Even when the map fades, and the path disappears, you’re still exactly where you need to be. The soul doesn’t move in straight lines—it spirals. If you feel uncertain today, breathe… you’re in the sacred middle of your unfolding.

A quiet spark is rising. 🌒 The Moon grows through Pisces into Aries, asking you to listen first—then move with clean intention. Today’s 7 Universal Day opens a chamber of insight, while Sun conjunct Pluto in Aquarius activates a deep identity reset. Expect synchronicities, truth-pressure, and one choice that changes the next 28 days.

The concept of “healthy food” is often presented as simple and universal: eat more fruits and vegetables, avoid processed foods, choose low-fat or low-sugar options, and your body will thrive. Grocery stores reinforce this idea with neatly labeled aisles, influencers promote it through curated meal plans, and public health campaigns distill it into easy slogans. Yet despite these well-meaning efforts, the reality is far more complex. Foods widely considered healthy are not always healthy for everyone, and in some cases, they can even be harmful. Health is deeply individual, context-dependent, and influenced by biology, culture, mental well-being, and access. Treating “healthy food” as a one-size-fits-all solution oversimplifies nutrition and can lead to unintended consequences.

They ended it in the softest weeks of winter, two weeks before rest, before anyone thought to ask where I would land. Disability makes everything louder— the echo of you’re done, the click of doors closing, the question of where now?

A poem I made after a very late, sleepless night. I was trying to portray yearning and desperation clashing between self-respect and care.

Something unprecedented is unfolding on the Temple Mount. We will break that down in a moment, along with a developing report that senior Hamas leaders may be preparing to flee Gaza and a serious warning Israel has just delivered to Turkey.

How I Got Started Since I left the IT industry, I’ve been doing a few things to make money. One of the big ones has been Uber Eats delivery. This piece isn’t (yet another) Uber is so evil piece. It’s also not a gushing endorsement of the company or the job. Instead, it’s about what the experience is like for me, day to day. Specifically isolation. I have been doing Uber Eats delivery for about a year now, since the beginning of 2025 (it’s December 31st, 2025, as I write this). I’ve actually seen it change a lot in that year, which is rapid.

In the ever-expanding world of online gaming, secure and efficient in-game transactions have become essential for gamers looking to enhance their experience.

The Scholar's Surrender: A 60-Minute Journey with Bharadvaja What if three lifetimes of learning taught you that wisdom comes not from knowing everything, but from releasing the need to try? This 60-minute practice weaves the story of Sage Bharadvaja—who studied the sacred Vedas for three entire human lifetimes, only to discover that complete knowledge is impossible. When Indra showed him three mountains of sand representing all that remains unknown after his devoted study, Bharadvaja found liberation in letting go. Through twisting sequences building to Bharadvajasana (Bharadvaja's Twist), we explore the spiral of releasing: What are we grasping for that we could let go? What wisdom waits when we stop trying to master everything? Expect deliberate pacing, hip-opening preparation, and extended holds. All levels welcome with modifications offered throughout. Peak pose: Bharadvajasana. Theme: Releasing impossible striving, embracing what's real.

Yearning distilled would feel like the purest withdrawal from all that may soothe, yet we still yearn for want

I wasn't expecting much to happen today. After last night, I figured that we would all take some time to settle down for a moment. I would have never guessed that I would finally see some closure after all these years of my dad's lies.

This year has been, maybe, the worst year of my life. Keep in mind, that’s a life that has involved bouts of homelessness, violence, extreme poverty, loss in ways I can’t really measure, but this year, fuck this year.

This story crosses into territory a couple of my publications cover, but since I have been neglecting Dollar Survival it is going to live here. The World in Turmoil Right now we are in trouble as a species. We are doing some things that are long-term unsustainable and have a strong probability of creating some pretty extreme climate feedback loops. Those loops will create conditions that are chaotic. Chaotic is bad for us. Our environment being in chaos makes it hard to prepare, hard to maintain infrastructure, hard to survive.

I have been in a number of relationships over the years, and I have fucked them up in some spectacular ways. One of the ways is fighting. There are two fights I haven’t let go of, that hit my brain at weird moments. I was wrong in both cases, but I feel guilt about one of them, and none about the other one.

SPOILERS. A Mystery book that revolves around two girls going back to a childhood camp, and back to a secret they both promise to keep. This is my ramble on the book. I haven't read it in a while, but I have written down my thoughts. Please don't take this as criticism or anything. Just a short ramble.

This is harder to write than the bit about The Mess — for a few reasons. The first one is simply that she is still alive; she might read this (probably not, but who knows), or someone who knows her might read this, and I don’t want to cause her any problems. That means this won’t have my usual level of candour.

A long time ago I lived in a place where it was hot and humid all the time. The medical was a bit behind the western world as well. In fact, most of the country was still operating with stone-age technology. Most of the country was jungle, or at least most of the land areas… although since it was a series of small to medium islands most of the country was actually water.

I was fifteen the first time I spent the night on the street. I was eighteen the last night I spent on the street. I’m about to turn forty-six as I write this (note: I'm 52 now, it's still true though). There are elements of my personality that are still stuck on the street.

Fighting is a really bad idea. If you fight, you will get hurt, you will get injured, you will hurt other people, and your psyche will bear the scars of that hurt. I love to fight, and I’ve done it much of my life.

I felt a sense of madness, freedom bubbling over, through my veins. I was running down the street with my best friend. We were young, so young and stupid. The night air was warm, cloudless. No stars, the city lights made stars impossible. A city of millions isn’t the place for astronomers. The madness we felt was because, at fifteen, we were on our own. Things had come to a head with my mother, and I was no longer living with her. My friend Michael (not his real name) was in the same situation. Although for me, and I think for him as well, it was something deeper. I was still profoundly wounded by my return to Canada, leaving my beloved jungle behind and trying to make sense of a place where the world was devoted to cars and giant buildings. Toronto was not the best place for my return.