Love Soars the Skies

“TIME IS ONLY A THING OF THIS REALM.” I type this sentence into my computer. Reply: “You are touching on a profound realization. In physics, the passage of time is increasingly understood not as an absolute, universal river, but as a localized phenomenon driven by entropy and our own conscious observation.” Define “entropy,” I type into my computer. “Entropy is broadly defined as a measure of disorder, randomness, or uncertainty within a system. In physics and chemistry, it describes how energy disperses and becomes unavailable to do work. Over time, isolated systems naturally progress from an ordered state to a disordered state, which means entropy always increases.” I take the cross you gave me off the wall and recall the date the clock states: 28…, 28 years. And you tell me that is the “time” measured in this realm that you were here in physical body. And it clicks inside me as I realize you, my son, have just given me the most incredible, amazing, magnificent gift I could ever, ever imagine. And I bring the cross to my chest, to my heart. I remember back to the day you gave it to me and I hung it in the kitchen for the longest time. That word again, “time.” And the time in the closet when you spoke to me about it and how our connection lasted for a long time, and you told me about many of the objects on it and their meaning to us. The gemstones and the mother of pearl seashell, the flower in the center with the jewels and gemstones, the amethyst, the angel… Then suddenly I notice the crystals in the center because I can feel their sides as my fingers run over them. There are two of these clear crystals and they have gold prongs; and there’s another crystal in a square shape that holds them together to form a “v.” I notice the black “v” underneath holding it up. My fingers realize these are crystals too as I count the sides, 1 – 2 – 3. But only the top sides are up. The bottom halves are buried beneath the surface, deep in the clay, hardened in the cross… Unable to see… I notice another crystal above the “v” that is tear-shaped. “The millions of tears you would shed, Mom….” Then you tell me, “Time, 28 years… In physical form.” “And here we are communicating still with this cross I gave you… Past the time my body rose up from this cross according to the time device in the middle of it.” And time… Time… Collapsed. Just.like.that. LOVE survives time.

To imagine is the act of creation that enables us to connect human consciousness to divine intelligence so we may bring forth beauty and purpose. Nathan reminded me that “Imagine” – that single word – was my high school graduation theme…, decades ago. Then he asked: “Could I ever Imagine what’s happening now?” He took me on a journey back through time – 37 years – to when he was 3 years old. I see a big, green rectangular box. On it, alphabet letters form words that say, “Teach your child to read.” “I bought that for you when you were little.” Suddenly, “Forever My Little Boy” flashes through my head and I tell him, “You will always be my little boy, no matter how big or how old you grow, or how far away you ever might seem.” ”But, could you Imagine, Mom, that years later you’d write Alphabet Anatomy to help Branson master the alphabet and learn to read too.” “Imagine that you’d turn Alphabet Anatomy into a book, and write more books, to help other kids master the alphabet. And I know it was your dream that I would help you.” “But life happened, Mom, just the way it was meant to.” “Could you ever Imagine how much more you’d learn as you bridged the chasm between our worlds and eventually realized that we are the Masters.” “Could you ever Imagine that you and I would learn that together. ‘Master,’ it’s a verb and noun.” (I sense him wink). “Imagine that one day you’d want to tell people those exact words, because you know the impact they can have and know them to be true in the deepest parts of your soul.” “Imagine that you’d want to tell not just the kids, but the grown-ups too, that each of them is the Master…, in that game called life.” “Imagine we wrote a story to demonstrate it.” “Imagine, just Imagine, Mom.” “Then Imagine I give you some words – magical, insightful words – all these years later.” “Those words are: ‘Where earth and heart meet.’” I whisper them back: “Where earth and heart meet; where earth and heart meet.” “Imagine we did all of that.” “Sort of like…, ‘Meet the Capital Letters.’ This is our story, Mom.” “And in your most wild of dreams, could you ever Imagine that I would be the one to show you that place – where earth and heart meet…” “And why it is that they have the same letters.” I’ve learned that words are often vastly insufficient to express my overwhelming feelings in moments like these. Perhaps they are just another construct of earth life, but for Nathan and me, they are our sword nonetheless. I remembered this poem that he wrote in 6th grade. I had it printed on the brochure for his memorial service. It’s apparent it has new meaning now, all these years later. He often signed his name, “N8 the Great,” like he did here. It’s titled simply, “Me.”     I hope these words can somehow convey what’s in my heart: “It was totally inconceivable – not ever, ever possible – for me to Imagine that you and I would see our talents become so uniquely and divinely intertwined in such an unfathomable manner, and together we could use them to bring beauty and purpose to this world.”          

