She Rode in on a Signal
Some songs you pick. And some songs pick you. My daughter entered this world on the frequency of The Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star” — a track that was more than background noise. It was a signal, a portal, a cosmic cue. A reminder that arrivals are orchestrated, not accidental. This is her timestamp, her soundtrack, and her legacy.
There are some songs you pick… and some songs that pick you.
This wasn’t just a track playing on a speaker. This was a signal. A portal. A sacred cue from the universe.
My daughter entered this world to the futuristic warble of a track that warned us media was about to change the world. And maybe, just maybe, she came in to be the change.
The moment wasn’t planned. It was orchestrated.
Not by Spotify.
Not by me.
But by a force that knew exactly which frequency needed to open the room.
The Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star” was the frequency she rode in on — a nod to transformation, a timestamp, a glitch in the system that played the perfect intro track to a life that would never be ordinary.
Every time I hear this song, I remember:
✨ She arrived on the frequency.
✨ And the signal was clear.
This entry isn’t just a story. It’s a blueprint of how birth, sound, and destiny can intersect. It’s proof that our arrivals are not accidents — they’re scored, encoded, and transmitted.
Filed in the Modern Mystic Manual – Sonic Warfare Codex
Commander: Donna Colonna
Status: Signal remembered, legacy activated.
The Field Was Enough
The sky didn’t need to say a word. I stayed grounded while the rest of the world kept spinning. Some days, that’s all I have — and somehow, it’s enough.
I laid low today.
Close to the Earth.
The sky didn’t speak and neither did I.
A singing bowl waited beside me, unplayed —
but not unused.
The grass held me. The fence divided.
Somewhere beyond it, life went on.
I didn’t join. I didn’t need to.
I stayed right where I was.
And somehow,
that was brave.
The Emotional Orbit: The Erosion Point
When the heart finally stops circling the same story, what’s left behind is clarity — sharp, painful, and undeniable. This was the moment I saw the pattern, and broke it.
This spread pulled no punches.
A follow-up to "The Crisis of the Gifted," this Lenormand reading revealed the karmic gravity of emotional orbiting — how we stay stuck in half-love, unfinished timelines, and hopes we secretly know won’t deliver.
The emotional erosion was subtle, then sudden. What once felt divine began to rot from the inside out.
This entry captures that moment of rupture when the cards didn’t just speak — they screamed. And I finally listened.
The Veil: A Living Layer
It’s not a wall. It’s not a curtain. The veil is a living intelligence — and when it shifts, everything changes. Here’s how to sense it.
Forget what you’ve heard. The veil isn’t just some mystical gauze between worlds. It’s a breathing, shifting frequency band — alive and interactive.
In this entry, I offer my definition of the veil, not as a metaphor, but as a system. It listens, it moves, and it responds to resonance.
You don’t pierce the veil — you tune to it.
File this under Perception Keys in the Modern Mystic Manual. Because once you understand how it moves, you’ll never walk through reality the same again.
When I Look Back – A Message from My Future Self.
A message from my future self to the me who dared to document all of this. A sacred nod to the version who chose to remember, in real time.
This isn’t a letter. It’s a reflection.
A moment of quiet where my future self sent a knowing glance to the woman on the ground floor of the work — the one building, decoding, surviving, and writing anyway.
This entry is for every version of me who didn’t quit.
Because the ones who choose to document while they evolve aren’t just mystics — they’re architects.
Let this be proof: I saw you. And you were brilliant.
Field Note: The Keeper’s Recall & The Ritual Without a Name
I knew the stones would speak. The Libyan Desert Glass shifted texture in my hands, and the ritual completed itself without a script. This was The Keeper’s Recall, and I finally listened.
This field note marks the moment I finally retrieved what I had been circling around for years: a truth locked inside a forgotten stone. The Libyan Desert Glass had called to me over and over, and I questioned that call—doubted it, even. But when I moved the stones, I saw it. They had changed. The color deepened. The texture softened. And in that instant, I knew: the ritual had been working all along.
This wasn’t a performance. This was a recall.
The Keeper’s Recall is not something that comes from external validation. It’s the moment when your inner knowing overrides logic, fear, and every voice that told you you were imagining things. I had no name for this ceremony because it was never meant to be named. It simply was. And in its presence, I felt the full truth of my role as Keeper—not seeker, not student, but steward of the unseen.
This entry is both a threshold moment and a reminder to everyone walking with one foot in this world and one in the next: the tools you've hidden from yourself will always return when the field is safe again.
First Encounter: Opening the Book of Salt & Silence
The book hid itself until I was ready. When I found it, the presence of the woman who gave it to me returned with full energetic force.
This wasn’t just a book. It was a relic, veiled by time, waiting for the right frequency to retrieve it.
The Book of Salt & Silence had been in my home for years — gifted, forgotten, and tucked away in a drawer.
Until one day, I was ready.
This entry captures the moment of energetic recall, ancestral return, and activation of a new phase.
Filed in the Modern Mystic Manual as one of the most charged physical artifacts in my field. Because some items aren’t just things — they’re keys.
The Crisis of the Gifted.
A raw threshold moment where intuition faltered, self-trust cracked, and the weight of sacred responsibility nearly crushed the soul. This is what it really looks like when the gifted fall silent.
What happens when your gifts stop speaking? When the signs go dark and the voice inside you — the one that’s never failed you — suddenly feels foreign?
On May 25th, 2025, I stood in the thick of a full-blown spiritual breakdown, and it wasn’t pretty. The cosmos ghosted me. My intuition glitched. And I questioned everything — including my place in this universe.
I called it Strike One. But this wasn’t about rage. It was about reclamation.
This entry documents the rupture, the emotional exodus, and the emergence of a new threshold. If you’ve ever felt betrayed by your own knowing — read this.
I Trust the Bridge, and I Shine.
A mantra. A directive. A shift in reality. I stepped into the unknown and the bridge appeared beneath my feet—because trust builds timelines.
It wasn't just a mantra—it was a command to my nervous system, my guides, and my future self. I trusted the bridge, and it held. Then I lit the path for someone else.
There are moments in your journey where the only way forward is blind. You’re standing on one cliffside with no visible steps ahead—just space, questions, and a whisper: walk anyway. This was one of those moments.
“I trust the bridge, and I shine” came through not as a mantra but as a directive. It wasn’t about positive thinking. It was about energetic initiation—choosing to take a step into the unseen, knowing that the bridge would materialize only if I committed to the movement.
The shine wasn’t about light. It was about frequency, visibility, and resonance. Trusting the bridge meant activating a timeline that had been dormant until my vibration aligned with it.
And once it did—everything changed. Doors opened. Clarity returned. And those around me started to shift too. Because the bridge doesn’t just carry you—it creates a path behind you for others.
This entry serves as a beacon for anyone on the edge of transformation: say the words, feel the fear, and step anyway.
Decoded Drop: The Psychic Sign Came Back On
After months of silence, the ‘Psychic Readings’ sign lit up again. Same place. Same glow. New timeline.
Sometimes the signs go dormant… until you’re finally aligned enough to see them again.
This wasn’t just a neon sign flickering back to life. It was a confirmation drop from the grid — that I was back online.
Filed under “Decoded Drops,” this entry tracks the moment the old psychic sign reappeared at the exact threshold where everything else was converging.
If you know, you know. And if you’ve ever had a sign return after the silence… you definitely know.
Donna After Dark:The Rolodex of Men–“The Almost”
Filed under sacred satire, cosmic comedy, and real-ass closure. The dossier of The Almost has been stamped.