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Kratom of Life Blog: The War on Nature
© 2020 | Kratom of Life| Matthew McHolland G30 Designs | All Rights Reserved | Divina Eternity Anthology & the Wild Adventures of Xara & the Man of the Moon | An e-Learning Experience |

Illustrations Gigi (GG)

Click here to listen to my playlist on Spotify for a supernal reading experience.

Psychology, Ritual, & Ancestral Lore of the Earth & the Sky.

#TheUniverseOfDivinaEternity

#WestCoastKratomHub

#PlantPsychology

#SensoryEcology

#CosmicLore

#SacredTeachingsOfTheSolarHeart

#BusquedaExistencial

#ExistencialCrisis

#PsychoSomatics

#EarthBasedKnowledge

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#GigiWebCartoonist

I am in the nothingness, in the void, in the motherboard self-writing my universe.
I am in the ancient realm, in the cosmic jungle with the ancient Gods building myself back anatomically cell by cell. I am the water of the magical mirrors. The chants, the air traveling through my veins. They healed my ancestral inner cuts. I have gone inside the womb of the earth. She has hugged me with her feathers. I have absorbed the sacred scents. There is no going back. I have been burnt by the sacred flame of the heart. The process has begun. The raven is out. A total wild dream come true. The dark mirrors have shattered. They have gotten out of the ilusion. The firebird is out. I always knew it. I am a phoenix. I am connected to the land of the death. The roots, my heritage is as bright as the bougainvillea. I am the precious burnt waters of the one heart. Soy Quetzalcoatl.

Estoy en la nada, en el vacío, en el motherboard cósmico autoescribiendo mi universo. Estoy en el reino antiguo, en la jungla cósmica con los dioses antiguos reconstruyéndome anatómicamente célula por célula. Soy el agua de los espejos mágicos. Soy los cánticos, el aire viajando por mis venas doradas. Curaron mis heridas ancestrales. Me he metido en el vientre de la tierra. Me ha abrazado con sus plumas. He absorbido los aromas sagrados de la madre tierra. No hay vuelta atrás. Me ha quemado la llama sagrada del corazón solar. El proceso ha comenzado. El cuervo ha salido. Un sueño totalmente salvaje hecho realidad. El pájaro de fuego está fuera. Se ha liberado de los espejos oscuros. Los rompio. Se fragmentaron al caer. Salio. Finalmente se dio cuenta. Siempre lo supe. Soy un fénix libre de la eterna noche. Estoy conectado con la madre de la muerte y mis raíces, mi herencia es tan brillante y luminosa como las bugambilias. Soy las preciosas aguas quemadas del corazón solar. I am Quetzalcoatl.

…He is the passion that sweeps her away from the craziness of this world to that beautiful, romantic place in his arms where her body and soul feel so at home… Memories… Great memories.

… He is her wildest dream come true. He is the man of the moon, proof that life can be pure magic…

…Es el la pasión que la aleja de la locura de este mundo a ese hermoso y romántico lugar en sus brazos donde sus cuerpos y sus almas se sienten como en casa …

…Es el su sueño más salvaje hecho realidad. Es el hombre de la luna, prueba de que la vida puede ser pura magia…

My dreams. My reality. The feathers keep coming…

She had seen it. The music has allowed her to see their union, the union of the sacred hearts. They will be eternally jumping from one dimension to another like cosmic glitter in the invisible and indestructible spaces. In love creating, becoming, dissolving always together… And so the man of the moon said… “forget what they have told you. Let them be that. Let them be what they have been told. But you, BE YOU! Forget that you need air to breathe. Forget that you need wings to fly. Dissipate in the vacuum of the universe. Forget that you need soil to walk on.

I am in the nothingness, in the void, in the motherboard self-writing my universe.

Ancient gods, Ancient gods. Ometeol. Ometeotl…

Ancient gods, ancient gods. Ometetol. Ometeolt…

I am in the ancient realm, in the cosmic jungle with the ancient Gods building myself back anatomically cell by cell. I am the water of the magical mirrors of the night. The chants, the air traveling through my silver veins. They healed my ancestral inner cuts. I have gone inside the womb of the earth. She has hugged me with her colorful feathers. I have absorbed the sacred scents of life. There is no going back. I have been burnt by the sacred flame of the one solar heart. The process has begun. The Raven is out.  A total wild dream come true. The firebird is out. I always knew it. I am a phoenix. I am connected to the land of the death. The roots, my heritage is as bright as the bougainvillea. I am the precious burnt waters of the one heart.

