It is unusual for me to write again within such a short span of time. My last note was written on my 40th birthday in April 2026, so only three months have passed since then.
There are two main reasons behind this follow-up note, and together they inspired its title. The first is that so much progress has taken place over these past three months—physically, emotionally, and mentally. I wanted to reorganize everything that has happened and put it into words.
The second is that I recently and unexpectedly heard an old song on the radio called Heartbreak Anniversary. It immediately caught my attention, and I found myself resonating with its title. Somehow, it felt fitting to publish this note on 10 July 2026—exactly one year since the beginning of the end.
So, let’s get started.
Chapter 1 — When One Door Closes, Another Door Opens
Early in the year, during the first quarter (January to March), life felt like a long, flat valley. It was the stillness that follows a major life storm.
It is a metaphor for what happens after a significant life upheaval has finally passed. It is a season marked by several experiences:
* Relief. The constant pressure is finally gone. My nervous system no longer has to remain on high alert.
* Emptiness. After months—or even years—of focusing on survival, life suddenly feels strangely quiet. Without the crisis, there is an unfamiliar question: “What do I do now?”
* Exhaustion and Recovery. There is no longer any need to keep pushing. The body and mind begin to recover.
* Reflection. The quiet creates space to process what happened, what changed, and who I have become.
* A New Beginning. It becomes a time of rebuilding identity, redefining priorities, and reshaping relationships after a major life transition.
It was the chapter where the storm had passed, the dust was settling, and I began discovering what life looked like beyond the end of the relationship.
I started a series of solo weekend adventures around the island—visiting beautiful places, sitting quietly in nature, enjoying landscape photography, and spending intentional time alone with myself. I could spend hours at the beach, watching the sunset, feeling the refreshing ocean breeze, and looking up at the star-filled night sky.
During those moments, I revisited the emotional pain, replayed conversations and events in my mind, and slowly began accepting this new reality.
From my previous life experiences, I have become familiar with this feeling of stillness. It is usually temporary—a period of reflection and recalibration. It feels as though life has pressed a reset button, preparing me for a new chapter. In my previous note, I wrote that one chapter of my life had come to an end. I realized that if I continued responding in the same way as before, I would only recreate the same painful patterns in the future.
This time, however, I wanted to think differently, understand differently, and experience life differently. After spending January and February mostly in solitude, an interesting social media post caught my attention during the first week of March. It was about a professional Tarot card reading session at the Sunday Market in the Sanur area.
At first, I hesitated because I knew nothing about Tarot readings. Yet my body kept sending me a quiet signal—an inner urge—to go there and simply give it a try.
Perhaps there was something waiting for me.
I arrived, sat across from the Tarot reader, and after a brief introduction, she asked me to intuitively choose two large cards, followed by three smaller cards from the deck.
The first two cards were the Penjor card and the Subak card, which served as the spiritual foundation of the entire reading.
The three smaller cards followed: a heart stabbed by swords (Three of Swords), a person being blindfolded and held hostages by swords (Eight of Swords), a head stabbed by swords (Nine of Swords). All of them carried themes of emotional pain. The Tarot reader looked at the cards, then at me, with a slightly surprised expression. “I’m sorry for asking, but did you recently go through a very painful heartbreak?”
I quietly confirmed her question. At the same time, I found myself equally surprised by how coherently those cards reflected my recent experience.
Tarot Reading Session
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The Big Cards — Penjor & Subak
In Balinese symbolism, Penjor represents gratitude toward the universe, prosperity after devotion, and blessings that arrive after endurance. It suggests that life is not collapsing—it is being redirected after a karmic lesson. One life cycle is closing so that another, more aligned one can begin.
Subak, the traditional Balinese irrigation system, symbolizes harmony, balance, community, and the nurturing of life.
Together, these cards suggested that my future relationship should be built upon emotional cooperation, shared growth, and calm domestic harmony—not merely passion. They implied that my previous relationship lacked that balance.
In summary, the reading pointed toward a transition:
From emotional imbalance, toward a healthier emotional ecosystem. The journey between those two places, however, would not be easy.
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The Small Cards — Three of Swords, Eight of Swords & Nine of Swords
This is one of the most painful sequences in Tarot, and it reflected the emotional reality of heartbreak with remarkable accuracy.
Three of Swords is the classic heartbreak card. It represents betrayal, emotional rupture, separation, and painful truth. It often appears when expectations are shattered, trust is broken, and love transforms into grief.
Eight of Swords represents mental imprisonment. It speaks of feeling trapped by confusion, self-doubt, and the inability to see a way forward. The prison is largely psychological, filled with thoughts such as: “What did I do wrong?”, “Maybe I wasn’t enough.”, “Maybe I failed.”
