Whose Light Am I Following? Finding My Sacred Rhythm
Dear Reader,
I've been contemplating something rather wonderful lately. What if the life I'm dreaming of isn't waiting for me somewhere in the future? What if I'm already living much of it, and the real invitation is to become more conscious of how I'm participating in its creation?
That question found its way into my newest Sacred Wheel experiment. I've been exploring how to bring my spiritual practices, creative calling, practical responsibilities, and the unpredictable delights of everyday life into a more harmonious rhythm. Not a rigid schedule or another elaborate system for getting more done, mind you. I've had quite enough of those. I'm looking for a way to move through life with intention while leaving plenty of room for Great Spirit to surprise me.
I created something I'm calling my Sacred Rhythm Compass, a combination of my Sacred Wheel practice, calendar, and the cosmic influences I enjoy contemplating. I wanted a way to acknowledge the realities of linear time without losing the magic of soul time. A way to give my energy to what matters without giving myself away.
The question I brought to the Wheel was simple enough: How do I move through life in sacred rhythm, honoring my body, tending what is mine, and giving my energy to what is ready to grow?
My cards were Intent in the South, Love in the West, Evolution in the North, and Care in the East. I also drew a fifth card, Time, for the center. That extra card turned out to be quite significant.
In the morning before beginning, I drew Illumination, accompanied by Surrender and Impermanence. As I contemplated the uncertainty that occasionally casts shadows over my life, an image emerged of a bright future. I saw myself sharing my experiences and gifts with people in meaningful ways, traveling from place to place, gathering adventures and perspectives, and living fully as the Traveling Art Mystic.
I've held that vision for some time, yet something felt different. I wasn't simply wishing for a future version of myself. I was beginning to recognize that I am genuinely becoming her.
That realization would follow me around the entire Wheel.
I began in the South, where Intent invited me to examine the physical foundations supporting the life I'm creating.
My card spoke of legacy, of rewriting outgrown stories, and of singing a new song line from the heart.
Legacy. That's a big word, isn't it? It can conjure images of monuments, accomplishments, and things we leave behind. Yet I found myself considering a much more immediate understanding. My legacy is being created through the way I live right now. Every choice contributes something to the life I am weaving, whether it seems monumental or wonderfully ordinary.
I identified four essential foundations: a healthy body, a safe and supportive environment, financial security, and a network of people who love and encourage me in healthy, sustainable ways.
My body came first. It's the sacred temple through which I experience this physical existence, express my creativity, and participate in the world. Nourishment, movement, rest, and the everyday choices that support my vitality aren't distractions from my calling. They're how I make it possible to embody that calling.
I considered my home next. I want beauty, comfort, safety, efficiency, and peace. I want an environment where I can create, connect, work, play, and simply enjoy being alive. What delighted me was recognizing how much of that environment I've already cultivated. There are still things I want to improve, of course, but I am no longer merely imagining a supportive home. I am living in one.
Financial security brought an interesting revelation. I realized that before I could truly cultivate it, I needed to understand what it meant to me.
I want money to function something like my circulatory system. I nourish my body so my blood has what it needs to sustain me, yet I don't consciously pump my heart all day. I want financial systems that operate with similar reliability. I can understand my resources, establish responsible practices, generate income, and make thoughtful decisions without continually allowing money to occupy the center of my attention.
That doesn't mean ignoring reality and expecting Great Spirit to pay the electric bill. It means doing my part and allowing the systems I've established to do theirs.
I rather liked that distinction.
The fourth foundation was my community. I want relationships where we encourage one another, exchange honest feedback, celebrate our differences, and offer support without diminishing ourselves. I want to give generously from wholeness and receive graciously without feeling obligated to repay every kindness.
Together, these foundations form something beautiful. My body supports my experience, my environment supports my well-being, my resources support my freedom, and my community supports my growth.
The South helped me see that tending these things isn't merely maintenance. It's an expression of Intent. It's how I prepare fertile ground for the life I want to grow.
As I moved into the West, Love invited me to examine the stories I tell myself when life feels uncertain.
Oh, those stories. You know the stories of which I speak, I’m sure.
The ones about money, worthiness, success, what other people might think, whether anyone will show up, whether my work will be received, and all the fascinating disasters my imagination can manufacture from a simple what-if.
My card carried a particularly meaningful warning: don't allow frightening stories to become prophecies.
I began noticing how quickly an old scarcity story can arise, even while I'm surrounded by evidence of abundance. That little voice insists there isn't enough, that something must be urgently acquired or protected, that security is always somewhere just beyond my reach.
Instead of arguing with it or pretending it doesn't exist, I looked around.
I have a beautiful home. I have food, warmth, comfort, and people who care about me. I have creativity, opportunities, meaningful work, and a growing appreciation for the resources already available in my life.
Scarcity, schmarcity!
That doesn't mean there aren't financial responsibilities to address. There certainly are. It means I can meet them from a place of awareness rather than fear.
