Retrocausation and the Mystic Imagination
The Dance of Time and Imagination
Retrocausation speaks of enigmatic reversals—moments when the future ripples backward through time. It dwells in a mystic twilight, that charged realm where archetypal realities meet the mathematics of modern physics. Such a dynamo of psychic energy disrupts the tidy progression of hours and years, whispering to attuned minds that destiny and memory move together in a single, eternal rhythm.
Quantum theory tells us that the observer and the observed co-create reality. So too, the writer and the written—each summoning the other into being. From that mutual act of seeing, imagination becomes event, and writing becomes a shimmering web of fascination and wonder.
When I embarked on the journey of writing The Unholy, Goddess of the Wild Thing, and Goddess of Everything, I believed I was delving into the archetypal darkness—the collision of the sacred and the profane. Little did I know the novels themselves would begin to anticipate me, a revelation that filled me with awe and wonder.
In Goddess of the Wild Thing, the Quantum Mind revealed itself as the unseen orchestrator—entangling love, fate, and psyche in a single shimmering field where desire becomes both a creative and destructive force. The books were reaching through time, as if they already existed in some radiant elsewhere, beckoning me to catch up. The process was uncanny, alive—a luminous reciprocity between imagination and fate.
Scenes I had not yet conceived appeared in dreams. Symbols emerged in therapy sessions and along desert trails. Readers later wrote describing the same images before they had even reached those pages. The books were reaching through time, as if they already existed in some radiant elsewhere, beckoning me to catch up. The process was uncanny, alive—a mysterious reciprocity between imagination and fate that kept me engaged and fascinated.
Stories, Quantum Mind, and Retrocausation
The more I live and write, the more I sense that both are acts of psychic attunement—immersions in energy fields that defy prediction. To write is to participate in the quantum, to brush against currents that shimmer just beyond anticipation.
It is a thrilling venture into the depths of the mind, where cosmic forces choreograph their own hidden dance. Every word, every image of mystical eros and perilous love, arrives charged with a voltage not entirely one’s own. Characters are not invented so much as encountered—living sigils whose presence forges correspondences between art and life.
Heroines and heroes wrestle with love that pretends to redeem yet secretly consumes. As I wrote their struggles, parallel dramas unfolded in the consulting room: patients drawn by the promise of wholeness only to confront the devouring shadow beneath it. The boundary between fiction and therapy blurred. The stories seemed to bend time itself, sending messages backward, arranging the synchronicities that would make their truths unavoidable.
The Unholy, my first novel, became my first initiation into this quantum dimension of storytelling—a revelation that consciousness is not confined to the mind that dreams, but to the field that dreams through us. What the books would one day disclose was already shaping who I was as I wrote them. Retrocausation had crossed from theory into experience—from page into psyche, from imagination into lived revelation.
Shadow and the Future Self
Goddess of Everything is the darkest of the trilogy, exploring how maternal love can morph into psychic possession—how the instinct to protect can slide into the will to control. In writing it, I felt time folding around me. Dreams from years before suddenly aligned with scenes I had not yet written. The unconscious seemed to be orchestrating events, reaching backward from the future toward the present moment of creation.
To glimpse how the Quantum Mind operates, imagine the Blue Door scenario: You stand in a room facing two doors, one red and one blue. You choose the blue door and walk through it. On the other side, you find a box waiting. Inside is a note that reads, “You will go through the blue door.” In a retrocausal framework, your future choice influenced the message written in the past. This is not fantasy—it mirrors the strange simultaneity of consciousness itself. The psyche, like the quantum field, does not obey linear time. Future decisions, unconscious impulses, and creative acts can reverberate backward, altering the symbolic landscape that led to them.
Writing Goddess of Everything felt precisely like that. Dreams, intuitions, and clinical experiences seemed to anticipate what would later emerge on the page. The novel’s mother-figure—both healer and devourer—revealed herself as a living archetype, shaping not only the narrative’s destiny but also my own psychic evolution. Retrocausation became experiential: the story’s future self shaping its author’s present.
After publication, letters arrived from readers describing the same revelation I had lived: that the book seemed to read them. One woman left a controlling religious order months after finishing it, saying the story had whispered her freedom before she could name it. Such moments demonstrate how art intersects with the same realm as dreams and synchronicities. The novel is not merely about psychic reality—it is a psychic event.
Writer and Readers as Quantum Participants
Writing metaphysical fiction is, in truth, a quantum experiment. Each paragraph condenses a constellation of possible worlds into a single, flickering form. The finished book may already exist somewhere beyond time, sending impressions backward to guide the author’s hand. The novelist becomes both magician and medium, attuning to a signal that originates outside ordinary chronology.
Writing feels less like invention and more like retrieval—as if I am remembering something that remembers me. When readers step into the work, they enter the same energetic field, becoming essential participants in its unfolding. Across the strange continuum of past, present, and future, readers and writers collaborate to summon the story they both need. Lives are affected, dreams emboldened, psyches attuned.
The dreams, emotions, and insights of writer and reader flow back into the text, subtly rewriting its past. The book continues to generate new realities each time it is opened—a living field of correspondence where consciousness meets itself across the folds of time, awakening a deep sense of mutual recognition and connection.
The Living Word and the Time-Fold of Soul
When we allow the mind to enter Quantum Reality, a strange recognition stirs—an awareness that we have seen this moment before seeing it now, dreamed it before living it. What we create in the present may be the echo of something already conceived in the future.
Retrocausation thus opens a new way of understanding inspiration: writers and readers are joined in a timeless collaboration, co-creating stories that live, breathe, and liberate the soul.
The muse whispering through the quantum field may well be one’s own future self reaching backward with a spark of remembrance—sending nourishment from what has yet to be born. Words composed in the past become food for the present; insights rising now become the sustenance of what lies ahead. Through this exchange, consciousness feeds itself across dimensions.
Writing and reading are, therefore, rituals of correspondence between what has been and what will be. Each sentence is a seed cast into the spiral garden of becoming. The psyche writes itself forward and backward, kindling meaning in both directions at once—an ever-turning time-fold of soul.
Live Deeply. . . Read Daily
