I’ve had a lot of moments of suffering in my life.

But there was one in particular, maybe a year and a half or two years ago, where I just hit that point.

No job.

No home.

No relationship.

No health.

Everything had crumbled.

It wasn’t necessarily the most intense pain I’d ever felt, but something about that moment… I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend I had it figured out. I had nothing left to attach to.

And that’s when it hit me:

Why am I still searching for all these external things? A partner. A place. A title. A future.

When what I’ve been looking for this whole time is just… God. Or Source. Or Spirit. Or whatever word makes your body relax.

I felt like a squirrel, running around, trying to find something—anything—that would make me feel safe.

But maybe what I was really being asked to do was stop.

Just stop.

And return to something deeper than all of it.

The White Room

A friend shared something with me that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

He said he was in a ceremony—Ayahuasca—and in the middle of it, he asked:

Show me the gospel.

And what happened next wasn’t a story. It was an experience.

He went through the crucifixion. Not watching it, but inside it.

As if he was there, in Christ’s heart.

He died.

And in that death, he felt this energy—this force—redeeming everything.

Not just him.

Everything.

Like on every layer of reality, something impossible had just been made whole again. Like the whole structure of pain had been rewritten.

He described it as ecstatic. Unexplainable.

And then he was in the white room.

And Christ was there—not as a doctrine or a figure to worship, but as a brother. As a best friend.

He said he laughed and cried at the same time.

He said, “You did it.”

And felt the response: “So did you.”

Different Paths, Same Source

This conversation really made me wonder…

Why does Christ appear to some people, and not others?

Is it lineage? Culture? Timing?

Like—I didn’t grow up deeply Christian. I tried a lot of things. Buddhism. Hinduism. Taoism. I’ve studied them, lived them. But in my darkest moment, when I felt completely broken, it wasn’t Krishna or Buddha or a plant or a mantra that came through.

It was this… presence.

I don’t know if I’d call it Jesus. I’m still not sure.

But I felt like I’d been baptized by something. And I didn’t do anything special to earn it. It just came.

And I’ve been wondering—maybe that’s how it works.

Maybe Source, Spirit, whatever word you want to use—it speaks to us in a way that we can understand.

And if your lineage is Christian, maybe that’s how the message arrives.

If you’re Indian, maybe it’s Krishna.

If you’ve spent years in nature, maybe it’s just the wind.

Maybe these aren’t separate beings, but different languages for the same truth.

I Don’t See Beings. I Just Know.

People ask me sometimes:

Do I see things? Get visions?

No. Not really.

For me, it’s more of a knowing. A full-body truth that rushes in and moves through me.

It speaks in my own voice.

In English.

It’s like a message that comes from deep inside—but I know it’s not me.

I don’t feel like I need to meet avatars or disciples or deities.

Sometimes I think… maybe I’m just connected to Source directly.

And that’s enough.

Maybe They’re All Sitting At the Same Table

Another thing I keep thinking about…

What if all these great teachers—Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, Mary Magdalene—what if they’re all just sitting around a big table somewhere?

Not competing.

Not one being the “right” one.

But all delivering the same truth, just in different ways.

Different teachings for different people.

Different doors lead back to the same center.

I once did hypnosis and saw this council of beings. Christ was there, but he wasn’t “God.” He was part of a circle. A team. A council that holds and protects.

And that made me think—maybe Source is even bigger than any single figure. Maybe the highest truth isn’t a person, but a field. A space. A consciousness. A frequency.

Something we feel more than we define.

Closing Thought

I’ve been trying to find language to explain the oneness I feel.

Not to collapse everything into sameness. But to recognize that maybe we’re all hearing different accents of the same voice.

Maybe we’re being led home by different hands.

But the destination is the same:

Connection.

Grace.

Love.

Something bigger than all of us, but also inside all of us.

So if you’re out there feeling lost, wondering why your guides haven’t shown up yet—

Maybe they’re already speaking to you.

Just in a voice you forgot how to trust.