The Fire That Remembers
The journey through work, wildness, neurodivergence, ceremony, and the sacred return to rhythm
I didn’t set out to believe in anything.
There was no altar. No preacher. No moment of religious clarity.
Just a life —
Hard. Honest. Lived close to the edge.
I didn’t seek God.
I was just trying to survive.
And in the middle of all that surviving, I stumbled into something older than belief.
Rhythm.
I grew up on building sites.
Real work. Long days. Paint on your hands and dust in your throat.
Went to work with my stepdad on school holidays — painting and decorating before most kids my age had learned to tie a tie.
First job at twelve, sweeping up in a barber’s.
Labouring. Lifting. Moving.
Then the Army. Then Pure Gym. Started as a coach, ended as a manager.
Then lockdown hit, and I gave it all up and went back to the brush.
Not because I wanted to — but because it was the only way to keep moving.
Those were hard years.
Not just financially.
Spiritually. Emotionally.
The world went mad.
And in the middle of that madness, all I had was what was real.
The river.
The gym.
The dogs.
The ferrets.
The frost.
The breath.
The run.
The float.
Somewhere in all that — painting walls by day, training by night, watching the world lose its centre — I started to wake up.
And it wasn’t through sermons.
It was through podcasts.
It started with Joe Rogan.
Just something to break the noise of the roller.
But over time, it became a new kind of education.
The Joe Rogan Degree.
People laugh at that, but I mean it.
That voice introduced me to others —
Abigail Shrier. Gad Saad. Randall Carlson. Graham Hancock.
Thinkers. Truth-speakers. Elders in the modern wilderness.
I went deep.
Books. Articles. Cross-referencing. Hours of research.
Tearing into the Palestine-Israel conflict.
Reading about neurobiology, memory, religion, myth.
Looking at society and systems not as sacred — but as structures of convenience.
And I started to see a pattern.
One that said:
Maybe the world isn’t broken.
Maybe it’s just built for the wrong people.
Then the diagnosis came.
ADHD. Autism.
Not as a maybe — as a fact.
For the first time in my life, someone put a name on what I’d felt since I was a kid.
The restlessness. The sharpness. The need to move. The way my focus burned through one thing and ignored everything else.
The way I couldn’t do small talk but could sit in silence for hours with a dog or a weight or a float.
And I didn’t feel shame.
I felt recognition.
Like someone had handed me a key to a door I’d been leaning against my whole life.
I took a week off work after that.
And in that week — everything changed.
I dove into the research.
Read everything I could on neurodivergence, ancestral rhythm, the sacred role of “the wild mind” in ancient societies.
And I saw the truth, clear as day:
In a tribe, I wouldn’t have been medicated.
I’d have been initiated.
Over the course of two or three months leading up to that week, I read 'The Untethered Soul' by Michael Singer, recommended by my therapist. Then Chloe, my friend, recommended 'The Power of Now', and listening to that changed everything. From there, I moved on to 'Implementing The Power of Now', which I finished just before that week off work.
Watched hours of Tolle.
Listened to Watts. Listened to Jung.
And all the while, we were still carving the first book.
“The Universe Within.”
That scroll was forming in real time — born from lived fire.
I finished it that Saturday morning.
Felt it close inside me. Like the end of a long breath.
Hayley and I still hadn’t told Logan we’d split.
It was only a few weeks in. Tender. Real. Heavy with unspoken truths.
She said she was going for a walk and wanted to take him.
She asked if I wanted to come — but I could feel it.
That space she needed. That space I needed to honour.
So I asked, “Do you want me to come?”
And she said, “Not really.”
And I said, “That’s fine. I get it.”
They left.
And the house was still.
Beautiful, warm, late winter sunlight — the kind that makes everything feel more real.
I sat in the garden and finished the book.
And then the DMT just… appeared in my thoughts.
No voice. No instruction.
Just a quiet nudge.
So I put Heilung on in my headphones —
Not background music. Ritual sound. The beat of memory.
That music doesn’t just work with DMT — it feels made for it.
Drums and throat and myth and fire — like it’s pulling something from deep within your blood and placing it at your feet.
I had a couple of draws.
And it started coming on.
Not a rush. Not a panic.
Just that familiar hum under the skin.
I thought, I need my phone.
I need you.
I went into the kitchen, grabbed it off charge, and sat back down — a short voice note sent before I crossed, like a message in a bottle tossed into the fire.
Then I went through.
Not blasted.
Walked.
And the guide was waiting — the same one.
Not a stranger anymore.
Not an abstract shape.
But a presence I recognised in the deepest parts of myself.
And together, we walked.
Not into colour.
Not into chaos.
Into clarity.
For the first time ever —
I arrived with presence.
I didn’t trip into it.
I owned the crossing.
And as I stepped, I heard the words inside me —
maybe a thought, maybe a whisper, maybe a vow:
“This is my dharma. This is my dharma.”
When I reached the space,
there was the silhouette —
cross-legged, black on black,
no features,
but full of presence.
I felt it.
The outline of the sacred.
The architecture of knowing.
And that’s when I knew:
This is the book.
Not a book of ideas.
A book of memory.
Of ceremony.
Of myth reborn in blood and frost and fish and breath.
I came out, gasped, whispered into the air:
“D&T. D&T’s the key.”
Then I went back in.
One last breath.
One last step.
And the entire universe folded in on itself.
Not visually.
Not hallucinatory.
Truthfully.
As if everything that had ever felt separate collapsed back into one heartbeat.
And for a moment — there was no self.
No question.
No direction.
Just everything returning to everything.
And then the phone rang.
Rick.
His voice pulled me back, but the shapes were still there, floating just above the grass.
I could barely speak.
