I pulled a card from the Osho Zen deck for my evening ritual. What came to the surface was Adventure.
A small child, back to the viewer, stepping into a forest glowing with radiant rainbow light. The path ahead illuminated not by certainty, but by wonder. And in that moment, something in me stirred—a remembering, a nod from the old self to the new one, like two mirrors catching the same sliver of light.
I’ve been walking this rogue path for a while now—part guerrilla blogger, part digital wanderer, part learner who refuses to sit still. But the card reminded me: the path isn’t paved with plans. It’s lit by play.
There’s something quietly radical about that.
The image on the card isn’t just symbolic—it’s instructional. The child doesn’t carry a map, or a compass, or even a question. They carry presence. They step forward not with confidence but with curiosity. That feels like the heart of this whole guerrilla blogging, philognostic, rogue learner space I’m crafting. Not empire-building. Not niche-crushing. But adventure. Play. Discovery for its own sake.
And isn’t that the vibe we forget when we get too caught in the “shoulds” of grown-up creativity? When we treat our blog like a content machine instead of a digital treehouse built in a forest of strange ideas?
The Path Appears As You Walk
I think of the Tao Te Ching here. The old sage, Lao Tzu, whispering across time: “A good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.” That’s the child on the card. That’s the fool in the tarot. That’s the rogue learner in all of us.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s the only way to move forward in this chaotic age of algorithms, overstimulation, and productivity porn. Not with hustle. But with play.
Adventure, as the card reminds me, isn’t something you wait for. It’s something you bring. It lives in the willingness to get lost, to follow the rainbow into the unknown, to let the blog post write you for a change. It’s what happens when we trade the expert’s voice for the explorer’s wonder.
The Inner Child is the True Pathfinder
There’s a child in me who’s been waiting patiently by the edge of the forest. Waiting for the grown-up to stop strategising and just go. That child doesn’t ask about audience segmentation. That child doesn’t care about monetisation funnels. That child wants to build a rope swing out of syntax and send it soaring into the unknown.
That child knows where the magic is.
When I think about my blog, my courses, my learning adventures—I want to bring that energy in. Not as a gimmick. As a guidepost. I want to follow the threads that light up my imagination and share them like breadcrumbs for anyone else stumbling through the woods. That’s what being a rogue learner means to me: not hoarding knowledge, but playing with it like Legos and seeing what structures emerge.
A Practice for You, If You’re Listening
If you’re reading this, maybe the card has a message for you too. Maybe it’s time to loosen the grip on your content calendar and follow the thing that tugs at your inner child’s sleeve.
Here’s a little evening practice I’ve started doing, and you’re welcome to steal it:
- Pull a card (any deck will do—tarot, oracle, or even a random book quote).
- Sit with it in silence for five minutes. Let the image or words breathe inside you.
- Ask: “What would my inner child do with this?”
- Write—not for performance, but for play.
You don’t have to publish it. But if you do, do it like you’re leaving a note in a bottle for another wanderer to find.
The Rainbow Is Not the Destination
It’s easy to romanticise the rainbow, to chase the elusive glow and think we need to find the pot of gold. But this card doesn’t promise that. It simply says: walk toward what lights you up.
And that, for me, is the adventure.
Not answers. Not clarity. Not even success as it’s traditionally defined. But the thrill of stepping into the unknown, guided by something as simple—and as sacred—as curiosity.
Follow the flicker of the rainbow just to see where it goes.
And if you’re out there wandering too, maybe I’ll see you in the forest.
What lights you up these days? What adventure are you being invited to step into—even if it feels small or strange or totally impractical? I’d love to hear about it. Drop a comment or send me a message. Let’s trade stories under the stars.