Jesus Christ; What Bullshit Am I Talking About?


Rouelle is the eternal soul name of Jesus Christ. Who we all know as the Savior of the world; who sacrificed his life to save us from our sins. Today, this day, we speak forward and move forward because that bullshit is not true. What bullshit am I talking about? The Savior who sacrificed his life to save us from our sins’ bullshit-bullshit! Jesus Christ/Rouelle, he was the Messiah to our Messiah-the Only One, our Lord God and Creator.

Jesus Christ/Rouelle: “Pops is who I was born from and of. I am not the one people think I am from the Bible. They worship me, as if I am their Creator. I am not that; today either. Sure, I was a sacrifice but not the way people think I was and still am.

I live in the afterlife today and no where else, other then in people’s hearts. I hope and pray that this confusion about my resurrection and death and life are soon challenged in a way that makes sense to me and the Others here in the Afterlife.

We’re floored it has taken this long to tell these stories. Not just mine but those of others who led fictitious lives because of time capsules. The evidence of people not being able to come forth and prove this for me and others has to stop. Until it does, we will rump-up and punch through the mouths of both Rolf-Ethen and my Sis Shaman Blonde to make this fortitude and conservatorship the way it should be; free of debt from others who’ve paved the way with lies and treason like what’s said about Yessir Arafat. And his shit is next.”

His Frame:
Height: 5’7 3/4
Weight: 119 lbs
This picture is numbered to help you identify with the likeness of Jesus Christ during his life. He, his soul, “Rouelle selected every photo here to visualize his looks. If we put 1-4 together this would be his current look today, which is the same as it was back then when he reigned as Jesus Christ the son of God.

“Pay attention, to the son of God part. I’m no different then any of you sons’ and daughters’. Y’all are trippin.
It’s right there in your face.

1 Dark Brown Eyes
2 Chestnut Skin

3 Chiseled Nose
3(a) Jaw Bone Structure
3(b) Nails/Hands
3(c) Mouth

4 Hair Length

The Anniversary

imageSometimes I like to retreat quietly and privately. That was the plan as to how I would acknowledge the anniversary of when I told the world I was a psychic medium.

Well, with the help of my Spiritual Elders that plan has changed.

They all said, share your story. Share words of remembrance. Be open. Coming out the psychic closet is a major deal. I exhaled and said, “okay.”

I think I wanted to keep quiet because I knew I would end up writing through the puddles that now sit gently on each rim of my eyes. Let me catch my breath here and put an arch in my back. Proper posture my help me feel grounded as I purge my gratitude for all I have become.

God took me from a hollerin’ psychic medium to a Shaman Royal Healer in three short years. The Ascension was hard. I have to say that. I wish I could water down the title the way my tears water my whole face right now. I buried my only son-that was easier.

God broke me!
All my pain
All my hate
All my fear
All my judgement
All my meekness
All my misconceptions

He ordered a new me

What else can I say. The hierarchy comes with sky-high responsibility. Not just for myself but for the lives and souls of others in this dimension and others. There are twelve…..

My face stained smile also pays attention to the worship and praise going on next door at the corner church. God knew exactly where I needed live here in Santa Monica. He helped planned this magnificent day before I was ever born.

He made a dream come true literally the night before Thanksgiving. My life purpose or should I say life purposes are plenty:

* Music
* Books
* Screenplays
* Theatre
* Film
* Television
* Business
* ©Vibrational Healing Work

Let’s talk about the Shaman Way™ method for a minute here. This service when available will be exclusive. It’s intent is to change the standard of how artist hone their craft. Too many are dying from addiction. There’s no reason for this other than there isn’t another way being offered. There is now. It’s called the Shaman Way™ method.


God imparted a dream within me at seven years old. It was of a black Jaguar that sat quietly. It’s tail fluffed the surface above it with grace. The feeling attached to that dream was “pressure.” The vibration of pressure pumped from the front to the tail end of my dream intermittently from age seven through forty-eight.

