Uniting Spiritual Truth to the Physical Plane.

In the sacred silence after my mom's passing, there was a transformation taking place. I began to hear the echo of Christ's final words - not as distant scripture, but as a tender, alive presence, whispering through my grief and into the soul of the world.

His final words are a map toward a new outlook, a passage through death into divine awakening - a love letter to our human condition.

What is it that dies for the salvation of humanity? 

... ego, or the supercharged, unsupervised, and ignorant perceptions, ideas, identities, beliefs, and assumptions that keep us in judgment of others, separate and apart. Our humanity and the passion of Christ lie just beneath this veil. 🙏

Forgiveness: “Father, forgive them; For they know not what they do.”

 Forgiveness is not forgetting. It is awakening.

Jesus begins with forgiveness. Even as the world fails Him, He sees its ignorance, not its evil. “Evil” is the word “live” spelled backwards. Ignorance causes us to see a life as "un-lived. This is not a passive gesture nor reform; it's a spiritual revolution – we are “rolling back” ignorance like a reticulating membrane to see life as it is.

To be free from anger, bitterness, grief, jealousy, and desire of any kind is to recognize that ignorance blinds us to our shared suffering – the way a toothache feels different from a migraine, but both experience pain. We do not blame the head or tooth for our pain. Suffering is in trying to have it recognized as worthy to the whole.

In the same way, every soul has a unique way of sensing, carrying, and expressing sorrow and joy – when my eyes still ache to see my mother, compassion holds the space as they cry, and grace receives those tears without condition.
 

Salvation: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

 Paradise is not someplace conditional. It is radical and eternal.

Even in a state of agony, Christ extends grace, called Hari in Greek, to the thief beside him - a man condemned and discarded by society like Himself. 

This is radical love - the reminder that paradise is not out of our reach, not a place of “choice” nor for the “chosen”. It is the space where love meets accountability and care, where the heart turns toward the light, even in its final hour. This is what awakening looks like - not perfection, but belonging and welcoming.

In paradise, we find safety as we are. No more stories or ideas that separate us; our accountability ushers salvation.
 

Relationship: “Woman, behold your son. Behold your mother.”

 Awakening sees the soul in every face.

At this point, Christ asks us to see each other not as strangers but as family. As he surrenders His identity, he builds a bridge of relationship with the world - the way trees co-create above ground while mycelium communicates below. 

Earth is our mother. We come from Her. And to honor life means to honor Her. To care for one another is not to remove each other's strength, but to not block the path to joy.

When we treat one another as less than - by gender, color, creed, or by whom we love - we create a profound separation. As those who have suffered respond with equal harm, demanding justice in ways that silence or dominate, the fracture only deepens.

This is not the path of awakening. It is the disengagement of the ego, through non-violence and unconditional courage.
 

Abandonement: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

 Feelings of Abandonment isolate us from faith.

Even Jesus cried out as He entered the void of existential crisis. 

There’s something deeply human and holy in these words; a Dark Night of the Soul is not a failure, but the transformative inner space in which we are stripped bare of all identity, emotion, reason or blame. With nothing left (to lose) Jesus is left with nothing but longing.

Where do we go when no object or place outside ourselves will heal this doubt?

In despair, Jesus doesn’t turn away. He speaks to God, even when God feels absent, he returns to an unshakeable faith: When I am still enough to listen to that small, still voice within, I am found.

Distress: “I thirst.”

 This is more than physical thirst or desire; it’s the soul's cry for union.

We're all thirsty for meaning - truth, a place to call home - and it comes when our illusions fall away. In seeking something outside ourselves, we have denied something within. It comes when we grow tired of cycles of war, retaliation, injustice - tired of trying to fix the world with tweezers, tired of changing who we are becoming.

Faith carries us through this distress, and, in the cessation of that thirst and desire to control or separate, we find peace.
 

Triumph: “It is finished.”

 This is not a point of defeat but triumph. It is a great exhale and the soul’s sigh of surrender.

There comes a time when striving ends, when we grow weary of the details, of telling the same story over and over again - not because we have given up or that another has exerted their will upon us, but because we've grown to trust what is here because of there.

Everything that is here right now is part of the solution. This is how the past is always with us. Without accountability for our part in the past, we are kept from the wisdom of its solution.

 
Unity: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

This is the final return, and the sacred surrender to the Universal.
 

This is how Christ died. And it is how we are invited to live. To trust, to release, to fall gently back into the hands that have always held us.

Christ’s last words are not final; they begin our becoming and call us back to compassion -- back to the heart to fearlessly see life as it is – and say yes to unconditional love.
 

Onward!

🕊️