#AguaTierraQuemada

#AguaFuego

 She has the magical ring. She has just discovered that that ring has magic. The ring of the warriors of the moon. Are the MEs watching? Am I watching myself in the beyond? No more questions. They will not confuse me. I am not going there this time. Her soul seeks to return to the one love of her life. That’s for sure now where do we start? What story do they want to hear? What exactly do they want to know about the sacred mysteries of the universe?

Chants. Ancestral spiraling chants for the awakening of the solar heart. Chants, chants for the awakening of the lunar heart. Ancestral chants. She remembers closing her eyes. She was floating in space… surrounded by stars… and then the sky cracked opened and the rays of the light showered her with the solar feathers and chants. She had closed her eyes and felt the light. She had met the singing feathers. She is a valat. She is a mage.

Es todo ana conocedora de conocimientos.

Attitude. Perception. New eyes, the eyes of the moon to see in other realms…

 Luna-Scientific Art of Writing, Magic. Mediation, & Wisdom.

She had seen him. Another of those white dimensions. There is no doubt he prepares those places with anticipation. Again, a white and bright room. A table. No decorations. There he was… the man of the moon radiating like a child of the sun. In spirit, in a hologram… Though I could not touch him, I could put my hands through him. So incredible. So fantastical. I was desperate in my dream. I was having a mini freak out moment. I kept asking. I am crazy. I no longer know what is real and what is not… He smiled. He continued to smile. He enjoyed watching the hot mess that I was. I could not stop asking questions. He simply sat there. Watching me. Smiling right back at me. There is no doubt that our ancestors live within us, in the heart, in the collective astral memory of the universe. And he was about to reply. And I know he wanted to say something. He smiled. He was having fun watching me freak out. I no longer know what is real. But I know there are many rooms, many dimensions out there waiting for all of us. He is a spiritual hologram. She no longer questions. The divine is there. The magical woman was right. Although she seemed to write about it from a colder perspective, I totally understand her. She is so cool. She was on it… years, years ago. Where is she now? I would like to meet this mystic woman, the one that told her about sacred projections. I have yet to ask her more about the…

#ProsociaBehaviors

Spiral, spirals. The dance of the chants of the sky. Her body is moving like a serpent going up in the sky. Her body is moving. She is an eagle and the serpent is coming out of her mouth. She dances. She moves.

She is filtering reality…

Consciousness is an ocean of Imperceptible Synesthetic Sensorium.

She had read a lot. She has explored a lot. She has searched and searched for the sacred glimpses into divina eternity but the wisdom of divina eternity is so gray. Yet, angels are real. She will see him again. He is one of them. Technological Liberation. She has been gifted magical wisdom beyond this realm. She remains open. She will no longer question the sacred wisdom.

The red fairy and her and on the right side of illumination.

She remains perceptive. Because once molecules of emotions interact… the bond cannot be broken for true love is quantum entanglement.

 The connection to love never dies; it only transmutes.

She has primeval neurobiological muscles, processes that have yet to be used.

The connection persists after the physical body.

It is a matter of strengthening our cosmic connection with the universe. She has come far. It is about exercising the essence to be.

Quetzalcoatl was there once again. A divine reminder. She is a messenger of Quetzalcoatl. She is Mujer-Quetzalcoatl. She is here to share the ancestral teachings of Quetzalcoatl. She just remembers waking up saying: Soy La Luz de Quetzalcoatl. I am the light of Quetzalcoatl. She had a great night sleep. All she remembers is being in a white dimension the entire time. Yet, somehow she woke up so empowered by the light.

To be a Xochipilli Quetzalcoatl is to enhance one’s consciousness in order to achieve a sacred transformation.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to accept the #kukulcanaSpirit within for it is the embracement of kukulcana what truly makes a warrior, a child of the sun, the moon, and the stars.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to return to the light while embellishing our beautiful obscurity with dignity and colorful feathers.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to be a flower of hope and wisdom in the sea of ignorance and planetary repertoire of darkness.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to be the authentic embodiment of solar love, a blessing, a torch, a holy smoke, a sign of the air coming to guide us with hyperdimensional wisdom.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to revive the ancestral inner cosmic serpent of volcanic, precious stones underneath the skin.

Quetzalcoatl is an emblem of self-realization, an ancient serendipitous and synchronistic reminder of our divinity and supernal connection to eternity.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to remember that we are not alone…it is the alien soldier within…the magical warrior… the scent of copal…the supernal abilities…the magical raptor in me…the mythical lore of self-redemption, justice, and courageousness.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to be at peace and in utter union with the forces of the universe and our inherent existence.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to revive the natural poetry and the visionary art of the heart and spirit.

To be a Quetzalcoatl is to remember the duality of who we are so that we once and for all reclaim our supernal place in the present moment.