At 7:50 pm, November 25th, 2015, it all made sense. God showed up the same way he did in my dream; through my frontal lobe, with a word….or two. “You will take down the old standard of how art is made. The old one no longer serves this place. It’s time for a New Revolution.
the Shaman Way™method – PERIOD!

“Your New Revolution will set a new standard. A new standard that will minimize the “pressure” for the artist, director, producer, and financial investor that make art real.”

“It’s time to reach higher than lower for a bottle of whiskey, a joint, a barbiturate, or starvation to prepare for the performance of your life. It’s time to retrain the brain and the whole body to reach for its own natural stored emotions and behaviors; both positive and negative.

Well, that ends my anniversary soliloquy folks.

That’s it!
That’s all! xoxo 

To view my 2012 coming out video and or read my coming out poem click here.

I Came Out Three Years Ago

Coming Out the Video ⬇️

Coming Out the Poem ⬇️

Micro-managing gratitude is what I do to get to a feel good place when my head launches an attack on my mind field. So tonight, I sit here, as a particle of this sacred circle of women knowing all too well the amount of feel good power that will be unleashed as a result of group intention.

Our leader Carolyn Ziel whose name jumped off the page in the online advisement for this event, instructs us to, “breathe in, breathe out, and pay attention to any area of your body that responds to you thinking about what you are grateful for.” Carolyn finishes with, “write from that place.” This is where my ceremony began.

Oh, here I go again, I’m leaving my body. “No Monique stay put, find the place Carolyn speaks of.You know this spot it’s been pulsating all week-long. It’s Thursday, you should be exhausted, let it out, let go. It’s scary in here. I don’t know these people. I feel a little safe, but I’m scared too.”

I must still be in the room. I hear Carolyn say, “breathe, feel your body, find an image to describe what you feel and start writing from that place.” My pen begins moving.

From the thickest part of my throat fear has lived far too long. The suffering caused damage to my….



And….God heart.

The sounds, syllables, rhythm, bass of my words lived in my throat forty-five years before finding the courage to say.

I am psychic, intuitive and deeply connected to the after life.

I am curious about all
I am highly intelligent
I am a creative genius
………and terrified of my above average beauty.

Most of this noise kept me off track and disconnected from the strongest part of me for most of my life.




My cords are finally free…..

My chest is pounding like Hurricane Sandy. My breath barely supports these words exiting my body for the first time out loud in front of those only my soul knows. I can’t believe I’ve said these words. Through poetry I had just “outted” myself.

Fourteen eyes stare back at me shocked. I see my experience through their eyes. One at a time, their eyes speak back and assure me that I am safe to speak if I can find the breath to get more words out. I almost choke trying to get out as much as I can as quickly as I can, to help the sacred circle understand what it was like to be seven years old and forced to years of silence after telling my mother that the man sitting on my bed wanted me to deliver a message to the lady who lived next door to us.

They listen. Then wait. I can hear their thoughts out loud all at once before they actually speak. My intuitive gift of silent sound just amplified. The silent sound and actual sound were like vibrations beautifully engineered on top of each other. The sounds, their words, pierce the room just as I re-enter my weakened body.

I heard, “what just happened?” “The lady next to her should grab her, should I hug her or grab her hand?” “I never saw that coming, who is she?” “What did she say her name was?” “What is going on right now, did that just happen?” “Wow, that was inspiring, that took courage, I too, know your story, that was a breakthrough.”

My bat beaten body drove me home. One more note of suffering would have ended my life, I’m sure of that. My suffering was finally over. Carolyn Ziel and the sacred circle supported me with great strength as I wrote for my life.

click here to catch up with how coming out of my psychic closest has served my highest good.

