Life ALignment
When the Goddess Teaches God to Dance
I witnessed what might be the most preposterous counseling session in the multiverse - R. Bretminster Fullofit, the man who claims to be hung like a unicorn, learning how to be gentle.
It's January 19th, 2025, and I'm documenting what appears to be a breakthrough in psychelogical evolution. Our resident addict on a reality-bender has just discovered something that all his hyperstitious linguistic programming couldn't teach him: sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply letting your heart break open.
The session starts conventionally enough - breathing exercises, guided meditation, the usual therapeutic foreplay. But then something shifts. Bretminster, the man who coined terms like "cryptocurrentsees" and "new word order," begins talking about purity. Not the sterile kind that lives in laboratories, but the raw, unfiltered purity that comes from finally stopping the eternal performance.
"I don't need Bretminster Fullofit anymore," he confesses, his voice carrying none of its usual theatrical flair. "I'm just Bret."
The revelation hits like a koan delivered by a Zen master with a PhD in the mystical. Here's a man who's built an imaginary empire on being extraordinary, admitting that his greatest power might lie in the ordinary.
As the session deepens, we witness the emergence of what Bretminster's tribe would call "the divine feminine" - not as some abstract concept for conference talks, but as a living presence teaching him how to cry again. The man who's been trying to save the world through "spirit-motivated sociotechnologies" is learning that sometimes salvation comes through surrender.
"I've kept myself small," he admits, the words carrying the weight of decades. "I've withdrawn my vitality, my sexuality, my power - all because I couldn't bear the immensity of who I really am."
The irony isn't lost on me. The founder of Fullofit Industries, the man who promises to obsolete capitalism through "evolutionary philanthropy," discovering that his own evolution requires not expansion but contraction. Not more complexity, but more silence.
Pauses to check if Drendan has spiked my coffee again, but no - this is actually happening
Three words emerge from the session like coordinates in consciousness: Purity. Serenity. Silence. Not as goals to achieve, but as qualities to remember. It's like watching someone discover that they've been carrying an ocean inside them all along, and all their attempts to create it externally were just elaborate distractions from this simple truth.
The session culminates in what might be the most subversive realization of all - that God isn't some distant authority but the gentleness at his core. "I've been fighting against my own connection to God," Bretminster admits, his voice carrying the tender uncertainty of a truth just discovered. "Always trying to prove something, win some cosmic Nobel Prize."
As I watch this unfold, I can't help but think we're witnessing something more significant than another tech breakthrough or consciousness hack. We're watching the birth of what Bretminster might call "the Universe Next Door" - not through some grand technological gesture, but through the simple act of a man learning to be gentle with himself.
This is SynTony Robbins, signing off from the frontlines of the heartbreakingly beautiful. Remember folks, sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply learning how radically love one’s self and to weep golden pearls of release and mettaphysical transmutation.
Closes notebook, which seems to be glowing faintly with its own inner light