The Corner of 8th & Insanity
Today’s Mantra:
I AM choosing love over fear,
peace over reaction
and compassion over judgment.
I AM focusing my heart and
mind on my desired reality.
6a - Yin Yoga & Breath work
7a - Yoga Nidra & Prayer
730a - 8a Family / Breakfast
830a - 10a - Trade @ Desk
10a - 11a Therapy
1130a - Weight Room - Chest & Shoulders
Warm Up
3.5mi Walk @ 12%
Push Ups 3x25
Ab Wheel 3x20
Barbell Bench (5x8)
Inc Dumbbell Press (4x8)
Overhead Dumbbell Press (5x8)
Dumbbell Lateral Raise (4x10)
Face Pulls (4x12)
Reverse Grip Cable Fly (3x TF)
Dips TF
130p - 3p Trade, Read & Write
3p - 7p - Family Time & Dinner
7p - 8p Walk w/ Tuli ♡
9p - Rest & Recovery
Recent Substack Article: When the Light Fails
Workout playlist via Spotify - Soul On Fire
Full Moon in Aries
The Corner of 8th & Insanity
Tonight, under the unflinching glow of the Super Full Moon, you stand at the edge of yourself. The Universe isn’t asking politely anymore—it’s demanding that you release what’s been rotting in the corners of your soul. The attachments, the illusions, the stories that once kept you safe but now keep you small.
This is no gentle moon—it’s a mirror. A portal of purification. A reminder that death is the prerequisite for power. Every ending you resist only delays the expansion waiting beneath the ashes. Let the light strip you bare. Let it burn through the fears and the false identities you’ve outgrown. What’s leaving now isn’t loss—it’s sacred space being cleared for truth, for strength, for the next evolution of who you are. You are not being punished—you’re being refined. You’re not falling apart—you’re being reforged. The Supermoon calls you forward—stronger, sharper, cleaner.
Breathe it in.
Release.
Trust.
Allow.
From this night forward, walk as the man who has seen his own underworld and didn’t flinch. Your path is aligned with higher law now. Your will is tempered in surrender. What’s meant for you is already moving closer—drawn to the gravity of your becoming.
The Pluto Complex: Power, Death, and the Alchemy of Self
There’s a force that’s been shaping me since the beginning — ancient, unrelenting, uncompromising. It’s not just written in the stars; it’s wired into my psyche. Pluto. The underworld within. The dark gravity that pulls me toward the truth, no matter how hard I fight it.
Most people spend their lives orbiting the surface — chasing comfort, chasing light. But I was never built for surface living. I was born under a Plutonic signature — and that means my soul doesn’t do shallow. It seeks depth. It demands transformation. It hunts truth, even when that truth annihilates everything I thought I was.
Pluto isn’t gentle. It doesn’t knock politely at the door of my life; it kicks it in. It strips me bare of everything false — identity, certainty, control — and leaves me standing in the ashes. It feels cruel, irrational, unfair. But that’s how power teaches. That’s how the masculine is forged. The gods don’t hand out strength. They strip away weakness until only strength remains.
Pluto doesn’t give power; it reveals where I’ve given it away.
It brings me face to face with the illusion of control — that desperate masculine instinct to dominate, to manage, to master life like a trade that can be backtested and optimized. But Pluto doesn’t move in straight lines. It’s cyclical. Chaotic. It drags me into drawdowns that feel like death and then forces me to find stillness in the chaos.
This is not theory — it’s lived initiation. It’s what every trader eventually learns: control is a myth. Markets, like life, are sovereign. They obey no man. The harder I grip, the more I bleed. The more I surrender, the clearer I see. And that’s Pluto’s law — power through surrender, wisdom through death.
The Descent
Every man with a Pluto complex will know the descent. It’s the season when everything collapses — career, relationship, belief system, identity. One day you think you’re ascending, the next you’re being dragged into the underworld by your own unconscious.
It feels like betrayal. Like the universe took everything you built and torched it for sport. But that’s not punishment. That’s purification.
The underworld is the only place you can meet your real self. The one beneath the masks, the performance, the image management. Down there, you can’t fake anything. The light of the surface world doesn’t reach that deep. You either face what’s buried or you rot.
The descent is terrifying because it’s irrational. You can’t logic your way through it. You can’t muscle through it. It’s the death of the old control system — the part of you that thinks discipline and intellect can outsmart fate. Pluto shows you that fate doesn’t negotiate.
As a trader, it mirrors those periods when nothing works. The setups that used to print fail. The charts make no sense. You start questioning your edge, your purpose, your worth. You want to quit or double down in anger. But that chaos isn’t random — it’s initiation. The market is mirroring your psyche, showing you what you refuse to see. The underworld always does.
