I’m sitting here with a cup of cacao, still feeling the rhythm of this morning’s capoeira session pulsing through me, and I can’t shake the overlap between the tight white markings on the floor and today’s oracle casting—Preponderance of the Small and The Wanderer. Success through smallness, perseverance in constraint. It’s like the universe is nudging me to pay attention. During training, Mestre Bico Duro had us work within a confined space, pushing us to adapt, to execute tight movements even when cornered. It’s about versatility, sure Stuart’s instructions echoed in my head as I reflected on the session—small, deliberate actions leading to mastery.
Capoeira feels like a moving meditation to me, an extension of my daily sitting and walking practices. It’s tuning into the body, the environment, the social dance of interaction, all while staying present and balanced. I think of it as being a blade of grass—rooted deep, yet swaying with the wind, no resistance. That’s what smallness feels like: not limitation, but precision. And as I walked back after training, mulling this over, the first person to greet me with Lunar New Year wishes was a monk clearing trash. A small moment, but it landed with weight, aligning with the day’s reading.
Small Miracles, Big Impacts
This theme of smallness weaving into something profound keeps showing up in my family’s history too. Recently, at my late aunt’s place, my uncle shared a story about my birth. My mom, pregnant with me, was in distress—she kept having her menstruation throughout the pregnancy. Doctors were sure my brother would be her last child. She sought solace in temple after temple until a medium assured her I’d be safe, protected by Kanzeon. Against all odds, I was born—a quiet miracle. I see the same unlikely grace in my daughter’s birth. My ex-partner had a cyst in her womb, complicating things. Her mother, who only had her, feared she’d never bear a child. But after successful surgery, my daughter arrived—another small, improbable gift.Wandering with Synchronicity
My uncle pointed out another thread of small, pivotal moments—how I stumbled upon the Heart Sutra in 2008, at the end of an unplanned journey along the Silk Road to London. What started as a casual trip to China with a friend unearthed a deep spiritual restlessness. In Cappadocia, Turkey, a Sufi mystic gifted me the sutra—a fleeting encounter that shifted something in me. Years later, I began reciting it daily, eventually transitioning to offering cacao, the medicine of the heart. My cousin laughs, saying I’ve swapped e-commerce for overlanding, visiting apothecaries, often finding a Buddha statue in the spaces where I offer cacao. Small steps, small spaces, building into a larger path.These small, unexpected occurrences keep breaking through every impasse. Last year, after mentally checking out of the Agroverse Cacao project due to tariff disruptions, an invitation to Vivi’s farm, Jesus Do Deus, arrived just when I needed it. This year, as I gear up to expand the cacao distribution network and fret over gasoline costs, my mum—unprompted—offers a $10,000 SGD injection. It’s not a massive sum in absolute terms, but it’s exactly what I need to move cacao from Brazil to San Francisco for this phase of overlanding. My cousin calls it a pilgrimage. My uncle calls it fate. I’m just sitting with the wonder of it all.
A Decade of Transformation
Reflecting on my Bazi chart, I’ve noticed this ten-year cycle from 2019 to 2029—Owl Seal in the sky with Yang Water, Direct Seal on Earth with the Rat. It’s marked a restless, strange transition. I’ve been moving nonstop, place to place, propelled by unexpected interventions. It’s felt like being forced to face the dark night of the soul—something I’d avoided for years. Now, seven years in, I sense a shift. The movement, once erratic, is becoming calibrated, centering on projects like Agroverse Cacao that align with my love of roaming and my values of harmony with nature.Reflections for the day: Smallness isn’t a barrier—it’s a doorway. The oracle’s nudge about Preponderance of the Small and The Wanderer feels like permission to trust the tight spaces, the winding roads. Whether it’s the capoeira circle, a family miracle, or a timely financial boost, it’s the small steps that carve the path.
So, where are you finding strength in the small? Are you wandering through tight spaces, or rooted and swaying with the wind? I’d love to hear how these small moments are shaping your journey.
- Spirituality
- Personal Growth
- Travel