Man, let me tell you straight up, I never used to be one of those guys who sat around checking their star signs. Give me a P&L statement or a user retention report any day over some cosmic mumbo-jumbo. But listen to this story, because it explains why I started this whole mad monthly practice of implementing Daruwalla’s Virgo charts.
I got burned. Bad. I mean, my entire savings account went up in smoke kind of burned. I’d sunk everything, and I mean everything, into this stupid bespoke software startup, right before the market completely tanked. We were six months in, the product was barely half-baked, and the VC funding I was absolutely sure I had lined up suddenly vanished like smoke after a phone call where the guy just kept saying “synergy” and “pivot” until I hung up.
I was sitting there, staring at a negative balance, the landlord calling non-stop, and my wife absolutely beside herself. I tried everything. I called every old contact. I begged previous employers. I ran the numbers a hundred different ways, trying to find a magical solution. Every financial guy, every ‘expert’ I cornered for advice, just shrugged and gave me the same worthless drivel. I felt completely adrift. I was desperate for a plan, even a stupid one.
The Selection: Why Daruwalla?
One night, I was just scrolling, completely wired on bad coffee, looking up anything that might offer a hint of hope. I accidentally clicked on an astrology link. I’m a Virgo, so I checked that one. Most of them were pure garbage, saying stuff like “A pleasant surprise awaits!” Useless. Then I stumbled on Bejan Daruwalla’s piece. His stuff just had a different ring to it. It felt… heavy. Like old-school knowledge, not just clickbait. I figured, what the hell. If the MBAs couldn’t help, maybe the stars had a better spreadsheet.
I committed right then and there. I decided I wouldn’t just read the prediction for the coming month; I would treat it as my official project roadmap. This wasn’t about belief; it was a desperate act of organizational planning fueled by desperation.
The Monthly Practice: From Stars to Spreadsheet
The whole process became a massive practical exercise. I pulled up the online article—the one with the ‘Key Predictions’—and I copied and pasted the entire thing into a basic text document. I then ran an analysis, segmenting the predictions into four key operational areas that mattered to me: Financial, Career/Venture, Relationships, and Health/Focus.
Here’s how I would systematically break down the vague astrological language into concrete, actionable items (my ‘Task List’ for the month):
- The Prediction: “Be cautious in financial dealings around the 15th.”
- My Action: I immediately blocked out three days around the 15th on my calendar. I verbally told my business partner to hold all large payments and sign no new contracts during that window. I spent those days meticulously reviewing old contracts, not seeking new deals. I enforced a mandatory financial freeze.
- The Prediction: “Good time to travel and meet people important to your career growth.”
- My Action: The word “travel” when I’m broke means “take the damn subway.” I identified five key people I hadn’t talked to in six months. I drafted personalized, non-demanding emails to each one, basically just checking in. I forced myself to attend two free industry meetups I would normally skip, explicitly looking for networking contacts who could help me pull the startup out of the mud. I literally clocked my networking interactions.
- The Prediction: “Minor health concerns may cause distraction. Pay attention to your diet.”
- My Action: This one was personal. I was living on ramen and stress. I eliminated fast food entirely. I allocated the money I saved from not buying fancy coffee to just buying whole fruits and vegetables. I scheduled a mandatory 30-minute walk every single day at noon to clear my head, tracking my steps. I treated my physical state like a project deliverable.
I repeated this process every single month. I cross-referenced the new predictions with the past month’s failures and successes. I wrote down my internal resistance to the tasks and then forced myself to do them anyway, just because they were “on the chart.”
The Real Insight: The Result of the Practice
Did the things Daruwalla predicted actually happen? Who the hell knows. Maybe the stars helped, maybe they didn’t. That’s not the point. The point is what this practice did to me.
I realized I had outsourced my organizational structure to a horoscope. By having those vague phrases—like “Financial prudence advised”—I was forced to take action. It wasn’t about destiny; it was about intentionality. When the chart said, “Focus on communication with a senior figure,” I knew I had to stop procrastinating and finally call the difficult client who owed us money. The prediction gave me the permission and the deadline I needed.
The startup eventually stabilized, though not in the way I originally planned. We scraped by, we pivoted hard, and we landed a small, steady contract that kept us afloat. Was it the movement of Jupiter? Maybe. But I can tell you for sure it was the fact that I stopped waiting for a miracle and started executing a plan, even if that plan’s source material was a monthly horoscope reading.
It’s stupid, I know. But treating the whole thing as a monthly tactical operations manual, where the cosmic energy provided the framework for hard, physical work, actually changed the trajectory of my whole life. Now, every month, I still pull up the chart, I process the insights, and I lock down the next 30 days of tasks. It’s my weird, dependable, non-traditional project management system. And I’m not stopping anytime soon. Don’t miss those insights, man. Don’t miss the action they force you to take.
