Friends of Kosmic Kitten may have noted in recent episodes as well as in our list of upcoming LGBTQ events that #RainbowTribe Queers are experiencing a significant moment of cosmic consciousness. 

Many in the esoteric community are reporting that during the March equinox we are seeing energies pummeling the surface realm that humanity inhabits. That, combined with wildly fluctuating space weather, the explosive increase of reported sightings of UFOs, and other sky phenomenon seen in 2018—are all leading up to the concept that the veils around us are thinning at a rapid pace.

We as a human social memory complex are—for want of a better metaphor—coming out of “Airplane Mode” and reconnecting to our spiritual and heretofore unacknowledged innate "WiFi capabilities" so to speak. We are coming online to higher and collective consciousness. We are tethering ourselves down to Mother Gaia as well as hooking ourselves up to the greater Galactic community.

As I have shared in a recent video podcast episode, I was the recipient of a mind-blowing past life reading facilitated by a Native American shamanic practitioner and Lyrian starseed named Alta Dillard. This wise woman walked me through a physical incarnation that I had experienced just prior to when I popped out of my mother’s abdomen via C-section in the early 80’s as the gay male "Alex Liberato" that we all know and love today.

 "Disco Diva" Dorothy Stratten

"Disco Diva" Dorothy Stratten

Alta and I had pieced together that prior to this current life incarnation in which I was named after Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties (True fact! Ask my dad. I basically debuted when the show debuted), my oversoul has—surprisingly—previously incarnated as a murdered Playboy playmate and centerfold model. In her short 20-year lifespan, Dorothy Stratten reached meteoric heights. Harper's Bazaar wrote a heart-wrenching piece about Dorothy’s short and amazing life and her tragic exit from this Earth realm.

The day after I had sat down with Alta in her mystic crystal-laden backroom of the energetically buzzy Earth Odyssey store in New Orleans, I was sitting in an airport lounge in Charlotte awaiting my flight back to Portland. Whilst waiting, I was scouring the Internet for anything related to the Playboy playmate & centerfold model whom I had never previously heard of.

In the weeks that ensued following my cosmic connection to another incarnation of mine, I began to get a sense of how much Dorothy and I could potentially resonate to each other. I even see some slight echoes of physical resemblance in the nose and eye region between us.

So I made a video about my newfound tie to Dorothy. And after I filmed it and edited out all my “uh’s,” hiccups, and exclamations of “fucking goddamn it,” I then scoured YouTube for any additional media I could find about this woman.

Interestingly, Dorothy's tragic tale spawned two made-for-TV movies that I want to watch sometime.

in my second search, I found that my soul-sister from an oversoul mister Dorothy Stratten had starred in a low-budget campy sci-fi comedy flick called Galaxina! 

When I saw this trailer my blood ran cold, my heart sank into my toes, and I ran into our living room like a babbling three-year-old who shat himself.

“Did you get stoned?” asked my fiancé.

I replied to him in a calm, collected, and obviously adult manner: “NO I’M LUCID I’M JUST A HOT MESS IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT THIS PULL IT UP ON THE TV!!!”

“Oh my god,” replied my other half, “it’s like you wrote this!”


“Sweetie bring it down a notch, the neighbors can hear you.”

My man is infinitely patient with the cosmic Starseed self that I am evolving into.

The Intersection of Multidimensionality and Gay Reparative Therapy

Now let’s flash forward to March, 2018. The Universe aligned in such a way that a good friend of mine whom I had grown to know in Provo had just recently moved to Oregon. We decided to catch up at Raven & Rose in downtown Portland.


Our shared commonality as friends is not simply that we are both gay males who lived in the same town in Utah at the same time. Back then, my friend and I had decided to earn Mormon extra credit by enrolling in reparative therapy in order to cure ourselves of our scintillatingly shameful Homosexxxy tendencies.

Spoiler alert: the results of our gay reparative therapy, obviously, were not successful. We both eventually had to recover from this organizational abuse and go on to forge our own individual lifetimes of Out N’ Proud gay pride.

It was beautiful to catch up with my friend. The last time we were in the same room together, it was over a decade ago and we were in a reparative therapy session in Provo. Our group of broken male souls were seated in a circle in some small clinical room with harsh fluorescent lighting.

I stood up after an especially soul-wrenching reparative session in which we were all participating. I made up some excuse that I had to go to the restroom.

That's the last time I saw this friend of mine. I deuced out. I ghosted this poor soul and left him high and dry.

I went into a toilet stall and I cried (which I NEVER do, so it looks like squinty diarrhea of my face any time I cry). I composed myself, then said “fuck this shit” (I probably REALLY said “Golly I’m not so into this after all, jiminy jillickers”) and I then proceeded to beeline straight to my Ford Focus in the parking lot. I sat for another minute before I decided on a whim to drive 50 miles northward to see the Salt Lake City LDS Temple.

I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Perhaps I could walk the grounds to reflect and pray!

Welp, when I got to the Temple after I ghosted my fellow closet-case and friend (by the way, they all thought I was still in the bathroom crying for an hour), I parked my car and walked up to the grounds of Temple Square. It was dusk as I approached the entrance. Two security guards proceeded to close the gates in my face and said “sorry, we’re closing for the night.”

