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“2025 was hard, man. There were so many fails and faceplants… but also a lot of... success?"

It was just me and Patrick, my tattooist, in the studio last night, working to get the last of my snake scales outlined so we can finish shading at the end of this month.

(I've been working on tattooing a full sleeve of stunning art onto my left arm since July 2025, icymi.)

Anyways, Patrick is old enough to be my dad and in addition to the inevitable bond that forms when someone is putting their art on your body over a period of hours and weeks and months, we've also bonded over the fact that we've both lived very non-linear lives.

Careers that zigged when they were supposed to zag. Jobs and businesses we built ourselves that somehow still let us pay the bills and talk about real shit with real people.

And at some point I said it out loud:

Because it’s true. It’s been… weird.

There was a decent stretch that felt like I had it figured out. Things were movin’ and grovin’.

Then Cancer season hit and the wheels came off.

On paper, it looked like I was lost.
Energetically, I was being redirected.
Emotionally, though, I was throwing a full-blown tantrum.

😩 Because wdym I got rejected from 4 teaching jobs??
🫠 Wdym my training program won't certify me as a teacher (even though I passed BOTH state tests I was mandated to take!)??
💀 Wdym my mentor was abruptly reassigned and now I have no one to guide me forward?

Wtf do I do now?!

I thought relinquishing my vision of an online business and turning into an info-based side hustle was me showing humility??? I thought it was me accepting less in the name of “enoughness.” So why does it feel like I'm being punished???

👆 That’s what I remember thinking anyways, roundabouts last July (aka Cancer szn).

And I didn’t know it then, but that stretch became a line in the sand for me — a moment I’d later look back on and say: oh, yeah. that’s when things shifted.

I remember vividly for two reasons:

1 — Cancer season is my 8th house and every 👏 year👏, without fail, I can expect something to happen during my 8th house progression.

Remember my email from July?? When I was like “wow, this Cancer season is going so smooth! Why was I even worried?” 💁‍♀️ LMAOOOOO. Jokes on me. I jinxed it and spoke too soon.

2 — While doors where opening up for me, I was busy grieving everything that had fallen apart.

I was so proud that FINALLY, I could say that I AT LEAST had a 3-year plan. I was going to become a teacher, land a teaching job in the fall, complete my first year of teaching, then glide into my 2nd and 3rd years as I contemplated a Master’s program.

Bing-bada-boom.

And then The Universe was like, “nah, that ain’t for you.”

It’s like I’m not supposed to have a 5-year-plan 😭

Wait, OMG… I’m not supposed to have a 5-year-plan? 👀

God, this is Ash. If you can hear me, I’m gonna need you to confirm if that’s true.

Then BAM — clients landed in my lap and I was back to square one wondering WTF kinda business I was gonna build. Back to not really knowing where I was going, back to running purely on vibes and intuition to guide me forward in increments of baby steps and delusion.

Without effort, business picked up, I suddenly had a roster of coaching clients, and just like that I distinctly remember thinking: something is happening.

(So yeah, God definitely sent some confirmation. ⚡😮)

Now, I didn’t LIKE what was happening because it was a deviation from MY plan.

To throw me a bone in my hour of existential dread for my own future, one of my favorite indie authors and tarot readers opened her books and I immediately scheduled a session, knowing I needed an objective 3rd party to give it to me straight.

(the cards/Universe spoke: trust the process, lean into your passion projects and QUIT BEING SO F*CKING MEAN TO YOURSELF.)

And honestly?

That wasn’t some lightning bolt revelation.

It didn’t arrive with clarity or confidence or a new plan neatly color-coded in my Notes app.

It was quieter than that.

It was more like realizing I was still moving — still responding, still adjusting, still showing up — even without knowing where the hell this was all going.

And slowly, it's clicked:
The future doesn’t actually need more planners. It needs navigators. Wayfinders.

Or rather — it needs people with those skillsets.

Because this shit is learnable.

It doesn’t ask us to plan.
It asks us to orient.
To read what’s happening now and move from there.

Especially in seasons like that one: intense, uncertain, emotionally loud.

That’s what I ultimately took away from that period.

I lost my plan in order to find my footing.

(Almost like… what’s that phrase? Safe harbors don't make skilled sailors? Something like that.)

I didn’t know it then, but the Cancer Full Moon that season became what I now call a Waypoint — a moment that marks where you’ve been and orients you toward where you’re going.​ ​ A Waypoint doesn’t always feel like a breakthrough in real time. Sometimes it just feels like: excuse me??? why is my life doing parkour right now?? ​ But later, you can see it clearly. It’s a turning point. A marker stone in the story. But that moment looks different for everyone. For most people I’ve talked to, 2025 was a WEIRD year — not all bad, not all good — but meaningful. There’s something each of us is carrying forward from a specific moment, season, or decision point. Those are your Waypoints. Not to give you a map but to anchor you into the narrative of your own journey and help you navigate what comes next. Yes, even without a 5-year plan. And here’s the astrology piece that makes this feel even more… cosmically correct: Cancer and Capricorn sit opposite each other on the wheel — a literal axis. Two ends of the same rope. ♋ Cancer asks: what needs to release? What can’t be carried forward? What’s ready to be grieved, shed, softened, unclenched? ♑ Capricorn asks: okay… so what are we building now? What stays? What’s the structure? What’s the next commitment — not because it’s easy, but because it’s real? You don’t get Capricorn clarity without Cancer loss. They’re two sides of the same journey.

From Ash's Corner

That Cancer Full Moon last summer was a Waypoint I didn't know was dropping at the time. It just… happened to me.

But here's what I've learned since:

You can also DROP a Waypoint intentionally.

You can pause in the middle of the chaos, the grief, the redirect — and say: okay, I'm marking this. This matters. This is changing me. Let me witness it.

That’s the difference between being at the mercy of the moment and actually meeting it. It's when you take the reins and choose to assign meaning to something, to see the bigger picture. Yes, even in hindsight.

And the rhythm of astrology — the new moons, full moons, seasonal shifts — offers BUILT-IN moments to do exactly that. Little cosmic check-ins asking: where are you? what’s changing? what needs witnessing?

Which brings me back to now.

We're in Capricorn season. There's a Capricorn New Moon happening this Sunday.

Six months after my Cancer Full Moon implosion.

New Moons are beginnings and Capricorn is about building, structure, legacy — the thing you commit to NOT because it's easy, but because it's real.

So here I am, at the other end of that axis, ready to build something from what fell apart.

And I'm inviting you to do the same.

If I’m honest, I’m still not someone with a five-year plan. What I do have now is better footing.

I trust my timing more than I used to.
I trust my instincts faster.
And I’m way less interested in forcing clarity before it’s ready.

This season feels quieter. More intentional. Less “figure it all out,” more “what’s mine to build right now?”

Which feels very Capricorn, honestly. 😌

If you’re reading this from a place of uncertainty — especially if last year knocked the wind out of you — I hope you know this:

You don’t need the whole plan.
You just need to recognize the moments that already changed you.

Those are enough to move forward from. You’re allowed to take your time with what comes next.

Thanks for reading!

In cosmic camaraderie,

​

P.O. Box 532, Cedar Springs, MI 49319
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