain, every valley, every bridge, every heartbreak, every revelation is another story added to the endless Book of Life.

A book with no binding.

A story still being written.

And I remain —

a witness,

awake,

learning,

and willing.