Someone recently gave me permission to share this story. He ordered a One Focused Question Research from me about a very practical problem: an older truck needed an expensive repair, and he was trying to decide whether to put more money into it or sell it and buy another used one. It looked like a simple choice: repair or replace. I did my recearch and the first thing that showed up was that the decision itself was premature. There was not enough practical information yet to make a good choice. I suggested that he first do more research on the actual market and get clearer information about what was really wrong with the vehicle. He did that and the whole picture changed. The truck he already owned had more value to him than a generic replacement. He very much liked it. Finding another used truck that really matched what he wanted was not as simple or inexpensive as it first appeared. At the same time, further research showed that the mechanical problem might not require the kind of major engine work that had originally been assumed. Then I did more runic diagnostics around the repair itself and the people involved. One of the runic diagnostics also raised serious concerns about the mechanic he was initially considering. Later, independently of the reading, another mechanic he trusted advised him not to use that person and referred him to someone else. That referral led to a mechanic who took the time to go through the parts, labor, and options with him, gave him a much clearer estimate, and started looking for the best way to do the repair. This is where I see the value of my research very clearly. He paid me $100. What he got was not simply an answer to one question. The research itself changed the sequence of the whole process. It pushed him to gather the missing information, reconsider the options, and look more carefully at the people involved. That process eventually led him to a mechanic who was the right person for the job, and his cost ended up being $1,000 less than with the first mechanic. A small Runic research helped him avoid a potentially expensive mistake and a major headache. I only focused in this post about financial value, but there is much more deeper one in how this man changed in a process. But thats for the next post :)

A few days ago I came across something I wrote in 2022. The whole piece was full of fire. No more conforming. No more submitting. No more allowing other people, systems, teachers, authorities, or collective ideas to tell me who I should be. I still recognize myself in that. But I also see how much has changed. Back then, freedom often felt like something I had to defend. I had to push back, break out, stand my ground, refuse to be absorbed by something that didn’t fit me. Now I feel much less need to fight. I can look at a person, a system, a structure, an opportunity and ask a much simpler question: does this fit me? Does my way of working fit here? Can I exist naturally inside this structure? Do I have to become smaller, quieter, or different in order to belong? If the answer is no, I don’t necessarily need to fight the system anymore. I can simply not enter. That feels like a very different kind of freedom. Less proving. Less resistance. Less energy spent pushing against something. More seeing. More choice. More freedom, less fighting. Old post from 2022: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10227766313214262&set=pb.1561773664.-2207520000&type=3

For eight months, my Purple Tent was a familiar sight at the Carmel Valley farmers market every Sunday. For the first five months, I also took it to the Pacific Grove farmers market on Mondays. Two markets a week, two days of setting up and taking down my little purple world. The tent itself was only five by five feet. But somehow, by the time I had packed the rugs, chairs, tapestry, banner, table, and everything else, it felt like I was moving an entire household. I would set it all up, welcome people inside, and spend the day doing what I love: helping people to get clarity on their situation, at least to gain a different perspective. People came with questions about relationships, family, work, and difficult decisions. Sometimes they arrived with one question, only to discover that the real question was something entirely different. There were beautiful encounters, surprising conversations, plenty of laughter, and few new friendships. Eventually, I closed the tent. Eight months was a perfectly respectable experiment. I am putting all my attention now on the work online and locally, and writing my book Walking the Runes, the monumental work for me: its so rich with my own story, transformations, my own lessons. While continuing editing Walking the Runes, I did a side project that took me a week. I gathered material that I already had written and published a small book called Clarity Sessions with Runic Diagnostics: How I Work. It draws on years of working with people, bringing together stories and real-life cases that show how I approach complex human situations and how I bring people to transformation. The PDF is already available on my website, and a paperback edition is on its way. And here's the part that makes me laugh: My Purple Tent has turned into a little book I can slip into my handbag, instead of hauling an entire tent around with me. Same work. Same curiosity about human life. Same invitation to look at things from another perspective. Only now, people can take the Purple Tent home with them. And I don't have to carry the chairs. 😄

