A Personal Entry from the Edge of Becoming
By Frank Mondeose
There is a strange silence that arrives when you begin to live in the clarity of your soul’s true yes. It’s not a silence of absence—but of shedding. The old archetypes begin to fall away: the performer, the seducer, the rebel just close enough to be admired. I know those skins well. I’ve lived them fully. And they brought gifts. But now they feel tight. Outgrown.
Lately, I’ve felt the resistance ripple around me. A quiet recoil. Some friends wondering if I’ve gone too far. If I’ve become too intense, too spiritual, too political. If the Frank they knew—the fun one, the sexy one, the safe one—has disappeared.
I hear the questions unspoken.
Is he becoming someone else?
Is he about to break off from the collective?
Is he dangerous now?
But this isn’t a descent into dogma. It’s not a performance. It’s a return.
A homecoming to the voice I’ve always carried but rarely let all the way through.
A voice that is spiritual and erotic.
Grounded and visionary.
Playful and prophetic.
I’m not trying to convince anyone. I’m not trying to be palatable.
I’m trying to be real.
And realness, when it’s rooted in soul, will always stretch the nervous system of the familiar.
So if my presence feels different now—if my shares or stances or tone land like fire instead of incense—I understand. But I will not water down what is coming through me to protect others from their discomfort. My reverence no longer hides behind charm.
This is not about rebellion.
It’s about remembrance.
It’s about aligning my voice, my body, and my actions with the current of truth as I hear it.
And letting the rest fall where it must.
I’m not becoming someone else.
I’m becoming fully myself—finally.
And yes, that might unsettle the room.
But if it does, I’m okay with that.
Because I’d rather be misunderstood for living honestly than loved for living a lie.
—Paradise Point, Costa Rica | April 2025
