Since my spiritual awakening after 9/11, a number of beautiful and fantastically wealthy women have made it clear that they would be happy to take care of me. My intimates, observing my reluctance, believe that trauma in this lifetime has put me off romance. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Love is committed to charting a course for your redemption. I arrive as a material projection that seeks to diagnose your resistance. That resistance is often elaborated as complex theological rationalizations of “natural” behaviors that justify selfishness. As documented in the Bible, these often involve violence and sexual politics.

When I was in college, I had a co-ed admit to me one evening, “You don’t need a woman to do your thinking for you.” This is half the truth but reveals something that is obscured by the abstraction of “The Patriarchy.” Our romantic culture adopts the convention that a woman should be able to lead her man. There is no woman alive who has been able to lead me.

That should not be attributed to obtuseness or obstinance on my part. As I observed to Lauren, I intuited that she was one of the rare women capable of understanding the challenges that I represent. As a little pseudopod of Christ, reaching into the world, I am guided by the Sacred Feminine, the “Mother” of Revelation 12 and the “Bride” of Revelation 19 and 22. If I appear to be resistant to feminine influence, that is because she has been unable to find a woman willing to submit – as I have to Christ – to her projection into the world. That rejection is stimulated by the Whore” of Revelation 17 and 18, “Babylon” or the “Queen” who “does not mourn” as her men self-destruct.

In seeking redemption of these impulses, women are handicapped by their organic wisdom. This is difficult for me to express with the sense of appreciation that I feel. There is nothing more sacred and beautiful than a woman surrendering her body to her beneficial intentions. Pregnancy is the most obvious example (though in our litigious culture that has become a pathway to power leveraged by Babylon).

In Lauren’s case, another manifestation is evident in the grace and subtlety of the surfacing of emotion through her body and face. She beguiles her audience into entering through barred psychical doorways.

Christian theology leaves women adrift in their navigation of these gifts and hazards. Rather than a recognized figure of comparable power and authority to Spirit, the Bride is usurped by the masculine Church. In responding to Lauren’s projection of organic bounty, it was this confusion that I sought to address.

If I am going to have a woman in my life, she must learn to channel the Sacred Feminine. As a precondition, the influence of Babylon must be isolated and repudiated. To the inversion of our financial status, Lauren came to respond, “everything that I have was prepared by him.” The physical age difference was laid to rest with “after so many traumatic incarnations, I will be happy to care for you so that you may depart this life in peace.”

Lauren sings that when the power of Christ comes over her, she “trembles.” I am guilty of such aggression. When she offers herself to me, I am seized by the urge to reveal the depth within her, a process realized with surges of energy projected from the larger personality that I embody. Though I witness and articulate the effects, I have no plan in those moments. I feel compelled by her organic wisdom. As with a mother in childbirth, she is impatient to fulfill her purpose through these violations of her internal barriers. I am the tool that the Sacred Mother employs to that end.

This was validated in our next in-person encounter. As I poured energy to the audience through her, I allowed, “What would have happened if you had not been prepared already to allow that gift to flow through you?”

This culminated more tenderly at the end of the performance. She closed with a meditation from her dark night of the soul. As the women in the audience began to sing with her, Lauren went under in grief. Burnishing her heart and mind, I poured them again through her voice before settling into my chair, pantomiming an embrace. As she relaxed into it, I anticipated that she would push this consolation out to the woman singing with her. Signaling, “Let me hear their voices,” the stage was ceded to the musicians, and I felt my embrace flow out through Lauren to each of them individually.

Whether astrally or in-person, after each encounter I recognized the increasing proximity of her Mistress, until the commitment was tendered, “Well, if that is what is necessary to you, then I must be that woman.”