The Hidden Knowledge

Stillness: The Great Remembering

I am done.

Done with being fed lies about reality.

Done with the hijacked narrative of God as a distant jealous tyrant on a throne, demanding obedience in exchange for salvation.

Done with the gaslighting of humanity—where truth is twisted, the miraculous is mocked, and the sacred is desecrated.

Do not tell me that we are the most evolved civilization ever to walk this Earth; when evidence of ancient, awe-inspiring architecture predates our known history—precision-cut monoliths, star-aligned megaliths, technologies we still cannot replicate.

We cannot even recreate the Great Pyramid of Giza with today’s tools.

So who built them?

How?

And why are we not allowed to ask?

Why are parts of the Grand Canyon off-limits?

Why do armed black ops helicopters fly over my home after an alien or cryptid encounter?  Why are they guarding stretches of desert where ancient civilizations once thrived, underground bases and arctic poles?

Why is the truth always hidden behind classified files and ridicule?

Don’t tell me spirits, interdimensional beings, cryptids, or alien presences are fantasy when I know them. They’re not fantasy—they’re censored reality.

We’ve been conditioned to look away, to self-police our own knowing, to dismiss the very phenomena that point toward a deeper truth.

We’ve been programmed to believe that reality is only what can be measured, monetized, and manipulated.

And all of it serves the same lie: control.

Don’t talk to me about transparency in government when corruption rots from the inside.

When taxpayer money funds deep underground military tunnels and experimental programs no one talks about.

When human lives are traded in silence for rituals, experimentation, power, data, and for domination.

Don’t preach to me about freedom when we are taxed to live on land we supposedly “own.”

When our labor, our health, our children, and our thoughts are all for sale. 

Don’t tell me I need a jab because my body is sick and doesn’t know how to heal itself.

Don’t tell me that animals are not sentient and can therefore be abused and slaughtered.

Don’t tell me that nature is expendable, non-intelligent and unnecessary to our being.

Don’t tell me that there aren’t dark governing forces that know that the greatest slave is the one who doesn’t know they’re enslaved.

We work for food. We work for shelter. We work for time. We work for life.

And we are told to be grateful.

But we are not the property of governments.

We are not the inventions of ancient alien engineers.

We are not sinners in need of salvation.

We are not broken.

We are sovereign.

We are not less than.

We are nature.

We are life itself.

And that is what they are terrified of us knowing.

Because the truth is:

We are divine.

We are sovereign.

We are powerful beyond imagination.

The true God—the Source—is not an entity with an ego.

It is not the being from religious texts who says, “Let us make man in our image.”

Us?

Who is us?

This is not a monotheistic god. It is a council, a race, an agenda masquerading as divinity.

No, the true Source cannot be named.

It cannot be claimed.

It cannot be contained in scripture, in doctrine, or dogma.

It is the Tao.

The Way.

The silent current that flows beneath all things.

The Tao does not command.

It does not punish.

It invites.

It whispers through the soil, through the seed, through the rhythm of the tides.

It calls to us in stillness.

This is the path back.

Back to nature.

Back to our truth.

Back to wholeness.

To follow nature is not to regress. It is to remember.

It is to learn again how to listen—deeply, reverently—to the land.

To walk with the seasons, to grow with the cycles, to see the sacred in the soil.

To live in harmony with the mycelial networks that feed the forest floor.

To recognize the trees as ancient elders—who bend, give, root, and rise without demand, without ego, and even in death, continue to nourish their kin.

To recognize the Divinity of water and light that is the very essence of the true Divine intelligence that connects us all together in this beautiful thing called life.

This is divine intelligence.

And we, when we return to that rhythm, when we step out of the brain’s loops, out of the heart’s conditioned yearning, we begin to remember something holy.

We do not find truth in thinking.

We do not find truth in feeling.

We find it in stillness.

For even heart/brain coherence is transcended by the Divineness of the stillness where true reality lies.