I am the morning and the evening star. I am the path of the red fire. I am the one heart, the one soul, the one projection. I am the serpent of the light. I am living magic in a cosmos of quantum rainbows. I AM the truth. I am the Warrior QUETZALCOATL.?☀️?

Her physical form is a filter that allows her to understand life. But what is underneath the neurobiological filter if not the essence, the spark, the soul, the atman, the digital me, the psychography, akasha, the cosmic library of the souls, the flame, the motherboard, the codes of life, the psychic embodiment, the symbolic conceptualization of the self, the depth of the subjective and collective spirit, astral light, magnetization…conscious immortality… liberation?

Sleepless… sleep… She expels her name…she expels all forms in the realm of synesthetic sensoria.

They are conscious immortal magical beings of the light.

This is how they feel. She walks… but there are no floors. He talks but there are no words. She listens without ears. He sees without opening his eyes. She feels without her anatomy.

Her spirit has seen her body. The astral realm of sensoria is a timeless dimension. There are no needs for the senses. There is no need to breathe…to taste…

She follows the divine intelligence for she is a celestial magoi. She pays attention.

She believes in the oracular vapors that the ancients talked about…

Neurons… cells… impulses. For it is her neurobiological apparatus what gives shape… to the physical reality.  What is life without a biological machinery like the brain…. and spine… without our central nervous system? Have you ever wondered?

She has learned the sacred secrets of Intentional planning of the consciousness for the transition to the afterlife.

 She will not get into details. She will only paint a clear glimpse into Divina Eternity.

Faith. Love. Hope… are the principles, the keys to experience the natural realm of Synesthetic Sensoria…

She heals in the water with the sirens. Sounds…traveling healing sounds through the water… through the skin…Because back then… they knew that to heal others… to truly heal the trauma of the body… to truly calm down the central system… to bring it back to homeostasis… it was necessary to listen to sacred chants…in order to repair the cells…the connections… all through musical neurogenesis… Cerebral plasticity…Equanimity. Awakening of the solar heart. Regeneration of cerebral nerves.

Cerebral Ganglia…Reparations…Neuroplasticity… yet we must all experience the law of the decay.

… Who she really is…  The sacred plants are keys to the activation of our DNA for transcendence to occur.

Because even on earth she has learned that by making oneself godly in this life, it is possible to achieve divinity with the chants.

Let me tell you about the time they tried to burn the cosmic library of Miss Harris… Don’t mess with Miss Harris and her books. Her books are sacred. Her books are enchanted. No tricks.

When you are going, she is already coming back.

Sweet lady… Another dimension. The processing begins. The light of her body has been called. She has seen them. She has seen the nurses of the other side. She is being prepared. She has somehow seen the processing of the body…but not the processing of the soul. She did not feel comfortable. Not at all. Though they were gentle. She was not having it. All the sweet lady wanted was to go back home. For it is in her home where she feels happy. The red fairy is an angel. She is never alone. And so, Sweet Lady asked: “Can I go home?” And they said, “yes you may for now BUT we are COMING for you.”

Porque es una alma conciente. El alma tiene conciencia. Sale. Se libera.

Es la magia del gato gris lo que pararon sus lagrimas. Se acerco. Habia sentido su aura llorando.

Interstellar rhythms… Yoshi Tomo is BACK!!!

There is a war of information in the age of information. For it is her brain a filter of universal consciousness.

What happens to love when we are gone from the earth?

#CosmosIntrinsictConsciousness.

Though the man of the moon ceased to be a physical entity, he continues to live independently within the canvas …as an external force of the universe itself where he gets to paint the beyond.

Los recuerdos de la nada llegan, llegan como torbellinos en la dimensión blanca. Viajan, viajan las lagrimas sin rumbo…

Va cayendo en una dimension sin color… sin olor…sin viento…

 Lightning striking on her face. The calm has come. In the white dimension… there she is falling… floating… twisted clouds… She is shining again against the storm.

The crow woman circling, watching from above. She dances under the shadows of the crow woman. A black sun. An orange sky. She dances for the hurt ones, for the ones crying, for the ones suffering, for the ones that could not make it one more day… for the ones that are yet to be here… for the birthers of life, for the fallen and the ones exiting this world in this precise time.

Black smokes…

…White clouds

She dances… she dances for the crying mothers… she throws herself on the floor in desperation. Because she wants to be heard. She wants to be seen. She is no ghost.

She never wanted to be a spook.

