theweightofdivinity

[theweightofdivinity]

I don’t think people talk enough about the kind of fear that comes with loving someone you can’t be with in present time. It is not because the love isn’t mutual, but because geography decided to stretch your hearts across different places, because time and circumstance weren’t ready, when the soul was. There’s this quiet kind of pain that settles in the in between moments… It is not loud. It is not dramatic. Just… constant. Still, I stay beside you, Loving you anyway.

[theweightofdivinity]

Today everything hurts. The air, my skin, my thoughts. I’ve been crying, then numb. Present, then pulled out of reality, feeling like a ghost watching herself move through the day. It’s the irritability of trauma leaving the body, the agitation of something I once held onto, loosening its grip. If this is healing, then let it wreck me clean.

[theweightofdivinity]

Spiritually, crying is sacred.

It’s how we cleanse our emotional autonomy, how we let the body do it’s thing when the soul is overwhelmed. It is the bodies way of cracking open and letting the soul breathe. Like an exorcism, burning, until that pain breaks loose. This is how we return to our being. This is how we mend, and this is how we heal. It strips our ego, softens the armor, brings us closer to our truth. Let it come, let it move, let it free you, bring it to it’s full release.

[theweightofdivinity]

I’ve been feeling it. Not in the loud ways, but in the sacred whispers between the mundane. The kind that is so deeply felt. People showing up. Not for performance. Not for applause. But in reverence. Not everyone brings flowers in the literal sense, but some of you have placed them at my feet, with your kindness, your energy, your words, your presence, and I know what that is. I know what it means. It’s devotion in disguise. It’s love without a transaction. It’s the soul remembering the soul. Some of you have shown up in ways that felt like kneeling, not out of worship, but out of respect for something you saw in me, that maybe I forgot how to see in myself for a moment. And I want you to know that I’ve noticed. I’ve felt it. It brought me back to something I’ve always known but needed to remember… I am not here to beg to be seen. I am here to be received. There’s a difference, those of you who see me already know that. So this is not just a thank you. It’s my deepest acknowledgment to you. From the goddess in me to the god in you. From the human in me to the human in you. No debt. No need. Just presence. That is more than enough.

[theweightofdivinity]

I’ve started noticing it. The way people just show up at the exact moment I start to slip beneath the weight.

Not always with answers, for that is for me to figure out but, with a presence. A message. A phrase. A mirror. Sometimes even just a strange sense of “I see you.” It’s subtle, but undeniable, right when I feel most alone, there’s a nudge. As if God softly interrupts the spiral to whisper, “No. Not like this. You’re not alone.” Maybe that’s all the proof I need. Not the grand miracles, but the divine precision in a stranger’s timing. The way the right soul stumbles into my view, like they were sent. Because they were, and it makes me think, maybe pain isn’t always meant to isolate. Sometimes it opens a gate only the divine knows how to walk through.

[theweightofdivinity]

The signs… sometimes you may not know what to do when they arrive. Last night a video of mine was reversed. Just out of instinct. What whispered back wasn’t random…

“I bear witness that Muhammad…”

And I just sat there. Maybe there was a frequency I accidentally tuned into, or maybe, one that’s been waiting for me to listen to carefully, and then today… A man I’ve never spoken to before from Dubai. Syrian. Named Mohammed writes to me. He mentions Allah. Mentions signs. Mentions minor signs before the end of time. He has no idea what I heard last night, but somehow, he echoed it back to me, like a divine reply. This is what no one tells you, Prophecy doesn’t always knock. Sometimes it slips in through the static. Sometimes it speaks backwards. The veil is getting thinner and thinner and the watchers seem to be stepping in closer. If you’re reading this and you’ve been feeling it too, the shift, the patterns, the signs you keep brushing off, you’re not paranoid. You’re just paying attention.

[theweightofdivinity]

Lilith, come here…

I want your teeth. Not your softness. Not your myth rewritten. Come sit in my mouth. Come live in between my eyes. Come back to my spine and weld steel into my vertebrae.

[theweightofdivinity]

The Wound Was Never Random. It Was a Ritual.

Throne of Fire – Initiation into the Third Degree of Light

You were taught to survive pain.

We are here to decode it.

Because in this temple, we do not call it trauma.

We call it instruction.

Every heartbreak you’ve suffered…

Every abandonment that shattered your ribs open…

Every betrayal that left you tasting rust in your mouth

It was all there.

