Every Time I Evolve, You Get Afraid
By Frank Mondeose
Every time I evolve, you get afraid.
When I stepped into the world of sensual performance, people who loved me recoiled. They whispered warnings behind my back, projecting their discomfort with eroticism as if it were a disease. They feared that freedom meant recklessness. That pleasure meant corruption. That desire meant the end of my marriage.
Then I answered another call. I went deeper. I entered the sacred temples of the body and learned to work with energy, trauma, love, and shadow. I trained, I apprenticed, I poured thousands of hours into the field of healing—over 7,000 hours, 75 immersive trainings, more than 2,000 souls held in safety, tears, and holy remembrance.
And still, the whispers followed. “It’s a cult.” “He’s gone too far.” “He’s dangerous.”
No one said those things in the temple, though. Not the ones who came to heal. Not the ones who wept and howled and remembered who they were beneath shame. They met me in the depth. They saw the work. They left changed.
Then, I stepped forward again. I lifted my eyes to the systems that keep us sedated and blind. I spoke up. I critiqued the culture. I brought politics and propaganda into the spotlight, and again—they panicked. “He’s radicalized.” “He’s fascist.” “He’s on the fringe.”
And now, I return to scripture. To the prophets. To the living word. Not as a preacher, but as a seeker. Not to preach dogma, but to find the thread that connects breath to God to humanity’s heart. And once again, I feel the pulse of fear. “He’s becoming a fundamentalist.” “He’s turning religious.” “He’s leaving the path.”
But here’s what I want to ask you:
What is it in you that trembles every time I say yes to something new?
Is it truly fear of what I might become, or is it grief over who you haven’t allowed yourself to become?
Because I don’t need your permission. I don’t need your comfort. But I will not reject the mirror you offer.
Your fear doesn’t define me. But it teaches me.
It teaches me how deeply we’ve been conditioned to fear change. It reveals how quickly admiration can turn to suspicion when someone walks off the beaten path. And it confirms that the moment you embody your next truth, you’ll threaten anyone still hiding from theirs.
So yes, I’ll continue to evolve.
I’ll burn through every projection.
I’ll make my devotion public.
I’ll love in ways that confuse your categories.
And I’ll walk with prophets, with politicians, with pleasure, and with God.
You’re welcome to come. Or not.
But I won’t stop walking.
