Woman

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She wrote that women’s souls could speak directly to God without priests so the Church burned her alive for heresy.

Published January 10, 2026 by tindertender

She wrote that women’s souls could speak directly to God without priests—so the Church burned her alive for heresy.

Paris, June 1, 1310.

In the Place de Grève, a woman was led to the stake. Marguerite Porete, accused of heresy, had spent over a year imprisoned, refusing to answer the Inquisition’s questions or defend herself before judges she didn’t recognize as having authority over her soul. Witnesses later described her calm demeanor—no screaming, no begging for mercy, no recantation. She faced the flames with a serenity that unnerved her executioners.

She died for writing a book that claimed a soul could unite so completely with divine love that it transcended the need for Church hierarchy, sacraments, or ecclesiastical mediation. The Church couldn’t tolerate that claim—especially from a woman.

Marguerite Porete was born in the late 13th century in Hainaut (modern-day France/Belgium border region). Little is known about her early life, but she became part of the Beguine movement—communities of lay religious women who lived together in prayer and work without taking formal monastic vows.

Beguines occupied a complicated space in medieval Christianity. They weren’t nuns bound by convent rules, but they weren’t ordinary laywomen either. They lived religious lives outside institutional Church control—which made Church authorities nervous.

Marguerite was educated, literate, and theologically sophisticated—unusual for a woman of her time.

Sometime in the late 13th century, she wrote “The Mirror of Simple Souls” (Le Mirouer des simples âmes) in vernacular Old French rather than Latin.

Writing theology in the vernacular was itself significant. Latin was the language of Church authority—using French made theology accessible to ordinary people, particularly women who hadn’t learned Latin.

But it was the book’s content that proved dangerous.

The Mirror of Simple Souls describes a mystical journey where the soul progressively lets go of attachments, ego, and even virtues until it reaches “annihilation”—complete dissolution into divine love. This “annihilated soul” becomes so united with God that it no longer needs:

Church sacraments
Moral rules
Priestly mediation
Fear of sin
Virtuous acts done out of obligation

Because the soul is completely aligned with divine will, it acts naturally from love rather than from external commands.

Marguerite wrote in dialogue form, with characters including “Love,” “Reason,” “The Soul,” and “Holy Church the Little” (institutional Church) versus “Holy Church the Great” (the mystical body of all souls united with God).

Crucially, she distinguished between institutional Church authority and direct divine relationship. “Holy Church the Little”—the hierarchy, rules, and priests—was necessary for beginners on the spiritual path. But advanced souls could transcend it through complete union with God. This was explosive theology.

The Church’s authority rested on being the necessary mediator between humans and God.

Sacraments administered by priests were required for salvation. Confession, penance, Church law—all of this presumed that people needed institutional guidance.

Marguerite was saying: at the highest spiritual level, you don’t need any of that. The soul united with God transcends institutional authority. Church authorities saw this as dangerous heresy. It suggested that mystics could claim direct divine authority superior to Church hierarchy. It implied that someone in mystical union might be beyond sin or moral law—a heresy called “antinomianism. “And it was especially threatening coming from a woman.

The Church insisted women needed male spiritual authority—priests, confessors, bishops—to guide them. A woman claiming direct divine relationship without male mediation challenged the entire gender hierarchy of medieval Christianity.

Around 1296-1306, Marguerite’s book was condemned by the Bishop of Cambrai. It was publicly burned, and she was warned to stop teaching her ideas. Marguerite ignored the warning. She continued circulating the book and discussing her theology. She sent copies to theologians and Church authorities seeking approval, but also continued teaching despite the prohibition.

This defiance was crucial. She had multiple opportunities to submit to Church authority, burn her book, recant her teachings, and avoid execution. She refused every time. Why? Because she believed—genuinely, deeply—that her mystical experience and theological understanding came directly from God. No earthly authority, not even the Church, could invalidate that divine relationship.

In 1308, she was arrested in Paris. The Inquisition began proceedings against her. During her imprisonment (which lasted over a year), she refused to cooperate with the trial. She wouldn’t answer questions. She wouldn’t defend herself. She wouldn’t acknowledge the tribunal’s authority to judge her spiritual state. Her silence was deliberate and theological.

