“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” said Alice “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
Sometimes we don’t know where we’re going, only that we must follow. Sometimes, a rabbit appears.
I met Nychos for the first time in March 2018, but the thread that brought us together had already been laid before our time. His name is Nikolaus—Nychos is his mirrorworld name, his artist name—and like me, he had been tumbling through hidden dimensions for a while before we ever met.
He was in his mid-30s, Austrian. Our European roots gave us a kind of shared intimacy, though we didn’t yet know we spoke the same language. I lived in the mountains between Santa Monica and Malibu. He lived in the Art District of downtown LA—two poles of the same big dream. Distance is everything here. And yet.
We met somewhere in between.
The White Rabbit Has Many Faces
Nikolaus began in graffiti—night-born, fast-moving, edge-of-the-law expression. Graffiti trains the eye to see through walls, to move quickly, to stay fluid. It’s not unlike dreamwork, or healing in altered states: art that slips past the ordinary and touches the surreal.
From that world, Nikolaus chose the white rabbit as his hallmark. The figure who disappears around corners, opens portals, keeps moving. My rabbit came through Lewis Carroll. I’ve worked for years with people who’ve fallen—through crisis, death, rupture. I don’t paint at night, but I follow consciousness where it leads. I help people reframe their stories after they return from journeys they never planned to take.
The rabbit leads us both.
Our connection is manifold.
Transmission at the Doorstep of Death
A year and a half before we met, Nikolaus found himself in Mexico City, standing before a painting he didn’t expect would change his life. The mural was “Liberación” by Jorge González Camarena, painted in 1963, housed in the Palacio de Bellas Artes.
Nikolaus was four months into a debilitating illness—one that dragged him into depression, isolation, and confrontation with death.
And then it happened.
Before this massive five-by-ten-meter mural, something invisible moved. He dropped to his knees and wept. Not out of despair—but contact. Something had passed through him.
“Liberación” speaks of the human struggle for spiritual and intellectual freedom. It’s filled with figures breaking their chains, rising from ruin, and leaning into light. It doesn’t just depict liberation—it is it. A transmission. A code. A frequency left behind by the artist, long gone, yet still very much present. The painting met Nikolaus exactly where he was: at the edge. At the rabbit hole.
And something said: Jump.
The Field Beneath the Field
That thread led him to me. We worked together, in the soft tenderness beneath words, beneath wounds. At the time, my sessions were guided by a sacred medicine. A molecule that dissolves ego, narrative, time. We entered the field beneath the field.
My work, too, is transmission. I become a vessel—empty, listening. The message is not mine. The energy that flows is not mine. But I know how to make space for it.
Nikolaus and I have different tools, but we recognize each other’s grammar. We don’t direct the current—we trust it. And it moves.
In 2020, he produced The Awakening, both an event and a book that documented his inner and outer journey—before the medicine, through it, and beyond it. He gifted me a copy. A visual archive. A testimony of what moves through when we get out of the way. I never replied. I did not know how. Until now.
Journey of the Soul
In 2024, Nikolaus painted “Liberation of the Soul” in Linz, Austria. A thirteen by eighty meter mural completed in just 2.5 months. A heroic feat, thousands of spray cans. Day in, day out, under rain, hail or burning sun—twenty times the size of “Liberación”. But this isn’t about size. This is about what moves through the wall.
The mural is a portal: visions of the third eye, coiled serpents of kundalini, rising phoenixes, fields of energy, the divine feminine and masculine in dance, rebirth, God, death, electric light. Archetypes swirl. Forms dissolve. The soul emerges. It is not just seen—it is felt. And of course, it starts with a white rabbit.
It is not a painting. It is a transmission.
When we spoke recently, we could trace the thread—from illness to healing, from “Liberación” to “Liberation of the Soul”, from Mexico to Linz, from one artist to another, from spirit to body to vision and back again. We saw that the thread was not ours. It was moving through us.
The Hose Is Not the Gas
I shared a metaphor I often use. You go to a gas station. You see the pump, the hose, the car. But you don’t see the most important part: the energy, the fuel, the gasoline. In transmission, the painting—or the words—are the hose. The artist is the pump. The energy that flows through is the intelligence of something greater.
The witness—the reader, the viewer—is the recipient. They receive, but not passively. They are charged. They are changed.
Transmission has its own intelligence. It doesn’t dominate—it dances. It doesn’t command—it invites. It finds the key code inside the receiver’s dormant DNA and whispers, “Wake up!”. It works even when unseen. And sometimes, it brings you to your knees, to weep.
It did to Nikolaus.
It did to me.
One day it will be you.
Not Instruction, But Resonance
The artist doesn’t impose. The artist opens. They empty. They dissolve. They become the witness. What flows through is not instruction—it’s resonance. It is light code. It meets each person differently, according to their own hidden design.
“Liberation of the Soul” is a continuation of what Camarena began. For Camarena, too, was a vessel. He opened himself to something eternal. And that ripple echoed forward—until, one day, it fell into the eyes of a young artist in Mexico City. Who wept. And then painted.
In some ways, Nikolaus painted “Liberación”. And Camarena painted “Liberation of the Soul”.
Transmission is not linear. It spirals. It echoes. It multiplies.
And So the Thread Continues
This is what I trust: what touched Nikolaus will now touch others. And what touches them may become the seed of their own creation.
That is the mystery. That is the magic. That is the transmission. So if you don’t know where to go, follow the white rabbit— the rabbit knows the way.
❤️🙏🏼