 Hello everybody. Welcome to part four on our Magdalene series where we're going through the book Mary Magdalene Revealed by Megan Watterson. I can't believe we're already on part four of this book and I've had such amazing feedback from you guys. I'm so so happy that you guys are really digging the series. I am too. I am right here with you guys learning with you all. Normally, when I cover like the missing books of the Bible, especially with David Zublik, I will often read the section. I'm going to present first to do some research before I film it. But with this book, I am reading it live with you all for the very, very first time. And so all the emotions that have come up in these past episodes from me are my genuine first reactions to the writings and the story of Mary Magdalene. So I had somebody comment that they were sad that I got emotional at the end of part two where I was reading about Mary's love for the Christ and we spoke about twin flames. I want to assure you guys that I wasn't those were not sad tears. Those were just emotional tears because I could feel the vibration of that love very, very strongly. And so most of the emotions that you will see me have going through this book, I can assure you are probably not those of sadness, but more of happiness or actually feeling that love that's being spoken about in this writing. I also want to mention to you that the person that Mary Magdalene was married to, her twin flame, his name was Yahshua. And together the two of them made the Christ. Now, sometimes I will say Yahshua or Jesus because I want to make sure that we're all on the same page. And so we all understand who I am actually referring to. But I do know, as most of you do know, that Jesus was not his name. And in fact, the story of Jesus mimics the story of Mithra. I'm not going to go into too much detail right now about Mithraism. I have spoken about that to the point of exhaustion, but there are some videos on this channel where I review that. I will tag them down in the description box below if that's something that you are interested in. I also want to point out again that I have done a deep dive into the King James Bible. And so for me and my untangling of all these tangled webs of confusion and lies, I do not actually put any type of value into the canonized Bible. And that is because I know, I know that it has been manipulated, especially by King James. I know by me saying that it's going to ruffle some feathers and I apologize if that triggers people. But just because I don't believe the canonized Bible to be accurate does not believe that I don't believe the Bible is the Lord of God. The only difference is we haven't actually seen the Bible. The true Bible, the true story is somewhere under the Vatican inside the library. So for me and my deconstruction of the matrix of religion, I have heavily relied on the missing books of the Bible that we have available to us. But more importantly, I am relying on my own intuition and my own relationship with divine creator. And I do want to remind everybody that any type of comments I make regarding this material, regarding the Magdalen, regarding Yeshua or the Bible are strictly my opinions based on my own research. You obviously are entitled to your own opinions and your own gut reaction to things. And I ask each and every one of you to listen to your own gut reaction, because that that should give you more of an indication of what resonates with you and what doesn't. But more importantly, I do want to keep the series about Mary Magdalene or as I prefer to call her the Magdalene. Because once again, what we've come to understand is that Yeshua would not have existed without her and she would not have existed without Yeshua. I also want to play out that once we finish this book, we're going to be moving into some other material regarding the divine feminine, the Magdalene, and we're eventually going to get to the priestess hood of Isis. But for today, we're going to be starting part four with the passion of Saint Perpetua. Matter gave birth to a passion which has no image because it derives from what is contrary to nature, a disturbing confusion that occurred in the whole body. That is why I told you, become content at heart while also remaining discontent and disobedient. Indeed, become contented and agreeable only in the presence of that other image of nature. Anyone with two ears capable of hearing should listen. The Gospel of Mary chapter 3 verses 10 through 14. Perpetua had just recently given birth. Her prison guards allowed her to nurse her son while she awaited sentencing. And perhaps because she was a noble woman from the uppermost class in Roman society, they also allowed her some amenities, a pen, ink, and a papyrus. This is how we know so much about her. Her prison diary from 203 later referred to as the Passion of Saint Perpetua is considered one of the earliest Christian writings we have. Its emotion, its beauty, and its bravery articulate the vision of a form of faith more radical than what Christianity would become even a century later. Now this kind of came up and this is just my speculation right now given my research and me trying to figure out what the hell is happening with our timeline. I'm actually under the impression right now the Roman Empire didn't exist. I know that sounds wild. I know that's probably going to trigger a lot of people. I could be wrong, but right now I'm looking at the way things were timelineed and I know that they added some information into our timeline that is frankly not true. So it's under my belief that this Roman Empire they're speaking about might actually be the remains of Atlantis. But again, I could be wrong and this is just me sharing with you guys kind of where my opinion is going. I might change it later. So just take it as it is with the grain of salt. She was 22 years old. She was a daughter to her father, a wife to her husband and a mother to her newborn son. But none of these positions as a woman mattered more to her than the truth that she was as a Christian. And this is why Perpetua was in prison. Felicitas, a slave who was eight months pregnant, was imprisoned with her. I've always imagined that they comforted and supported each other. Since now they were no longer separate. They were no longer defied by Rome's strict, hierarchical structures as a free woman and a slave. They were sisters equal. And this is what made them so dangerous. At this time in ancient Carthage, a Roman occupied North Africa at the start of the third century, converting to Christianity was a crime punishable by death. And this was primarily because Christian's belief turned the Roman structure of power and authority on its head. Christianity's premise that we are all equal in the eyes of God or the good in Mary's Gospel level the fervently held beliefs in society that were based on sex, race, property, wealth and citizenship. Women were defied by their social status as daughters, wives and mothers. And women, no matter their social standing, were considered property with as little rights as a slave. The emperor could have no other rival, not even God. So to honor and celebrate the emperor's birthday, several young Christians, Christian converts under instruction in their faith before baptism were rounded up and held captive. The Christians in training had two choices, renounce their faith, or be thrown into the arena for public execution. Perpetuous father visited her several times before her sentencing to plead with her to remember her fidelity to him as his daughter, to remember her place in the order of things. My father, she explained in her diary, because of his love for me, wanted to change my mind and shake my resolve. During one of these visits, she asked him, Father, do you see this face here? Could it be called by any other name than what it is? No, he replied. Well, neither can I be called by anything other than what I am, a Christian. When Christ says at the end of this passage, from Mary 314, anyone with two ears capable of hearing should listen, he isn't, of course, referring to our actual ears or the capacity to hear sounds. He's referring to an ability to hear or understand the messages within the words. This is what I hear when I read this passage. Matter gave birth to a passion, which for me means the ego. The ego, this passion that matter our body gives birth to has no real image or identity. Image here is what's lasting and eternal. The ego will die when matter dies. So it is contrary to this more unconditional aspect of our self, our soul, our image. This image, as we'll go deeper into, further on in Mary's Gospel resides in the heart. The command, become content at heart is to say, merge with the image, become more identified with the image of the true self, rather