Wizard's Weekly Wrap-Up: Lame Duck, Quiet Piggy, Wicked Witch & Lord of the Lies
A Party Revolts, A President Unravels, and the World Tilts Off Its Axis: The Week That Was November 16-22, 2025
This week, the centre didn’t just fail to hold - it spun, sparked, glitched, and hurled us into a technicolor fever dream where the impossible kept happening before breakfast, masks slipped, alliances snapped, institutions short-circuited, and the whole planet acted like someone hit “shuffle” on the apocalypse.
This week, Republicans in both the House and Senate broke ranks with Trump, joining Democrats to pass a bill demanding the release of the Epstein files, officially making Trump now a lame-duck president and giving him just thirty days, until 19 December, to figure out how to dodge a law with his name stamped on the front.
Right on cue, a perfectly timed distraction appeared: the House Oversight Committee subpoenaed Bill and Hillary Clinton to testify on 17 and 18 December about their Epstein ties. For what it’s worth, though - 19 December also happens to be the day interstellar comet 3I/ATLAS swings closest to Earth. Cosmic timing loves a bit of drama, and this one looks set to be a truth bomb.
Trump went about the rest of his week operating like a deranged madman, delivering a rambling monologue about washing his hair at the McDonald’s Impact Summit, threatening (again) to yank ABC’s broadcast license, being photographed returning to the White House with the American flag flailing on the ground, and later shuffling into the Oval Office hoarse, explaining he’d lost his voice from “shouting at people. I blew my stack.”
Trump refused to sign any bill from Capitol Hill renewing health-care tax credits, effectively greenlighting premium hikes for millions in 2026; his spokesperson, Karoline Leavitt, insisted he was merely being “frank and honest” when he called a reporter “Piggy,” and, after Trump threatened to bomb Mexico, American troops “accidentally” stormed a beach twelve miles inside the country, sparking a major diplomatic crisis.
Asked by reporters about the latest news on his pal Jair Bolsonaro - the former Brazilian president - Trump insisted he’d “just spoken” to him the night before and that the two would be “meeting in the very near future,” which was a sweet fantasy, given the fact Bolsonaro was sitting in a jail cell, having been arrested for allegedly plotting to flee rather than begin his 27-year sentence for leading a coup attempt after his 2022 defeat. Trump’s addled imagination strikes again - unless, of course, he plans to meet him in the cell.
After months of accusing Democrats of stoking political violence, Trump demanded the execution of six members of Congress for releasing a video reminding the military they can refuse illegal orders. Democrats immediately called the outburst impeachable, while Trump’s loyalists scrambled to rewrite reality, insisting he’s never issued an illegal order - an argument that didn’t survive contact with the courts. One federal judge, just this week, ruled his deployment of the National Guard to D.C. was not lawful.
Seemingly on the happy pills now, Trump welcomed his sworn enemy - New York’s Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani - into the Oval Office, not to berate him but to gush over his socialist housing and crime policies. Melting into a puddle of adoration, Trump insisted they were totally aligned, and even said it was fine if Mamdani called him a fascist. One short meeting and Trump was basically signing up for the Democratic Socialists of America, sending Republicans across the country into a full-body panic, especially after they’d just rushed a symbolic bill through the House condemning Socialism.
Trump also chummed it up in the Oval this week with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman - the man U.S. officials say ordered the murder and dismemberment of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi in 2018. Trump claimed MBS was investing $1 trillion in the U.S., a cute trick given Saudi Arabia’s entire GDP is only slightly higher. When reporters pressed him about Khashoggi’s killing, Trump defended MBS, suggested Khashoggi may have deserved it, and scolded the reporter for being rude to his guest. He was more outraged by the question than by the grizzly murder.
Meanwhile, Representative Eugene Vindman - who served on Trump’s National Security Council during his first term - confirmed there’s an unreleased 2019 Trump–MBS phone call tied to the Khashoggi fallout, and said that the contents are “shocking” and should be released immediately. The stars have a lot to say on this one. Pass the popcorn because the coming Gemini Full Moon is about to reveal all and it ain’t gonna be pretty. Trump would be right to be very, very concerned. No wonder he rolled out the red carpet and the marching band for MBS.
As Israel bombed Gaza yet again - so much for that “peace deal” - and Russia struck Ukraine once more, killing 26 people including three children, Trump rolled out a so-called 28-point peace plan that turned out not to be American at all. As senators at the Halifax forum quietly confirmed, even Trump’s own Secretary of State, Marco Rubio, admitted he had zero involvement the document was effectively a Russian wish list, passed to Trump’s camp through a Kremlin-linked intermediary and laundered out through Axios.
