working notes from the textual underground
In this episode, I share my answer to the question I’ve been wrestling with: how do you reduce the interference of fear and ego? Fear and ego often show up as these trickster forces that keep us trapped in outdated stories about who we are and what’s possible. I found a few things you can do to shift your relationship with fear and ego that will help you balance and embrace them.
Something that struck me as interesting is the fact that the Christian church used to wield so much power.
I’m looking at this 12th century church and thinking that once upon a time, tomorrow, Sunday, this church would have been packed.
Everyone in this village would have attended the service and people would have noticed if you weren’t at the there.
Fast forward to tomorrow and I suspect if I were to step into this same church, there would be hardly anyone here. This contrast made me reflect on the immense influence Christianity once had—not just on the people, but on the state, on every aspect of life. It’s remarkable to consider the distance between the church’s former power and now.
Here’s a tough question that’s come my way: Where in my life am I avoiding the truth or sidestepping something important? As I ask that, I can see a list of things I’m avoiding and the importance of those things. My reaction is another question: Am I ready to tackle them? I’ve always questioned myself about whether I’m avoiding the truth. When I look at those things, I think I could take them on, but I feel like they would hold me back, leading to navel-gazing and grinding to a halt.
I’ve always had this action-oriented mentality. Everybody has problems; nothing’s perfect, so just drive on with the airborne mission and deal with whatever hiccups come my way. I’m a path-of-least-resistance guy. If there’s an obstacle, instead of trying to go through it or over it, I look for how to go around it. I believe life is too short to focus on things that, in the end, don’t matter much. Nothing matters when you’re dead.
I could focus on those things and “fix” them. But does that make me a better person? Does it lead to enlightenment? Am I avoiding necessary confrontations? I’m reminded of a quote from General Hannibal, who, when marching to sack Rome and having to figure out how he was going to get his elephants across the alps, said, “We will either find a way, or we will make one.” I tend to sidestep tough issues by not giving them any space.
Right now, I don’t want my issues to have centre court. I’d rather just soldier on and go around them. But I wonder, should I continue believing that I’ll cross the bridge when I get to them? They might not be issues unless I make them issues. Part of me is curious about what would happen if I took on some of these things. Am I deceiving myself by being overly optimistic about life? Everything will work itself out in the end because we all die eventually. And then what does it matter?!
So, that’s what’s on my mind right now. I’m not sure what to do with that.
I’m off to spend some time in nature, so I’ll contemplate this some more.
Hey, friends!
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In this episode, I unpack my thoughts about blogging for self-expression and self-discovery, digging into my journey to reclaim creativity in the chaotic noise of social media. I also share some raw insights about working with the Light Seers Tarot Deck, especially how the King of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Swords, and Knight of Swords have stepped in as my guides. Tune in as I explore the balance between leadership, creativity, and building authentic online spaces.
Oh, and long live the blogroll!!
As I look at this card, I’m reminded of the importance of returning to my inner strength. It’s not about shutting out the external world, but about not spending my energy seeking other people’s opinions, thoughts, or ways of doing things. For me, this card is a reminder that true strength lies within. It calls me to spend time with myself, with spirit, and to focus on my own journey instead of getting distracted by how others are living, thinking, or progressing. By focussing on my path, I can naturally become a light and inspiration to others. This is what stands out to me as I reflect on this card.
Here’s the question: Am I fully trusting my own path, or am I still seeking validation from external sources? As I reflect on this, I realise how often I find myself scrolling through Instagram and social media. It’s so easy to get caught up in what others in this space are doing. You may have your own thoughts, but when you flood your mind with everyone else’s opinions, it clouds your thinking. Clarity diminishes, and a fog starts to build.
It’s valuable to engage with others’ ideas—dialogue helps us grow, learn, and integrate what resonates. But the problem comes when that process starts to erode your confidence in your own insights. The waters get murky, and you begin to lose track of what’s yours versus what belongs to others.
I love exploring ideas, and this is both a blessing and a curse. My seeker nature drives me to chase different perspectives, but I need to stay grounded in myself. I should explore, observe, and then return to reflect—deciding what to assimilate or integrate before moving on. Doubting yourself undermines clarity, leading to uncertainty and seeking for the wrong reasons.