She believed the judges—bound by “Holy Church the Little”—couldn’t understand the mystical theology of souls who’d reached union with God. Answering them would be pointless.

The Inquisition found her guilty of heresy. They declared her a “relapsed heretic”—someone who’d been warned before and persisted in error. The penalty for relapsed heresy was death by burning.

On June 1, 1310, Marguerite was led to the Place de Grève in Paris. Accounts describe her facing execution with remarkable calm—no terror, no last-minute recantation, no screaming as the flames rose. Observers noted this serenity. Some interpreted it as demonic possession keeping her from repenting. Others saw it as proof she’d achieved the mystical state she’d written about—transcendence of fear through complete union with divine love.

Marguerite Porete became one of the first women burned for heresy by the Inquisition in Paris. Her execution was meant to be a warning: women who claimed spiritual authority independent of Church hierarchy would be silenced permanently.

But her book survived. Copies circulated anonymously throughout the 14th and 15th centuries. Because Marguerite’s name was suppressed (she was executed as a heretic), the book was copied without author attribution. Monks, mystics, and scholars read it for centuries without knowing a woman had written it. Some copies attributed it to male authors.

The mystical theology was considered so sophisticated that people assumed a man must have written it.

In 1946, scholar Romana Guarnieri finally proved that Marguerite Porete was the author. The evidence included trial records and manuscript traditions connecting the condemned book to The Mirror of Simple Souls.

Suddenly, a text that had influenced Christian mysticism for centuries was recognized as written by a woman burned for heresy.

Modern scholars recognize The Mirror as a masterpiece of mystical theology. Its influence can be traced in later mystics including Meister Eckhart (who faced similar accusations of heresy).

Marguerite’s theology anticipated ideas that would later appear in Protestant Reformation critiques of institutional Church authority and in modern mystical and contemplative traditions.

Her story matters because: She claimed spiritual authority as a woman: In an era when women were required to be spiritually subordinate to men, she insisted her mystical experience gave her theological insight. She challenged institutional religious power: She distinguished between institutional authority and divine relationship—a distinction that threatened Church hierarchy. She refused to recant: Given multiple chances to save herself by submitting to Church authority, she chose death over betraying her spiritual convictions.

She was right about mystical theology: Modern understanding of contemplative spirituality recognizes the validity of much of what she taught. Her work survived despite suppression: Burning her body didn’t destroy her ideas—they circulated for centuries, eventually vindicated.

The tragedy is that Marguerite was executed for theology that, in different contexts or coming from a man, might have been tolerated or even celebrated.

Male mystics like Meister Eckhart taught similar ideas and, while investigated, weren’t executed. Her gender made her dangerous in ways male mystics weren’t. A woman claiming to transcend priestly authority threatened both religious and gender hierarchies simultaneously.

To Marguerite Porete: You wrote that the soul united with God needs no intermediary—and the Church killed you for threatening their monopoly on salvation. You refused to recant even when recantation would have saved you. You chose death over betraying your mystical experience and theological convictions. Your silence before the Inquisition wasn’t weakness—it was theological statement. You didn’t recognize their authority to judge what you knew through direct divine union. You faced the flames with the serenity you’d written about—the transcendence of fear through complete surrender to divine love. They burned your body. They tried to erase your name. They suppressed your book. But your words survived. For centuries, they circulated anonymously, influencing mystics who didn’t know a woman had written them. When scholars finally proved you were the author, your genius was undeniable. You were right about mystical union. You were right that souls can experience God directly. You were right that love transcends institutional authority. The Church that executed you eventually had to acknowledge the validity of mystical theology like yours. The ideas they burned you for are now recognized as legitimate contemplative spirituality. You died for claiming women’s spiritual authority. For insisting divine love was greater than ecclesiastical power. For refusing to let priests mediate your relationship with God. That claim cost you your life. But it couldn’t be silenced. Your voice, speaking across seven centuries, still insists: the soul united with Love needs no permission to speak directly to God. They couldn’t burn that truth. And they couldn’t burn your courage.

She ruled Judea for 9 years of peace and prosperity

Published January 9, 2026 by tindertender

After her husband’s death, they expected chaos—instead, she ruled Judea for 9 years of peace and prosperity that ancient sources praised for generations.

