Today is June 16th, 2025.

Numerology day 22.

Day 22. My number. My day.

The day that broke me. Cracked me from top to bottom and shattered me into a thousand pieces.

And then, when Ayla’s grandfather — my father, Alexandre — arrived, he gathered me back together with his love and his smile.

The question that has always haunted and frustrated me: Why could I read cards, interpret signs, and see the truth for everyone… except myself?

Why did I always doubt everything related to premonitions and visions when it came to me?

Well… luckily, that started to shift a little (ok, maybe a lot) back in 2023 and grew stronger in 2024.

Without even realizing it, I started to navigate energies and understand their meanings — to the point where I could tell whether the energy behind an answer was sincere, complete, hiding something, or just plain fake.

Do I always get it right? I don’t know.

I don’t waste my radar energy for nothing.

And then… 2025 came, with its explosion of challenges.

Grandfather Benedito — my father Alexandre (I prefer this version of him because his blue eyes and loving smile give me infinite peace) — says the pain came to make me cry and unclog the channels of my muted, gagged, petrified, and paralyzed sensitivity. All at once. And according to him, each blockage sat in a very specific part of me.

It also came to open the doors so I could talk to God.

He was never far — but our relationship had grown as cold as my own emotions.

And then came my process of transformation.

Moving houses.

Changing life.

Switching careers.

Changing everything.

And with that, the medicine of rapé came to save me.

Which led me to my last Ayahuasca ceremony back in October 2024.

A total wrecking.

Tupinambá laughs every time he hears me say that.

But it’s true. What can I do? They wrecked me good, flipped me inside out and upside down.

I went so deep into that experience that only now — today — do I understand part of its importance.

Seven months later.

For me, an eternity.

For them, the ones who guide me… just a breath.

But they weren’t satisfied. Nope.

They’re still out here breaking down my ego, my vanity, bringing me back to the present, making me the mistress of my own path.

Because yes — God answers. But it’s up to us to take the steps, to be ready, to place ourselves in the right frequency to receive.

The universe runs on wave frequencies way more precise than the ones guiding submarines or aircrafts.

Back to my opening question: Why not me…?

A long, long time ago…

A time lost to my memory...

On the border of Canada, in the Sioux tribe...

A young yet wise and much beloved native woman, already an acknowledged seer — not because she was the shaman’s daughter, but by her own merit — and also an apprentice healer… became pregnant.

It was a happy marriage. Soulmates — the kind of love we rarely witness.

Their baby girl was born. The young mother and her husband were overjoyed, in total bliss.

After some time, the young mother returned to helping her people.

She treated everyone with care, but her heart was fully dedicated to the children of the tribe.

Until tragedy struck.

Despite having predicted and prevented dozens — hundreds — of accidents, despite saving practically everyone in the tribe at least once…

She — who had seen so much — did not foresee what would happen to her own daughter.

The pain of that loss pushed her to the brink of death.

Truth is, a part of her did die.

Dakota buried her daughter… and with her, she buried part of her gifts.

She swore never to see again.

Never to perceive again.

Never to predict again.

And so it was.

Dead on the inside, she made her husband a widower in life.

The consequences of that tragedy echoed all the way up until very recently.

But oh, the irony of life…

Dakota survived.

She lived.

Some say she merely dragged herself to the end of her days — when she was, nonetheless, recognized as a wise woman by many.

In tough cases, they’d call on her.

And she would help.

She’d show up. She’d serve.

But always with a distant, vacant gaze.

Between lives, between comings and goings… the buried and cursed gift was always there.

It’s hard — near impossible — to silence, once and for all, a gift that comes from the spirit itself.

But only now… now Dakota is finally breaking free.

Cutting those energetic blockages, those chains and bindings from that time.

The energy has been cleared. The cords were cut.

And the gift — the gift will, little by little, settle in and harmonize itself again.

As for the trauma?

As for trusting herself?

Well… we’ll see.

That chapter is being lived now.

Grandfather Benedito (he insists) — Father Xande, I reply, and he smiles; his image flickers for my benefit ;) — says that just like when I see an object holding a spell and know it means the spell was broken and its power is gone… the same applies to this trauma, which is being worked on.

As for me… after everything I shouted at God today, I really hope it doesn’t take too long.

A little more stability in this whole process of breaking and letting a new woman be born… would make everything way smoother and easier.

Goodbye, dear readers.

That’s it for today.

See you around.

With love,

Dakota / Vanessa.