BEYOND #METOO (PART II)

FROM HOLLYWOOD TO HOLYWORD

There is a paradox at the heart of my own story: my life was saved by the same force that once sought to destroy me. My employer, who was also my abuser, became the spark that ignited the #MeToo movement here in Australia.  When I stood up, spoke out, with a voice that quivered to expose the abuse of power and control in the workplace, I shattered the illusions upon which so much of modern employment, let’s call it what it is modern servitude, is built.   In doing so, I was cast out of the comfortable fold of a society that prefers silence over truth, complicity over courage.

When I lifted the veil, I lost every opportunity and comfort the dominant paradigm had to offer.  What I gained in return cannot be measured in wages or status.  Cast out, I was forced to search for a new way of being not offered by the world that betrayed me.  Stripped of illusions, I rose in the Spirit.   I continued my search for truth, raw real truth, not dressed in corporate slogans or polite denials and in the search for truth, I found God. Not the God bound by corrupt religion or empty ritual, but the living God, the God of Love who is both fire and sanctuary.

This was my crucible.  My exile became my initiation.  It tore me away from the machinery of modern-day slavery and planted me in the fertile soil of the New Earth. This exile is my blessing.  It made me a pioneer, not by title or salary but by the radical transformation of my soul.  My road has not been easy.  It has been lonely, misunderstood, ridiculed by a world that fears prophets and poets alike.  Yet this wilderness is holy ground.  In it, I have been forged to lead the way into uncharted territory: a path to the New Earth not because of wealth but because of the light that flows from hearts restored to love.

And I am not alone. It’s estimated around fifty million women around the world have said #MeToo and that number does not even count the countless men who, too, carry silent wounds.  This is a collective cry that cannot be unheard.  It is an alarm that shook the walls of the old order and cracked its foundations.  However, what many do not yet see is that this cry is also a call to rise, to build what the old world cannot offer.

We are building new, pure structures for those who carry this critical initiation.  We do not plan to fit back in because we cannot.  There is no going back.  We stand separate so we may be heard above the noise of a world that devours its prophets and silences its truth-tellers.   We stand apart to make visible what was hidden, to name what was unnamed, to heal what was broken in secret.

This is why sacred storytellers matter now more than ever.  Not every storyteller is the same. There are storytellers who can be bought, who sell words like currency, who help perpetuate illusions that bind the people.  We saw it clearly during the time of Covid; celebrities and musicians paraded as messengers of the dominant narrative, echoing whatever scripts served the machinery of control, silencing dissent, drowning out the songs of the wild ones who speak from the spirit. Yet the sacred storyteller cannot be bought.  We do expect ‘exchange’.   We speak from the well of truth that flows beyond the reach of empires and advertisers.  We are keepers of the living word; raw, inconvenient, holy.  

It is not enough for me to survive this path.  I am called to build it for others.   I am here to forge a bridge for exiles and truth-bearers, for those who dare to say no to illusions of power and yes to the living Edenic blueprint.  My task now is to lift the consciousness of humanity.  Art and music are my compass and my language.  They speak to the places within us that no lecture or law can reach.

In 2009, I was invited to tender for a position as head of art and culture for the Central Coast of New South Wales; a role that promised to shape society for the decades ahead, offering millions in funding each year. I didn’t see it then, but now I know it was a strategy to extend the dominion of the world’s order, the same world that exploits, controls, and devours.  How could I, a Kingdom storyteller initiated in the New Way Dreaming by the most senior Lore Women in Australia, the Keeper of the Waters at Uluru during a two year camp on the outskirts of Byron Bay and bound to the God of Love, serve such a malevolent kingdom?  I could not, and I will not.

My response to that offer to transform society using all of the arts is outlined in my comprehensive strategy outlined in www.holyword.earth.  It is not the blueprint of empire but the Edenic design channelled from God as the path to the New Earth.  Hollywood corrupted our stories and continues to hold us in a low vibration, Holyword restores sacred story and through this we transform society. 

So I stand where I was cast: outside the gates of the old world, holding a lamp for the pilgrims to come. I am walking Eden back into being.  I am a living bridge and I know now: exile was never my punishment. It was my blessing. My calling is not to build monuments for empire, but to plant seeds for the garden of the New Earth where truth sets us free, where art and song restore our memory of who we really are, and where love, radical, holy love is our only governance.

The road to the new earth is littered by abusers who must be avoided and it is no co-incidence that both the people who led me to write this story, a woman and a man, (ironically both snake oil merchants claiming to carry new businesses for the New Earth) carry the imprints of abuse and violation I spoke out about when I shared my testimony to open the #metoo movement in Australia, a movement that was only possible because I took action at the time of the event 22 years earlier.

In Christ

Lady Saffire