LexTalk

It started with my computer deciding it needed a nap.

Not just any nap—the dramatic, inconvenient, “installing updates, do not turn off” kind of nap. The kind of digital coma that makes you question everything, especially your Wi-Fi and your will to work.

So, naturally, I took this as a sign from the universe:

 “You’re not meant to work right now. You’re meant to witch.” 

And what better way to honor the moment than by doing what any slightly unhinged, spell-curious witch would do—look up a money spell and plan my rise to luxurious prosperity from the ashes of my bank account.

 Spells in the Search Bar & Squats on the Floor

Now, did I actually do the spell?

Of course not.

I bookmarked it, whispered “soon” like a villain in a Disney movie, and rolled right into a workout instead—because my confidence had been slinking around lately like a ghost with unfinished business. And nothing clears out the cobwebs of self-doubt like sweating out sadness while trying not to die during a lunge.

As I was mid-squat (graceful, yet slightly wheezy), my eyes landed on a book resting on my desk:

The Book of Divination: A Guide to Predicting the Future

The moment felt… enchanted. A little electric. The kind of moment where the veil between your sweat-soaked reality and spirit guidance feels thin.

So I did what any whimsical woman would do mid-glute burn:

I walked over, opened the book to a random page, and trusted that whatever appeared was meant to appear.

 Four Mysterious Messengers

Pages 186 and 187.

Four curious runes gazed back at me like,

“So… you called?”

 Ice

 Year

 Yew

 Dice Cup

And just like that, my casual workout turned into a full-on spiritual download.

 Ice: The Art of the Forced Pause

The computer crashing. My lack of motivation. My wandering mind.

Ice was already here, dancing all around me.

Ice is the rune of stillness. Of chilly detours and sacred freezes.

It whispered:

“Stop. Don’t rush. Let everything crystallize before you move. There is magic in the pause.”

Translation: Chill your broom, babe. The universe is throttling you back for a reason.

 Year: Cycles, Seasons, & Slow Magic

“Can I be rich and toned by Tuesday, please?”

—Me, 14 seconds before pulling the Year rune.

Year is the rune of slow magic. Harvest. Cycles. It’s the cozy assurance that what you plant will grow—eventually. Probably not tomorrow. But certainly someday.

“Tend to your magic like a garden. Water your intentions. Pull the weeds. This takes time, little witch.”

A good reminder that whether you’re manifesting money or muscles—consistency beats chaos.

 Yew: Death, Rebirth, and the Deep Stuff

This one gave me chills.

Yew is ancient, witchy, and wildly transformative. It’s the symbol of death and rebirth—but not in a scary way. More like… composting your self-doubt into confidence.

It said:

“What outdated belief are you still dragging behind you like a haunted cape? Cut it. Burn it. Become new.”

I suddenly saw myself shedding fear like snakeskin.

New Lex. Same sass. Fresh start.

 Dice Cup: Time to Play, Witch

And finally: the Dice Cup.

A little chaos. A little fate. A dash of “just do the thing already.”

This rune doesn’t let you hide in the planning phase. It’s the sparkle in the universe’s eye as it nudges you toward the leap.

“Fortune favors the bold. Do the spell. Take the risk. Roll the bones.”

Okay, okay. I hear you, spirit guides. I will do the damn spell.

 The Lesson from My Accidental Reading

What began as a frozen screen and a side of squats turned into a rune reading that read me harder than any algorithm ever could.

Here’s what I walked away with:

 Ice: Stop panicking. You’re not behind—you’re being still on purpose.

 Year: Nothing good blooms overnight. Water your dreams anyway.

 Yew: Old patterns don’t get to come with you. Let them rot.

 Dice Cup: Once you’re clear and ready—cast the spell. Take the step. Risk the magic.

 Spell Plan: A Little Ice, a Lot of Fire

Will I still do that money spell?

Absolutely. But now with intention.

 Ice: Ground and calm myself. No chaotic casting.

 Year: Write a real, soul-honest goal. Something that feels mine.

 Yew: Burn a limiting belief (safely) and let it die with a thank you.

 Dice Cup: Actually do the spell. And then take a bold, earthly step to support it.

Because let’s be honest—magic is real, but hustle is a spell too.

If you’re reading this and also feeling stuck, scattered, or spiritually itchy, consider this your little cosmic nudge.

Pull a card. Cast a spell. Go for a walk. Do a weird dance. Open a book and see what page fate throws at you.

There might just be runes waiting to read you too. 

With candlelight, coffee breath, and chaotic charm,

Lex