The last two weeks, I’ve been living inside contrast.
And contrast, when allowed to ripen, becomes clarity.
In Dallas, I stood before a room of people aligned with sovereignty—not just ideologically, but practically. People who understand the value of scarce time, who recognize that nobody is coming to save them, and who have chosen to act.
Although most of the room defends their freedom, not everyone has connected Bitcoin to purposeful behavior.
They speak of liberty, but haven’t yet linked sovereignty to the protocols they rely on. Bitcoin reflects how we understand time, scarcity, property, and the value of our choices.
I gave a talk titled The Value of Scarce Time, where I laid out three principles that shape all meaningful change:
Time preference, non-violence and property rights, and human action.
Human Action – All purposeful behavior begins when someone chooses to transform a current state into a more preferable one. Action starts with need. And because means are scarce, choice becomes inevitable.
This leads to opportunity cost: every action carries the weight of what we didn’t choose. Every decision reveals subjective value. Action becomes meaningful because it shows what matters to us.
These principles shape how I live, how I make art, how I save, how I relate.
I orient from the inside out, not outside in.
I act—not to control outcomes, but because I trust that right action shapes the path ahead.
We don’t act randomly.
We act because something in us recognizes a gap between what is, and what ought to be.
That gap is the origin of purpose. And purpose implies direction—an end.
To act is to reveal what I consider valuable. Not in theory—in action.
Every decision eliminates other possibilities. That’s cost.
And the value of what I didn’t choose—that’s the price I paid to act.
There is no objective unit to measure this.
Value is not out there. It’s not in the chart or the market price.
It’s in me.
Subjective. Unmeasurable. Real.
This is the domain of Aries. The one who initiates.
The one who moves not because they were told to, but because they felt the impulse to begin.
To act is to affirm: I exist, I choose, I move.
That’s not recklessness—it’s sovereignty.
And yes, action takes time. The moment I act, I step into uncertainty.
I move toward what I can’t fully predict—but still choose.
That’s the fire of Aries.
The spark that doesn’t wait for consensus.
It burns, it risks, it initiates—because doing nothing is a deeper cost.
In evolutionary astrology, Aries initiates the journey—not to complete it, but to begin.
Mars, as its ruler, represents subjective desire—the inner push to move toward something.
Pluto, the higher octave, reveals why that desire exists in the first place: the Soul’s evolutionary intent.
In praxeology, action begins with a perceived need.
We choose, because we want to change our condition—to move from one state to a more preferable one.
That choice reveals our values, but also exposes our limits. We can’t choose everything.
This is the logic of scarcity.
This is the logic of soul evolution.
Both systems agree:
There is no universal metric for value.
Meaning is not granted from outside.
Action is always individual.
And choice—real choice—requires awareness.
Mars doesn’t wait for approval. It acts.
Pluto doesn’t accept appearances. It transforms.
And Aries doesn't ask permission. It burns through inertia.
When I choose from my core—when I act on my own authority—I am no longer just surviving.
I am evolving.
From Dallas to Seattle
Then I was in Seattle, at w.o.k.e. central, installing a commissioned work at a University of Washington that holds a very different worldview. One more aligned with collectivism, DEI ideology, identity narratives, and the so called “common good” as a guiding principle.
I expected friction.
What I didn’t expect was openness.
Real conversations, even with people whose perspectives are radically different from mine. And at the core of those dialogues, one question keeps returning:
“Why don’t you center empathy in your decision-making?”
Here’s my answer:
I do. But I begin with responsibility.
Because if I’m not rooted in my own accountability, then any empathy I offer becomes performative—a way to be liked, not a way to be real.
What People Get Wrong About Individualism
There’s a myth that those who act from individual agency are self-absorbed, disconnected, careless toward the collective.
That’s not my reality.
I care about the collective.
But I don’t collapse into it to prove it.
I don’t sacrifice my discernment to be accepted.
I don’t mute my voice for ideological comfort.
