A personal account of how shared holding revealed the wisdom within fear, illuminating the metaphysics of community, relationality, and sacred stewardship.

We no longer ask "What is this teaching me?" but "What's wrong with me for feeling it?"

By learning about the Sacred Predator and then engaging it, you are not simply studying a story. You are not merely calling up a force or energy. You are meeting a teacher. And this teacher instructs not by comfort but by confrontation. Relationship with the Sacred Predator becomes part of your own transformation, from one bound by duality, appearance, and conditioning into one who can dwell in the nondual, the fractal, and the noetic. This is the work of initiation:

Confronting the Coldness of the Sacred Predator reveals this force as fierce love and protection, often misunderstood as cruelty or control.

The Sacred Predator does not arrive in abstraction or imagination. It comes to look through our eyes, to signal through our body, to act from within our marrow. When we act in its name too soon, we risk mistaking our baggage for its sight. We risk moving from unexamined indoctrination, from wounds unhealed, from immaturities undeveloped, or from the Protector Self that imitates fierceness but is fueled by defense and survival. The Sacred Predator does not confuse itself with

When violence erupts, it reveals something larger than the act itself. We see the event, but beneath it are currents shaping the whole of our shared life: people swept into binary outrage, voices using divisive language or failing to stand for love, cruelty disguised as righteousness, and a collapse of discernment so complete that even those dedicated to truth are caught in its undertow.

Fierceness is the part of us that cuts through distortion and says with clarity: This belongs. That does not. It is the force that guards beauty, dignity, joy, love, innocence, and the creative fire itself. Without this current awake in us, those qualities are left exposed, vulnerable to violation or collapse.

We are starving for the divine. That hunger is everywhere. It shows itself in the restless way people chase meaning, in the empty shrine of materialism, in the way despair creeps in when nothing seems to matter. This hunger has been so twisted that longing itself is treated as foolish.

The kind of power I call Feral Power—the wild, sacred current that animates a coherent field—doesn’t live in performance. It doesn’t need to be believed in. It doesn’t seek attention. It moves where there is integrity, contact, and availability. And it does not stay where there is distortion, agenda, or collapse masquerading as care.

When we see the sacredness of existence, the question is never truly "is it worth the care?". That is missing the point. The question is always, “what accountability am I willing to exercise here and to what will I exercise it?”

Survival strategies become roles we forget we are performing—roles that bury who we are. Your Soul Will Keep Starving Until You Face Your Own Distortions explores how facing our own chaos is the first true act of devotion. Power doesn’t begin with potency. It begins with choosing our soul over survival.

These two forces often feed each other. Victim energy and Predatory energy are entangled. They both disconnect us from truth. They both create confusion in the field. And most people have both alive in them—running unconscious, running fast, running the show.

We spend our lives swimming in power currents we pretend aren’t there. One of the most corrosive mistakes we make—especially those of us drawn to healing, devotion, or “goodness”—is treating predator energy as inherently harmful.

I know that many people are naturally religious, where relationship with the Divine is a sacred longing in their heart and gut. That the Divine is portrayed dualistically and as an irrational superstition in modern times means many people privately suffer.

What Happens When We Listen for Truth Instead of Story? We all live within the confines of Story. Story is formed from your particular...

Rooted spirituality begins where the ‘ascend, expand, evolve’ slogans end. We grow roots into the relational field and LISTEN. We listen to what arises, what pulls, what needs.

There is something so strange about time and connection and the joy that descends with you as you fall through the cracks of this world. We are riddled with stories of changing our fate - that we create and choose in ways that naively ignore an ancient weaving.

The surprising thing, as I look back now, is the total absence of danger or bad encounters I experienced. I mean with rattlesnakes and alligator lizards and herds of cattle. I mean cliff sides and flash floods and breaking tree limbs. I was never actually hurt. Never.