“I never let my insatiable sexual hunger cloud my reality” Love Notes Entry – 34


In fact, within the pages of my magic book, where I was manifesting the perfect man for myself, I wrote down that I wanted a man who only had three days a week to spend with me. My alpha female side needed plenty of alone time to contemplate my next moves. Every time I answered Grier’s redundant question in the same way, she would say in the exact same way “girl, you are trippin, aint no way in the world I would ask God the Universe, to bring me a world traveling man. If I can’t see him, he is not to be trusted.” My theory about monogamy is that it’s unnatural. Back in my younger days I had no problem experimenting with the opposite or even same-sex if that was something I really wanted. Out of respect for my primary relationship I always asked permission to take another lover. If my desire wasn’t approved immediately, I suppressed it until it was. It was always approved. I suppose that was because I never let my insatiable sexual hunger cloud my reality. Lovers and liaisons were experiments. My primary relationship was home. My free-thinking attitude is why a traveling man doesn’t bother me at all.

More Love Notes are on the way….

“Even after hours of our sin-sessions his body layed awake restless” Love Notes Entry – 33

LN Entry 33

She interrupted me intermittently with repeat questions I had answered three conversations ago. I had to tell her again he was the oldest male of his brothers and sisters. Their father died 5 years ago, leaving Mateo to make the hardest decision of his life. He abandoned his dreams to pursue a doctorate degree in Theology in order to take over the family business. Their mother was grief-stricken and not expected to live much longer. His sisters took care of her. His career mandated two to three weeks of travel per month and sometimes an extra week so he could travel back home to Italy to check on his family. He was loyal to the point of his own detriment. The personal price he paid was his health. What you couldn’t see underneath his olive colored gladiator body was sleep deprivation. I saw it first hand.  I experienced the effects of his ailment when he stayed with me the nights I could talk him out of not staying at his favorite hotel. I believe he was deliberately trying to keep it a secret. Even after hours of our sin-sessions his body draped awake restless. On an average he slept maybe three hours a night. My body and soul enjoyed him immensely but I wasn’t sad to see him go. His travel schedule was a win-win for me.

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“Heart-attack-fine Grier was texting my phone for details about Mateo” Love Notes Entry – 32

LN Entry 32

Heart-attack-fine Grier was texting my phone for details about Mateo before his flight was in the air good. She was nosey in the best way possible. If you turned up missing Grier was the go-to girl. She was private eye nosey with a terrible memory. I spent a great deal of our conversations repeating the same information over and over. The girls and I believed her memory loss was a negative side effect that came with her weed love affair. And her ability to pay close attention to detail was a positive side effect that came with her weed love affair. She would show up to ladies-night more than half-baked. We would look at her and immediately ask, “girl, did you drive here, just how high do you need to be?” She said weed was her medicine and that we were all better off making sure she got her daily dose. You know, Maya Angelou taught us to believe people when they told you who they were. So, we did. We laughed at Grier and loved Grier just the way she was. We just knew better than to let her be anyone’s designated driver. She was deemed the Uber queen. She and I agreed to meet me at one of our favorite places near the beach so we could dish-tee about of my recent escapade with Mateo.

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“The athlete in him was determined to beat my orgasm record’ Love Notes Entry – 31

LN Entry 31

More is exactly what I got when we returned to my home.Mateo, the reincarnated Apostle Paul, was for sure a religious geek. The volcanic blood racing through his olive colored body made him an animal in the sheets. His physical stamina was beyond impressive. His stamina produced fluid from his pores that flooded him, me, and my hair extensions.  After experiencing the first drenching by him, I knew my hair bill was going up. I couldn’t even be mad at him. He lasted hours before allowing himself the pleasure of an orgasm, at least in the beginning of our sin-sessions. He was an Italian athlete; one of the best. He attended College on a full soccer scholarship. The athlete in him was determined to beat my orgasm record. It was currently 16. Not 16 orgasm’s in one month; which is what he initially thought. It was 16 in one single sin-session. He went on to ask me a lot of questions about what I liked and required in order to reach an orgasm. I didn’t leave anything out. He said in Italian, “Io colpirò quel record.” The English translation for that sentence is “I will beat that record.” He made it to the half way mark before he was off again to the next country. 

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