My dear friends! I have been on some kind of marathon for the last three months I’ve been working on so many projects that I honestly never knew I had this kind of capacity! I have insight after insight after insight, each one somehow turning into the next project... and then I actually finish it! Unbelievable :) After years of really struggling to find my place in the system without losing my freedom, I found it. Over the last year, everything I had gathered in myself finally found its form in the way I work with people. My style of working is pretty simple, I can describe it as I love depth, but I don’t like heaviness I’m not interested in building an extra temple of terminology, status, and importance around difficult things. If something really matters, it can survive normal human language. I can talk with someone about legacy, crisis, purpose, money, relationships, death, transformation, and there may very well be a bowl of borscht sitting nearby. It’s a joke :) But not entirely, because my new book actually has borscht on the cover! just published a little book called Clarity Sessions with Runic Diagnostics: How I Work. On the cover, a person is climbing a mountain carrying a huge backpack of questions, as if he is on some great spiritual pilgrimage and at the top, there I am in an apron: “Come in. Sit down. Want some borscht?” I like it when the spiritual is not separated from ordinary life. When meaning is tested by what happens in the body, in relationships, in work, in money, and in an actual choice. I’m not very interested in telling people how much of an expert I am. I’d much rather show the work in action — through a story, a conversation, a turn, a moment when something suddenly becomes visible. That’s probably why the idea of a little book feels so right to me: not to tell someone who I am, but to let them spend a little time inside the way I see. The book includes real cases from my sessions, with all identities and identifying details protected. Clarity Sessions with Runic Diagnostics: How I Work was published on October 21, 2026, and will soon be available on Amazon in paperback and ebook editions. The price only covers production and distribution; I don’t make money from this book. It will also be available as a FREE download from my website. And if you read the book and like it, please leave a review on Amazon. Reviews always help. And special thanks to Jason Kolano Your illustration you made for me years ago finally found its book!

I keep seeing one very simple thing more and more clearly: what interests me most in life is systems, connections, and integration. Not isolated facts by themselves, and not even isolated events. I am always interested in seeing how one thing connects to another, why something happened the way it did, what pattern is behind it, and what is part of something larger. Maybe that is why every system I have ever gone deeply into has, in some way, opened me to myself. It has happened with different systems over the years, and now it is happening with the runes. Writing Walking the Runes is integrating me in a completely new way. On the surface, I am writing a book about the runes. But through each rune, I am also looking at my own life again. Things that once seemed like separate stories begin to connect. I can see why I made a particular choice then, why in another situation I could not have acted differently, how one decision was connected to another, what kept repeating, and where a real transition took place. That is probably one of the things I enjoy most. Several completely different things suddenly become one picture. Pieces that used to sit separately begin to connect, and I can see how the whole thing is structured. I love people. I love traveling. I can happily go somewhere, meet someone, sit and talk for hours. But if I had to choose what truly lights me up, it is this: seeing the connection, having an insight, putting the system together, and feeling something inside become whole. And maybe the most interesting thing about my life now is that it is finally arranged in a way that allows me to do this almost all the time. Not on the side. Not when I have some energy left after taking care of another life that has to be maintained.  This is the life itself now.