What I’m learning is that being in relationship—to people, places, systems—requires me to show up as a full self, not a diluted one.
This past week’s Libra full moon revealed that:
There is no such thing as a “self-made” person.
Every act of freedom still happens in relation to others.
Every decision reverberates.
Every “I” is in constant dance with a “you.”
We are in Aries season. The Sun is moving through the sign of the individual—the “I am.” But Chiron is there too, reminding us that individuation comes with wounds. With risk. With the fear of standing alone.
The full moon in Libra, just behind us, mirrored that light:
Yes, you must decide.
But you cannot decide outside of relationship.
That’s the axis of this moment.
To be sovereign is not to be separate.
It’s to be responsible within connection.
Words hold memory-They show us what we’ve forgotten
To hold this complexity, I return to language. Not slogans. Origins.
Empathy (Greek em- “in” + pathos “feeling”): Feeling into another. Vital. But not a compass for all decisions.
Responsibility (Latin respondere, “to answer”): The ability to respond. Not guilt. Not blame. A form of dignity.
Accountability (from reckoning): A social measure. It’s how we are seen by others. A mirror, not a prison.
Courage (cor, “heart”): To act from the center. To show up even if misunderstood.
Collectivism (collectivus, “gathered together”): Originally neutral. But in practice, often becomes homogenizing.
Subjectivity (subjectus, “brought under consideration”): Not selfishness, but the root of all value perception.
Behavior Reveals the Truth
What’s become clear to me in both Dallas and Seattle is this:
Behavior matters more than belief.
I see people preaching empathy and canceling difference.
Others preaching sovereignty while outsourcing their discernment. Many declaring values—yet living in contradiction.
Influencers show off, but they don’t show up.
There is a collapse of coherence—between what people say and what they actually do.
And that’s the line I draw:
Coherence.
Responsibility.
Embodied integrity.
Showing up doesn’t mean broadcasting your truth.
It means holding it gently, clearly, and consistently—especially when you’re in a room that challenges it.
It means saying:
I’m here. I’m listening. And I’m not collapsing.
It means refusing to abandon yourself for the comfort of others.
And refusing to abandon others just to protect yourself.
Lunation & the Arc of Integration
The Sun will cross into Taurus in a few days, squaring Mars as it re-enters Leo after months of retrograde motion. The moon will meet Pluto in Aquarius and start the T-square in fixed signs, Mars wants attention after all these months of focusing on emotional needs. It is time to perform. As the Sun wants to be grounded while Pluto asks for more shedding—it’s a callback.
-A visceral reminder of what we were trying to initiate creatively at the end of last year.
But now we carry the emotional digestion of that delay. Now we know what it takes.
We’re also witnessing Jupiter approaching the degree where it went retrograde, forming an opposition with the Moon in Sagittarius on the 17th, and a tightening T-square with the Pisces cluster: Saturn, Venus, Ceres, and the North Node. These aspects are pressure points. They ask:
What have you been slowly structuring to then expand?
What did you cautiously plan to explore by summer 2025?
What truths did you uncover while reflecting and acting via different perspectives?
What have you actually embodied by learning? And how is that learning shaping the strategy for your next move—between now and June, as you leave the drawing board and start reshaping your life?
It may feel like a new beginning; it’s the emergence of direction after reflection.
Instead of waiting for the collective to tell me how to respond, I’ve been evaluating how I relate to myself: how I hold my needs, my vision, my time, what I value—and how I move when I stop waiting for cues.
Mars will oppose Pluto, the Sun, and my natal Jupiter—at the New Moon, right on my birthday. It’s going to be a hell of a solar return. I already feel the friction.
The confrontation. The authority. The clarity. The pressure.
Even now in Seattle, while installing my work on campus, I navigated between assertion and surrender. Pushing just enough to get things done. Yielding just enough to stay in dialogue.
We’re all living in that nuance:
Not collapsing to be accepted.
