––– 21st July –––
Woke up at 4:30 AM, body aching from the gym session the day before. I knew I wasn’t ready to start the day, so I closed my eyes again—and when I opened them, it was 6:30. Light filtered through the windows. I moved slowly through my morning routine. It was more painful than usual, but I accepted it. I made my special morning drink and then took a quiet moment in the bathroom, flipping open The Diamond Cutter. The words struck me—something about how even the smallest particle of asbestos could bring cancer. And here I was, beneath an asbestos roof, often barefoot in the garden where rainwater pools and filters into the grass.
For a second, the thought tried to grip me. But then the voice came in—my own, my higher self:
You are divinely protected. You are divinely guided.
So I chose to trust.
The morning was cloudy, rainy. A little creature floated through the canal—looked like a crocodile at first, but on closer glance, it was probably a cousin species. Harmless. Curious. Nestled beneath the branches like it belonged there.
I will spend part of the morning updating the contribution page on the site, adding a custom field so people could enter any amount they wish to offer. The next step is figuring out how to reflect that energy back to them—an equal exchange in service, in guidance, in time.
Then I will move onto the community landing page, making sure all the links made sense. I want the flow to feel organic, intuitive. After that, I will return to the orientation call layout. I’ve resisted making it too rigid. People will have their own questions, their own pace. So I’ll create something rough and honest, and then refine it based on feedback. That feels right.
Yesterday, I brought the New Earth painting back here. I forgot to mention it. It’s waiting now for Upul to mount it on the wall. It feels like another anchor point—one more symbol of beauty and stillness in this evolving space.
I caught myself thinking about the way I message people. I often reply fast—too fast, maybe. It’s that inner urgency to be of service. But I realise now it can sometimes be a bit much for others. Not everyone moves like this, with this immediacy. Some are still processing. And while I don’t take it personally anymore, I do check in with myself to ask: Am I messaging from presence, or from a desire to connect and be seen?
If it’s the latter, I pull back.
It’s not about anyone else. It’s about me staying in my lane, honouring the call, chipping away at the work that needs doing. That’s enough.
And that’s okay.
That’s more than okay.
–––
Last night, I also had a vivid dream.
I was on a packed train with Tom Cruise and a friend from the old Mischief days with his younger brother. Tom Cruise was openly using cocaine off a bag right there in public. Then, suddenly, we were in a taxi en route to what I thought was China Whites. The cab grew strangely larger, more people climbing in. I checked my phone and saw that we were heading toward Reading. Reading? It made no sense. I asked the driver why we weren’t where we were meant to be, guests waiting and all.
We got out nearby, but the car wouldn’t restart. I tried to charge it. That’s when the police showed up. One officer was stuffing food into his face, and I noticed a line of coke next to the charging port—so I quickly swept it away. Then this beautiful Filipino girl appeared, drawn to me, and though I wanted to connect, something about it all felt… off. Fragmented. Like I was witnessing parts of a life that no longer belong to me.
The dream felt like an echo. One last visit to the Old Earth nightclub of my psyche.
Today, I walk with presence.
I don’t need to control anything.
I just need to embody everything.
—Tarot Reflection – 21st July—
– What does it mean to walk with sacred pace? –
– Where am I still confusing urgency with care?
🃏 The Sun
This card brings a radiant clarity: sacred pace is not sluggish—it’s luminous, vibrant, alive. The Sun reminds you that walking with sacred pace is walking in truth, joy, and trust. There’s no need to rush when the light already touches everything. Urgency dims the warmth; care amplifies it. When you confuse the two, you forget the sun is already rising within you.
– What part of me is still trying to be ‘on time’ for something I’ve already arrived at? –
– Can I trust that the Divine works outside of my schedule?
🃏 The Hermit
The part still striving is the part that hasn’t yet witnessed how far you’ve come. The Hermit calls you inward to see that the arrival already happened long ago, in silence, in solitude. Divine timing is not linear. The light you carry is not on delay—it’s always been here. Trust it. Stop running to a place your soul is already resting in.
– How do I honour the offerings I give and receive without attachment? –
– What does balanced reciprocity feel like in my body?
🃏 Knight of Cups
This knight moves from the heart—not for reward, not for recognition, but for the poetry of devotion itself. He teaches you to pour your cup without watching how others drink. Balanced reciprocity feels like grace: a gesture made and released. Give with beauty. Receive with openness. Expect nothing, yet honour everything.
– Where am I still seeking connection through speed, rather than presence? –
– What opens when I wait to be invited in?
🃏 The Tower
This card reveals the cost of forced entry—of leaping ahead before the heart has opened. Speed fractures what presence could have mended. The Tower is the collapse of false urgency. When you wait to be invited in, what opens is truth. Authentic bonds. The invitation that doesn’t just welcome you—it wants you there.
– What remnants of the Old Earth still echo through my subconscious? –
– What do those fragments need in order to fully dissolve?
🃏 Seven of Wands
The echo is defensiveness—the old need to guard, to justify, to brace for resistance. But these remnants are only shadows of a world no longer here. They dissolve when you no longer stand in opposition to ghosts. When you drop the shield and choose grounded embodiment, not reaction. They need only your stillness to vanish.
– How can I show up more fully for the unseen work? –
– What wants to be tended in silence, without applause?
🃏 Ten of Pentacles
The unseen work is legacy. The architecture of lineage. It’s not flashy—it’s foundational. The Ten of Pentacles asks you to tend to the roots, not the branches. This is the work that nourishes future generations. What wants to be tended in silence is the soil beneath your sanctuary. Keep building. Even when no one is watching.
– What does it mean to embody my lane without explanation? –
– Where am I still trying to prove or justify my sacred path?
🃏 Ten of Swords
This is the death of the proving mind. The Ten of Swords speaks to the final collapse of needing to explain, to win others over, to justify your direction. Your lane doesn’t need permission. Let the old story end. Walk on from the battlefield. The sacred path is already yours—and it never needed defending.
