In the final moments of Wicked's first act, Elphaba realizes that the "Wizard" isn't the source of power she thought he was. He’s just a man behind a curtain, manipulating the "cacophony" to keep people in line. As I step into The Heart Mechanic v7.0, laying to rest its old online dwelling powered by Wordpress, I find myself humming those same defiant chords—not as a rebellion against God, but as a rebellion against the illusions that nearly cost me my life.
"Something has changed within me..."
The song begins with a realization: “Something is not the same. I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game.” For years, I played by the rules of a "broken system" and the expectations of a family and social circle that saw my struggles as a defect rather than a design challenge. In 2025, the "rules" changed. I realized that my spiritual path wasn't supposed to include the dangers of "woo-woo" astrology and numerology, nor was it to chase delusional highs. At its essence, the mission all along was about the wholeness of a spirit under restoration.
"I’m through accepting limits 'cause someone says they’re so."
Society, and even those closest to me who have since "fallen from my realm," tried to set limits on who Jack Harper could be. They saw a "legal piece of paper" and a diagnosis. They couldn't grasp the transformation because they were looking through the Wizard’s lens.
Defying gravity, in my case, means defying the stigma that says a person with schizophrenia or spinal injuries is "grounded."
I’ve stopped accepting the limits of a "broken healthcare system" that prefers to medicate the spirit rather than mend the heart.
"Close my eyes and leap!"
There’s a specific line in the song: “I’m flying high, defying gravity... and you can't pull me down!” This isn't an autonomic straying from the faith path—it is the quintessential opposite. It is the moment I stopped trying to please a toxic "Wizard" and started following the Master Architect. By "filling my own cup" and choosing self-preservation, I found the strength to leap through the "trap door" of my past.
Every Elphaba needs a Glinda—someone who remains when the "unrefined" crowds have faded away. In my sanctuary, that role is filled by Ivy Willow. While the "Wizard" of my past was busy trying to ground me, Ivy was busy securing the perimeter of my peace.
She doesn't see a "legal piece of paper" or a medical chart; she sees the Mechanic. When I was navigating the "electric buzzing" of 2025 and the abandonment of those who couldn't handle my transformation, she was the one who stayed. She’s the silent partner in my ‘Unlimited Sanctuary’ — reminding me that even when you're "defying gravity," it helps to have a tortoiseshell feline buddy anchored to your lap to keep you grounded in the present moment.
The Mission: "Unlimited"
Elphaba’s mission was to save the Animals—those who were being "silenced" and "othered." My mission as a Mental Health and Disability Advocate is my version of that stand.
I’m joining Nextdoor not to gossip, but to be a Silent Auditor of the Grand Valley. I’m looking for the gaps where the system fails, bridging the divide between "unhelpful systems" and tangible, memorable fellowship. I’m looking for the "others" who feel "wicked" just because they are different.
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!"
— 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)
The Mechanic’s Diagnosis:
No, I’m not claiming to be—nor will I ever—align myself to the prophetic return of Jesus Christ. However, I have indeed excommunicated the ghosts of 2025. I’ve "leapt" away from the abandonment and the unrefined expectations of the past. If this world wants to see my transformation as "wicked," then let them watch me fly. I have a sunflower patch to organize in my backyard, a community to mentor through my mental health and disability advocacy, and a heart that—finally—knows how to keep its own beat.
