**Beneath the shadow of a lunar eclipse, Tré Taylor finally steps out of the cosmic closet.**
In this intimate, funny and deeply vulnerable unveiling, she shares the near-death-like mystical experience that transformed her relationship with pain, creativity, consciousness and the divine—and left her struggling to describe colors that do not exist here.
Meet the shiny alien, mystic woman and renegade storyteller who came back different at tretaylor.com

An Eclipse Coming-Out

How Do You Explain Coming Back from the Unexplainable?

By Tré Taylor — with occasional interference from Bleep the Tattoo

Mind & Mysteries • Love • Music • Food • Art • Fun

✦ ─────────── ✦

A NOTE FROM INSIDE THE ECLIPSE
As the full Moon moves through Earth’s shadow, I am using this eclipse as a threshold: a moment to release an old story, tell a deeper truth, and step into the life waiting on the other side of fear.
I have never known how to say this out loud. I still may not be able to tell you elegantly across a dinner table. So I wrote it instead.
This is vulnerable. This is unfinished. This is real.

✦ ─────────── ✦

✨ THE PART I COULD NOT SAY

There is one part of my story I have never known how to tell.

Not because I am ashamed of it.

Not because I doubt that something happened to me.

I have been quiet because our language is too small for the experience—and because once you say certain things aloud, people begin deciding what kind of person you are before you have finished the sentence.

Religious. Delusional. Enlightened. Damaged. Psychic. Traumatized. Chosen. Crazy.

Perhaps I am simply a human being who survived something profound and came back trying to describe colors that do not exist here.

So, during this eclipse, I am coming out.

Not as a guru. Not as a prophet. Not as the newly appointed customer-service representative for heaven. I have already filed several complaints with management, and frankly, their response time is appalling.

I am coming out as something much more honest:

I am a shiny alien who came back different.

Bleep the Tattoo: “Finally. That closet was cramped, and the mothership charges by the hour.”

✦ ─────────── ✦

🌘 I DID NOT DIE IN A HOSPITAL

My heart did not stop beneath fluorescent lights. I did not float above an operating table while doctors fought to revive me. I cannot produce a medical record proving that I crossed an official border between life and death.

But I came back different.

That is the simplest and most truthful way I know to say it.

I participated in a sacred ayahuasca ceremony during a period when I had reached the absolute end of myself. This was not recreational curiosity. I was not looking for pretty colors, spiritual entertainment, or a fashionable weekend with the universe.

I had suffered for so long—physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually—that I no longer knew how to remain inside my own life.

For much of that life, I survived by leaving myself without physically going anywhere. Psychology might call parts of it dissociation, a freeze response, traumatic detachment, or a nervous system trapped in survival.

I did not have those words while it was happening.

I only knew that being fully present inside my body felt unbearable.

I hated being human. It’s grody to the max.

It hurt. It smelled funny. Bodies leaked, broke, aged, betrayed us, and required a frankly unreasonable amount of maintenance. Incarnation seemed like an unnecessarily messy design choice.

Bleep the Tattoo: “One star. Beautiful scenery; terrible plumbing.”

✦ ─────────── ✦

🖤 THEN SOMETHING LAID ME DOWN

During that ceremony, I experienced the presence of what felt to me like an immense, intelligent, maternal consciousness.

Another person may understand her as Mother Ayahuasca, an archetype, the unconscious mind, God, neurochemistry, or something for which we do not yet have a name.

I will not tell anyone what they must believe.

I can only tell you what I experienced.

She laid me down.

I felt as though she were scraping barnacles from me—layers of grief, betrayal, despair, fear, and pain that had hardened around my spirit over a lifetime. Perhaps more than one lifetime. I cannot prove that part either. But that is how it felt.

I had become like an animal caught in an abandoned fishing net: still alive, but so entangled that every attempt to escape only tightened the knots.

Something began cutting me free.

I did not return with all the answers.

I returned without the same fear of death.

And that changed everything.