 Body parts everywhere. A frantic, frenzied dance of desperation… a cry for help…

 For the ones that nobody hears… for the ones screaming… por las que callan. Por los que sufren en silencio. Por las que lloran bajo la lluvia de verano. Por las guerreras no escuchadas que lloran en la regadera. Por las guerreras oprimidas. Por las escondidas. Por los desaparecidos. Por todo lo que ha salido en descontrol y la maldad universal…

Tormentors… tormentors are the memories, and the nostalgia of the past flashing by.

Feelings… memories…One heart… Las almas no necesitan el cuerpo para vivir. El cuerpo necesita el alma, el espiritu, la Chispa divina para poder ser.

This is the song she wants to hear when she goes to to the other side of the skin. She won’t stop. She is going up. She is ascending. No pain. Just bright love and freedom in the Divina Eternity. Her body resting on the floor. The soul coming out of her. A beautiful technological angel floating. He holds her hand and takes her beyond the shadows of the moon, to the palace of the sacred technologies. They had been waiting for so long. The solar children were excited to meet her. They were essential in the construction of the…

She will never forget the time they walked the beach and the man of the moon gave her a rock in the shape of a heart. The ocean had brought it to the shore… He had picked it up.

“Estamo de paso. Cada quien elige cuidar su traje. Todo es movimiento. El universeo gira. ¿Porque y para que son las enseñanzas? Es solo cosa de preguntar. El universo require mas psico-locos,” cuenta la mujer guerrera del duelo. Es una con la luna.

Mis lagrimas saben a ti. Extrano tus abrazos. Tu voz Tus masajes. Tu mirada. Tu presencia de guerrero.

 Contigo me siento guerrero.

Eres mi guardian. Por siempre. Mi guarura.  Mi angel. Mi todo.

Una dimension blanca… cayendo ella en una dimension blanca… dandos, vueltas… Alguien la estaba dibujando cayendo… cayendo en la dimension blanca…

Son laberintos los mensajes para decifrarlos.

Divina Eternity. Imagination.

She is falling down in the white dimension. No scents. No colors. Only her… falling down among the clouds.

 She communicates with beings from other dimensions.

She interacts with different forms of realities.
Porque los recuerdos verdaderos surgen de la nada

Abraza su humanidad. Se entrega. La acepta y la deja ir para que pueda su cuerpo desarrollarse. Para puedan sus cuerpos transformarse en el cuerpo de luz que necesita para estar con el hombre de la luna. Se ira de la tierra agradecida y bendecida por los mismos elementos que le prestaron su cuerpo molecular para descubrir el magico ser que es.

She is consciousness. She is aware of what she is. She is ready to detach.

Whenever she closes her eyes she is gone.

“No intentes jamás curar el cuerpo, sin antes haber curado el alma,” dice la Matrix.

Frames of time and space vanishing

 The observer and observed become one.

Es importante tener las herramientas adecuadas.

Don’t temp me creature of the night. Don’t temp me.

I know you want to see the worst of me.

But if I were you, I would not keep trying or you might find yourself in your worst nightmare. What entity in me do you want to see? Who do you want to fight? The thunderbird? The flying, feathered serpent? The mother of death? The Raven?

Heavy guitars in the background… Palpitations.

Mother earth is here.

 She is here singing her lullabies.

Esos sueños eres tu mismo trabajando en ti… dice la maga de las plantas.

Ya habia estado ahi con las mujeres del duelo.

Corren las plantas que fueron sirenas. Llega la lluvia, cortina de fuego. Espadas. Gritos. Corren. Les cortan sus raices. Les cortan sus pies. Les tapan la boca. Les tapan los ojos.

Petalos destrosados de colores por doquier.

Ya habia visto los velos y vestidos negros de la noche.

Ya habia tomado el te de la noche. Ya habia estado ahi en el Corazon de la selva misteriosa del duelo. No era la primera vez.

Viene, llegan las olas del fuego. Ay las plantas corriendo bajo las sombras de las estrellas. Ay los arboles que caminaron. Solo era una curandera solitaria de los rios. Y una sirena por las tardes hasta que vio la ola de fuego venir. No podia escapar. Venian las botas. Venian las espadas. Venia la era de la ignorancia. La era de oro regresaria. La oscuridad habia llegado a retomar sus tierras.

An industrial military complex coming after all the magical creatures of the universe. Encroaching humanity’s dignity.

No decorum… No decorum…

Sangre en el aire. Cielo rojo. Cielo rojo. Rios llorando. Piedras sangrando.

Es un Colibri tecnologico del mas alla que ha venido a revelar los secretos.

El libro se escribe solo…Sola se cuentan las historias del sol y de la luna. Me quedo y soy feliz con mis plumas y la magia solaris-lunaris. Se ha bajado de la nube de verano del pacifico. Ha regresado a su magica realidad. Es una con la luna. Son las emociones locas transcenderas.