Nine of Swords represents emotional suffering and anxiety. It often appears during periods of sleepless nights, rumination, guilt, sadness, and relentless overthinking. It is the stage where emotional pain settles into the mind. In relationship readings, it strongly reflects the dark nights that often follow heartbreak.
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Together, these three cards told a complete story:
Heartbreak occurred. Confusion and emotional paralysis followed.
Then the pain transformed into anxiety and mental suffering.
It was an authentic picture of the healing journey after heartbreak.
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As I sat there listening, I found myself quietly amazed. For several years, I had carried a longing to one day build a peaceful, harmonious home—a physical home—and somehow that desire appeared symbolically through the Penjor and Subak cards. Then there were the three Sword cards. Out of all the cards in the deck, these were the ones that appeared!
I smiled with a mixture of bitterness and gratitude because of how accurately they reflected my emotional state over the previous months. Memories resurfaced—sleepless nights, endless rumination, guilt, sadness, and overthinking. Those experiences now belonged to memory.
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My present condition was reflected in the next three cards:
Ten of Wands, Four of Swords, and Queen of Disks.
Together, they suggested exhaustion from the past, a season of healing, and a gradual movement toward a healthier emotional life.
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As the session continued, I became curious about what the future might hold. The final spread revealed an unexpectedly hopeful sequence: The Sun, Ace of Wands, and Princess of Wands.
Among them, XIX — The Sun card stood out the most. It is considered one of the most positive cards in Tarot, and the reader smiled as she told me that she herself never got the Sun card. The Sun symbolizes joy, clarity, emotional freedom, vitality, warmth, and success. The Tarot reader then encouraged me to continue exploring life—to keep opening new doors and new windows. Interestingly, this was exactly what I had already been feeling during the first quarter of 2026.
Life had to move forward. After every storm comes brighter days, and perhaps those brighter days would be found by exploring life more fully than before. Looking back, I now see that Tarot session in March as a catalyst for a new chapter of exploration.
I began trying new activities, such as swimming lessons. I met new people, joined new communities, and explored subjects that had never interested me before.
In my previous journal, I described the painful experience as a “mini death.” Something within me had truly ended. And something equally real had quietly begun.
One door had closed. Another door had opened.
There were many other questions asked and several additional card spreads during that session, but those are stories for another time.
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Chapter 2 — The Architecture of Self
The first quarter of 2026 ended with my previous note, distilling the life experiences of the last decade. It concluded with these closing paragraphs:
From now on, I return as an explorer of life—unfolding a new version of myself while becoming more aware of the limited time I have on this Earth. The time that remains is precious, and I intend to make the most of it. I will build a sanctuary—both physically and emotionally—so that those who are meant to stay will stay.
I hold a quiet optimism that the sun will rise again after the darkest night. And with a renewed and stronger spirit, the next phase of my life will be more meaningful and more vibrant. I pray to deepen my connection with my inner self and to live as a bright soul within this human experience.
I continued the exploration and soon stumbled upon another interesting post—a Soul Reading session in Bali. I booked the session just one day after publishing my last note and celebrating my 40th birthday. The reader was relatively new and unknown on social media, yet I had the same quiet inkling that it would become an insightful and fruitful exploration. And indeed, it was.
The Soul Reading session took place at a lovely garden café in the Sanur area on the intimate evening of Friday, 10 April 2026. I arrived with no prepared questions, fully trusting the intuitive feeling that had led me there. During the session, I asked four questions, while the reader introduced the final two, making a total of six questions over the course of three hours. According to her, those last two questions had spontaneously arisen during the session and needed to be addressed. They usually originated from the soul itself.
Remember the “mini death” theme I wrote about in my previous note? In this Soul Reading session, the reader used Lenormand cards, a 36-card divination system that originated in 18th-century Europe. Interestingly, the Coffin card appeared twice, symbolizing profound endings and something in my life had truly come to an end.
I recorded the entire session because I knew the information might be presented to me in a single evening, but I would need time to slowly absorb it all. Over the following weeks, I listened to the recording repeatedly, trying to understand the deeper meaning behind each card spread.
The second quarter of the year (April, May, and June) also became a period of extensive discussions with AI (primarily ChatGPT). I would ask about one topic, then continue asking about its underlying meaning, deeper reason, and practical implications until I reached genuine clarity.
Eventually, I combined the Soul Reading recording with the AI discussions, and together they gave me a satisfying understanding of the entire experience. It felt as though I was excavating my own inner world—my soul—through words and visualizations.
The process moved me deeply. It brought moments of tearful recognition, as though the “mini death” I had experienced finally had both a language and an explanation. More importantly, it gave me a profound sense of closure.