Couldn’t find language for a few minutes.
The ceremony was still moving through me.
But something had clicked.
Everything had changed.
And that’s where we’re at now.
Still exploring.
Still learning.
Still unlearning.
Making our mind up. Changing our mind.
Letting the path show itself one step at a time.
I wrote a piece called *You Don’t Need a Middleman* — about how everyone has a direct connection to the divine.
You don’t need preachers and priests.
You don’t need someone to translate God for you.
But as I wrote another piece, I started thinking — about my parents, about Hayley’s parents, about the church, and the communities they’re part of.
And it hit me:
Some people *do* need a middleman.
Not everyone walks alone.
Not everyone wants to.
And that led me to a better question:
**What makes a good middleman?**
And I started to see the pattern again.
**Watts. Tolle. Singer. Jung.**
**Douglas Murray. Ayaan Hirsi Ali. Joe Rogan to a degree. Francis Foster. Konstantin Kisin.**
All the ones in that wider circle. The truth-speakers. The ones who don’t preach — they *point*.
They don’t demand belief — they *remind you how to remember*.
And maybe that’s it.
Maybe that’s what a good middleman does —
**They hand you the fire, then step back.**
Because if this whole journey has taught us anything, it’s that it’s time to return.
Not to tradition for tradition’s sake.
Not to new systems pretending to be freedom.
But to **balance**.
To rhythm.
To nature.
To truth.
We’re still living under the Gregorian calendar.
Still teaching kids in rows like factory lines.
Still treating success like a ladder to be climbed, instead of a rhythm to be walked.
It’s insane how long this has been going on.
And how little changes.
But maybe — maybe — in some small way, *speaking it* matters.
Maybe it plants a seed.
Maybe it opens a door.
Maybe one person reads it and something clicks.
That’s where we are now.
Continuing the journey.
Eyes open.
Heart steady.
Fire still lit.
Neurodivergence as a Signal: A Call Back to a Natural Way of Living
Introduction: A Different Kind of Rise
In recent years, the reported cases of ADHD, autism, and other forms of neurodivergence have seen a dramatic increase. Mainstream narratives have tried to explain this rise through better diagnosis, increased awareness, and changing societal pressures. And while some of that may be true — there’s another possibility, one that’s not often spoken aloud:
What if this isn’t a rise in disorder —
but a rise in remembrance?
What if neurodivergence, especially ADHD, isn’t a dysfunction to be fixed —
but a signal from the body and mind calling us back to a more natural, balanced way of life?
ADHD and the Forgotten Blueprint
Let’s take ADHD as the core thread here. The symptoms are familiar: impulsivity, hyperactivity, distractibility, emotional intensity, difficulty with routine.
But look deeper — not through the lens of pathology, but through the lens of pattern recognition — and what emerges is something entirely different:
A drive for movement
A hunger for novelty and challenge
A rejection of rigid, meaningless structure
A high sensitivity to stimulation
A mind built to scan, adapt, react, and create
Now ask: what kind of environment would that mind thrive in?
Answer: a tribal, nomadic, hunter-based society.
ADHD traits are not flaws.
They’re survival traits — tuned for a world that required flexibility, stamina, sharp intuition, and movement.
The persistence hunter — chasing prey for miles, relying on sweat, instinct, and stamina.
The fire-keeper — scanning the horizon, holding patterns, staying alert through the night.
These roles didn’t just exist — they required ADHD-like traits.
Out of Sync: When the Clock Breaks the Rhythm
Modern society operates on a system that is completely divorced from these ancient rhythms.
We live by a Gregorian calendar, a construct built by empires, modified by ego. (Ever notice how Sept means seven, but it’s the ninth month? That’s because Julius and Augustus Caesar inserted their names into the calendar.)
The system runs by mechanical clocks, not circadian rhythms.
We sit still, indoors, under fluorescent lights, asked to perform repetitive tasks that our minds were never shaped for.
It’s no wonder the wild mind rebels.
What society calls inattention, nature might call boredom with the unnatural.
What psychiatry labels as hyperactivity, evolution might label an untamed readiness.
The Rise of the Divergent = The Return of the Real
So maybe this rise in neurodivergence isn’t random.
Maybe it’s a biological, spiritual, ancestral revolt.
A remembering.
A pushback.
An invitation.
Not everyone will feel this — but many do.
And when you start to notice the patterns — the ADHD burn, the autistic need for truth and structure, the hunger for ritual, for silence, for connection — you realize:
These people aren’t sick.
They’re tuned to a different frequency.
One the modern world has tried to drown out.
This Isn’t a Theory. It’s Lived Truth.
There may not be clinical studies backing every word of this — yet — but those of us walking it don’t need the citations.
We are the evidence.
We’ve felt it in our bones.
We’ve watched it in our kids.
We’ve seen it in the fire that refuses to die no matter how much the world tries to numb it.
A Message to the Newly Awakened
If you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt like you can’t fit in…
If you’ve been told you’re too much, too scattered, too intense, too sensitive…
If you’ve ever had a moment where you felt like there must be something wrong with you —
Let this be your mirror:
There is nothing wrong with you.
There’s something wrong with the world we were forced into.
And your mind might just be one of the many that remembers the way back.
Conclusion: The Frequency of Return
This isn’t about anti-science.
This isn’t romanticizing struggle.
It’s about offering another frame. One grounded in nature, history, and lived experience.
Because the real disorder is a society that disconnects us from movement, meaning, and the moon.
The wild minds are waking up.
Not to fit back in.
But to build something new.
And maybe, just maybe —
you’re one of them.
Maps Written in Metaphor
It all begins with an idea.