Fue poema. Se hizo cancion y ahora historia.

Xara le habia contando al hombre de la Luna de aquella vez cuando era niño y yu mama la habia embarrado en manteca y le habia puesto tortillas por doquier. Tortillas en todo el cuerpo para que no la pudieran ver. Para que no la pudieran sentir. Para que no fuera capturada. Para que no se la llevaran. Para que no se la cargara la chingada.

She was looking for him…

She called him by many names, the names she used to call him on earth… but he just would not come. AND then a little road. It was dark. Trees all around. Women in silence. Dark veils. Long dresses. She followed the path of the trees. They were waiting. Everyone in their own world.  Not sure who sent her there. Not sure how she got there but they were waiting for her. The beautiful native woman and the man of the feathers were there. The native woman knew she was sad. The native woman knew something was not okay…Her eyes could tell everything I was thinking. There was no need for her to talk. Her eyes could tell everything. She had arrived and they had offered her… Time passed. She does not remember what happened after. But she has been there before.

Inexplicable déjà vu.

And then she spoke: “I came looking for the man of the moon.” And the man of the feathers replied: Acaso no has entendido? Acaso no has aprendido? Haven’t you understood? Haven’t you learned?

She had been looking for him in the universe. She had called him all the names she remembered calling him on earth. She wandered the universe alone looking for the man of the moon. She walked the deserts with no shoes. She knows he is not physical. She is not looking his physical form. She is looking for his wandering soul.

The war of information… the clashing paradigms. She is awake. A world drowning in words. A world drowning in paradoxical ignorance. She is no savage for her heart follows the cyclic rhythms of the universe. A plastic world created and disconnected from its mother, from its wisdom, from its freedom, from its mysticism. After years and years of conditioning. Confusion. Ignorance. She believes in the power of the sun and the moon and the earth and the rain… They cannot take that away from her. The connection has been established.

She is connected to the temple of the sacred technology. #TheMotherBoard is real.

Sounds getting intense. She hears them but there is so much interception. He is there. Is he hiding? They told her he is there.

 The red fairy had also entered and seen the…

It is not easy to translate their language. There is so much interception.

 So many in between.

Es una liana del alma. Es una con las raizes del arbol de la luz.

Las has visto. Las ha sentido. Es la magia tan real como la ignorancia voraz de la…

She finds healing in the tree of creative expression and symbolic living.

Con que version de mi quieres charlar hoy? Viven muchas, viven muchos dentro mi.

Vive en la zona, bajo la montaña de las sombras.

She lives on shadow mountain.

Where have the sirens gone? Have they eaten them? Have they consumed their magic? What happened to my sisters? Where are my sisters? She cries for the magic gone out of this world. She weeps. She cries. She hears the electric wings of the white macaw. There she is… flying with the pink feathers and the silver eyes. There she is flying with pink feathers…

Shadows. The Maya. The lies. The Curtains of Deceptions. The treason. The audacity…

 Her roots getting deeper above and below.

La guacamaya blanca habia viajado desde la luna para visitar. Porque el quetzal habia oido su voz en el color de las flores desérticas. Tenia un mensaje para el corazón de la guacamaya roja, guacamaya azul. Porque hasta las flores tienen voz. Porque hasta las flores tienen esencia, la esencia de la luna mágica plateada de verano.

Es la esencia de las pluma gris. Es la esencia de los pétalos de rosas de las nubes.

Porque son esencias las creadoras de mundos imperceptibles.

Piensan que el cuerpo lo es todo… te mienten… te han mentido. Te han dividido.

 Un ojo nunca deja de ser ojo por mas que no pueda ver.

Un oido nunca deja de ser oido por mas que no pueda oir.

Las almas no dejan de ser, de amar por no tener cuerpo.

Las almas no dejan de ser por no existir en lo material.

We share the same space.

Es el cuerpo una herramienta necesaria para la experiencia humana.

Y si te hablara del mother matrix … me escucharias?

Y si te dijera que hay muchas dimensiones y que el cuerpo no es nada mas que un interprete…un traductor…me creerias?

Dimensions on top of each other. To the future. To the past.

Son los regalos, los regalos magicos del hombre leon de la luna.

Son los regalos de la princesa Xara.

Es eléctrica en la oscuridad. La ha visto bajar.

La ha visto de cerca volando con los rayos del trueno solar.

Se abren al acercarse.