Mormon Jesus has a fucking sense of humor, that one.

After I was rejected from the Temple grounds, I returned to my college apartment in Provo to reflect som emore. That night, I came out of the closet. Only to myself though. Not at school of course, because college expulsion was on the table and a very real threat to my future. Expulsion & a campus arrest came later, but that incident is worthy of its own post.

My reparative therapy friend was the last human with whom I talked and interacted before I made the conscious decision to come out to myself as a gay man. Somehow that seems significant to me.

Flash forward to Raven & Rose: I felt that it was so wild to be in the same room with this cosmic and conscious gay friend again. When one awakens and begins to embody multidimensional consciousness, one quickly becomes amenable to the idea that timelines can split and bifurcate. My friend and I were poster models for two totally different life trajectories. Two separate lifestyles. In adulthood, I had assumed a reserved, corporate persona like the good lil' Mormon boy that I was raised to be. Growing up religious and then becoming an unabashed atheist, I had assumed that any talk of spirituality or connection to an unseen energy or force was—pardon my parlance—utter bullpucky. 

My friend, however, gaily sashayed into his role of embodying the spiritual giant that he always knew he could be. During our time apart, my friend would commit himself to journeying, self-discovery and reflection whilst I was probably shopping at Nordstrom and gossiping with corporate associates at rooftop cocktail bars in the Pacific Northwest.

Needless to say that once I underwent an accidental Kundalini energy awakening and began a journey of cosmic consciousness, I had to make up for a lot of lost time. Only since having moved to Portland from Seattle have I even deigned to lend an ear to the esoteric.

It's been quite the ride.

Let’s Get to Our Delicious Radical Faeries

Radical Faeries have been permeating my consciousness since my closeted BYU days. When I was a Junior, there was an underground group of Mormon queers that went by a certain code word that I shan’t divulge because I’m not exactly sure if it’s still in use and I don’t want to endanger any BYU LGBTQ closet-cases.

Back then, we would meet on a weekly or bi-weekly basis to chat, watch movies, or do whatever. Once in awhile this event would be structured in such a way that there would be a presentation or some form of art-sharing. This ragtag group was administered by an ex-Mormon college graduate and his boyfriend.

By this point in my journey into my flagrant faggotry, I had acquired a great BFF *and* beard all wrapped up in one. She is what is known as a Lipstick Lesbian, meaning that she embodied cis cultural identifiers such as feminine dress and mannerisms. To our classmates and apartment complex, she was my "girlfriend." In reality, she was simply my best friend and sister. It was the ultimate arrangement! (Side note - during our time together she had at least two people pull her aside and ask her "do you think your boyfriend might be a bit gay?" Needless to say she was much more 'passable' than I.)

She and I, as well as a gaggle of curious queers who rotated based on who was peeking out of the closet and who was running back into said closet, would all carpool up to Salt Lake in order to attend this underground secret LGBTQ gathering. 

At one of these events, the group leader proudly introduced a representative from a group called the Radical Faeries. A man from the RadFaes was in town and this was an opportunity for him to share a bit of history about this storied gay organization. Before the introduction I thought he seemed kind of cute. Let's just say that I LUVZ ME a hairy, bearded, salt-and-pepper seasoned gentleman who's a bit rough around the edges.

  Groundswell Institute  published an image of an old school radical faerie beltane.

Groundswell Institute published an image of an old school radical faerie beltane.

After he was introduced and began to speak, it only took me 4.5 seconds to quickly put up my defenses and shields. I quickly found his rapport, his clothing, his manner of speech to be so incredibly off-putting. He was male-embodied Genderfuck in the best possible way, yet in that moment I was freaking out because he wasn’t adhering to traditional hetero cultural identifiers. During his presentation, he discussed how Radical Faeries frequently gather to commune, to share heart circles, to participate in estatic dance, to perform healing ceremonies, and to even ceremoniously dance around a Maypole in a gay and unabashed manner.

Sounds amazing right??

Not to 21-year-old Alex P. Keaton Liberato, it didn’t.

My smarter and world-savvy lezzzzbian "lover" thought that this presentation was the shit and was eating it up and asking for seconds. She was enraptured. Frankly, I was not having any of this. All of it was just too subversively gay for my tastes. With the mindset I embodied during that moment, LGBTQ concepts such as dressing in drag or being unabashedly queer were simply out of the question. How would we ever get equal rights or gain acceptance in the eyes of our fellow people (read: uptight Mormons) if we were to embody scandalous cultural identifiers?!


Fall in line!

Put on a pair of trousers for god's sake!

It took me over a decade to realize that genderfuck cutie in that SLC living room who extolled the virtues of the Radical Faeries movement really had the answers all along! I was the one who needed to grow, to evolve.

Many years later I become re-acquainted with the Radical Faeries in the Portland area. I came to realize that there is something wonderful about the RadFae mindset. There is an emphasis on listening to one's inner-self and allowing one's oversoul to embody itself via one's outer-self.

These liberated queens somehow got the memo long before I did.