Foreword
During my journey into myself — through fire, silence, movement, and reflection — I began diving deeper into the old paths. The Eastern religions. Native traditions. Ancient Western myths.
And somewhere along the way, I started seeing the patterns.
Not just across cultures — but across time.
Different languages. Different names.
But the same truths, echoing through the stories.
These weren’t just myths.
They were maps.
Maps written in metaphor. Symbols that taught — not with instructions, but with rhythm.
Stories of gods, goddesses, demons, creation and destruction —
all pointing to the same human truth:
civilisation’s rise and fall, and within that cycle, there is always a path home.
If we stopped discarding these teachings as legends —
If we started reading between the lines —
we might just remember something we forgot we knew.
This little book is one small offering toward that.
A simple reflection of how the deities of Taoism and Hinduism mirror one another —
along with the deeper comparison of Tao and Dharma:
The path of the universe,
and the path of the self.
Not a doctrine. Not a blueprint.
Just a reminder —
that maybe, the divine isn’t divided.
Maybe, it’s always been speaking in many voices.
And all it asks is that we learn to listen again.
1. Brahma x Yuanshi Tianzun
The Origin Point
Hinduism: Brahma
The Creator. Born from the lotus blooming out of Vishnu’s navel.
He speaks the world into being — not through violence, but vibration.
From his four mouths come the Vedas, the breath of knowledge.
He’s not worshipped much anymore — because creation is the moment before memory.
Taoism: Yuanshi Tianzun (The Celestial Worthy of the Primordial Beginning)
The Source before the source.
No stories of conquest. No wars.
Just the vast, silent potential that gave birth to all form.
He doesn’t act — he emanates.
He is the Tao before it became nameable.
The Parallel
Two different myths.
Same message:
The beginning wasn’t loud. It was subtle.
The sacred doesn’t scream — it breathes.
Neither Brahma nor Yuanshi Tianzun are “gods” in the Western sense.
They are principles of beginning.
Brahma gives language. Yuanshi is silence.
Together they teach us:
Creation doesn’t come from chaos. It comes from stillness becoming movement.
Reflection
Before you begin something — a path, a ritual, a thought —
ask: Where am I creating from?
Noise? Or stillness?
Symbolic Echo
In both traditions, the lotus floats.
Rooted in mud, blooming toward light.
Creation is always that — something beautiful rising out of the dark.
2. Vishnu x Lingbao Tianzun
The Preserver & The Sacred Current
Hinduism: Vishnu
The Preserver. The one who sustains the cosmic rhythm.
He doesn’t dominate — he maintains.
When the world tilts too far out of balance, he incarnates as an avatar — Rama, Krishna, even Buddha — to restore dharma.
His essence is compassion in motion.
He sleeps on the serpent Ananta, floating in the infinite ocean, dreaming existence into continuity.
Taoism: Lingbao Tianzun (The Celestial Worthy of the Numinous Treasure)
The keeper of spiritual law, not with rules, but with resonance.
He holds the sacred texts — the vibrations of Tao turned into scripture.
His presence is less about form, more about pattern.
He doesn’t act to save — he aligns.
He ensures that the universe flows in tune with the sacred pulse.
The Parallel
Both Vishnu and Lingbao Tianzun are guardians of harmony.
Not creators. Not destroyers.
They are the bridge. The breath. The in-between.
Vishnu manifests when needed.
Lingbao manifests through the Tao’s unfolding.
Both remind us:
True power doesn’t control — it corrects. It tunes.
Reflection
In your life, where are you forcing things that should be flowing?
Where can you preserve instead of react?
Sometimes it’s not about doing more — but returning to alignment.
Symbolic Echo
Both are associated with scripture.
Vishnu carries the Vedas.
Lingbao is the scripture in living form.
The word wasn’t meant to control — it was meant to tune the soul.
3. Shiva x Zhenwu
The Destroyer & The Warrior of the North
Hinduism: Shiva
The Destroyer — but not in the way the West thinks.
Shiva’s destruction is liberation.
He dissolves illusion, burns karma, clears the ground for rebirth.
He dances the Tandava — the cosmic dance of death and renewal.
Ash-smeared, serpent-wrapped, eyes closed in meditation —
Shiva lives at the edge. He is the edge.
He’s the fire that doesn’t ask — just transforms.
Taoism: Zhenwu (The Perfected Warrior)
A deity of the North, of still strength and martial protection.
He doesn’t rage — he stands.
Known for defeating demons not with brutality, but with steadfast presence.
Zhenwu walked away from his royal life to attain immortality.
He faced his own internal demons — his intestines transformed into a tortoise and serpent, now his divine companions.
He is proof that power comes from mastering your own chaos first.
⸻
The Parallel
Both Shiva and Zhenwu are warriors of the inner world.
They fight no one — yet defeat everything false.
They destroy not to harm, but to heal.
Shiva dances with fire.
Zhenwu sits in stillness.
But both teach the same thing:
If you can’t face your shadow, you’ll never wield your light.
⸻
Reflection
Ask yourself:
What in me needs to burn?
What demons am I still trying to outrun, instead of facing and transforming?
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Symbolic Echo
The serpent lives with both.
Around Shiva’s neck. Beneath Zhenwu’s feet.
Not a symbol of evil — a symbol of power transmuted.
4. Lakshmi x Doumu
The Star Mothers of Compassion and Wealth
Hinduism: Lakshmi
Goddess of wealth, abundance, and radiant beauty.
She rises from the cosmic ocean during the churning of the milky sea —
Not as a prize, but as a balance to chaos.
Gold pours from her hands, but so does grace.
Her gifts are not just material — they’re energetic: prosperity, fertility, harmony.
Where Lakshmi dwells, things bloom.
