Holly Wood: The Wand They Never Put Down
- Karen Di Gloria
- 7 days ago
- 3 min read
The Curtain: Bird’s-Eye Truths — A weekly remembering
Some spells don’t need words.
They need repetition, image, and emotional entrainment.
Hollywood understood this early.
Not metaphorically — literally.
Holly wood was once used to make wands.
Tools meant to focus intention, project will, and bend perception.
Now look again.
From the outside, Hollywood sells dreams.
From above, it manufactures identities.
Actors are not just performers — they are containers.
They are asked to open themselves emotionally, psychologically, and energetically again and again, often without protection, without integration, without rest.
To cry on command.
To fracture on cue.
To dissolve boundaries — then reset and do it again.
What looks like talent is often uncontained permeability.
And permeability, inside a system designed for extraction, is dangerous.
Consider Robin Williams.
A man whose gift was emotional range so vast it could hold entire rooms — entire generations. He could make people laugh while carrying unbearable depth.
But from the bird’s-eye view, something becomes clear:
He was always open.
Hyper-empathic.
Highly sensitive.
Deeply attuned.
Hollywood fed on that openness.
When someone like this collapses, the culture rushes to name causes — depression, addiction, illness — anything that keeps the focus personal.
But systems prefer personal blame.
It keeps the structure intact.
Here’s the part that rarely gets said out loud:
Hollywood does not reward wholeness.
It rewards fragmentation that still performs.
Actors who integrate too much…
who see too clearly…
who refuse to keep splitting themselves for roles…
They become “difficult.”
“Unreliable.”
“Hard to work with.”
Translation:
They stopped being usable.
The spell works because it’s beautiful.
Lighting.
Music.
Story arcs.
Catharsis.
We are taught to outsource our emotional processing to screens — to cry through characters, rage through villains, heal through narratives that reset neatly in two hours.
But the body doesn’t reset like that.
Actors absorb what audiences discharge.
And when there’s no ritual to close the nervous system, no space to integrate shadow, no sovereignty over image or story…
The fracture stays.
Some do try to speak.
Some hint.
Some joke.
Some spiral publicly.
Some disappear quietly.
And the machine rolls on — because the wand is still in motion.
The illusion must continue.
But here is the truth that emerges only when you step back far enough:
No image can replace embodiment.
No role can substitute for soul.
No applause can repair fragmentation.
We were never meant to live through screens.
We were meant to live through ourselves.
This is where remembrance becomes resistance.
Not outrage.
Not boycotts.
Not pointing fingers.
But withdrawing belief from systems that require self-abandonment to function.
We are the most advanced technology God ever created.
No studio, no industry, no narrative machine can resurrect the soul from its shadow the way self-trust, integration, and alignment with Source can.
The wand only works if you believe it does.
If you’re ready to move beyond illusion and begin remembering, these are the next doors:
A first veil lifted.
How spectacle, scandal, and distraction keep us emotionally invested while deeper systems shape perception behind the scenes.
The remembering moves inward.
Entering the Temple of the Body — where stored stories dissolve, coherence returns, and sovereignty is restored through the nervous system.
The spell breaks the moment you stop outsourcing your soul.
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