Jerusalem, 76 BCE. King Alexander Jannaeus lay dying. His reign had been brutal—marked by civil war, mass executions, and conflict between religious factions. Judea was exhausted, divided, bleeding.

On his deathbed, Alexander did something unusual: he designated his wife, Salome Alexandra, as his successor. Not one of their sons. Not a military commander. His wife.
She was around 64 years old. She would rule for nine years—and those years would be remembered as among the most peaceful and prosperous in Judean history.

This is her actual story, remarkable enough without embellishment.

Salome Alexandra (known in Hebrew as Shlomtzion, meaning “peace of Zion”) was born around 141 BCE. Little is known about her early life, but she came from a priestly family and was well-connected to Jerusalem’s religious and political elite.

She married Alexander Jannaeus around 103 BCE. He was a Hasmonean king—descended from the Maccabees who’d won Jewish independence from Greek rule. But the Hasmonean dynasty had become corrupt, brutal, and increasingly unpopular.

Alexander’s reign was particularly violent. He fought constantly—external wars against neighbors, internal war against the Pharisees (a Jewish religious faction that opposed him). At one point, he crucified 800 Pharisees while feasting and watching them die.

Judea under Alexander was traumatized.
When he died in 76 BCE, Salome assumed the throne. She became “Queen” (basilissa in Greek, malka in Aramaic)—the only woman to rule Judea independently in the Hasmonean period.
Ancient sources—particularly the Jewish historian Josephus and the Talmud—describe her reign positively, which is notable given how critical they are of other Hasmonean rulers.
What made her reign successful?

Political balance: Salome reversed her husband’s policies toward the Pharisees. She allied with them, giving them influence in the Sanhedrin (Jewish council) while keeping the Sadducees (another faction) from becoming too powerful. This balance ended the civil conflict that had plagued her husband’s reign.

Domestic stability: Unlike Alexander, who was constantly at war, Salome focused on internal governance. The Talmud associates her reign with prosperity—harvests were good, peace prevailed.

Diplomatic skill: She maintained Judea’s position without major military campaigns. She recognized that Judea, surrounded by larger powers (Egypt, Syria, Rome), needed diplomacy more than conquest.

Respect for religious authority: By working with the Pharisees and supporting Torah scholarship (generally—not specifically for women), she gained popular support. The Pharisees emphasized law and learning over the priestly aristocracy favored by the Sadducees.

The Talmud (Tractate Taanit 23a) says of her reign: “In the days of Shimon ben Shetach and Queen Shlomtzion, rain fell on Wednesday nights, so that the wheat grains grew as large as kidneys, barley grains as large as olive pits, and lentils as large as gold dinars.”

This is obviously legendary exaggeration, but it indicates how her reign was remembered—as a golden age of peace and plenty.

Was she opposed because she was a woman? The historical sources don’t emphasize this. She seems to have assumed power relatively smoothly as her husband’s chosen successor.

While some Sadducees opposed her alliance with Pharisees, ancient sources frame this as political-religious conflict, not gender-based.
Did she champion women’s education specifically? There’s no historical evidence for this claim. While she supported the Pharisees who valued Torah study, nothing in Josephus, the Talmud, or other sources attributes specific policies about women’s education to her.

Women’s formal Jewish education remained extremely limited in this period and for centuries after. If Salome had implemented revolutionary policies expanding women’s education, it would likely have been noted in sources—either as praise or criticism.

This doesn’t diminish her accomplishment. Ruling successfully for nine years in the ancient world as a woman was extraordinary. She didn’t need to also be a feminist education reformer to be impressive.

What happened after her death reveals the fragility of her achievements—but not for the reasons sometimes claimed.

Salome died around 67 BCE at approximately age 73. She’d designated her older son, Hyrcanus II, as her successor. But her younger son, Aristobulus II, challenged him.
Civil war erupted immediately—not because people opposed female rule, but because of normal succession disputes between ambitious brothers.

The war weakened Judea at exactly the wrong moment. Rome was expanding eastward. In 63 BCE, Roman general Pompey intervened in the civil war, besieged Jerusalem, and essentially ended Judean independence.

Judea would remain under Roman control (directly or through client kings like Herod) for the next century, until the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE.

So yes, everything Salome built collapsed after her death. But not because of gender-based opposition or rollback of women’s rights. It collapsed because her sons’ ambitions destroyed what she’d carefully maintained.

