––– THE BLANK CANVAS OF A SUNDAY –––
I woke today around 5:20am. Some scraping upstairs again—it’s just the neighbour, the young father with his newborn. It’s a strange sensation, living beneath someone, sharing a ceiling. It reminds me of being in someone else’s space again. The tenant dynamic.
Last night I started re-editing the closing video of the cleanse course. I realised it could land deeper. It’s close now—just a few final strokes. I’m looking forward to finishing it.
Today is Sunday. A softer day. My aim is to spend some time on the orientation—though it’s been difficult to begin. Something about facing a blank canvas. But I remind myself: I’ve built a whole course from scratch. This too will shape itself, word by word, breath by breath.
––– THE SACRED TASK OF LETTING GO –––
There’s something lingering from the Old Earth—my belongings. Books, mostly. Things. The old self. I’ve been avoiding dealing with it. Maybe it’s not just logistics. Maybe it’s grief. Resistance. A hesitation to fully surrender the last remnants of who I was.
The truth is, I’m not even reading the books I brought here. I’m immersed in the New Earth. So what do I do? Maybe I find someone willing to hold them, maybe they’re read by others, maybe I never see them again. And maybe that’s okay. It doesn’t matter. Truly—it doesn’t.
But still, there are some things that need tending to. Some things to store. Some things to release.
––– WHO I CHOOSE TO BE –––
I may return to exercise today. It’s been nearly two weeks, forced rest, but I’m listening closely. My body has shifted. The gym feels metallic, but perhaps I’ll go—gently. No rush.
So, who do I choose to be today?
Someone aligned with authenticity.
Someone who listens to the quiet cues.
Someone who keeps moving through—not with urgency, but with grace.
Just keep moving through.
—Tarot spread—
1. What hidden wisdom is encoded within my current frustrations?
– What is the Divine asking me to see beneath the glitch, delay, or block?
🜁 Ten of Wands
This card reflects the weight you’ve been carrying—not just physical or mental, but energetic. The frustration with tech, with old dynamics, with residual belongings… it’s all pointing to one thing: you’ve taken on more than is necessary for this chapter. The wisdom here is not to push harder, but to surrender the burden. You are being asked to walk with less so you can rise with more. Let what’s heavy fall.
2. Where am I being called to honour my own sacred achievements?
– What part of me is ready to be seen and celebrated, without needing validation?
🜁 Death & Rebirth
The transformation is undeniable. You are not who you were. And yet, you haven’t fully stopped to honour what has died and what has emerged. This card invites ceremony. Celebration. Pause. You’ve built something rare—a frequency, a sanctuary, a methodology birthed from your own sacred undoing. Let the old self rest in peace, and let the new one rise, crowned.
3. How do I discern what to carry forward—and what to let go of with grace?
– Which pieces of my past self still carry life, and which are simply weight?
🜁 The Chariot
Movement is here, but not all things can come with you. The Chariot speaks to alignment. Every item, project, person—even thought—must now be tested against your direction. Does it serve the journey? Does it belong in the vessel? The key is not speed, but sacred steering. Let go of anything that makes the reins heavy.
4. In what ways is the New Earth asking me to slow down and refine?
– What would it look like to build from presence, not pressure?
🜁 The Tower
The Tower here is your undoing of pace. Not punishment—liberation. Your recent frustrations were not setbacks, but sacred interruptions. Structures built on pressure must fall so the temple of presence can rise. You are being asked to build slower, from the breath, from the body, from resonance. Let the collapse come—it clears the way for truth.
5. How can I complete the energetic loops still tethered to the Old Earth?
– What message, item, or memory is still asking for conscious release?
🜁 Three of Pentacles
Collaboration holds the key. But not with everyone. The loops may complete through sacred witnessing—sharing the story, asking for help, or simply creating something that honours the ending. The right allies will help transmute the final threads of Old Earth. Speak what was unsaid. Return what is no longer yours. Let this be an act of co-creation, not burden.
6. What does authentic presence look like in this new cycle of embodiment?
– How do I lead without proving, serve without rescuing, and share without shaping?
🜁 Six of Cups
This is a return to essence. To simplicity. To joy without performance. Presence is not about projecting depth—it’s about being with what is, fully, innocently, like a child returning home. You don’t need to impress, prove, or protect. Your presence is the field. Let it be soft. Let it be real. That’s what people remember.
7. How do I meet the blank canvas with creative trust instead of fear?
– What part of me still hesitates before the unknown—and what does it need from me now?
🜁 The Fool
You are being asked to leap. Not recklessly—but wholeheartedly. The blank canvas is your divine partner. Let it pull you into wonder. That hesitation you feel? It’s simply the echo of an old self that feared uncertainty. But the new you knows: the unknown is home. Every masterpiece begins in the void.