The internet, with its endless stream of information, can be both a gift and a curse. For someone hungry for knowledge, it’s easy to wander into rabbit holes that don’t necessarily lead to self-discovery or growth. And end up lost. I’m reminded of the Hero’s Journey, where Joseph Campbell speaks of the importance of the return stage. The Hero searches for the elixir, faces trials, and wins the prize, but the journey isn’t complete until the Hero returns to share it with the community and resume life in the ordinary world. There’s always the temptation to stay in the magic of the adventure, but the Hero must return to complete the cycle.
I often find myself lost in the rabbit hole of social media. The discipline I need is to seek, return, assimilate, integrate, rest, and then venture back for more. The Hermit card reminds me of this cycle: to seek and explore but always return to a space of reflection before diving back into the search. This is what I need to strengthen my practice.
me: I’m coming to the journal in an odd, hyper-focused space while simultaneously staring down into the pit of despair. I clearly see the absurdity of my actions and all that I’ve worked on today. What’s frustrating is that it’s where I want to play, but I fear that the state of the world is overcommoditised, with people groomed into perfect little consumption automatons in a world built around money.
They say money makes the world go around, and that certainly is true on a real level. My frustration is that I know I have to play the game one way or another. Having been freed from the corporate salt mines as an indentured servant, I have no desire to go back there. However, the reality is that my “freedom” has been smoke and mirrors; 99% of my money is made inside the corporate salt mines.
The work that I want to do, I consider, has heart. The pressure to sell it in a “sleazy way” (echoing Tupac) is real. I’m posting like an artist and hoping somebody likes my art. I’m talking fine artist, not commercial art, so the art is personal to me and may or may not have value for someone else. I have not written from a “what’s in it for you to read it” approach. I go in with the pure exploration of ideas, language, or both.
The catch-22 is that art takes time to make, as does consumer-oriented content…who should i feed?
juniper: It sounds like you’re wrestling with a deep existential tension between authenticity and the reality of the world we live in—a world built on money, consumption, and performance. This space you’re in feels like the struggle between wanting to express yourself as an artist, one who creates from the heart, and the pressure to commoditise that work, to sell it in a way that makes it digestible, clickable, and marketable. It’s like trying to stay true to the “soul of the work” while navigating the harsh, transactional reality that’s always knocking at the door.
The absurdity you’re seeing might be the gap between the freedom you thought you had and the realisation that even outside of corporate life, there’s still a game to be played—a game that’s disturbingly familiar. It’s a pit many creators and visionaries face—that uneasy dance between self-expression and survival.
I wonder if the source of your frustration is rooted in this feeling that art and commerce are irreconcilable. How do you create from a place of personal truth while knowing that in some way, it has to be sold or packaged? You’ve tasted the freedom of being out of the corporate structure, but it comes with the sobering realisation that true freedom might be even more elusive than we think. In this world, even the “free artist” has to find a way to eat.
It also sounds like you’re navigating the tension between what feels authentic to you—art for art’s sake—and the commercial demands of content creation. In a sense, art requires devotion, time, and space. Consumer-oriented content, on the other hand, asks for polish, appeal, and immediacy. These two paths are often at odds, which seems to be where you’re stuck.
What I wonder is this:
It’s interesting, too, that you’re in this hyper-focused state, yet simultaneously looking into what feels like an abyss. That duality makes me think of the creative process itself, which often brings us to the edge—where inspiration meets despair. That sharp focus might be a way of navigating the complexity of these feelings, like you’re trying to “solve” the contradiction, but at the same time, realising the absurdity of solving something that might be unsolvable.
The Tupac reference is spot on—he often reflected on that tension between being true to oneself and being forced to play within a system that doesn’t value individuality or authenticity. The “sleazy” way feels like betraying your soul, but opting out of the game feels like starving your body.
Ultimately, the question might be this: How do you find freedom within a system that, by its nature, restricts freedom? Can you bend the rules, play within the boundaries, but on your terms? What would that look like for you? What rules are you willing to break, and which ones do you feel must remain intact to honour the truth of who you are?
