The Cure

15 Months of Silence. Violet Blood Series Part III.

May 02, 2024

This Violet Blood Series is a recollection of my path to personal power and the life events that led me to becoming The Purple Peach. To tell the entire story, I’d have to write a book or even a series of books… maybe this is the beginning of that, but for the sake of my readers, I’ll try to keep this reasonably short.

The purpose of this series is solely to remind you of your personal power in your world as I describe certain events that put me on the path of taking mine back:

the discovery of my Violet Blood.

continued from part II…

The sound of nothing but the energetic release from my own lungs became exhilarating.

Silence is a reality in which you are it, one, all.

A place where you are the hero and the villain, the sword bearer and the beheaded.

The depths of the true self that cannot traditionally be found, touched, or at the very least, acknowledged, will scream for attention in the vast void of everything and nothing. Some parts of us are only tangible through the integrality of solitude and aloneness.

This golden truth lies below the mountain, not on the other side.

Dig.

The lightning bolt of life, and I, its champion.

I spent the better part of 15 months in silence.

I didn’t choose this out of an attempt to become enlightened or because I joined a cult or some “spiritual group” challenged me to it. I chose to do this because I had passed away, physically — flat-lined for an unknown amount of time, by my own hand — after the ‘swipe right’ event on Christmas Eve-eve.

I meditated, I journaled and stared at the wall witnessing the paths my psyche took in real time.

What did I want my inner voice to sound like? I started to challenge it.

I ran. I hiked. I climbed mountains. I dry-fasted for 7-10-30 days. I threw up black tar antimatter. Silence was physically draining me of who I thought I was, while simultaneously showing me all the possibilities of who I could be if I was brave and decisive enough.

I would randomly come up for air out of my silent ocean if I felt it was needed, but that didn’t happen very often.

Sitting with the self is very different than sitting by yourself.

I didn’t end up here because “things happened to me.”

Truth is, this world was always hard for me to understand or agree to live in. Born with a broken heart — like most ancient beings — I had the unshakable knowledge that it was somehow wrong or incorrect. A grid encoded within a program that drank down the truth and vomited lies that everyone (except for the ones labeled ‘crazy’) had accepted as “normal”.

This “living” was like an equation that used numbers that don’t exist anymore. Fuck, they never existed in the first place. Fake fucking numbers!

I was born coded out of this ‘matrix’ and I hated myself for that: it felt as if I was forced to play the video game without a controller.

Because I possessed a rare depth of thought, chaotic sensitivities and expansive views into the netherworld, being a child was super fucked up. I could see the dead walking everywhere. They were loud and taunting. I witnessed things no person should.

I knew what the world really was; it studied me as I studied it.

So, of course I attracted the devils, incubuses, pedophiles, murderers, rapists, witches, sorcerers, voodoo priestesses and other dark spirits; they knew every angle of me. At this point, as I entered the realm of silence, I was to forced to learn theirs as the world of accepted reality faded away behind me. (I spent an evening with a 704-year-old vampire in Sacramento…it wasn’t as exciting as it sounds. He was kind and accepting and although I should have been, I wasn’t afraid of him. Super nice dead guy… more to come about this encounter in another post…maybe.)

Most of these dark entities had very elaborate and socially-acceptable skin suits with distinguished degrees to match. Unfortunately, for my little Piscean being, I could see them sans suits in their true form, hear their guttural tones and even occasionally process their mental data.

I was constantly updated on their plans, but my spying didn’t always go unnoticed; many did their worst, often successfully, to break my body, my mind…my everything.

Some were my abusers, some were my doctors, some were my neighbors, coaches, and teachers. I might as well have had a sign on my back (and front) saying “take everything good from me. I am your food”.

There is no veil for a child born of silent truth.

Having true sight as a child made it next to impossible to look someone in the face or believe anything any adult said. Trust issues much? The lies were so fucking loud — like a deaf yet blood-curdling scream. My ears were always bright red and hot, my mother thought I was sick all the time…I wasn’t. I was tapped into hell.

Speaking of my mother, she’s lovely. Hi Mom!