✦ ─────────── ✦

⚡ THE HARD-DRIVE REBOOT

What happened did not make ordinary life instantly easy.

I still had a body to care for, teeth to save, bills to pay, trauma to understand, bureaucracies to battle, and a van that occasionally reminded me that even God’s disco-ball time machine requires maintenance.

But something fundamental had shifted.

I no longer believed my suffering was the whole truth about me.

I felt released from burdens I had carried for as long as I could remember. It was like a complete hard-drive reboot—but after the reboot, I could not reinstall the old operating system and pretend nothing had happened.

That is one reason I became such a hermit.

I was not merely hiding from the world. I was learning how to inhabit it again.

Van life became my strange sanctuary. Inside my little holographic cave—God’s disco-ball time machine—I finally found enough silence to begin watching what felt like enormous films downloaded into me all at once.

The experience did not arrive as tidy sentences. It came through images, emotions, music, bodily knowing, patterns, dreams, warnings, memories, and moments of startling recognition.

My job afterward was to become quiet enough to receive it, skeptical enough to question it, and patient enough to translate it.

I am still translating.

✦ ─────────── ✦

🔮 BELIEF IS NOT CERTAINTY

I do not know whether I traveled into another dimension.

I do not know whether I accessed ancestral memory, the collective unconscious, a spiritual realm, or an extraordinary capacity hidden inside the human mind.

I have beliefs. I have suspicions. I have experiences.

But I will not confuse certainty with courage.

I am a skeptic by nature. I question organized religion, fashionable spirituality, dark conspiracies, blinding positivity, and anyone claiming to possess the only authorized map of infinity.

Light can become a distraction. Darkness can become an identity. Fear can make puppets of us, but so can the desperate need to feel chosen.

Discernment matters.

I believe wisdom can meet us through dreams, music, meditation, ancient traditions, altered states, intuition, a well-rested brain, a strong cup of coffee—or some mysterious collaboration among them all.

Sometimes an idea arrives sounding like music from another room. I do not need to prove who is playing it before I listen carefully and decide whether it deserves to become a song.

The most honest statement I can make is this:

I cannot prove where I went. I can tell you that I came back different.

Whatever happened changed my relationship with pain, death, creativity, and the divine. It helped me return to a body I had spent decades trying to escape. It made me want to create music again. It made me imagine that survival might become service—and service might even become joy.

✦ ─────────── ✦

🕯️ THERE IS NO RESCUE HELICOPTER

I need to say something difficult.

People often tell suffering human beings to “reach out for help.”

I did. Many times.

Sometimes help mattered enormously. Friends, community, and the woman who started a fundraiser for me helped save my life. I will never minimize that love.

But I also learned the brutal truth that there is no single number, office, doctor, partner, government program, spiritual teacher, or celestial rescue helicopter capable of repairing an entire life for us.

There may be no one coming to save us.

That does not mean we must save ourselves alone.

That distinction is everything.

We need witnesses. We need practical help. We need food, shelter, healthcare, safety, laughter, trustworthy friendships, meaningful work, and communities where asking for help is not treated as failure.

Human beings cannot move from surviving to thriving while their most basic needs remain under constant threat.

Self-rescue is not heroic isolation. It is participating in our own liberation while allowing trustworthy people to help hold the rope.

That is the kind of community I want to build.

✦ ─────────── ✦

💋 DATING AFTER THE EDGE OF EXISTENCE

Now I find myself facing an unexpected problem:

How do you date after returning from the edge of existence?

“I enjoy jazz, beautiful food, long walks beside the ocean and occasionally receiving metaphysical feature films from somewhere beyond ordinary reality. How’s your salmon?”

People want to know whether I’m a Republican or a Democrat.

Darling, I’ve been beyond the veil. Left and right were not on the menu.

If I must declare a citizenship, I’m a naturalized citizen of the beautiful unknown. My platform is love, wholeness, better boundaries, decent housing, extraordinary music—and enough snacks for everyone.

