The Lineage of Remembrance
A Reflection by Frank Mondeose
I’m living in a world full of noise.
A world where truth is buried beneath algorithms and opinions, where religion has become a sword more often than a sanctuary, and where even the sacred has been sliced into sides.
And still… I long.
Not for answers, exactly. But for something real. Something I can feel in my bones. Something that doesn’t collapse under the weight of history, mysticism, or human contradiction.
So I sit with this question: What can I trust?
I’ve read scriptures.
I’ve touched the myths.
I’ve walked through the fire of heartbreak and the silence of God.
And what I’ve come to believe—not perfectly, but deeply—is this:
There is a pattern.
Not a religion. Not a system. A rhythm.
The Source gives.
We forget.
Love reaches.
We remember.
We return.
I see it everywhere.
In Abraham’s trust.
In Moses’ defiance.
In the whispered tears of the prophets.
In Enki’s quiet rebellion to protect us.
In Jesus’ refusal to fight with force.
In Sophia’s fall—and her aching return to light.
They weren’t preaching the same thing.
But they were pointing to the same thing.
That the Divine never leaves.
That the spark is still in us.
That the journey is always a remembering.
So maybe I don’t need the cleanest theology.
Maybe I just need the courage to live like someone who remembers.
To speak what’s true, even if my voice shakes.
To create what’s beautiful, even if no one sees it.
To choose what’s good, even when it costs me.
That’s the lineage I belong to.
Not a church. Not a tribe.
But the quiet circle of souls who said yes to the ache—and who are following it home.