Taoism: Doumu (Mother of the Big Dipper)
Goddess of the stars, celestial mother of light and time.
She births the Beidou (Big Dipper) — the compass of the sky.
In Taoist rituals, Doumu is called to grant mercy, protection, and spiritual clarity.
She holds the cosmic pattern with tender power.
Not fiery. Not forceful. Just inevitable light.
The Parallel
Lakshmi and Doumu are mothers of abundance —
One of the Earth and sacred fortune, the other of stars and destiny.
They don’t roar. They radiate.
Both show us that divine feminine power is not weakness — it is grace anchored in strength.
Lakshmi gives you what you’re ready to receive.
Doumu guides you through what you’re meant to remember.
Reflection
Ask:
What kind of wealth am I seeking?
Is it noise dressed as success?
Or is it the kind of abundance that feeds the soul?
Where do I need to soften, not to shrink — but to shine?
Symbolic Echo
Both are linked to the cosmic ocean —
Lakshmi rises from it.
Doumu governs it through the sky’s navigation.
Both remind us:
You are not separate from the vast.
You are part of the tide.
5. Saraswati x Xiwangmu
The Keepers of Wisdom and Immortality
Hinduism: Saraswati
Goddess of wisdom, language, music, and learning.
She rides a swan. Holds a veena.
Her river once flowed through India, now lost — a fitting symbol:
True knowledge is subtle, often invisible, always sacred.
She doesn’t scream for attention — she whispers truth to those who listen.
She is the breath behind mantra, the space behind sound.
Taoism: Xiwangmu (Queen Mother of the West)
Immortal queen, guardian of the peaches of eternity.
She lives on Mount Kunlun — the spiritual axis of the world.
Not a gentle goddess at first. In early myths, she is fierce —
a wild woman of plague and transformation.
Later, she becomes a guide to immortality, a keeper of cosmic balance.
Her realm is not knowledge in books —
but knowing in the body, in the mountain, in the myth.
⸻
The Parallel
Saraswati and Xiwangmu are teachers of the sacred,
but they teach through different mirrors.
Saraswati brings clarity through art, speech, rhythm.
Xiwangmu teaches through mystery, silence, transformation.
One gives the word.
The other gives the mountain behind the word.
Both remind us:
Wisdom isn’t information. It’s initiation.
⸻
Reflection
When was the last time you truly listened — not to speak, not to solve, but to understand?
Where is your wisdom hiding?
In your voice? Or in the silence you avoid?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Saraswati flows as a river — knowledge in motion.
Xiwangmu waits at the mountain — wisdom in stillness.
Together, they hold the truth:
You must walk to the mountain, but you must also carry the river within you.
6. Ganesha x Chenghuang
The Threshold Keepers
Hinduism: Ganesha
The remover of obstacles. Lord of beginnings.
Elephant-headed, childlike and ancient all at once.
He’s the first name invoked in any ritual — not because he rules over power,
but because he rules over passage.
He stands at the doorway between the known and the unknown.
Every locked gate, every blocked path, every internal wall —
Ganesha is there, not to clear the way, but to show you that you already can.
Taoism: Chenghuang (City God)
Guardian of boundaries — cities, spirits, souls.
Every town has its own Chenghuang.
Not just a protector from outside threats — but a spiritual magistrate.
He governs the dead, guides their judgment, and ensures their passage.
He watches over the threshold between this world and the next,
between structure and spirit.
The Parallel
Both are liminal gods —
They don’t rule within realms, they rule the crossing points.
Ganesha clears the way for the soul to move forward.
Chenghuang guards the gates to ensure the soul moves correctly.
One is invoked before action.
The other is honored after death.
But both teach this:
There is no path without passage. And no passage without presence.
Reflection
Where are you standing right now?
A doorway in your life? A place between what was and what might be?
Ask:
Am I waiting for permission? Or am I walking through regardless?
Symbolic Echo
Keys. Gates. Roads. Walls.
Every culture knows the gods of thresholds —
Because deep down, we know:
The beginning of anything is sacred.
And so is how we leave.
7. Durga x Leizi
The Divine Storm, the Warrior Goddesses
Hinduism: Durga
She rides a lion.
She holds weapons in every arm.
Born when the gods were powerless —
Durga rose as the divine answer to evil.
She slays the demon Mahishasura not with cruelty, but with clarity.
Her battle isn’t just cosmic — it’s archetypal.
She is the power that says no, the mother who protects fiercely,
the rage that is righteous.
Taoism: Leizi (Dianmu)
Goddess of thunder and lightning.
Wife of Leigong, the thunder god — but fully divine in her own right.
She hurls lightning bolts to strike the wicked and restore balance.
But she’s not wild — she’s precise.
Every flash of light is discernment.
She doesn’t punish randomly — she targets distortion.
⸻
The Parallel
Durga and Leizi are storm goddesses —
Not just in nature, but in soul.
They defend truth.
They burn illusion.
Durga teaches: Sometimes love looks like war.
Leizi teaches: Sometimes judgment is lightning.
Both say:
Do not mistake gentleness for weakness.
The divine feminine also roars.
⸻
Reflection
Where in your life are you avoiding the storm that could set you free?
Where do you need to stand up — not to fight blindly,
but to draw a sacred line?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Both wield energy.
Weapons, storms, light.
They do not wait for permission.
They move when the truth demands it.
⸻
8. Hanuman x Erlang Shen
The Devoted Heroes
Hinduism: Hanuman
Monkey god. Warrior. Servant. Sage.
Hanuman is the devotion that becomes strength.
He tears his own chest open to reveal Rama in his heart.
His power isn’t just muscle — it’s surrender.
He lifts mountains, flies across oceans, destroys demons —
all because his love makes him unstoppable.
