The God Order: Divine Signs & Spiritual Awakening

October 16, 2021 – Began like any other day in my commitment to daily cardio. But something was off; I wasn’t feeling my best. A quiet, insistent nudge within me suggested a change of pace. "Take a nature walk," it seemed to say. That voice led me to choose a hike instead, and the closest trail was Anthony’s Nose. The name resonated with me—it felt like a sign, as if it connected to my brother, Anthony. The drive was uneventful, the air crisp and cool as I parked my car and embarked on this mini adventure. The trail unfolded predictably at first, its dirt path winding through a dense forest. But as I pressed deeper, an unshakable sensation crept over me: I was being watched. It wasn’t a loud fear, but rather a subtle, persistent unease, like an unseen gaze tracing my steps. I paused, scanning my surroundings. Nothing. The forest was still, holding its secrets. Yet, the feeling stayed with me. Pushing through the discomfort, I reached the summit. The view was breathtaking—a ca...

October 12, 2021 – Began like any other evening in my routine, with cardio as my sanctuary—a time to reset, reflect, and reconnect with the world around me. But that night, the universe had something extraordinary in store. As I neared the water, the sight above stopped me mid-stride. Against the vast expanse of a darkened sky, the moon hung low, luminous and full of quiet majesty. Yet it wasn’t just the moon that caught my eye—it was the shape of a cloud, soft yet deliberate, like an ethereal hand stretching across the heavens to cradle the glowing orb. The alignment was so perfect, so uncanny, that it felt as if the sky itself had been scripted. The reflection on the water below only deepened the magic. The moon’s light stretched in a radiant column, mirrored perfectly by the stillness of the surface. The image was breathtaking, a celestial embrace that seemed both natural and supernatural. It was a moment suspended in time, where the boundaries between the divine and the mu...

October 3, 2021 – Was an ordinary evening—or so it seemed at first. As part of my daily routine, I laced up my sneakers and set out for my usual cardio session. Exercise has always been more than just movement for me; it’s a form of meditation, a way to unravel my thoughts and re-center. That evening, the sky was mesmerizing. A canvas of fading light with just enough depth to make you pause. Compelled by my love for photography, I stopped mid-stride and raised my phone to the heavens, capturing a moment that felt worth preserving. At the time, it was simply a beautiful picture. It wasn’t until much later, when my thoughts circled back to the events of that night, that I revisited the photo. And there they were—two glowing anomalies suspended in the sky, unconnected to any discernible object. They weren’t the streaks of an airplane’s path or the blink of a star. Just two distinct lights, hanging there, unexplained. Airplane? Maybe. Something else? I couldn’t say for sure. All I...

January 6, 2021   –  A nother seemingly routine day at the office, though the kind where the undercurrent of something unusual hums beneath the surface. My day ended earlier than usual, a rarity that felt like an unnoticed nudge from the universe. The chill in the air was sharper than expected as I walked, focused on my own thoughts, the rhythm of my steps almost meditative. Then, a piercing sound broke the monotony—a crow’s call. Sharp and insistent, it echoed in the stillness. Before I could process, another joined, and their cries wove together like an urgent symphony. Instinctively, I looked up. Above me, the sky was alive, a tapestry of motion. Black wings, the sheer number of crows—hundreds, maybe a thousand—swept through the heavens like a living shadow. Their cries crescendoed as they moved in unison, a chaotic yet harmonious dance. My breath hitched, the moment pressing heavily on me, though I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t until three years later, on this very da...

June 17, 2020 – Florida’s humid air clung to my skin as I stood outside the Airbnb we had rented. My boys were playing nearby, their laughter a faint balm to the heaviness in my chest. I was trying my best to keep it together for them, but sadness had wrapped itself around me like an invisible fog. Then, a distant hum grew louder—the sound of a plane. I glanced up out of habit, and that’s when I saw it. The plane began to trace words against the expansive blue sky. I squinted as the message revealed itself: “God loves you.” My breath hitched. My heart stirred. The plane continued its aerial writing, this time forming a simple equation: “God + U = 😊.” The sight felt almost surreal, as if the universe itself was pausing to tell me something I desperately needed to hear. In that moment, it was as though God reached down to say, It’s all going to be OK. Camera in hand I was able to capture the scene, the imprint it left on my heart was eternal. It was not the first time I had fel...