Trump then tried to bully Zelenskyy into accepting it, threatening to cut off weapons and intelligence if Ukraine didn’t submit, to which Zelenskyy promptly told him where he could file his plan. Meanwhile, Americans poured into Washington by the thousands for a “Remove the Regime” rally, calling for Trump to be impeached, convicted and removed and sending the message that the country isn’t buying the fantasy, and the pressure cooker is about to blow.
As the U.S. unemployment rate ticked up to 4.4% in October, Howard Lutnick promised that next year’s jobs numbers would “blow you away” - yeah, just like Trump’s been blowing away random boats in the Caribbean - and a bombshell courtroom admission nearly torpedoed the Trump DOJ’s case against former FBI director and Trump enemy James Comey, after prosecutors conceded that the full grand jury never actually reviewed the final indictment - only the foreperson did - and that revelation threw the entire prosecution into chaos.
Meanwhile, a federal judge blocked Texas’s aggressively gerrymandered election maps, which would have handed Republicans five new midterm seats, ruling them unconstitutional. California’s new maps - which give Democrats five additional seats - remain untouched, because they were approved legally through an election rather than rammed through a partisan legislature, though by close of week, the Supreme Court blocked the ruling invalidating Texas’ new maps, so who knows where to from here.
Former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers announced he’s stepping back from public life after Democratic lawmakers exposed his deep ties to Jeffrey Epstein, while Marjorie Taylor Greene announced she’s quitting Congress just days after she went on CNN apologising for fuelling America’s divisions. Her resignation letter was pure scorched earth - a blistering indictment of Trump, Republicans, and a government she declared broken beyond repair - though the timing raised eyebrows on both sides of the aisle, coming just days after her pension kicks in, and leaving Republicans with an increasingly razor thin House majority.
In a completely different corner of the circus, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was accused of writing some seriously smutty poetry and declared he wants to ban pharmaceutical ads on TV. Reports surfaced that the White House intervened to help alleged sex trafficker Andrew Tate during a federal investigation, and Republican Andrew Clyde argued on the House floor that it was inappropriate to call the president a felon, despite the fact that he is one.
And in the background of all this chaos, we learned that some of the loudest MAGA social media accounts shaping the online narrative aren’t even American, with many accounts Elon Musk’s platform has been amplifying to millions found to be being run out of places like Macedonia, Russia, Bangladesh and Indonesia. Apparently nothing says “America First” like outsourcing your propaganda.
A Cloudflare meltdown briefly erased half the internet, Nancy Mace announced she has no friends, Keith Urban randomly appeared at Mar-a-Lago crooning “Pink Pony Club,” Laura Loomer casually admitted the GOP has a Nazi problem while Chuck Schumer pushed through a Senate resolution denouncing Nick Fuentes and his white-supremacist garbage, and the U.S. Coast Guard quietly announced it would no longer classify the swastika as a hate symbol, only to panic and reverse course when the public understandably lost its collective mind.
The U.S. Capitol briefly caught fire, as did the COP30 venue in Brazil and a cargo ship in Los Angeles, Nancy Pelosi declared that “President Trump is the biggest con job in American history,” Australia, Canada and India announced a new tri-lateral partnership after being abandoned by the U.S., and Dick Cheney was laid to rest in a ceremony attended by every living former Republican president and every living former Vice President…..except Trump and Vance, who didn’t make the guest list.
In Nigeria, gunmen stormed a Catholic boarding school and abducted more than 300 children and teachers in one of the country’s largest mass kidnappings in years, continuing a brutal surge in ransom-driven abductions that has left entire regions too terrified to send their kids to school.
In Bangladesh, a court sentenced former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to death for unleashing state violence on student protesters in 2024, when her government deployed drones and helicopters against teenagers, killing roughly 1,400 of them.
And across the globe, the internet lit up with people brawling over whether the new Wicked movie is a sequel, a Part Two, both, neither, or any good at all, proving that even at the end of the world, there’s still time to argue about Broadway like it matters.
As usual, I’ve checked the stars and mapped the frequencies, because right now reality genuinely seems to be coming apart at the seams. This week didn’t just escalate; it bent the laws of plausibility. It felt like someone bumped the simulation, like we all got swept up in a cosmic twister. One moment we were standing in the familiar dust of Kansas, and the next we were slammed down in a land where the impossible keeps happening before breakfast. In just seven days, the world has turned technicolor and unhinged, with events so bizarre they’d be laughed out of even the worst writer’s room. Reality isn’t just wobbling - right now, it’s spinning.
This moment is the prelude to next February’s reality reset when Saturn meets Neptune in Aries, the pressure point where the winds pick up, the house lifts, and truth claws its way out of the floorboards as the old world starts coughing up its secrets. We’re being pulled over the rainbow into the territory where illusions collapse and nothing stays politely tethered to the old rules.
