They told you to silence your passions. Magdalene and the mystics knew better.This is the Christianity they buried—one where the Nous awakens, Mary Magdalene teaches the apostles, and the Virgin herself ignites the soul. The gatekeepers forgot the real story. We didn’t.
I love this so much. That phrase—rest, witness, let it burn—stopped me in my tracks. It feels like such a powerful invitation, especially for those of us who grew up steeped in guilt and striving, constantly trying to prove ourselves worthy of love. Reading Mary Magdalene Revealed was a turning point for me too. It spoke to something I’ve always sensed but never had language for. Also, thank you for the Awakening Through Love book recommendation. It sounds like a book I need to read.
It is really good— The second half dives deep into some pretty dense Buddhist jargon. But what really landed for me in the first part was the practice of creating your own field of merit—not just with spiritual figures like Jesus and Mary, but also with the people in your life who’ve genuinely held you in the wish of kindness.
There’s so much love already being radiated toward us—not sentimental fluff, but that deep wish for our well-being. All we have to do is open the curtains and let it in. And once we’ve bathed in that light, we’re perfectly primed to touch the Nous, what Dzogchen calls pure awareness—that luminous, spacious awareness that’s been here all along.
Indeed, Eugene. The Sermon on the Mount is divine dharma with a PR makeover. It's like Buddha, but with sandals and saltwater curls. Simple to read, hard to live—because we prefer revenge fantasies over turning cheeks, and hoarding over lilies of the field.
But yes—practice that sermon sincerely and you won’t need another gospel, another guru, or another overpriced workshop. You’ll have everything… which is why nobody actually wants to live it.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they never start podcasts about it.
Beautiful, clear and powerful. Thank you. Especially this line: "It’s almost tantric—not in the “Instagram-shakti-goddess” way, but in the raw, terrifying way of letting anger rise like a dragon, letting lust flare like wildfire, letting grief flood like a baptism—and never flinching.
Because when you see through it all, what remains is pure awareness."
Tamara, your words carry the same raw electricity I tried to bottle in that line—thank you. There’s something holy about allowing our inner chaos to surge and break like a storm without retreating behind “spiritual aesthetics.” No floral mandalas or filter-friendly “goddess glow.” Just dragon-breathing fury, grief-as-baptism, and the sacred art of not flinching when your soul is on fire.
You get it. Because as Mary teaches—real purity doesn’t mean avoiding the mess, it means seeing through it. Fully. Until all that’s left is clarity. Or as you so perfectly said: “what remains is pure awareness.”
Fascinating! I’ve added the books to my reading list—I’m curious how the Nous corresponds with Jung’s collective unconscious, particularly paired with the French word for “we” being nous. Lots to reflect on later thanks to this piece!
I finished Brave New World yesterday and the quote you shared from Philokalia struck me as pertinent to Huxley’s Civilized and Savage ways, despite their deep and (due largely to their basis through conditioning as inextricable from core value systems, deviance from which is termed pathological and is to be avoided at all cost) irreconcilable differences, both serving to hold the individual prisoner to their passion through its active suppression. Differing views on what constitutes passion results in opposing approaches to subduing it, a cultural mismatch unable to be bridged in the enforced absence of awareness as both reject Dzogchen’s alternative of witnessing passion unflinchingly.
Ah, now that’s a juicy question. I'm not sure what Jung would think—but the Nous isn’t really something that thinks about things. It’s what remains when the one doing the thinking disappears. When the veil of subject/object drops, and there’s no “me” contemplating “we,” just presence—clear, luminous, wordless.
In that sense, the Nous doesn’t correspond with the collective unconscious so much as it obliterates the need for correspondence at all. It’s not a collective anything—it’s what’s aware before there was even a “collective” to dream up archetypes.
French “nous” as “we” is a clever linguistic synchronicity though. Because once you've touched the Nous, the illusion of “other” dissolves, and what remains is indeed a kind of sacred We-ness—undivided, unprovable, and deeply inconvenient for empire-building.
Some hesychasts treat the Jesus Prayer like a spiritual cattle prod—zap the passions until they collapse. But for me, the deeper current isn’t about force—it’s about invocation.
When you say the Name, you’re not launching an attack. You’re invoking unlimited love and compassion. That Presence isn’t here to fight your ego—it just radiates so purely that your ego can’t keep pretending it’s in charge.
The mind relaxes. The grip loosens. The passions float up like bubbles, but there's no one left clinging to them. They burst on their own.
The Jesus Prayer isn’t about suppression—it’s about saturation. You become so soaked in divine awareness that the ego has no choice but to dry up and float away like yesterday’s news.
Thank you for explaining! The dissolution of ego and removal of self/consciousness from the state of awareness clarifies beautifully. Too often our biases and the limitations of our conscious perspective hinder nuanced acceptance of truth. I’ll practice witnessing.
To me, this all sounds so very much like what I've heard about Zen: just experience each thing as it comes up in the mind (and heart?), acknowledge its existence, then let it go on its way, to perhaps be picked up later, once you're done getting to the quiet place of mindful-/mindlessness and back again. :)
There are so many parallels in the wisdom across traditions!
