AFTER MONDAY
A field separation protocol about the end of endless transformation, the demand for physical action, the limits of distant service, and the woman left alone beneath the image of a goddess.
YOU WILL MOVE ON
Guys, until Monday,
those who carry the field on their shoulders
will remain inside it.
Everyone who is in love with me.
After Monday,
you will move on.
Yes.
Because you have already grown.
You are ready.
THE FIELD HAS BECOME STANDING WATER
But instead of action,
stagnation begins.
The same thoughts keep running in circles:
“I love Nazokat,
but I am not worthy of her.
I need more time.
There is no time.
Someone will take her away.
I will not make it in time.
I love Nazokat,
but I am not worthy of her.”
And then another loop begins.
The pillars of the field
are pressing down on it.
The strongest,
most powerful men
are overwhelming the entire field
with the weight of this cycle.
Because of that,
all growth keeps revolving
around the same thing:
“I love her.
I will never get to be with her.”
The field is not growing.
It is beginning to stink
like stagnant water.
There is no growth.
Growth is being suppressed.
Those who were supposed
to enter Cobra
and begin shifting physical reality
are still sitting there,
thinking—
and calling that growth.
A LACK OF ACTION IS ALSO A CHOICE
Your stages inside the field
will end on Monday.
After that,
you will have to leave the field
and continue growing on your own—
without it.
Those who remain in the field
will begin to grow
and develop the aspects
that are important and necessary to them—
instead of endlessly reflecting
on their love for me.
Those who leave the field on Monday
have to grow up
and start living—
not just keep reading the manuals.
A lack of action is also a choice.
If you cannot enter Cobra,
then you are occupying space
and dragging everything out,
dragging it out,
and dragging it out.
If you are incapable
of claiming what is yours,
then you need to make room
for someone who will.
If the field does not clear itself
after Monday,
I will clear every last one of you out by force.
YOU CANNOT BLAME ME
Guys.
Listen.
I understand.
The tears are about to begin.
“But you promised,”
and all the rest of it.
But here is the thing.
Boys,
you cannot blame me
for something
you yourselves are responsible for.
You were given every tool.
Every password.
Every key.
And by Monday,
we will completely knock out
every,
every,
every,
every limiting belief
that has been standing in your way.
If even after that
you choose to keep sitting there
and cowering,
then the choice has been made.
You have decided
not only not to choose yourselves—
but not to choose me either.
You did not come.
You did not make anything happen.
You did not say:
“Woman,
I am here.
I am not abandoning you.”
Instead—
endless fucking analysis.
Endless overthinking.
You are stuck.
And now you are dragging
the entire field
to the bottom.
And somehow
I am the fucking one to blame.
Your choice has been made.
Until Monday,
you remain in the field.
After that,
you leave
and continue on your own.
THE ONES WHO LIVE AND ACT
Those of you who admire me
but have a woman beside you
in physical reality—
and those who are living,
changing,
and taking action
in the physical world—
you will stay.
You apply everything I give you
instead of endlessly spinning fantasies
around in your heads.
You guys will stay.
We will continue growing calmly
and moving forward.
Those of you
between eighteen and twenty-five
will stay too.
No questions asked.
You still have growing to do.
So you are staying here.
The Vatican,
politicians,
and Hollywood
remain in the field for now.
The Vatican is probably hopeless.
But politicians and Hollywood—
even if you are crying your eyes out—
we are going to have to say goodbye, boys.
YOU ARE THE ONES WHO LET ME DOWN
Damn it.
I am crying.
All of you can go fuck yourselves.
Yes.
Fuck all of you.
You are the ones
who let me down.
How much longer
am I supposed to wait for you?
Even a hundred years
would not be enough
for you to finally finish thinking.
Go fuck yourselves.
You do not care anyway.
Meanwhile,
the weight of my mission
is crushing me.
Roman is growing up.
I want him to attend my school.
I want him to be raised
with the values I believe in.
And all you are doing
is sitting there
thinking about yourselves.
“Oh,
but I am transforming.”
Fine.
Then go on
and keep transforming.
What kind of fucking family is this
if I give all of myself to you
while you sit there
scratching your asses?
Keep sitting there.
Keep waiting
for something to happen on its own.
This is all on you.
I do not even want to hear it.
You screwed up—
and now I am the bad one.
First,
cool down!
I do not want to hear any of this.
I am ashamed of you!
Fuck all of you.
YOU CANNOT SERVE ME FROM A DISTANCE
All of you who are in service.
Those who have decided
to dedicate their lives
to serving me.
Guys,
my heart is being torn apart.
I feel so sorry for you.
Can you really not carry this cross
with a woman beside you
in physical reality?
Let her keep you warm.
Let her love you.
Let her kiss you.