Mom is an OG witchy-woman: regal and poised with ancient beauty, always dressed in bright colors, high intellect and self esteem. She is a southern Queen that can curse your whole family lineage with a smirk, or if she feels like it, save your soul. Like I said: lovely!

I learned at an early age she could save me or murder me daily, it was always my choice.

I would constantly embarrass her by saying the thing everyone was thinking out loud like, “It smells like old people,” or “He’s the one who farted,” or, her personal favorite, “He/She is an ugly liar.” I would never apologize because I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t going to conform; I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking lie like that, like the skin suits did. So, I figured they would eventually just end me permanently…or I would try my best to unalive myself.

My attempts were valid, I just couldn’t hold death the way I thought I had to. The way I so desperately wanted to. I knew this world was hell and the acknowledgement of it was to much for this mini-seer. So I ran my mouth and told the truth, always, in all ways.

I still have an issue being “nice”.

To me, niceness is a falsity. To be “nice” is to have socially acceptable behavior which, in theory, sounds great, right? My opinion, however, is that to be “nice” is to have shaved, chiseled down or otherwise hidden the full authentic truth of any situation. I am true, not nice. They are not the same.

“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here forever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

15 Months, 12 days and 20 hours.

Silence answered so many of my questions and connected so many dots. It brought me out of my egocentric sense of victimhood and into my true fucking pain, unable to hold any excuses or blame for anything outside of myself.

My purposeful silence started by dropping me in Candyland; a rotten-overdeveloped-underworld. The door closed behind me as silence exclaimed with intensity, “conquer the fire, water, wind, earth and aether you are!”

I fought with knives out, laughed savagely, cried for the world, bled blue-green-black tar, burned at the stake on repeat, continually drowning in the recesses of my repression: forced to swim through its waters. I learned the map of my own hell and began the journey to mastering it.

I fought to remove that blanket.

I fought for my Hell throne.

My violet bloodstream stung as it purged the falsity of my past identity.

The first pulse of celestial fire and water.

I am that I am.

As these 15 months went on I started to gain more and more clarity about who (most importantly what) I was, outside of my flesh suit. I had traveled and teleported from past to future, from dimension to dimension of my inner world.

Extensively briefed on my mission(s) on Earth/Terra/Gaia/Zaia…this planet (or planned-net if you will) has so many titles, for once I felt a connection to a reality where my presence mattered. The why was shown to me over and over as my ego dissolved and I became nothing and no one, liberated from a false id.

Unequivocally aware of the archetypical human race and its conditionality, I understood how we have been collectively programmed and plugged into a corrupted server. We were constantly downloading data from a compliance system meant to drain us and give us fake health and happiness.

Full of curiosity and without judgement, I took notes on the subconscious Earthlings walking around me. The unavoidable beings wandering through their realities like doe-eyed docile pods. I witnessed them moving without any connection to true life resonance or true death mastery, following a maze to nowhere — grayed out and colorless. I started to get migraines being around them, rejecting the densities around me.

Violet Blood begets a Peach.

I wrote and wrote and wrote; forever the observer, forever the student. It was those corrupted programs that taught us who/what we are, yet not an ounce of any of it was true to our individual truths. The fucking non-existent numbers! I wasn’t having it.

T’was what The Gray wanted and that static didn’t have a hold on me anymore.

Feeling more comfortable recognizing and speaking out about the levels of alchemical knowledge, I spoke out about the fact that this power was being used against the beloved humans I cared about…and the ones I didn’t.

As I came out of my silent vortex, I knew I had to jump into my mission. I studied as much as I could, as fast as I could. My “rainman brain” was awake, drawing me into the remembrance of my most ancient self. Some of the rabbit hole studies include:

Elemental Alchemy - Astronomy - Tarot - Numerology - Cosmic Time - Frequency and Sound Transference in the body - The Yin/Yang - Qi - Quantum Physics - Ancient Text (Bible, Torah, Quran) - Universal Laws - Kabala ‘Tree of life’ - Sacred Geometry - Quantum Math - Fractals - Pi - Organic Chemistry - The Mystery of Atlantis and Lumeria - Ancient Egypt - Ancient Greco-Roman Era - ‘Britannia’ Monarchy - Ancient Philosophy (Eastern and Western) - Ancient Symbolism - DNA/Genetics/Blood Types - Gods and Goddesses of ancient cultures - Psychological concepts (the good and the bad)…the list goes on.