That Zen principle also resonates with psychology’s “radical acceptance”, particularly if extended to radical release.
To follow up my original comment, I downloaded a sample of the recommended book on Mary Magdalene and it mentions the Coptic texts spent time in Jung’s archives, so the idea of his writing having been influenced by them to some degree seems valid! Love finding connections.
Brother, speaking of restriction, I must impose upon myself the restriction not to react in a heated and blazing enthusiasm when reading only the first lines. Wonderful, again again! With this pace of beautiful insights you make a nice appeal to the making of your own holy scriptures, not bundled in leather or hidden in age-old chalices but embodied in the present moment as the prayer that may resound in the memory of with this life means.
Ah, Brother Sven—your words arrive like a bell rung in an empty cloister, echoing where only the truth dares to linger.
You name the temptation well: that blazing enthusiasm that strikes like lightning at the first syllable of sacred fire. Yet you restrained it—and in doing so, you lit a gentler lamp.
May we all take to heart your reminder: that holy scripture is not a relic to be hoarded, but a rhythm to be lived. Not ink on vellum, but breath on breeze. Let the prayer be this moment, and the memory be the life it awakens.
With deep bows from the shadowed edge of the garden, —Virgin Monk Boy
Honestly, you have to know the other story that was never written about Gaia, Mother Earth, Nature. These humans have always been trying to move the forces of the earth and bend them to their will. Nature and Gaia are sentient. The demonias have been here since the dawn of time, working on protecting and nurturing and protecting each species, mushrooms, plants and animals. Giving each plant the ability to protect itself from harm and giving it the force to live to observe the world. It was Jehovah that was tinkering with all these plants and animals, and even tried to destroy the Earth multiple times. He sought to overthrow all the gods and goddesses that helped to make everything, thinking he was a supreme ruler but before he existed Venus, Mother was the one worshiped across the land. The animals to this day worship Mother. Jehovah doesn’t want people to be able to talk to animals and plants, but believe me at one point they did. The Egyptians talk about how we are here to protect them. The story of Eve is the one that matters. Her story is the one that matters most. Over the years the animals sought to retaliate against Jehovah in numerous ways. Many species have removed their male in favor of a different system because of aggression. Women don’t need Men to be happy, they often prey on women instead of the first intention to protect the mother.
I love this so much. That phrase—rest, witness, let it burn—stopped me in my tracks. It feels like such a powerful invitation, especially for those of us who grew up steeped in guilt and striving, constantly trying to prove ourselves worthy of love. Reading Mary Magdalene Revealed was a turning point for me too. It spoke to something I’ve always sensed but never had language for. Also, thank you for the Awakening Through Love book recommendation. It sounds like a book I need to read.
It is really good— The second half dives deep into some pretty dense Buddhist jargon. But what really landed for me in the first part was the practice of creating your own field of merit—not just with spiritual figures like Jesus and Mary, but also with the people in your life who’ve genuinely held you in the wish of kindness.
There’s so much love already being radiated toward us—not sentimental fluff, but that deep wish for our well-being. All we have to do is open the curtains and let it in. And once we’ve bathed in that light, we’re perfectly primed to touch the Nous, what Dzogchen calls pure awareness—that luminous, spacious awareness that’s been here all along.
To me, the Sermon on the Mount is the most significant philosophical document I have read. Simple to read, hard to live.
Indeed, Eugene. The Sermon on the Mount is divine dharma with a PR makeover. It's like Buddha, but with sandals and saltwater curls. Simple to read, hard to live—because we prefer revenge fantasies over turning cheeks, and hoarding over lilies of the field.
But yes—practice that sermon sincerely and you won’t need another gospel, another guru, or another overpriced workshop. You’ll have everything… which is why nobody actually wants to live it.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they never start podcasts about it.
—Virgin Monk Boy
Beautiful, clear and powerful. Thank you. Especially this line: "It’s almost tantric—not in the “Instagram-shakti-goddess” way, but in the raw, terrifying way of letting anger rise like a dragon, letting lust flare like wildfire, letting grief flood like a baptism—and never flinching.
Because when you see through it all, what remains is pure awareness."
Tamara, your words carry the same raw electricity I tried to bottle in that line—thank you. There’s something holy about allowing our inner chaos to surge and break like a storm without retreating behind “spiritual aesthetics.” No floral mandalas or filter-friendly “goddess glow.” Just dragon-breathing fury, grief-as-baptism, and the sacred art of not flinching when your soul is on fire.
You get it. Because as Mary teaches—real purity doesn’t mean avoiding the mess, it means seeing through it. Fully. Until all that’s left is clarity. Or as you so perfectly said: “what remains is pure awareness.”
With admiration,
Virgin Monk Boy
Brilliant! I want more, Please! 🙏🥰💃💕🙌🏳️🌈❤️🇨🇦
Fascinating! I’ve added the books to my reading list—I’m curious how the Nous corresponds with Jung’s collective unconscious, particularly paired with the French word for “we” being nous. Lots to reflect on later thanks to this piece!
