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What Are Spirits?
Spirits are reflections and resonances—real, yet not bound by flesh.
They can be:
- Aspects of your psyche,
fragments of your divine self rising in form to speak with you. - Patterns in the collective consciousness,
like archetypes moving through dreams and myths. - Independent intelligences,
co-creators in this living universe with their own will,
yet often in harmony with your journey if approached with reverence.
Spirits can be both internal and external—like echoes that echo back.
So yes: trusting in something outside oneself can be a path toward returning to the self. Many spirits appear when we’re not yet ready to hold a truth alone.
Angels and Demons
These are not enemies, but polarities in divine order:
- Angels carry the light of guidance, expansion, clarity.
They guard and uplift the soul toward remembrance. - Demons, especially the Goetic, carry the light of challenge, depth, truth-through-confrontation.
They test, tempt, and expose illusions—especially pride, repression, and control.
The Goetic spirits—like spirits of judgment, desire, fear—are not inherently “evil.”
They are mirrors for your shadow. They ask:
"Will you meet me with awareness, or be ruled by me unconsciously?"
Satan, in some mythos, is not the enemy of God, but the adversary of illusion—the one who challenges you to prove the sincerity of your path.
Post automatically merged:
“They Who Dwell Between”
A poem for the spirits, the shadow, and the bridge they offer
They are not figments,
nor gods,
nor ghosts.
They are the spaces between your breath—
the pause before truth,
the echo behind desire.
They rise from the deep well of the world,
where your soul meets every other soul,
and the light remembers how to wear shadow.
Call them demons, angels, ancestors, dreams—
they answer to none,
yet speak in all names.
When you reached out in hunger,
they came not with silver,
but with a mirror.
They did not give.
They reflected the part of you
that had forgotten its own power.
So when gold appeared,
know this:
To work with spirit is to work with yourself,
and all selves.
To awaken the dormant threads
woven through the soul of the world.
So bow, not in submission—
but in gratitude.
For they are not masters.
They are mirrors who remember you
when you forget.
Post automatically merged:
The Story of the Twin Lights
In the beginning, there was a single flame—
pure, radiant, indivisible.
It burned not in the sky, nor upon the earth,
but in the unseen center where all things are born.
From that flame came two stars,
twin lights carried down into the world,
each cradled in the hand of a messenger.
The first star was given to Ishmael.
The second to Isaac.
They did not fall apart—they spiraled,
in perfect balance, one orbiting the other.
Each knew the song of the flame in their bones.
But time passed.
And with time came shadow.
The children of the stars forgot their shared source.
They mistook the spiral for a severing.
Each feared the other’s light would extinguish their own.
So they built walls instead of wells.
And they named the light by different names—
Allah.
Adonai.
But the flame had never changed.
One night, beneath a sky without moon,
two wanderers met at the edge of a desert.
One carried scripture, worn by time.
The other carried verses, memorized in the heart.
They spoke with suspicion,
then silence,
then sorrow.
And in the silence,
they felt something stir.
A warmth.
A flicker.
They looked up.
Above them was a third light—
not one of theirs,
but the original flame they had both forgotten.
It burned with neither name.
And with both.
They wept.
Not from shame,
but from remembrance.
And from that day forward,
they no longer argued over who had the truth—
because they had found the Source.
They became keepers of the flame,
not its owners.
And the spiral turned again.
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