Salome Alexandra’s actual legacy:
She proved women could rule effectively: In a world where female political power was rare, she governed successfully for nine years.
She ended civil conflict: Through political skill rather than military force, she brought peace after years of violence.

She balanced competing factions: Her diplomatic management of Pharisees and Sadducees maintained stability.

She prioritized domestic prosperity: Unlike her husband’s military adventurism, she focused on governance and peace.

She’s remembered positively: Ancient sources—which were often critical of rulers and rarely praised women leaders—speak well of her reign.

These accomplishments are remarkable and historically documented. We don’t need to invent claims about women’s education advocacy to make her impressive.

Why does this matter? Why not just accept the embellished version that makes her sound more feminist?

Because historical accuracy matters. When we project modern values onto historical figures without evidence, we:

Diminish their actual achievements by replacing them with what we wish they’d done
Distort history in ways that ultimately undermine our understanding of how change actually happens

Lose credibility when people discover the claims aren’t supported by sources
Miss opportunities to understand the real constraints and possibilities of women’s power in different historical contexts.

Salome Alexandra’s actual story—ruling successfully for nine years, maintaining peace, balancing factions, being remembered positively by sources that usually dismissed female rulers—is impressive precisely because it happened in a world that offered women almost no political power.

We honor her better by acknowledging what she actually accomplished within the constraints she faced, rather than inventing accomplishments that fit modern priorities.

To Salome Alexandra: You ruled Judea during a period of peace and prosperity after years of violence and chaos. You balanced competing religious factions without resorting to your husband’s brutality. You maintained Judea’s independence through diplomacy rather than constant warfare. You proved that a woman could govern as effectively as any king.

Ancient sources that were often critical of rulers praised your reign. The Talmud associated your years with abundance. Josephus acknowledged your political skill.

You didn’t need to revolutionize women’s education to be remarkable—though later generations sometimes claim you did because they want ancient validation for modern values.
Your actual accomplishment—ruling successfully for nine years in the ancient world—is impressive enough. The fact that civil war erupted immediately after your death shows how much your skill maintained stability.

You proved women could govern. That was radical in itself.

We don’t need to make you into something you weren’t. What you actually were—a capable ruler who brought peace and prosperity—deserves recognition without embellishment.

Being a Woman isn’t a Competition

Published January 9, 2026 by tindertender
Duchess Helene in Bavaria.

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/15Z8tuosM7L/?mibextid=wwXIfr

She Let Go

Published January 6, 2026 by tindertender

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of fear. She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go… She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.
She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her day-timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyse whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.
She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.
She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.
here was no applause or congratulations.
No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.
Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.
A light breeze blew through her.
And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

~Rev Safire Rose~

Mary Mother of God ~ Religious men burned her alive many times

Published January 5, 2026 by tindertender

These nasty cornholios have burned her alive many, many times, often after days of gang r*pe. Rats bastards recently stated they “have to put up with the Mary’s for a while”.

I say, “no you don’t, for the Mary’s are finally being gifted opportunity to let you brutilizer redrumming r*pists go. I have no mercy to offer.

She succeeded where they were certain she would fail, and they’re mad!

Published January 4, 2026 by tindertender

She’s got a whole Universe of Kings and Queens, Gods and Goddesses, whatever the Upper Echelon of the Universe call themselves, the Counsil of Universes, for there are many, unified in their decision to elevate her.

She is alive because they have deemed her worthy of life. She has been given reprieve, for they have deemed her innocent of any crime, and are rewarding her for the centuries of torture she endured at the hands of man … because she dare speak of love, because she dare be intelligent, because she dare expand into life and be recognized as a Woman who deeply loves Creation and the Life it holds … gifts of the Mother Father Most High Divine.

They poisoned her and hurt her bad, physically and with magic … they wished death upon her the whole of her life. They insist she isn’t responsible, even though she succeeded where they were certain she would fail. They were certain their efforts to deteriorate and disqualify her were sufficient. They are hollering, whining really, and insisting they have rights to her essence, energy, gifts ,,, soul and right to life.

They want to rule the universe. They’ve been slave trading for centuries, announcing themselves conquerors, masters.

The universe came together without prejudice and chose this Woman Survivor as Representative. A whole Universe of teachers to teach, to guide, and the Most High Divine within all realms supervises it all.

