HONEST, VULNERABLE ME. A STATEMENT FOR YOU. — The Female Grail with Durga Holzhauser

HONEST, VULNERABLE ME.
A STATEMENT FOR YOU.

My dear. I still fear disappointing you. Stay with me.

Close to the heartbeat of Zeitgeist, we break through the machinery of production. Many stars cracked open already, and we have decided to rise beyond convention. We need to stay with our values to create the essence of something new. We have to stop producing and start creating.

Moreover, I refuse to create for the sake of pleasing. When we pretend we will lose every time. I will stay tight, lean, focused. The aliveness hurts so good.

I will never resign my seemingly-paradoxical work of marrying Jesus the Book & The Series with business life. I can never bridge the paradox of being an addicted specialist – a mystic visionary – and being fractured by the hustle of online business.

I work from heaven down to earth. Following the circle of creation is a bold choice not to please for pleasure. I still do not believe in broadcasting mechanically, only with trustworthiness and reliability.

Come out when you are ready.
Be unpersuasive and vulnerable.
Keep the space open.

Our book proposal is now our love proposal for this world. After month of sweet holy asceticism, I am home and it’s completed. Jesus The Book & The Series’ #bookplan left me with bliss. I was writing daily, guided by Your Big Beautiful Book Plan a la Linda Sivertsen and Danielle LaPorte.

In the span on one month I have passed through each circle of devoted inspiration, humility, avidity, mastery and disillusion. My head is still a vacant place. My spirit is open, filled with a new space of creation. I have never felt so good. I am a #desire map.

Try it. Dedicate yourself to one thing for one month. Celebrate liberation.

Writing down my vulnerability
(finally, a foreword for the books)

Forword for Jesus The Book

There is a chapter of love where the ink never dries.
- STING, The Book Of My Life

I do not believe in you, Jesus,” was my first reaction when he appeared to me in a splash of light at the age of 24. I had turned into a non-believer after many heartbreaking disappointments in the church’s fraud and dogma. My spirit was revolting for freedom and aliveness. But he had already turned my life upside down. Twenty years later I hear myself saying: “I remember precisely my first encounter with him…” It was the beginning of my story of walking with Jesus 2,000 years ago.

When everything – or the truth of how it really was – is lost, someone has to walk through time and space to remember the real story. As Jesus once did, I am here to start a revolution.

I was born with a rebellious head and a raw heart that stores the memories of thousands of years. For years my favorite fairy tale was the Children’s Bible my Great-Grandmother used to read me, holding the fire of her own images. I was there. I longed to know what it felt like to “be live on” the times of Jesus and feel how he really was.

I was raised Catholic but I rebelled from religious education at 14 when it slipped out of my mouth: “Mary was everything, but no Virgin.”

Filled with pride, my wild hot truth was saturated. My music teacher found me silently sitting in the church. Alone. She asked me: “What are you doing here?” I told her, “When the noisy thoughts of the people are gone, I can hear him talking.” I was 15.

Saints are for the church. But we are on the trail for an intimate and vivid relationship with Jesus Christ. He was a feminist, a revolutionary against the establishment and fraudulent political order, and an inspired spiritual activist. He was love and when one was on his radar it was impossible to resist his charm. His presence transformed us all.

This book had to be written. I was privileged to be the first person on this planet to read it. But before all that, I had to follow my own prophecy and re-meet Agni, the man I was married to by Jesus himself. He is my master and reminded me of all I know. He believed I could read the Akasha and threw me in the deep end. I was re-reading my own sacred chronicles.

You have to trust me. If you do, I can take you with me into my vulnerable story. I had to walk the unbelievable. I deliver the miracles I have lived. When I opened the first chapter I was reading the intimate and still new. Reading my story from the Akasha unshackled my memory. I desired it: the tastes, the textures and the moods. Now I remember it all. How it was.

Jesus The Book is my personal memories of Jesus’ real stories. Let me lend you my senses and feelings to read and watch Jesus The Book in 3D. Experience Jesus close up as never before. This book is my personal heart’s treasure. My prayers are out: May your personal Jesus rise.