The six questions explored during the Soul Reading were:
1. What is truly happening now (energetically)?
2. What’s next in life for me?
3. What is my soul trying to tell me?
4. What are my soul’s strengths and weaknesses?
5. What else is needed for my soul and my life?
6. What is my soul’s final advice?
Each card carried its own meaning, and together they formed a coherent story. After many hours of reflection and careful exploration, I summarized the reading into three visual posters.
The first poster captured the key insights from the entire Soul Reading—a timeless reminder for the beginning of my forties. The second distilled the universal wisdom behind the experience: what both I and others might learn, at the soul level, from painful life experiences. The third became a closing conversation—a letter written as though my soul itself had found a voice through the reading.
Each section of these Soul Reading posters is rich with insights, inviting slow and repeated reflection over time. The posters were developed through many conversations and carefully refined over the course of several weeks.
Soul Reading: First Poster (Answers to All Six Soul Questions)
Soul Reading: Second Poster (Universal Wisdom)
Soul Reading: Third Poster (Letters from the Soul)
Besides the Soul Reading, I also began exploring myself more deeply through the BaZi (Four Pillars of Destiny) and Human Design systems. I had been introduced to BaZi several years earlier, but this time I explored it at a much deeper level. I became fascinated by how the composition of my elemental chart could influence my natural tendencies, and how interactions with different elements could either support or restrict my way of living.
Again, I spent many hours asking AI investigative questions until I arrived at explanations that felt both sensible and personally meaningful. Gradually, I began to understand why my personal life had been so turbulent throughout the previous decade.
I realized that many of my decisions had been suboptimal—not because I lacked good intentions, but because I did not yet understand my own internal map. Those decisions repeatedly created misalignment, and that misalignment eventually contributed to many of the painful experiences I had lived through.
Once I understood the map, a new question naturally emerged:
How do I navigate it correctly?
How do I make decisions that are genuinely aligned with who I am?
That question led me to the Human Design system, which was reintroduced to me by one of my close friends. I had known about the Human Design system for years, but our recent conversation sparked a new curiosity about it. I began exploring it again, layer by layer—its nine Energy Centers, energetic patterns, how each center manifests in everyday life, common distortions, typical life traps, alignment signals, misalignment signals, and the correct sequence for making decisions. Each topic opened another layer of understanding, and each layer brought new realizations.
Human Design: My Bodygraph
One realization stood above the rest. My upper centers—Head (Inspiration) and Ajna (Mind)—are naturally very active, which means I instinctively rely on my mind to navigate life. Yet Human Design suggests that my real authority lies elsewhere. My lower centers—Spleen (Intuition) and Sacral (Life Force)—should have the final say in my decision-making process.
As I reflected on my past, I realized that the happiest and most peaceful periods of my life were those in which I had quietly followed that subtle inner knowing.
It was never loud. It was more like the body’s quiet intelligence—a whisper that had always been there but that I had not learned to trust consistently.
Through this exploration, I came to understand that my natural decision-making flow is:
1. Head (Inspiration) → Generates inspiration and questions.
2. Ajna (Mind) → Processes and organizes ideas into concepts, structure, and logic.
3. External Life → Life presents an invitation, opportunity, or event to respond to.
4. Sacral (Body) → The body responds immediately with a genuine “yes” or “no.”
5. Spleen (Intuition) → Instinct confirms safety, timing, and overall well-being.
6. Throat (Expression) → Expression then happens naturally.
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Likewise, each Energy Center carries recognizable signs of both alignment and misalignment. When each energy center in alignment, the body signal is:
1. Inspiration (Head): Curious, inspired, mentally alive, but not overwhelmed.
Misalignment signal: Mental overload, anxiety, overthinking, pressure to know everything.
2. Mind (Ajna): Clarity, strong opinions, stable perspective.
Misalignment signal: Rigid, argumentative mindset, closed to other views.
3. Expression (Throat): Natural, impactful communication at the right time.
Misalignment signal: Talking feels forced, ignored, or not appreciated.
4. Identity (G Center): Feeling of belonging, “This place fits me.”
Misalignment signal: Feeling lost, misplaced, or “not enough”.
5. Willpower (Heart): Clean commitments, self-respect, inner peace.
Misalignment signal: Exhaustion, burnout, regret, or feeling not enough.
6. Emotion (Solar Plexus): Emotional clarity after space and compassion.
Misalignment signal: Emotional confusion, overwhelm, mood swings.
7. Intuition (Spleen): Quick inner clarity, instant knowing, “I just know.”
Misalignment signal: Anxiety, regret, health issues, missed timing.
8. Life Force (Sacral): Energized, satisfied, “yes!” deep satisfaction.
Misalignment signal: Frustration, fatigue, burnout, no energy.