Not dominating to be heard.
But standing—grounded, present.
The Book Finds Its Reader
This week, Kyle visited me at the university. He recorded a podcast episode with me for We Are Satoshi. He bought The Nature of My Reality in El Salvador and told me it became a mirror—a guide to reconnect with his needs. He describes himself as a logical person, but he resonated with the abstraction. It moved him.
He brought a copy of my book—thick with Post-its. Layers of notes, symbols, and questions tucked between the pages. A coded dialogue I hadn’t expected. It felt like the book had become a terrain he had walked through, leaving markers of where something shifted.
We talked for hours. It was a pleasure.
What struck me most was the timing. While the book had been out for some time, the commission work had just reached its physical completion. Kyle arrived as both timelines overlapped in real space—something I couldn’t have orchestrated, but that landed with unmistakable weight. He witnessed that convergence. And I don’t take it lightly.
Moments like this remind me:
The book is alive.
It lands where it’s meant to.
And I wish more people would tell me what moved them.
What part helped them listen to themselves again.
I’ve started asking—when people come to my talks, look at my artwork or mention the book—what was it that resonated?
The answers have been incredible.
So if you’ve read the book, have a chance to encounter my artwork or attend a talk or if you’re here reading this:
What is it about what I do that connects with you?
I’d love to know.
Privately is fine—quiet is powerful.
I am not looking for approval. It’s about resonance. It’s about knowing that the work carries. That it finds the right person, at the right time. I will then have an inner dialogue with your inner dialogue!
Refining Response: A Post-Retrograde Practice
This is a reflection I’m having today (April 9th). It’s really a synthesis of the last 40 days—through Mercury, Venus, and even the tail end of Mars retrograde. I’ve been working with feedback, or rather, the lack of it. Not reacting when I don’t hear back. Not jumping to fill in the silence. And that silence became a space.
I built a bit of a skin during this time.
Now, instead of excusing other people’s behavior, I ask: Do I need to hold them accountable?
If yes, I do.
If not, I hold myself accountable for expecting something they were never going to give.
I see it clearly.
If someone’s principles and behavior are misaligned with mine—that’s information. That’s clarity. It means I probably don’t need to be around that environment. And if I do have to—because of commitment—I’ll call it out. With integrity. Without hesitation.
It’s a harmony. A fine adjustment.
Between being assertive and letting go. Between standing firm and softening.
Between speaking and surrendering.
That’s what Neptune in Aries feels like to me right now:
Call out what is not okay.
Surrender to what is.
Refine the edge between them.
It’s subtle.
It’s powerful.
It’s the new practice.
Coda: The People Made It Real
One of the main highlights of this trip was the people.
Just the people.
Engaging, relating, noting differences.
I finally met @Mari Budlong—and her beautiful four children—in person. We’ve been working together for almost three years. She edited and co-produced the book I wrote, THE NATURE OF MY REALITY. Seeing her in real life was deeply meaningful. We gave each other the biggest hug. Chelsea drove from the middle of nowhere to meet me and we had a great afternoon and delish dinner. I am so psyched I got so many visitors O. and T. came too- who wish to remain anon…
I also met with Kyle twice, who came back to do some B-rolls for the podcast we recorded earlier.
Then there were the conversations with Carlos, Jonathan, and Trevis—the three wonderful souls who lent their six hands to install the work.
And Mike, the project manager from the state agency, and Pedro, a very logical engineer from the university—both of whom became part of a spontaneous dialogue circle throughout the week.
We laughed.
We disagreed.
We held space.
They all knew where I stand with “Woke Central” and still invited my perspective in. A couple of moments could’ve turned heated—but they didn’t. We listened. We learned. I never once felt canceled, dismissed, or disrespected.
These are the kinds of conversations I live for.
Not black or white. Not one color or another.
But full-spectrum presence. That’s where the enrichment lives.