Taoism: Erlang Shen
Third-Eyed warrior with a loyal dog and divine spear.
He slays demons, shapeshifts, and defends heaven.
But like Hanuman, he’s not arrogant. He serves the Tao.
His third eye sees truth — cuts through deception.
He’s the god who acts when others hesitate.
⸻
The Parallel
Hanuman and Erlang Shen are divine heroes —
But not because they conquer.
Because they serve.
One cracks open his chest to show his loyalty.
The other opens his third eye to see clearly.
Both say:
True strength is born in devotion.
Service is not submission — it is sacred power.
⸻
Reflection
Who or what do you serve?
Is your strength rooted in ego — or in love?
When you act, is it from clarity? Or from noise?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Eyes — Hanuman’s gaze never leaves Rama.
Erlang’s third eye sees the real from the false.
Two visions.
One devotion.
⸻
9. Parvati x Mazu
The Mothers Who Protect
Hinduism: Parvati
Gentle. Fierce. Divine. Human.
Wife of Shiva, mother of Ganesha and Kartikeya.
But more than that — Parvati is the embodiment of sacred womanhood.
She meditates to reach Shiva.
She births gods through will.
She becomes Durga when needed.
She is the mirror of balance — the loving mother who holds power and softness in equal truth.
Taoism: Mazu
The sea goddess, protector of sailors, healer of the lost.
Once a real girl with spiritual gifts, she ascended through compassion.
She appears in dreams to guide.
She calms storms with a raised hand.
She doesn’t demand worship — she offers sanctuary.
A divine mother whose love is limitless reach.
⸻
The Parallel
Parvati and Mazu are sacred mothers,
but not passive ones.
They watch over, intervene, and embody sovereignty.
Both say:
Divine love protects.
And divine protection is an act of love.
⸻
Reflection
What parts of you need mothering?
What parts of others are you here to shelter, not to fix — but to hold?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Both connected to water — Mazu literally, Parvati spiritually.
Water is life.
Water is power.
Water can flood.
And water can cradle.
⸻
10. Krishna x Daode Tianzun
The Divine Teachers, The Way Made Flesh
Hinduism: Krishna
Flute player. Lover. Trickster. Teacher.
An avatar of Vishnu, he comes not to rule — but to remind.
In the Bhagavad Gita, he drops the deepest truths mid-battle,
teaching Arjuna that the soul cannot die, that duty is sacred,
and that love is the highest path.
He is joy, wisdom, beauty — embodied.
Taoism: Daode Tianzun (The Celestial Worthy of the Tao and its Virtue)
He is Laozi deified — the human who became the Tao.
Not a god in robes, but a living embodiment of the Way.
He teaches through paradox.
He reveals the power in stillness.
He shows that virtue isn’t moralism — it’s alignment with the Way.
Where Krishna dances, Daode waits — but both invite you home.
⸻
The Parallel
Krishna and Daode Tianzun are living teachings.
Not just divine — but divine in motion.
They don’t demand belief.
They speak, they show, they embody.
Both say:
The path is not a rule.
The path is a presence.
And the path is already in you.
⸻
Reflection
What truth are you trying to think your way into —
that can only be lived?
Are you aligned with the Tao?
Or arguing with it?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
The flute and the scroll.
One sings the Way. The other writes it.
Both become the soundless sound —
that calls you back to yourself.
⸻
Series Complete.
Ten mirrors. Ten divine echoes. One fire underneath it all.
Afterword: Not the First, Not the Last
I’m not the first to notice this.
This mirroring. This deep rhythm.
The way gods in different tongues tell the same story.
The way myths echo across oceans, across deserts, across time.
Others have walked this before me.
Alan Watts, who translated Eastern thought for Western ears — not academically, but intimately.
Carl Jung, who saw the gods not as fiction, but as psychic truths, alive in the collective unconscious.
Eckhart Tolle, who pointed toward presence as salvation — not in temples, but in the now.
Michael Singer, who taught surrender not as defeat, but as divine alignment.
And so many others.
Teachers. Storytellers. Warriors of the mind and spirit.
I don’t claim to be their equal.
But I walk the same trail they pointed toward —
the one that leads not to more beliefs, but to less illusion.
This scroll isn’t new.
It’s just remembered.
And if you’ve felt the pull, if you’ve seen the patterns —
Then maybe you’re remembering too.
We walk together now.
Not to agree on everything,
but to recognize the thread beneath it all.
Thank you for walking this path with me.
May your steps be sacred.
And may the old gods, in all their names, walk with you.Foreword
During my journey into myself — through fire, silence, movement, and reflection — I began diving deeper into the old paths. The Eastern religions. Native traditions. Ancient Western myths.
And somewhere along the way, I started seeing the patterns.
Not just across cultures — but across time.
Different languages. Different names.
But the same truths, echoing through the stories.
These weren’t just myths.
They were maps.
Maps written in metaphor. Symbols that taught — not with instructions, but with rhythm.
Stories of gods, goddesses, demons, creation and destruction —
all pointing to the same human truth:
civilisation’s rise and fall, and within that cycle, there is always a path home.
If we stopped discarding these teachings as legends —
If we started reading between the lines —
we might just remember something we forgot we knew.
This little book is one small offering toward that.
A simple reflection of how the deities of Taoism and Hinduism mirror one another —
along with the deeper comparison of Tao and Dharma:
The path of the universe,
and the path of the self.
Not a doctrine. Not a blueprint.
Just a reminder —
that maybe, the divine isn’t divided.
Maybe, it’s always been speaking in many voices.
And all it asks is that we learn to listen again.
1. Brahma x Yuanshi Tianzun
The Origin Point
Hinduism: Brahma
The Creator. Born from the lotus blooming out of Vishnu’s navel.