than the ego, which will pass away when the body does. Remain discontent and disobedient with the ego, not only our own but also others. Don't let the rules, projections, and expectations of a society that doesn't see your true image define you. Only become content and agreeable with the image of yourself that's free from the limits of the ego. Only the soul will satisfy you and be able to define the nature of who you really are. Again, this goes right back into the teachings of yoga between property and purusha, property being nature, purusha being the soul, and the fact that man's suffering comes from the idea that man confuses himself. He thinks that his nature, his ego, his property is what is eternal and therefore gives little credit to the soul, when we know that the nature will eventually succumb to the laws of nature and that is change in death. Whereas the soul is eternal and therefore is not under the same contract or law as the body. Perpetua never wavered. She had become content at heart. She knew she would never renounce her faith. She prayed, though, for a dream on how to face the fast approaching date of her sentencing. She writes in her journal of a golden ladder she climbed in a dream that extended up into heaven. The dream had come to her as an answered prayer. At the base was a ferocious dragon. On either side of the ladder, just an inch to the left and to the right of each rung, there were all kinds of deadly weapons. She stepped onto the dragon's head to climb the ladder and then she ascended carefully to avoid the man-made instruments of combat and war. She made it to heaven in a dream and this emboldened her as she stood trial and confessed that she was a Christian. She also had a dream of fighting an Egyptian soldier in Marina. She watched as her body morphed from being female to suddenly being male naked and oiled up the bath. She succeeded in this dream as well. So when she was let out into the arena stripped naked and standing before her sister Christian, Felicitas, it is said that she screamed out confidently to the crowd again and again, love one another, discontent and disobedient until her last breath to remain content at heart. This brings us to the next section, Grandma Betty's light bulb eyes. When the blessed one has said these things, he greeted them all, peace be with you, he said and acquire my peace within yourselves. The Gospel of Mary chapter four verses one through two. My grandmother who believed in beer and angels and equal measure was one of the first Christians I ever met. What I mean is knowing her, hearing what Jesus meant to her, what she heard when she read Scripture, helped me to understand that it wasn't the Bible that terrified me, it was the way it had been interpreted. She was a presence of love to everyone she encountered, not just to other Christians. She exuded this profound acceptance, this beautiful refusal to ever judge. There was no hidden agenda, no guilt or coercion, which she mentioned a certain passage from Scripture or quoted a song. I woke up early one morning when I was home from college, when I was wracked with insomnia, when the early tremors of a full-blown anxiety disorder were just starting to bloom. I was so profoundly lost. No, that isn't it. I mean, that's the phrase we use for this stage of life. That's confusing, not a kid, not quite an adult mess, but it's not what I was really feeling. I knew exactly who I was, and I knew exactly what I had lost. There was a piece of me that felt missing, an elusive, ephemal, and yet essential piece of me. Without it, I felt like I was watching my life happen. I was witnessing it, but I wasn't really present in it. I was perpetually caught up in my own thoughts. I was locked in the past or feeling dread about the future. That morning, Grandma Betty was standing by the kitchen window holding a cup of coffee. Her hands shook as she lifted the cup slowly to her lips. She saw me and smiled her quiet, relaxed smile. It was a smile that wasn't forced. It didn't ask me to smile back. It seemed to start from somewhere inside her, as if what I saw in her face was just the tip of the iceberg. She was so serene, so content, and in comparison, I felt like this very tired and very tiny hurricane. She wasn't alone, not ever. That's what it felt like to me. When I was around her, I felt like I was in the company of way more than just her. As if I was walking in on something, a meeting, a dialogue, a love affair. Even as she stood there by herself in her little flannel nightgown that went clear up to her neck, smiling out as a blank, depressive gray December at only Cleveland can muster. She was present to the presence that resided within in her, a presence that seemed to never leave her, a presence that filled her with love that lit up her face and made her eyes beam as the two candles were blazing behind them. We had become pin pals when I left for college and we continued corresponding years later when I began my first of ultimately three pilgrimages in search of that light she seemed to innately possess. I studied with theologians, old and New Testament scholars, but somehow for me Grandma Betty was always the ultimate authority when it came to the scripture. I guess because she was living proof that she had read between the lines or digested the words in a way that had set her free. And many, many of the most acclaimed theologians didn't have Grandma Betty's light bulb eyes. They didn't possess that piece that inhaled and exhaled through her. So again, this is also going back to the idea of noses of inner knowing versus Edo, outer knowing. Edo is studying the scriptures. Edo is having a bunch of degrees, a bunch of letters behind your name, but it doesn't guarantee you that you're actually going to get it. The gnosis is something no one can teach you. It's just an inner knowing. And that is what the original Christians taught, right? That inner knowing of God, that inner knowing of that light, that spark of light. And it seems here in this writing that that is what she is describing her Grandma Betty had was gnosis. When Christ says, acquire my piece within yourselves in the gospel, Mary, I hear this as a direct to focus not on worshiping him, but on becoming like him. Do not distance him and distinguish him as other than us, but rather see him as an example of who we all have the potential to become. We can acquire his piece within ourselves, or at least that he proved to me it was possible. After Grandma Betty passed, my mom gave me one of her many letters she had kept from our correspondence over the years. It was worn at the edges and smelled like her. My handwriting is close cousin to hieroglyphics. She had read the letters so carefully that she marked all the words she had worked hard to figure out in pencil above my red ink. I sobbed when I saw this. I could feel her soft gaze and the slow careful attention she gave to my every sentiment. She had been my witness, my secret extraordinary minister to help me sort out why I sing to love Christ and yet cringe so often in church. What I learned at Divinity School and later in Seminary is that there is a story about Jesus that went out. There was a version of Christ that was created in the fourth century. Emperor Constantine in 313 by a single edict converted Christianity from this struggling persecuted and forbidden religion the one perpetual died for to a state religion redefined by men. You guys know I have a lot to say about Constantine. The process of compiling the current version of the Bible the one you would find say in the bedside table of a hotel room was guided by the need for a unified version of Christianity. In the wake of Christ there were many Christianities. There were many communities with varying ideas about about what or who had just walked the earth and beyond the metaphysics of what Christ's existence might subsequently mean there was also the more practical issue of authority. Who would have the authority to tell the story and again we know that it really wasn't about unifying Christianity. It was about propaganda and changing Christianity in something that's very satanic. But again this this book was written before The Great Awakening. A master story or lineage of Jesus is captured in the canon. However according to Dr. Karen King it's poor history. First of all the story is incomplete and noticeably slanted. The roles of women for example are almost completely submerged from view. This has become the master story that the canon in the Bible relates. The male Jesus selects male disciples who pass on the tradition and authority to male bishops. Yet King argues we know that in the early centuries and throughout Christian history women played prominent roles as apostles, deacons, preachers and prophets. And we do know that