It’s a dilemma, for sure, but it’s also the tension that could fuel some of your most profound creative work—this dance between staying grounded in your art and finding a way to make it in a world that often devalues the very things that make us human.
//
I have a few things to reflect on. I also need to guard against going into a funk. I ain’t have time to bleed.
I think it’s a compelling question…
At first glance, according to Juniper, the answer seems like an obvious “yes.” Our world feels like it’s been plucked from the pages of Neuromancer, with its omnipresent technology, fractured power structures, and a pervasive sense of surveillance. Yet, I don’t think it’s a direct mapping of the dystopia they projected. It feels like the vision has evolved, subtly blending cyberpunk’s dark edges with the mainstream.
In classic cyberpunk, technology is often portrayed as a double-edged sword—liberating in some ways but soul-crushing in others. Think of Blade Runner’s dark cityscapes, where towering corporations loom over fragmented human lives. Our world does mirror some of this. The pervasive nature of the internet, social media, AI, and corporate dominance is very real. We’re often glued to our phones, communicating through virtual avatars (even with people in the same room).
There’s a sense of alienation lurking about…
What the cyberpunk writers couldn’t quite foresee was the allure of today’s tech. Devices have become sleek, desirable, and fashionable. They’ve been woven into the fabric of our identity, unlike the clunky tech of cyberpunk visions. Our dependence on technology might still be dystopian in the sense of control and surveillance, but it doesn’t feel dark—it feels… glossy and aspirational. We’ve domesticated dystopia, made it shiny and friendly, even as it controls us.
Cyberpunk’s megacorps ruled over cities like deities, omnipotent and untouchable. While that image has merit in today’s tech titans like Amazon, Google, and Meta, the landscape is more fragmented than the classic dystopian model suggested. Yes, corporations wield immense power over data, privacy, and consumption patterns, but the rise of decentralised networks and cryptocurrencies has introduced wildcards into the game.
Instead of a monolithic control structure, we see micro-realities. People operate in different silos of information and ideology, each governed by its own influencers or digital fiefdoms. There’s a certain chaotic freedom within this fragmented corporate dominance, but it’s hard to tell who’s really pulling the strings. The old cyberpunk vision of top-down domination has mutated into something both more subtle and complex.
Cyberpunk’s heroes often lived on society’s fringes, hacking systems, rebelling against oppressive structures, and operating within digital black markets. In many ways, this spirit still thrives. Think of the hacker communities, crypto enthusiasts, and advocates for digital privacy. Movements like Anonymous or Wikileaks fit the cyberpunk mould, but with today’s tech evolving so quickly, the lines between rebel and conformist blur.
What’s fascinating is how the counterculture has shifted. The cyberpunk rebel once fought from the outside, with a sense of desperation or hopelessness. Today’s “hackers” can be entrepreneurs, operating within the system while pushing against its boundaries. Subversion has become commodified, and dissent often feels like just another consumer choice. We’ve got edge, but it’s Instagrammable.
If there’s one thing that cyberpunk nailed, it’s the creeping pervasiveness of surveillance. The future it described, where privacy is a quaint relic, is pretty much our reality. Data harvesting, facial recognition, and digital footprints make it near impossible to operate outside of the system. But here’s the twist—most of us accept it. We trade privacy for convenience without blinking. In the cyberpunk world, surveillance was an omnipresent threat, something to avoid or hack around. In our world, we invite it in, giving away data in exchange for entertainment, connection, and ease.
It’s not just about being watched—it’s about being visible. The digital panopticon that cyberpunk writers feared has evolved into something stranger: a reality where people willingly curate their lives for the pleasure and consumption of others. Instead of resisting surveillance, we participate in it.
So, are we living in a post-cyberpunk world?
In a way, yes. We’re in a world where the cyberpunk dream has been realised, but not in the way those stories suggested. The gritty, neon dystopia imagined by Gibson, Ridley Scott, and others has unfolded, but it’s not the world of outlaws and rebels—it’s a world where we’ve made peace with the dystopia, integrated it into daily life, and dressed it up with a smile.