I hope I planted a seed with these people. And if they received something, I hope it grows. But it’s not upon me. It’s upon them.
This moment we’re entering is not about forward motion—
It’s about understanding how to move.
The reflection:
To yield and surrender—not before you are assertive and direct in having your needs met.
A harmony between discernment and neglect.
Integration requires action.
It comes after contemplation.
It’s the full synthesis—alive, in the moment.
Sometimes we don’t even have the space to contemplate.
Sometimes we have to act.
And instead, we react.
This is where I’m becoming more of a practitioner. A warrior.
I’m learning when to wait, when not. How to respond.
How much time I need—especially with my emotional wave.
And these last twelve days have been intense.
Everything could have been worse, but it wasn’t.
And much of that came from my attitude.
The time I gave myself. The care I took. The attention to detail. The patience.
Still—many elements of the commission were not delivered as designed.
My engagement with the fabricators was clear. I gave them the vision, the directives, the files. My role was to ensure they executed what was already defined.
I wasn’t projecting expectations.
I was holding a standard.
My work is known for its bright, colorful, abstract compositions. When I say they changed the design, I mean: they chose the wrong colors, altered the opacity, and introduced a contrast that doesn’t belong in my work. It came back darker. Heavier. Muddied. The vibrancy was lost.
I create contrast with my palette—not through distortion.
They introduced their own interpretation. And that was never the agreement.
I don’t want the fabricator inventing it.
All they had to do was write an email, make a phone call:
“This could turn out very dark—what would you like to do?”
But they didn’t. They bypassed the entire process.
The fabricators made decisions about color and printing that altered the piece without my approval.
When you’re hired to fabricate, you follow the artist’s design. You don’t reinterpret it.
And that’s what happened. They made decisions beforehand. They took ownership of something that wasn’t theirs.
The question is: how do I cope with that?
For me, the most important thing is freedom.
And freedom, the way I define it, is the ability to have more than one option.
This week, I was left without options.
I was blindsided.
Not because I didn’t have them—but because they were taken through unilateral decisions that affected the integrity of the work.
And now—I’m integrating.
I don’t have an answer yet.
Integrating the recent full moon in Libra, with the Sun and Chiron on my natal Mars in the third house, means confronting these vulnerabilities with courage—and learning how to relate through a different frequency of assertiveness and presence.
The frustration comes from knowing this was preventable.
My directive was clear.
My communication was constant.
And still—I was left with no way to respond.
So now I’m sitting with the question:
How much of this do I surrender to?
And how much do I need to change the way I direct people?
Because I was clear.
I did communicate.
And yet—this is where I am.
And you—
What have you been integrating these last forty days?
Where does your courage rise from now?
Have you stood at that edge—
between yielding and fire—
and asked yourself:
what is worth protecting,
and what must be released?
Hours later before the full moon in Libra…
I sat in meditation, asking for clarity.
How do I move forward with this frustration—logistically, emotionally, relationally?
The first image I received was direct:
Lay everything out.
Take a picture of each piece. Make notes.
Approach it one by one.
Then—my grandmother appeared.
Her Sun falls in my 8th house. Libra.
Her Moon, in Pisces—exactly on my Chiron.
She told me:
“Take a few steps back.
Your problem is real, but it’s not the biggest.
Other people suffer more.
That doesn’t mean you bypass your own pain.
But see it from another angle.”
She said:
“Become logical. Lay it out.
You’ve already expressed your frustration. That’s fine.
You can’t unwind the clock.
But you can learn from this one.”
She was wise.
I used to call her when I needed to find something out.
She was a Libra with a memory like a vault.
A historian. A storyteller. A witness.
So I called her again—and she showed up.
Not to soothe me.
But to remind me:
This is not about weakness.
This is about perspective.
It’s about staying precise—without losing heart.
We are all walking that edge right now—between the fire of Aries and the mirror of Libra.
Between sovereignty and surrender.
Between what must be protected, and what is ready to be released.
Share this post