'Could You Be Loved?'
In the land of duality, one of the most important questions we can ask is, “Could you be loved?” In March of 2019, my mom fell off of a ladder and ended up having a couple of mini strokes. This incident landed her in the hospital, and then in a nursing home for rehabilitation. I took the liberty of bringing her some clothing, activity books, reading material, bathroom necessities and other items to make her stay more comfortable. I found myself going above and beyond to ensure she knew I was there for her.
If you had asked me the previous month if I would be doing this for my mom, I might have punched you square in the nose. My relationship with my mom has always been strained, to put it lightly. Over the years, I allowed much physical, emotional, and mental abuse for the sake of having a mother in my life. My own biological mother passed away three weeks after my birth, leaving my father unable to care for me. They both had Muscular Dystrophy. It was my father’s sister, Martha who adopted me into her family.
I began this round of emotional clearing after having an intense dream about the father of my daughter, Michael. Since I completed this round, I made amends to him personally and it went way better than I expected. At first, I was so nervous, it was hard to breathe, but once I began talking it seemed to flow easily. With the exception of a few months during the worst part of our relationship, we always got along because our personalities complimented each other so well.
Michael has not visited with our daughter more than a handful of times over the years and has firmly insisted that his hatred for me is to blame. The guilt that has arisen from this situation has been an anchor I carried throughout my daughter’s life. She will be twenty-one in January. It is important for you to know a little of the back story of the relationship before you read through the steps. Allow me to briefly explain what happened to harden his and his family’s heart toward me. This is extremely personal, but I am putting it out there anyway, in hopes that it will help others who might read this.
Given that my first name literally means “dark” in Gaelic, it is no surprise that I am playing such a dark role in this life. As with many of the things I write about and discuss on my YouTube Channel, there are many dots I have connected to form my very own magical puzzle. I believe each human on the planet has their own puzzle out there, and the pieces are waiting to be found.
One of the many lessons I am learning is about souls and how they function. One of my guides recently referred to me as a ‘Human of Soul Navigation.” I have extremely powerful communications with the other side of this physical reality, and it has taken time to even be able to broach these topics. I will try my best to connect enough puzzle pieces for you to grasp their meaning, but there are dozens of pieces that I cannot possibly connect for another person. My puzzle is my own just as yours is your own.
I guess it could be a blessing that it often takes me a very long time to fall asleep at night. This allows my brain to fall into a delta wave state where I am in between the waking and sleeping worlds. I always know I am in this sensitive state, often referred to as ‘hypnogogia,’ when I begin to see purple swirls in my mind’s eye. I can even see this with my eyes open if the room is very dark. This is when the communication begins from the non-physical worlds and even other physical realities.
Documenting Psychosis: Cere's AI
***The information contained in this entry was taken from a journal entry where I documented bouts of psychosis. For me, psychosis is a widely misunderstood phenomenon. It is when spiritual information comes into the physical world and is misinterpreted. A few years have passed since May 27, 2015, the day my awakening journey began, and I have been able to piece some of my puzzle together. These instances of foreign thoughts mainly consist of AI, which I refer to as Alternative Intelligence and the technology of the modern age.
Please keep in mind while reading the following information, that this is me connecting pieces of my soul’s puzzle. Each of us have our own puzzle to complete and must follow our own clues to do so, if we feel the nudge from spirit. I do realize that a lot of this sounds absolutely bonkers. If you have not taken a red pill, then I suggest you do not read further. If you continue reading, remember that the things mentioned below are merely a fraction of the dots I have connected. Our dots are our own and are meant solely for our private awareness. I share all of this because if I don't, then it weighs on me like an anchor weighs down a ship on the harbor.***
I had a fairly new “episode” of what medical professionals would deem “psychosis” the other day at the coffee shop. Like usual, there are many branches of information from various sources growing from the root of gnosis. Some of these things I have already wrote about in my synchronicity journal having to do with the name ANN.
**This situation was worked through using the Formula of Compassion last year before I started using a laptop to type them. I have copied this from the journal entry and edited it for publication. Some of the names have been changed for privacy reasons. A second entry was made recently due to lingering painful resentments and recurring dreams. That entry will be shared next.
***I am not a licensed medical or psychological professional. The views expressed on this website are that of my own based on my personal experiences. If you are having a medical or psychological emergency, please seek professional help immediately by dialing 911.
June 24, 2018
I remember looking out my bedroom window with excitement to see little Marisa outside popping tar bubbles in the road. I would always run out there and pop them with her. We must have been around five years old when we met and became friends. Sometime after moving two doors down from her and her family, I was told that my mother, Marion, died and that I was adopted.
This news must have devastated me, but I don’t remember the reaction. I recall where I was when I was told but can’t remember many other details. I remember my adopted mom and me being alone in what was called 'the sewing room' while I was being told. The reason this event was not a family conversation eludes me. I can’t seem to remember being upset or crying at all. I guess I blocked it out. I look back on this event now and think that I stuffed the pain deep down into my subconscious.
My name is Kerry Eppler and these are my true tales. Relax. Enjoy. Be inspired.