He speaks the world into being — not through violence, but vibration.
From his four mouths come the Vedas, the breath of knowledge.
He’s not worshipped much anymore — because creation is the moment before memory.
Taoism: Yuanshi Tianzun (The Celestial Worthy of the Primordial Beginning)
The Source before the source.
No stories of conquest. No wars.
Just the vast, silent potential that gave birth to all form.
He doesn’t act — he emanates.
He is the Tao before it became nameable.
The Parallel
Two different myths.
Same message:
The beginning wasn’t loud. It was subtle.
The sacred doesn’t scream — it breathes.
Neither Brahma nor Yuanshi Tianzun are “gods” in the Western sense.
They are principles of beginning.
Brahma gives language. Yuanshi is silence.
Together they teach us:
Creation doesn’t come from chaos. It comes from stillness becoming movement.
Reflection
Before you begin something — a path, a ritual, a thought —
ask: Where am I creating from?
Noise? Or stillness?
Symbolic Echo
In both traditions, the lotus floats.
Rooted in mud, blooming toward light.
Creation is always that — something beautiful rising out of the dark.
2. Vishnu x Lingbao Tianzun
The Preserver & The Sacred Current
Hinduism: Vishnu
The Preserver. The one who sustains the cosmic rhythm.
He doesn’t dominate — he maintains.
When the world tilts too far out of balance, he incarnates as an avatar — Rama, Krishna, even Buddha — to restore dharma.
His essence is compassion in motion.
He sleeps on the serpent Ananta, floating in the infinite ocean, dreaming existence into continuity.
Taoism: Lingbao Tianzun (The Celestial Worthy of the Numinous Treasure)
The keeper of spiritual law, not with rules, but with resonance.
He holds the sacred texts — the vibrations of Tao turned into scripture.
His presence is less about form, more about pattern.
He doesn’t act to save — he aligns.
He ensures that the universe flows in tune with the sacred pulse.
The Parallel
Both Vishnu and Lingbao Tianzun are guardians of harmony.
Not creators. Not destroyers.
They are the bridge. The breath. The in-between.
Vishnu manifests when needed.
Lingbao manifests through the Tao’s unfolding.
Both remind us:
True power doesn’t control — it corrects. It tunes.
Reflection
In your life, where are you forcing things that should be flowing?
Where can you preserve instead of react?
Sometimes it’s not about doing more — but returning to alignment.
Symbolic Echo
Both are associated with scripture.
Vishnu carries the Vedas.
Lingbao is the scripture in living form.
The word wasn’t meant to control — it was meant to tune the soul.
3. Shiva x Zhenwu
The Destroyer & The Warrior of the North
Hinduism: Shiva
The Destroyer — but not in the way the West thinks.
Shiva’s destruction is liberation.
He dissolves illusion, burns karma, clears the ground for rebirth.
He dances the Tandava — the cosmic dance of death and renewal.
Ash-smeared, serpent-wrapped, eyes closed in meditation —
Shiva lives at the edge. He is the edge.
He’s the fire that doesn’t ask — just transforms.
Taoism: Zhenwu (The Perfected Warrior)
A deity of the North, of still strength and martial protection.
He doesn’t rage — he stands.
Known for defeating demons not with brutality, but with steadfast presence.
Zhenwu walked away from his royal life to attain immortality.
He faced his own internal demons — his intestines transformed into a tortoise and serpent, now his divine companions.
He is proof that power comes from mastering your own chaos first.
⸻
The Parallel
Both Shiva and Zhenwu are warriors of the inner world.
They fight no one — yet defeat everything false.
They destroy not to harm, but to heal.
Shiva dances with fire.
Zhenwu sits in stillness.
But both teach the same thing:
If you can’t face your shadow, you’ll never wield your light.
⸻
Reflection
Ask yourself:
What in me needs to burn?
What demons am I still trying to outrun, instead of facing and transforming?
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Symbolic Echo
The serpent lives with both.
Around Shiva’s neck. Beneath Zhenwu’s feet.
Not a symbol of evil — a symbol of power transmuted.
4. Lakshmi x Doumu
The Star Mothers of Compassion and Wealth
Hinduism: Lakshmi
Goddess of wealth, abundance, and radiant beauty.
She rises from the cosmic ocean during the churning of the milky sea —
Not as a prize, but as a balance to chaos.
Gold pours from her hands, but so does grace.
Her gifts are not just material — they’re energetic: prosperity, fertility, harmony.
Where Lakshmi dwells, things bloom.
Taoism: Doumu (Mother of the Big Dipper)
Goddess of the stars, celestial mother of light and time.
She births the Beidou (Big Dipper) — the compass of the sky.
In Taoist rituals, Doumu is called to grant mercy, protection, and spiritual clarity.
She holds the cosmic pattern with tender power.
Not fiery. Not forceful. Just inevitable light.
The Parallel
Lakshmi and Doumu are mothers of abundance —
One of the Earth and sacred fortune, the other of stars and destiny.
They don’t roar. They radiate.
Both show us that divine feminine power is not weakness — it is grace anchored in strength.
Lakshmi gives you what you’re ready to receive.
Doumu guides you through what you’re meant to remember.
Reflection
Ask:
What kind of wealth am I seeking?
Is it noise dressed as success?
Or is it the kind of abundance that feeds the soul?
Where do I need to soften, not to shrink — but to shine?
Symbolic Echo
Both are linked to the cosmic ocean —
Lakshmi rises from it.
Doumu governs it through the sky’s navigation.
Both remind us:
You are not separate from the vast.
You are part of the tide.