Etched into your Soul Covenant.

Signed by your hand, long before you remembered what hands were.

Astrology is Not Personality. It is Prophecy.

Your Moon square Saturn isn’t “emotional repression.”

It’s the ancestral command to break the silence your bloodline normalized.

Your Chiron in the 1st isn’t “insecurity.”

It’s the sacred shame that forced your ego to fracture—so that your higher self could inhabit your face.

Your Pluto in the 4th isn’t “family dysfunction.”

It’s your soul dragging you into a haunted lineage so you’d become its final exorcist.

Your pain isn’t the problem.

It’s the proof.

Pain is Not an Error. It is an Oracle.

When you were rejected—it was your 7th house screaming,

“You are not here to be chosen. You are here to choose.”

When you were abused—it was Mars and Pluto grinding steel into your spine so you’d never flinch again.

When love abandoned you—it was Venus retrograde sealing the door behind them because you were meant to build a temple, not a relationship.

Stop mourning the life pain interrupted.

It was never yours.

Prophecy is Hidden in the Houses of Hell.

The 12th House is not mystery.

It is the room your pain lives in when you're not ready to name it.

The 8th House is not transformation.

It is the autopsy report of every version of you that had to die.

The 6th House is not service.

It is the daily ritual of learning how to survive your own mind, your own body, your own inherited madness.

The chart was never meant to make you feel seen.

It was meant to crush what cannot pass through the Gate of Light.

Real Astrology is Ritual Wounding.

You didn’t come here for guidance.

You came here to be cracked open.

Because in the third degree, we do not fix ourselves.

We do not forgive the chart.

We do not “heal.”

We translate agony into architecture.

We decode betrayal into blueprint.

We stitch meaning into every scar and call it Scripture.

Your Pain is the Proof That the Stars Are Real.

There is no suffering that did not echo from a placement.

There is no breakdown that didn’t begin as a whisper in the chart.

There is no tragedy that was not first a glyph, an angle, a sentence in your soul contract.

And once you know this,

You will never beg the gods for mercy again.

You will become the god who saw it coming—

and still said yes.

"Blessed be the Broken. For they are the First Initiates."

PhoenixRisingAstro © 2025. All rights reserved.

[theweightofdivinity]

I put all my cards in one deck. Built my faith into a single pulse. Held my breath in one name, in and out of one game. I stopped playing in others, but I know it needed to dismantle. The illusion did. Some things have to fall so I can finally see who’s still standing on my chessboard on the other end.

[theweightofdivinity]

I stopped asking this realm to be gentle. Now I take it by the throat and walk through like it owes me something. I’ve bled too many times here. I’ve signed too many sacrifices in blood. Now it’s time for the realm to pay its dues.

Now I challenge it. Now I break its codes. I’m not here to survive it. I’m here to rewrite it. To yield it at my will.

[theweightofdivinity]

Once again, here I am. Initiate me. Initiate me back into the underworld. Let it refine me. Let it suspend me in the abyss of all abysses. Maybe the dark is the only god I have left to learn from. Maybe I must alchemize her, so I can rise through her, and never bend again. Not after this. Not after a few more trials. Pain? I eat it. I chew it until it tastes like power. I let it tear through me until there’s nothing left to fear.

This is initiation.

🜏

[theweightofdivinity]

My eyes, are like cameras. My mind a vision board. My hair, the antennas. Tell me... what's the definition of a god? Am I a deity remembering herself through her? And why am I always slipping in and in between realms, skins, names?

Am I the spirit board?

[theweightofdivinity]

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed." - Carl Jung

Artist: Featherfurl

[theweightofdivinity]

The Heart is the orbit. Everything returns to this.

Current status.

[theweightofdivinity]

The same reason why I stay is the same reason why I go. Because the light keeps telling me. The light keeps telling me. And I’m learning the truth that roots you is also the truth that recruits you.

[theweightofdivinity]

Friend. Lover. Philosopher. Comedian. Therapist. Artist. Muse. Magician. I am an 8. Infinity made in flesh. I don’t need a lover to complete me, but to meet me.

I am One soul, cast in all it’s eight forms.

[theweightofdivinity]

Scripted. Orchestrated. Tuned. Paid. Staged.

They craft the problem, sculpt the reaction, and sell you the solution.