May 2020   –   was a year unlike any other, a year when the world felt as though it was holding its breath, teetering between chaos and revelation. Driving through the inky depths of the Florida night, the highway stretched endlessly before me. The rhythmic hum of the car was hypnotic, almost lulling me into a meditative state. The air was thick with a surreal stillness, the kind that makes you feel as if you're on the precipice of something extraordinary. Out of nowhere, the darkness above erupted into something unfathomable. My breath caught. The entire sky was consumed by an enormous presence—vast, pulsating, and incomprehensible. Its sheer magnitude defied logic. The only visible gap in this celestial canvas was an opening in the center, an uncanny shape that my mind could only describe as resembling a Batman symbol. But deep down, I knew this was a feeble attempt by my human brain to rationalize what it could not fully grasp. I was transfixed, a mere speck beneath an infi...

May 24, 2017 – Began like any other day at the office, a predictable rhythm of tasks and breaks. At lunchtime, I stepped outside, the afternoon sun warming the pavement beneath my feet. As I strolled along, my attention was drawn to a small group of insects darting past me. Intrigued, I looked up—and froze. Above me, an astonishing sight unfolded. Thousands upon thousands of bees swarmed in the air, a golden, humming cloud that seemed almost otherworldly. Their collective movement created a mesmerizing dance against the sky, a living symphony of nature’s precision. What struck me most was the juxtaposition of this vibrant display of life with a memory that surfaced almost immediately. Earlier that year, I had read reports of the alarming decline of bee populations, warnings that these critical pollinators were teetering on the edge of extinction. Yet here they were—more bees than I had ever seen in my life, defying the grim predictions. What was even more curious was their beh...

May 14, 2016 – Was a day etched into my memory—not just because of the physical challenge, but because of the moments that felt almost otherworldly. My friend Jesse and I decided to tackle one of New Hampshire's grand peaks in the White Mountains, a test of our endurance and will. When we arrived, the trail we initially planned to take was closed, blocked off by warnings of a recent avalanche. Disappointed but undeterred, we knew the mountains always had hidden paths waiting for those bold enough to look. As we wandered further down the road, a sign tucked away in the shadows of the forest caught our eye. It marked the entrance to a trail, though it was clear this path had long been neglected. The undergrowth had claimed it, with bushes and leaves weaving across the narrow way, creating a near-impenetrable curtain of green. Perfect, I thought. Adventure was calling. We plunged into the dense growth, laughing at how the leaves brushed against us constantly, each step an act of ...

2012 – A night of laughter and chaos, when my life was abruptly shattered beneath the weight of a vehicle. The car struck my leg first, then crushed my chest, and finally rolled over my head—a fact that still baffles me to this day. The human skull, fragile by design, isn’t built to withstand such force. Yet, somehow, I was still alive. The moment the tire pressed against my chest, pain exploded through me. I instinctively tried to push it away, my body fueled by nothing but sheer adrenaline. But then, everything went black. I wasn’t just unconscious—I had left my body entirely. Yet, I was still there. Fully awake. Fully conscious. Not in my physical body, but somewhere else entirely. I could hear the panic around me, the screaming voices of partygoers who had witnessed the accident. We had just left a club, and the night had been alive with energy moments before. Now, chaos reigned. I tried to move, to do something, but nothing happened. I could think clearly; I knew wha...

September 11, 2001 – I lived through a moment that redefined the dream I’d had in 1998. Back then, as a 12- or 13-year-old, I dreamt of being in a building filled with chaos—people running, crying, panicking. I never imagined how closely that dream would mirror reality just a few years later. On that fateful morning, I was a high school student. The day started like any other until I noticed my teacher was absent from class. Curious, I stepped into the hallway to find him. That’s when I saw a group of staff gathered, their eyes glued to the television. At first, I assumed they were watching a trailer for a new movie. I even asked, “When is this coming out?” But the room’s heavy silence and the horror etched on their faces told me this was no Hollywood production. The news title flashed across the screen, shattering any lingering illusion: this was real. Confusion turned to urgency as the school erupted into chaos. People rushed down the halls, crying and panicking. It was then...

1998 – I was a middle school student at PS IS 187, a curious and imaginative 13-year-old navigating life in the Harlem River Park Towers. My home was in Building 20, Apartment 40E, a place nestled in what many would call "the Projects." Yet, to me, it offered something immeasurable: a priceless view of New York City, its glittering skyline stretching out like a living tapestry every morning. Even now, I can’t help but notice the significance of those numbers. The single-digit reduction of 2+4 equals 6, a number rich with meaning. The "E" in 40E always caught my eye too—its resemblance to a reversed 3 added an extra layer of fascination. Together, they made 9, a number that seemed to whisper its importance. These were my observations, small puzzles within the fabric of life. Then came the dream—a dream so vivid, it etched itself into my memory like a divine engraving. In this dream, I found myself in a building filled with chaos. People were running, crying, their fa...