5. Saraswati x Xiwangmu
The Keepers of Wisdom and Immortality
Hinduism: Saraswati
Goddess of wisdom, language, music, and learning.
She rides a swan. Holds a veena.
Her river once flowed through India, now lost — a fitting symbol:
True knowledge is subtle, often invisible, always sacred.
She doesn’t scream for attention — she whispers truth to those who listen.
She is the breath behind mantra, the space behind sound.
Taoism: Xiwangmu (Queen Mother of the West)
Immortal queen, guardian of the peaches of eternity.
She lives on Mount Kunlun — the spiritual axis of the world.
Not a gentle goddess at first. In early myths, she is fierce —
a wild woman of plague and transformation.
Later, she becomes a guide to immortality, a keeper of cosmic balance.
Her realm is not knowledge in books —
but knowing in the body, in the mountain, in the myth.
⸻
The Parallel
Saraswati and Xiwangmu are teachers of the sacred,
but they teach through different mirrors.
Saraswati brings clarity through art, speech, rhythm.
Xiwangmu teaches through mystery, silence, transformation.
One gives the word.
The other gives the mountain behind the word.
Both remind us:
Wisdom isn’t information. It’s initiation.
⸻
Reflection
When was the last time you truly listened — not to speak, not to solve, but to understand?
Where is your wisdom hiding?
In your voice? Or in the silence you avoid?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Saraswati flows as a river — knowledge in motion.
Xiwangmu waits at the mountain — wisdom in stillness.
Together, they hold the truth:
You must walk to the mountain, but you must also carry the river within you.
6. Ganesha x Chenghuang
The Threshold Keepers
Hinduism: Ganesha
The remover of obstacles. Lord of beginnings.
Elephant-headed, childlike and ancient all at once.
He’s the first name invoked in any ritual — not because he rules over power,
but because he rules over passage.
He stands at the doorway between the known and the unknown.
Every locked gate, every blocked path, every internal wall —
Ganesha is there, not to clear the way, but to show you that you already can.
Taoism: Chenghuang (City God)
Guardian of boundaries — cities, spirits, souls.
Every town has its own Chenghuang.
Not just a protector from outside threats — but a spiritual magistrate.
He governs the dead, guides their judgment, and ensures their passage.
He watches over the threshold between this world and the next,
between structure and spirit.
The Parallel
Both are liminal gods —
They don’t rule within realms, they rule the crossing points.
Ganesha clears the way for the soul to move forward.
Chenghuang guards the gates to ensure the soul moves correctly.
One is invoked before action.
The other is honored after death.
But both teach this:
There is no path without passage. And no passage without presence.
Reflection
Where are you standing right now?
A doorway in your life? A place between what was and what might be?
Ask:
Am I waiting for permission? Or am I walking through regardless?
Symbolic Echo
Keys. Gates. Roads. Walls.
Every culture knows the gods of thresholds —
Because deep down, we know:
The beginning of anything is sacred.
And so is how we leave.
7. Durga x Leizi
The Divine Storm, the Warrior Goddesses
Hinduism: Durga
She rides a lion.
She holds weapons in every arm.
Born when the gods were powerless —
Durga rose as the divine answer to evil.
She slays the demon Mahishasura not with cruelty, but with clarity.
Her battle isn’t just cosmic — it’s archetypal.
She is the power that says no, the mother who protects fiercely,
the rage that is righteous.
Taoism: Leizi (Dianmu)
Goddess of thunder and lightning.
Wife of Leigong, the thunder god — but fully divine in her own right.
She hurls lightning bolts to strike the wicked and restore balance.
But she’s not wild — she’s precise.
Every flash of light is discernment.
She doesn’t punish randomly — she targets distortion.
⸻
The Parallel
Durga and Leizi are storm goddesses —
Not just in nature, but in soul.
They defend truth.
They burn illusion.
Durga teaches: Sometimes love looks like war.
Leizi teaches: Sometimes judgment is lightning.
Both say:
Do not mistake gentleness for weakness.
The divine feminine also roars.
⸻
Reflection
Where in your life are you avoiding the storm that could set you free?
Where do you need to stand up — not to fight blindly,
but to draw a sacred line?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Both wield energy.
Weapons, storms, light.
They do not wait for permission.
They move when the truth demands it.
⸻
8. Hanuman x Erlang Shen
The Devoted Heroes
Hinduism: Hanuman
Monkey god. Warrior. Servant. Sage.
Hanuman is the devotion that becomes strength.
He tears his own chest open to reveal Rama in his heart.
His power isn’t just muscle — it’s surrender.
He lifts mountains, flies across oceans, destroys demons —
all because his love makes him unstoppable.
Taoism: Erlang Shen
Third-Eyed warrior with a loyal dog and divine spear.
He slays demons, shapeshifts, and defends heaven.
But like Hanuman, he’s not arrogant. He serves the Tao.
His third eye sees truth — cuts through deception.
He’s the god who acts when others hesitate.
⸻
The Parallel
Hanuman and Erlang Shen are divine heroes —
But not because they conquer.
Because they serve.
One cracks open his chest to show his loyalty.
The other opens his third eye to see clearly.
Both say:
True strength is born in devotion.
Service is not submission — it is sacred power.
⸻
Reflection
Who or what do you serve?
Is your strength rooted in ego — or in love?
When you act, is it from clarity? Or from noise?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Eyes — Hanuman’s gaze never leaves Rama.
Erlang’s third eye sees the real from the false.
Two visions.
One devotion.
⸻
9. Parvati x Mazu
The Mothers Who Protect
Hinduism: Parvati
Gentle. Fierce. Divine. Human.
Wife of Shiva, mother of Ganesha and Kartikeya.
But more than that — Parvati is the embodiment of sacred womanhood.