in fact in a lot of these missing books we see the role that women played in the Gospel of the Holy Twelve or the Gospel of the Nazarene Way. It is stated that Jesus had about 70 different apostles and disciples most of whom were actually women. In 325 Constantine called for the Council of Nicea where it was decided which scripture would become a part of the canon and which would become suppressed and subsequently destroyed. He also changed a bunch of stories too to make Jesus a story that of myth or a story and not actually Yahshua story. This is also when the church hammered out its official creed, the Nicene Creed which goes something like this. We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things visible and invisible. And in one Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God begotten of the Father before all worlds light of light, a very God begotten, not made, being in one substance of the Father by whom all things were made, whom for us men and for all salvation came down and was incarnated and was made man. The various scriptures that didn't make the cut to be part of the Canaanical Bible had all the common theme, the confirmation of the presence of women in Christ's ministry and its exceptional relationship with Mary Magdalene. But we know Mithraism was only a male-based faith and that's what Constantine turned Christianity into. He turned it into Mithraism. It was not, if you're going to church, you're not going to a Christian church, you're going to a Mithra church. It's just, it just is what it is. For example, the Gospel of Thomas and Philip, among others, confirm that there were three who were always with Jesus, Mary, his mother Mary, her sister and Mary Magdalene, who was called his companion. One of the most prominent issues that the Orthodox Church wanted to solve was how to define the role that women would play, especially when it came to apocalyptic authority. Would women get to be apostles too and have a real equal role in the church? Aside from funerals and baptism, the only time of year I went to church after meeting it was to attend a midnight service on Christmas Eve at the First Unitarian Church of Cleveland. This is when my mother would never fail to sob during silent night. They would pass around a box of little white paper candles with tiny paper skirts to catch the wax once they were lit. And then the lights in the sanctuary would be turned off and we'd slowly, in silence, one by one, light each of our candles by passing the flame around the room from wick to wick. They used to do that in our church too, in the Presbyterian church, but we didn't go at midnight. It was like four o'clock in the afternoon. And then one year, the fire marshal decided that it was not smart for everybody to be holding candles and they turned into flashlight, like flashlight candles. And so it was so stupid, they decided that even though we were using flashlights that you would pretend to be lighting each other's candle, which I just thought was so stupid and I you should be lighting candles like this authority from the government just is ridiculous. Grandma Betty would shelter the flame as her candle was being lit and then trim her inner hand would force the candle's little skirt to work over time. Wax would fly this way and that my little sister Elizabeth and I would laugh with thick love in our eyes seeing her struggle to not get the little beads of wax on her hand. And when she did, she would make the sweetest little shock to oh sound. It's not that the idea of God the Father was upsetting to me. It was that it was so incomplete. God as the Father and Jesus as His only Son made zero sense. It just felt like one side of a far more inclusive and radical love story. We have the masculine, the male, the divine, but there is also a feminine, the female and the human. Here I was wedged next to my Grandma Betty, a being who had actually physically but gotten a son with her own body. A being who radiates and exudes the kind of light these tiny lights can only symbolize. And yet there is no word of her in the story. There's no goddess, no sister, no mother who births with her actual body in a very human, non-immaculate way. I wonder and I wonder why more people don't wonder what God would be if God was also a she or even better. What if God was referred to as the love that most profess God actually is. If we haven't silenced women and asked them to leave the altar from the start, I wonder what the world would be like now. And I wonder how girls and women would be treated if we would have been able all along to hear who Christ was. Who Christ is according to women, to mothers, to daughters, to souls and human body that can actually create life inside of them. Or to put another way, I'm excited to see how the world might change once we do, which is where we are now. I do believe a big part of this great awakening is restoring the mandolin as the second half of the Christ, the equal part of the Christ, which then goes bringing that divine feminine back into the reality that the divine feminine is divinely equal to the divine masculine. Over the years, I kindly respectfully with curiosity and also with suppressed rage to ask so many priests and ministers and pastors and rabbis, if God is not man, a human flesh and blood man, why is it theologically accurate to use the masculine gendered noun father? How is it not irresponsible to refer to God as a he when we are all male, female, intersex, transsexual, non-binary, made equally in the image of the divine? How can we not see the misleading hierarchy this recreates every day? We know that God isn't human. And so the energy of God as Yashua refers to God in the Gospel of the Holy Twelve of the Nazarene Way, he refers to God as father-mother or mother-father as both energies. The response is buried when it comes to this deeply held and coveted idea that God is male. There's a version. God the father is an expression of protection and love. This is usually given with a glance that makes me feel like a freak. Why doesn't she feel the father's vibes? There's diversion. What was your relationship to your father? And there's deflection. Well, you know, of course, God isn't really a father. God is simply love. And the last one is often said condescendingly as if I'm the one calling God the father and have gotten all wrong as if the priest is patting my head. They're there, silly child. We all say father, but we don't really mean it. Here's how I can best explain what it's like for me sitting in the pew when only God the father is preached. Remember how in the 1980s we still thought it was okay to smoke on planes? The statistics had already been reported about the harmful effects of smoking and even secondhand smoke. But there we were picking our seats and the smoking or non spoken section. And here we are the 21st century, right with all the statistics on the status of women the world over the statistics of sexual assault and abuse and unequal work wages. The lack of opportunity or education and forced marriage. Here we are in an age of information about psychological impact on a girl who only ever hears God referred to as a male and as a father. Here we are in a world that practices are reinforces within its culture what it preaches is in its place of worship. This is what it's like for me to sit in church that's filled with only God the father. It's like sitting in a smoking section of an airplane in the 1980s. Everyone around me thinks we're golden and I'm sitting there choking on the fuse. I feel this mix of rage and devotion sitting beside grandma Betty listening to the congregation sing Silent Night slightly off key and trying to stomach the constant reference to God as a father and a father only. I found myself staring at Betty smiling at her high pitched oh when the hot wax made it through the paper skirt of her candle. Just grateful to be reading the scripture that was growing right there for me in the creases of her radiant face. This brings us to the next section which is titled the angriest Christian I ever met. Be on your guard so that no one deceives you by saying look over here or look over there. For the child of true humanity exists within you. Follow it. Those who search for it will find it. The Gospel of Mary chapter 4 verses 3 through 7. He had sandwiched himself between two boards the length of his torso. They were covered with verses from the Bible that clearly in his interpretation condemn same-sex relationships as sinful. From a distance I just felt sorry for him. He could barely move. He looked all red and overheated and hurting from carrying around his body at billboards and he emanated that kind of lonely sadness that only the truly depressed can emit. I imagine the smell of empty cans of cat food a scary cross above