The rain was a steady, rhythmic thrum against my studio window on December 14th—the kind of grey Portland morning that feels like a heavy blanket you didn't ask for. I was sitting on my floor, surrounded by half-finished sketches and a cold cup of Earl Grey, feeling that familiar, buzzy ‘now what?’ anxiety. If you’ve read my spiritual awakening story about that wild week in Portland, you know I’m a sucker for a good sign from the universe, even when I’m trying to be skeptical.
Before I dive into the lunar weeds, a quick heads-up: this post contains affiliate links. If you decide to grab a reading through them, I earn a commission at no extra cost to you. I’ve spent my own freelance-drought-dollars on these tools because I wanted to see if they actually held water—or if it was just more internet noise in my already crowded brain.
The Morning Everything Felt Too Loud
Two years ago, the volume on my life got turned up to eleven. Colors looked brighter, crowds felt like a physical weight, and my intuition started screaming about things I didn’t want to hear. Since then, I’ve been trying to find a container for it all. On that December morning, I felt particularly untethered. My freelance work had slowed to a trickle, and my 'soul purpose' felt like a document I’d accidentally deleted and couldn't find in the trash bin.
I’d seen ads for Moon Reading before. Usually, I scroll past the flashy spiritual stuff, but something about the phrase 'soul purpose' caught me at the right moment of vulnerability. I wanted to know if this weird path I was on—the meditation, the journaling, the sudden sensitivity—actually meant something.
The 11-Minute Video that Called Me Out
I entered my birth date, time, and location. Standard stuff. But when the personalized video loaded, I wasn’t expecting much. Here is the thing: I’ve done the YouTube rabbit holes. I’ve listened to the generic ‘you are a starseed’ videos that say the same thing to everyone. This was different.
The Moon Reading video duration was exactly 11 minutes. In that short window, it broke down my moon sign (Pisces, which... yeah, explains the constant emotional leaking) and my lunar phase. But it was the 'soul purpose' section that made me put down my tea. It talked about a struggle between the need for creative solitude and a calling to share a specific kind of 'visual healing.' As an illustrator who has been terrified to show her more 'spiritual' work, it felt like someone had been reading my private journals. It wasn't just generic fluff; it was weirdly specific about the timing of my recent creative blocks.
Why the Moon Matters (In My Unprofessional Opinion)
We talk a lot about sun signs—the 'who you are at a party' version of yourself. But the moon is the basement. It’s the stuff you only see when the lights are off and you’re being honest with yourself. For someone going through an awakening, the moon sign feels more relevant because it deals with the subconscious. The Moon Reading focused on that internal architecture. It helped me realize that my current 'drought' wasn't a failure, but a necessary phase of retraction. Like the moon, I wasn't meant to be full and shining every single day of the month.
Expanding the Toolkit: January and March
By January 5th, I was still feeling the post-holiday slump. The Moon Reading had given me a map, but I needed a way to actually stay grounded while I followed it. I decided to try the Billionaire Brain Wave program. I’ll be honest—the name is a bit much for me. I’m not looking to buy a yacht; I’m looking to pay my rent in Portland without having a panic attack.
The Billionaire Brain Wave cost me $39, and it’s essentially an audio frequency designed to stimulate the theta wave. I started incorporating it into my morning sketch sessions. It’s a 7-minute track. It didn't make money fall from the ceiling, but it did something weird to my focus. Usually, my brain is a pinball machine of 'did I email that client back?' and 'why did I say that in 2012?' With the audio playing, the noise just... settled. It felt like a practical companion to the spiritual insights I’d gotten from the moon report.
Then, on March 10th, I felt another shift. I was deeper into my practice—more journaling, more silence—and I wanted a more structured look at my path. I picked up the Soul Manifestation report for $37. It’s a massive PDF that uses your birth chart to map out your soul’s 'mission.' Between the $39 for the brain wave audio and the $37 for the manifestation report, my total tool investment was $76. For the price of a couple of fancy dinners in the Pearl District, I had a full-blown spiritual roadmap.
Honest Doubt and Awkward Moments
I want to be real for a second. There were moments during this 14-week exploration where I felt like a total cliché. I’d be sitting there with my headphones on, listening to 'brain waves,' while looking at a chart of my lunar nodes, and I’d think, 'Is this what 29 looks like now?'
There’s a lot of performance in the spiritual world. People acting like they have it all figured out because they bought a piece of citrine. I don’t have it figured out. Some days the Moon Reading feels like a divine message, and other days it feels like a very clever algorithm. But here is what I’ve learned: the 'how' matters less than the 'what.' If an 11-minute video makes me feel seen enough to start drawing again, does it matter if it came from a computer or a clairvoyant?
The Pros and Cons of Going Lunar
- Pros: The Moon Reading is free to start, which is a low-stakes way to dip your toes in. The video format is way more engaging than reading a wall of text, and it actually felt personalized to my specific creative struggles.
- Cons: Once you get your free reading, there are a lot of upsells. If you’re in a sensitive spot, the marketing can feel a bit 'commercial.' I had to remind myself to take what resonated and leave the rest.
Reflections from the Studio Floor
It’s now April, and the Portland cherry blossoms are starting to drop. Looking back at the timeline from December 14th to March 20th, I can see a change in my work. My illustrations are weirder now. They have more layers. I’m okay with the silence.
The Moon Reading didn't fix my life—I still have to do my taxes and deal with difficult clients—but it gave me a language for the 'volume turned up' feeling. It made me realize that my sensitivity isn't a bug in the system; it’s the whole point of the system. If you’re feeling lost in your own awakening, or if the world just feels too loud, getting a Moon Reading might just give you that one specific piece of information that makes the rest of the noise stop for a minute. Even if it gets a little weird, sometimes weird is exactly what we need.