It strips away the illusion that success equals security. It humbles the ego that thinks it can play God. And in that darkness, something sacred begins — the alchemy of self.
The Alchemy
Alchemy isn’t magic. It’s the science of death. It’s the process of burning away what’s impure until only essence remains.
Pluto governs this process. It doesn’t just destroy; it transforms. But transformation requires participation. The man who clings to what’s dying suffers endlessly. The man who surrenders to death resurrects.
This is the paradox — surrender is not weakness. It’s precision. It’s alignment with nature’s deeper law: all things must die to evolve.
In trading, the same law applies. Every strategy has a shelf life. Every bull run ends. Every edge decays. The fool resists it and goes broke defending what no longer works. The wise man accepts it, adapts, and transcends it.
The alchemist doesn’t fear the fire — he builds the furnace himself.
Pluto’s fire reveals what’s indestructible. When everything external burns — reputation, wealth, comfort — what’s left? That’s your real capital. That’s your soul equity. And once you touch it, you stop trading from ego. You start trading from essence.
Because now you know: wealth isn’t what you accumulate, it’s what survives your collapse.
The Power Game
Pluto is obsession with power. It’s the raw masculine drive to influence, to lead, to create impact. But it tests whether I’m ready for it. It gives me small doses of power and watches what I do with it. Do I manipulate, hoard, or serve?
Every misuse of power creates a backlash. Every act of control disguised as strength gets exposed. Pluto doesn’t tolerate false kings. It dethrones every counterfeit throne I build within myself.
Power without consciousness is corruption. Consciousness without power is impotence. The goal is union — power in service of truth.
As a man, this means integrating the shadow. The parts of me that crave domination, recognition, control. Those aren’t evil — they’re energy. But if I deny them, they leak out unconsciously. If I own them, they become fuel. Pluto teaches that all darkness is just power in exile, waiting to be reclaimed and purified through awareness.
The mature masculine doesn’t repress the dark. He integrates it. He channels it through discipline, through presence, through purpose.
The same applies in trading. The immature trader is driven by greed and fear. He chases. He tilts. He forces outcomes. The mature trader moves with patience, precision, and detachment. He knows the market owes him nothing. He knows that control is illusion, and that true power is found in response, not reaction.
This is the alchemy of power — taking primal chaos and turning it into creation. Letting death teach mastery. Letting surrender generate strength.
That’s Pluto’s test. Can I hold intensity without losing integrity? Can I stand in chaos without collapsing into fear?
The Shadow and the Mirror
Every time I judge someone, I meet a disowned part of myself. Every enemy is a projection of my own shadow. That’s Pluto’s mirror. It’s merciless, but it’s medicine.
It shows me what I still fear in myself — weakness, dependency, vulnerability, need. The things I condemn in others are the traits I’ve exiled in me.
Pluto’s energy pulls me toward them until I integrate. Until I stop running from my reflection and finally see: there’s no them. There’s only me, playing different roles in the grand theatre of my own psyche.
This is why the masculine path requires solitude. Silence. Stillness. The ability to face the monster without distraction. Because the monster isn’t out there — it’s the unintegrated force within. And every man who refuses that confrontation becomes enslaved by what he avoids.
Pluto demands honesty — brutal, surgical self-honesty. That’s why so many men resist it. It’s easier to blame the market, the world, the system, the woman, than to face the fear that lives beneath. But until I do, I’m trading with a shadow account — half my capital tied up in denial.
To become whole, I must bring that shadow to light. Name it. Own it. Reclaim its power.
The Rebirth
Eventually, the descent ends. The fire cools. The dust settles. And I emerge — raw, reborn, simplified. I’m not who I was before. I’m less performative, less reactive, less hungry for control. But I’m infinitely stronger.
Pluto’s gift is clarity. I no longer mistake volatility for threat. I no longer panic in drawdowns. I’ve learned to sit in uncertainty without losing my center. That’s wealth — the kind no market can crash.
The rebirth doesn’t mean the chaos stops. It means I stop fearing it. I can walk through endings with an open heart because I understand their purpose now. Every cycle — every bull and bear phase of life — serves the same intention: to strip away what isn’t real and reveal what is.
The trader and the masculine in me are no longer separate. Both are warriors of rhythm and precision. Both operate best in surrender. Both find freedom through structure, not control.
When I live this way, life itself becomes a trade — every moment an entry point, every challenge a test of conviction, every loss a recalibration of truth.
And I understand now — Pluto never wanted to destroy me. It wanted to show me who I am without the mask.
That’s the real profit.
That’s the alchemy of self.
