Who I am

For nearly ten years, I built other people’s dreams.

I worked directly with founders and senior leaders — close enough to be in the room where the real decisions happened, trusted enough to bridge the gap between the vision at the top and the reality on the ground. I was the person they called when it was difficult. When the team was fracturing, when the launch was going wrong, when nobody else wanted to have the hard conversation.

I was known for being stoical. What I didn’t know then was that the Stoics were writing at exactly the same time as the Hellenistic astrologers whose work I’d later become obsessed with.

I found out through a whispered warning from an HR partner, someone who liked me enough to break ranks, that one of the MDs I worked for had said, “I just pile it all on her because she can take it.” It wasn’t a compliment. It was a description of how I was being used. She wasn’t wrong that I could take it. She was just wrong that I should.

I’ve looked back at the astrology of that period since. Of course, it was like that. The chart was a mess. I just didn’t understand that yet.

That was the crack.

The pandemic gave me the space to ask what I actually believed. I’d been studying my astrology since my teens, seriously, obsessively, but I’d dismissed tarot after a £200 reading in Ibiza that got everything spectacularly wrong. I came back to it reluctantly. Then I went all the way in.

Hellenistic astrology. Tarot. Mysticism. Energy work. Greek deities. Jungian frameworks. Stoic philosophy. I attend two-hour lectures on single tarot cards. I get up at midnight to pick nettles at the correct astrological hour to infuse protection oils. I am a chaote. I take this more seriously than I have ever taken anything. I wish I’d had all of this at thirty. Probably at thirteen.

What I found supercharged everything I already knew about work, pressure, and people.

I’ve been using these tools on my own life ever since. When a period feels impossible, I can look at my chart and understand why, and more importantly, when it shifts. I once cast a lunar return chart and saw I was heading into a difficult energy with a specific individual. I could also see it would resolve before I went on holiday. And it did. Knowing that changed how I navigated the whole thing. Not the circumstances. How I behaved, aas that was all I could control.

When I started this business, I divined on it. Then I went to a well-established, well-known tarot reader. I didn’t tell her what I’d already seen and asked her what she thought. It came out the same. I still felt nervous about starting it. But I trusted what I’d seen.

Here’s what I believe.

You are the oracle. You always were. Life does its best to make you forget that — hands you systems, structures, other people’s definitions of success, and slowly trains you out of your own knowing. I watched it happen to the people I worked alongside for years. I watched it happen to me.

In the magic community, I was once told that a lightbulb blowing in my house meant I had a spirit. I’ve had people warn me not to curse a toxic man in case he turned on me. I’ve watched people hand their power straight over to a practice that told them they should be afraid of it. That enrages me. It still does.

Any practice that asks you to surrender the wheel is just control wearing different clothes. Magic is the ultimate autonomy. Not surrender. Not fear. Autonomy.

I’m not a guru. I don’t want to be. I’m more like a librarian who did the ten thousand hours, so you don’t have to. The knowledge was always going to be yours. I just know where everything is, I can read it, interpret it, and hand it back to you as something you can actually use.

You leave knowing more of yourself. Not more dependent on me.

I work specifically with career, work, and business. That’s where my knowledge runs deep. My seventh house is a mess — come to me for the boardroom, not the bedroom.

When a reading really resonates, it feels like twenty doors opening that you didn’t know existed. Like a river that’s been dammed, suddenly running free.

That’s what I’m here for.