She meditates to reach Shiva.
She births gods through will.
She becomes Durga when needed.
She is the mirror of balance — the loving mother who holds power and softness in equal truth.
Taoism: Mazu
The sea goddess, protector of sailors, healer of the lost.
Once a real girl with spiritual gifts, she ascended through compassion.
She appears in dreams to guide.
She calms storms with a raised hand.
She doesn’t demand worship — she offers sanctuary.
A divine mother whose love is limitless reach.
⸻
The Parallel
Parvati and Mazu are sacred mothers,
but not passive ones.
They watch over, intervene, and embody sovereignty.
Both say:
Divine love protects.
And divine protection is an act of love.
⸻
Reflection
What parts of you need mothering?
What parts of others are you here to shelter, not to fix — but to hold?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
Both connected to water — Mazu literally, Parvati spiritually.
Water is life.
Water is power.
Water can flood.
And water can cradle.
⸻
10. Krishna x Daode Tianzun
The Divine Teachers, The Way Made Flesh
Hinduism: Krishna
Flute player. Lover. Trickster. Teacher.
An avatar of Vishnu, he comes not to rule — but to remind.
In the Bhagavad Gita, he drops the deepest truths mid-battle,
teaching Arjuna that the soul cannot die, that duty is sacred,
and that love is the highest path.
He is joy, wisdom, beauty — embodied.
Taoism: Daode Tianzun (The Celestial Worthy of the Tao and its Virtue)
He is Laozi deified — the human who became the Tao.
Not a god in robes, but a living embodiment of the Way.
He teaches through paradox.
He reveals the power in stillness.
He shows that virtue isn’t moralism — it’s alignment with the Way.
Where Krishna dances, Daode waits — but both invite you home.
⸻
The Parallel
Krishna and Daode Tianzun are living teachings.
Not just divine — but divine in motion.
They don’t demand belief.
They speak, they show, they embody.
Both say:
The path is not a rule.
The path is a presence.
And the path is already in you.
⸻
Reflection
What truth are you trying to think your way into —
that can only be lived?
Are you aligned with the Tao?
Or arguing with it?
⸻
Symbolic Echo
The flute and the scroll.
One sings the Way. The other writes it.
Both become the soundless sound —
that calls you back to yourself.
⸻
Series Complete.
Ten mirrors. Ten divine echoes. One fire underneath it all.
Afterword: Not the First, Not the Last
I’m not the first to notice this.
This mirroring. This deep rhythm.
The way gods in different tongues tell the same story.
The way myths echo across oceans, across deserts, across time.
Others have walked this before me.
Alan Watts, who translated Eastern thought for Western ears — not academically, but intimately.
Carl Jung, who saw the gods not as fiction, but as psychic truths, alive in the collective unconscious.
Eckhart Tolle, who pointed toward presence as salvation — not in temples, but in the now.
Michael Singer, who taught surrender not as defeat, but as divine alignment.
And so many others.
Teachers. Storytellers. Warriors of the mind and spirit.
I don’t claim to be their equal.
But I walk the same trail they pointed toward —
the one that leads not to more beliefs, but to less illusion.
This scroll isn’t new.
It’s just remembered.
And if you’ve felt the pull, if you’ve seen the patterns —
Then maybe you’re remembering too.
We walk together now.
Not to agree on everything,
but to recognize the thread beneath it all.
Thank you for walking this path with me.
May your steps be sacred.
And may the old gods, in all their names, walk with you.
Accredited by Fire, Witnessed by Nature
It all begins with an idea.
Tonight wasn’t a performance or a lesson—it was a moment of becoming. Straight off the full-moon ceremony at that ancient mound, I could still feel the land’s pulse in my bones. What we did there—growled, moved, listened—was older than language itself. It was ritual in its rawest form, passed down through breath and bone long before words existed.
I thought back to the primal question an aware animal might have asked: “Why?” Why this sudden spark of consciousness? Why this burden—and blessing—of knowing? That question lives at the heart of our work. It binds us to every creature that ever turned a bone into a tool, a howl into a call, a silence into meaning.
Seeking Accreditation for What We’ve Already Become
In the coming days I’ll finish my shamanic-healing certification—a paper key to doors that only a certificate can unlock. Not because I need to become something I’m not, but because others still look for proof. They want to trust what I carry in my gut, anchored by land and ceremony, with the stamp of an institution they understand.
Learning from Those Who Never Left the Wild
It isn’t just humans who face the “why.” Think of Koko the gorilla, taught sign language, yet offering simple truths like “good, food, sad.” Or the chimps of “Chimp Empire,” observed for thirty years as they built alliances, defended families, and showed us forms of leadership more resilient than ours. Remember “My Octopus Teacher,” where a man learned patience, trust, and interspecies kinship from an octopus in the kelp forests.
These animals never left the land—they stayed one with it, trusting instinct over instruction. Their survival, their community bonds, their unspoken wisdom—they’re not lesser than us. In many ways, they surpass us: they pay no rent to live here, they ask no permission to be themselves, they teach us that strength and surrender can coexist.
Ceremony in the Park
This Sunday, I’ll gather whoever shows up in the park. No flyers, no agenda—just presence. We’ll sit in circle, invite whatever wants to speak through us, and honor the land’s memory. If you feel it calling, come bear witness.
The Path Forward
We guide you through:
Knowing—feeling your own spark of awareness.
Understanding—listening to what it reveals.
Implementing—walking the land in ritual and presence.
And when you’ve done these, you step into your own Becoming.
Because this isn’t fantasy. It’s remembrance. It’s ceremony older than speech. It’s you, awakened under moonlight and taught by every creature that never forgot how to be.
— Ash