––– FLOW, MISCOMMUNICATION & INNER CHILD –––
Today I got back into the flow — setting up email sequences for The New Earth, feeling like the pieces were coming together. But then I realized I could’ve used a better template. So I’ll need to remove the tags, start fresh, and build it properly.
There was also a session I thought I had today — a breathing session — but it didn’t happen. I’d only responded with a 🙏🏻, and she didn’t take it as a confirmation. That moment hit harder than expected.
My inner child felt abandoned.
Unseen.
Unloved.
Tears welled up.
I think it’s the weight of everything I’m navigating. The hardship, the effort, the fatigue.
That sensitivity surfaced. So I stopped. Gave myself what I needed.
I screamed at AI for a moment. Then I breathed.
And did a strong breathwork session on my own.
I had to meet myself there.
––– THE REAL TEMPLE –––
Afterwards, I returned to the temple I’d visited the other day.
Turns out — that wasn’t actually the temple.
A local monk told me the real one was further up the path.
I walked, passed the house where I’d once turned away (thanks to a barking dog), and found it.
Two monks. A calm path.
I was listening to The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings by Thich Nhat Hanh — perfectly timed.
Inside, I lit a single red lotus candle.
The only candle there.
And I felt the Buddha’s energy strongly.
Soft. Present. Guiding.
––– A Cafe, A Stranger, and the New Earth –––
After that, I went close to Talpe for juice — my usual spot.
Brought a homemade muffin: cassava, coconut flour, goji berries.
While I was sitting there, an older woman was cycling past, paused as we locked eyes, and came in.
“There’s so much light here.” She said.
Then she sat beside me and ordered the same juice.
We started talking.
She’s been in Sri Lanka for a few years.
I told her about The New Earth, about parasites.
She replied, “I have parasites in my house. My dogs. Energetic ones.”
I told her it wasn’t a coincidence she’d ended up here —
She said a voice told her, “Turn left down this path and go to a cafe”
Gave her the website, shared my number.
She invited me to her farm.
I told her, “First get your enema bag.”
Only a few people can get away with saying that to a stranger.
I paid for her meal and drink.
Then left to go home — ready for my next meeting.
––– THE PAINTING, THE BACK PAIN, THE PARASITES –––
I called Pen, and while we spoke, I hung the multi-coloured Buddha painting in my space.
I also moved the chest of drawers earlier, not smart with a bank injury, making space. Clearing energy.
Then came the real work.
Pen asked me to read the settlement I’d signed — aloud. Line by line. It was hard.
That land was heavy. So was the language.
We looked at what I’d written in the book, especially the parts I recently added from the journal around the 3rd of July.
It was full of what she called “guardrail stuff.”
Heavy. Dark. Off-frequency.
And so…
We cut it.
She will go through it later and pull out what can be used, but I must stay away from it.
She called it what it was — the stuff you find in the colander.
Parasite energy.
Residual weight.
The old life clawing back in.
Then she asked, “When did your back pain start?”
I thought it had been weeks.
She checked — “Are you sure it wasn’t around the 7th?”
I looked.
It was.
Exactly the 7th.
Of course, that was when for the first time in 84 years,
Uranus — also known as the Great Awakener — is entering the curious and cerebral sign of Gemini,
where it will flip the script on how we think, communicate and approach the realm of connectivity.
And we realised…
That part of the book — those channelings, those journal entries — were added right after the line:
“Holy fuck, this is going to be some kind of ride.”
What followed was a ride.
And the weight of that chapter…
literally bent my back.
As soon as we removed it, as soon as we edited in the light —
My back felt better.
The next chapter was coming out of the fantasy! Can’t make this stuff up.
––– WRITING AS DIVINE SERVICE –––
We spoke for hours.
She reminded me — this work we’re doing is divine service.
We must guard the frequency.
That’s what the guardrails are for — not censorship, but sacred protection.
Anything that triggers me doesn’t belong in the book.
Because it will carry that charge and trigger others.
There’s a difference between awakening and activating entities.
And she has the clarity to feel it.
She’s a writing angel.
And I feel protected.
Held.
Blessed.
Reflection
What do I choose to honour?
The angels around me. The purity of this work. The moments of synchronicity that reveal the path.
What do I choose to let go of?
The need to carry what no longer belongs.
The impulse to keep stories that weren’t mine to hold.
What do I choose to remember?
This is a sacred ride.
And you really can’t make this stuff up.