A wise sage named RuPaul said it best: “We’re all born naked and the rest is drag.”

One beautiful aspect of the Radical Faerie movement is that one gets to choose their own “Faerie” name. I used to be allergic to this concept because it struck too close to how, when inducted into cultish Masonic Mormon rituals and rites at the Temple, a new initiate is always given a special ceremonial name that they are meant to utter at the gates of Mormon heaven upon their death. It is a silly and cultish ritual.


Full disclosure: my Mormon temple name is Josiah. Today I sometimes utilize this name as something that baristas write down when fulfilling my coffee order at the Sea-Tac airport Starbucks.

I'm cheeky like that.

Years after my temple initiation, when I retired some of my unconscious Mormon programming, I was still allergic to the idea of donning a chosen RadFae name because I felt that my birth name that I was already given is still hella cool! Alex = Defender of Man. Liberato = Freed or Freedman (Italian).

That name relates really well to the movement of consciousness liberation and galactic re-connectivity, doesn’t it? Why overwrite it?

Well much like how an LGBTQ person can create their chosen family that complements (or in some extreme cases, replaces) their birth/adopted family, similarly that is how it works for someone donning upon themselves a chosen identity, persona, or alias in the Radical Faerie community.

Choosing a name can almost be compared to the act of choosing a preferred gender pronoun.

So with all that, I am happy to share my new Radical Faerie name:

Galaxina Alcyone

  • Galaxina honors the low-budget movie starring Dorothy Stratten, my alternate incarnation. It also alludes to the cheeky sense of subversive humor that I tend to hungrily gobble and to which I gravitate. Dorothy didn’t have a chance to fully bloom into the witty and intelligent personality that you can see glimmers of in old footage, which is tragic. I feel that her incarnation could be best summed up by that oft-seen derisive phrase used by Reddit trolls: “Tits or GTFO.” She quite literally rocketed to the top of group consciousness by way of pop culture stardom and quickly experienced a tragic exit. I believe that I have returned to this Earth plane in order to have another incarnational go-around, but this time it will be on my own terms, and I will unabashedly embody my true self and speak from my throat chakra.
  • Alcyone is the star from which I originate. By “I” I mean the oversoul or gestalt consciousness which is embodied currently as Alex, which was previously embodied as Dorothy, which was also anciently embodied as Jewish historian Flavius Josephus—as well as a myriad of other quirky characters on this dysfunctional Earth between the mythical period of Atlantis and the modern day. 
 Pleiadian, bitch.

Pleiadian, bitch.

I and other like-minded kittens are warming up to the idea that humanity possesses ties and tethers to the cosmos that we don’t currently fully understand. We are waking up to the idea that human history and the story of Gaia is longer and richer than just the bullshit story of “6,000 years ago Jesus made Earth and that’s it... fuck you don’t ask questions.”

I mean look around you! There exist ancient imprints of criss-crossing street grids that one can discern lying at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean via satellite imagery. There are ancient pyramids and other sacred geometry edifices and structures dotted at peculiar points on our globe. There are giant inexplicable monuments and pyramids found in frozen and “uninhabitable” Antarctica. 

There might be a lot more happening in our Earth, on our Earth, and over our Earth than we have been led to believe.

Humans are an angelic species, and we are barely learning to reconnect and to communicate with the “oneness” that is every one and every thing that we can see, touch, taste, perceive, stomp, fuck, talk to, pass by, etc., etc.

Humans are inherently magical creatures. Yet we have forgotten this fact because we walk around in this turd-encrusted livestock pen known as Third Density. However, I believe that a significant paradigm shift is imminent and that we are on the cusp of reconnection to the broader Galactic community.

 Wikimedia Commons

Wikimedia Commons

To bring this post closer to home (Earth), I want to close with a note of honor and immense gratitude for the members of the Radical Faerie movement. While the rest of us were walking around as unconscious zombies, these energetically high vibrational kittens were cast to the periphery of accepted society, and relished every moment of their outsider status. They could have, or perhaps should have, fizzled or flamed out into obscurity. Liberated faggot pioneers relegated to a dusty footnote.

Instead, these kittens have carried on strong over many decades. These male-bodied delicious weirdos assumed a mantel of high energy and frequency embodiment. They gaily walked multitudinous Pride parades while Christian onlookers spat and jeered and the rest of us closet queers were too scared to be seen too close to the parade route. They reclaimed scandalous words like “fuck” and “fag.”

They not only proudly donned the metaphoric Scarlet Letter that society affixed to their chests, they went so far as to actually repurpose these fabric shame-marks into a fuckin’ gorgeous and desirous fashion statement. There is a subversive frequency that RadFaes emanate in their auras. Something along the lines of "I'm me. Got a problem? Fuck you."

It's beautiful.

A typical Radical Faerie's throat chakra, much like an illustrated man's crotch penciled in an erotic Tom of Finland sketch, appear to flagrantly and proudly bulge outward and upward in eye-popping way.

As a man who feels that he has taken far too long to give himself permission to stand in and assume his voice, I marvel at the embodiment and soul-purpose of members of the Radical Faerie movement.

I love you, Faeries. 

Is it too late for me to be counted amongst your kind?