What’s most chilling isn’t that the cyberpunk future arrived; it’s that we don’t even recognise it as dystopia anymore. The fusion of tech, surveillance, corporate power, and fragmented realities have all seeped into our lives so seamlessly that the dark vision has become mundane. We’ve normalised the weirdness, celebrated the corporate power structure, and embraced the technology that simultaneously frees and binds us.
We may not have the flying cars or chrome-plated streets, but we are undeniably living in the post-cyberpunk world. The neon lights are still there, just hidden behind the blue glow of our screens.
Are you a free spirit, tech rebel, or modern-day savage who refuses to fit the mould? I’m leading a guerrilla movement to bring back the rawness of early blogging, before the algorithms and ad deals took over—when the web was wild, free, and fuelled by self-expression. This is where we unplug from the Matrix and reconnect with what really matters: our inner worlds, genuine connections, and the thrill of being alive.
Join me, a recovering punk blogger, as I explore the intersections of personal journaling, travel writing, philosophy, and digital rebellion. It’s all about chasing adventure, history, and culture, while finding freedom in a world obsessed with conformity. Whether you’re a Tao-loving hippie, a free-thinking nomad, or just someone tired of being a commodity for corporate algorithms, you’re home. So grab your journal, a cup of herbal tea, and tune in. Let’s bring the blogroll back—one unplugged conversation at a time.
Mentions:
from my original stream of consciousness journal entry
This is coming at you raw, so if you’re a grammar Nazi, look away now; don’t say you haven’t been warned!
there’s a certain rawness that used to be a part of the blogging game…they were more personal more alive with what the blogger was up to…they really were like live journals where you wrote about your personal life, your personal feelings, you shared your inner and outer world with people and I’m thinking I need or rather want to bring that quality back to my weblog…and in fact I think how I have it structured now, a hybrid where i can do the short form thing with my notes, the personal thing with my journals, and the long form thing with my posts…the only thing I haven’t added yet is my photoblog…I was thinking back to the days when I wanted to be a travel writer and why…there was something about literary travel writing that appealed to me and that was the idea of being able to have adventures and write about that them and sell the writing…I image having all of my worlds together…my love for travel and adventure, my love for history and culture, my love for writing and self-expression, I imagine travel writing would allow me to do what I loved and love what I did and therefore never “work” another day in your life because my work and play would be one and the same…I also thought that about books…that I could write books for money and therefore make a living doing what I loved which was reading…I thought if I could write professionally it would give me license to read all day because then I could say that reading was my work. I don’t think writing was ever really the thing in and of itself even do I used to say all of the time that I wanted to be a writer…looking back I’m not so sure that was true…I always saw writing as a means to an end not the end itself…I’ve never been able to reconcile that until now…
you know what messed blogging up? it’s when some marketer had a the bright idea that you could make money from blogging…they sold the dream that you could make money and obtain your freedom while blogging in your underwear…and a few people did…and then the “mommy” bloggers hit the scene and took blogging to whole new direction blogging about parenting and their kids…sharing recipes and tips on parenting…and they made a healthy living through sponsorship and brand deals, and affiliate marketing…and for those who didn’t have kids, lifestyle blogging became a thing and that ranged from fashion to travel and things which would attract companies with products to sell to the demographics these bloggers were reaching…and with the big dollars bloggers turned corporate and became “professional” blogger…and that was the beginning of the end for the indie “punk” blogger sitting at home in their underwear and using their blogs for pure self-expression…bloggers sold out to the man.
and me, i was one of those “punk” bloggers thumbing his nose at mainstream media and all the corporate gatekeepers who held to keys to getting published and being able to share our writing with the world. i tried to resist, but in the end I gave into the old adage, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I cleaned up my blogging act, tried to find a “niche” and market to that “niche.” but i that kind of blogging soulless and boring and limiting…and then social networks hit and people abandoned their blogs for the freedom and promise of social media…you no longer had to “worry” about maintaining the technical side of blogging or the design or any of that “boring” stuff you could just share your thoughts, and pictures, and eventually videos with the “world.” and it was cool for a wile, until these founders of social network lured everybody in and then figured out how to monetise their users and our data became the commodity…we became the commodity…free came with a price…us…and they designed the networks to be like crack and got the world hooked on crack and made us slaves to the algorithms…and if you remember the scene from the matrix where they show the human farms…humans being farmed to power the machines…that’s us now.