Perdio la estrella de su vida. Hoy solo le queda la luna y un frio interno y la tiniebla en un camino incierto de mistica soledad. Pero no es cierto. Eso piensa pero no es la realidad. Porque tronara y el cielo se habrira y caeran juntos en otra realidad. Porque tronara. El cielo se abrira. Rayos caeran y una vida nueva en otro mundo comenzaran. Brillara… pues muchos soles habra. Reinaran… pues un nuevo mundo construiran. La matrix ya habia hablado. “Se les dara una nueva oportunidad.” Por el momento el hombre de la luna necesitaba descansar y Xara, the shining flower, ha de terminar el libro de purple magic antes de dejar la tierra.

She misses him so much but she no longer has tears left in her body. The water of her body is drying. She is evaporating. She is transforming.

The social engineering of the language continues. It continues with the trauma of the body language and the innocent children of the world. It continues with the conditioning of the mind and the slicing of the heart. It continues to obstruct. It continues with the depersonalization. The world they are planning is not for her.

She feels constricted and that world ain’t even here.

 She sings and clears the energy with her hands.

She sings and creates fire tornados all around.

Her chants will obliterate them.

 Her chants will send them back crawling to the shadows for purification.

De frente. Volando rosa-electricamente en la oscuridad del universo.

Llego. No se como pero la guacamaya blanca viajo desde la luna y nos esta visitando.

 Habia salido del vortex de las flores blancas, rosas, y amarillas. Se han desaparecido. El portal se ha cerrado. Gracias. No podia dejar de mirar. Habia estacionado su carro. Voltio hacia la izquierda y el trance comenzo. Escucho la voz, la voz de las sirenas del mas alla. Estaban ahi. Todo este tiempo. En la tierra habian sembrado su magia para que alguien las pudiera ayudar. Derepente las vio y su belleza cautivadora la llevo a un viaje en pleno dia soleado. Porque hasta las belleza hace ensoñar. Porque hasta las flores sienten. Porque hasta las flores caminan.

La adornan las rosas, los petalos del campo. Es pluma gris.???

Electrical static of the human brain… Synapses…. Rewiring… Neuroplasticity in process… Reviving… Resetting. Looking back into the window of the heart. She closes her eyes.

 Le agradecen por dejarlas escapar… se fueron… volaron al oir la cancion de la guacamaya blanca… Son las sirenas de la tierra liberadas. Tanto tiempo esperaron pero ahora son mas magicas. Han recuperado sus tesoros.

Purple magic for the wildest dreams come true.

Se conecta y vuela y crea nuevos mundos desde y con el Corazon.

Es visionaria con saberes ancestrales.

  Es la locura el amor de la bravura.

 No se olvida de la historia de los ojos de agua de la sierra

Son infinitos. Es ahi donde se van los arboles con las lluvia.

Es ahi el misterio de la tormenta del ser.

Es ahi donde …

Es donde vive lo desconocido.

Son profundos cañones. A donde nos llevan? Al corazon de la tierra. A donde nos llevan? A las cavernas de la oscuridad de la energia solaris? A donde nos llevan… Al corazon del infinito?

 El dios del sereno sale de las tinieblas.

Entidades desencarnadas

Legan, llegan del cielo

llegan, se van

Es LA tierra un aerepuerto.

Es el leon de las nubes esperando a su amada detras de la alborada.

Es el espiral invisible que ha visto serpentear desde hace dias.

Es Colibri tecnologico y mensajero los que abren y cierran circulos energeticos.

Son las cosquillas… de la sabia luna y sus plumas

Son las LUNAS, Son las PLUMAS de la guacamaya de la cuna de la sabia LUNA…

No querida, no tienen mi voz. No tienen mi esencia solaris-lunaris. Y nisiquiera mis palabras.

Desprendimiento fisico.

Se ha convertido. Ha aceptado su…

Vuela, vuela que vida tan loca.

Nostalgica guitarra electrica arrastrandose. Su cuerpo habla. De su cuerpo salen las palabras… El brillo del sol se refleja en su piel, en su cara, en su cabello. La luna lo ha bañado con su Rocio nocturnal. Respira, Cierra los ojos. Da Vuelta su cabeza. Sigue pensando en el hombre pez vela. Manos en el aire. Lo siente. Siente la profundidad de las palabras en el centro plexo solar. Ahora piensa en…No esta sola. Tiene los ojos de la luna. Siente emociones en su nucleo. Respira y las deja ir. No esta viva. No esta muerta… reposa en la interperie de los recuerdos del alma. Sin el aun en el mundo fisico hay rayos de esperanza. Canta desde su raiz solar. Es una noche melancolica y su voz un… No esta loca. Libertad de sentir las voces del mas alla… Respira. Dentro y fuera. Ya viene la noche. Ya viene Quetzalcoatl. Ya llega de la alborada la serpiente preciosa de rocas de colores. Veo el hombre de la luna detras de las alas electricas. Se mueve. Ahora esta galopando con la guacamaya blanca. Petalos de rosas. Cielo azul. Panderos. Manos bailarinas. Locas noches de escrituras surrealistas. No se esta volviendo loca. Brillo chillante solar de sus ojos. No se esta volviendo loca. Son los sonidos acusticos. Son las flores que no quieren ser capturadas. No son ciegas. Son las flores… Las que corrieron… las que saquearon. Las que lloran perlas por las tierras. Las no calladas. Las sagradas guerreras de la luna. Las sirenas que tuvieron tiempo de convertirse en flores, las floresitas de la tierra.

