I’m hunched over my notebook this morning, a cup of cacao steaming beside me, trying to piece together the threads of the past couple of days. Yesterday’s oracle casting—54, The Marrying Maiden, with its ominous warning of misfortune in undertakings, and 41, Decrease, nudging me toward sincerity and small sacrifices—feels like a quiet alarm bell. Then today’s reading shifts gears: 1, The Creative, promising success through perseverance, and 49, Revolution, assuring me that on my own day, I’ll be believed. It’s a stark contrast, like the universe is saying, “Be cautious, but don’t hold back—transform.” And as I sit with these messages, I can’t help but tie them to this lurking shadow in my psyche—an intergenerational ghost I’m starting to think is symbolized by The Marrying Maiden itself.
Yesterday, I was at a Buddhist Boondocker meditation session with Stacey. Just the two of us, breathing in sync, letting the world fade for a while. Over a shared cup of cacao afterward, she broke down the differences between Burmese and Sri Lankan Buddhist practices. In Sri Lanka, metta—loving-kindness—is front and center, seen as a direct path to enlightenment, even the highest states. In Burma, it’s more subtle; they believe loving-kindness naturally emerges as you clear away inner hindrances. It struck a chord—especially since I’ve wrestled publicly with not fully grasping what love even feels like (check my post on Taming the Enigma of Love). I told Stacey as much: emotions like anger or sadness, I get. But love? It’s like a signal lost in translation between body and mind, muffled by too much control, too much willpower from years of conditioning.
Balance, Ghosts, and the Weight of Accountability
That convo veered into Buddhism versus Taoism, at least how I see them. Buddhism feels like a climb toward nirvana, toward emptiness. Taoism, though—it’s about recognizing every moment as already balanced. I tossed out a physics analogy to Stacey: energy can’t be created or destroyed, only transformed. So the universe, no matter how chaotic, is always in equilibrium. Total energy stays constant. The practice is to see that balance, moment by moment. It’s grounding—until I bump up against my own blocks. If everything’s balanced, why does the idea of “accountability” make my nervous system recoil?Later that evening, by the campfire, I mulled over this. The Agroverse Cacao project is blooming—we’re a whisper away from $10,000 in gross revenue for the year, a 4X leap from last. But scaling to another 4X? It’s gonna mean more structure, less of my nomad freedom, more accountability. And there’s this resistance in me—maybe the “flighty” streak Butterfly called out to the other nomads. Accountability drags up old ghosts: my maternal grandmother, her cane, her strictness. My mother carried that forward, though my father pushed against it. As a teen, I drowned in resentment toward her, shut her out for six months—cold shoulders, walking away—until I saw her one night, sitting alone in the dark, crying. That image still stings.
Here’s the ugly truth: that dynamic didn’t just fade. It shadowed me into relationships, drawing me to partners who were emotionally or physically abusive. I’d endure it—physically stronger, sure, but internally cringing. So “responsibility” and “intimacy” aren’t just words; they’re tied to this cycle of bracing for pain. No wonder I can’t relax enough to feel closeness.
The Marrying Maiden as My Ghost
Staring into the fire, it hit me: this intergenerational ghost—maybe it’s what The Marrying Maiden keeps pointing to in my I-Ching draws. I’ve seen this hexagram pop up before, and looking back at my records, it often surfaces when these old patterns haunt me. The I-Ching’s proving to be a sharp tool for psychoanalysis, peeling back layers I’d rather ignore. This ghost, tied to my grandmother’s harshness, feels like Sadako from The Ring—or that eerie deity I glimpsed late one night in Singapore, guarding a shop window, a gatekeeper to hell dressed in white. This morning, waking up, my nervous system was trembling, like a cornered animal. If I don’t face this shadow, how can I be the father my daughter deserves? I can’t risk becoming that emotionally distant, critical Asian dad, leaving her scarred.Reflecting on Stacey’s words about metta, I’m starting to grasp what the Sri Lankan monks mean—loving-kindness isn’t just fluff; it can carry you to enlightenment. Since starting meditation in 2016, I’ve felt tension release in waves: face, neck, shoulders, behind my heart, and now around my navel. It’s like unblocking chakras, top to bottom. Is the root chakra the final lock? Will releasing that tension free me from this ghost?
Revolution in the Everyday
Tying this to today’s oracle—The Creative and Revolution—I feel a nudge to persist and transform. Yesterday’s Decrease suggests small sacrifices, maybe letting go of old defenses. If The Marrying Maiden is my ghost, then facing her isn’t about slaying—it’s about understanding. Back with Stacey, I said I don’t know love, but seeing the universe’s constant balance, as Taoism teaches, makes every moment feel complete, beautiful, even the messy ones. That realization—it’s the closest I’ve come to love. Maybe the practice is sitting with this ghost, offering her a metaphorical cup of cacao, and saying, “I see you. Let’s change together.”Key observation: The I-Ching isn’t just divination; it’s a mirror. What ghosts are showing up in your readings—or your life? How do you face them, or invite them into your own revolution?
- Spirituality
- Personal Growth
- Family Dynamics