Stillness is not absence.

It is not numbness or void.

It is not doing nothing.

Stillness is everything.

It is the zero-point.

The gateway.

The pulse of the entire universe coiled in a single breath.

In stillness, we meet the Source.

In stillness, every cell remembers its design.

Every illusion falls away.

There is no religion, no government, no alien intelligence that can surpass the power that lives in the stillness.

This love—the one we’re all seeking—is not emotion.

It is energy, power.

It is pure presence.

It is what makes the rose bloom, the seed sprout, the baby form from a spark.

It is the Tao, and it creates by being.

You cannot take it.

You cannot earn it.

You can only align with it.

And when you do—

When you become still—

You remember who you are.

You are not a citizen.

You are not a sinner.

You are not a cog in the machine.

You are creation itself.

And that’s why they try to keep you distracted.

Because if you were to truly be still—

If you were to stop seeking, stop doing, stop running—

And listen to the sacred silence that lives inside all things—

You would become unstoppable.

Because you would remember:

You are the microcosm of the macrocosm.

You are everything.

And yet, you are no-thing—

And that no-thing is the womb of all that is.

So let us remember what Wendell Berry said:

“There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.”

And it is not nature that desecrates.

It is humanity—through ignorance, through ego, through severance from Source.

But nature always restores.

She will shake.

She will burn.

She will flood.

She will cover and begin again.

And if we do not awaken, she will start over without us.

There is no alien, no god, no government stronger than the Tao.

There is only one true power:

The still, silent, sacred force that moves through all life.

So be still.

And know.

That you are that.

The Stillness of the Tao: What Horses Have Shown Me

Living, being and working with horses—these powerful, sovereign beings who could, in an instant, trample a person underfoot—has been one of the most profound spiritual teachers of my life. Stallions, mares, and geldings alike have taught me a truth that no book, no religion, no philosophy ever fully conveyed: that stillness is the key. Stillness is the doorway. Stillness is the answer.

These animals, despite their immense strength, are not ruled by force. Instead, they are governed by energy, by subtlety, by the invisible threads that weave together the seen and unseen. Horses mirror their environment. They are sovereign souls, each with their own intelligence, desires, and feelings, and yet they are extraordinarily sensitive to the energy that surrounds them. Any disruption—whether it’s a human’s unresolved emotion, a sudden sound, an invisible shift in the Earth’s geomagnetic field, a solar flare, a seasonal transition, or even the presence of an interdimensional being—can ripple through a horse’s awareness.

Through years of being with them, observing them, learning from them, I have come to see that stillness is the key to everything: calming them, healing them, teaching them, aligning with them, communicating, riding, building trust and relationship. No technique compares to the power of being fully present in the now—in the stillness.

This isn’t stillness as inactivity or passive waiting. This is the stillness of the Tao—the wu wei, the effortless action, the surrender to the flow of all things. This is the stillness that births galaxies, that opens the seed into the sprout, that creates the harmony we long for but rarely touch. In working with horses, I didn’t seek enlightenment. I was simply trying to understand them better, connect with them, work alongside them. But in doing so, they revealed to me the truth of reality: that everything we are seeking—peace, healing, love, clarity, purpose—is found in that still point of stillness. They have taught me to experience the Tao for myself as I navigate through life and experiencing such depth of sadness through trauma loss, relationships, and judgment from society and family.

There is no way to bypass this. There is no technique, no belief system, no external authority that can replace the direct experience of this sacred stillness. You cannot fake it. You cannot think your way into it. And once you have truly entered it—once you have tapped into that infinite still point that the Tao speaks of—you can never see the world the same way again.

Anyone who tells you otherwise has not yet entered the stillness.

You can’t explain this to someone and expect them to understand. You can only invite them to experience it for themselves. And that’s what horses have done for me. They’ve invited me into a reality so profound, so alive, so clear and luminous, that it has reshaped my understanding of everything.