This time, it will go a little differently.

But the trafficker insists it has rights to the merchandise of angels, so the transition is a little bumpy.

May it settle quickly.

Aho. Amen. Wado.

Executed at 29

Published January 3, 2026 by tindertender

Source :: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1KPb7ZHGoU/?mibextid=wwXIfr

She was executed at 29 for refusing to accept a world where women had no voice. Her final words would echo for generations.

Japan, early 1900s. The emperor was considered divine. Women could not vote, own property, or speak in political spaces. Society was a fortress built on hierarchy, and questioning it was heresy. Kanno Sugako looked at this fortress and decided she would not live within its walls.

Born in 1881, Kanno defied every expectation placed on Japanese women of her era. While society demanded silence and submission, she became a journalist—one of the few women writing for public newspapers. She didn’t write about fashion or domesticity. She wrote about injustice. About the suffocating restrictions on women. About the impossibility of change within a system that treated dissent as treason.

Her words were dangerous because they asked dangerous questions: Why should half the population be voiceless? Why should one man be worshipped while millions suffered? Why should we accept the world as it is when it could be something better?

Kanno wasn’t satisfied with words alone. She joined radical political movements, attended banned meetings, and connected with anarchists and socialists who dreamed of dismantling the entire social order. In an era when most women couldn’t leave home without permission, she was organizing revolution.

Then in 1910, authorities uncovered what they called the High Treason Incident—a plot against Emperor Meiji himself. Kanno was arrested along with two dozen others. The evidence was questionable, the trial rushed, the outcome predetermined. Twenty-four people would be sentenced to death.

Kanno Sugako was the only woman among them.
The state wanted her to recant, to plead for mercy, to perform the expected role of the repentant female. They wanted her to cry, to apologize, to beg for her life in exchange for admitting she’d been led astray by men.

She refused every script they offered.

Instead, she wrote. In her prison cell, Kanno penned her autobiography and reflective essays that would be smuggled out and preserved. Her final writings revealed not regret, but absolute conviction. She saw her death not as a tragedy but as testimony—proof that some truths were worth dying for.

On January 24, 1911, Kanno Sugako was executed by hanging. She was 29 years old. As she walked to the gallows, witnesses reported she showed no fear. She had made her choice, understood its cost, and claimed her fate with startling clarity.

The Japanese government wanted to erase her. They banned her writings, suppressed her name, and hoped history would forget a woman who dared challenge divine authority.

But you cannot silence what refuses to be silent.
Kanno’s story survived through whispers, through secretly preserved texts, through generations of feminists who found strength in knowing someone had walked this path before them. Decades after her death, her autobiography was published. Her letters were studied. Her courage was recognized.
She became a symbol for Japanese feminists fighting for suffrage in the 1920s. For women demanding rights after World War II. For every movement that asked why women should accept less.

What Kanno Sugako understood—what made her both terrifying to authorities and inspiring to those who came after—was this: some systems cannot be reformed. Sometimes witnessing injustice without acting becomes complicity. Sometimes the only way to prove you’re free is to choose, even when the choice carries the ultimate price.

Her story is uncomfortable because it refuses easy answers. She wasn’t a martyr who accidentally stumbled into tragedy. She was a woman who looked at her options—silence or defiance—and chose defiance knowing exactly where it would lead.

History has given us many stories of women who survived against impossible odds. Kanno’s story is different. She didn’t survive. But her refusal to accept the world as it was helped create a world where Japanese women could eventually vote, own property, speak freely, and choose their own paths.
She paid with her life for freedoms she would never experience. That’s not a story with a happy ending. It’s a story with an honest one.

Every right we have today was paid for by someone. Some paid with their time, their comfort, their reputation. Some, like Kanno Sugako, paid with everything.

Her legacy isn’t about the methods she chose—those remain historically complex and debated. Her legacy is about the question she forced into existence: What are you willing to sacrifice for a world you’ll never see but others might inhabit?
She answered that question at 29, in a prison cell, with absolute certainty.

And her answer changed what was possible for every woman who came after.

“Love Thy Enemy” they say. Eff You Mutant.

Published January 1, 2026 by tindertender

How about “loving them” from a very, very, great distance. Better yet, how about cutting ALL energetic cords, complete separation.

