Welcome to the age of enDarkenment.

Where dark is the new light,

genius is in our bones,

and disruption is the way we love.

Lorna is the “Dark Genius.” A thought leader, coach, mentor and rule-breaker who

teaches people how to “have the confidence of a God and walk the world with

unreasonable, unruly, unholy power.”

Her work is powerful, bold, transcends gender, and is confronting, enigmatic,

mysterious, compelling, utterly unique and impossible to define.

Her clients are misfits: successful but searching for their true power. They are

attracted by Lorna’s promise to teach them how to be enormous. They are NOT

attracted to the conventional.


My work is this: Turn humans into channels of the divine.

It’s what I do every day: Wake up and turn humans into gods.

And I couldn’t do it if I didn’t fully embrace the gift of being bipolar, which I’ve come to deeply appreciate as my greatest blessing. It made me a millionaire in less than a year and has made my clients over a million dollars in their businesses, as well as unleashed their psychic and intuitive gifts and in several cases eliminated “incurable” physical conditions and mental illness symptoms.

It wasn’t always this way. Just two years ago I was broke, suicidal and recovering from my second nervous breakdown; a single mom of 44 being financially supported by my parents while I underwent psychiatric evaluations to finally figure out what was “wrong” with me and get it fixed, once and for all.

I was diagnosed with bipolar II and PTSD, on top of my pre-existing diagnoses of severe mood and anxiety disorder and two types of ADD, and told I needed to go on medication to stabilize.

I said no.

Repeatedly.

I knew my bipolar was a gateway to great spiritual insight and awakening, and if I took those little white pills my doctor was trying to prescribe me, I’d be medicating my gift away.

Yes, it was freaky and terrifying to go against the entirety of western mental health in refusing medication. I’m not stupid. I was quite aware that I was a diagnosed mentally ill woman—by definition not in my right mind—making a decision with my mind, about how to handle my mind, that went against my very well-meaning, highly competent psychiatrist with a whole lot of letters after her name.

But that had been the heart and soul of my problem my whole life, you see. Listening to other people tell me what my problem was and how to fix it.

If you’re a natural spiritual channel, with potent streams of high-octane energetic content streaming in to your awareness on a near-constant basis, that’s gonna make you act and look and feel and appear … threatening. Weird. Intense. Overly dramatic. Rebellious. Impertinent. Abrasive. Impudent.

CRAZY.

That’s what they call you when you’re a kid.

By the time you’re an adult, the terms cut deeper.

Harsh. Cold-hearted. Cruel. Disturbed.

It wasn’t until I took myself through a rapid spiritual awakening, fully opened my channel and activated my psychic and intuitive gifts that I realized why I was perceived that way (and still am, by some).

I’m a TruthTeller. A carrier of the cold, hard truth that slices through illusion, eviscerates fear and drops the carcass of a crippling consciousness on the floor so that the great hidden god within can finally step out.

Yes. My mentoring style is unusual. And exacting. And terrifying. That’s also why it’s the most activating, miracle-inducing, time-collapsing, genius-unleashing, success-making, legendary mentoring around.

The truth is I have a huge heart for people. For their inner god, not so much for their limited, myopic, narrow-minded human. I’ll do anything to kill their human consciousness, actually, so that their inner god can finally have full reign.

I call that having a dark heart of gold.

I say and do things no one else ever would have the balls, or the insight, to say or do. And because of that, my client’s lives and businesses change in a matter of weeks. They collapse lifetimes of personal growth into months and a year’s revenue into a few weeks.

It’s miracle-making stuff, Truth. And I wield it with a swift, sharp sword and a lot of love.

A client asked me recently what it means to be bipolar.

I said it means to be blessed with no ceiling in your mind or floor to your fear.

I use this gift every day in my work, because in order to turn humans into channels, you only need to do two things: blow the top off their mind so their own SuperConscious can flow freely in, and then blow the floor out of their fear so they can deliver that rich, potent mixture of spiritual insight and creative expression — the true marriage of spirit and soul — into the world with the unwavering confidence of a god.

And make an insane amount of money doing it.