Integration
To live with a Pluto complex is to live in constant transformation. I don’t get to coast. I’m wired for evolution. The depths call to me, and I answer — not because I’m addicted to intensity, but because I know there’s no growth without death.
Each time I shed a version of myself, I gain access to something deeper — wisdom, compassion, clarity, presence. These are the dividends of the soul. And like compound interest, they grow with every cycle of surrender.
This is the masculine path: to face annihilation and remain unshaken. To lose everything and stay rooted in purpose. To meet fear and say, “I see you. Let’s dance.”
That’s the spirit of the trader, too — not gambling, not chasing, but aligning. Reading the invisible currents of energy, knowing when to move and when to wait, trusting that the deeper intelligence of life is always trading in my favor.
And maybe that’s what Pluto has been teaching me all along:
Power isn’t control. It’s communion.
Death isn’t punishment. It’s purification.
And transformation isn’t chaos. It’s the natural rhythm of a soul that refuses to stay small.
So when the next wave comes — when life rips the chart apart and everything looks like collapse — I’ll remember: this is just the market of the soul correcting its excesses. It’s shaking out weak hands.
And I’ll sit there, steady in the storm, knowing that every death I’ve faced was just preparation for the next rebirth.
Because I don’t fear the underworld anymore.
I trade it.
And I always rise richer.
The Saturn Contract: Discipline, Time, and the Architecture of Power
If Pluto is the fire that destroys the illusion, Saturn is the stone that rebuilds the temple.
Where Pluto tears it down, Saturn builds it right.
Where Pluto teaches surrender, Saturn teaches discipline.
And between them, a man is forged.
The deeper I walk into this life — as a man, as a trader, as a creator — the more I understand this paradox: freedom doesn’t come from doing whatever I want. It comes from doing what must be done, even when I don’t want to. Saturn is the keeper of that law. It’s the gravity that holds me accountable to my potential.
If Pluto is the underworld, Saturn is the mountain. The climb itself is initiation.
The Contract
Every man with strong Saturn energy — or anyone walking the masculine path — has made a contract. Not with society. Not with other people. With Time itself.
The contract says: You will not be given what you want until you become who can hold it.
Saturn doesn’t deny me reward — it delays it. It withholds the crown until the work has been proven. It’s the slow hand of the clock testing whether my ambition is built on discipline or delusion.
When I was younger, I wanted speed. I thought success was about velocity — how fast I could climb, how quickly I could scale, how loudly I could win. Saturn broke that illusion the same way Pluto breaks control: by humbling me through limitation.
Nothing under Saturn comes easy. Every shortcut collapses. Every illusion of “arrival” gets taxed. It’s the planet of compression, boundaries, and law. It makes me earn every inch of progress. But what it gives me in return — when I finally stop resisting its tempo — is unshakable mastery.
Saturn doesn’t punish. It refines.
It teaches that true power is sustainable power — the kind that compounds through time.
It’s the architecture of excellence.
Discipline as Devotion
Discipline isn’t punishment. It’s devotion to something higher.
It’s the masculine form of love.
The boy resists rules. The man builds them.
When I finally understood this, everything changed — in my trading, my business, my body, my relationships. I realized I wasn’t being restricted; I was being trained. Saturn wasn’t the enemy. It was the coach who saw the king in me before I did.
To live under Saturn’s law is to take responsibility for every cause and effect in my life. No blaming, no shortcuts, no self-pity. Everything I experience is feedback. Every loss is a lesson. Every delay is divine timing.
Saturn strips the fantasy of control, but it replaces it with something stronger — competence.
Competence is power I can trust. It’s the quiet authority that doesn’t need to prove itself.
In trading, this shows up as process over prediction. Routine over impulse. Detachment over emotion. The Saturnian trader doesn’t need to be right; he needs to be consistent. He understands that wealth is a byproduct of discipline, not dopamine.
Every chart is a mirror of his relationship with time, patience, and precision.
Discipline is love measured in repetition.
The Weight of Time
Saturn is the ruler of time — Chronos. The one who devours his children because he knows anything born before its season will fail.
That’s what Saturn teaches: premature success is punishment. You have to be built before you’re blessed.
If Pluto initiates through death, Saturn initiates through delay.
Pluto tests surrender; Saturn tests endurance.
Every plateau I’ve hit, every slow season, every stretch of stagnation that felt like failure — that was Saturn training me to stop moving fast and start moving right.
It taught me that pace is spiritual.
That there’s no shortcut to depth.
That mastery requires boredom, patience, solitude, and silence — the hardest currencies in the modern world.
Saturn’s timeline is brutal to the ego but merciful to the soul. Because it guarantees that when the door opens, I’ll be ready to walk through it.