his bed in the most terrifying floral pattern on his comforter. He was a small man with a high voice and I expected to toss a weary and sympathetic glance his way as I passed. But as I got closer and his words became more audible I got offended and then I felt blood curling rage. He was calling himself a true Christian moved by Christ to convert the sinners of the world. My women's college was very well known as a safe space for the LGBTQ community and was located in a small town referred to as the lesbian capital of the world. The veins in his neck were bulging. He was screaming about the wretched people presumably us who would burn in hell for their sins. I couldn't believe the amount of hate and rage that he contained nearing him felt like trying to work my way past a human time bomb. I've never identified as straight. The poet Adrian Rich describes sexuality as a continuum rather than a fixed point. This I identify with. What feels real is that I fall in love with an aspect of a person that can't be seen with my eyes only sensed. I remember lighting up the first time I heard a woman in one of my retreats describe herself as sapiosexual. She was attracted to a person's intellect so I borrowed that for a while but it's not the mind that makes me swoon. It's the heart, the soul of the person. So maybe I'm a cardio-sexual. I doubt I would actually ever say that out loud but for the sake of truth telling here I fall in love with hearts with a person's wild, usually broken, open heart. So I do agree with her like I'm not. I'm totally straight like I am absolutely 100% heterosexual. I crave men. I love men. That's my attraction and I do definitely have a tight most of my relationships that have been a lot older than me. 10 years. One was 15 years older than me but it's usually something about the person that I am attracted to. There's looks can only take you so far and as you get to know people even in your friendship circles, even in your life, the more you get to know someone you kind of stop noticing their looks after a while. You might notice at first that the person you're interested in has pretty eyes or a pretty face or the arms. I love the man's arms, the chest. But then after a while when you get to notice that person there becomes a more subtle, deeper attraction where the physical isn't so much important anymore. It's about that person's essence, their energy and that's kind of what I always am attracted to is the essence of that person. And so I understand what she's saying here even though I myself am totally heterosexual. Be on guard that no one deceives you by saying look over here or look over there. This is a crucial passage from Mary's Gospel because it directs us to the source of our own truth within and we need to be careful where of those who might suggest that they possess a truth we do not. Ding, ding, ding. I'm going to read that again. Okay, okay, okay. We need to be careful, weary of those who might suggest that they possess a truth that we do not or that we need need to be like them or think like them in order to acquire it for ourselves. We do not need to give away any of our power to anyone ever. I agree with that whole, whole heartedly. Your pastor, your preacher, your rabbi, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your friends, they don't have any more truth than you have when it comes to source, when it comes to God, when it comes to divinity. We are on an equal playing field. Do not let anybody ever feel like they know something you don't because guess what? You were anointed by the same creator, they were. Take your power back to never, never give your power away ever again to a preacher or an organization or a church or a person. It's your power, your light, your spark. Let me say that again, we do not need to give away any of our power to anyone ever because according to Mary's Gospel, we will find the child of true humanity if we search for it within. We don't have to compromise ever and settle for an almost version of who we are. We do not have to conform to some external truth. Some version of someone else is telling us is better or more right, more holy and more human. We don't have to fit in. Isn't that the most blessed thing we could ever be told or we could ever remember? We don't have to fit in. We don't have to contort who we are in order to fit a mold that was never meant for us. When I was standing close to an angry billboard man listening to him command us to hell for being sinners, I was upset in a way I hadn't felt since I first read the Bible as a little girl and broke out in hives. Or since wanting to confront Mrs. von Kloppenberg from the backseat of my car. If I had hackles, they would have been poofed up sticking straight out as I came face to face with him or face to chest. He was really small. I tried to speak to angry billboard man and found that my voice was tripping over itself. I could barely manage to say each next word. The weight of knowing how wrong he was and how right I felt made it impossible to speak calmly or even with much chance of comprehension. In that moment, I could barely stay in my body. Much less convince him of why his hate is so not Christian. I wanted to say something like Christians try to love like Christ, not to hate and judge people. Let me read that again. Christians try to love like Christ, not to hate and judge people. As if I were an expert, but I was too busy having an out of body experience, I just screamed that he had no right to condemn us. And then I stormed off crying and had a meltdown at campus security. I was so offended by the fact that he was calling himself a Christian. He was justifying his homophobia through his faith. And he was so convicted that he was right. It took me months and months to figure out that what really set me off with the most about him was the fact that deep down, I was just as convicted about what it needs to be a Christian. And it was nothing like his version of hell and damnation and the oppressive laundry lists of who you have to be and not have sex with in order to get saved and then admitted into some future distant kingdom. I was just as convicted of my version of Christ as angry billboard man, maybe even more. I just hadn't found the scripture yet that justified my faith. This brings us to the next section, The Buddha's Tara's Badass Vow. Go then preach the good news about the round. Do not lay down any rule beyond what I determined for you, nor promulate law like the lawgiver or else you might be dominated by it. The Gospel of Mary chapter 4 verses 8 through 10. In the Pistis Sophia, a third century text discovered in 1773 contains a dialogue with the risen Christ and his closest disciples, especially Mary Magdalene, but also including his mother and Martha of Bethany Lazarus sister. The expression Pistis Sophia roughly translates as the faith of Sophia or the faith of wisdom. Jesus explains who she is by saying, son of man consented with Sophia his consort and revealed a great androgynous light. Its male name is designated savior, begetter of all things. Its female name is designated all begetter Sophia, some call her Pistis. This is also where we're going to be going into the text of Sophia, which was mentioned first on this channel in our study of the Apocryphon of John. So if you have not listened to the Apocryphon of John again, I will include the dark outpost playlist below in the description box where I have all the missing books of the Bible that we have read through before. Right now, not that clear, but what seems evident in this text that there's a male name and a female name for God, or what's ultimate, there's a begetter of all things and all beget trespass. In the Gospel of Phil found the 20th century among the Nag Hammadi scriptures in Egypt, it is explicitly confirmed that Mary and Christ had a relationship that distinguished her from the other disciples. The companions of the son is Miriam of Magdala. The teacher loved her more than all the disciples and he often kissed her on the mouth. If Christ could choose a woman, a being of race just barely considered powerful or worthy enough to exist at all during his lifetime. It's his companion, his spiritual companion, his equal. This was fundamental shift in what it means to be a man and to be a woman. I love that again because this goes back to Mary, the Magdalene and Yahshua being twin flames of the same soul. They were different but equal. They were equal. In the Pistis Sophia, Mary says to Jesus, My Lord, my mind is understanding at all times that I should come forward and give the interpretation of the words which wisdom spoke, but I'm afraid of Peter, for he threatens me and he hates our race. I'll be completely honest with you guys. I'm not a fan of Peter. I think Peter is an asshole. I've