“Trust and love each other” some say. These are those who weren’t forced to listen to the cries of tortured children every moment of every day for decades, pleading that someone save them.

People criticize those who try to keep animals from the slaughter, not understanding “the people we aren’t supposed to talk about” have been putting the bodies of their sacrifices, these tortured children, into the meat grinder and selling them to civilians as hotdogs and other ground meats.

These same “unintentional” cannibals, get mad at those of us trying to keep their sorry azzes out of the meat grinder. Perhaps the Mother Father Divine should just let them go?

Go forth child, into the vipers den. Go forth child and “be friends” with the vampire, feeding on your soul.

Long ago I tried to save the souls of people speaking on this very topic, and how these nasty jacks would prostitute everyone … and they have. They’ve been relentlessly feeding on the people, in many ways.

I no longer care to save anyone’s soul. I suffered centuries, being recycled, sacrificed, consumed. My energy and gifts were used to hurt people by those wearing a mask, a catfishing copycat … many of them … framing me as terrorist, as prostitute.

I’m no longer willing to give up my life for those who convict me of being mean. I release you. I give you over to those vampires you insist need to be trusted. I allow you freedom to go … and be their supply.

Everyone needs to learn their lessons.
I’ve learned mine, by narrowly escaping their feeding line, after being drained, harvested, soul essence sucked out of me by an invisible, energetic straw.

You can be the new fodder if you wish.
God has it all arranged.
He knows who chose who.

—————————-

The interdimensional guide of the curator (seller of human soul value, and vital, energetic source, is talking about a “peace treaty”.

These sellers of human vital force, soul value, and happiness have NEVER honored a peace treaty. They use such things as permission to stay in the energy while they strategize a way to come back harder, with greater destruction.

They have exterminated 20 out of the 21 species of human. They have been terraforming the planet and chemically altering humans to become trans … something other than a natural human. (atrazine in water supply, bpa -synthetic estrogen – in all canned good). They intend for humans as God created them to cease to be.

They’ve been torturing children, eating them, some while alive, and there is no peace in them. You cannot make pacts with the devil, they worship death and are searching for a success story, and their success story means the failure of Gods Family … Humanity.

These near perfect copycat mutations have no love in them, although they can “act like it” nearly perfectly.

They offer no structural value. They do not create, they destroy.

They are invasive “bark beatles” in the Forests of Eden, feeding on the “trees” of planetary stabilizers … those strong enough to root deeply in shadow, to grow mighty in light, and hold temperance within themselves, and for their communities.

There’s a reason the Most High rewards such beings, and we’ve got a bunch of 70% percenters out there (meaning they’ve only passed 70% of their lessons) who target those who have passed 100% of their lessons … they like to redrum the successes and consume their soul value, essential energy, all covenants and wealth, while “pretending” they are a success.

——————————————

Women want to love the masculine, still, and it makes my heart happy, at the same time, quite fierce. (Let the brutalizer, parasitical, vampire be exterminated).

God said the mean mutants pretending to be men would get what they deserve. I in no way shape or form will object, give mercy, or defend them.

I pray the soft hearted woman learn to love herself enough to recognize those she feels drawn to “trust” are not the ones “made in the image of God”, they are “bark Beatles” in the Garden of Eden, and they’ve been feeding on the Womb of Power, the Tree of Life, and the innocent life coming from it, for far too long.

Gratefully, True Divine Masculine heard our prayers and are here now wiping the floor with their faces.

The Mothers Bridge was mended. The Father knows the truth now. The mutants who have defiled the Mothers, and the reputation of the Divine Fathers, by using the man suit made in the image of, the phallus, the creators tool to bring forth life, to hurt, harm, terrorize, and unalive weaker, softer beings, and their weeping hearts.

Eff you mutant.

Committed to an Asylum by husband who wanted a younger wife

Published December 28, 2025 by tindertender

Ada Morrison was committed to Connecticut asylum in 1893, age thirty, by husband who wanted younger wife. Commitment reason: “excessive reading and intellectual pretensions unsuitable for woman.” Ada had taught school before marriage, read constantly, discussed politics. Husband said this proved mental instability. Two doctors examined her for ten minutes, agreed intelligent woman was clearly insane. Ada was locked in asylum for four years, labeled insane for being educated. She escaped eight times. Caught seven times. Succeeded once. Took four years of attempts—climbing windows, picking locks, bribing guards, hiding in laundry carts. Ada’s intelligence that got her committed was same intelligence that freed her.

