Understanding the Hidden Costs of Fame and Fortune

Personal log

Good morning. Today is Tuesday, February 10, rapidly approaching Valentine’s Day—Lupercalia to some. This one goes into my private, personal notes.

Today’s astrology

Having fame and fortune can be very seductive and incredibly appealing from a distance. In fact, there are many people who pine for these statuses throughout their lives. However, there are certainly downsides to both, such as being wanted for what you have and the complete lack of privacy everywhere you go. You may want something now that has a downside that you have not considered. Before you move forward in your pursuit, think about it more realistically. If you still think it’s worth it, then you can go forward, being well informed.

The first thing I can actually relate to here is the direction I’ve been taking with the blog—and the quiet reason I’ve been leaning into Lugh Sulian as a divider: a way to separate public-facing life from private life.

Not because I’m chasing “fame,” but because the moment your story becomes legible to strangers, you start paying a tax you didn’t agree to: assumptions, projections, and people feeling entitled to parts of you they didn’t earn.

So today’s question isn’t “Do I want visibility?”

It’s: What will I trade for it without noticing?

The tree theme (Fir)

The Fir stays green when everything else looks dead. It doesn’t ask permission from winter. It endures.

That’s the lesson I’m taking today: keep what is living in me protected—not hidden out of shame, but shielded out of respect. Fir doesn’t bloom loud. Fir survives steady.

And in a season where the outside world tries to turn everything into performance, Fir reminds me: root first, signal second.

Words of the Wise One (Hávamál)

“But a noble name will never die, if good renown one gets.”

That line hits harder when you remember what it’s really saying: reputation outlives comfort. So if I’m going to build anything public, it can’t be built on heat, impulse, or overexposure. It has to be built on conduct. On choices I’d still stand behind when the lights are off.

Tarot (Rider–Waite–Smith) — four-card spread

Past — Six of Cups (reversed)

This is the odd twist: in the Rider–Waite tradition, the reversal can lean toward moving forward—release from nostalgia, living in the present, or being pulled out of “then” and into “now.” In the “past” position, it reads to me like this:

  • I’ve been carrying “the old me” in my hands like a relic,
  • but the past has already been quietly pushing me toward a new environment,
  • even when I wasn’t ready to admit I was changing.

Present — Judgment

Judgment is a card of change of position, renewal, and outcome—but it also mirrors a psychological reality: when life gets unstable, the mind turns into a courtroom. We review, we prosecute, we sentence ourselves.

So the present message is blunt: stop turning your life into a verdict. Turn it into a review with action attached. If there’s a lesson here, extract it cleanly—then move.

Future — Queen of Cups

The Queen of Cups is loving intelligence: emotional depth without drowning, care without collapse, intuition that still acts. In the future position, she looks like:

  • a steadier emotional baseline,
  • compassion that doesn’t erase boundaries,
  • support that’s real (either from someone close, or from the part of me that finally learns how to be gentle and firm at the same time).

Me (Querent) — Page of Swords

The Page of Swords is vigilance: watchfulness, examination, scanning the horizon. That fits the moment I’m in—hyper-aware, measuring risk, watching patterns, trying to stay one step ahead.

The warning is built into the gift: vigilance can become suspicion; sharpness can become self-sabotage; words can become weapons.

So today I don’t need sharper takes. I need cleaner questions—and a controlled mouth when the nervous system is lit up.

A socio-psychological lens (what this is really about)

Socially: fame and fortune aren’t just “things.” They’re status signals. They change how people approach you, what they assume you owe them, and how much access they think they’re entitled to. Privacy isn’t just comfort—it’s a boundary that protects identity from becoming a public utility.

Psychologically: status is seductive because it promises relief: “If I’m seen, I’ll be safe. If I’m validated, I’ll stop doubting.” But that relief doesn’t last. The brain adapts. Then it asks for more—more proof, more output, more reaction.

So today’s move is to keep the signal honest:

  • Lugh Sulian isn’t “a mask.” It’s a boundary.
  • Judgment says: no more self-trials—only reviews that produce next steps.
  • Queen of Cups says: protect the inner life so the outer life doesn’t hollow you out.
  • Page of Swords says: be alert, but don’t become a blade pointed inward.

Three-line close

One line I am keeping: I don’t owe the world my whole self in order to be real.

One boundary I am setting: I will not trade privacy for attention—and I won’t let “being seen” become my new addiction.

One step for tomorrow: Write one clean paragraph that tells the truth, then do one offline action that builds the real life behind the words.

Godspeed.

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Lugh Sulian Standing on the Ledge · Rebuilding from the Rubble Lugh Sulian is a working name for a working moment. This profile exists to hold Standing on the Ledge: Rebuilding from the Rubble—an ongoing, real-time record of what happens after collapse, when old rules stop functioning and new ones haven’t yet earned trust. This is not myth reenactment. Not spiritual bypass. Not curated healing. It’s a field journal from the threshold. The name Lugh points toward skill, clarity, and responsibility carried with awareness. Sulian gestures toward sight—what can be seen when illusion drops away and pretending becomes too expensive. Together, they frame the posture of this work: to look clearly, act deliberately, and refuse to rebuild what already failed. Through short-form video, spoken reflection, and long-form writing, this project explores: Collapse without spectacle Responsibility without authority Burnout as a systems problem, not a personal flaw Pagan cycles as lived practice, not aesthetic Small fires instead of grand rebuilds This space is intentionally unfinished. It documents: Standing still without freezing Moving forward without rushing Learning from rubble instead of hiding it Unplugged-Pagan.com serves as the grounding—seasonal awareness, ritual stripped of performance, and meaning built from experience rather than doctrine. Standing on the Ledge is one expression of that grounding, focused on the human cost of broken systems and the slow work of rebuilding integrity. This is not a teaching platform. It’s a shared watchpost. If you’re here, you’re likely between versions of yourself—tired, alert, uncertain, and still standing. You don’t need answers yet. You need honesty, boundaries, and permission to move at the speed of truth. No conclusions offered. No certainty promised. Still on the ledge. Still watching. Still working the rubble. Godspeed. Optional Short Versions (for profile headers or bios) Short bio (Facebook / site header): Threshold work. Pagan-rooted, process-driven. Documenting collapse, clarity, and the refusal to rebuild what failed.

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