BLEEP THE TATTOO: “She went beyond the veil, asked to speak to management—and somehow got put in charge of entertainment.”

How do I explain that I am still integrating an experience that reorganized my understanding of life? How do I describe the part of me that sees patterns, feels people deeply, and sometimes receives more information than my nervous system knows how to hold?

I do want love. I would love the hell out of the right man. He had better arrive honest, emotionally grown, beautiful to my eyes, and capable of managing his own life.

I am not looking for a rescuer, and I am certainly not auditioning to become anyone’s rehabilitation center with lipstick.

I am the goose with the golden eggs. I am simply learning how to manage the farm.

And if the great love story does not arrive, I will still have music, wonderful friends, delicious food, puppies, kitties, oceans, road trips, and an unreasonable quantity of sparkle.

That is still a beautiful life.

Bleep the Tattoo:“She has completed the solo portion of the program. Auditions for the duet have officially resumed.”

✦ ─────────── ✦

🎙️ THE MYSTIC WOMAN WITH THE CLOWN BRAIN

I once believed my fiftieth-birthday concert might be my farewell.

Instead, it became an overture.

I am still here.

I got myself out of pain. I fought for my body. I restored my mouth when infection threatened my life. I faced the IRS. I found a way to survive on Social Security with a van, a ferocious imagination, and the generosity of people who refused to let me disappear.

Now I am beginning again as an entertainer, storyteller, teacher, Fairy Pet Mother, wandering cook, songwriter, and mystic woman with a clown brain.

My dyslexia and neurodivergence have made conventional writing and scripted performance brutally difficult. I can struggle with what others consider basic while doing things they consider advanced.

That contradiction has followed me my whole life.

My mind is not empty or broken. Quite the opposite: sometimes the database is so enormous that finding a doorway into language becomes overwhelming.

I was an extrovert who never felt safe enough to be fully expressed. I learned to live like an introvert because hiding was easier than being misunderstood.

Now AI has become one of my interpreters. It helps organize what I already carry. It does not manufacture my experience or replace my voice. It helps me build a bridge between the lightning inside me and the words another human being can read.

For the first time, that bridge feels strong enough to cross.

✦ ─────────── ✦

🌌 WELCOME TO MIND & MYSTERIES

I grew up loving late-night radio—the strange callers, unexplained experiences, conspiracies, mysteries, and questions too unruly for daytime conversation.

Some stories were nonsense. Some were marvelous. Some ideas that once sounded impossible eventually revealed pieces of truth.

That is the territory I want to explore.

Mind & Mysteries will not be a church, a cult, or a factory for predictions. I am not interested in demanding belief.

I want to create a curious, provocative, funny, discerning place where people can tell the stories they are usually afraid to tell.

Near-death experiences. Spiritually transformative experiences. Synchronicities. Consciousness. Trauma and healing. Intuition. Creativity. Neurodivergence. Science. Ancient wisdom. Future technology. The possibility that reality is stranger than either the skeptics or believers have imagined.

We will ask scary-good questions.

We will laugh when things become unbearably solemn.

We will separate what we know from what we believe, what we experienced from what we can prove, and leave room for what remains a mystery.

Perhaps it becomes a podcast. Perhaps I never put my face on camera. Radio made mystery delicious without requiring everyone to contour first.

For now, this is my real coming out.

I am not quite a butterfly yet—but I am certainly not a caterpillar anymore.

I am becoming a new creature.

She will probably be very shiny.

There will definitely be snacks.

✦ ─────────── ✦

🦋 IS ANYONE ELSE OUT THERE?

If you have experienced something that changed your understanding of consciousness, death, time, reality, or who you are, I would genuinely like to hear from you.

You do not need perfect language. You do not need proof of infinity in a three-ring binder. You do not need to agree with me.

Bring your story.

Bring your skepticism.

Bring your sense of humor.

My dream is to build a world of stories, music, conversations, practical resources, and community—something that helps people suffer less and live with fresher eyes and a more courageous heart.

