๐“œ๐”‚ ๐“œ๐“ธ๐“ถ๐“ฎ๐“ท๐“ฝ ๐“ž๐“ฏ ๐“–๐“ป๐“ช๐“ฝ๐“ฒ๐“ฝ๐“พ๐“ญ๐“ฎ - Wednesday 23 July 2025

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I have been slowly moving from a mindset of just getting by to truly believing in abundance.

Though I did some serious rewiring already, I am starting to see how stuck I have been in that scarcity mindset.

Limiting myself for decades....

Because planning a future feels like a luxury when survival is the focus.

These posts are:

๐’ฏ๐‘œ ๐“Š๐“ƒ๐’น๐‘œ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐’น๐’ถ๐“‚๐’ถ๐‘”๐‘’ ๐ผ ๐’น๐’พ๐’น ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐“‚๐“Ž๐“ˆ๐‘’๐“๐’ป ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“‚๐“Ž ๐’ท๐‘’๐“๐’พ๐‘’๐’ป ๐’พ๐“ƒ ๐’ถ๐’ท๐“Š๐“ƒ๐’น๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’ธ๐‘’.
๐’ฏ๐‘œ ๐’ท๐‘’ ๐‘”๐“‡๐’ถ๐“‰๐‘’๐’ป๐“Š๐“ ๐’ป๐‘œ๐“‡ ๐“Œ๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐ผ ๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‹๐‘’.
๐’ฏ๐‘œ ๐“Š๐“ƒ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐‘”๐“๐‘’ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐“‡๐‘’๐“ˆ๐“‰ ๐‘œ๐’ป ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐“Œ๐’พ๐“‡๐‘’๐“ˆ ๐’พ๐“ƒ ๐“‚๐“Ž ๐“ˆ๐’ธ๐’ถ๐“‡๐’ธ๐’พ๐“‰๐“Ž ๐“‚๐’พ๐“ƒ๐’น๐“ˆ๐‘’๐“‰.
๐’ฏ๐‘œ ๐“‡๐‘’๐‘œ๐“…๐‘’๐“ƒ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐’น๐‘œ๐‘œ๐“‡๐“ˆ ๐‘œ๐’ป ๐“…๐‘’๐“‡๐’ธ๐‘’๐“…๐“‰๐’พ๐‘œ๐“ƒ, ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“‡๐‘’๐“‚๐‘’๐“‚๐’ท๐‘’๐“‡ ๐“Œ๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐ผ ๐“€๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“Œ ๐’ท๐‘’๐’ป๐‘œ๐“‡๐‘’.

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I have been starring at least the last twenty minutes at this blank page, and itยดs not because I have nothing to be grateful for.

Rather, the opposite; there is a lot to be thankful for. But my head just does not want to put in the effort.

Yes, itยดs a bit warm today, but this July has been behaving rather good for a monster of a month.

There is just a lot.
A lot of new.

New plans, new ideas, new tasks, new situations, there is a lot of new.
Which makes sense. It is time to leave my comfort zone.
These past 8 years have been great; they have given me so much.

The rest and peace were so needed, so well deserved. The stability, the honesty, to see that there are fair people in this world and to trust them.

To not expose myself to those whom I doubt, those who very possibly will deceive me, was wonderful.
My beautiful bubble, that life now is pushing me out of. As if I had outgrown it, as if there is no more room for me there.

That is a little scary, and at the same time, this is how life flows.
We live, we learn, we assimilate, we move on.

Or we wait a little, look over the edge of life, step back, wait some more, and then life gives us a push that makes us move on.

Life is an unstoppable force, and if you do not flow with it, it will make you. Resistance is futile.

Flowing against the current is a waste of time, so I accept that this was it, that I need to open up and that opening up will bring more of everything, abundance in every shape and form.

Now I have to learn to be fully thankful for that. It will take me a bit of time, but the fact that I am still here and ready to move on....itยดs wicked, wickedly good.

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Thank you for making it this far....for those who know me...or better, think they know me, this might have been a WTF moment.

For me, this is a WTF journey, but I finally know my destiny: Avalon.

Around 1200 AD, Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote that King Arthur was taken on a boat to Avalon by โ€œnine sisters,โ€ the eldest being Morgan le Fay.

Avalon, where the mists of the worlds are thin and time no longer reigns.

โ€œThe king was carried to the isle of Avalon to be healed of his wounds.โ€

According to legend, he did not return from Avalon, but he is prophesied to do so: Arthur is the "once and future king."

Ever since, poets and dreamers have chased that myth. I am a poet, a dreamer, a mystic, and a magician.

I will not chase the myth, I will recreate it just as she meant it to be.

Because over all these centuries, Avalon has grown, the word itself holds more power than the eyes of time can see.

The ancient Celtic legend, a sacred island of healing and immortality, shrouded in fog and guarded by priestesses.

In a quiet English village in 1897, a young writer named T.E. Wilburn sat beneath an old oak and scribbled in his journal:

โ€œAvalon is not merely a place, it is the ache of the soul that remembers something purer than this world can offer.โ€

That line would later appear in his forgotten book Through the Mists, and inspire the chorus of a 1974 folk song by Rowan Shade:

โ€œSail away, sail away / To the isle where kings still breathe / Avalon, oh Avalon / My heart you never leave.โ€

To some, Avalon is paradise. To others, a metaphor for death, it might be both.

Even today, Avalon appears as a vivid symbol of hope after ruin, of wholeness beyond despair.

Avalon is more than a story.

Avalon is a compass for lost souls, pointing somewhere beyond the chaos of the world, to recovery, to rebirth, and reset.

And like Arthur, those willing will all encounter the boat to take them there.



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