I also explored my complicated relationship with money itself. I don't believe a person's worth can be measured in dollars, and I've never been particularly comfortable with the idea that accumulating wealth should be the ultimate measure of success.
Yet I live in a world where money facilitates exchange. I can participate in that system with integrity without allowing it to determine my values. I can appreciate beautiful things without needing to own every one of them. I can earn and receive money through my creative and wellness work without making profit the purpose of that work.
Money can be a tool rather than a master.
Grief appeared as I entered this part of the Wheel, and I recognized another dimension of the work. Releasing an old story can mean saying goodbye to a familiar version of ourselves. Even a limiting belief can feel strangely comfortable when we've carried it for years.
Perhaps part of growing is allowing ourselves to grieve what no longer fits, without inviting it back simply because it's familiar. Allowing it to die, and letting it rest in peace.
I don't have to become someone entirely different to feel secure or worthy. I can recognize the abundance already present, respond responsibly to what needs attention, and let the fearful stories lose their authority.
The West was teaching me to choose the story from love. Not fantasy, not denial, but love grounded in what is actually true.
When I arrived in the North, Evolution asked a question that initially seemed almost too broad to answer.
Who am I becoming through the way I live?
I looked at my calendar.
There were gatherings, creative projects, art shows, community commitments, business responsibilities, appointments, time with friends and loved ones, and all the ordinary things involved in maintaining a life. I began writing about what was scheduled, what needed tending, and how I wanted to show up.
Somewhere in the middle of that exploration, I had a glorious little revelation.
Almost everything on my calendar had originated in a moment of inspiration, connection, or purposeful decision.
I had agreed to meet someone because the connection mattered. I had arranged an event because I wanted to share something meaningful. I had scheduled creative work because it belonged to the life I was building.
Once I made those choices, I placed them on my calendar and released them.
The calendar remembered for me.
I didn't have to keep carrying every commitment around in my head. I could trust that when the time arrived, the next step would be waiting there.
I don’t have to pump my own heart, Spirit does that for me.
Suddenly I saw my calendar differently. It wasn't merely a list of obligations. It was becoming a map of the steps Great Spirit had illuminated along my path.
How cosmically groovy is that?!
I remembered earlier chapters of my life when my schedule was so rigid that nearly every moment had a designated purpose. There was a time when I practically scheduled bathroom breaks. Those systems served me when I needed them, but they left precious little room for spontaneity, inspiration, or the unexpected.
My life looks different now.
I'm increasingly discerning about what I agree to and what deserves a place on my calendar. I can appreciate a canceled appointment as an unexpected opening instead of a disruption. I can make commitments with intention and then return to the present, trusting that I don't need to mentally rehearse every future obligation when it comes from the heart.
Masculine encouraged purposeful action without judgment, while Ecstasy and Enthusiasm reminded me that creativity can be joyful and exhilarating. Flow appeared with Transformation, echoing lessons from my recent Coloring Journey and reinforcing the value of moving through life from my instinctual, creative nature.
I was also seeing practical evidence of this evolution. I was connecting with my artistic community, developing products, sharing my work, making progress with financial organization, and creating opportunities for Art Mystic Wellness to grow.
None of these things happened because I managed to control every moment. They happened through a combination of intention, inspired action, connection, and a willingness to follow through.
I showed up and did my best.
Of course, not every experience was harmonious. I encountered situations that challenged my integrity and sense of belonging. Some associations that once felt aligned no longer felt quite right, and I found myself examining why.
I realized that discernment isn't only about recognizing which opportunities to accept. Sometimes it means acknowledging that a relationship, organization, or commitment no longer represents who I am becoming.
I can appreciate what something once offered without requiring it to remain part of my future.
This, too, is Evolution.
The North helped me recognize that my calling isn't waiting for me somewhere beyond the practical realities of everyday life. It is becoming visible through the choices I make, the work I undertake, and the ways I honor my energy.
I am not preparing indefinitely to become the Traveling Art Mystic.
I am living as her.
By the time I reached the East, I was feeling rather delighted with the journey.
Humor appeared in both my Power Deck and Buddha cards, which struck me as a perfectly timed reminder not to take myself quite so seriously.
Apparently, Great Spirit appreciates a good laugh too.
The East's Care card asked what I am weaving with my words and choices.
I've long imagined life as one of those enormous old tapestries that once adorned castle walls, the kind filled with scenes that tell individual stories while contributing to one magnificent larger narrative.
In my imagination, every person contributes their own unique threads. Some scenes are woven alone, while others emerge where our threads intersect. Each experience adds color, texture, movement, and meaning.
When we step back, we can see the larger story taking shape.
As I considered my own part in the great tapestry, I realized how carefully I've been spinning and weaving my threads. My words and choices have become increasingly intentional, heart-led, and aligned with my values.
I also noticed how much more discerning I've become about whose threads I allow to intertwine with mine.