I am building my new life one week at a time: growing the Fairy Pet Mother adventures, creating music, telling stories, traveling slowly, and looking for a safe place to land.

This is what I call the Gratitude Tour.

I want to meet extraordinary people, make music along the way, and discover where the next chapter wants to live. I am also building this creative work carefully and sustainably while protecting the modest Social Security income currently keeping me alive.

Maybe no one is coming to rescue us.

But we can come looking for one another.

I am here.

Are you ready to come out and play?

✦ ─────────── ✦

✨ COME CLOSER

If this story made you feel seen, please do one beautiful thing with it:

💌 STAY IN ORBIT

Join my email circle for new stories, music, Mind & Mysteries, Fairy Pet Mother adventures, and dispatches from the Gratitude Tour.

🖤 FUEL THE JOURNEY

If you believe this work deserves room to grow, you can help fund the music, storytelling, travel, and resources I am creating for people rebuilding their lives.

🐾 NEED A FAIRY PET MOTHER?

I offer slow-travel pet and house sitting by referral in the San Francisco Bay Area, with selected holiday openings. If your beloved creatures need a funny little Earth angel while you travel, I would love to hear from you.

MEET THE FAIRY PET MOTHER

Or share this with someone who has been trying to describe the indescribable. Sometimes the most powerful message in the universe is simply:

“Me too. I thought I was the only one.”

With Love, Music, Food, Art & Fun,

Tré Taylor
Bleep the Tattoo
tretaylor.com

Bleep the Tattoo: “She brought the revelation. I brought the emergency snacks.”

I CAME BACK DIFFERENT

An Eclipse Coming-Out

How Do You Explain Coming Back from the Unexplainable?

By Tré Taylor — with occasional interference from Bleep the Tattoo

A NOTE FROM INSIDE THE ECLIPSE

As the full Moon moves through Earth’s shadow, I am using this eclipse as a threshold: a moment to release an old story, tell a deeper truth, and step into the life waiting on the other side of fear.

I have never known how to say this out loud. I still may not be able to tell you elegantly across a dinner table. So I wrote it instead.

This is vulnerable. This is unfinished. This is real.

✦ ─────────── ✦

✨ THE PART I COULD NOT SAY

There is one part of my story I have never known how to tell.

Not because I am ashamed of it.

Not because I doubt that something happened to me.

I have been quiet because our language is too small for the experience—and because once you say certain things aloud, people begin deciding what kind of person you are before you have finished the sentence.

Religious. Delusional. Enlightened. Damaged. Psychic. Traumatized. Chosen. Crazy.

Perhaps I am simply a human being who survived something profound and came back trying to describe colors that do not exist here.

So, during this eclipse, I am coming out.

Not as a guru. Not as a prophet. Not as the newly appointed customer-service representative for heaven. I have already filed several complaints with management, and frankly, their response time is appalling.

I am coming out as something much more honest:

I am a shiny alien who came back different.

Bleep the Tattoo: “Finally. That closet was cramped, and the mothership charges by the hour.”

✦ ─────────── ✦

🌘 I DID NOT DIE IN A HOSPITAL

My heart did not stop beneath fluorescent lights. I did not float above an operating table while doctors fought to revive me. I cannot produce a medical record proving that I crossed an official border between life and death.

But I came back different.

That is the simplest and most truthful way I know to say it.

I participated in a sacred ayahuasca ceremony during a period when I had reached the absolute end of myself. This was not recreational curiosity. I was not looking for pretty colors, spiritual entertainment, or a fashionable weekend with the universe.

I had suffered for so long—physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually—that I no longer knew how to remain inside my own life.

For much of that life, I survived by leaving myself without physically going anywhere. Psychology might call parts of it dissociation, a freeze response, traumatic detachment, or a nervous system trapped in survival.

I did not have those words while it was happening.

I only knew that being fully present inside my body felt unbearable.

