A letter from J.

The raw truth behind the creator.

Im not here to make you believe in this. Im not here to convince anyone of anything, and Im definitely not here to water it down so it fits into a feed and makes you feel more comfortable.

What I know - I know. What i’ve seen. What I hear, what I sense and experience, cant be unknown.

Lets be honest. The collective is already waking up, whether they are ready to admit it or not. Whether you’re in someones kitchen having a DM at 4am about life (Lets be honest, we’ve all been there) - or your watching the woman next to you on your daily commute on the train replaying Tiktok Tarot pulls like they’re oxygen. Not for entertainment. But so she feels less alone. Like she has something to look forward to.

You notice how energy is no longer a taboo subject or a weird word.

How more people are sensing things they can’t explain. How the veil is thinning.

This is not a performance piece.

This isn’t a trend, This isn’t some mask I put on because of aesthetics.

Im not here for the Algorithm.

I am here to awaken the underground.

-

Generally, when you come across someone like me, you want to know. You want to see the proof. The pudding. And I get that - Thats human. Lets be real. We trust the truth, the feral human upfront honesty more than the reviews.

So here’s me. Being human - As human as I know how to be. Because if nothing else free will and being human still reigns surpreme.

Want to know something wild? Ive always danced between the lines, one foot in the shadow and one in the light. Always selective - only revealed myself fully to a chosen few, usually after hours with the like-mined. Safe. Kept the mask on to make others comfortable. To stay palatable - and come to think of it - out of all the wild nights I’ve lived and the stories that could ruin reputations.. this is the most vanilla string of my being.

It becomes a real eye-opener when you’re more comfortable being completely naked in a photoshoot than you are at explaining how this gift and how my life actually works out loud.

There is a fear that comes with it, A vulnerability to be seen. That raw. Wholly.

I was terrified, Yeah. Me - Go figure. Permanent foot-in-mouth Jessi, heart on her sleeve, leather in the dark, laughing about sex toys, club nights, designing lingerie and planning parties whilst running channelled sessions and soul contract reads.. I was terrified of how the hell I was going to break this to everyone without triggering widespread panic.

My mind and accuracy already scare friends, clients, strangers enough - let alone letting them know I get access to a cheat sheet. Fuck!

It wasn’t that long ago that I looked one of my closest girlfriends in the eye and said: “You know how im a bit spiritul, right? and i like all that weird shit”

For reference. This girl. She’s one of the greatest loves of my life, My ride-or-die. My oldest friend, The one I should’ve told back when we were teenagers, but wimped out. She was the first one I told as an adult. Almost 20years on. Shit scared. You know the feeling, This stuff? it scares people - especially the ones closest to you. There’s this myth that psychics, seers, channellers.. can read your mind. WE CANT, and honestly? I wouldn’t want to.

I prefer not to use labels - not out of fear, but because of the weight and stigma they carry unjustly.

She looked at me - Deadpan, no hesitation and said: “Yeah. Actually, makes sense”

One sentence - Thats all it took, to feel less afraid of who I’ve always been. From someone who’s seen me clearly, my whole life.

This girl once held my face, screamed at me to listen, & sang Dean Lewis – Alright while I was stuck in the most abusive relationship of my life — begging me to leave, to come home. Her heartbreak met mine that night. That song and her face still haunt me… in the most beautiful way. She’s sat beside me through every dark season. Watched me learn the hard way. Watched me refuse to listen. Watched me choose seriously unhealthy habits. She’s the mirror in my life I find the hardest to face. She was the scariest one to tell.

And fuck — it was a relief.

Didn’t call it woo-woo. Didn’t need a breakdown. Just… got it. Held it. Loved me anyway - It started a rolling ball of motion.

Most common response to my irrational fear after opening up fully publicly?

“Oh yeah! Of course! How did we not know?! You bitch — how did you not tell us!?” Girlfriends laughing, calling me out:

“Fuck, now it’s not so weird that you say things just before I think them.” Then offered to make aluminium foil hats so dinner nights felt safer for all of us.

I’ve been doing this in silence for as long as I can remember. The seeing. The sensing. The knowing. Sometimes I’ll sit at two in the morning and draw a face I’ve never seen before - get a message, write it down draw it. Sometimes it’s for me. Sometimes it’s for someone I haven’t met yet. Sometimes I won’t even know who it’s for until they show up — and I see that same face in front of me. Sometimes I’ll be waiting at the cashier at woolworths — watching how heaviness falls on a nearby woman’s face. Noticing the way her body holds it all. And just wanting to grab her hands and tell her. “It’s okay. I see it. I see you. This rough patch you’re about to enter — it’s just a patch. You’ll make it through.” But there’s a respect to boundaries here. Because unless someone’s awareness is open, unless the soul is ready to hear it, dropping truth bombs isn’t brave — it’s reckless. People are quick to condemn what they don’t understand. Quick to try and out-logic what doesn’t fit inside their frame.

So, admittedly… for a long time? It was just safer to stay in the shadows. Safer to talk about eroticism, about edge, power and play. But the truth is — the most erotic, alchemical thing you can do - is heal the soul.

—

It wasn’t until late 2019 that I started living this unapologetically. Because if I was going to help others so vigilantly — show up for them with everything I had — I needed to show up for myself first.

I tried to tow both lines, knew the path - And the universe? It delivered. Brutally. Divinely. Completely.

The trauma that course-corrected me to one line? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Not even my worst enemy. But I can tell you this: I am grateful. Not for what happened. But for what it opened. Sometimes, it’s not certifications or polished platforms that make you trustworthy. It’s surviving wars. It’s holding your baby in one arm and your broken self in the other. It’s knowing that the person you trust to help you has met their own abyss — and still shows up anyway.

You can only meet people as deeply as you’ve met yourself. And I’ve met myself in every dark fucking room imaginable. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to.

I’m not a dark divine feminine because I think it’s cool. (Although, let’s be honest — it is.) I’m a dark divine because I’ve been dragged through hell… and survived it. I played the good girl my whole life. Kept myself small. Never stood in any space that made others uncomfortable. I dimmed my wild side for years — let very few people into that circle — until I realised the only person I was punishing was me and that I wouldn’t continue to live a double life if I could lead one in full while helping others do the same.

We are not here to live palatable lives.

We’re here to live honest ones.

So if you’re still performing softness for someone else’s comfort — ask yourself who you’re doing it for. And if the answer makes you cringe? Good. That’s the call. Thats why your here.

And if being real makes you too much for someone?

Fuck ‘em! (I mean… not literally. Unless that’s your thing. No judgment.)

This path? It’s not a costume. It’s not a crown. But it is the thing that lets me meet people in their truth. It’s what lets me lay my pain beside theirs and say: “If I survived this? Then fuck — so can you.”

—

For those who’ve known me in the in-between — in the years where I held this quietly, when I helped others without ever naming why I knew what I knew — Thank you for loving me through it. This version of me may feel sharper. Louder. More rooted.

That’s not distance — it’s alignment. I didn’t become someone else.

I just stopped hiding the one I’ve always been. So if no one ever told you this before, let me:

You are the author. The artist. The architect.

You design your blueprint as you go.

And when something doesn’t sit right?

You get to rewrite it.

You’re not too much.

You’re not too late.

You’re right on time.

Welcome in.

I’m so glad you found your way here.

— J.

Priestess of the DDC & DDC Sanctum