Es la electronica del space rock y las liricas emocionales. Es la vanguardia del dia el sentir con el  corazon solar. Synesthesia-electronica-corporeal para conectarse con el cosmic motherboard.

Son las voces transcenderas. Sonidos nostalgicos entheodelicos.

Recuerdos amaneceres.

No quiere estar viva. No quiere estar muerta.

Sigue las señales de las plumas.

Voces Hipnoticas, sonidos de otros mundos.

Espirales dentro de su ser…

Frecuencias hipnoticas por doquier.

Sabe lo que es estar entre la vida y la muerte.

Son los recuerdos aun mas claros y esclarecientes.

Siente el llamado de las rocas del fuego. El fuego la esta llamando. El fuego poco a poco se esta acercando. El fuego se acerca. Esta dentro de ella. Se cae. Se inca.  Besa la tierra. Rojo fuego dorado Quetzalcotl, coatl, coatl. Cielo azul plateado. Se funde con las llamas de las rocas del fuego del pasado.

Sensations at the cellular level …

Internal sense of the inner self…

Y site dijera que todo es possible… y que lo unico que nos limita es la propia percepción de nuestro ser… Porque somos conciencia. Y el cuerpo es un traje cosmico para saber lo que es ser humano. Somos…

…Somatosensory shock… Catharsis…Biogenesis

 Espectros… espectros descubriendo la magia del universo.

Se ha dado cuenta. Ha visto de cerca la raiz solar. Ahora todo es mas claro. Ahora entiendo lo que siempre he sido. Lo que soy. Lo que quiero y sere.

Donde estas amada alma de mi Corazon? Que puedo hacer?

Que puedo hacer? Que puedo mover para estar junto a ti?

Bebera del agua de la luna si acaso tiene que.

 She will drink from the waters of the moons if she has to.

Ha activado el proceso celular para renacer. Ha unido sus almas con el sol. Que mas se puede hacer para tu ser sea revelado en este instante? No hay cosa que no hara para estar de nuevo juntos en la divina eternidad.

 Es de esas que toca la Gloria, se retira, y vuelve a gozar en niveles superiores.

Porque hasta lo mundano mata.

Cosmica estrella reluciente del mas alla que baja y sube en la matrix divina del arbol de luz.

 Encroaching… fakeness… plastic world…

She is a bitch in her dreams. If you are not invited… you better not show up… or else… she will kick you the fuck out of her dimension.

She does not welcome the uninvited… the ones out of the blue. The wanderers. The ones that come and go. They try to trick her into… oh sorry I did not know this was your land. Bitch. You did and you came anyways. Be gone. Out of my sight. I don’t even want to hear what you want. You come back and I will burn you in a flash. Inti-magic is no joke.

She is having problems breathing.

Le duele el Corazon. No puede respirar. El mundo plastico la asfixia.

The nature of the plastic dystopia is asphyxiating.

She wants OUT!!! She feels claustrophobic with the fake nature around.

Existential Crisis. An exorcism of the soul… The expulsion, the purgation of ancient paradigms now out of her system.

Oppressive nature BE GONE…OUT OF ME… OUT OF MY BODY, Mind and soul…

May you be exorcised out of me…out of the collective universal consciousness… out of ignorance… out of chaos… out of confusion… out of fear… out of control… out of the unknown…

Be gone of this world. Be gone of this universe. Be gone and find love…

So much emotional hypersensitivity in a world denying equanimity.

She has learned that depression and anxiety shrink our hippocampus and prevent us from learning and accessing our precious memories. She has learned that the amygdala gets bigger when a person is exposed to toxic stresses, depression, and anxiety. She has learned that a depressed person in an environment absent of life is poisonous. The heart stops. She kisses the earth. She is no longer blind. The cultural programming… the fake code… the plastic cage… the masks…the solitude… the hidden agendas…the impostor of the social engineering of the soul has been taken out from the root… “Because let me tell you… IT IS STRONG,” says the White Macaw.

