The Day I Actually Listened to the Stars
Alright, so usually I skim that monthly stuff. You know the drill—’great communication upcoming,’ ‘a small windfall is possible.’ Garbage. I’m a practical guy, I write these logs to track real-world results, not cosmic mumbo-jumbo. But for whatever reason, that Jennifer Angel piece hit different this time. I was sitting there, burnt out on the same old low-paying gigs, scrolling through my feed, and I saw it, smack in the middle of a terrible Thursday afternoon.
The line, specifically for my sign, the one that made me stop and actually re-read it, said: “Virgo, a forgotten seed planted months ago is ready for harvest. You must reach out and claim it by the third week, or the window closes. Act Fast on This!”
A forgotten seed. What the heck did that even mean? I had fifty half-finished projects, maybe fifty-five. I had pitched ideas that went nowhere. I had old client contacts who ghosted me. I had an old partner, let’s call him Leo, from that disastrous product launch back in ’22. We parted ways messy, but he owed me a huge chunk of IP and access rights that I never bothered to chase up because the whole thing was too toxic.
It was a headache I’d successfully avoided for two years. But that horoscope, that damn four-word command—Act Fast on This!—it felt like a specific instruction, not a generic prediction. It felt like the universe was kicking my tired butt.
Why I Almost Blew It (Same Old Crap)
Let me tell you, I was mentally paralyzed. My current situation was pure chaos. I had just gotten the final repair quote for my truck—way over budget. My savings account was looking thinner than my hair. My head was not in the game. I was too busy fighting current fires to look up and see a potential lifeline.
I remembered the Angel advice, but my brain kept protesting: ‘Leo? Really? That guy is a known procrastinator. Chasing him will just reopen old wounds and waste a day you don’t have.’ I almost filed that horoscope email under ‘read later,’ which, let’s be honest, means ‘delete never read.’ I literally shut the laptop down twice that afternoon, convinced it was a stupid idea.
The internal debate was fierce. It’s the classic human struggle: the known misery versus the terrifying potential of an unknown success. If I acted now, I risked total rejection and a wasted effort. If I waited, I risked nothing but staying exactly where I was, which was bad enough.
I spent an hour looking up other astrologers for my sign, trying to find one that said, ‘Relax, it will all work out next month.’ Nope. Angel’s advice was the loudest, most urgent thing in my entire feed. It finally pissed me off enough to move.
I Pulled the Trigger: My “Act Fast” Checklist
That phrase—’The window closes.’—it stuck. It was the only actual action item I had. Fine. I decided to treat the contact attempt like tearing off a band-aid. Fast and without thinking too much about the pain. I closed the truck repair quote tab and opened my old archived communications. This is exactly what I did, step-by-step:
- Dug Up the Dirt: I scrolled through layers of old emails, Slack messages, and even a weird forgotten Telegram group to find Leo’s current, working number. Took me twenty minutes. I didn’t stop to read the old fights; I just grabbed the contact.
- Wrote the Blunt Text: I didn’t try to be clever or professional. I sent a blunt, maybe overly casual, text: ‘Leo. About that IP access from ’22. I need to activate it now. Call me in the next 24 hours or I’m moving to legal.’ No ‘How are you?’ No small talk. Just the demand.
- Ignored the Wait: The absolute hardest part. Instead of staring at my phone and overanalyzing the lack of three blue checkmarks, I forced myself to go outside and clean out the disaster zone that was my shed, just to keep moving and stop checking the screen every three seconds. I made sure my body was doing a non-digital, painful task.
It wasn’t a perfect pitch. It was rough. It was quick. I used the word ‘legal’ maybe a little too soon. I didn’t proofread the text; I just sent the damn thing while that weird, urgent energy from the horoscope was still pushing me. That’s the act fast part. It’s not about finding the perfect sequence; it’s about creating momentum before the opportunity or your courage fades.
The Harvest and The Lesson
Guess what? Leo responded in forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes! His text was just as brief: ‘Okay. Access details sent to your old email. Sorry for the delay. Was hoping you forgot about it. Good luck.’ And then he actually signed a new document transferring the rights immediately.
The ‘forgotten seed’ wasn’t just old IP; it was the key to a passive income stream that I totally underestimated. With the legal access secured, I could finally turn that digital asset into a marketable product. Within a week, I was taking in real money—not a lottery win, but a steady, reliable stream that paid the truck bill with cash to spare.
Here’s the massive thing I realized, and this is the core of this whole practice log. It’s not about Jennifer Angel being a psychic genius, and honestly, who cares if she is? It’s about that specific, singular instruction to Act Fast. Most of the time, the opportunity is right there, ready to go, but we delay. We overthink the approach. We polish the pitch until it’s meaningless. We wait for the perfect feeling or the perfect time to act.
The ‘window closing’ isn’t about fate; it’s about human nature. Leo finally caved because I was decisive. If I had waited until Tuesday to ‘think about it’ or send a polite, drawn-out email, he would have found a reason to ignore me again. I only got the payout because I was faster and blunter than his ability to procrastinate.
So, my biggest takeaway from this whole messy experiment? The advice isn’t the key—the speed is the key. When you feel that gut nudge, even if it comes from some random astrologer, just move your feet immediately. The quick ones get rewarded. Stop waiting for the moment to be perfect. Start moving while it’s still rough around the edges. That’s how things actually get done.
