Remembering What Was Never Truly Forgotten | A reflection on inner awakening, the shedding of old beliefs, and the hum of crystalline truth.

A Stirring Beneath the Surface

A few days ago, I came across an article about a discovery beneath the sands of Giza—an underground structure, possibly ancient, possibly forgotten. As I read and looked at the images, I felt something stir within me—not just curiosity, but something deeper. A resonance. A remembering.

Later, I came across voices of skepticism, pointing out that the claims may have been misrepresented or exaggerated. And maybe they’re right. Maybe the story, in a literal sense, isn’t entirely true.

But what it sparked in me—that was real. And no fact-check can unring that bell.

A Discovery, A Question, A Feeling

Something about the images—the spiraling pillars, the chambers that seem to defy the stories we’ve been told—awakened something ancient inside me. Some are calling it an energy system, a cosmic communication portal, or even a lost piece of a global grid. Whether or not that’s true in the physical realm remains to be seen. But what I saw sparked not just wonder, but recognition.

Not in my thoughts, but in my bones. It wasn’t a question I asked. It was a memory surfacing.

And then came the question—the one that unraveled everything: If this is real, and if Jesus lived closer to the time of these civilizations, why didn’t he mention these structures? Why is there no reference—none—to this magnitude of knowledge? If these structures did serve a grander purpose than we ever imagined, how could such truths be absent from the stories we've built entire belief systems upon?

The Great Omission: Truth Buried Beneath Doctrine

I sat with this for a long time. And what came forward was sobering.

If such knowledge—of energy, resonance, alignment with the cosmos—did exist, and if spiritual figures or institutions never acknowledged it, then we must consider two possibilities:

1. They didn’t know.

2. Or they didn’t want us to know.

Either way, the silence is revealing.

Because if the truth of who we are and what we’re capable of was buried—intentionally or accidentally—then what does that say about the structures we now call "truth"?

What does that say about the stories we’ve been fed? What does that mean for us now, standing here at the edge of remembering?

Suppressed or Forgotten? The Answer Might Be Both

I believe now that this knowledge wasn’t just lost. It was both suppressed and forgotten.

Somewhere along the way, power became more important than truth. Empires rose. Institutions formed. And centralized control required an ignorant population—one that could be fed narratives, not gnosis.

But forgetting also came slowly. Generationally. People passed on what they could, but without language, access, or freedom to express it. And over time, the flame dimmed. Yet something in us carried it.

In dreams.

In symbols.

In resonance.

In the way we stare at the stars and feel homesick for a place we don’t remember living.

The Cosmic Unfolding: A New Way of Knowing

And now, as the veils begin to thin, this remembering isn’t arriving like a headline. It’s arriving as a frequency. A feeling. A knowing that can’t quite be explained with words.

It’s not the mind that’s waking up—it’s the soul. And the soul doesn’t analyze. It recognizes.

We are not here to chase proof or cling to old narratives. We are here to allow the truth to unfold, as it once did, in the ancient ways.

The ancients didn’t force knowledge. They watched. They listened. They aligned. Their knowing came through observation, energy, silence, and awe. And perhaps now, we are being called back to that way of being—not to reconstruct their world, but to reawaken the truth that still lives in us.

The Transformation of Self: A Shift in Identity

I used to think this journey was about me—my truth, my questions, my awakening. But lately, I’ve realized something so much bigger:

The “I” is not mine alone. The “I” is all of us.

This isn’t a personal remembering. It’s a collective one.

We were never meant to walk this Earth as isolated beings, chasing success and approval within a disconnected system. We were meant to understand our place in a vast, intelligent cosmos. We were meant to know that divinity pulses through us, that energy is not something outside of us—it is us.

This awakening doesn’t call for dogma or conversion.

It calls for resonance.

For being.

For remembering.

A Song That Waited for Its Time

Some lyrics came through me a while ago—before I fully understood what they meant. It wasn’t something I set out to write—it came softly and suddenly, like a memory surfacing from somewhere beyond thought. I held it quietly, not out of fear, but because a gentle voice within whispered, “Not yet.”

Now I understand why.

With this recent ripple through the collective—whether literal or symbolic—I felt something inside me shift. The veil lifted just enough to know: this was the moment I had been waiting for.

This song, The I Is All of Us, carries the essence of what I could never quite explain until now. It’s not just a melody—it’s a remembering. A vibration for those who have felt, in quiet moments, that they’ve always known something ancient… even if they didn’t have the words.

If that’s you—this song was meant to find you. And maybe it’s time now, for all of us, to remember together.🎧

Let the Seed Be Planted

This post isn’t a conclusion—it’s an invitation.

To reflect.

To remember.

To question—not to cause division, but to reawaken a sense of awe.

Because maybe, just maybe, the knowledge isn’t gone. Maybe it lives in stone and starlight. In our dreams and DNA.

And maybe all it takes to remember…is someone daring enough to feel it again.

If this stirred something in you, then you’re not alone. And you were never meant to be.

🜃

“You do not need to remember everything. You only need to remember that you already know.”—Unknown

If you’ve made it to the end—thank you. I wrote this not as a declaration, but as a sacred offering. An inner unfolding.

If any part of it echoed something within you, I invite you to hold that gently. To stay curious. And most of all, to trust the truth that doesn’t need proving—only remembering.

You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever.

🜃