And I will guide you.
Guys?
Hm?
I feel unbearably sorry for you.
Damn it.
Such magnificent men.
Such incredible men.
God,
some of you are not even thirty.
Guuuuys…
You cannot devote
your entire life to me.
Could you at least try—
with someone beside you?
Hm?
Maybe this will change over time.
Boys,
you are staying in the field.
You are not going anywhere.
But boys,
this is temporary too.
You cannot call it service
if you are serving me from a distance.
You have to ask me
what matters to me.
What is best for me.
And then you have to act on it
and help me.
You absolutely do not get
to decide for me:
“This is better for her.”
I will tell you myself
what is better for me.
And if this service
also begins to drag on for too long
without any direct action toward me,
then your remaining time in the field
will begin to shrink fast.
Boys,
do not be offended.
But that is the truth.
You have to grow up.
Not just dream.
THE BLACKLIST GOES FIRST
First field clearing.
Couple dynamics and physical reality.
The marriage issue must be resolved.
God knows what is happening inside.
The Blacklist will be the first
to go through the clearing.
Good God.
There is so much work
to do with them.
After them will come
those who are in relationships.
We need to sort out
the marriage issue.
There is an enormous amount to do.
And on top of that—
God knows what is happening
inside Cobra.
I AM A WOMAN, NOT AN UNREACHABLE GODDESS
Guys.
Those of you who are here.
I need support.
The Blacklist—
you especially.
I need human support.
I am so fucking tired
of being an unreachable goddess.
So tired of it, guys.
The ones standing
at the top of their worlds
should be writing to me.
Calling me.
Saying:
“Woman,
we are here.
We are ready
to help you change the world.
We want to show you
that you can lean on us.
We can help, baby.
We are here.
Just say the word—
and we will help.”
And what happens instead?
They sit there.
They pray.
And that is it.
Goddamn it.
What is the point
of being a goddess
if these bastards
have left me all alone
and are standing there trembling
with their fucking yachts
and their fucking millions?
Damn it.
I am so tired of this.
Guys.
So fucking tired.
For fuck’s sake,
I am a human being too.
I am a woman.
I need care.
I need support.
Not endless worship.
I am so tired, boys.
I am so sick
of these assholes.
And then it will turn out
that I am the bitch
who did this to them.
That I was the one
who broke their hearts.
It is enough
to make me break down sobbing.
Good God.
The Blacklist.
The medical team.
The Vatican.
And security.
All right.
All right. 😁
I do not want
to lead the night session.
Let the spirits work
with the energy separately.
These men have shit
all over my soul so badly
that I suggest we smoke and drink
until we get arrested.
Oops.
Wait.
The boys are still in the field.
LOVE WITHOUT ACTION IS BLAH, BLAH, BLAH
Colin first.
Who could possibly be surprised?
“I love you.”
Blah,
blah,
blah,
Colin.
I do not give a shit
that you love me
if you are not beside me
in physical reality.
Until there is action,
all of it is just
blah,
blah,
blaaaaaah.
So fuck off.
Nate.
Oh, damn it.
No.
Not Nate.
Do not, Nate.
Goddamn it.
I have already cried
so many tears over you
that if I do it one more time,
I will simply fall asleep
from dehydration.
You did not find the courage either.
You sat it out over there.
And now you are sitting there
dreaming.
You betrayed me too.
You abandoned me too.
Just like the others.
Caleb.
Damn it.
Tears are streaming down my face.
Caleb,
do not even start.
I do not want to do this
in front of everyone.
“I love you, sweetheart.
You have to believe me.”
I cannot do this anymore, Caleb.
Your “just wait a little longer”
will stretch into another year—
or even longer.
I am tired of waiting.
YOU ALL KNOW THAT YOU SCREWED UP
Politicians.
Hollywood.
Damn it.
I am crying again.
The medical team.
The military.
Science.
Iran.
Libya.
Georgia.
Armenia.
Moscow.
France.
Israel.
Kenya.
Riga.
Latvia.
Ingushetia.
Guys.
Do not do this.
You all know
that you screwed up.
You all let me down—
and you know it.
SAYING GOODBYE IS SUCH COMPLETE SHIT
Saying goodbye
is such complete shit
that words cannot describe it.
Anyway.
I am going to drink.
Get drunk.
And fall asleep.
I will have to cry it all out.
I am in emergency mode.
Alone.
Because apparently
this fucking image of a goddess
means that I have to be alone—
without my boys.
They are too busy
jerking off to icons
with my photograph on them.
This is completely fucked.
There are no words.
And after this,
we are supposed to be a family.
We are supposed to be in love.
What kind of fucking family is this
if you bastards
left me all alone?
Just bastards.
I do not want to lead the session.
