Tuesday Morning Journal
I had a rough night’s sleep. Kept trying to find a position that would ease the pain. Still, I woke around 6:30am — and felt more rested than I expected. I got up slowly and remembered the exercises Miracle Max gave me the last time I injured my back. We don’t speak anymore, but I recalled them clearly: leaning half off the bed, letting my head fall toward the floor, using gravity to decompress the spine. I did those, and they helped. I’ll keep them up throughout the day.
I moved into meditation. It wasn’t graceful. I pulled myself through Yenergy breathwork — grunting, groaning — but I did it.
I’ve been thinking about the course videos. I don’t like how my voice sounds in some of them — flat, monotone. If I were a participant, I wouldn’t want to listen to that version of me. So I might reshoot them today and start editing them back in. Not because I need them to be perfect, but because I want to be proud of them. I know I’m a perfectionist. This is a long road. And I have to accept where I’m at.
Pen mentioned something yesterday — why not take on some clients and charge? That would support me while I build New Earth. It’s a good point. I’m not sure why I resist it. Maybe it’s a vow I carry, following in the path of Buddha or Yeshua. Maybe Hermes too. Maybe it’s just ego. But I know this much: the core work — the teachings and programs — will remain donation-based. That’s not up for debate.
Still, maybe after South Africa — or after the New Year — I’ll open the books to a few private clients. That’s not selling out. That’s staying grounded while continuing the work. Reinvesting everything back into New Earth. So I can do this for the long term. Keep shelter over my head, keep showing up. Keep walking.
This is not a sprint.
It’s a sacred marathon.
Today I choose to be flexible.
To stand in my power.
To slow down.
To treat this like light work, not heavy burden.
And maybe that’s what this back injury came to teach me.
🌅 Morning Reflection
🔥 What’s the one thing I want to give energy to and progress even a little bit today?
Shooting the remaining course videos — depending on how long they take — and slowly beginning to edit them back into the course.
🧹 What am I releasing today?
The pressure to rush, and the false idea that charging for sacred work equals selling out.
👑 Who do I choose to be today?
Someone who trusts in the slow path. A servant of the sacred. A vessel who allows the Divine to move through — patiently, wisely, and without panic.
Would you like a symbolic image to accompany this entry — something that evokes flexibility, divine service, or healing through patience?
Tarot Spread
Cards: The Hanged Man, Knight of Wands, The Star, Eight of Cups, Justice, The Tower, Queen of Wands
Theme: Reversal, Reignition, and Sacred Courage
1. What is the invitation hidden inside this injury — and can I honour it as divine redirection?
Card: The Hanged Man
This injury is not punishment — it’s initiation. The Hanged Man calls you to suspend motion and surrender control, not out of weakness, but as a gateway into deeper perspective. The body halts so the soul can turn inward. Instead of resisting the pause, can you hang here long enough to receive the wisdom it brings? You are being shown what can only be seen upside-down — through stillness, not striving.
2. Where have I been producing from pressure instead of presence — and what shifts when I soften?
Card: Knight of Wands
You’ve been riding on willpower and urgency — the fire of devotion mixed with the fear of time. The Knight of Wands charges ahead with passion, but sometimes without grounding. You’re producing because you care so much — but that energy can burn you if it isn’t tempered. Soften, and the flame becomes sustainable. The videos, the course, the book — they don’t need to be finished fast, they need to be finished true.
3. How does perfectionism cloak the deeper fear of not being enough?
Card: The Star
The Star is your soul’s light — the pure essence that knows you are already worthy. But when this card shows up here, it reminds you that perfectionism often comes from a forgotten trust in your innate radiance. You are the star — even when dimmed by self-doubt. The fear that you won’t be received as you are has no home in the Star’s presence. You shine not by fixing — but by remembering.
4. What belief still says ‘to serve spiritually, I must suffer financially’?
Card: Eight of Cups
It’s time to walk away from the old paradigm. The Eight of Cups shows a quiet, sacred leaving — not because what came before was wrong, but because your soul is being called into a higher alignment. The vow of poverty, the suffering path, the idea that money dilutes the divine — it’s all a part of what you’re now being asked to leave behind. This card is your permission: to choose both service and support.
5. Where am I being invited to receive — without guilt, shame, or proving?
Card: Justice
Justice speaks of balance — of restoring right relationship between giving and receiving. If you give without allowing yourself to receive, the scales tilt, and resentment or exhaustion eventually follow. You are not here to prove your purity by depletion. You are here to serve in harmony. This is your moment to invite sacred reciprocity — not as ego, but as truth.
6. What would it mean to walk slower — and still trust I will arrive?
Card: The Tower
This is the hardest truth — and the most liberating one. The Tower tears down illusions: timelines, expectations, ego structures. Slowing down feels like danger to the part of you that clings to control — but in truth, it’s the foundation of real trust. This path is not linear. The Tower says: let it fall. Let everything that doesn’t serve your true arrival be reduced to ash. What remains is real. Unshakeable.
7. Who am I when the body weakens — but the soul remembers?
Card: Queen of Wands
Even in limitation, your fire burns. The Queen of Wands is not shaken by pain — she holds it, transmutes it, and turns it into sacred radiance. This card says: You are still powerful. You are still magnetic. Your soul remembers your mission even when your body falters. You walk with grace through the fire — not above it. Let her guide you. Let her remind you: You never lost your light. You’re learning how to wield it differently now.
