Journal — 17th of August – The New Earth
Last night was heavy.
A bass thump from some party somewhere kept moving through the ground —
deep, unsettling, like it was in my body.
Indigestion lingered, and sleep was broken.
I woke at 6:50 — the latest in a while.
My left ankle still sore from yesterday’s bump.
I sat longer in meditation,
though skipped some of my usual exercises.
A sadness hung over me,
a quiet wish just to get on with the day.
I opened the Bhagavad Gita,
the New Testament,
and the Diamond Cutter.
The page I landed on spoke of
stepping into another’s shoes —
your employee, a friend, a stranger.
What do they need?
What do they want?
Not just thinking for myself.
But truly embodying the other.
To work for the one,
is to work for the many.
It stirred something.
A practice of dissolving self-interest.
Asking, what do they truly need?
If I am here to serve, then let it be so.
Today, I feel no pull to work.
Instead, space.
A reminder of why I am here.
Perhaps in a few days,
I’ll take a train deeper into Sri Lanka,
visit an ancient town,
wander in adventure before I leave.
For now, I’ll eat what’s in the fridge,
let go,
and give it up to God.
Dream fragments
Twin sex workers offering their time.
Drugs exchanged — something passed to me.
A phone hacked.
A rush of trying to get away.
A strange mix of desire and escape.
—Tarot spread—
1. How do I listen when the world’s noise shakes me awake?
Is the thumping beneath me resistance, or is it rhythm calling me into alignment?
Card: The Empress
The noise that kept you restless isn’t just distraction — it’s a mirror of life’s fertility. The Empress reminds you that even chaos is womb-like, pulsing with creative rhythm. Instead of resisting the thumping, hear it as the heartbeat of the earth reminding you that you’re alive, nourished, and connected.
2. What is the gift inside a restless night?
Is my body asking for deeper surrender, or is my spirit resisting stillness?
Card: The Lovers
The gift is choice — the union of surrender and resistance. The Lovers shows you that sleeplessness is not punishment but invitation: to choose harmony over division, to unite body and spirit in intimacy. The gift is learning that stillness and restlessness are not enemies, but dance partners.
3. How do I embody true service?
When I place myself in another’s shoes, what do they most truly need?
Card: Justice
True service is not about pleasing others — it is about balance and truth. Justice asks you to weigh what is really needed with clarity, rather than assumption. To serve is not to disappear into another’s shadow but to see what restores equilibrium, and act from fairness, not sacrifice.
4. What role does sadness play on my path?
Is it grief weighing me down, or a threshold guiding me toward release?
Card: The High Priestess
Sadness is not heaviness to escape but mystery to enter. The High Priestess shows sadness as the veil between what you see and what you know within. It is a threshold — a hidden doorway guiding you deeper into intuition, reminding you to trust the wisdom that cannot be spoken but only felt.
5. What are my dreams teaching me about desire and escape?
Are they mirrors of my hidden longings, or warnings of where I still run from presence?
Card: Temperance
Your dreams are the alchemy of both — mirrors of hidden longing and warnings of imbalance. Temperance invites you to blend desire with presence, rather than letting one overpower the other. The dream of indulgence is not a command but a reminder to harmonize inner fire with conscious choice.
6. How do I grow faith like a seed?
Am I tending the soil of my life, or clinging to outcomes that choke the sprout?
Card: Nine of Swords
Faith struggles when anxiety grips the night. The Nine of Swords shows that worry and clinging are the weeds choking the sprout. The lesson is not to force faith but to sit with the shadows until they dissolve. Growth comes not by controlling outcomes, but by releasing the grip of fear.
7. What happens when I give it all up to God?
What part of “me” still resists dissolving into that surrender?
Card: Two of Cups
When you give it up to God, surrender becomes union — the meeting of self with divine. The Two of Cups shows that the part of “you” that resists is the same part longing for intimacy with Source. To give it up is not to dissolve into nothing, but to enter into a sacred relationship, where resistance softens into communion.
