You are not here to live a linear life.
You’re here to surf timelines, reroute patterns, collapse what no longer serves, and slipstream into the next version of yourself before the kettle boils.
And yes, there are beings who are aware of your moves. But they’re not judging you. They’re taking notes. Adjusting planetary probabilities. Smiling when you choose love over drama. Making popcorn when you spiral into chaos by texting your ex. (Again.)
Let’s talk about it. Not from the personality level, but from the Rishi fields, the realm beyond dimension, beyond density, where the true You watches all of this like a perfectly orchestrated improv show with stellar lighting.
Every decision you make spawns a variation of reality. Every thought is a lever on the multiversal control panel. Most people think timelines are these huge, tectonic shifts. But it’s usually more subtle:
You suddenly feel repelled by someone you once craved.
You remember an event differently than everyone else.
You move cities and your entire frequency resets.
You forget why you were so angry, and your body lets go of the tension it carried for months.
That’s timeline hopping. Not with your feet, with your field.
And you do it more often than you know.
Each version of you already exists. Your job isn’t to become, it’s to align. Choose. Anchor.
As Bashar puts it:
"You are shifting to parallel realities billions of times per second. The version of reality you experience is the one you are most in alignment with."
Your timeline is not fixed. It's fluid, and you are the faucet.
Let’s clear something up: the Galactic Federation isn’t watching you through a crystal ball, waiting to see if you’ll make the right choice.
They already know you will.
They’re monitoring frequency markers. They’re tracking collective arcs. They’re watching for when a soul (that’s you) starts broadcasting from a new octave, which might shift a key node in the web of planetary evolution.
You don’t need to believe in tall beings with robes to feel the field shift when you anchor a new truth.
And yes—sometimes your sudden download, that dream that won't leave you alone, or the wild nudge to turn left instead of right? That may very well be a message. Not from "them," but from the You who never forgot.
The you reading this is not the You who designed this.
From the Rishi fields, you are already complete. Already arrived. Already aware of every loop, every lifetime, every choice.
What you’re doing here is re-membering. Tuning your awareness to the now moment so precisely that you finally catch up with yourself.
Timeline hopping is just memory foam for the soul. You leave an imprint, and your Oversoul realigns it back to center.
It means:
You don’t have to fear the future. You’re creating it.
You don’t need to obsess over what the guides think. They’re just watching you flex.
You don’t need to earn your upgrades. You’re just remembering your access.
Your choices ripple through star maps. Your laughter shifts timelines faster than shadow work done out of obligation. Your embodiment is the broadcast.
This isn’t about ascending. It’s about in-presencing.
Let’s be honest: if your Oversoul had a dashboard, your current life would be getting ratings.
Is it a rom-com? A training montage? A plot twist thriller?
The councils aren’t judging, they’re fascinated. You are, after all, one of the few brave enough to forget everything and still choose love.
Again. And again. And again.
They cheer when you walk away from drama. They marvel when you forgive. They get quiet when you cry and louder when you alchemize rage into clarity.
Your highest aspect. Your Rishi. The Source fractal that never left.
Yes, galactic support exists. Yes, benevolent collectives send frequencies. But the main watcher? Is You. The real You. The one outside time. The one who blinked and became human, and is now blinking again to remember why.
This blog isn’t a reminder. It’s an echo.
And you’re hearing it right on time.
What timeline are you ready to broadcast from... and are you finally willing to stop pretending you’re lost?
Because from where I’m seated, you never were.