If you want to understand what’s actually happening beneath the swirl, what these tornado-level reveals are pointing toward, and how to stay steady while the ground rearranges itself under your feet, then read on, dear friend.
Let’s make some meaning from the madness and chart the way forward.
**The cosmic insights shared here are mapped to the real movements of the heavens during the past week. If you want to know more about planetary pattern recognition, read about it here**
👑 The King’s Court Collapses
The events that unfolded in the United States this week were unimaginable even seven days ago. After months of dutiful silence enabling Trump’s every unhinged impulse, Republicans finally stood up to America’s wannabe king.
These are the same Republicans who didn’t flinch when he sent troops into American cities, or when he bombed boats in the Caribbean, killing more than 80 people in defiance of international law. They stayed quiet when ICE rounded up civilians and dumped them in El Salvador like it was rubbish collection day. They looked away when he stripped healthcare and food stamps from millions. They shrugged when he demolished the East Wing, fundraised for his new ballroom like a cartoon mob boss, and launched his blatantly corrupt Bitcoin scheme.
For nearly a year they’ve been silent, spineless, and fully complicit as Trump dismantled America brick by brick. After months of letting Trump and his loyalists engineer a government shutdown to keep the House closed - blocking newly-elected Democrat Adelita Grijalva from being sworn in so she couldn’t sign the petition forcing a vote on the Epstein files - the political winds suddenly shifted. The dam cracked, at last.
When the 43-day shutdown finally ended, Speaker Mike Johnson had no choice but to swear in Grijalva, who signed the Epstein petition instantly, triggering the House vote. While critics warned the vote would be unlikely to trigger any real disclosure because the bill would still need to clear the House, the Senate, and then get signed by President Trump - the very person who was withholding the files in the first place - something unexpected happened.
Washington’s mood quietly shifted.
A wave of Republicans who had refused to sign the original petition began signalling they would vote for the bill once it hit the floor. Thomas Massie and Ro Khanna - who drafted the petition - suddenly looked optimistic. Massie even suggested that 100 or more House Republicans could break with Trump, despite the fact that Trump had just hauled the few who did sign the petition into the White House to berate them.
One hundred Republicans breaking with Trump has never happened - it’s unheard of in the MAGA era. Even when he was impeached for inciting an insurrection, only ten Republicans voted against him. For a decade, Trump has ruled the GOP with an iron fist, but all of a sudden Republicans appear to have finally rediscovered their spines, and the shift was so jarring it even knocked Trump off balance.
🐷 Quiet Piggy
By the end of last week, as whispers grew that Republicans were preparing to break with Trump and vote to release the Epstein files, Trump’s mask finally slipped mid-flight on Air Force One as he started to panic.
“Mr. President, what did Jeffrey Epstein mean in his emails when he said you knew about ‘the girls?’” a Bloomberg reporter asked as the plane travelled from Washington to Mar-a-Lago. Trump brushed it off with a quick, “I know nothing about that,” and tried to move on, but she pressed him.
“If there’s nothing incriminating in the files, sir, why not….”
“Quiet. Quiet, piggy,” Trump snapped, jabbing his finger at her as he barked.
The clip detonated across global media, and within hours the whole world was up in arms about the misogyny, the childish cruelty, and the bizarre choice of insult, but beneath it all was something older, darker, and far more revealing: a glimpse into Trump’s collapsing psyche as he faced the first serious revolt of his political life.
In William Golding’s Noble Prize winning novel, Lord of the Flies, Piggy is the asthmatic, bespectacled boy who embodies reason, conscience, and civilisation - the lone voice insisting on rules and sanity as the island descends into chaos. He’s the moral anchor the mob destroys the moment they cross the point of no return. Piggy isn’t just a character; he is civilisation itself, murdered so the boys can surrender to the frenzy.
Published in 1954, the book became standard curriculum across American schools in the ’60s - exactly when Trump was a teenager at the New York Military Academy, a place obsessed with hierarchy, discipline, and cautionary tales like Lord of the Flies about what happens when order collapses. It would have been required reading, but whether Trump actually read it or not, who can say, but he would, at the very least, have absorbed it as part of class discussions. Stories like that live in the cultural basement of the mind, the same way everyone knows who Gollum is, or Mr Darcy, or Voldemort, without ever cracking the book.
When he used the word “piggy” to chastise that report this week, Trump was a man cornered, declining mentally, rummaging through the junk drawer of his subconscious, firing off old scraps from childhood: half-remembered phrases, schoolyard dynamics, cultural debris. It wasn’t wit or strategy. It was a reflex from a fraying mind. The insult was an accidental confession - casting the reporter as both a meddling muppet and the voice of reason standing between him and total moral freefall.