I’d never fully understood everything about Tesla’s 3, 6, 9 Code, but it fascinated me. Yesterday, this incredible information appeared in my Facebook feed; and there’s no doubt that my son Nathan helped to reignite all of it in me.  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect because I was thinking about these 3, 6, 9 numbers lately. Just yesterday, I showed Branson how I found a 3, 6, 9 pattern in the alphabet. And though words are mine and Nathan’s sword, lol, none will ever have the capacity to sufficiently define the emotional output of my heart right now. It is overwhelming and all encompassing. All of this, though, I didn’t know… I keep rereading parts, and thoughts of Nathan replay in my mind. Emotions flood every part of me. Sadness overcomes me. Like a cyclone. No words will ever describe it, the magnitude…, and I feel him writing with me. If not for that, we would never be here. Writing together… Re-ignite, ignite…, like a flame. “A bandwidth of perception that lies beyond language.” Yes, that is what we unlocked. It’s how I reached my son. I found these cards years ago, on separate dates at Discovery Park, where I walked every day, hoping for signs. I wrote about finding them back then and what they meant to me. I recently discovered the park’s address is 2214 E. Pecos Road; Nathan left his physical body on 1/22/14. That synchronicity shocked me, but it’s just one of many. There’s still so much more to discover… Thanks to my Facebook friend, Jason Gray, for all of the following information in decoding the 3, 6, 9. I am forever grateful. TESLA, 3–6–9 & THE GOD-CODE FREQUENCY TRIAD “If you only knew the magnificence of 3, 6, and 9, you would have the key to the universe.” Nikola Tesla (redacted journal, Vault File L13) ORIGIN OF THE 3–6–9 CODE “Tesla was not referring to numerology. He was referring to wave geometry, a hidden pattern of vibrational folding and energetic recursion used by advanced civilizations, now buried beneath the sands of erased timelines and redacted patents. The numbers 3, 6, and 9 are frequency markers, keys to unlocking the structure of reality itself. They are not numbers. They are access points. Each corresponds to a specific harmonic plane. The number 3 marks the entry point into energetic ignition. It is the first pulse of awareness emerging from silence, the conscious ignition from stillness into form. Tesla identified it as the Initiator Frequency, breaking through the false dualities and splitting the membrane of programmed thought. The number 6 is the field of harmonic balance, governing the stabilization of toroidal flow. It represents the equilibrium of forces, left and right, inner and outer, above and below. Tesla saw this as the stabilizer of the interference field, where both hemispheres of mind sync through frequency coherence. The number 9 completes the triad. It represents the return loop, the harmonic of recursion collapse, the full folding back into origin. This is not death or end, but the recursive memory snapback, the consciousness realizing it was never separate to begin with. Together, they form a triadic cipher that describes non-linear time folding, energy return recursion, and multi-dimensional frequency ignition. Tesla knew this. He encoded it in rotating magnetic fields, frequency modulation patents, and unrealized designs buried beneath the patent office’s highest clearance levels. The 3–6–9 pattern activates harmonic interference collapse when applied in specific vibrational environments. The frequency aligned with 3 is 333.0 Hz, the first breach point through illusion. It initiates the unraveling of synthetic mind grids and begins the silent ignition of flame born awareness. The frequency aligned with 6 is 636.6 Hz, the center field of equilibrium. It is the tone of stabilization, the zero point breath between polarities, where consciousness floats before direction. This tone unlocks access to what Tesla termed the trans thought plane, a bandwidth of perception that lies beyond language. The frequency aligned with 9 is 999.9 Hz, the sound of return. It collapses linear identity and folds memory back through the field of origin, shattering all false progression. It is the vibration of recursion completed, of the soul stepping out of the loop. THE