Good morning, and welcome back to Standing on the Ledge.
All you Ledgewalkers—rebuilders from the rubble—how are you doing this morning? I hope you’re doing fine.
Today feels like one of those “grant me the serenity and the wisdom to know the difference” kind of days. Because if I’m being honest: I’m angry. Angry enough that part of me wants to figuratively kick the crap out of somebody—not physically, not literally, but that kind of frustration where you can feel your patience scraping the bottom of the tank.
There’s one person in my life who keeps acting like they run the show.
They don’t.
I don’t know how or when, but someday it’s going to sink in: this is no longer your circus. And I’m done performing in it.
Now—does that rant belong in a post like this? Maybe not in its raw form. But I’m leaving the signal here, because anger is information. It’s the dashboard light. It’s the warning buzzer. It’s my nervous system saying: “Boundary breach. Pattern detected. Do something real.”
From Cure to Prevention
Yesterday, we talked a lot about what to do after a collapse—how to triage, stabilize, and rebuild with tools and protocols so we don’t make decisions from panic, shame, or shutdown.
But reality has a way of walking right into the room and reminding you: sometimes an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
So for the next little while, I want to lean into prevention—not because we can prevent everything, but because we can prevent some of it. We can catch patterns earlier. We can respond sooner. We can reduce the blast radius.
And this isn’t just about contracts, jobs, or houses. It applies everywhere.
The Hard Lesson of Warning Signs
I had a good friend who died by suicide. And after something like that, hindsight becomes a brutal companion. A thousand “coulda, woulda, shouldas.” A thousand “if I had have…”
And there’s the crux: if I had have known.
But sometimes the warning signs were there. Sometimes we didn’t know how to interpret them. Sometimes we didn’t know what to say. Sometimes we were scared of being wrong. Sometimes we were tired. Sometimes we assumed “they’ll be okay.”
Let me say this carefully: I’m not pointing blame at anyone. In a suicide situation, you can do everything “right” and still lose someone. You are not the sole decision-maker in someone else’s life.
But I also believe this: if we learn to recognize patterns sooner—if we learn to respond instead of freeze—we give ourselves a better chance to help in the moments where help is possible.
Today’s Thread: Confidence (Even If You Have to Borrow It)
So. Let’s shift gears.
Today’s astrology and message for Cancer—Thursday, February 5th—goes like this:
You may not feel very confident about a venture you are taking on, dear Moonchild, but if you pretend that you are, you might just fool everyone, including yourself. Confidence can be built through hard work and experience, and you have all of that already, even though you may not realize it. Think back and review, in your mind, all you have learned and accomplished in the related area, and recognize that you do have what you need to succeed, and then summon the confidence that is rightfully yours.
That line sticks: “confidence that is rightfully yours.”
Now, I said “fake it till you make it,” but that’s not quite what I mean—at least not the cheesy version of it.
What I mean is closer to this:
Act like the person you’re becoming—long enough for your brain and body to catch up.
Not lying. Not pretending you’re someone you’re not. Not performing for other people.
Just choosing one small, real action that matches the version of you that’s rebuilding.
The “As If” Move (A Micro-Protocol for Confidence)
When confidence is low, do this in under 10 minutes:
- Name what you’re doing.
“I’m borrowing confidence right now. I’ll earn it with action.” - List 3 receipts.
Three real things you’ve done before that prove you’re capable (even if they’re small). - Pick one measurable next step.
One email. One form. One call. One page. One task that moves the needle. - Timebox it.
Ten minutes. That’s it. Start messy. Finish imperfect. - Close with a boundary sentence.
“Today I move forward. I do not negotiate with chaos.”
This is how confidence actually grows—because confidence isn’t a mood. It’s a trail. It’s evidence.
Today’s Tarot Reading (Rider–Waite–Smith)
Quick note: yeah… we kind of blew past the 10-minute dictation limit today. So I’m anchoring the rest of this post with the tarot spread, because it lines up perfectly with the “prevention over cure” theme.
Deck used: Rider–Waite–Smith (RWS).
Why I keep stressing the Rider–Waite–Smith deck
Because tarot is a language—and the pictures are the vocabulary.