By calling her “piggy,” intentionally or not, Trump echoed the moment in Lord of the Flies when truth and conscience stop mattering, and when silencing the truth-teller becomes the next step in maintaining power. It wasn’t just an insult; it was a tell. A crack in the mask. A glimpse of where he sees himself in the story, and how far he’s willing to go.
In the novel, calling someone “Piggy” is prelude to sacrifice. Piggy is killed not because he’s weak, but because he prevents the boys from descending into savagery. He demands accountability. He speaks reality out loud. And when a leader wants absolute power, the first target is always the truth-teller, or the institution that represents them.
That’s what Trump revealed in that split second. Not just cruelty or misogyny, but intent. He signalled he no longer recognises the line between civilisation and the chaos he thrives on. He’s creeping right up to the threshold where dissent becomes an enemy and reality becomes something to destroy.
Calling a reporter “piggy” wasn’t a slip. It was a test. A signal to the crowd. A probe to see who cheers and who flinches.
Because in Lord of the Flies, once the boys kill Piggy, there’s no turning back. It’s the instant the final light of reason goes out. And Trump telegraphed he was circling that exact moment - if he hasn’t crossed it already - watching how far he can push his followers, measuring their readiness to abandon the last restraints of civil behaviour.
The insult wasn’t the danger. The implication was. Every descent begins with a leader telling the truth-teller to be quiet. And as this week dawned, one thing became unmistakably clear: the crowd wasn’t listening to Trump anymore.
🌪️ The Tide Turns
Sensing that his own party was about to abandon him, Trump panic-tweeted a sudden reversal, urging House Republicans to vote to release the Epstein files - the same files he’d spent months trying to bury.
“House Republicans should vote to release the Epstein files, because we have nothing to hide…” he posted, wrapped in his usual barrage of grievance and blame. It was pure damage control - a frantic attempt to get out in front of a wave already crashing over him. As the old saying goes, when you’re being run out of town, jump in front of the mob and call it a parade.
This wasn’t Trump leading. This was Trump scrambling. For the first time in years, he wasn’t dictating the movement of the GOP; he was chasing it, trying to pretend he wanted the transparency he’d been fighting with every tool he had. The only reason there was a petition, and a House vote, was because his administration had refused to release the files voluntarily. If Trump actually wanted them unsealed, he could have released them himself with the stroke of a pen.
His hastily slapped-together back-up plan - such as it was - seemed obvious enough: let the bill pass the House, then quietly strangle it in the Senate. The old two-step.
But that plan died instantly.
When the House finally voted on the Epstein Files Transparency Act, it passed 427–1. One Republican in opposition. Five abstained. That’s it. A near-unanimous vote in the most dysfunctional, petty, gridlocked Congress in modern memory.
Then it hit the Senate, and things got surreal. The bill sailed through with unanimous consent. No amendments or poison pills. No performative filibusters. Not even a single objection from the chaos merchants who normally light themselves on fire for attention. Just a clean, silent, unanimous yes.
The shock slammed the White House like a fire alarm. Loyalty - the currency Trump has relied on more than rage, or fear, or the threat of retribution - evaporated in real time. The same Republicans who once bent the knee at the slightest twitch of his eyebrow had just marched him straight into the line of fire.
Mike Johnson looked like a ghost in the Capitol corridors, mumbling concerns that the bill passed “without amendments,” clearly blindsided. This wasn’t the plan. This was the bottom falling out.
For the first time in his political life, Trump wasn’t leading a charge; he was sprinting behind the herd, desperate not to be trampled. It wasn’t strategy or strength, but a man losing control and trying to pretend he hadn’t.
And that was the moment he began to unravel.
Because as the House and Senate moved in ways he couldn’t predict or control, Trump did what he always does when cornered: he lashed out. But this time the spiral wasn’t theatrical - it was raw, instinctual, and unmistakably unhinged.
🔥 Wagging the Dog
Having lost control of his party and facing the imminent release of files he’d spent years trying to outrun, Trump did what demagogues always do when their grip on power starts slipping: he reached straight for violence.
He’s been flirting with violence since day one. When he descended that golden escalator in 2015 and bragged he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue without losing support, he wasn’t joking - he was diagnosing his followers, and he was right. When he incited an insurrection in 2021, his base didn’t recoil; they doubled down. When he returned to power this year, the rhetoric didn’t stay rhetorical. He sent troops into American streets. He unleashed ICE agents to beat and detain civilians. And in the Caribbean, more than 80 people have been killed under his watch - deaths with no legitimate legal justification, just the whims of a man testing how far he can push the world before someone tells him no.
