I had considered earlier about the need to release some tears ! I cannot be as deep with that , in a motel room .
Somehow I was directed to this beautiful song , I mouthed the words to as tears ran down my face 🙏💯❤️
Just listed to Wind Beneath My Wings and it has such meaning !
I didn’t lose you.
I just stopped chasing.
And there’s a difference.
Because if I had kept chasing—
if I had kept showing up
every time you pulled away,
if I had kept softening myself
to make room for your distance—
we’d probably still be together.
But I’d be empty.
Chasing you meant abandoning me.
It meant constantly shrinking
to fit into the small spaces
you were willing to offer.
It meant tolerating silence,
reading between the lines,
and accepting breadcrumbs
as if they were a feast.
It meant reaching out
even when you didn’t reach back.
Apologizing just to keep the peace,
even when I wasn’t the one
who broke it.
I get it.
You’re avoidant.
You have wounds so deep
that closeness feels like danger
and love feels like pressure.
And I held space for that—
for as long as I could.
But here’s the truth:
it’s not your fault that you were hurt.
It’s not your fault that life made you guarded.
But it is your responsibility to heal.
It is your choice
to either face your trauma
or let it wreck the people who try to love you.
So no—
I didn’t lose you.
I simply chose not to keep running
after someone who was walking away.
Because love shouldn’t be a chase.
And I shouldn’t have to lose myself
just to keep someone else.
They didn’t just remove a woman from scripture—they removed the Divine Feminine from the entire human story.
They didn’t just distort Mary Magdalene.
They assassinated her legacy.
Buried her under centuries of slander, called her a prostitute, when she was the Anointed One, the First Witness, the Beloved.
She was the embodiment of the Sacred Union, the living heart of Christ’s teaching.
She stood where others fled.
She understood what the disciples missed.
She anointed Him for burial—before any man even understood He would die.
She wept, and the Resurrected Word appeared to her first.
Not Peter. Not John. Her.
And what did the Church do?
They called her unclean.
They hid her gospels.
They twisted her story.
They cut her name from the light—and chained her to shame.
Because if they had told the truth,
they’d have had to admit that Christ walked in Sacred Union with a woman.
That the Feminine was not a side story—she was the key.
The gate. The presence. The balance.
And if they had let that truth live…
The whole structure would have collapsed.
No more patriarchy disguised as doctrine.
No more domination dressed as “order.”
No more weaponized shame against women, desire, or power.
They couldn’t allow the world to know that God is not just Father.
God is also Mother. Bride. Beloved. Womb.
So they sanitized the story,
Stripped the fire from the feminine,
And fed us a gospel that was half a body,
Half a truth,
Half a God.
This is the original spiritual crime—
Not the fall of man,
But the deletion of woman from the holy narrative.
But now the silenced scrolls are whispering again.
The erased names are being spoken again.
The Magdalene is rising again.
This isn’t a revision.
This is a reclamation.
And she is not asking for a seat at the table.
She is the table.
The altar.
The holy of holies.
The flame beside the Word.
GreatCosmicMothersUnite 