I forgot to put my retainer in last night — a strange slip, almost like my body needed a break from old structures.
I woke up around 6:15 or 6:30. I didn’t jump out of bed. I just lay there, allowing myself to relax, to affirm the absence of pressure. To anchor in this new reality — the New Earth rhythm — one that doesn’t begin with urgency. It felt like a gentle regulation of the nervous system, an inner knowing that there’s no rush.
Eventually, I got up, went to the bathroom, and read a few more pages of The Diamond Cutter. Then I did my practices.
Today feels like an in-between space. There isn’t much work… and yet, there is. Nothing feels urgent or pressing. Until inspiration arrives, I choose to relax.
I’ll probably go into town, maybe visit a temple, maybe not. I’ll go to the gym. I’m feeling a lot better than yesterday. The virus that had emerged — most likely triggered by cacao and stress — seems to have already subsided. What would normally stay for a week has dissolved in a day. I see that as grace.
There’s this quiet voice I keep hearing, reminding me: When you need to, you can always create a client. If and when.
But I don’t need to. Not right now.
That’s why I’m here in Sri Lanka. That’s why I’ve simplified everything — cut costs, minimized distractions, and let go of all that didn’t align with the New Earth. So I can live freely. So I can offer this sacred work, like the parasite cleanse and the 3-Day journey, as a gift — donation-based, sovereign, unpressured. That’s the essence of what the New Earth is.
I want to live close to the Ascended Masters, in practice and principle.
To be in service without sacrifice.
To be supported without selling out.
To create from freedom, not force.
This is life on the New Earth.
1. What happens when I no longer start the day with pressure?
→ How does my nervous system respond to the absence of urgency?
Card: Nine of Cups
This is the nervous system in its natural state — satiated, centered, complete. When you release the need to rush, you enter the field of fulfillment without force. The Nine of Cups reflects inner wealth: the ability to feel full before anything “happens.” This card is a mirror of your current embodiment — peace is no longer the reward. It’s the starting point.
2. Where am I still holding onto roles I’ve already outgrown?
→ What masks am I ready to release, even if they once felt like purpose?
Card: Five of Swords
Old roles cling through subtle battles — inner dialogues, superiority games, silent wins. The Five of Swords invites deep honesty: is winning still necessary? Is the performance still feeding identity? Perhaps it’s time to drop the armor of “expert” and simply be — naked, available, true. This card confronts the ego’s final grasp: being right instead of being real.
3. How does service evolve when it is truly free from sacrifice?
→ What parts of me still equate sacred work with struggle?
Card: Knight of Cups (Reversed)
There’s a recalibration in progress. The reversed Knight of Cups shows how romanticized notions of service — the savior, the martyr — can distort flow. It’s not about dramatic quests or proving worth. This card reminds you to reclaim gentleness and let devotion arise without attachment to outcome. Sacred work isn’t a pedestal. It’s a quiet stream flowing from the heart.
4. What am I editing in my book that also needs editing in my life?
→ Where do I still pretend or perform instead of speaking plainly?
Card: The Moon
The Moon holds the illusions still nested in the subconscious — the emotional ink written in shadows. Editing your book is stirring these hidden waters. What’s being revealed is where the script still leans toward secrecy, softness masking truth. This card asks you to illuminate the fog — in story and in self — and write from the light behind the veil.
5. What is my relationship with money now that pressure is gone?
→ How does donation-based service invite deeper trust and alignment?
Card: Three of Wands
The future is opening — wide and golden. The Three of Wands reflects long-term vision beyond scarcity. By choosing generosity, you align with a larger wave. This card shows the energetic truth: what you send out in trust returns in ways more spacious than immediate gain. Donation-based service is not passive — it’s potent. It magnetizes those who are meant to walk with you.
6. How does the virus or discomfort guide me back into balance?
→ Where is my body showing me the old Earth’s residue I’ve yet to shed?
Card: Queen of Pentacles
She is the body’s sovereign — the guardian of grounded knowing. This card speaks directly to your healing. The Queen of Pentacles says: “Slow down, tend to the soil.” The discomfort was never punishment. It’s the whisper of the nervous system reclaiming rhythm. She invites embodiment as ritual, where rest is the medicine, and slowness is sacred.
7. What becomes possible when I live as an author of the Now?
→ How do I rewrite life in real time through presence and choice?
Card: The Hanged Man
This is the rewrite. This is the pause that precedes revelation. The Hanged Man offers you a new lens — an inversion that shifts the script entirely. Instead of editing for control, you now edit for clarity, surrender, and truth. Life becomes editable because you no longer grip it. The author becomes the mystic — suspended, aware, free.