Then, in recent days, he escalated again, saying he’d be “okay” with launching military strikes inside Mexico to “deal with the cartels.” Mexico’s president had to respond publicly, calling it what it was: an unacceptable breach of sovereignty. But almost immediately, Trump’s war talk translated into action - intentional or not - when a team of U.S. Defense Department contractors “accidentally” landed on a beach in Mexico, apparently believing they were still inside the United States. They hammered official-looking signs into the sand declaring the area “Department of Defense Property” and “National Defense Area III.”
But Playa Bagdad is not ambiguous terrain. It sits twelve miles inside Mexico. So when the Mexican Navy showed up, ripped the signs out of the ground, and asked what in God’s name these men were doing, the Pentagon was forced to admit the obvious: the contractors were meant to install signage on the U.S. side and somehow couldn’t read a map.
In any other administration, this would have been an international embarrassment and a diplomatic crisis. Under Trump - with months of unlawful killings at sea and escalating threats of war against foreign nations - it was something far darker, and far more dangerous.
⚔️ Death to the Defectors
In the midst of escalating saber-rattling from the administration - and months of war-like actions with zero congressional approval - a group of six Democratic lawmakers, all with military or intelligence backgrounds, released a short video reminding U.S. service members of a basic principle: they do not have to obey unlawful orders. They didn’t accuse the administration of issuing any, but they warned that the President was “pitting the military and intelligence community against American citizens,” and that troops are legally required to refuse anything that violates the Constitution.
And they were right. Under U.S. military law, service members must obey lawful orders - and can be prosecuted for carrying out illegal ones. It wasn’t radical or even provocative. It was a constitutional refresher, blunt but textbook.
Trump, however, detonated. He went online accusing the lawmakers of “seditious behavior, punishable by death,” calling them traitors and demanding their arrest. A routine civics reminder instantly became a national crisis. Presidents simply do not accuse sitting members of Congress of sedition, let alone hint at capital punishment. It was a line no modern president has ever crossed.
The moment cracked open one of the most dangerous fault lines in American political life: elected officials warning troops to think carefully about the legality of orders, and the Commander-in-Chief framing that warning as treason. Senator Chris Murphy didn’t dance around it. He posted a furious video saying, “The President of the United States just called for Democratic members of Congress to be executed…..If you’re a person of influence in this country and you haven’t picked a side, maybe now would be the time to pick a f**king side.”
It couldn’t be more Lord of the Flies if William Golding rose from the grave to script it himself. A sitting president openly flirting with political executions, and a senator announcing the end of neutrality. This was the point in the story where the conch stops working and the knives come out.
We’re all the boys on the beach now- some of us desperately trying to keep the signal fire burning, clinging to conscience and structure, while others slip into the frenzy, chanting for blood because their fear is louder than their reason.
That’s the danger of this moment: a country regressing into a story we all read in school, where the line between order and chaos isn’t a policy debate but a trembling choice between conscience and the mob.
We’ve stepped fully into our own Lord of the Flies moment, and Trump is the one clutching the conch - shouting down the truth-tellers as if silencing them might hold the island together for one more hour. Underneath the bluster, he’s gripping it like a man who knows it’s the last thing standing between him and the reckoning coming up the beach.
🌀 A Dark System
But the thing about the conch is that it only has power if everyone agrees to play by the island’s rules. Right now, the danger isn’t that Trump has the conch - it’s how quickly an entire nation can be pulled into his darkness unless we deliberately choose another path.
We’re watching a man in freefall clutch the last fragment of symbolic authority as if it might save him, but the real test now isn’t him - it’s us. How do we hold our light when the person holding the conch has dropped his? How do we respond to lawlessness without becoming part of it?
What do we do when those in power abandon the law?
When the people entrusted with the light start walking proudly into the dark?
Do we follow them?
Do we step into lawlessness to fix lawlessness?
Do we meet might with might and convince ourselves it’s justice?
This is the trap baked into our entire system - the ancient eye-for-an-eye reflex. You hit me, so I hit back harder. You take from me, so something must be taken from you. You blow out your light, so I blow out mine to meet you in the dark.
The Western justice system is built on that architecture. When people descend into darkness, our institutions don’t ask where the soul went wrong or how to guide it back into the light. They don’t seek restoration - only retribution. We punish symptoms while the wound festers. We treat the darkness by adding more darkness and call it balance.
And this isn’t just an American sickness - it’s global. Look at Bangladesh this week, where former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina was sentenced to death for the violence she unleashed on student protesters in 2024. Her government used drones and helicopters on teenagers; around 1,400 were killed. It was monstrous, but the system’s answer was as primitive as it gets: she tried to kill us, so we will kill her. Case closed.