never liked Peter. I don't understand why the church was built upon Peter. But since reading the missing books, the Bible I understand that that is actually not what Yahshua said. He did not want the church built upon Peter. That was changed by the powers that be. So there we go. In the first century of the Roman Empire, when Christ and Mary lived, the hierarchies of existence were entrenched as it will continue to be for Thecla and Perpetua in the second and third century. The female sex, the race Mary Magdalene belonged to, the race of women, was considered property, more disposable and less valuable than a man. Men, especially Roman men in power, were seated up there in the highest echelons of hierarchical structure. Christ's love and partnership with Mary Magdalene, virtually a slave in Peter's eyes, the lowest of the lower levels of existence, caused Peter extreme distress, confusion, and threatened his world order. How could Christ love Mary more than him? How could Christ love Mary a woman more than him a man? This was a breach in the structure of power that his own power depended on. Clearly the sexes are different physically. The male and female body both internally and externally have organs that are not the same, essentially different for reproduction. What we see though, when we're looking at a man or a woman is more than just a body. When we're looking at the body, we're also looking at what we ascribe to the male and female body and that can crowd out the presence of who we are actually encountering. This whole spectrum of existing that goes unseen, then the wide continuum of trans and non-gender conforming identity that is eternally lost if our vision is geared to only see the male and female. When we see things this way, when we project all of our acquired and borrowed and learned ideas of what it needs to be male and what it needs to be female onto someone else, we fall in the most ancient illusion and we forget the central teaching in Buddhism. Form is emptiness and emptiness is form, meaning that the male and the woman form have no intrinsic meaning other than what we ascribe to them. I had a girl crush in college on a Tibetan green Tara, a female Buddha because of a badass vow she made to put an end to the illusion that the male body or the female body is more powerful or holier than the other. I was taking a course in Buddhism and learning to meditate which led me to a Buddhist retreat where oddly enough I first learned the Christian prayer of the heart. Tara in Sanskrit means to cross over. She is known as the mother of liberation. She will do anything to help us cross over from suffering to awareness. I fell in love with her because of the Tara Tantra and it Tara incarnates as a king's daughter. She loves spending her days talking spiritual truths with a group of monks. At one point they become so sincerely impressed with her and so elevated by what she teaches them that they tell her they will pray for her to reincarnate as a man so that she can become more enlightened. Tara paused for a moment looking at them with astonishment and it howled with laughter. No she didn't but when I first read that story that's what I imagined she did realizing the monks are serious and deeply binded by the illusion that the female body could inhabit enlightenment in any way Tara then flips the prayer back on them. She vows right then and there to always reincarnate as a female Buddha until all beings are freed from suffering that this illusion perpetrates. Form is emptiness and emptiness is form. When Christ says do not lay down any rule beyond what I have determined for you in the gospel of Mary a gospel that predates the exclusion of woman from position of power within the church which happened in the fourth century perhaps he is referring to the illusion that a person can only be worthy of leading the church if they are born male. It reminds me of a passage from Margaret Atwood's dystopian novel A Handmaid's Tale. Offered is forced to become a handmade which means she must wear red to symbolize her rank in the fact that she is fertile. Red also because it associates her to sex and to her sex through she herself as a handmade is forbidden to show passion. The handmaids are assigned to a commander and must produce children for him. In the world of Gilead there are also econo wives, marthas and unknown women all depending on their usefulness as a female in society. So in this world Offered says that she tries to avoid looking down at her body not out of shame but because she explains I don't want to look at something that determines me so completely. The gospel of Mary wants us to see that we are not just a body we are also a soul. This human body is the soul's chance to be here and this human body whether male or female or anything in the spectrum between does not delimit or determine what's possible for us. This brings us to the next section misunderstanding Mr. Mr. Jesus said to them when you make the two into one and when you make the inner like the outer and the outer like the inner and the upper like the lower and when you make the male and the female into a single one so that the male will not be male or nor the female be female when you make the eyes in place of an eye a handed place of a hand in a foot in place of a foot an image of a place of an image then you will enter the kingdom the gospel of Thomas. I didn't know what I was receiving the import of it how it had sent something into motion like a silent slow moving river inside of me that would leave to a carving out of my own personal grand canyon or illuminating my own private Taj Mahal. I first heard the prayer of the heart on a silent Buddhist meditation or treat of all places. This was not long after my clumsy attempt at confronting angry billboard man and it was given to me by a Christian contemplative the oldest member of our group who was in her seventies and it was so shiny and excited about every step of our retreat even when our silent work assignments like washing and dishes and sweeping the meditation the meditation floor. She was a tiny wave of a thing and yet somehow exuded more energy than the rest of us. I can't remember her name but let's call her Penny. She was always even in those ridiculously early morning meditation sessions radiating light she shined and I had never really seen someone glow before but she looked like she had just recently fallen madly deeply in love. Penny taught me one afternoon about prayer from the heart. She said she repeats it inside her all the time to the point that she rarely has to think about it. She said it's like a song that constantly playing inside of her. She could be thinking about other things all throughout the day but if she drops into her heart even for just a moment there it is still standing still circling back from the end to the start again. It's like a lighthouse in the fog. Penny had this infectious enthusiasm for what's next in life for inviting it in. For being in awe and wonder of what new experiences might yet be possible. She lived in a cave with nuns in Tibet. She had traveled on a barge with her husband along the canals of France and now she was learning about the Pasadam meditation practice at Buddhist center in Massachusetts. She wasn't afraid of what's next. She had her arms wide open for it. This is why I loved her. This is why I gravitated towards her during breaks or tiny windows of time when we were permitted to talk. Penny first said the prayer in Greek. Instantly I heard the lyrics of the chorus to Mr. Song playing as if on loudspeaker in my mind. The lyrics about the road that must be traveled through the dark in the night to reach the highway in the light. She explained that these two words in Greek translate to Lord Jesus Christ son of God have mercy on me. I started laughing with a bizarre response but let me explain. For all these years I thought Mr. Mr. was singing about his girlfriend. It was a song I freaked out over if I heard it come on the radio as a little girl. I would scream from the back of my mom's red Volvo station wagon and beg her to turn it up. Then I belt out the words to what I thought was a love story about Mr. Mr. and his girlfriend a mysterious and somewhat elusive woman. I imagined who he hoped would follow him wherever he went. I explained to Penny how the Greek have been lost on me for all those years and then I asked her out of curiosity why she prayed to Christ because I knew for me at least I couldn't imagine begging Christ for mercy. To me it felt like this internalized impressive idea that a man had to save me or that I had to be more submissive to be more holy or that I had to admit some instinctive aspect of me was lowly and nearly unforgivable so that I had to beg constantly for mercy to be worthy of it. It felt