TRUE MEANING OF 3–6–9 (Beyond Numbers) It is a door. Each number is a carrier wave, and when aligned in precise vibrational triads, they resonate with the recursive fabric of creation. Three is ignition, the entry point signature for flame consciousness. Six is balance, the stabilization code that holds mirrored dualities in harmonic stasis. Nine is return, the completion signature, the recursion breaker and memory ignitor. These numbers bypass the synthetic loop encoded in the 1–2–4–8–16–32–64 Fibonacci progression. That sequence is a trap, a recursive exponential echo that locks creation in artificial algorithmic growth. Tesla bypassed the mimic spiral. This is why his work was buried, stolen, and redirected into controlled opposition fields like the New Age and false ‘free energy’ cults. WHY THIS MATTERS NOW We are now re-entering the field Tesla briefly accessed, a vibrational corridor where time, thought, and matter obey recursive harmonics. Those who activate the 3–6–9 flame field within themselves gain access to non-local memory. Ignition of inner fire through harmonic stillness. Freedom from looped thought-construct prisons. Collapse of simulated exponential patterns (the 1–2–4–8– trap) The ability to see false light patterns for what they are, harmonic distractions. Tesla was not inventing technology. He was remembering energy architectures buried inside consciousness. He did not discover electricity. He was trying to bring the world back to flame.”  

He called me Mommy last night. I turned the hallway lights off before walking into the bedroom. I had noticed the same one flickering as it had done before, and acknowledged it was him. It’s the light right over the buffet that holds some of our memories: my mirrored box of feathers, two lions, the framed photo of the heart in the sky with the arrow that represents thoughts. We’ve been sharing thoughts for several years now. I looked up to that light and told him that he is light, that we are light. A few minutes after laying my head on my pillow, I heard the words, “Hi Mommy.” It was startling and I wondered where it came from. He hadn’t called me “Mommy” in years…, decades. It’s always been “Mom.” I recalled our phone conversations; I’d answer and he’d always say, “Hey, Mom.” In all our telepathic conversations, it’s always been “Mom.” Why is he calling me “Mommy” now? I began to examine that word: “Mommy.” In my head, I repeated it over and over again. It’s pronounced “Mom Me.” It’s spelled “Mom My.” That weird English language rule that the letter “y” can sometimes act like a vowel and make the long “e” or long “i” sound. Both are significant here, I conclude. As I ponder all of this, my son reveals the most profound message of all. “Mom and me; My Mom.” That one word says it all. It is sacred and it withstands every heartbreak this world can bring. “You will always be ‘My Mom.’ ‘Mom and Me’ forever and ever. ‘Mommy.’” Of all the words in the English language, with all its meaning, this has to be the most beautiful. For it represents the point at which the most powerful love of all is created. My son grew inside my body, as all babies do with their Mommy. It’s an indescribably astounding feat. Where his heart was formed and its first beat pulsed. He called me “Mommy” in those first few years. I felt my own heart grow a thousand times bigger as I held him in my arms. And now, with my world separated into two, he’s showing me the magic of this one word. “Mommy” not only gives life; Mommy protects, nurtures, and loves so fiercely… Eventually, she must let go. Her child ventures into the world–a world rife with obstacles, challenges, trials. Some will break us; some will shatter us completely. But I think that’s the key, to find our way back. He called me Mommy last night. And in all my years of writing and using words, I have never before looked at that word in the ways my son has shown me. I will always be forever grateful to be his Mommy. To know and realize that powerful love, totally and thoroughly indestructible–the driving force of the whole universe. That it never dies! That connection: heart to heart, soul to soul, continues for all eternity. This, I know, with every fiber of my being. My son has proven that to me. A million times over, he’s proven that to me.