Except it’s never closed. It never ends the way people pretend it does.
This is the loop humanity keeps replaying: the belief that darkness can be cured by administering more darkness. And you can see it now in the reaction to Trump. Social media is full of people gleefully speculating about his death, fantasising about the grisliest possible ending, as if the brutality he has unleashed somehow grants the rest of us a moral permission slip to revel in his destruction.
Yes, Trump is a deplorable human being, but what does that make us if we mirror his depravity? What does it make us if, in trying to deal with him, we become him?
And the same question applies to his followers - the ones who returned him to power and whose choices unleashed the horrors playing out now. Accountability is one thing; dehumanisation is another. And across the world, on both the left and the right, people are reaching for the fantasy that the only solution is the extermination of opposing voices.
And is it any wonder? We’ve been fed that story as a virtue for generations - wrapped in myth, fairy tale, hero’s journey, and Hollywood narrative, training us to believe that obliterating the “villain” is the highest form of justice.
🧙♀️ Ding, Dong the Witch is Dead
In America’s favourite homegrown fairytale, The Wizard of Oz, a little girl is literally sent on a mission to kill a woman and steal her broomstick - and when she succeeds, she’s not framed as a child assassin, but a conquering hero.
The crowd cheers as the Witch melts, even though nothing in the story suggests the Witch was half as monstrous as Dorothy, who killed her sister - yes, accidentally, but still killed her - and then stole the dead woman’s shoes, then didn’t bat an eyelid when when the Wizard told her to carry out another killing for him, then merrily skipped off down the Yellow Brick Road to do the deed before returning triumphant, bucket in hand, celebrated as the saviour of Oz.
We were raised on this stuff, on the idea that good people doing bad things to bad people somehow transforms the bad thing into a good thing. It was propaganda wrapped in Technicolor - a story designed to teach us that dimming your own light to extinguish someone else’s is somehow the path to a brighter day. But that’s not how light works. All that does is make the darkness darker.
That’s the logic that’s been used to justify some of the worst horrors in human history.
It’s the thinking that validated the incineration of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The thinking that made the execution of Osama bin Laden and the hanging of Saddam Hussein feel righteous instead of complicated and tragic. The thinking that fuelled the Vietnam War, the Iraq War, the drone wars, the torture programs, the “collateral damage” we pretended not to see. The thinking that excused the CIA’s black sites, Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, and every time a government shrugged and said, “We had no choice.”
It’s the same spell that makes people cheer when a perceived enemy is crushed, even if the method of crushing violates every value they claim to defend.
We’ve been trained since childhood to believe that darkness can be defeated by using its tools, but we never stopped to ask why the world keeps getting darker, or who we become when we celebrate witch-melting as moral clarity.
🕊️ The Goodness of Gandhi
But while our myths have trained us to believe that the only answer to darkness is more darkness, history has given us a few rare souls to learn from who walked straight into brutality and refused to let it turn them into the thing they were facing.
Gandhi understood the trap we keep falling into. Empire beat him, jailed him, broke his body, mocked his humanity, and he still refused to answer violence with violence, not because he was weak, and not because he was naive, but because he understood a truth most people realise too late: the moment you join your oppressor in the dark, you’ve already lost. The light isn’t just a moral stance; it’s a strategy. A force-field. A refusal to let someone else decide the condition of your soul.
That’s the part we forget.
We talk about Gandhi like he was gentle, but he wasn’t gentle. He was immovable. A man who looked the British Empire in the eye - a machine built entirely on domination - and refused to drop his light even for a second. That was his power. That was the revolution. He never let them dictate who he became in the process of resisting them.
There is an alternative to becoming what we fight. There is a way to confront lawlessness without surrendering your own centre of gravity. It’s the path of people who refuse to believe that justice requires them to snuff out the very flame they’re trying to protect.
Gandhi showed that holding the light is not passivity - it’s defiance. It is the slow, relentless, disarming pressure of a soul that refuses to be dragged into the pit. It turns out the strongest force on earth isn’t rage or might. It’s the human being who refuses to hand their integrity to someone who has forfeited theirs.
And that’s the choice in front of us now. Not whether Trump descends - he already has - but whether we follow him into the tunnel because we’re too exhausted or furious to remember that there is another way to stand.
🌞 Lords of the Light
We have reached the moment where our society tests not its laws, but its soul.
How do we respond to people who snuff out their light?
How do we respond to those who choose to dance in the dark?
Do we dim our own light to go deal with them in the darkness?
Do we harden, rage, or descend, just because they already have?
Somewhere - as individuals, as a nation, as a species - we have to decide that protecting our own inner light matters more than punishing someone for dimming theirs. Anything that demands you extinguish your light in order to “win” is a trap. Anything that requires you to become what you’re fighting is corruption wearing moral clothing.