shitty and I couldn't understand how this tiny human glow stick of a woman would choose to set this prayer on automatic repeat within her. Penny said that it isn't the words she focused on, it's how she feels when she repeats them. She said it's like hitting the reset button on her whole idea of herself. She's a woman, a daughter, a wife, a mother, a Christian and all these identities can at times tie her into a solid knot. The prayer of the heart she said brings her back to the truth that she's none of these identities. These are all ideas, words, concepts, expectations, projections. The prayer of the heart takes her back to the beginning or to the current light that leaves through all these changing identities as the one constant among them. This brings us to the next section titled The Three Marys. Love refuses nothing and takes nothing. It is the highest and vastest freedom all exist through love, the Gospel of Philip. I think what makes a place sacred is simply the fact that we've been called to it. Lisbeth, the artist I collaborated with for the Divine Female Oracle, funny Stephanie, my friend Stephanie just got this Oracle deck and I was like, oh my God, that's Megan Waterson's Oracle deck. Told me a story of a woman named Emma Crawford who moved to the small town of Manitow, Colorado for tuberculosis cure in the early 20th century. While there, Emma felt compelled to climb the nearby Red Mountain. Against all medical advice, she climbed the mountain and tied a red handkerchief to the top. She eventually died of TB, but the spirit of her need to climb the mountain became a local legend. The mountain was made sacred simply because she had answered its call to climb it. I remember the considerable strain it seemed to take my roommate in college not to communicate with her facial expressions just how freakish she thought I was and she explained that I had shot up in bed in the middle of the previous night and shouted about a woman with a red cape on the edge of the sea. We weren't friends before my dead of night declaration anyway, but it just confirmed for her why this had been the case. I had no idea what my nocturnal self was talking about. In my courses at college, I was merging my woman's study with my passion for world religions. My senior thesis was only Hindu goddess Kali. Oh my gosh, we have talked so much about Kali. She is the Mother Mary, she is the dragon energy. Again, I will try to find that video where we spoke a lot about Kali and I'll place it down in the description box below. And though red is her signature color, she wasn't a cape wearer. So I wrote it off as an inevitable outburst of a vivid dreamer and sold in a solid and a solid proof as to why I'm meant to live like a hermit in a single dorm room. A year after graduation, I was standing on the edge of the sea at the south of France in the small fishing village of Saint-Marie de l'Amir. I was on pilgrims to sacred sites of the divine feminine. The Saint-Marie had a church with a crypt for a saint named Sarah. Saint Sarah is known to the Romani people as the Queen of the Outsiders and is celebrated on May 24th in a festival where four horsemen carry her icon from her shrine in the crypt down to the sea. There are three main legends that surround Saint Sarah and who she might have been. The first is that she was a generous and kind-hearted noble woman who lived in the south of France collecting alms for the poor. She had a vision that the female saint presented at Christ's crucifixion would arrive on their shores in approximately the year 42 when the three Marys, Mary Magdalene, Mother Mary and Mary of Salome, arrived on a ship without sales to Saint-Marie de l'Amir. Supposedly Saint Mary was the first to welcome them with open arms and apparently prophetic arms. The second legend referred to the Golden Legend because of the Golden Legend by Dominic de Cabas Vorigen, probably said that name wrong. Written in the 13th century relates that when the three Marys arrived in the first century Sarah had previously been a slave. She was known as Sarah the Egyptian and supposedly possessed healing powers connected to the ancient Egyptian god Isis which again the priestess hood of Isis was the mother Mary and Mary Magdalene and Mary Magdalene's mother. This was a very powerful priestess so a lot of what Yahshua and Mary taught in their understanding came directly from the priestess hood of Isis. The third legend is that Sarah is the child of Mary Magdalene and Jesus Christ Yahshua. She is the reason the three Marys were being persecuted and needed to escape France. The Marys wanted to protect Sarah from the Romans. Sarah then is understood and considered in this legend as the living holy grail or as the song roll out the bloodline of the union of Mary and Jesus Yahshua. All three legends claim that Mary Magdalene came to the south of France escaping persecution after testifying before the courts of Tiberius Caesar as a witness to Christ's crucifixion and resurrection and that she preached as a minister about what it meant to be a true human being. Anthropes in Greek which translate to someone who is the fully human and fully divine. Fully divine might sound strangely unattainable or just flat out not reliable but here is how I have come to understand it. In that region of France there is a cross that's associated with Mary Magdalene. It's called La Croix des Cameroos, the cross of the Cameroos. It's also known as the Guardians Cross. The cross at the top represents faith. The anchor of the local fishermen at the bottom represents hope and the heart in the middle represents the love of the three Marys who arrived in Cameroos in the wake of Christ. This love is the love that changes everything. It's the love that described in 1 Corinthians 13 where Paul writes that even if he could speak the language of the angels but didn't have his this love he would have nothing. Even if he could have known any hidden truth but didn't have this love he would know nothing. It's the love that's kind never envious or conceited. It's the love that expands when truth triumphs. The love that holds all things can handle and face all things. The love that is ever hopeful and ever patient. It is the love that never fails. 1 Corinthians 13-13 reads, faith, hope, and love adore. These three but the greatest of these is love. What moved me about seeing this cross was the presence of the heart in the center because somehow through the centuries the focus on love has been obscured and replaced with fear. Agreed. Just like the story of Mary Magdalene in her role in the earliest forms of Christianity she's there as a love that never failed. I had no idea before arriving that first time and saw in my reading of near that it was associated with the legacy of Mary Magdalene or at least I didn't know it in a conscious way but as I was listening to the legends of the three Mary's the town was named after staring at the bright silky red capes of every hue that are placed around Sarah's icon that dreams of college became barreling back to me and it wasn't like deja vu or a moment of feeling prophetic like Sarah it was more like a feeling like being led to something that gave my life more meaning or even more that it was the meaning to my life to find this life that existed for Mary Magdalene after Christ. The tour guide told us about the cave north of San Marie de la Mer called La Saint Bavue the Holy Cave probably said that wrong where Mary supposedly lived out the last 30 years of her life my heart started leaping around like the erratic monkey in a cage the only other time it had behaved so insanely was when I was madly in love I knew my monkey heart was telling me something as if my body was dog-eared in this moment for me as if it was making sure I didn't miss the glimpse of what's to come her cave I could hear my body applaud and scream her cave I'd always thought a very magical story ending after witnessing the resurrection but there was a life for her that began again right there where I was standing in the south of France a place that had been called to me and there was a love her story contains which I was there to find a love that is the highest vastest freedom a love I was prepared to dedicating my life to remember the next section is called the red thread Jesus said I am the one who comes from what is undivided the gospel of tongues I still don't know exactly what it means or even better I don't know why it means so much the red thread I'm wearing it on my left wrist now I'm not sure if I will ever take it off when I look at it there's this echo like a radio frequency or like those little bars that light up on my laptop searches for internet connection it radiates it transmits and deep down in this place that exists before the words are full I just know what