They are more than animals. They are sacred mirrors. They are teachers of the Tao.

When the Horse Meets You in Stillness

Through years of living among horses—breathing with them, walking beside them, grieving and rejoicing with them—I have come to know something far deeper than training, care, or companionship. Even before they physically came into my life, I dreamt of them. I felt their presence in my bones, as though they had always been a part of my destiny. And now, looking back, I see that this path was always unfolding. That my children, too, were given this sacred gift—of growing up in the presence of these sovereign beings—is a sweetness beyond words.

Living with horses has not only deepened my understanding of life but has made the unseen world more real to me than the one we’re told is real. I have communed with spirits—human, animal, elemental, and those from realms beyond this Earth. Beings that some might call cryptids or aliens, I have encountered as part of the natural fabric of existence. The world I inhabit is vast and alive, multidimensional and deeply interwoven. It is not the world defined by society, government, religion, or education. It is something far more ancient, truthful, and free.

I cannot live within the box built for humanity. I cannot pretend that reality is what we are told it is when I have touched something far greater. And though I have been criticized, judged, even mocked by family, peers, and the world at large, I have found something that those institutions cannot offer: peace. Deep, abiding peace—and joy.

But it’s not because horses “accept” me. Animals do not blindly love or accept you the way sentimental stories might claim. Nature, animals, horses—they only recognize you when you have recognized yourself. They only see you when you have truly seen yourself. And that moment of recognition—that mutual knowing—only happens in stillness.

Not passivity, not silence, but the sacred stillness that emerges when you are fully present, when the ego dissolves, and you align with the Tao. When you arrive in that place, when you are attuned, the horse meets you there. And you feel it. You feel them say, without words, Yes… you’ve arrived.

It is not obedience. It is not training. It is not technique. It is a communion, a sacred trust. And when a horse rises above its instinct—when it moves from flight or fear to trust—that is not an accident. That is a miracle. That is alignment. That is the Tao.

This alignment cannot be forced. It cannot be held or possessed. It must be practiced, cultivated, lived. It becomes part of you through humility, through devotion, through a continual return to the stillness. Anything outside of that—any interaction based on dominance, fear, or agenda—is, in truth, a form of slavery. Compliance is not partnership. Obedience is not truth. Only in the stillness is the relationship real.

So many people say, I want a horse so I can ride. But I never wanted that. I wanted to be with horses because I knew, from the depths of my being, that they could show me reality as it truly is.

To teach these ways to another requires far more than knowledge or skill. It requires a total surrender of ego. The person must genuinely desire truth. They must ignite that divine spark within themselves—not for performance, not for prestige, but because they are seeking something real, something eternal. And even then, no one can enter the stillness for them. Just as the horse cannot walk into that sacred space on your behalf, neither can any teacher, no matter how wise. We must each walk that path alone, into the stillness.

I am endlessly grateful to the horses for guiding me to this truth. There is no book, no philosophy, no scripture that compares to what they have taught me—what they are teaching me. Their lessons are not linear. They do not begin or end. This path is a living journey, one with no final arrival.

And yet, in those moments when we do arrive—when stillness opens to us—we find that it is beyond time, beyond space, beyond form or name. It is not a destination. It is not an experience. It is everything. It is reality itself. It is the truth.

And it is the only thing that matters.

Why Chevalia has closed its hands-on programs

Chevalia was created as a sanctuary, a living prayer—where people might come to learn how to be with horses. Not how to use them, or even partner with them in the way that word is often misused—but how to be in reverent relationship. Our programs were designed to help others enter that sacred space of mutual respect, cooperation, and humility. To invite people into relationship rooted in integrity, authenticity, responsibility, and surrender. But over the years, we have discovered something difficult and painful: most who seek out horses, even with the best intentions, do not truly wish to surrender.

They want the horse to submit.

