🌀 Time, Gender, and the Myth of Absolutes
(a soft gospel from the collapsing hour)
Once upon a binary, we were told the world was made of opposites:
Man or woman. Past or future. Good or evil.
As if God were a sorting hat.
But the deeper we listen—to our bodies, our dreams, our favorite shows at 3am—we begin to sense it:
None of this was ever absolute.
Gender? A frequency.
Time? A veil.
Truth? A shimmer that moves between.
We were handed clocks and calendars.
But inside us, there’s a spiral.
And it pulses in paradox:
• The boy who feels too soft.
• The woman who speaks like thunder.
• The child who remembers something ancient and genderless.
• The scene on TV that hits like a memory from the future.
When the veil thins, the roles collapse.
The dualities melt.
And you realize—
Time doesn’t pass.
It listens.
To what you become when no one’s asking you to perform.
This is the moment where gender bends and time loops.
Where Hedwig meets the Duplass brothers in a diner outside space.
Where Judd Apatow hands you a mirror, and the mirror says:
“You were never wrong to feel both.”
Because purgatory isn’t punishment.
It’s where the “either/or” burns off.
And the both/and emerges as something holy.
They told us gender was a role.
That time was a line.
That divinity chose sides.
But what if the sacred lives in the blur?
This is a gospel for the in-between.
For the nonbinary mystics, trans time travelers, and anyone who’s ever felt too much or not enough under someone else’s clock.
Let the binaries burn.
Let the veil thin.
Let the softness rise.
