Seeking Spiritual Investor or Someone Who Would Like to be a Spiritual Investor $149,760 Per Year

   Yes, it's unfortunately a.i....one of the tools that is useful now, but in the near future will be the worst enemy of humanity. Digital "Currency", A.I. and Global I.D. is the evil trinity that will be a big part of Global Slavery...Wake Up about what's around the corner !

model is from: https://outcast-clothing.us

              

Some women are the highest level of natural art. 

The Bible says; "whatever things are lovely, meditate on those things. Practice only the Biblical version of meditation. "New Agers" do not own the term or practice of meditation, contrary to the brainwashing of the American public. If meditation is based in Yoga/Hinduism or Buddhism it is very toxic on the spiritual-level. Not to mention the waste of precious time. Also do not practice meditation that is based in Eastern Martial Arts, which is connected to Eastern Religion 99% of the time. If I had it to do all over again...As far as martial arts/self-defense is concerned, I would focus on; 1) Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu 2) Boxing (as long as there is not too much full-contact sparring...breaking news; it's not good for your brain ! 3) Weight-training 3-4 times per week...

Part 1 of a story: 

The air in Neo-Veridia hummed with a peculiar, melancholic resonance. It wasn’t the vibrant thrum of progress, but the low, mournful sigh of a city built on forgotten dreams. Towering structures, impossibly elegant, pierced a sky perpetually tinged with the bruised hues of twilight. Yet, between these monuments to aspiration, a different kind of architecture was visible, or rather, felt. They were the spectral remnants, the ghostly imprints of spiritual movements that had flared bright and then guttered out, leaving behind only echoes in the ethereal substratum of existence. These were the soul-cities of abandoned doctrines, the necropolis of failed enlightenment, the Guru Graveyard.

Master Saneiv stood on a precipice overlooking this sprawling expanse of spiritual detritus. His presence was an anomaly in this landscape of fading luminescence. Where others might see tragedy, or perhaps even a morbid fascination, Saneiv perceived a diagnostic chart of human folly. His power wasn’t a radiant aura; it was a grounded, almost magnetic stillness, an unshakeable core of clarity that seemed to repel the pervasive melancholy. He watched, not with pity, but with a dissecting gaze, a surgeon observing the scars of countless botched operations on the human soul. Disdain warred with a grudging understanding within him. He understood the allure, the desperate yearning that drove souls towards these shimmering mirages, and he understood, perhaps too well, the mechanisms of their inevitable collapse.