Since money is masculine energy and genius is feminine, money is naturally blueprinted to flow toward genius, and that means when you become a channel of your own spiritual and creative gift, you not only elevate your experience of yourself to that of an archetype and superhero with adamant powers, you also make a lot of money.

Without the struggle or hustle.

My clients do not work hard. I challenge them to reduce their hours to no more than 20 a week.

As they increase their sales, 5x - 10x their revenue and skip to six figure months in 90 days.

So, yes. I teach sales mastery.

And yes, I do it by curating their consciousness so that it flows through their minds, finally set free from limitation, which often means being freed from the tyranny of their own bipolar and mental illness conditions.

My mission is to turn the world into one great freak show of genius, spiritual mastery and consciousness creation.

And to do that, humans have got to put down their pet project: the search for their worth and purpose.

Gods and archetypes do not spend time doing affirmations, meditating and balancing their chakras in the hopes of attaining the elusive state of inner peace and worthiness.

They’re too busy inventing worlds.

It’s time we humans put away the quest for the objective measuring stick of personal usefulness and value and stop trying to answer the question: What’s my purpose?

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I’ve got news for you. You have none.

You’re more like this painting of a pool and two guys and a mountain range that just sold for $90.3 million at Christie’s than you are, say, a hammer, which has an obvious and straightforward use, and which, unless it’s made out of gold or crystal, is gonna be right around $6.97 (in the States anyway).

Unless it’s an Eastwing 16 oz. straight claw hammer. In which case it’s closer to $20.97.

But still. In the range of reasonable.

If you’re a hammer, your usefulness—your ability to produce an outcome—is clear right from the beginning. It’s WHY you were made.

People had all these nails and no way to get them through a piece of material. And so you were invented.

And your purpose determines your worth. Your usefulness dictates what the collective consciousness is willing to pay for the outcome you can clearly produce.

But I’m just wondering: What outcome does a work of art produce, exactly?

What if you have the distinct curse of having been created just to sit around and be utterly and incomparably yourself?

Just hang on a wall, say?

While people observe and experience you all day long.

What’s the usefulness in that?

Why, in other words, do humans—obsessed with clear use and inherent value—create art of all things?

There’s all these useful things...and then art.

All these reasonable and practical and reliable and dependable things, all of which nicely fit and relate together in terms of their value and cost....and then there’s art.

Pools.

And then paintings.

And then pools that are painted and then something suddenly happens and all the concepts of relational value and usefulness and cost just hurl out the window and soar right over that distant mountain in that painting there.

And the work of art is alone. Alone drifting in a sea of nothingness. No inherent worth or value. No clear purpose.

If works of art were people, I bet they’d be really fucking depressed.


Yep. That’s why everyone’s addicted, medicated and killing themselves. Why suicides were twice the number of homicides in the U.S. in 2016.

Works of art are killing themselves out of an incessant, desperate search for an inherent worth and purpose that does not exist.

It’s time to put down the three hours every morning of spiritual practices all of which are geared to helping you connect to your objective usefulness and value because it is absolutely as absurd as a painting doing affirmations so it can feel as connected to the grid of relational value and purpose as the hammer does.

You have no inherent purpose.

You have no inherent worth.

Your genius—the essence of your highest creative expression and your spiritual calling—is worthless to most and priceless to a few.

Once you realize your greatest value is to provide the incomparable experience of your energy to others, and that most will find it not at all worth their time and a select few—your stark raving mad fans—will gladly spend exorbitant amounts of time and energy for the privilege of the powerful transformation that happens when they’re in your natural field, your incessant search for self worth, purpose and value ends, because you realize how ridiculously absurd it is.

“Portrait of An Artist” doesn’t worry about its worth. It doesn’t spend hours every week meditating to try and calm its super-anxious mind and lift its self esteem.

Maybe the artist did. But if so, that’s just because he’s grown up on the Light Grid, where everything is linked to each other through usefulness and value and the ancient illusion that we are not gods.

That’s silly. It’s time for that illusion to die, and I’m here to slit its throat.

Welcome to my world, where killing you is the way I love.

Lorna J.


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