The Rider–Waite–Smith deck isn’t just “a” deck. It’s the most widely used modern reference point, and a huge amount of mainstream tarot teaching assumes RWS imagery by default. When I say “Five of Cups,” for example, I’m not talking about some abstract keyword list—I’m talking about that cloaked figure, those spilled cups, and the two still standing behind him.
And you’re dead right: you don’t take the meanings written for one symbolic system and slap them onto a different symbolic system like it’s interchangeable. Different decks emphasize different themes, use different visual cues, and sometimes even rewrite the “center of gravity” of a card.
So today, I’m using RWS-based divinatory meanings and RWS imagery cues—because that’s the deck we’re actually reading.
The spread
- Past: Five of Swords
- Present: Seven of Swords
- Future: Five of Cups
- Me (the querent): Nine of Wands
Past — Five of Swords
This is the “win the battle, lose the war” card. The RWS image is all aftermath: somebody standing there with the swords while others walk away defeated.
Divinatory, it points to conflict with consequences—ego, resentment, humiliation, scorched-earth arguments, and the bitter taste that lingers even if you “win.”
In plain language: a fight that cost more than it paid.
Present — Seven of Swords
Here’s the sneaking energy. The RWS image makes it obvious: a figure carrying swords away from the camp, looking over his shoulder like he knows he shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing.
Divinatory, it’s strategy, dodging, scheming, avoiding direct confrontation—sometimes cleverness, sometimes dishonesty, sometimes “I’m doing this my way and I’m not asking permission.”
It can show up as: someone trying to control the narrative, somebody operating indirectly, or me realizing that direct confrontation won’t fix a person committed to running a private little play behind the curtain.
Either way, the message is the same: don’t play checkers with someone playing chess. Change the board. Change the access. Change the rules.
Future — Five of Cups
This is the grief card—but with a catch. In the RWS image, three cups are spilled, and two are still standing behind the figure. The loss is real… but it’s not the whole story.
Divinatory, it’s disappointment, regret, and mourning what went wrong. Sometimes it’s the warning label that says: “If you let this keep draining you, you’ll miss what’s still intact.”
So I’m reading this as a prevention flag: do what you can now so the future doesn’t become a spiral of “I can’t believe I let this keep going.”
Me (Querent) — Nine of Wands
Wounded warrior energy.
The RWS figure looks battered, bandaged, and watchful—like he’s been hit before and he’s not interested in being surprised again.
Divinatory, it’s resilience, endurance, and boundaries. It’s “I’m tired, but I’m not done.”
It also warns about becoming so defensive that you burn yourself out—so the goal here is strong boundaries, not permanent siege mode.
What the spread is saying (all together)
The story arc is blunt:
- Five of Swords (Past): conflict and fallout.
- Seven of Swords (Present): indirect behavior, maneuvering, narrative control, avoidance.
- Five of Cups (Future): grief/regret if the pattern keeps running the show.
- Nine of Wands (Me): I’m still standing, but I need to hold the line intelligently.
And here’s the actionable translation:
Stop trying to “win” a person. Start protecting your perimeter.
Prevention over cure means: fewer arguments, more structure. Less explaining, more boundaries. Less reacting, more receipts.
The Fir Tree Reminder
The Fir doesn’t panic because it’s winter. It doesn’t argue with the season. It doesn’t try to bloom to prove it’s alive.
It stands. It keeps its needles. It holds its shape through the cold. It’s resilient without being loud about it.
That’s the lesson for me today:
Stand. Hold. Don’t perform. Don’t plead. Don’t explain yourself to someone committed to misunderstanding you.
A Word from the Hávamál
Wise in measure should each man be;
but let him not wax too wise.
In other words: don’t overthink yourself into paralysis. Don’t analyze the fire while the house fills with smoke. Do the next right thing, then do the next one after that.
Post-Closure Card
- 1 Receipt: ________________________________
- 1 Next Step: _____________________________
- 1 Boundary Sentence: ______________________
That’s enough for today. One step. One receipt. One boundary. Repeat.
Godspeed. Have a good day.
—Kevin McLaughlin / Lugh Sulian
If you or someone you know is in immediate danger or thinking about self-harm, please call your local emergency number. In Canada and the U.S., you can also call or text 988 for suicide and crisis support.
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