Theological Terrorism and Theological Mandates: On the Poison of Raping the Soul

An impromptu outpour, stomping on all talking points for the sake of love, sending it raw

Introduction

This is a part of my series on addressing trauma with honesty, without pretense. I am working on a central piece of the series, and as I am working on it, different side stories show up and want to be told. This one is about theological trauma, the trauma that has been created over the  centuries and is still being created in real time by the people who want to control the world. (In the past, they have used a great amount of physical violence and forced religious reforms. Today, they use violence every now and then but in most places, they are in the “trauma maintenance” mode, and so they use good, sincere, loving people with trauma, especially parents, to pass the “code” on.) And yes, they have used every noble talking point, every ism, every major religious tradition to “code” spiritual  powerlessness into people’s energy, very similarly to how today, they are using “sustainable development,” “community standards,” and “public health” to promote destruction of life, censorship, and disease.

An important remark: I sincerely respect everyone’s sovereign way of believing and praying, and I respect it with love It is my observation that every one of us creates a spiritual faith that is unique to us, even if we use similar words to describe our faith. There are no two Christians whose feeling of God is exactly the same, no two Buddhists with the same understanding of Buddhism, no two  identical “pagans,” etc.

At the end of the day, I feel that when we pray with love, when we pray for healing, we pray to the same Creator, and it’s our right to do it in our own way. I also feel that it is human nature to like our own way a little better than other people’s ways because we like what works for us, but when we are balanced, we don’t care strongly what other people do as long as we can do what we want to do. If the way I said it here, with the focus on love and not on the theological brand, if that makes you a little resentful or makes you want to defend the superiority of your way, there could be a trauma lurking somewhere, and please know that you have my love regardless of whether we agree or disagree.

By the way, I have written a couple of stories that clarify all this, if you want to understand my general train of thought, you can find them here, here and here.

A simple experiment

Let  us start with a simple experiment.

Please do this (if you are so inclined).  Think the words, “God’s will,” and then listen to what your body says.

What do you feel? Do you feel infinite, perfect as you are in God’s eyes, and loved, or do you feel full of holes and small? Do you want to dance uncontrollably from eternal joy—-or cry to the skies from the pain that has been building up inside you but now that you are  thinking about perfection, you can no longer hold?  Do you feel like a participant in the most beautiful mystery that is so much bigger than you, or do you just look up at the church ceiling, want to reach something eternal up there that you vaguely remember and long to reach, and you try to reach but you just can’t reach?

Ponder how you it made you feel, and what it says about your relationship with God. Actually, with your parents, with authority, and with God. What do you feel?

Why is it that God is love, but there is so much pain?

I was growing up at a time when the atheist Soviet Russia suddenly—with spiritual hunger transforming into dogma—embraced the Orthodox Christian faith.

Given my culture, it was the Christian lens through which I asked myself the question about God’s love and world’s pain.

Wait … I am on a journey now … I am going back to my teen years and that sudden all-Russian transition to the Orthodox faith… “Watch your skirt length, yo! Watch that music you are listening to! Shame on you for making out with the  boy you love on the bus! You!!!How dare you enter a church without a headscarf, bad, bad, bad? Oh and have you heard that so and is filing for divorce? Doesn’t she know she is going to hell?!!” Etc.)  

Sorry, memories. I got memories. It was very emotional for me, that transition. People were threatening hell to me left and right for my music, my incenses, my interest in Eastern philosophy, my tight pants… as I started remembering that time, I got sidetracked by the trauma of another kind.

They were brutal, those enforcers of God’s will. There was that one guy with a mad shine in his eyes, I was terrified when he called. He was very unkind. He desired me politely but very obviously, he told me horrible stories about punishing sinful women (witches), and I was terrified.

All that heavy energy, all that guilting and shaming. It is so wrong to do it to a human being! I was already wronged by a well-intended, brave, but confused and poisonous-talking priest who told me about being born bad.  I was a preschooler, my mom took me to be baptized, in secret, with the best of intentions. Religion was still off limits in the USSR. It was brave, and it was bad. He was brave, and he was wrong. One should never poison a kid. This should never be done.