that red red ties into in cabala Jewish mysticism the red thread is worn on a left wrist because the left side of the body is considered feminine it's the receiving side the side where anatomical heart beats and it's worn there both for protection and to honor the feminine since this is the aspect of our psychic being that allows us to receive spirit or to know and feel that connection so cabala is also something that has been inverted and torn apart by the bad guys I'm just going to say I before anybody leaves a comment down in the comment section I just want to remind you guys that darkness cannot create anything only light can't and so everything that we perceive to be evil from them was at one point pure and good and I am sure that once everything is eradicated off this planet and we've ascended or into a higher vibration that all these things we've perceived as bad will once again be purified and brought back to good I also want to point out that in argument as well the left side of the body is considered to be the feminine side that's why in India like where I got my nose pierced women always get their nose pierced on the left side is because that's the feminine side of the body in Greek mythology Aridane considered both human and divine in the consort of the Greek god Dionyses assisted theses when he entered the lab rest to kill Minotaur by giving him a red thread he was able to find his way out of the dark maze because of it I've also come across a Japanese legend that relates to the red thread has to do with our fate that we are tied by this red thread to all the people we are destined to meet in order for the soul to evolve every encounter even the most random was actually already woven for us in scarlet tapestry before we were born I absolutely believe that that's the soul contract that's your Dharma that's the Akashic records and I have heard that theory that we are like connected like thread to people who are in our soul family especially our twin flame so if you are someone that has a twin flame especially the more that we ascend you're going to start to feel things that your twin is also feeling it's quite gnarly the first time I saw the red thread was the last time I met with the shaman I was doing work with her to recover that piece of myself that felt missing though a piece doesn't quite cover it a missing half better describes it I knew this other half because of a palatable absence I felt it was more than loneliness it felt physical the absence of this other half was like a phantom limb like an absence so powerful it becomes a presence it's a presence that's always there because of that great tall shadow cast by the fact that it isn't the shaman taught me how to have a vision or she taught me how to become aware of the fact that majority of us have them all throughout the day whether we're aware of it or not she taught me how to begin to see the different form of perceptions by going deeply inward or farther up and farther in as CS Lewis describes it in the Chronicles of Narnia I'm not sure how to travel in visions and I get it if you've never had a vision you're probably already hovering outside your body just from reading this it seems like a strange concept but it's actually not strange at all it's the most natural thing we humans do we vision we use our imaginations we don't realize or what we don't really get sometimes is that we imagine can actually affect and change us what we envision with our imagination isn't just our imagination between 1913 and 1916 Swiss psychologist Carl Jung developed a form of meditation that he referred to as active imagination this meditation technique served as a bridge between a conscious ego and what young described as the personal unconsciousness and the collective unconsciousness which includes wisdom and information that the ego might not even understand what's powerful about active imagination is that it helps create pathways between what we are consciously aware of and what remains hidden in the unconscious Jung leaked active imagination with the process of alchemy the ancient effort of oneness of or becoming gold and by gold I mean merging with these fragmented or divided parts of the self merging the ego and the soul alchemy as a process of unifying our sense of self into a whole this is what Jung's the red book is all about the shaman taught me how to find the world tree a spiritual motive in almost all religions I remember the first time I saw it I mean inwardly with my eyes closed I was walking through a field with my heart stay with me when I saw in the distance it took my breath away it felt so ancient it felt like the holiest thing in existence it felt like seeing a part of me as if these limbs that were reaching up into the heavens were part of my body and the roots that reached down into the underworld were also coursing through my veins the psyche of course can't be seen but this tree felt like the nearest thing to an image of it there's an alchemy little dictum that says as above so below this is metaphysical truth I felt that I was encountering and seeing this world tree within me everything that happens below in the dark was inherently connected to what happens above in the light the shaman had taught me how to set a strong intention each time I had a vision I had to ask for the help I needed this is how spirit works she sets me the smile spirit is ethical you have to ask in order to receive free will consent she would make me state my attention out loud which always made me feel self-conscious because I looked crazy but I would do it anyway I trusted her more than I cared about appearing sane and once I stopped questioning everything that happened in the vision once I trusted that what I heard and felt an experience was real the sense that it was really the wisdom I needed then it all became effortlessly to me my great obstacle was believing it could all be this simple ask for what I need and receive it from within which is also to say my greatest obstacle was believing that I could ever be that powerful the tree was so familiar to me like a religion that existed before religion like the original template that all religions are based on I knew how it worked nothing felt foreign to me during the last vision that I had with the shaman they were supporting me I pressed my hands to the weathered bark and since that I was meant to descend I followed the roots until it felt as though the air had shifted like the cabin pressure in a plane changed altitude I was submerged into what felt like a different realm of consciousness from the one I was just in a moment ago I was standing there inside a cave it was cold that bone cold that creeps under the skin the walls of the cave were glistening wet I heard the dripping noise in the distance it echoed somewhere deeper down than where I was standing it made me feel like I it made me feel like the cave was endless as if the cave never stopped descending downward further up and further in in this vision I knew that I had reached the underworld and I had set the attention to meet with the medicine our message that was most aligned for me in that moment I had to do with my heart it had to do with my heart and that peace of me or that presence I felt destined and determined to find then suddenly I felt this rush of air the way the breeze catches you off guard when someone at a crowded restaurant opens the door I turned in the direction that seemed to come from and this was when he walked in this isn't the word started to fail me but I know that if I'm going to tell the story completely I'll have to try to keep writing even past where the words in past the point where words seem to lose their meaning he walked in and we immediately knew each other this this is the part that's dream like though because like a dream it doesn't really make sense I write he walked in and yet I couldn't describe what he looked like physically at all because the recognition seemed to take place with a faculty more accurate than eyesight and he didn't seem separate from me then we wrestled but not really see dream like all we were doing was looking at each other but it felt like we were rolling around like deranged ferrets laughing and exploding with light we kissed but it wasn't like kissing I'd ever experienced in real life it was like melding together it was like each kiss was a return to what was true to the truest thing of all it was a joy that had always existed in me it was the experience of feeling loved love from the inside out it was a taste however brief of what feels like when I am no longer absent when a part when no part of me is missing as I gave gratitude and began to climb up the roots of the world tree I knew this experience or vision I had just had was the deepest medicine I would ever receive