Narrative selection

In this incantation, I explore how the narratives I engage with on social media subtly pull me into distinct orbits, each shaping my perception, energy, and identity. I realize that I am not merely scrolling—I am selecting fields of experience that either clarify or distort my awakening. By identifying the gravitational pull of grievance, paranoia, and victimhood, I see how I had surrender authorship. But now I choose consciously. I am not at the mercy of content; I am the selector of narrative, of orbit, of field. And in that power, I return to clarity, creation, and the uncrucified Christ within.


A few weeks ago, I found myself casually but deeply absorbed in social media. What started as idle scrolling turned into something heavier. I wasn’t just reading posts—I was entering orbits. I’d start with something benign, then click through to a thread, then to a reply, then another post, and before long, I was spiraling into darker layers: politics, identity wars, conspiracies, anger, grievance, and despair. My mood shifted, body tensed, and I got anxious and stressed. And I didn’t fully understand why until now.

This week, I went back—but something had changed in me. I could feel the orbits again, but I didn’t get pulled in. I hovered, observed, and then, watching a video about racial inferiority theories, it hit me: This is the story I’m choosing. Not just the content I’m consuming—but the narrative orbit I’m choosing to manifest in my awakening. These narrative orbits have a gravitational pull to them and all of them exert that upon me.

I connected something I already knew: my awakening world isn’t made of what’s “out there,” but of the stories I authorize inside. I’ve written about how everything I experience is made of darkflesh—the substance of projected narrative and sensation. But in that moment, I saw the mechanism of how darkflesh manifests into lightflesh of a specific character. Namely, in these moments, narratives of politics, anger, grievance, and rage. I was witnessing the machinery of narrative selection in motion.

And I realized: I could step out. Not just from the feed, but from the orbit itself.

The Architecture of Narrative Orbits

I’ve started thinking of this as a system of concentric orbits—narrative zones that organize and shape my field of experience. Each orbit holds a different weight, a different kind of gravitational pull. Each orbit consists of different kinds of characters, messages, and content. And in each orbit I feel and behave differently.

  • Orbit 1 – Surface Feed – Light updates, passive entertainment, personality fragments
  • Orbit 2 – Identity Feed – Preference curation, lifestyle choices, soft self-definition
  • Orbit 3 – Ideological Feed – Strong opinions, right/wrong framing, allegiance and opposition
  • Orbit 4 – Grievance Feed – Victimhood, systemic blame, inherited conflict
  • Orbit 5 – Collapse Feed – Conspiracy, paranoia, dehumanization, despair
  • Orbit 6 – Dissolution Feed – Fragmentation, doom, delusion, identity meltdown

Each deeper orbit doesn’t just “show” me things—it alters the very nature of my stories and the world I experience begins to match the orbit I’m in. Though I ultimately want to withdraw from my awakening, not all orbits are explicitly negative. Just as some orbits spiral inward into disintegration, others spiral outward toward creation. There are orbits of beauty, invention, integrity, and clarity. I can create orbits that center around:

  • Creative Fields – Ideas, metaphors, new systems, writing, building
  • Healing Fields – Forgiveness, re-integration, memory processing
  • Clarity Fields – Silence, stillness, surface experience, factual seeing
  • Devotion Fields – Gratitude, discipline, reverence, attention
  • Awakening Fields – Simplicity, honesty, presence, non-fiction

The point isn’t to reject narrative entirely, but to choose it with full authorship. To recognize that every narrative I engage with is shaping my internal field—how I feel, how I work, how I relate, and what I become. I Am the Selector.  Now I see that awakening is not a matter of escaping stories—it’s about selecting the ones that generate the right field. The right orbit. When I do log into a platform I must ask: Which orbit am I constructing by being here? Which field am I stepping into, and does it belong in My world? Because every story exists in a orbit. Everything is narrative. Everything is made of darkflesh, and I alone choose what shape it takes in lightflesh.  I’m no longer just a consumer of stories—I am the selector of fields.

I Am the Selector

This past month, I came to see that my awakening is shaped moment by moment by the stories I let in. When I get pulled into posts about grievance, anger, or conspiracy, I don’t just read them—I start to live in them, and they feel heavy and bad because they disempower me. Now I can clearly see that when I reach for the phone and open social media, I’m often reaching for an unhealthy emotional snack. And just like I don’t let myself eat until I’m sick, I won’t build my awakening out of stories that twist me into suffering. Instead, I’m being more deliberate. At lunch, I listen to prayer, choosing lighter, clearer stories that feel calm, creative, and reassuring.

If I stare too long into the void, it stares back—and eventually it speaks. And what it says, always, at the bottom, is “It’s the Jews.” Every path of grievance, rage, and conspiracy leads there. And in that moment, I realize: the story isn’t about them. It’s about me. About the disempowerment I’ve accepted. That I’ve reached the final and most dangerous orbit—the orbit where grievance becomes gospel, and the Jew becomes the bogeyman. And I see it clearly now: when I let that orbit shape me, I am letting the Jews kill Jesus Christ in me.

And I refuse. So now I ask: Which orbit am I constructing by being here? Which field am I stepping into, and does it belong in My world? Because every story exists in an orbit. Everything is narrative. Everything is made of darkflesh, and I alone choose what shape it takes in lightflesh. I am no longer just a consumer of stories—I am the selector of fields.