Back to the mystery

So yes, with all the “Christian revival” around me, I tried to understand the mystery of God’s love and ubiquitous pain through the Christian lens. I could not figure it out through the Christian lens in an honest way. Every answer I came up with required that I twist my thinking in order to reconcile the omnipotent love of God and the objectively existing horrible pain.

I was very motivated to understand how the world works though. I considered becoming a nun.  

At as teenager still, I discovered Buddhism and dug in there. I  liked Buddhism, it was less oppressive, nobody cared about the length of my skirt (not the Russian Buddhists, anyway). Actually, Tibetan Buddhists cared about the length of my skirt in the opposite way, but that’s another conversation for another day, maybe.

Buddhist philosophy was joyous to me while it lasted but—impermanence!—its joy didn’t last, it didn’t satisfy me just the way my soul wanted to be satisfied.

It was years before I came upon a philosophy that made sense to me, and it was the “indigenous” way to look at  where we come from and where we go.

I would like to make a comment here that the word “indigenous” is a funny word. In the language of today, “indigenous" is a qualifier, it comes with a feeling that is a combination of “primitive” and “unrealistically pristine.” What it actually means just local to the land, and the way our indigenous Ancestors related to the Creator was just normal, you know, the old normal, the normal normal (like “organic food” was just “food” before things were poisoned, etc.). So, the ”indigenous” worldviews, the worldviews  that  differed from one place to another but carried some common threads, were just the old normal that existed on earth before the controllers of the olden days did their “great resets.”  

If you are not familiar with the indigenous concept of destiny (a path that we choose on our free will before being born as a human being on Earth with the full approved by the Creator, which means that we arrive here with the full spiritual permission and all the tools to do our life’s job), you may want to read the intro to the series as it sheds light on a more hopeful way of thinking about how to heal pain. 

Protesting theological terrorism

Many of us have been standing together in the past four years, protesting medical bullying, forced masking, vaccines mandates.

I hope that more people see and feel that a mandate is a mandate is a mandate, and that there is no worse mandate than a mandate on one’s soul. Theological mandates are acts of spiritual terrorism. Theological mandates are wicked, and the state of the world we are living in today is to a large extent a result of theological mandates and the pain and the confusion that has been caused (intentionally) by the twisting of people’s souls. And then the good people who had been shocked passed it to their children, and they passed it to their children, and today, so many generations later, no one remembers what happened exactly or the original message of terror but the cellular memory and the mostly suppressed angry feeling of being raped is still there, screaming to be taken out into the broad daylight, seen, loved, and fully healed.

I cry for my ancestors who were force-converted to Christianity. I hear their screams. I love them. They deserve recognition and love. They are calling on me to tell the world that they were wronged, that they did nothing wrong, and that they stand in love.

The geopolitical wickedness had nothing to do with God. It had nothing to do with the truth. It was merely about control.

They, my blood, my family, the bones that gave life to many generations after, they were lied about, they were slandered, their connection to the Creator was lied about for over ten centuries, the people who wanted control got the upper hand and broke many spines but the wicked ones still live on God’s time.

My beloved ancestors  are calling on me to tell the truth.

We cannot effectively oppose this great reset if we don’t recognize the energy pattern driving it, and refuse to comply with the energy pattern itself.

We all have ancestors who went through massive murder and rape. Unless we face it, unless we see it for what it was and pray to heal it (talk to Jesus, to Allah, to the universe, to the Ancestors, however we feel the Creator’s love), we still carry their pain. Our ancient ancestors are calling on us. We are their blood, we are their bones. We are also their hope. They lived for a reason just like we live for a reason, they hear us, they stand with us, they support us, and they stand in love. One love. Different religions, one love.

We are worthy.

God is not a rapist, we can heal all, we exist for love.

Photo by Chris Briggs on Unsplash

PS. Link to the chat with the info about today’s Friday paid subscriber call where we will dive in into this (Friday August 9 at 2pm EST)

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