There will always be people who cannot “see” the intelligence inside experiential truth — the kind that lives in stories, ruptures, memories, and the strange little sequences that shape a soul.
Some think truth only emerges in laboratories or textbooks.
But truth also forms in the body, in the pattern, in the repeated rupture points that show up the exact same way, year after year, timeline after timeline.
For Resonant Seers, this is basically science.
We don’t ascend in straight lines.
We don’t arc.
We spiral.
We spiral up the ladders of time, keeping coherence, clarity, and continuity intact.
We keep the thread. Guardians you could say.
And yes — I have always loved being a little different and strange.
It’s exactly how I preserved my inner world so well.
My inner world carries fortitude because I’ve survived more psychological labels than the entire DSM-V could categorize.
I have lived through 100+ archetypes of what the system calls “pathology.”
And I’m still here, stronger on the other end — untouched by their definitions, unclaimed by their frameworks.
The system did not swallow me whole.
I survived just in time to hear the one message I needed — the one that activated my voice and let me begin threading resonant threads across reality, both online and in the physical.
Now that I’ve healed my 49 Fractures (see the link on the left column), I can see clearly.
I can see myself clearly.
And I have never given a fuck about what any person or system thought of me.
That is my truth.
The Only System I Ever Resonated With
The only system that ever held true resonance for me was Colorado College.
A small, brilliant constellation of human beings — wild, curious, thoughtful — people whose inner worlds mirrored my own complexity.
But when I moved to Denver, the resonance began to fade.
And then life shifted sharply.
I moved back to Palo Alto due to tragic circumstances.
I spent 2020–2023 in my parents’ home.
Then came rehab in Clovis, CA in July 2023.
Then back to San Jose.
Then Sunnyvale — where I’ve been since early 2024.
Location matters.
When you’re looking at systems and patterns across dimensions, location always matters.
(Hint: examine Ley Line maps + use your eyes. Your VISION will decode what books cannot.)
This Land Has Memory
Now I’m in the heart of so-called “Silicon Valley.”
(Not its rightful name — but here we are in 2025.)
This is Ohlone land.
It used to be a fertile valley full of orchards, rivers, and dense, breathing earth.
And yes — the leylines are still here.
Buried. Waiting.
When people reclaim the right kind of power — their own embodied awareness — the ley lines resurrect.
The field remembers.
My comfort is simple: we are on the right timeline.
I walk a steady path now — to the end, and forever.
The anxiety about “how I will find my people who are meant to walk this path of remembrance” is fading into a sense of calm + knowing that all will be orchestrated divinely – kind of like the sound of a harp.
The Mountain That Restored My Sight
So back to reality. . .
My vision sharpened when I drove up Mt. Umunhum (Camden Ave → Hicks Rd → Mt Umunhum Rd). That mountain told me everything I needed to know about the Bay Area.
When your vision is restored, you don’t need books first.
You only need the horizon.
Sit on a rock.
Look out over the ocean, the mountains, the desert, the plain — wherever you are.
Your body will tell you what’s true.
This is why cities like LA, NY, Miami have always scrambled my field.
Too much noise, too little grounding.
My heart can’t handle it — not yet.
Maybe someday.
I only feel safe where the gravity is real, where the bones can feel the pull of the Earth holding the body upright.
You could call that PTSD.
I call it embodiment.
Not protocol.
Not theory.
Just:
trust your body + trust your vision.
If I honor that, the thread journey takes care of itself.
The Work Continues
My field work, vault-keeping, art-making, and word-smithing — all of it — keeps evolving alongside my restored vision.
I’m just here to be myself.
To break out of every system that ever tried to compress my spark.
Cheers to the ones who can finally see the truth carried inside a story.
And may the ones who are meant to spiral this path of remembrance be brought closer to my heart each and every passing day.
With love,
Lauren Ann Robinson
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