I can smile at a stranger, enjoy a conversation, and offer kindness without inviting everyone into the intimate weaving of my life. I want to create shared experiences with people who are also intentional about the threads they bring.
There are areas of my tapestry where the weaving is tangled or frayed. Some relationships and experiences brought threads that didn't complement my own. I can see those places when I look back.
They are still part of the story.
Yet they don't have to determine what I weave next.
I can continue creating with stronger, smoother, more vibrant threads. I can seek relationships where our contributions enhance one another, where connection is mutual, and where giving and receiving create something beautiful for everyone involved.
Win-win threads make a stunning tapestry.
What fascinated me was how beautifully this image brought the entire Wheel together. Intent asked me to consider the legacy I'm creating. Love invited me to choose the stories I believe and tell. Evolution revealed the person emerging through my lived experience. Care asked me to be mindful of the words, relationships, and choices that shape the tapestry.
Each direction was describing a different aspect of the same creation.
My life.
Then I returned to the center, where Time had been waiting.
This fifth card was the reason I created the Sacred Rhythm Compass in the first place.
I've been learning to distinguish between linear time and soul time.
Linear time is familiar. It holds appointments, responsibilities, deadlines, schedules, and all the practical structures that help us function in the physical world.
Soul time is different. It holds the unexpected conversation that becomes meaningful, the creative impulse that arrives without warning, the moment in nature that takes our breath away, the quiet realization that changes our perspective, and the sudden opening where we discover something we didn't know we needed.
I used to think I needed to choose between structure and freedom.
Now I'm discovering that each can support the other.
A thoughtful calendar can hold my commitments so my mind doesn't have to. Responsible systems can create the security that allows me to be spontaneous. Boundaries can protect the space where creativity flourishes.
Sacred rhythm isn't about eliminating structure.
It's about allowing linear time and soul time to coexist.
Neither needs to dominate the other.
I can honor a deadline and still stop to watch the squirrels. I can tend financial responsibilities and still spend a glorious stretch of time coloring, writing, or exploring an idea that has captured my imagination. I can show up for others without automatically abandoning myself.
The center of my Wheel asked what this journey was actually for.
I realized it hadn't been about getting everything done.
It was about becoming more conscious of where I am, how I show up, what I see, and what I am creating.
I was recognizing the foundations I've built, the stories I'm ready to release, the woman I'm becoming, and the tapestry I'm weaving through my words and choices.
I was learning to trust the illuminated next step while remaining open to the unexpected gifts that appear along the way.
In Closing
There is still plenty for me to learn. Old fears occasionally whisper. Responsibilities can become complicated. I sometimes have to remind myself that another person's path isn't necessarily mine to follow, no matter how beautifully they illuminate it.
Yet I am increasingly able to meet those moments without losing myself in them.
Perhaps that's what living in sacred rhythm feels like.
Not having everything perfectly arranged, but recognizing when I'm centered, noticing when I've wandered, and knowing how to return.
I keep coming back to that image of myself standing before the unknown, surrounded by the many lights of other people's possibilities.
I can appreciate their beauty. I can celebrate their journeys. I can even learn from the paths they illuminate.
I don't have to follow them.
I can wait for the next step on my own path to become clear, then move toward it with courage, curiosity, and trust.
After all, the tapestry of my life is mine to weave. The threads I choose today will become part of the story I live tomorrow.
I want those threads to carry beauty, integrity, compassion, adventure, connection, and love.
I want to live my legacy rather than merely dream about it.
I want to experience the life I've created while continuing to grow into the life I envision.
That feels like a rhythm my soul can keep up with.
I can dig it. Can you dig it?
With love and gratitude,
Jules
Art Mystic Wellness
Journal Prompts
1. What are the essential foundations that support the life I want to create, and how am I already tending them through my daily choices?
2. Where might I be following someone else's light or believing an old fearful story instead of trusting my own inner guidance?
3. If my life were a great tapestry, what kinds of threads am I weaving through my words, relationships, and choices? What would I love to weave next?
Affirmation
I live my intentions through purposeful action, trust my own illuminated path, and weave my life with love, courage, and care.
Simple Embodiment Practice — Following My Own Light
Find a comfortable place to sit or stand. Let your feet rest on the floor or earth and gently relax your shoulders.
Take three slow, easy breaths, allowing yourself to arrive in the present moment.
Imagine yourself standing before an open path. You can see the horizon, but the details of the journey aren't entirely clear.
Around you are many lights, representing possibilities, expectations, responsibilities, and invitations. Notice them without needing to follow any.
Bring a hand to your heart and ask, “What truly belongs to me right now?”
Pause and listen without forcing an answer.
Imagine a gentle light illuminating just one step on your own path.
Ask yourself, “What small, loving action would honor that direction?”
When you're ready, take one comfortable step forward, or simply shift your weight gently as a symbol of your willingness to move.
Whisper, “I trust my path. I honor my rhythm. The next step is enough.”
Carry that intention into whatever comes next.