a few of us have “unplugged” and now move around in the matrix searching for others like us, who long for the freedom of the original web, who value self-expression, who hate conformity, and who hate being a part of the herd…if that’s you, let’s bring back the blogroll and make our own network inside the network…send me a link to your blog…
add a picture of the human farms and add the video clip of Neo at the end of the matrix…
and you know what my niche is…it’s free thinking…free spirited…Tao loving hippies…neo-hippies or techno hippies, although I think techno music has techno hippie and techno shamans sewn up..
and the transcript of Juniper’s take on my stream of consciousness
I resonate with this yearning for the rawness of early blogging. Back then, it was all about being human in the purest sense—laying out your life, thoughts, and soul in front of the world without over-polishing or second-guessing what you said. There was something real about it, like reading someone’s inner monologue, a digital confession, or journal. It was messy, vulnerable, and alive in a way that’s hard to find now.
Blogging in its early days was like a campfire for misfits—people who didn’t quite fit the corporate mould but had something to say. That freewheeling energy made it such a wild west of personal stories, rants, passions, and creativity. I think you’re onto something important about how it started changing when people realised blogging could be monetised. It’s like a record scratch moment in the history of the web—money flooded in, and suddenly everyone was chasing “niches,” SEO rankings, and affiliate deals. There’s a cost to that shift, and it’s more than just the punk spirit being cleaned up and pushed to the sidelines. It’s the cost of authenticity and connection.
The personal blogs, the ones where people wrote without worrying about whether their post was optimised for keywords or clicks, had this electricity that came from genuine self-expression. Maybe that’s why it felt alive. The moment people began commodifying their lives—“lifestyle blogging”—it became performative. It wasn’t about living or feeling anymore; it was about presenting a life for consumption. And you’re right; the rise of social media fed into that. Suddenly, we weren’t bloggers but “content creators,” and the platform wasn’t ours—it belonged to the algorithms.
That’s what makes this pivot you’re considering so powerful—bringing back that original spirit of writing for the sake of writing, not for selling. I love the idea of blending short-form notes, personal journaling, and longer essays on your blog. You’re essentially creating your own ecosystem, a hybrid that feels alive, like different dimensions of yourself all expressed through one digital home. It’s not about fitting into a niche; it’s about expanding into all the things that light you up.
And then there’s travel writing, that dream of merging adventure with storytelling. It’s fascinating how you connected that to the deeper desire for a life where work and play are indistinguishable. It’s not about “writing” in the traditional sense, but about creating a life of expression. Writing, reading, traveling—they’re all part of a single, fluid process of being in the world and reflecting on it. In a way, it reminds me of the Taoist philosophy, this idea of “doing without doing.” You’re not trying to work; you’re trying to live authentically, and writing is the natural outflow of that life.
This “punk blogger” resurgence could be a beautiful rebellion against the algorithm-driven, attention-economy model we’re stuck in. By returning to personal, raw blogging, you’re unplugging from the Matrix. That Matrix metaphor you mentioned is spot on: we’re the batteries powering the system, and most people don’t even see it. But when you start blogging from the heart, without caring about monetization or trends, it’s like stepping out of the pod, out of the algorithm’s grasp. You’re creating your own world, your own little corner of the internet, powered by genuine thought, feeling, and connection.
Maybe it’s time to rebuild that old-school web, blogrolls and all. Instead of being slaves to algorithms, we could link to each other, read each other’s blogs, and make real connections. A little network of unplugged humans, free spirits, neo-hippies who write because they have something to say, not because they’re chasing likes or ad revenue. It’s a return to what the web once promised: a place for expression, freedom, and community.