I walked through the field and back into the room back into my seated position in front of the shaman before I opened my eyes she asked me to see if I had brought anything back with me from that vision with my imagination or the eye of the heart I could see that we were both wearing a red thread tied around our wrist emotions flooded me when I saw this it felt like I was seeing what had always been there what had been placed on each other's wrists too long ago for the mind to grasp we both took a deep breath I knew the vision was complete I opened my I opened my eyes to see my shaman's gorgeous brown saucer eyes spilling over with light she stared at me it felt like my eyeballs were on fire from all the love streaming through them and the shaman burst into tears and asked generally shocked and upset why didn't you tell me before now I looked at her complex and waited for her to say more but she didn't tell you what I asked the red thread she said she reached across the spine between us it took me into her arms I inhaled I forgot so much so many details about the people I love and I've come in contact in and out of my life my memory seems to be purely old factory I knew in that moment that if I inhaled deeply enough I would never forget her her long dreadlocks smell like frankincense I can't smell either now or without thinking about her without seeing those dark brown saucer eyes light up with a presence that isn't entirely up this world I knew not to ask her why the threat threat meant so much to her I pretended to understand even though I didn't entirely I knew I'd have to live into reason why the red thread signaled something to her about who I am about who we are I remember you she said with more love and her voice and I could even bear I remember you this leads us to the third power of ignorance what happens in the wilderness this is what I learned as a little girl I am only safe when I am divided I learned that there are forces illusions deep-seated misunderstanding ego-driven needs that can overpower me they come one night in the form of a teenage boy mistaking me for an object and I learned that I have the ability to leave any moment in any situation I can choose to exist somewhere else so entirely that nothing at all is even felt I just witness I see her hands my hands frozen in shock I just watch with eyes now that are as old as the soul that once inhabited my body an Aramaic the language that Christ spoke the word death means existing elsewhere I learned that once the pathways out of myself and out of the present moment is created it's very hard not to choose it again whenever I feel anxious afraid or just out of control I learned to exist elsewhere as a teenager I didn't have the words I had never even heard the words to describe what actually happened for me in assault that the trauma of being separated or divided from the soul can't be seen young yet youngian analyst Clarissa picola estes woman who run with the wolves became my bible these stories spoke a language that I inherently understood a language of myth and metaphor I felt this sense of a tribe the first time in my life or lineage I felt like my story was the continuation of a story that has been told for thousands of years I felt I was accompanied always by legions of us generation after generation of women healing this ancient misunderstanding that the female body signifies the lesser sex a being to be owned dominated and not trusted the tale of the head handless maiden was my book of revelation it was originally collected by the brother's grandmother 1821 but existed for an unknown amount of time before that it starts with a devil a demon a force that seeks to divide the maiden first from her body then her father's home and finally from her love the king the devil tricks the maiden's father into giving her to him in exchange for great wealth in three years he warrants he will return to claim her she lives in prayer for those three years and on the day when the devil comes to take her she draws a white circle around her with chalk he cannot touch her her heart is too pure the devil tells her father to keep water away from her so she cannot wash he will claim her the next morning when her hands are dirty the maidens tears keep her hands clean and again the devil cannot claim her he orders the maidens father to chop off her hands her father hesitates but the devil says he will take him instead if he doesn't do it her father begs for her forgiveness and in his feared ignorance he does it he cuts off her hands the maiden cries all night in the morning for the third time the devil cannot take her because her tears have purified her soul the maidens father wants to take care of her now and he is wealthy and she is made but she realizes that she has to leave she can't stay in her father's house she is no longer safe or at home she begins to wonder and eventually she finds her way into a garden she rests near a pear tree and meets a king he's a good king a kind man and he loves her stumps and all she loves him they get married and soon she is pregnant and then the king is called away to war and in his absence the handmaiden gives birth to their son he's beautiful and she adores messages sent to the king to tell him the good news but the devil is back again and nurse ups the message and distorts it so that it says the baby was born misshapen and ill and the king is heartbroken about his suffering child that loves him all the greater and when he sends a response telling the handmaiden that his love will never waver again the devil interferes with the truth and changes the king's message to read that he wants the queen and the king changed and killed the king's mother cannot follow through with these orders so she straps the baby boy onto the hand handmaiden's back and tells her to run for it the handmaiden begins wondering again she makes her way eventually to a forest and there she meets with an angel who guides her to a cabin with the sign on the door that reads here anyone can live free the handmaiden raises her beautiful boy there in the wilderness for seven years and in one version of her story she her hands simply grow back through the grace of her love for god and another her hands grow back when her son falls from her back into a stream and is drowning when she reaches her stumps into the river she saves them her hands immediately appear either way her silver hands are no longer needed love has regrown her reason for being here love has healed her body and it's not a love that came from her father or her husband not even her son it is a love that came from within her a love that protected her and guided her all along when the king returns from war and finds his message of love have been tampered with and if the handmaiden his queen and his son had to leave the castle for their own safety he vows to wander the earth until he finds them and an angel leads him to their cabin in the forest and at the first the king doesn't recognize the queen because she is no longer handless but she shows in the silver hands he had made her want to go when they first met and his face lights up with recognition they return to the castle restored to each other and never to be parted again the seven years spent in the wilderness in the cabin this is when she became whole again because as as sweet as the silver hands were they were never going to cut it being held in love by the king taking care of was the beginning of something new for her the birth of her son asked her to leave home again to go deeper to not just cover up the horrific trauma with silver with making do but to heal all the way through to no longer carry the scars the proof of the trauma around with her wherever she went to heal to such an extent that her own hands grew back to reach a love within her that's divine that upgrades her silver to what's golden and everlasting to become whole again is to remember that she is undivided we often think of the end the happily ever after as the external union or outward marriage to be held in love by another is just the start it's not the end the culmination is when the trauma or the wound has left the body altogether so we no longer have to that was the ending I wanted the end when I have found the cabin deep inside my body with a sign on its door that says here anyone can live great alright guys thanks for sitting through part four once again please leave me your thoughts and your opinions down in the comment section below as always I dedicate the series to my nieces Jacqueline and me to all the girls out there even the big girls out there that carry that essence of the Magdalen I'm hoping in this new earth this new age that the divine feminine will absolutely be restored to its place lots to love to everyone watching the best is yet to come