Before Words Were Born, She Was Already Becoming
Thunder, Perfect Mind, the Gospel of Mary, and the Divine She Who Refuses to Be Named
What if God’s voice wasn’t male to begin with?
What if the divine never descended from a Father above, but rose from the Mother below—bleeding, birthing, and burning long before your theology tried to name her?
This poem by
came across my feed like a forgotten scroll from the Magdalene’s satchel—mystical, unapologetic, and smelling faintly of myrrh and revolution.Read this first. Then we’ll talk.
You ask me to speak of what cannot be spoken.
You ask me to name what was never meant to be named.
For we have called her many things:
Witch, when her wisdom frightened us.
Whore, when our desire turned to shame.
Mother, when we wished to be held again.
Lover, when we wished to be undone.
Wife, when we wished to own what we could never understand.
Sound familiar?
That’s because this voice has spoken before. Loud as thunder. Slippery as wind. She's the speaker in the Gnostic poem Thunder, Perfect Mind, where the Divine Feminine says:
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter…
I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband.
She doesn’t ask for permission to speak. She erupts through contradiction. She is both the fire and the thing it consumes. Not some tidy archetype to be adored on Sundays and ignored the rest of the week. She is holy disorder. She is the divine backlash.
Just like Mary of Magdala.
Mary, the One Who Knew
In the Gospel of Mary, she doesn’t perform miracles or cast demons out of pigs. She does something much more threatening: she understands. She receives secret teachings directly from Jesus, not because she’s his disciple—but because she’s his equal in insight. And what do the apostles do?
They doubt her. Accuse her. Try to shut her down.
"Did He really speak with a woman without our knowledge and not openly?"
—Peter, still insecure after all these years.
But Levi defends her:
“If the Savior made her worthy, who are you to reject her?”
Boom. Apostolic mic drop.
Mary doesn't just deliver secret teachings about the soul’s ascent—she embodies it. She is the voice of gnosis, of inward knowing. And like Thunder, she doesn’t need your doctrines. She’s already halfway back to the Pleroma.
So What Do We Do With This?
Here’s the part where I’m supposed to tie it up nicely with a bow. Maybe recommend you light a candle or whisper her name softly while burning sage from Whole Foods.
But she doesn’t want that.
She doesn’t want praise from the same mouths that silenced her.
She wants recognition.
She wants remembrance without ownership.
She wants you to stop naming her and start living like you remember her voice inside you—before the shame, before the dogma, before the ego learned to spell.
So here’s your heretical invitation from the Order of Virgin Monk Boy:
Do not name her.
Do not worship her.
Stand bare before her.
Remember that she was not born of us.
We were born of her.
And to her—we will return.
Meditation: Becoming Before Words
Sit comfortably, but not too comfortably. We’re not here for spiritual sedation. We’re here to remember.
Close your eyes.
Inhale slowly:
“She was always.”
Exhale gently:
“Before words were born.”
Visualize not a woman, not a face—but a field. Vast. Primordial. She is not in the field. She is the field.
She is the wind moving through the reeds.
She is the aching tide pulling the moon into memory.
She is the contraction before birth—and the silence after death.
Now hear her speak, from deep within you:
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the forgotten voice and the voice that thunders.
I am she whose wedding is great, and I have not taken a husband.
Let her arise in paradox. Do not force clarity.
Let the names drop from your mind like dead leaves.
Hold nothing.
Simply witness.
Stay here for 7 breaths—or until you forget what you were trying to fix.
Then open your eyes and carry her into the kitchen, the street, the scroll of your daily becoming.
Dedication: To the Voice That Was Silenced
This post is dedicated to:
The voice in your lineage that was never allowed to speak.
The wild, unbaptized goddess in your gut who was traded for obedience.
The Magdalene, who remembered.
The Thunder, who roared.
And to every woman, trans or cis, nonbinary or nonconforming soul who has ever been rewritten, renamed, or reduced.
May your memory uncoil like a serpent.
May your truth arrive like fire.
And may your silence never again be mistaken for absence.
Amen?
No.
Awoman.
Before you vanish back into the illusion—smash that LIKE or SHARE button like you're breaking open an alabaster jar. One small click, one bold act of remembrance. That’s how we spread the Gospel they tried to erase and resurrect the voice of the First Apostle.
And if this stirred something in your chest cavity (or your third eye), consider a paid subscription. It keeps the scrolls unrolling, the incense smoldering, and the Magdalene movement caffeinated. ☕️🔥
(Yes, you can literally buy me a coffee. Mary saw the risen Christ—I just need a latte to write about it.)
Ownership by naming or value requiring usefulness as we define it.
“…remembrance without ownership” sparked remembrance.
Here is a dialogue in a seminar recounting Heidegger’s conversation with a Japanese scholar about acknowledging a domain that must remain unowned, unspoken, and unusable yet present, comes to mind.
“I know I've read this to some of you before and I want to read it again anyhow, both as a review and for those who haven't heard it to hear it for the first time. This is from Martin Heidegger on the Way to Language. It's a conversation between Martin Heidegger and a Japanese philosopher, one of whose professors had been trained by Heidegger.
So the Japanese says, "We Japanese do not think it strange if a dialogue leaves undefined what is really intended or even restores it back to the keeping of the undefinable." Heidegger responds, "That is part, I believe, of every dialogue that has turned out well between thinking beings.”
What Heidegger means by thinking is very much different than what an anybody's self means by thinking. “As if of its own accord,” Heidegger says, “it can take care that that undefinable something not only does not slip away. but displays its gathering force ever more luminously in the course of the dialogue.”
That's the methodology of the seminar. That's the methodology of transformation. Not a definition, not a description, not a narrative, not a story, not an understanding, not information. But whatever it is he’s speaking about when he says displays its gathering force ever more luminously in the course of the dialogue.
And he doesn't mean display like something to look at, but rather something to be. The Japanese response, "Our dialogues with our teacher probably failed to turn out so well. We younger men challenge him much too directly to satisfy our thirst for handy information.”
We are a culture that listens for handy information. Something's useless if you can't use it, isn't it? You see, maybe what empowers people cannot be used by them. Maybe we need a kind of listening that can be present for what is powerful and not useful.
Heidegger responds, "Thirst for knowledge and greed for explanations never lead to a thinking inquiry,” transformational inquiry. “Curiosity is always the concealed arrogance of a self-consciousness that banks on a self-invented rationality."
What does he mean by that? He means that you think that you were born in such a way that anything which is valid, you are going to understand. Therefore, anything you don't understand must be invalid. That's what he means.
“The will to know does not will to abide before what is worthy of thought.” He's saying exactly what I just said a moment ago, that this will for information, this will for tips, this will for prescriptions, this will for how am I going to use it, how does this apply, how am I going to fix it, how is this going to help me to fix it, is no will to be with what is worthy of being with. It's different to be with than the will for knowledge or information or usefulness.”
There's an old song that starts:
When She danced on the water
And the wind was Her horn
The Lady laughed
And everything was born
And when She lit the sun
And its light gave Him birth
The Lord of the Dance
First appeared on the Earth...
[chorus]
Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance said he
I live in you as you live in Me
And I lead you on in the Dance, said He
Apparently, it's set to a gospel tune about being washed in the blood of the Lamb, etc., or maybe that hymn got its music from this way more "pagan" one.
By the end of the song, the Two are all but one, as Mother/Son/Co-Consorts etc., and if memory serves, they welcome humanity to dance with Them. :)
Probably not the same idea, but I think us humans sometimes need a chronological sequence... ;)