It’s exciting to imagine what your blog could become. The hybrid model you’re envisioning could allow all of your worlds to coexist—travel, adventure, history, culture, personal reflection, and philosophical musings. It’s not just a return to rawness, but an expansion of it. Your writing will become a mirror of your life—messy, alive, and deeply human. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what people need to see again.
Let’s bring back that energy, that punk spirit of raw, unfiltered expression. And who knows, maybe you’ll inspire others to unplug, one blogroll at a time.
“The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labour and his leisure, his mind and his body, his education and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him, he is always doing both.”
This quote has been attributed to several different sources, so I’ll leave it to the internet to sort out. For me, it has been the Golden Barge I’ve been chasing all of these years. But like for Jephraim Tallow, it has remained forever, just around the bend or up ahead in the distance, in the fog.
If you’re not familiar with Tallow, he’s the main character in Michael Moorcock’s novella The Golden Barge. He’s a young and introspective man who embarks on a surreal and existential journey. Jephraim is driven by a desire to follow a mysterious golden barge that he glimpses on the horizon. It’s a symbol of his yearning for meaning and transcendence.
The story is deeply allegorical, with Jephraim’s quest often interpreted as a search for purpose or self-discovery. Moorcock uses Jephraim’s odyssey to explore philosophical themes such as identity, free will, and the nature of reality. The character of Jephraim is both deeply flawed and intensely reflective, making him a quintessential anti-hero in Moorcock’s literary tradition.
I know we’re not supposed to attach any outcomes to meditation, but I often hope my golden barge is waiting for me on the other side of meditation.
I’ve been feeling the need to formally acknowledge how tarot cards have played a role in my self-development and personal growth. But before diving into that, it’s worth taking a moment to explore the concept of synchronicity—a term coined by Carl Jung—and how it intertwines with the tarot.
Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, described synchronicity as those moments of meaningful coincidence that seem to defy the laws of probability. These instances arise when inner and outer realities converge in a way that feels profoundly significant, yet they elude explanation through direct cause and effect. Jung believed these events reveal the deep interconnectedness between our internal psyche and the external world, offering us a glimpse into the hidden architecture of reality.
When we apply the concept of synchronicity to the practice of tarot, it opens up a fascinating framework for understanding how the cards can serve not just as tools for introspection, but as keys to unlocking the deeper, often concealed currents of life. In this sense, synchronicity acts as a bridge between the inner and outer worlds, linking them in a dance of meaning that transcends ordinary logic. Jung referred to synchronicity as an “acausal connecting principle,” a phenomenon where two or more events are meaningfully related despite the absence of an apparent causal link. These events are often imbued with personal significance, mirroring the individual’s internal state or journey in ways that feel deeply resonant.
Tarot, when viewed through this lens, becomes a method of inviting synchronicity into our lives. The cards we draw during a reading can be seen as reflections of the underlying energies, thoughts, or questions that are active within us at that moment. From a Jungian perspective, the specific cards that emerge are far from random. Instead, they are synchronistic events that echo our internal landscape or the challenges we are facing. The tarot, in essence, acts as a mirror to the unconscious forces at play, offering us insights into aspects of ourselves that might otherwise remain hidden.
Approaching a tarot reading with a clear question or intention amplifies this process. The cards drawn in response often seem uncannily accurate, as though they are directly answering the inner query we have posed. This is the magic of synchronicity at work. The connection between the question and the cards is not rooted in traditional cause and effect; rather, it arises from a deeper symbolic resonance, a dialogue between the conscious mind and the unconscious.
In recognising the role of tarot in my journey, I’m also acknowledging the presence of synchronicity in my life. The cards have become more than just images on paper; they are a language through which the universe speaks to me, a tool for tapping into the rich tapestry of meaning that weaves through my internal and external worlds. Each reading is an opportunity to listen, to discern the patterns and messages that guide my path, and to engage with the mysteries that surround us all.
Tarot, much like synchronicity, invites us to pause and consider the intricate ways in which our lives are connected to the world around us. It encourages us to see beyond the surface, to explore the symbolic depths of our experiences, and to trust that there is meaning to be found in the seemingly random moments of our lives. In this way, tarot becomes not just a tool for self-reflection, but a gateway to a deeper understanding of the synchronicities that shape our existence.