I hated being human. It’s grody to the max.

It hurt. It smelled funny. Bodies leaked, broke, aged, betrayed us, and required a frankly unreasonable amount of maintenance. Incarnation seemed like an unnecessarily messy design choice.

Bleep the Tattoo: “One star. Beautiful scenery; terrible plumbing.”

🖤 THEN SOMETHING LAID ME DOWN

During that ceremony, I experienced the presence of what felt to me like an immense, intelligent, maternal consciousness.

Another person may understand her as Mother Ayahuasca, an archetype, the unconscious mind, God, neurochemistry, or something for which we do not yet have a name.

I will not tell anyone what they must believe.

I can only tell you what I experienced.

She laid me down.

I felt as though she were scraping barnacles from me—layers of grief, betrayal, despair, fear, and pain that had hardened around my spirit over a lifetime. Perhaps more than one lifetime. I cannot prove that part either. But that is how it felt.

I had become like an animal caught in an abandoned fishing net: still alive, but so entangled that every attempt to escape only tightened the knots.

Something began cutting me free.

I did not return with all the answers.

I returned without the same fear of death.

And that changed everything.

✦ ─────────── ✦

⚡ THE HARD-DRIVE REBOOT

What happened did not make ordinary life instantly easy.

I still had a body to care for, teeth to save, bills to pay, trauma to understand, bureaucracies to battle, and a van that occasionally reminded me that even God’s disco-ball time machine requires maintenance.

But something fundamental had shifted.

I no longer believed my suffering was the whole truth about me.

I felt released from burdens I had carried for as long as I could remember. It was like a complete hard-drive reboot—but after the reboot, I could not reinstall the old operating system and pretend nothing had happened.

That is one reason I became such a hermit.

I was not merely hiding from the world. I was learning how to inhabit it again.

Van life became my strange sanctuary. Inside my little holographic cave—God’s disco-ball time machine—I finally found enough silence to begin watching what felt like enormous films downloaded into me all at once.

The experience did not arrive as tidy sentences. It came through images, emotions, music, bodily knowing, patterns, dreams, warnings, memories, and moments of startling recognition.

My job afterward was to become quiet enough to receive it, skeptical enough to question it, and patient enough to translate it.

I am still translating.

✦ ─────────── ✦

🔮 BELIEF IS NOT CERTAINTY

I do not know whether I traveled into another dimension.

I do not know whether I accessed ancestral memory, the collective unconscious, a spiritual realm, or an extraordinary capacity hidden inside the human mind.

I have beliefs. I have suspicions. I have experiences.

But I will not confuse certainty with courage.

I am a skeptic by nature. I question organized religion, fashionable spirituality, dark conspiracies, blinding positivity, and anyone claiming to possess the only authorized map of infinity.

Light can become a distraction. Darkness can become an identity. Fear can make puppets of us, but so can the desperate need to feel chosen.

Discernment matters.

I believe wisdom can meet us through dreams, music, meditation, ancient traditions, altered states, intuition, a well-rested brain, a strong cup of coffee—or some mysterious collaboration among them all.

Sometimes an idea arrives sounding like music from another room. I do not need to prove who is playing it before I listen carefully and decide whether it deserves to become a song.

The most honest statement I can make is this:

I cannot prove where I went. I can tell you that I came back different.

Whatever happened changed my relationship with pain, death, creativity, and the divine. It helped me return to a body I had spent decades trying to escape. It made me want to create music again. It made me imagine that survival might become service—and service might even become joy.

✦ ─────────── ✦

🕯️ THERE IS NO RESCUE HELICOPTER

I need to say something difficult.

People often tell suffering human beings to “reach out for help.”

I did. Many times.

Sometimes help mattered enormously. Friends, community, and the woman who started a fundraiser for me helped save my life. I will never minimize that love.

But I also learned the brutal truth that there is no single number, office, doctor, partner, government program, spiritual teacher, or celestial rescue helicopter capable of repairing an entire life for us.