The path out of the dark is not more darkness.
It’s light.
Always light.
Right now, the world is giving each of us the perfect excuse to harden, to hate, to turn off the very light we’re meant to carry, but the only thing that’s really going to save us, individually or collectively, is the stubborn refusal to step into the dark just because the people in charge already have.
That’s the real lesson we forget at the end of Lord of the Flies. The boys don’t save themselves by overpowering the mob or out-violencing the violent. The story doesn’t resolve because someone wins the fight. It resolves because a grown man - a figure of calm, order and conscience - walks out of the smoke and onto the beach still holding the light they abandoned. Salvation comes not from matching darkness, but from someone who refuses to join it.
That’s the invitation of this moment. Not to overpower the frenzy, but to outshine it.
Not to descend into the madness, but to be the person who steps onto the beach holding the light steady enough for others to remember what it looks like.
🌒 The End of Darkness
Right now, the sky is constantly reminding us why everything feels like it’s coming to a head.
In less than two weeks, the Gemini Full Moon will rise, and it will hit the charts of all those who’ve got secrets they were hoping to keep buried, none more significantly than Donald Trump. His chart is devastated by this lunation that governs recordings, leaks, tapes, evidence, and words no-one was ever meant to hear. The chart of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman take a beating under this moon too, while murdered journalist Jamal Khashoggi’s shines like a beacon. Putin, Netanyahu, Epstein, and Ghislaine Maxwell all light up like an electrical fault. The truth is about to walk out into the daylight, and Trump more than anyone should be very, very concerned. He’s approaching the end of his power, and they days ahead will not be kind.
Beyond that lies the Saturn–Neptune meeting in early Aries next February, the first spark of the Genesis Reset. This is the cosmic ignition point that dissolves illusion on a planetary scale, not gently but with a white-hot honesty that leaves no shadow untouched. You can already feel the pressure building. Even the Sun has begun flaring like it remembers its ancient job: to expose, to illuminate, to scorch away the rot. Everything hidden is being dragged into the light, not to punish us but to show us the truth of what we built.
And the truth is that our system has been running on darkness for a very long time. Cruelty papered over with patriotism, injustice wrapped in the language of order, an entire architecture that pretended to be fair and balanced while quietly protecting the powerful at the expense of everyone else.
The light hitting us now isn’t punishment. It’s a reckoning.
Those who snuffed out their light may have prospered in the Age of Darkness, but that age is now ending, and they will not be the ones who thrive in the days ahead. Right now, those who made their home in darkness are being exposed faster than they can spin. Those who cling to lies are watching them collapse in their hands. Those who built identities on domination, deception, and fear are discovering that the light doesn’t negotiate - it just shines a light on everything that’s been able to hide in the shadows.
The coming weeks, months and years will bring an unravelling of the power that has thrived in the dark for decades. As the world floods with light, what was done in shadow will be dragged into full view, and the picture will be truly grotesque. Leaders will be exposed. Governments unmoored. Systems that relied on secrecy will dissolve as truths they were never designed to withstand are ripped into daylight.
Yes, the Epstein files - whatever remains of them - and yes the truth about whatever went on between Trump and MBS and the brutal murder of Khashoggi, but it’s bigger than any document dump or a salacious segment on 60 Minutes. What’s coming is the revelation of the full depravity we’ve all quietly tolerated, the things we’ve sleepwalked past because illusion made it easier.
We’ve been wandering in our own Emerald City, wearing the green spectacles the Wizard demanded so we’d never realise the place wasn’t really made of emeralds at all. It was a con - a trick of the light.
The glasses are coming off now, and we are finally seeing what has been hiding behind the curtain.
💡 Not the Vessel, But the Source
We stand now where the boys once stood, on the beach, at the threshold, deciding whether we kill Piggy or listen to him. Do we silence the conscience or let it speak? Do we protect the fragile ember of order or crush it because fear feels easier than truth?
We’re all Dorothy standing with the bucket of water in our hands, deciding what to do with it. Do we hurl it at the dark in a moment of fearful fury, singing “ding dong” as it dissolves, convincing ourselves that darkness justifies our own? Or do we recognise the trap - that throwing the water might extinguish our own light in the process?
This is the crossroads; the moment the universe has engineered with surgical precision.
When the light rises, the test isn’t whether the wicked are exposed - they always are - it’s whether we stay luminous while it happens. Whether we refuse the temptation to mirror the cruelty we’re finally seeing clearly. Whether we remain the grown-up who steps onto the beach holding the structure the children abandoned, or whether we let fear drag us into the frenzy because the frenzy feels like action.