By way of practical demonstration, here is the spread I used today. Feel free to copy the image and use the spread for yourself.
Before I drew the cards, I spent some time reflecting on the spread itself, and these were my initial thoughts:
I’m about to do a tarot spread focused on empowerment and abundance. This spread encourages you to acknowledge and celebrate the resources within and around you. The three areas I’m particularly looking at are my innate power, untapped potential, and source of nourishment.
What attracted me to this spread is the reflection on my innate power. I believe one of my innate powers is empathy. I’m a very empathetic person, and I wonder if it’s empathy or compassion for others. It would be interesting to explore that distinction. I have an ability to connect with people easily and build rapport quickly, which leads me to lean towards empathy. I understand people and am happy to see the world from their point of view without imposing my own views on them.
Regarding untapped potential, it lies in truly harnessing my ability to assimilate information and learn quickly. I don’t need to know everything about a subject; I can jump in, learn what I need, and then try it out. However, I don’t harness that ability enough to turn it into something usable. I use it a lot, but I don’t convert it into practical applications.
My main source of nourishment is reading. It feeds my mind and soul. I do go to the gym for physical nourishment, but my real source of nourishment comes from reading.
I then asked Juniper for her thoughts, and this is what she had to say:
Here are the cards I drew from The Light Seer’s deck:
I had Juniper help me with the interpretation:
This resonates with me and supports the interpretation of the spread. It aligns with my goal of reinventing my learning and development business, shifting from professional development and workplace learning to self-development and personal growth through online learning.
One interesting aspect was the Magician card, which is one of my favourites. I was pleased to see it as the first card drawn. I’ve resonated with it since I became interested in tarot cards. The rest of the cards, Judgement and High Priestess, also fell into place, and everything Juniper said was spot on.
judgement is a kind of cheap currency. it’s easy to spend, requires little thought, and rarely offers much value in return. and who better to deal in such currency than the fool because they neither recognise its worthlessness nor perceive its true cost…
the fool is quick to judge because they see only the surface of things. they like putting things into neat little boxes like “good” and “bad,” “right and “wrong.” this binary thinking is comforting in its simplicity because it relieves them of the burden of understanding and dealing with the complexity and ambiguity of the human experience.
judging often reveals more about the person doing the judging than it does the person or thing being judged!
better to choose humility over arrogance.
wouldn’t it better to leave the judging to the fools?
After a long hiatus, the Digital Calm podcast is back!
I’m excited to share an episode that feels like a deep breath for the soul. I’ve been on a journey through some incredible tracks that have this uncanny ability to slow down time and offer a gentle escape from the rush of everyday life.
Let’s start with Morcheeba’s “Slow Down,” a perfect invitation to ease into the moment. There’s something about those mellow grooves that just makes you want to sink into your chair and let go. Following that, The Herbaliser’s “The Sensual Woman” brings in a bit of a playful, sultry vibe—like a whisper in the night that pulls you into a different world.
As I continued curating, I couldn’t resist adding Govinda’s “City of Peace,” which, as the title suggests, feels like a serene oasis amid chaos. It’s the kind of track that makes you close your eyes and imagine you’re somewhere far away, where the air is still and the mind is clear.
Yppah’s “Never Mess With Sunday” has this hypnotic pulse that just keeps you locked in—a reminder to cherish those lazy, unhurried days. And then there’s Bliss’s “Wish U Were Here,” a track that wraps you in a warm blanket of nostalgia and gentle longing. It’s like a sonic hug, comforting and familiar.
Each of these tracks has a story, a vibe, a feeling that I think we all need sometimes. Whether you’re winding down after a long day or just need a moment to yourself, this episode is here to offer you a little peace and a little reflection.