And more…

Forword for Jesus the forgotten Years

In the silence she appears through the dark blue mists. Close up to her face. She is peaceful and serious. Unaffected she walks. Her eyes are lowered in prayers. The camera pans out a wider view. More than two hundreds people walk down the steeped hill. Their faces are frozen, some cry, some utter their benediction. The camera is still with her. She comes nearer a dark knight: She searches his eyes enquiring, but he stares into the pyres burning and waiting. His face is marked with disgust. She stops in front of him and before he can prevail she falls on to her knees before him. Her people’s voice rises to praise the Lord. The roar of the lion was heard trough their tender light of purity when she murmured: “I forgive you, my worst enemy,“ before she ascended the fire herself.

When I opened the first page in the Akasha to read the sequel to Jesus The Book, I froze. I found myself in the year 1244 in South France during the final days of the Cathars. The popularity of their teaching was a thorn in the flesh of the church and the King of France. A dark crusade moved out to literally extinguish the roots of the pure believers. The last surviving Cathars fled the blood-letting to Montsegur where they finally were burnt after starving and refusing to renounce their faith. Mysteries were woven about their manuscripts and treasures, which were never found.

Dan Brown often mentions that the Cathars preserved the secret of the marriage of Jesus to Mary Magdalene.

Landing in the thick of this darkness shackled my emotions and cut my voice. For three months I refused to go back to the readings, from which our books are first recorded. I lacked not forgiveness but understanding. My beloved and heartfelt truth was reviled in those days and the life roots I planted in those soils was to be extinguished. I had to feel the hate leveled against me. I desired and suffered from my core, reliving this life in South France.

Death and suffering are woven into the very heart of this Universe. Dying as an act of living service to a greater community is an act of passion. The power to refuse to pass on suffering is our legacy from Jesus himself. We have to make big decisions. Today.

In spite of the wave of doubt in my heart I heard my name. I needed to know that this book would glue together the forgotten sacred history without letting it fall apart once again. That it would offer connection and comfort to our entrusted reader. We have the power of participation in this life on earth. Each of us has the power to make difference. The day I decided to “walk the pain” was the day I went back to our readings.

Even so, feeling alone is a suffering stigma on our immaculate heart. It teaches me to cross the boundaries and break the walls of my loss. Each page I was reading from heaven down to earth shredded my heart. I took the risk. I chose aliveness.

From 1244 in the last days of the Cathars, the legacy of Jesus The Forgotten Years was to build the bridge in a fading world of desperation. The teachings of Jesus and his God are still blooming in secret lands hidden away from the church. I read for the need of healing.

I walked through my memories of Mary Magdalene and me left alone in this land after Jesus’ crucifixion. We had to fight with a normal life, facing problems that women have still today. Mary Magdalene was pregnant. Jesus had survived and traveled to India. Mary Magdalene had to walk through her sadness. As women do for each other, I walked with her. Other women of the sacred circles came to join us. We supported each other there, trying to remember how to raise the light in a desperate world.

I had to walk this book. We have to stop to reserving our stories for special occasions. We rob others’ grace when hiding the art of pain. Big visions grow at the edges. When we stop wanting it all, it all begins. Love takes shape in the wild silence of destructive beauty.

One real reader is enough to affirm why you do what you do. Thank you Althea Treakle-Provost for offering me salvation when you posted this on Facebook:

“I grow tired of reading books the repeat the saga between the light and dark, and how the light must yield so the darkness may continue its power play. Even a short sentence that hints of such saga is enough for me to close the book and offer the symbolic yawn.

Today, I began to read your book on a Nook, a gift from Tim. Double blessings. Aleka, my daughter back from Costa Rica came into room, crawled into bed and unbeknownst to me was silently reading along. The page, just so happened to read in Oneness. Aleka offered her heart felt agreement. My heart felt the full measure of your words, as they mirror the depth within my heart. Thank you. A gift indeed.”

We have to trust each other. I need to be honest with you.

Wild love

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