Man, let me tell you, I started this whole thing as a total joke. Not the career changes themselves—those were very real, very stressful—but looking at the stars for advice? Pure desperation. I’m a Virgo, and anyone who knows us knows we are generally allergic to anything that isn’t a spreadsheet. But hey, when you’re staring down the barrel of a bankruptcy notice because you walked out on a job without a plan, you try anything. That’s how this weird little practice of mine got rolling.
My Messy Start: Turning Cosmic Clues into Action Items
It was maybe five years ago. I’d just lost my anchor, you know? Not fired, but the whole structure of my life just collapsed. I spent a week watching those weird YouTube astrology channels, the ones where the person is always whispering. I decided if I was going to look for a “Big career change,” I wasn’t waiting for a lightning bolt. I was going to force the weekly focus. I needed a methodology, however silly.
I dragged out an old, beat-up ledger—the one I used to track mileage—and I started marking it up. I’m talking about a full-on, handwritten tracking system, because opening a new spreadsheet felt like going back to the chaos I’d just escaped. My first step was filtering the noise.
I dug up three main sources:
- The whispering YouTube channel (for the emotional vibe).
- A very old-school, text-heavy website (for the specific dates and keywords).
- An annoying pop-up app (because it gave a single, blunt action item).
I would read them every Sunday night. The initial task, the first time I did this practice, was all about ‘releasing old grudges’ and ’embracing unconventional alliances.’ Sounds like garbage, right? But here’s what I actually did.
The Practice: How I Forced the Focus
My entire practice revolved around translating that vague, flowery astrology language into three concrete, achievable tasks for the week ahead. The title of this week’s practice, What you need to focus on this week, is exactly what I forced myself to write down. If the horoscope said “The Universe wants you to step into your power and redefine boundaries,” I wrote down:
- Monday: Send the draft resignation letter to the junk email folder (symbolic boundary).
- Wednesday: Call that old boss I swore I’d never speak to again and genuinely apologize for something stupid I said (releasing a grudge/unconventional alliance).
- Friday: Wear something completely ridiculous to the coffee shop just to see what happens (stepping into power/unconventional).
That first week, the one that talked about ‘unconventional alliances,’ I forced myself to reach out to a contact who was in a completely different industry than mine—architecture. I’d always been in finance. It felt awkward, like I was wasting his time. But the focus was there. I was acting on the prompt.
I then tracked the outcome in the ledger. It wasn’t about whether I made a million dollars. It was: Did the action create a shift? My ledger notes for that week were rough:
Note for Wednesday Contact: Called the old boss. He sounded surprised. Ended up talking about his new company for an hour. Mentioned he needs someone who understands compliance part-time. Weird.
Note for Friday Outfit: Wore the bright green shirt. Three people stared. One guy, turns out he manages the local community center, asked me if I was ‘an artist.’ He mentioned they need someone to organize their budget for the fall festival. No finance jargon needed. Easy compliance work.
See, nothing “Big” happened. No huge career change announcement. But the seeds were planted. The horoscope’s vague instruction became a verb, an action I executed. I realized the prediction wasn’t the point. The focus was the point.
The Realization: Connecting the Dots
I kept this up for six months. Every Sunday, I sat down, I translated the cosmic nonsense into three earthly tasks, and I executed them. The “Big career changes” weren’t a sudden offer letter from a mega-corp; they were tiny redirections of my energy.
I started noticing patterns. When the stars told me to focus on ‘domestic stability,’ I stopped pitching far-flung clients and focused on people in my town. When the focus was ‘deep communication,’ I stopped emailing and started asking for video calls. I was using the horoscope as a prompt generator for low-stakes, high-impact behavioral experiments.
The biggest change? That part-time community center gig turned into a full-time, self-directed consultancy role within four months. It was a massive career shift—from high-pressure finance sales to small-town non-profit management—but it never felt like a “big change” at the time. It was just a sequence of logical, small actions driven by the weekly focus prompts.
So, when I look at next week’s Virgo career reading, I don’t look for doom or glory. I look for the verb. I ask, “What tiny, annoying, or awkward thing should I do this week that I wouldn’t do otherwise?” The stars don’t hand you a career; they just maybe, possibly, give you a slightly different lens to decide which road to walk down. And that, my friends, is my whole practice. It works because I force myself to actually move.
