Sylvanna Devlin

Materialism as a drive for capitalism is not very healthy and thus gives Attatchment to possessions a bad association. But even the Dali Lama when he was reincarnating through the ages depended on a Rinpoche to recognize him and some of his belonging to touch and remember.

The idea of non psychic psychometry – picking up memories and energy in things, isn’t well known. But many of us handle old things to remember our past. Being attached to  decorations, clothes, possessions of the past actually makes sense in that light.

Photographs are fairly new and for some awkward. They don’t capture the magic of the evening the way a cuff link or jewelry would. As popular examples of small items to keep.

We also, quite naturally, like our comforts. And if we can afford to surround ourselves with items that soothe and add to self care, of course that is also not against any kind of spiritual energy. Indeed it can add to it positively.

Materialism is viewed as negative because it is used to describe those who posses items and purchase goods instead of examining their navel. But leave them be so long as they do not take from others in the process. Let their cycle travel through. It will cause emptiness but it’s their cup to fill.

Should you fall to the material world without any kind of ethical examination you are likely to suffer for it. But not likely to enjoy this book. In the short term, forgive yourself for enjoying purchases and shed guilt, celebrating life and coping with suffering takes all forms of activities. But when you find you can’t buy enough to feel whole, examine your spiritual side and why you buy for comfort.

Do some shadow work. Set up an alter. Pray and donate what you can. If you are an atheist learn to meditate, because Nirvana is waiting for you once you start to help others with your coping. Buy gifts. Donate to shelters. There’s only so much comfort you can purchase before you need to be more generous.

Fill the cups of others and it will fill yours. Some people just like to buy. Do it for other people. End of argument.

This is by who? Oh pick a name, the original, the real, the actual, no really I’m the real original actual and I know the last four digits of my mother’s social security, no really I’m Keith Devlin’s Daughter, no really. I… am clearly a victim of what? Method acting and a few creative embellishments?

No one else wants to be Katherine of Aberdeen because I use it in a book. I could use that. How about I am Melissa Jane Devlin, but you can call me Sylvanna.

I was that fucking Sylvanna everyone took liberties with and this book and three weeks in the hospital was literally the only reason I was sticking around. Everyone worked so hard including the surgeon who saved my life, I can’t let them down now. Besides the real Iris is interested now.

Though now I want a psychology degree and my sister reminded me that I matter separately from being “twiddle pecked”. I have a better reason to cling to life.

Currently from what I can tell everyone thinks I (or we?) were conditioned into being me. Sure, yeah, why not? Because it’s possible everyone else was. But only one of us was the real, actual, original, previously known as etc, so forth. And capable of understanding the earthly world and going into arrhythmia after that. So maybe just maybe this is actually being written by one person and it’s not even that unlikely someone high up saved me because it was one step closer to saving the world. Just maybe someone no one likes but everyone needs.

Or maybe Iris sent a surgeon. Hence my attachment to a Goddess no one knows. But summons a power greater than all of my previous pieces. Fuck yeah. Melissa Devlin is a regular person, Sylvanna is an angel with fae blood existing in the same body. Iris is a fucking goddess! Weird enough for you?

All the ways chosen to discredit, undermine, and steal from me were so vicious so intense there had to be something there. And I’m one smart cookie who. Not that I know the odds of who is saving who off the top of my head, because I’m still recovering from the complications and precursor pain from one hell of a suicide attempt. Week in a coma style. Don’t do that. They will save you. And it will be permanently changing.

The slight rattling in the chest, top left above the breast? We may want to pay attention to because this world is killing us. Frankly if a computer picked me to kill off (As one of the nuttier theories I had) I’d want to find out why. My obsession with Hope probably did it.

What I do I know about this shell game of steal and share, identity theft, gaslighting, torture, rape, and more! It’s weird. What I can say of all that, is no one goes into arrhythmia because they’re writing a book. And no one lives in that shadow world if they can avoid it.

The disbelief in who I was and encountered everywhere was the real reason I had a “fine, fuck you bye” kind of death. Whose last words were “Is my cat okay?” With the last thoughts “No one listens, forget this.” Boom.

You may have tried listening after I woke but I can tell you just plain fucking didn’t believe me anyway. You’d either heard it all before. Or it seems impossible that any of my history could be real.

It’s fucking real.

Depending on what you heard

I actually chose death twice. When I sent the ambulance away and swallowed a whole lot more pills. That didn’t work

Then I gave up on humanity entirely and willed myself to unbalance my heart, and fell asleep permanently as far as I planned. But not the gods. All I can hear right now is “wait, she willed herself into arrhythmia? Fuck her.” And “Why did we bother saving her?”

Because that’s what you say about someone who swallowed enough in a combination that should have been fatal. Like how serious do you want me to get? I chose death twice in one shot, and He basically said “not yet”. So science saved me.

Thus now, the writer, known as Melissa Jane Devlin, known as Sylvanna AKA, Katherine, Michael Weaver, Eli, Nepenthe.. oh never mind I got bored. I’m also a convenient spot for an actual goddess thank you very much. If I need to be I am Iris. Do I need to?

Sometimes, yeah. But I think we all do.

I’m also Tabitha’s mom.

I have a strange life. In the background I hear music “Na Na Na Na” which I first heard in my car and don’t remember why. I had said something. Chosen to have a crush on a Michael not Michaela. Who knows. It sure sounds like quiet chaos and I fell asleep.

Voices argued over whether gaslighting killed me (it did). But they also are a little frustrated that (without describing details), I was greatly amused I might have been too pissed off to stay dead.

My heart stopped. I needed CPR and am nursing a fractured rib from the effort to save my life. I had a breathing tube down my throat. They went in one artery of the leg and out the other in a very intimate spot! They oxygenated my blood because my weak heart would beat but not do anything about oxygen.

That’s a severe level of survival. I woke up a week later in an entirely different hospital. There are records of a conversation with an entirely asleep and pissed off Angel and they simply say – don’t argue with her world view.

I don’t know what she heard. I was unconscious. And probably told her as much. But no one listens to the sleeping person having a conversation in their sleep that the timing is just a bit bad.

I went to nirvana first. Stopped existing and spread out into nothingness. Then I was woken up as a nerve block was going in. Briefly before making it up steps to heaven. A very personal place I was going to be so I could let go again.

But no. After one week skirting death I woke up again. Spent another week in the ICU and then a week recovering at a psychiatric ward.

After that my heart hurt when I moved. Rolling over was difficult. I was in and out of the hospital with complications. And my brain didn’t seem to operate correctly.

One serious “Fine Fuck Everyone” moment. Three weeks in the hospital. Two more months recovering my ability to wriggle in my sleep, I certainly hope everyone now understands Gaslighting kills. Because I ain’t doing this shit again.

Today I’m having a sleepy day as arguments seem to center on my new years plans.

I will be on the Spirit Yacht this 2025 New Years Eve. I picked out an outfit that I need to buy closer to the time as I’m shrinking still. But I have tickets. I am going. I just need to be better enough by then.

It’s good to have goals.

Game Over – under Melissa J Devlin is still available on Amazon. But sometime next year I’m going to finish my spiritual book that even atheists might like.

I probably won’t deal with the fight to go through a regular publisher with game over. Instead focusing on the “The Way of the Wayward Druid”. A working title I might not keep.

Stay tuned for writing updates and pictures of Tabitha:

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