They say they want to understand the horse—but they do not want to do the inner work required to truly know them. They are not willing to dissolve the self they’ve constructed—the identities, the stories, the ego structures—long enough to meet the horse in truth. The horse is not a tool. The horse is not an accessory. The horse is a divine messenger. The horse is the very symbol of our sovereignty, of our eternal freedom. The horse embodies the spirit that is unbound by time, by form, by death.

And I have seen this with my own eyes.

Through great loss—loss of beloved horses, of dogs, cats, birds, and most painfully, the sudden departure of my husband—through grief that bent my soul and broke my heart open, I have seen what the horse came to show me:

That death is illusion.

That endings are not real.

That in the stillness, when all else falls away, when the body fades,

only the real remains.

And that realness is eternal.

It is only through trauma—through the stripping away of everything we thought we were—that most people are even willing to enter the stillness. When all else is gone, when there is nothing left to hold onto, the stillness is all that remains. That sacred stillness is not a technique. It is not a guided meditation or a ritual or a program. It is the Divine Presence that emerges when we finally surrender.

But most do not want to surrender.

They speak of it.

They perform it.

But few actually enter it.

And this is why we no longer offer in person programs. Because to bring people into the presence of these sacred beings when they are not truly willing to face themselves is not only a disservice to the humans—it is a betrayal of the horse. Only a rare few are truly ready. Not because they are better or more spiritual, but because they are willing to dissolve. They are willing to die to the false self. They are willing to let go of all identities, of every story they’ve clung to, of every title or role they’ve tried to maintain in this world.

They are willing to become naked in the presence of the horse.

No halter. No rope. No tools. No dominance.

Only presence.

And in that presence, the horse meets you. But only there.

We have learned that anyone, anywhere, can arrive at this place. You do not need to travel to the Himalayas. You do not need to devote your life to monasteries or mantras or methods. The sacred is within you. The way is already here. You need only to let go.

But the horse is a catalyst. The horse is one of the Great Masters.

All of nature holds the same wisdom—the trees, the wind, the rivers, the sky, the moss that grows in silence—but their teachings are subtle. Dogs and cats are masters too, but they have become too easily manipulated, too domesticated, too controlled. Horses, though also enslaved by humanity, still command presence by their very size. You must become aware in their presence. You must return to your body, your breath, your boundaries. And when a horse is unbridled, when they stand with you in complete freedom, they will not meet you unless you surrender completely.

To be in the space of a free horse, with nothing between you—no reins, no tools, no control—is to be brought to your knees in reverence. It is to remember the deepest humility. It is to touch the sacred. And to subject our horses to the energy of those who are not willing to go there, who are not ready to meet themselves, who still seek control or achievement or approval, is a violence we can no longer allow.

We have tried. We have hoped.

But the truth is, very few are truly ready.

The ones who have come closest to understanding have not been the experts, the trainers, the seekers of prestige. The ones who have touched the stillness most easily have been the children—especially those who have known pain. Children rescued from abuse, children who have felt what it is to lose everything—these children are often the most open. They carry a readiness within them, a longing for truth. They do not need to be convinced. They only need to be loved, and they meet the horse with a purity that few adults can access.

But even then, it can be too much for the horses.

Because these children, like the horses, are sensitive, open, and vulnerable.

And that is why we no longer offer hands-on programs.

Many have asked us to continue. But we cannot, in good conscience, do so.

It is not a question of worthiness. It is not judgment. It is simply truth.

Few are truly ready to face themselves.

To face your Self means facing the dark night of the soul.

It means encountering the parts of you you’ve denied, buried, abandoned.

It means allowing grief to crack you open.

It means walking through the darkness before you touch the Light.

And most are unwilling.

They want the benefits without the sacrifice.

They want the relationship without the death of the false self.

They want the horse without the stillness.

So now, we share our truth in other ways. Through our website. Through social media. Through YouTube. We will continue to share our stories and our experiences—not as teachers, but as witnesses. So that perhaps someone, somewhere, might feel the resonance, and begin the journey inward for themselves.