The light we must protect right now isn’t symbolic.
It’s not our personality or our moral compass.
It’s not optimism or “being a good person.”
It’s not thinking happy thoughts.
Our light is the living imprint of Source inside each of us - the spark of the divine wearing this human costume. It’s the knowing that we are spirit come to dance in the flesh, we are divinity cloaked in humanity, the infinite dressed as the finite.
Our physical bodies are lamps plugged into a socket- vessels, not power sources. Unplug the lamp and it becomes a shell: dim, empty and unable to perform its purpose. But the electricity doesn’t diminish. It waits and it moves and it flows into whatever is ready to carry it.
We mistake ourselves for the lamp, when in truth we are the electricity running through it that cannot be harmed, or destroyed, or dimmed by anything external. The vessel can crack, fade, or fail, but the current never does. It simply seeks a new form to shine through.
When we identify with the vessel instead of the current, fear takes the wheel, and fear’s first trick is always the same: it makes us forget. Forget that we’re not the body, but the consciousness animating it. That harm may touch the vessel, but never the essence. That darkness is not a force, but an absence that only grows through disconnection from ultimate truth.
We buy into the illusion, we unplug, we untether ourselves from the source of our real power, and run off into the dark like a diver trying to reach the seabed without oxygen. That’s no way to go about things. That’s no way to stand in power. That’s no way to address the darkness.
Holding the light is not a moral stance.
It is remembrance.
Tending the light is not about goodness.
It is staying plugged in to the truth of our origin.
Our light is the piece of God we’re carrying.
And remembering that is what keeps it burning.
✨ Keepers of the Light
The sky right now is asking us to remember - to see, and to choose, and to decide what kind of light we will be when the curtain falls and the truth stands there naked, unprotected, and undeniable.
Right now, this world we inhabit is filling with light, the curtain is falling, and every false structure that relied on darkness is shaking like it knows its time is up. We’re living through the moment every myth warns about - the hour when truth steps out of the forest and everyone has to choose whether they meet it with open eyes or sharpened spears.
What happens next is not decided by the people who have already stepped into the dark, but by those of us still holding the light, still tethered, still plugged into our power, still standing steadfast and refusing to descend.
The choice in front of every one of us right now is do we join the frenzy, and turn off our light just to ensure someone else’s darkness dies?
Or do we become the grown-up on the beach - the calm presence who refuses to participate in the madness? The one who remembers that the conch only has power because the terrified boys agreed it did? The one who understands that the real revolution is refusing to descend? Refusing to buy into the illusion. Refusing to unplug from the truth of who we are in order to fight a lie in the dark.
History doesn’t turn because the wicked are punished.
It turns because we refuse to abandon the light.
We decide that conscience still matters.
We decide not to kill Piggy.
That’s what this moment demands of us - not fear-disguised-as-rage, but the kind of fire that comes from clarity. The kind that isn’t lashing out because it’s terrified, but standing firm because it’s plugged in. Not the cheap thrill of “finally they get what’s coming,” but the deeper force of courage, discernment, and luminous defiance. A refusal to let darkness decide the kind of people we become.
The next months will strip the world to its bones - every deception, every hidden corridor, every power structure that relied on darkness. What’s coming is the revelation of centuries worth of shadows, and none of us get to look away anymore. But inside all the upheaval lies a universal promise:
Those who maintain their light will rise from the wreckage.
Those who keep their hearts open will be the ones reborn from the ash.
Those who refuse to become what they’re fighting will be the architects of the world that comes after the curtain falls.
Because when the light finally floods the island, the boys stop the violence not because the wicked are defeated, but because someone showed up holding the light they thought was lost.
And that, right now, is us.
We are the keepers of the light.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for in the dark.
We are what chases away the shadows - not by fighting them, but by tending our connection to Source until forgetting becomes impossible. Not through force, but through the simple, stubborn act of staying luminous.
The world is begging for a fight, but what we need right now is to shine. The night is thick out there. More shadows won’t save us. Only light will - and the courage to stay plugged in.
See you next Sunday, friends. Until then, stay kind, stay fierce, and stay human.
PS: - If you want support letting what’s falling fall, come join me in the Daily Lighthouse. I’ll be there, each day with you, or if you prefer it in an audio listening format, head over to the Resonance Room
All of your postings are magnificent, but this one resonated intensely! I wrote myself a note about a month ago:
I remember the lightening bugs on summers night. The magic of flickering lights in the dark. We are lightening bugs of magic for the future. Shine bright and connect with other beings of light to share the magic of innocence, love and joy.
My favorite: Our light is the piece of God we're carrying. And remembering that is what keeps it burning. Stunningly beautiful and so true. Thank you once again for your light.