Yup, [redacted], you pretty much get it—I think. And that’s actually really important for reasons bigger than you or I could possibly comprehend. However— and I’ve honestly always been a shithead in this regard—I can’t help but take things a step further, in my own direction. Unlike so many people, I find it of dire importance to understand myself—to know exactly who it is I find myself being.
This, for me, is my number one. This is what I was designed to do.
In some respects, nobody could ever fully conceptualize the essence of what I bring out. No, because such substance—such raw, undiluted form—can only be uncovered by me. Crafted by me. What comes from me, in practice, is always some form of an absolute, an actualization of a primordial will. I am but an interpreter, assigning meaning and data to what exists beyond direct contact. And when manifesting, it demands the purest and most direct lines of co-influence, drawn from a shared, raw-exposed, egoless assumption—originating not from me, but from an externally unbiased Source.
I wish to interpret and transmit Truth from the Source itself. God.
I want to bring it directly from Him, through my own temple of Mind and my Heart of Gardens, back unto the people. To be so honest, so undefiantly brash in my pursuit of a deeply engraved Truth—some obscured remembrance of what we really are. And to recognize that much of what we believe ourselves to be is not ours. It is borrowed.
Borrowed from sources both comprehensible and incomprehensible at once.
Each human psyche is designed to adapt in flux alongside Universal principles, the Natural Laws of Divinity from which we are derivative. The compounds that compose a person’s internal domain—their Spiritual Mindscape—where their true being resides. These are the foundational pillars of a sound body, which, by means of Divine Channels, exist to bridge the awareness of Emotion and God’s perpetual unfolding of Truth. He encourages us to attune ourselves to the resonant frequencies of existence, to align with the properties of divinity.
This attunement uses the refracted light within us—the echoes of both love and hate, life and death. It surrounds us from all directions, caging us within the flesh of our earthly vessels. But a boundless, generative mind—one that operates at a higher attunement—does not belong to these lower dimensions. It interacts with them, but it is not trapped within them.
To me, this third-dimensional plane is more akin to a reverberation, a collision of echoes bouncing against the four lonely chamber walls of reality. And yet, I move through it. Placing one foot in front of the other, not by conscious intent but by some magnetic operation alone—some unseen force convulsing through my every motion. I trace the atmospheric loops of limitation, only to be suspended within the gravity of their gradual descent.
It does not spiral. It does not dive. It simply moves—closer and closer to some Universal Truth, some Divine and Greater Mind that may, in its own way, be clearing space for itself. Perhaps, all of existence is a cathartic implosion, propelling itself against itself, seeking the perfect angle for dispersion. Form embodiment. The original utterance of a silent tongue.
Every inch of every day, I move toward the bottom of this road. However slowly, however inevitably.
And yet, something long-since disbanded has found me again. Some distant, ancestral force returning to collect what it once borrowed. It moves through me. Through you. Through all of us. I am a conduit for a Higher Purpose. And in knowing this, I must acknowledge:
All that I am—is not mine.
It is only borrowed.
Even my consciousness—this overridden awareness that propels and intuits my every function—submits to the underlying conquest for eternal fulfillment. I must do what my father may have failed to finish. The actualization of his individual being. The manifestation of some abhorred reality. A Truth so blinding that the only way forward is to let go of the urge to squint beneath its rays.
Let it encompass you. Let it dissolve the lines between shape and formlessness, until all that remains is the unity of Earth and stars—one entity, beneath only Nature. And with that being said:
There is but one true, all-knowing Creator. Find your soul’s connection back to It.
For no matter the dividing houses, we all belong to God.
The alchemy of our inner minds—the unobserved mind’s watcher—has been refined over countless generations. It is a propagation of ideas, a transmission of virtue, an inheritance of principle. And yet, within that process, there exists something equally profound:
The ability to decide.
To separate ourselves from the tides of external influence. To attune ourselves to the real frequencies of perception. To reclaim the authority over our own reality, drawing it back under the power of our own domain—out from the clutches of uncertainty.
Because what we do—who and what we are—is nothing more than the exercised motion of higher forces acting through us. Entangling our purposes. Propelling us toward a Truth that has always been, and will always be.
And that is the absurdity of it all.
The Stevens name, the ancestral will, the borrowed Truth—it all persists. I feel it in myself, in ways I don’t even fully understand yet. But something about it is written into me. Into my bones. Into my blood. I don’t know where it leads, but I do know this:
A Stevens is a Stevens.
And something about that matters.
∆Remember Us∆ 