Dear Human, You’re Divine.
Written By Tiffany Lee Rice
Welcome!
You came here to remember how to fly.
This life is just a story.
Ready to rewrite it?
Welcome to the weird!
A lot of theology today sounds like it was written by people
who forgot how to dance.
What started as a divine pulse meant to wake us up got warped in a two-thousand-year game of spiritual telephone. “Love your neighbor” somehow mutated into “judge anyone who’s different.” Yikes.
Here’s your permission slip: drop the shame-soaked,
control-heavy programming.
The divine was never the problem, our disconnection was. The message got scrambled like brunch eggs with guilt on the side.
This book is your decoder ring.
We’re reintroducing the divine, not as sky-dads or cosmic cops, but as archetypes, frequencies, living memes. As you.
We’ll wander into what Buddhists call a bhumi (boom-ee), and gently... okay, maybe chaotically... dismantle some spiritual confusion with a sledgehammer forged from truth and glitter.
Pause with me.
What if you didn’t arrive as a blank slate?
What if you showed up carrying traces of divinity, ancient heartbreak, cosmic laughter and agreed to forget it all just so
the remembering would hit harder?
Alan Watts once told a story: the gods, bored and brilliant, decided to play pretend. Let’s forget who we are. Let’s live messy, beautiful lives so vivid we lose the plot entirely.
And boom... you were born. Tiny, new, held in someone’s arms while the world whispered stories about divinity somewhere out there... in the clouds, in temples, in books older than your ancestors. You grew up believing Source lived far away, watching from a celestial balcony.
But then life happened. You learned, stumbled, loved, broke, rebuilt. School hallways, scraped knees, first heartbreaks. And eventually you landed in adulthood... traffic jams, a job that drains you, a 2 a.m. cry-laugh with the friend who always gets you.
And somewhere in all that ordinary chaos, something wild and true was hiding: the gods weren’t out there at all.
They’d slipped inside you the moment you arrived… and promptly forgot they were gods. That’s why the loops felt familiar.
Same patterns. Same ache. Same déjà-vu soundtrack on repeat.
Because you weren’t just living a human life, you were divinity remembering yourself from the inside out.
Plot Twist One: Your loop isn’t punishment. It’s practice. Divinity doesn’t mean floating on clouds manifesting parking spots. It means being here, in your grief, in joy, in karaoke bars, hospital rooms, awkward dates and funeral hand-holds. Forgetting you’re God until you remember.
Most people remember at death. Some remember while alive.
Awakening isn’t glamorous, it’s more like holy whiplash. You realize you’re not just the main character; you’re the writer, director, lighting crew, and the one yelling “action!”
Plot Twist Two: Even after awakening, you don’t get a hall pass. Your soul contract still stands... fame, heartbreaks, weird tattoos, all of it. There’s this liminal stretch where you’re not who you were, but not who you’re becoming. You clean house. Cry oceans. Wake up at 3 a.m. with burning questions. And slowly, you start guiding others through the same metamorphosis. The glow-up is cosmic and inevitable.
Plot Twist Three: The best version of you might look a little unhinged. Mystics call it “crazy wisdom.” You’ll do things that make zero sense until suddenly they make all the sense. You’ll still get sinus infections. You’ll still lose people. But now you’re awake inside the dream and that awareness changes everything.
Because fate isn’t asking how long you lived. It’s asking if you remembered what you are. Know thyself. And thyself… are the gods.
Once that clicks, nothing is random. Lost keys, weird delays, strange coincidences, it’s all choreography. Alignment over convenience. Lag time so that seeds can sprout.
To paint the picture, here’s a split screen of my own story before everything flipped on May 19, 2024:
• Ran for local office and lost by about 30 votes.
• Became a Tibetan Buddhist.
• Cut ties with toxic people, including my mother.
• Reconnected with tarot, astrology, and the unseen.
• Asked for a divorce after 10+ years.
• Thought I wanted a second chance with an ex, but we were just meant to be friends.
• Caught feelings for a married man, walked away, heart in hand.
• Started following the tiny inner voice no matter how strange it sounded.
After the bhumi, everything went sideways in the best possible way:
• Sixteen months deep in shadow work. Ghost mode. Silence so loud it echoed. I didn’t want to be a monk, but life put me in monastic cosplay anyway. I hiked alone, drove alone, ate alone… just me and Roux, my ride-or-die princess puppy cakes.
