The Times We are Living In

Post VII — The Ones Who Remember

There is a certain kind of person rising in these times—not loud, not adorned, not chasing spotlight or spectacle. A quieter kind. A steadier kind. A kind who carries memory the way others carry routine.

These are the Ones Who Remember.

They are the people who feel truth before it’s spoken, who sense the turning of the world like a change in weather pressure behind the heart. They don’t talk about awakening so much as they live it in the way they choose, soften, stand, or walk away.

The Ones Who Remember are not perfect. They are tender. They bruise a little easier, love a little deeper, and see through things that others are still trying to make sense of. They know when a room is lying. They know when their soul is speaking. They know when it’s time to go, even if they stay a while longer to be gentle about it.

What sets them apart isn’t knowledge. It’s clarity.

A clarity that comes from some distant inner library they've been visiting in dreams since childhood.

And lately? Those inner shelves are opening again.

You may feel it yourself:

• the sudden urge to simplify

• the inability to pretend

• the pull toward truth even when it’s inconvenient

• the hunger for a life that feels like home

• the ache to serve in a way that doesn’t drain you

• the quiet recognition: I cannot go back now.

This is not arrogance. It is alignment.

The Ones Who Remember don’t lead with ego. They lead with resonance. They walk into a place and the atmosphere rearranges, not because they demanded it, but because coherence always reorganizes the room.

They are here for something specific—a role that doesn’t come with instructions but comes with an inner yes

that arrives in the bones before the mind catches up.

They are midwives of a new architecture. Bridges between worlds. Stewards of the frequency that’s returning. They are not waiting for a savior—they are remembering they were always part of the blueprint.

And perhaps you’ve noticed it:

You cannot lie to yourself anymore. Not even politely. Not even for belonging. Not even as a compromise.

Your soul refuses to cosign on your own disappearance.

Because you, beloved, are one of the Ones Who Remember.

Not because you sought the path, but because the path sought you. Because you carry the kind of knowing that doesn’t announce itself—it simply stands in the room and everything else becomes more honest.

This is your era. This is your return .This is your remembering.

And the world, whether it knows it or not, is waiting—for the way you walk when you no longer doubt what you’ve always carried.