It’s July.
And the days are starting to merge.
This morning, I did a bit of work — some valuable feedback came through from someone who signed up for the cleanse. Annalie. She didn’t receive the link to start because she missed the intake form. Her insight helped me realise I need to include that link directly in the email too, just in case. She’s been awesome — finding the cracks, unintentionally, and helping me strengthen the flow. The cleanse is already getting better because of it.
I felt a deeper sense of landing in myself today. It’s okay to charge.
To support the life I want to live — 3 to 6 months in Sri Lanka, 3 to 6 months in South Africa. Maybe Bali. I don’t need much. Just enough to live well, while continuing to build the New Earth as a donation-based offering.
I went to a physio this morning to treat my back.
His clinic had mould on the walls.
I asked him, “What’s this mirroring in your life?”
He paused. Considered it. “Yeah… maybe I should talk to the landlord. Maybe I need a new space.”
He’s doing well — I saw the reviews — but something’s still off.
Then I asked to use the toilet.
He opened the door without checking and…
There was a wooden plank balanced across the toilet bowl, and on it, a dying mouse.
Barely moving. Surrounded by ants.
He offered me a different bathroom.
I said, “No, I’m good. I need to walk this trauma off.”
I laughed.
But something in it stuck.
Afterwards, I went to the pharmacy. Then home.
My therapist — who I’m covered for through Bupa — fell down the stairs and cancelled the call.
A friend then popped up again after disappearing, saying, “Let’s catch up.”
So I rearranged my day to take the call… and then he cancelled too.
Said he had to record a podcast.
It landed strangely. A projection of frustration. A mirror of rejection.
I noticed the old wound: “Am I not important? Not valuable?”
So I moved again.
Animals café was loud — cigarette smoke, noise. I left.
Tried Coco. Lovely owner. But the chairs weren’t great for my back.
I made tea. Ate some pancakes I’d brought from home.
Just sat there. Couldn’t work.
But I did finish drafting a few of the evergreen emails.
They’ll go out every 11 days — a gentle rhythm of guidance and invitation.
To walk the New Earth path. Or book a one-to-one.
If it’s a fit, we continue. If not, we bless and release.
Reciprocity. That feels right.
Eventually, I headed home…
But didn’t want to stay there.
I searched for a nearby yoga class.
Nothing.
So I followed a spontaneous pull — to visit the temple.
I thought I was going to one place…
But instead, I found myself at the Japanese Peace Pagoda in Rumassala.
I parked further than I needed to. Ended up on a short hike —
And it reminded me of South Africa.
That felt good. I hadn’t hiked in a while.
At the temple, I offered a prayer. Left a donation.
In the main shrine, statues of Buddha and his disciples stood quietly.
One disciple’s message spoke of knowing who you are.
A perfect mirror.
I took a few photos and sent them to Pen, saying I might be a bit late for our call.
Later, we spoke, and she said
“You know… Buddha had many names, too.”
We were talking about names — mine, how many I’ve had.
Then she said it:
“Buddha was Siddhartha.”
I paused. “Say that again”
“Siddhartha… Arthur.”
We both went silent.
Something landed.
It reminded me of the ayahuasca ceremony —
when I felt I was Merlin the magician juggling three states of consciousness.
Hermes. Yeshua. Buddha. In the great cosmos.
Avatars.
Energetic threads running through the dream of my life.
And just like that, in rest, not in striving —
the divine revealed itself.
Not by doing.
But by being.
And so… I’m learning.
It’s okay to be where I’m at.
There will be plenty to do, soon enough.
