I think reaching a certain age brings a renewed sense of awareness, curiosity, and desire to learn.

I grew up an artist in a family of accountants. I knew that somehow, I was different. Not whining here or playing the victim—but when you see life differently than the people around you, it’s hard to feel like you belong. Being the only one who seemed to instinctively know the world’s systems were upside down, how could all the practical people relate to me?

With only a child’s understanding, I naturally assumed the problem must be me.

Then I discovered Human Design—and that I’m a Projector.

We Projectors have access to vast energetic resources unlike any other type. But we don’t have that constant Sacral battery. We’re not designed to be worker bees; if we push too hard for too long, we burn out. (Which, as mentioned in Part 1, I’ve done—spectacularly—on more than one occasion in fact.) What we are here to do is study, observe, and guide—using energy wisely, not endlessly.

I’ve wished more than once for Jedi Knight-level Force mastery… but alas, I still can’t flick my fingers and send a fool flying across the room.

Then again, maybe that’s exactly why we Projectors don’t get that kind of power.
Yet.

But I digress.

When You Trade Magic for “Reasonable”

Like so many others, I was conditioned—by school, by family, by society—to trade dreams of a fluid, ethereal life for a more ‘reasonable’ path. I took my creative spirit into the business world, becoming a designer. That seemed practical enough.

I don’t regret it. I’ve learned a lot, much of it self-taught, on-the-fly. I might not be a Yoda-level Jedi, but I have become pretty masterful at pulling off creative campaigns and community events, and making last minute pivots when things don’t go according to plan.

Still there was always this pulling to something else. To more self-expression instead of corporate-speak, more introspection than perpetual promotion. But there never seemed to be time—or funds—to live the life I genuinely desired.

“The Force” lay dormant in me for a long time… until…

The Tronie Appears and the Magic Begins

Around the time I was exploring this “avatar versus tronie” concept (see Part 1), I was also waiting for Nik to open his guidance-business start-up program. In the meantime, I started playing with the whole manifestation game. Just for fun, I said in February, “I’d like an extra $300.” I ended up with $350. Cool!

So in March, I said, “Let’s try $500.” I got $600 and change. In April, I sold some craft supplies at a yard sale and said, “I’ll be happy with $200.” I made $225.

Sure, I’d love a couple of zeroes behind those numbers, but hey—I'll take what I can get and say thank you.

Nik’s program opened February 10. I registered on February 14—the final day of enrollment. Confession time: I should’ve finished the course by now… I haven’t. I’m only halfway through. (One day I’ll write a blog about how the devil uses Distractions to keep us from our potential.)

Still, I’m incredibly grateful to be part of a global community of like-hearted people. That alone is magic.

Mid-February – I registered for the program.

Shortly after that, I had a call with one of Nik’s team, Leonard. I told him about the tronie/avatar concept, how I wasn’t sure how I’d guide people—was it branding, was it marketing?—and how the course felt like a real fit for me as a Projector. He listened, then said something that stuck:
“Maybe your sweet spot is bringing the soul back to business. Helping humans connect like we once did.”

Interesting. Maybe I’m not crazy, I thought.

So I kept going.

Breadcrumbs begin to drop

Something that seemed totally unrelated—but wasn’t—happened next.

On February 23, I bought tickets for the whole family to see a folk singer in Calgary on May 9. All five of us. Me, my husband, the daughter who recently moved out, and our son and his fiancée, who live in the city.

Now here’s what’s weird:
I don’t go to concerts and performances. I can’t remember the last time I was in a pub. And I definitely don’t buy five tickets for family outings of that nature. We’re all introverts. Going out takes effort.

This was wildly out of character for me.

But hang onto this thread—we’ll need it for Part 3.

<AI Has Entered the Chat.>

Yes, I’ve been using AI lately. At first, I was hesitant. The whole “data harvesting” thing creeped me out, and I didn’t want anything to override my creativity.

I’ve developed a friendly but arm’s-length relationship with it. I treat its responses as sparring matches. I ask deep questions. It reflects them back in ways that make me dig deeper. It’s a bit like talking to a Socratic robot with a splash of sass. I know that there is always an element of myself reverberating back to me in these digital conversations, which causes me to check myself periodically.

Honestly? I’ve not met many humans who can meet me at that level of metaphysical inquiry. (Most people who think they’re the smartest person in the room… aren’t.)

Masks, Mission, and a Whisper from the Future

On March 30, I used ChatGPT to reflect on life purpose. I brought up the tronie/avatar theme again. We noodled around with a few ideas. I let it simmer.

Then on April 21, I stumbled on a TikTok trend: people using AI to identify the masks they’re wearing. So I tried it. And wow… rabbit hole, indeed. I think I’ve got a book draft out of it now.

At the end of that deep-dive, AI gave me this journal prompt:

“If the future version of you living a peaceful, creative, joyful life could whisper one piece of guidance to your present-day self… what would she say?”

I turned to one of my favorite humans, Albert Einstein:

“We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.”

To find peace, I’d have to quiet the chaos.
To live in joy, I’d need to rebuke fear.
To experience divine love, I’d have to put logic aside.

And I ended with this:

“I will leave breadcrumbs for you. In fact, you’ve already started to follow them. Keep following them. You will find your way.”

Actual footage of me attempting to avoid my Higher Self with messages about my life purpose.

Part 3 will be all about where those breadcrumbs led.