Man, let me tell you straight up, I never bought into the horoscope gig. Not even a little bit. I’m a technical guy; I build stuff. But life sometimes just throws a grenade at your feet, and you grab anything that looks like a map, even if it’s drawn in starlight. That’s how I ended up living my weeks according to Bejan Daruwalla’s Pisces predictions.
The whole thing started because I completely screwed up. Not a small mistake, either. Last fall, I was pulling 80-hour weeks trying to wrap up a huge system migration for this startup, and I was running on fumes. I missed a crucial dependency check—a dumb, basic error. When we pushed the live update, the system didn’t just crash; it basically dissolved. We lost three days of transactional data. The cleanup was brutal, and my boss made it clear I was one thread away from being fired. I was physically and mentally wrecked. I needed a pause button, but mostly, I needed some random structure to force me to slow down and notice things.
The Messy Start: Trying to Live by Prophecy
My buddy, who is into all that spiritual stuff, sent me the weekly Bejan reading, joking, “Maybe the cosmos knows better than you do right now, Fish.” I read the first week’s advice. It was something dramatic like: “A significant change is on the horizon. Do not ignore signals regarding long-term health, and beware of deceitful contracts.”
I took it literally. I grabbed a notebook and resolved to track every single event that week and map it back to the prediction. I called this the “Daruwalla Litmus Test.”
- Monday: I got an email offering a new side gig. It looked solid. I immediately thought of the “deceitful contract” warning. I spent four hours digging into the company’s registration. Nothing was overtly wrong, but the paranoia was so thick I pulled the plug. I emailed them and said no. Did I dodge a bullet? Probably not. I just dodged extra income.
- Wednesday: I felt a slight twinge in my knee while walking the dog. Health signal! I rushed to schedule a physical. The doctor told me I needed to stretch more. Not exactly a life-altering revelation.
- Friday: A coworker started acting strangely, avoiding eye contact. “Significant change on the horizon,” I thought. Was he plotting against me? I spent the whole day monitoring his Jira tickets. Turns out, his cat was just sick.
After that first week, I realized this was exhausting. Trying to force real-world chaos into a vague, mystical box was driving me crazier than before. I was hunting for trouble where none existed. The prediction wasn’t helping me; it was making me suspicious and reactive.
Shifting the Strategy: From Prophecy to Prompt
I decided to ditch the idea that Bejan was a fortune teller. Instead, I started using his warnings as aggressive, proactive to-do list items—a way to manage my burnout by giving me permission to focus on one area, even if it felt manufactured. I transformed the passive warnings into active verbs. This was the game-changer.
For example, the next week’s prediction said: “The stars demand attention to your social circle. Neglected relationships need immediate mending.”
In the past, I would have waited for a friend to call me out. Now, I saw it as a mandate. I didn’t wait for my phone to ring; I grabbed it and smashed the numbers. I proactively scheduled calls with three people I hadn’t talked to in six months. I didn’t have any drama to “mend,” but I invested the time. One of those calls led to a referral for a small contract that I desperately needed. Win.
Another week: “Financial stability is tenuous; avoid unnecessary risks and focus on consolidation.” My usual interpretation would be to hide my wallet. My new interpretation: I will spend three hours this week consolidating my old, scattered 401k accounts and making sure my tax documents are filed early. It wasn’t avoiding risk; it was actively securing what I already had. I forced myself to sit down, open the spreadsheets, and actually manage the boring stuff I always deferred.
I tracked this new, aggressive approach for three months. I stopped stressing about if the prediction would come true, and instead focused on how I could use the prediction to justify doing the hard, often neglected work of maintaining my life.
The Final Takeaway: It’s Not Magic, It’s Motivation
What I learned through this weird, self-imposed experiment is that the advice, whether from an astrologer or a random self-help guru, is only as good as the action you strap onto it. The week I used the “Be wary of communication breakdowns” warning to finally write down a formal documentation process for my team, things got smoother. It wasn’t Bejan saving my butt; it was the fact that I had a cosmic excuse to prioritize boring administrative work.
I still check the prediction every Sunday night. But I treat it like a strategic quarterly goal from my old corporate days—vague enough to apply to anything, but specific enough to force me to commit resources. It makes me stop chasing the next big thing and instead, repair the foundations. It’s a silly system, totally irrational, but since I started using this weekly guidance as a compulsory checklist for self-maintenance, my operational errors have dropped, and my freelance income has stabilized. Sometimes you just need an external, slightly ridiculous voice telling you exactly where to direct your focus for the next seven days.