I finished Brave New World yesterday and the quote you shared from Philokalia struck me as pertinent to Huxley’s Civilized and Savage ways, despite their deep and (due largely to their basis through conditioning as inextricable from core value systems, deviance from which is termed pathological and is to be avoided at all cost) irreconcilable differences, both serving to hold the individual prisoner to their passion through its active suppression. Differing views on what constitutes passion results in opposing approaches to subduing it, a cultural mismatch unable to be bridged in the enforced absence of awareness as both reject Dzogchen’s alternative of witnessing passion unflinchingly.
Ah, now that’s a juicy question. I'm not sure what Jung would think—but the Nous isn’t really something that thinks about things. It’s what remains when the one doing the thinking disappears. When the veil of subject/object drops, and there’s no “me” contemplating “we,” just presence—clear, luminous, wordless.
In that sense, the Nous doesn’t correspond with the collective unconscious so much as it obliterates the need for correspondence at all. It’s not a collective anything—it’s what’s aware before there was even a “collective” to dream up archetypes.
French “nous” as “we” is a clever linguistic synchronicity though. Because once you've touched the Nous, the illusion of “other” dissolves, and what remains is indeed a kind of sacred We-ness—undivided, unprovable, and deeply inconvenient for empire-building.
Some hesychasts treat the Jesus Prayer like a spiritual cattle prod—zap the passions until they collapse. But for me, the deeper current isn’t about force—it’s about invocation.
When you say the Name, you’re not launching an attack. You’re invoking unlimited love and compassion. That Presence isn’t here to fight your ego—it just radiates so purely that your ego can’t keep pretending it’s in charge.
The mind relaxes. The grip loosens. The passions float up like bubbles, but there's no one left clinging to them. They burst on their own.
The Jesus Prayer isn’t about suppression—it’s about saturation. You become so soaked in divine awareness that the ego has no choice but to dry up and float away like yesterday’s news.
Thank you for explaining! The dissolution of ego and removal of self/consciousness from the state of awareness clarifies beautifully. Too often our biases and the limitations of our conscious perspective hinder nuanced acceptance of truth. I’ll practice witnessing.
To me, this all sounds so very much like what I've heard about Zen: just experience each thing as it comes up in the mind (and heart?), acknowledge its existence, then let it go on its way, to perhaps be picked up later, once you're done getting to the quiet place of mindful-/mindlessness and back again. :)
Or something like that? :)
There are so many parallels in the wisdom across traditions!
That Zen principle also resonates with psychology’s “radical acceptance”, particularly if extended to radical release.
To follow up my original comment, I downloaded a sample of the recommended book on Mary Magdalene and it mentions the Coptic texts spent time in Jung’s archives, so the idea of his writing having been influenced by them to some degree seems valid! Love finding connections.
There's way more that connects us as humans than divides us...now, if we just remembered that... :-/
(And I'm way more of a fan of Jung than Freud, but I guess it had to [re-]start somewhere in the modern age... ;-D)
Brother, speaking of restriction, I must impose upon myself the restriction not to react in a heated and blazing enthusiasm when reading only the first lines. Wonderful, again again! With this pace of beautiful insights you make a nice appeal to the making of your own holy scriptures, not bundled in leather or hidden in age-old chalices but embodied in the present moment as the prayer that may resound in the memory of with this life means.
Ah, Brother Sven—your words arrive like a bell rung in an empty cloister, echoing where only the truth dares to linger.
You name the temptation well: that blazing enthusiasm that strikes like lightning at the first syllable of sacred fire. Yet you restrained it—and in doing so, you lit a gentler lamp.
May we all take to heart your reminder: that holy scripture is not a relic to be hoarded, but a rhythm to be lived. Not ink on vellum, but breath on breeze. Let the prayer be this moment, and the memory be the life it awakens.
With deep bows from the shadowed edge of the garden, —Virgin Monk Boy
Honestly, you have to know the other story that was never written about Gaia, Mother Earth, Nature. These humans have always been trying to move the forces of the earth and bend them to their will. Nature and Gaia are sentient. The demonias have been here since the dawn of time, working on protecting and nurturing and protecting each species, mushrooms, plants and animals. Giving each plant the ability to protect itself from harm and giving it the force to live to observe the world. It was Jehovah that was tinkering with all these plants and animals, and even tried to destroy the Earth multiple times. He sought to overthrow all the gods and goddesses that helped to make everything, thinking he was a supreme ruler but before he existed Venus, Mother was the one worshiped across the land. The animals to this day worship Mother. Jehovah doesn’t want people to be able to talk to animals and plants, but believe me at one point they did. The Egyptians talk about how we are here to protect them. The story of Eve is the one that matters. Her story is the one that matters most. Over the years the animals sought to retaliate against Jehovah in numerous ways. Many species have removed their male in favor of a different system because of aggression. Women don’t need Men to be happy, they often prey on women instead of the first intention to protect the mother.