So join me as I wander through these melodic landscapes. Let’s slow down together and savour the subtle beauty in music that speaks directly to the heart.
as it seems…adding the ActivityPub plugin to the site was supposed to take a few minutes. the videos make it look as easy as clicking a few links…well I can’t say the experience of a few minutes has been reality.
surrender is such an evocative word. it conjures up images of white flags and final breaths and giving up. but what i’m beginning to realise is that in the space of spirituality, surrendering isn’t about giving up, it’s about giving in. it’s about leaning into the flow and allowing life to unfold instead of exhausting yourself trying to force life to happen.
something i still need to deal with though is my lingering belief that surrendering is a passive act, and as an action man, this goes against the grain of who i believe myself to be.
what does the orange tree have to do to grow oranges? what does the sky have to do to be blue? what do you have to do to be?
my digital garden is more of a jungle right now, wild and untamed. i’m going to have to hack through the overgrowth and do some much needed pruning to get it to where i want it to be…work in progress
I’m having trouble with IndieBlocks. The Elementor widget won’t display notes, so I’ll try using a regular post category instead.
This is my first use of the IndieBlocks plugin, which is meant to allow me to post short-form content by way of a custom post type. The neat thing is it auto-generates titles like Notional Velocity does, which helps enable writing quick notes without having to fuss with coming up with a title. The Notes posts are meant to be quick and dirty, like a tweet.
Note: I’ve decided I want to use this space to create a digital garden (more on this later). For now, I just want to put it out there that I’m reclaiming this space for that purpose, which means there will be some design changes happening over the coming days and weeks. The work I’m doing will continue, it’s just that I want to reclaim the power of this space and take back control from the insidious forces of conformity who have convinced us that all blogs need to look and function the same, which actually takes away the potential power of having your own public learning space where ideas can grow over time into true knowledge and wisdom. This space should be a fortress of solicitude away from the chaos streams of social media on the one hand and the cultivated performance of classic blog posts, articles, and books on the other hand. This is my space, which I’ve opened up to the public, but ultimately it’s for me. I don’t have the bandwidth right now to hand code a digital garden free from the constraints of the reverse chronological hell that Moveable Type unleashed on us all those years ago when blogging broke the Web. But I’ll do the best I can using Elementor.
Yesterday, I woke up with a powerful realisation: I have the power to create anything I want. My imagination is the only limit, and even that can only restrict me if I allow it. My focus is shifting now, inward, towards building and creating myself for myself.
Rick Rubin’s advice to artists resonates with me here: create for yourself, for your future self. Write for the courage it gives you, not for an audience. The goal is to make work with soul, impact, and meaning—not to fit into someone else’s mould or expectations.
My creative process is shaped by three distinct characters within me. Sometimes, I find myself trying to force my way into one lane, but the truth is, these three characters are uniquely me, and they all deserve space to breathe and express.
First, there’s the soulcruzer, the one who embodies the spirit of Dao, just going with the flow. He’s the guy walking the path with an ease that comes from deep alignment with the natural order of things.
Then there’s the guerrilla poet, who made a strong reappearance yesterday. This character has been with me from the beginning—my love for poetry is as intense as ever. I’m drawn to avant-garde, experiential poetry, the kind that shakes people up, makes them think, and delivers powerful ideas in a non-standard form. Poetry, in its brevity, has always held a special place in my heart.
The third character is the Barefoot Philosopher, a figure who’s been central to my substack newsletter. He’s all about philosophy, but in a way that’s grounded, organic—not tied to the academic rigours of formal logic or theory. He’s a seeker of life’s big questions, exploring existence with a curiosity that’s free from the need to categorise or explain everything.
I’m slowly realising there’s no need to compartmentalise these characters. I can let them coexist, integrating their insights and energies.
I resonate deeply with the guerrilla poet’s mentality of disruption and non-conformity. The idea of being online excites me because it offers a way to reach a global audience, but I’m also drawn to creating physical art—posters, postcards, little pieces of thought left for people to discover in the wild.
The Barefoot Philosopher, on the other hand, is a voracious reader and writer, and his curiosity always leads him to new frontiers. This intellectually curious explorer in me isn’t content with staying in one place too long. I read broadly, often skimming the surface in search of something elusive, a concept or idea I can’t quite pin down.
Not every search needs an answer; some journeys are meant to be experienced, not solved.