This work is not about riding.

It is not about horses.

It is about truth.

It is about the sacred.

It is about the stillness.

And to those who feel this call in their bones, we say:

Live unapologetically.

We have spent years hiding our gifts.

Hiding our ability to heal.

Hiding our relationship with spirits, with interdimensional beings, with the cryptids and watchers who walk between worlds.

We have hidden our reverence for the intelligence of animals—

for the wisdom of trees,

for the multidimensional consciousness of nature.

Why?

Because it does not fit into the paradigm.

It does not fit into medicine, or education, or polite conversation.

But we are done hiding.

We are done apologizing for what we know.

And we say this now: the highest intelligence does not belong to the human ego. It belongs to those who are aligned with True Reality. To the ones who have surrendered. To the ones who have remembered their Divine essence by forgetting everything else.

This is what the horse has shown us.

This is what the stillness has revealed.

And it is the only truth that remains.

Invitation to Chevalia 

As we shift our focus at Chevalia, we invite you to walk with us—if your heart recognizes the call.

We welcome you to follow our blog, our YouTube channel, and our social media platforms, should you feel drawn to learn more about what we have witnessed, experienced, and learned. These teachings do not come from us, but through us—from the horses, from all of our animals, from the forest, the river, the flowers, the smallest insect, and the largest bird. In moments of deep stillness, having devoted our lives to that stillness, we have received lessons that cannot be taught—only shared, felt, and lived.

We walk our own path, and we hope it gives courage to those who are ready to step out of the story they’ve been told—to stop pretending, to stop living inauthentically just to be accepted in a world that doesn’t recognize the soul’s true longing. For those who’ve discovered the emptiness of ego, the dissonance of identity, and the hollowness of societal expectations, you may already know: it’s time to return home.

We have come to see trauma—not as a label, not as an identity to wear, but as a doorway. A sacred rite of passage. Too often, we hear “I am a cancer survivor,” or “I am a survivor of abuse,” as if the experience is who we are. What we are speaking of is something far deeper—something that dissolves all identities. The path we walk asks us to surrender completely. It is only through that total surrender that the truest initiation takes place.

This is the invitation: to let go. To meet yourself with honesty, humility, and courage. To move through the dark night of the soul, not as a victim, not as a title, but as a being emerging into truth. It is on the other side of that surrender that we are born into our divinity—with integrity, authenticity, and responsibility. It is from that place that we begin to see clearly: we are each so radiant, so magnificent—and so is everyone else.

From that stillness, we begin to see the beauty in all things. We see the patterns of nature and the cycles of life, even the unconsciousness that permeates society, as part of a passing current. Temporary. Transitional. And yet, all things are returning to the Source. Flowing, always flowing.

We don’t have to follow the dictated narrative. We don’t have to play the roles, ride the coattails, or conform to the illusions of separation. At Chevalia, we’ll be sharing our experiences—what the horses, the animals, and nature have shown us—through our books, through our writing, through our videos and reflections.

We extend this invitation to those who are walking their own path inward. This path is not for everyone. It is not easy. There are no shortcuts. But if you feel the call, if something inside you stirs, if a spark rises in your chest—then you know. You already know.

And we welcome you.

You do not need to come to us. You do not need to follow anyone. Like the horse, we don’t lead or pull—we simply reflect. We are not teachers. We are messengers. Messengers of what the Divine has revealed through the horse, through every creature and element, through the stillness itself.

Take what resonates. Leave what does not. There is no pressure here. Only an open hand and a quiet invitation.

We have often learned things we didn’t understand in the moment, only to look back years later and say, “Ah… it was always that simple.” If you’re ready, you’ll feel it. You’ll know it.

And if you do, read on. Listen. Walk with us for a time. But walk your own way. Follow not us—but that Divine spark within yourself. The one that remembers.

With sacred reverence, we honor you.

Welcome to Chevalia

Giselle Loveland