This tintype from 1897 shows Ada after final successful escape, age thirty-four, displaying scars from previous attempts—broken arm from second-floor fall, burn marks from climbing hot steam pipes, lash marks from punishment after failed escapes. She holds commitment papers declaring her “mentally deficient with delusions of intellectual capability.” Ada had graduated college. Taught school for six years. Read Latin and Greek. Asylum declared this insanity. Her husband declared it embarrassing. Her intelligence declared it crime. Ada spent four years proving she was sane enough to escape place she was imprisoned for being smart.

Ada reached New York after escape, changed name to Sarah Bennett, worked as clerk hiding education level to avoid suspicion. Never contacted family—they’d supported commitment. Never remarried—couldn’t trust man with legal power over her freedom. Lived quietly for thirty-eight years, died in 1935, age seventy-two, having spent thirty-eight years hiding intelligence that had nearly destroyed her. Ada had been imprisoned for reading. Spent rest of life pretending she barely could. That was survival in world that called educated women insane.

After her death, landlady found Ada’s room filled with books—hundreds of volumes hidden behind false wall. Ada had kept reading despite risk, kept learning despite having been punished for it, kept thinking despite it being dangerous for woman in her era. Also found: diary documenting eight escape attempts with detailed notes about asylum security, guard rotations, lock mechanisms. Ada had been brilliant enough to escape asylum that imprisoned brilliant women.

Her commitment papers are now in women’s history museum: “Ada Morrison was committed for reading too much. Escaped asylum eight times before succeeding. Spent 38 years hiding intelligence that prison couldn’t contain. She was insane for being smart. World was insane for calling that illness.”

Letting Go of the Ache for Understanding

Published December 23, 2025 by tindertender

There comes a moment in life when you realize that some hearts will never truly hear you—no matter how clearly you speak, no matter how vulnerably you open your soul. It’s a tender, bruising truth: people can stand right in front of you and still miss the essence of what you’re trying to share. Their ears catch the words, but their fears, wounds, or defenses twist them into something unrecognizable. And in that distortion, you feel the sting of being unseen.

For so long, I carried that sting like a heavy stone in my chest. I’d replay conversations, searching for the perfect phrase I might have missed—the one that could finally bridge the gap. I’d explain myself again and again, softer this time, louder the next, hoping that persistence would crack open their understanding. But each attempt only left me more exhausted, more diminished, as if my truth had to be shrunk or reshaped to fit into their narrow view.

Then, slowly, the deeper pain revealed itself: not just the misunderstanding, but the quiet desperation beneath it—the longing to be fully known, to have my experiences validated by the very people who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) see them. Why did I keep pouring my light into vessels that were already sealed shut? Why did I let their limitations dim my own?

The turning point was a gentle surrender. I stopped trying to force the connection. I stopped believing that my worth depended on their comprehension. It hurt at first—this release—like pulling away from a warmth that was never truly there. Tears came, not from anger, but from grieving the illusion that I could make someone understand if I just tried harder.

In letting go, something profound unfolded. I began to feel the weight lift. My energy, once scattered in endless justifications, returned to me. I stood taller in my own knowing, no longer pleading for permission to exist as I am. There is a fierce, quiet strength in this: honoring your truth without demanding that others mirror it back.

You don’t owe anyone your exhaustion. You don’t need to teach emotional depth to those who aren’t ready to learn it. Your story, your feelings, your perspective—they are valid in their fullness, even if they echo unanswered in someone else’s silence.

True understanding can’t be wrested or begged for; it arrives on its own, softly, when hearts are open. And those who are meant to see you will. They will meet you in the depth without you having to pull them there.

So breathe out the need to be heard by everyone. Release the ache of proving yourself. Hold your truth close, like a sacred flame, and let it illuminate your path instead of burning you out trying to light someone else’s darkness.

In this letting go, you reclaim your peace. You rediscover the beauty of being whole unto yourself. And you walk forward lighter, deeper, freer—knowing that your light shines not for approval, but because it is yours to carry.

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