• Donated nearly everything I owned. Fed people who needed it way more than I did.
• Rowed. Threw pottery. Took swing dance lessons. Bought every vibrator I’d been wanting to try. Fell in love with the symphony. Let myself play in every direction I’d once denied.
• Did things that made zero sense at the time: talked to strangers, followed signs, rearranged my life like some cosmic puzzle.
Then things got weird. Like Tibetan-thangka-brain-melt weird. The image at the top of the page is of the divine cutting through my brain and devouring it.
• Had dreams so vivid they felt like I had stepped into a Marvel universe. One night I even woke up chanting in Sanskrit while holding my double Vajra necklace. Sanskrit is a language I didn’t speak, didn’t study, don’t even pretend to know. It was like my subconscious opened a portal and forgot to close it.
• Every full moon, I made wishes - specific, intentional, sometimes outrageous - and watched the universe answer in the strangest ways.
• Picked up Sanskrit quickly and magically after the dream, like the gods slid it into my brain while I slept.
• Went full witchy: played with herbs, stones, sigils, moon cycles… the whole enchanted kitchen-witch starter pack.
• I dove into words like Alice tumbling down a rabbit hole and realized the alphabet itself is stitched with divinity, just like the days of the week, wearing old gods’ names like secret tattoos. Yes, you can find termas on the internet and yes I am a tertön.
• Had actual conversations with statues. Not like the mouth moved... more like a god’s voice boomed in front of me, clear as thunder, leaving me totally transfixed. Honestly? It was cool as hell.
Shiva owes me a wish.
• I played with herbs and stones like some witchy little gremlin. Every full moon, I whispered my exact desires to the sky and watched the world rearrange itself with suspicious precision.
My brain? Oh, my brain went through the wringer:
• I repeated the same thought loop 400 times a day. Felt like it would kill me. Wished it would when the spiral stretched one inch too long.
• Tattooed my thumbs just to anchor myself, little reminders to keep me from drifting into the void. It felt like the gods kneaded my mind like dough... pounding it, stretching it, reshaping it until the astrology shifted and the messages finally unclenched.
• It’s a bizarre little universe when you’re just trying to poop or get yourself off, and suddenly the gods decide to third‑wheel the moment. Like, if a roommate barged in during that, you’d scream. If a neighbor wandered through, you’d call the cops. But divine beings? Whole different vibe. At this point, there are layers of reality I move through so casually that nothing rattles me anymore. Shock just… doesn’t stick.
And then the impossible:
• I got told things no human should know like where people were, when someone was thinking of me, tiny truths whispered a hundred different ways.
• And when I asked questions? Any questions? I got answers. All of them. Even the ones I didn’t know I was asking. The cosmos treated me like a VIP guest in the universe’s backstage lounge.
On the other side of all of it, I realized something huge: I’m a total badass. Not because I’m special. But because I stopped pretending I was okay being small.
Every single person reading this can do anything I can do. We are family and made from the same stuff.
A little cricket in a top hat once said, “When you wish upon a star…”
Corny? Sure. But he wasn’t wrong. Dreamers aren’t delusional.
They’re tuned in. They always have been.
Welcome to the beginning.
Let’s unlearn, remember, and rebuild the divine... together.
🌈 Dear reader, a note before you dive in!
This book is on a sliding scale because transformation shouldn’t come with a paywall. Everyone deserves access, whether you’ve got a full wallet or just a few coins to spare.
You set the price.
Heads up: on DECEMBER 25TH, this book will be free, because knowledge belongs to everyone.
In the meantime, if you want more, check out my Facebook. I’ve been sharing pieces of the heart of this book there over the past few months.
No matter what you pay, you’ll receive the same book, the same love, the same divinity.
If you read it and feel it’s worth more than what you paid, please drop a love donation in my Venmo.
Here’s what happens with all the money I make from this book:
- I’ll take what I need to live simply.
- I’ll help my friends and family.
- I’ll set aside enough to carry me through the next few years.
- And then, I’m giving the rest back.
Thank you for walking with me through these words. May they spark something bright in you.
Still wearing nothing but good intentions,
Tiffany ✨
About the Author