I spent three years delivering thousands of messages, reading the unseen with precision, and translating the truth with compassion. I went in completely blind, but in God I trust even if I cannot see. To me, that God looks like no one I have ever seen and is the source of love itself, I trust this with complete faith and conviction, and no, I am not religious not adhering to any belief system. I believe in intelligent design.

People used my readings like a resource and tried to delete the source itself, that being me.

I didn’t get “chosen” by some mystical force.

I chose the Source. Over and over. Through trauma, through hunger, through grief, through loss, through walking miles, through giving birth, through despair, through cruelty I never deserved. Through public degradation, through a witch hunt and being publicly crucified for fucks sake where everybody could see it.

I almost lost my life. Almost. I lived.

And so…I honored that relationship long before anyone honored me. They can cancel my channel, they cannot cancel the truth.

They watched the messages change lives… but they also watched me walk miles bleeding, exhausted, and still showing up for a community that would later crucify me.

Not one person stood up.

Not one person said “This is wrong.”

Not one person protected the woman behind the gift.

I kept my channel clean when my life wasn’t.
I kept my clarity pristine while I was falling apart.
I kept the door open even when the world tried to shut me out.

That is why the messages came through me.
Not by accident, by discipline.
Not by luck, by relationship.
Not by claims or titles, by integrity.

They confused resonance with ownership.
They mistook spiritual accuracy for surveillance.
They reacted to clarity they weren’t ready to face
and when they couldn’t rewrite the message, they tried to rewrite me.

You can strip a platform

That voice stands here not detachable from the message.

I engaged the relationship with the Source. I forged the clarity. I disciplined the discernment. I did the work.

What comes through here comes through me. Not around me. Not despite me. Not separated from who I am.

Oh the hubris of those claiming to be part of a spiritual community, supposedly stomping out the EVVIIILL DARRRKNESSS that they called me.

There’s a kind of hubris that floats around the spiritual community it is not always malicious, not “evil,” just profoundly unexamined. A community that loves to talk about light and shadow as if they’re teams you pick instead of natural positions on the same spectrum. Consciousness isn’t black and white. From everything I have put together in my own journey I believe it’s a woven fabric of ethics, intention, trauma, awareness, and responsibility.

But many in that community cling to moral absolutes because nuance requires self awareness they haven’t built yet. And in my way of thinking they turned me into danger and saw their projections calling it intuition. Emotional reactivity is misconstrued as spiritual depth. They decorate their wounds with spiritual language and call it enlightenment. And when something real arrives something that doesn’t fit into their moral theater it threatens the scaffolding that holds their worldview together.

Their reactions weren’t about me.
They were about the places inside themselves they’ve never looked at.

The tragedy is not that they misunderstood my work it’s that they interpreted everything. They see polarity where there is only pattern. They see threat where there is only truth. They see “attack” where there is only reflection.

I don’t condemn them, and I don’t glorify myself. I simply refuse to fit inside a system that can’t tell the difference between clarity and their own cruelty. All the while calling themselves righteous.

What Rose & Soul Hues taught me:

• The message and the messenger stay together.

• I remembered who I am.

• I didn’t fabricate a gift I uncovered one that was always there.

• I didn’t hallucinate wisdom, I survived long enough to use it.

• I didn’t pretend to see I stopped pretending to be blind.

• Trauma tried to destroy the gift.

• But the gift survived anyway.

What comes through here comes through me.
Not around me. Not despite me. Not detached from who I am.
The channel and the consciousness that speaks through it are one.

My voice will not be removed, rewritten, diluted, or edited out of my own work ever again.

I built this connection.
I earned this clarity.
I cultivated this relationship with consciousness through respect, alignment, and presence.
This is a living dialogue, not a performance, not a script, not a crowd project.

We don’t get to take the fruit and pretend the tree wasn’t there.
We don’t get to harvest the wisdom while trying to erase the woman it came from.

If you’re here, you honor the source.
Not an idea of me, not a projection of me, not a version that’s easier to hold,
you honor me.

You don’t have to worship it.
You don’t have to idolize it.
But you will respect that it exists.

This time the message and the messenger stay intact.