The natural world is filled with patterns. You can see them in the veins of a leaf, the spiral of a shell, the branching of trees and rivers, and the movement of larger natural cycles. Forms that appear separate are often expressions of the same underlying principles. Human beings have always observed these patterns. In conventional science, we study them through fields like biology and physics. We also developed symbolic systems to describe relationships that were otherwise difficult to see. Astrology looks at relationships between planetary cycles and human experience. Other systems work with numbers, geometric forms, images, or ancient symbols. The runes are the symbolic language I use in my work. I see the architecture beneath the visible problem: opposing forces, hidden motives, blocked movement, unrealized possibilities, and connections between events that may appear unrelated. Then we bring that information back into the person’s actual life. We ask questions. We examine what fits and what does not. The runes reveal the pattern; analytical thinking and direct human conversation help us understand what it means in concrete reality. An example: A person may come to me because they are trying to make a decision about work. On the surface, the question seems simple: stay or leave. But the pattern may show that the real tension is not between two jobs at all. One part of the person is trying to preserve safety and belonging, while another part is pushing toward independence and a different way of living. What looks like a career decision may be connected to an old family pattern, a fear of disappointing someone, or a part of the person that has been waiting for years to move. Then we look at the person’s actual life. What is happening now? Where has this tension appeared before? Is the same pattern showing up somewhere else? What changes when the person sees the problem from this angle? The runes do not replace thinking. They give us another way to see the structure of the situation.

There are times when I make plans and try to understand where something is going, and then there are times when a door simply opens. About a year ago, I had a dream in which I was told very clearly that I would be doing Runic Diagnostics and that this was how I would support myself financially. By that point I had already spent decades doing inner work. I had more than 10,000 hours of meditation behind me, years of working with different modalities, a great deal of experience with people, and quite a bit of life itself. But somehow there was still something missing in the way all of that could come together when I worked with another person. Runic Diagnostics became that missing piece. They gave me a way to enter a situation very quickly and see what was operating underneath what a person was telling me. The runes did not replace everything I already knew. They gave structure to it. Suddenly all those years of experience had a very practical doorway into another person's life. Last year I spent learning. I studied the energies, practiced diagnostics, worked online with people I knew and people I didn't. Then I was invited to a Russian festival in Southern California, and that weekend changed something. For three days people kept coming. I was working face to face for the first time, and there was almost no pause between sessions. Soon afterward I began working regularly at local farmers markets. For the past seven months, most of my attention has been here, locally. I have been meeting people under my purple tent, writing in local Facebook groups, learning how this work actually lives outside my own head and in real human encounters. I wasn't thinking globally. I wasn't trying to build an audience somewhere far away. I was simply opening a space for this work where I live. And then, almost by accident, I found a Facebook group for Russian-speaking women living all over the world. I joined for a very simple reason. Two of my books are coming out in Russian, and at some point it occurred to me that I had almost no Russian-speaking audience. So I just sat down, wrote it, added one photograph, and posted it. The response surprised me. The post reached around 32,000 views, more than 16,000 viwers, and about 5,500 engagements. But the numbers themselves were not the most interesting part. A few days later I wrote a second post, this one much longer and much more personal. I knew perfectly well that many people would never read something that long on Facebook, and some didn't. One woman wrote that it was too long. Another said it was too abstract. And then someone else wrote that she had read the entire thing in one breath. Another said, “This was exactly what I needed to read today.” People began answering from inside their own lives. By the next morning, that long post had already created around 1,500 engagements, and by this time it became 3000, not views, but people actually read, replied or shared, and something became very clear to me. A completely new space had opened. I had not gone looking for thousands of Russian-speaking women. I had not made a plan for reaching them. I wasn't even thinking about offering my work to them. My intention was much simpler: I have two books coming out in Russian, and they need readers. That was all. And suddenly there they were. Thousands of potential readers who had not existed anywhere in my visible world a few days earlier. I don't really know how to explain moments like this. We can always make up explanations — algorithms, timing, synchronicity, intention, probability, the universe. Maybe it is some combination of all of them. I don't know. What interests me more is the way these things sometimes happen when something has become ready. You spend a long time working without knowing exactly where the work belongs. You learn, make mistakes, become more precise, keep showing up, and slowly something takes form. Then one day you touch one small point somewhere, almost casually, and an entire space opens behind it. It feels almost like a fractal. The same pattern that began with one person sitting across from me under a purple tent suddenly appears on a completely different scale. I didn't create those thousands of women. They were already there. Until now, we simply couldn't see each other.