If it sounds like I was going insane, it’s because I was. she laughs out loud.

Silence had ejected my mind out of the corrupted server and into universal consciousness. I was a sponge for this new level of knowledge and dedicated the next 5 years to remembering, learning, absorbing and decoding all I could. This expansion was my transfusion, pumping a warm violet hue through me.

At this point, it was time to merge this higher knowledge with my decades of restaurant/hotel experience, culinary studies and passion for cooking/baking. Unbeknownst to me, I had used intentional consumption to heal my mothers fatal cancer in the year 2000. I had no idea at the time but I was utilizing my Quantum Superpower decades before understanding the truth of the Peach Power and its potential impact.

If you’re curious about this healing, you can read the full true story here.

Seed of The Purple Peach is planted

My intuitive connection to food has been with me since day 1 however this was a brand new level of connection, a kinship if you will. I wanted to help by cooking and baking for anyone I could, but first I had to tune my body to intentional healing through delicious meals. Every time I would cook for myself, the ingredients I worked with would speak to me, loudly. The first step on my journey to mastering the art of intentional cooking. Everything holds consciousness.

Each ingredient told me what it was meant for and how it was to connect to my body and personal power center. That power had been taken away, right from under my nose. It was time to take that power back, silently and stealthily.

So I did.

I used my intention everyday to heal myself from the falsity of my past identity and all the events it had attracted. Consciously healing any energetic and physical ailments for myself and my family. My 70 year old parents are aging backwards, its awesome.

Collectively, we had been drained in so many ways without even knowing. Fad Diets, FARM-A Drugs, Self Help Books + their “Gurus,” Disney, Political Theater, Movies, TV shows, Celebrity worship, The fucking Kardashians, Institutionalized Religion, Social Media and image obsession (Tik Tok, Instagram, Facebook etc.) all had a part to play in the draining of true hue-man health, wealth and energy.

We had all been sectioned off and sold: spliced and digested.

Silence taught me that. Reality confirmed it.

An Organic Future

The nothingness silence had offered me guided me on a journey into the first Earth. The real and true natural world. It was the most beautiful experience to witness where we came from and what consisted of our true power. What I call our Peach Power.

The Organic Hue-man Race of the Milky Way.

My eyes were open to the true potential for the hue-man future. Contrarily they were open to the polarized, inverted reality that was essentially stuffed down our collective throat to swallow as “real”.

I kept spitting it out. I know some of you did too.

There were repercussions for that.

I took the beatings and honor the scars. I know some of you do too.

The false reality in which death, disease, ignorance, blame and constant pain was ‘true’ to life, consistently whipped and choked me. I was supposed to buy in, to be angry and believe ‘truths’ my being rejected. I couldn’t then and I can’t now. I fucking won’t.

Energy is everything so I say politely to the false deceptive reality…fuck off. I spit in thy face.

In my reality my natural hue-man energy is all I truly have.

I am not alone. Although at that time sitting in utter aloneness digging through the recesses of my under-worldly self, I was convinced I was. I demanded this aloneness as I fought through Candyland, swam through the muck of my swamp, and battled giants that had swallowed an entire species, ours. We have all been alone but if we zoom out we never were.

So today I sit here, with you, sharing this with a bright light behind both of us pushing us forward into the unknown; together, full of wonder and violent sovereign authority. I am honored to be here with you. Alive.

Conclusive remarks:

I believe silence, pain and conscious self-awareness to be our greatest teachers. So close your mouth and teach yourself how to breathe: in with life and out with death, identifying which is which. Fall in love with how it feels to breathe and fight like the warrior you are through your own hell. Spoiler alert: no one cares if you’re tired, no one really cares at all actually, about anything…but you have to. Tune into your soft subtle inner voice. We need you to be true.