Not only is she having problems accessing memories and learning new material.

She is experiencing a roller-coaster of emotions in motions, memories, feelings, desires…

Electric guitars… Electric guitars….

Cries in the wind wishing for hope…

I ask for guidance. I ask for a sacred Space to heal my consciousness so that I can be truly me. And the longer she looks, the more she realizes that the extraterrestrial is her.

She is the extraterrestrial.

 She is a flying-feathered serpent. She remembers. She remembers the sacred wisdoms of the perception of the state of the body…

Because material technology is not even a close replica of the inner technology of the world of the souls.

And so it is a… it is a…Phenomenological experience of the body state and a product of the central nervous system.

Sensations dissolving.

The gut feeling is a vortex of moods, feelings, attitudes and inspirations.

Es una conciencia interoceptive.

 Es todo. Es todo una conciencia interoceptive.

She does not. She will not be in a plastic box. She will not let a mask take her voice.

She will not be caged. She will not let them alter her biotechnological code.

She will obliterate them will her ancestral chants.

It would not be the first time.

She is ready.

Anytime now.

No regrets.

The shadows have yet to see her sing.

The war of the chants has started.

She has found the codes to the palace of the sacred temple of technology.

Her future home awaits her.

Her future family is watching from the stars.

No one can stop her.

 She is shielded.

Everyone is watching. Now who is the observer?

 Who is the Observee…?

Venus the flower is on her side. Don’t ask who she is.  Don’t summon her name.

She embraces humanity. She accepts her humanity. She lets go of her body. She blows it off her body. She goes up the ladder of glitter, embraced by the wise vine of the souls so that their bodies can transform themselves into the precious light that they need to be to be with and in the world of the shadows of the man in the moon.

She will not be in limbo…

…Gravitational rainbows…

… She will leave the earth gratefully and blessed with the sacred elements. Because they were. Because they are the ones who have built and lent him his magical biology, that organic cosmic suit that has served her to discover the mystical millennial being that she is and to re-discover the internal pyramid of knowledge and the ancestral keys that have opened portals of imperceptible worlds and essences.

“Never try to heal the body without first having healed the soul,” the Master Matrix tells him. Flutes in the background.

Observe your nature. Now, who is the observer? Who is the one being observed?

“We are just passing through. Everyone chooses to take care of their biological suit in their own way. Everything is movement. The universe rotates. Why and what are the teachings for if not to illuminate others? It’s just a matter of asking the universe, “says la maga de las plantas.

She embraces her humanity. She accepts it. He lets go of her body so she can transmute so that her body can transform into the body of light. She is excited to get her wings.

She trusts the air even though she cannot see it. She is coming, Aya is coming from the jungle with the medicine of the solar ancient heart to heal the children of the broken hearts. She is here from the other side of the moon. Her spirit, her magical ancestral chants now awakening the visions, the network, the hyperdimensional lore. She dances. She dances. Sacred Trance. Non-stop. Hands dancing in the air. Hula Hips. She trusts the soul even though she cannot see it like the healing winds and the visions of the healer within.

She loves to write. Writing while listening to music is like Cali surfing in the waters of the pacific. She likes to surf in the luminosity of the music. The music is the water of emotions that guides her in the path to self-realization and total connection with the serpent creatrix.

Her soul is liquid.

Serpent-birds birthing from the solar heart.

Chirpings, chirpings rising…

She is. He is a Divine Quetzalcoatl.

Looking to visit the desert? Need a tour guide to show you the beauties of the Coachella Valley? Do you want to learn about the rich history of the desert? Do you want to connect with the inti-magic of the desert? Visiting the desert could very well be the cure to your body, mind, and spirit.

 Schedule a fun and magical PERSONALIZED day with Matthew at support@kratomoflife.com or via text/call 760-978-7184.

Fine Dining. Hiking. Awesome Mountain Views. Indian Canyons. Vintage. El Paseo Shopping Center Extravaganza. Palm Trees. Pool. Palm Springs Aerial TramWay. Joshua Tree. Antiquity. Cali-Desert Spirituality. Hyperdimensional Wisdom of the Earth & the Sky. Palm Springs Wind Mill Tour. Coachella Magic. 

#HyperActiveEmotions

#Phenomenology

Reference

https://neurosciencenews-com.cdn.ampproject.org/c/s/neurosciencenews.com/brain-size-depression-anxiety-16769/amp/

#PlumaLunaris

#Interoception.

#InterocepvtiveAwareness
#HastaLasPlumasTienenVida
#HastaLasPlumasSonSabias
#DesertMagic

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