Egodeath storie

I'm not good with descriptions sooooooo... yeah.

This isnt a story more or less a hypothisis i have on the world famous book "The Christmas Carol" and how it plays into how our mind deals with death.

Boy discovers he is a god incarnated as a human being during societal spiritual desolation.

What if your power didn't come from control but surrender? Higher Law is not about religion. It's about remembering. Remembering who made you. Who sustains you. Who breaks you just enough to shape you. This chapter is for the ones who feel chosen but burdened. The ones who want to rise but keep getting humbled. It's a raw blueprint for what happens when you stop chasing validation and start walking in alignment with something higher than you. This isn't about being holy. It's about being used. Used for something greater. Used for something divine. And most of all, used on purpose.

Dominiqua "Dom" Jackson starts a new school to have some breathing room from her overbearing, alcoholic mother. As soon as she settles in at her new college students/faculty/and townspeople go missing. The friends she gathers are seemingly what she needs to come out of her shell, but they hold a secret greater than she can fathom. Once she's thrust into their ranks she fears that the darkness that's taking people may be after her. Trigger Warnings :Past rape being dealt with in the present to heal, alcoholic parent, absent dad, friend dying of cancer, school shooting. This is a story of how trauma can fester& multiple if not faced over time. It's a story of how to heal the heart & mind & soul

Unfolding the mind through trauma can be diffcult and honestly feel like you're going a bit crazy... But learning and unlearning, self love and time with self to understand and heal leds you to your true light. I've been called to send this message and aid those who wish to break out this Matrix and find who you were meant to be.

Ego Death

a journey on the magic carpet to a momentous affair, declared the death of my ego.

A short story about a man whose life is a self-constructed black hole and his chance encounter with an elderly, blue-eyed wastrel. Contains: minor dissociation, minor suicidal ideation

A collection of poems written by a highly sensitive 26 year old empath going through a spiritual awakening, gaining her abilities, unlearning life's fallacies and discovering love in all the mystery.

this is a poem about The Destruction of the Ego for the Healing of Mind,Soul/Body/Ba, and Spirit

Nourish your mind, heart, and soul with profound concepts of the human experience explored in this psychedelic short story. Full of magic, brilliant color, love, and ancient myth, a transcendental tale is told by a psychonaut as he departs on a spiritual voyage. This is the first of my psilosophy series: a collection of short stories inspired by the breakthroughs of my psilocybin experiences.

It's just some poems I wrote to help me make sense out of what, at times, feels senseless. They don't all rhyme but there was a reason for every one of them. I hope at least someone can make some sense out of this humble collection, which will undoubtedly, sometimes seem senseless.

body parts are made up and deserve no specific nouns. I cannot run.

Some pearls of chabad chassidus of the souls journey to this world.

small pieces of writing--poetry, thought, story. Do not copy or use without my consent.

There are many people who think they are saved when they are not. False conversions abound in the religious literature. Some people mistakenly think that acts of the will, the sinner's prayer, or altar calls are signs of being born again. They are not. Many are being deceived by false teachings. In this paper, I outline the only way to regeneration and rebirth in Christ.

He was the type to shrug at ruin. Cold, cocky, careless-his mask was confidence, but beneath it lay only dust and absence. Promises meant nothing. Apologies never came. He moved through others' lives like a storm without aftermath, leaving behind silence, not sorrow. At least, that's what he told himself. But now, something clings to him. A shadow etched in red. A raven, slick and bleeding with memory, has nested on his head-its claws sunk into the rot of everything he pretended not to feel. No one else sees it, but it watches him constantly, whispering truths he spent years ignoring. He doesn't remember the names of those he hurt. But the raven does. And as the walls of his reality melt into guilt-soaked hallucinations, the figure who once stood above it all is forced to reckon with a version of himself even he forgot existed. He is nameless. He is forgotten. But the raven remembers.

An ode of a paradox and ego death