In trading, this is the difference between gamblers and professionals. The gambler wants results now. The professional knows time is an ally. The longer he endures, the more data he has, the more refined his intuition becomes.
Saturn’s returns compound slowly, then all at once.
That’s how wealth is built — not through hype, but through habit.
The Masculine Test
Saturn rules the archetype of the Father — the one who sets the boundaries, enforces the law, and demands accountability. For the masculine, this is the most sacred test: can I carry the weight of responsibility without resentment?
Modern culture demonizes the Father — it glamorizes freedom without consequence. But the mature masculine knows that boundaries don’t cage him; they carve him.
To submit to Saturn is to become trustworthy — to be the kind of man who can lead, protect, and provide not through dominance, but through discipline.
Pluto asks: Can you face death without fear?
Saturn asks: Can you face duty without complaint?
Both questions lead to the same truth: freedom is found on the other side of surrender.
Saturn doesn’t care about feelings. It cares about integrity. It doesn’t negotiate with excuses. It measures progress in consistency, not emotion. And when you stop fighting that — when you finally start honoring the small daily repetitions, the habits, the structure — life stabilizes.
Power stops leaking. Energy stops scattering.
The man becomes a fortress.
This is the architecture of power — the invisible discipline that holds everything upright when the winds of chaos blow.
Structure as Freedom
Everything sacred requires structure.
Without it, chaos reigns.
Saturn teaches me that commitment isn’t confinement — it’s containment. It’s what allows energy to flow without exploding. It’s the difference between a wildfire and a forge.
In trading, that structure looks like a plan — risk parameters, position sizing, journaling. In life, it looks like routine, boundaries, self-respect. The immature masculine wants freedom from structure; the mature masculine finds freedom through it.
Because when I build a container, I become unbreakable. I know where my edges are. I know where I end and where chaos begins.
And once I master the structure, I can bend it. I can move within it like an artist who’s mastered his instrument. That’s the paradox — discipline breeds fluidity. Order unlocks creativity.
Saturn builds the framework so Pluto’s fire doesn’t burn the house down.
Without Saturn, Pluto’s chaos consumes.
Without Pluto, Saturn’s structure calcifies.
Together, they create living power — form and flow in perfect tension.
The Trader’s Architecture
The most dangerous thing a trader can do is mistake volatility for opportunity.
The most powerful thing a trader can do is master time.
Saturn’s market rewards patience. It punishes impulsivity. The edge isn’t in speed — it’s in rhythm. It’s in aligning with the cycles of expansion and contraction, learning to wait when others force, and to act when others hesitate.
The same law applies to the masculine path. Timing is everything. Action without readiness is destruction. Restraint at the wrong time is stagnation.
The Saturnian trader doesn’t react; he responds. He builds systems that protect him from himself. He doesn’t need luck, because he’s aligned with law.
He honors the slow grind. He finds meaning in monotony. He’s not addicted to novelty; he’s loyal to mastery.
Because he knows that every tick on the chart is a reflection of the law of cause and effect.
And every cause he plants with intention compounds over time.
The Crown
Saturn is often depicted as the old king — stern, unyielding, cold. But behind that mask lies wisdom, earned through discipline.
When I stop fighting Saturn, I realize it was never trying to limit me — it was protecting me from my own chaos. It was teaching me to build something that lasts.
The real crown isn’t given by the world. It’s placed by Time itself. And Time only crowns those who’ve honored it — who’ve shown up every day, done the work, and built the foundation brick by brick.
In trading, that’s consistency. In life, it’s integrity.
The masculine that submits to Saturn becomes unshakable. He doesn’t need validation, because his results speak in years, not days. He doesn’t chase momentum — he builds momentum.
That’s what mastery feels like: quiet, patient, inevitable.
Integration: The Law of Power
Saturn and Pluto form the two ends of the masculine spectrum. One destroys; the other builds. One burns; the other binds. Together, they teach the sacred rhythm of evolution: death and discipline, chaos and order, fire and form.
Pluto strips me bare. Saturn rebuilds me clean.
Pluto teaches surrender. Saturn teaches structure.
Pluto gives power through death. Saturn gives power through time.
When I honor both, I move through life with gravity. My word carries weight. My presence stabilizes chaos. I don’t need to prove anything — I’ve proven it to myself.
That’s the architecture of power:
Face death without fear.
Carry duty without complaint.
Hold chaos within structure.
Move slow, move true, move forever.
The boy chases glory. The man builds legacy.
That’s the Saturn contract.
That’s the law that turns potential into power.
And when I sign it willingly — every day, through action — Time itself becomes my ally.
Because the moment I stop trying to outrun the clock,
I realize I’ve become it.
LIVE FEARLESS, NOT RECKLESS.
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