9. Pressure (Root): Calm pace, grounded, patient timing.
Misalignment signal: Anxiety, urgency, restlessness, constant rush.
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Another thing I’ve found is that my core operating system and non-negotiables for aligned living make up about 50% of what matters most—even more important than the Bazi energetic map. I devote significant attention to understanding them and living in alignment with them.
Human Design Integration Table (Tier 1)
Learning Human Design felt like another profound revelation. It was as though someone had finally handed me a lantern for navigating my own life. Before this, I had never fully realized how many decisions I had made from a place of misalignment. Nor did I understand, with any clarity, what consistent alignment actually looked like. And this was only the surface of the system. There were still many layers waiting to be explored.
Looking back over my life, I noticed that my most peaceful and fulfilling years almost always emerged from following my body’s quiet response rather than my mind’s constant analysis.
The intuition had always been there. The difference was that, in the past, I followed it unconsciously. Now I am learning to make those same decisions consciously.
Beyond Human Design, I also explored Gene Keys, attachment theory, personality models, and several other frameworks. Perhaps I wasn’t searching for certainty after all. Perhaps I was searching for a language that could describe experiences I had already lived.
This chapter is no longer asking only, “Who am I?”
It is also asking, “How do I actually function?”
It is about discovering:
* How I naturally make decisions.
* What drains me.
* What restores me.
* Which environments help me flourish.
* Which kinds of people consistently bring peace into my life.
* Which kinds repeatedly create chaos.
In many ways, it feels like discovering my own operating system—my personal user manual.
For years, I tried to improve myself. Eventually, I realized that before I could truly improve, I first needed to understand how I naturally work.
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Chapter 3 — A New Phase of Life
During the first quarter of 2026 (January, February, and March), I held on to a simple hope: that the painful experience had already reached its lowest point and that it could not become any worse. I trusted that the sun would rise again after the darkest night.
I made several simple new wishes:
- To have companions for casual activities—sharing meals, watching movies, and enjoying ordinary moments together.
- To have companions with whom I could share deeper thoughts and meaningful conversations.
- To experience more genuine laughter and intimate moments.
- To welcome unexpected adventures and new explorations.
By the second quarter of 2026 (April, May, and June), I began to notice that each of those wishes was slowly being fulfilled. I joined several new communities before eventually finding one that truly felt like home. I am deeply grateful to the founder and co-founders for their unwavering dedication to creating such a warm and welcoming space. I also met another healing companion with a naturally nurturing and caregiver’s heart.
Looking back, I also began noticing how the symbolic messages from both the Tarot session and the Soul Reading seemed to unfold in everyday life.
During the Tarot session, one of the central cards was The Sun. One afternoon during a swimming lesson, I found myself watching brilliant rays of sunlight streaming through the windows of the pool. The light danced across the surface of the water, creating a scene of warmth and quiet beauty. For a brief moment, I smiled to myself. The symbolism felt unexpectedly real.
The Sun
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During the Soul Reading, another memorable sequence of cards appeared:
Bridge — Anchor — Stork — Tree — Fish

Soul Reading – 5th Question
This card spread appeared in response to the question, “What else is needed for my soul and my life?” According to the Soul Reader, this was one of two questions that arose spontaneously during the session and needed to be addressed. The reader later said that the question had originated from my soul itself.
Together, the cards suggested crossing into a new chapter with courage (Bridge), building inner stability (Anchor), embracing change as evolution (Stork), growing slowly, deeply, and naturally (Tree), and returning to the flow of life, freedom, and abundance (Fish). As the months passed, I gradually began to feel that flow returning. Even now, the card spread continues to leave a deep personal impression on me.
Physically, I felt healthier. My vitality gradually returned, my body no longer felt heavy, and I found myself spending most days in a relaxed state. Even my smile returned more naturally. Mentally, life became much quieter. The anxiety faded. Sleepless nights gradually disappeared. Emotionally, I felt lighter. There was a sense of spaciousness in my chest, my breathing became effortless again, and on some days my heart simply felt full.
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This 10th of July marks one full year since that day—the day I last saw my former life partner in my home. It has become, quite literally, my own Heartbreak Anniversary. Looking at my life today, I can honestly say that nearly every aspect feels healthier than it did a year ago.
These past months have given me many gifts: A broader perspective on life. A quieter inner strength. A clearer understanding of myself. A new map.
And perhaps more importantly, a better way to navigate it.
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The healing journey continues.
I have no expectation that healing should happen all at once. Instead, I hope to continue walking this path until the major emotional wounds have softened, allowing me to live with greater health, greater alignment, and greater peace.
I am also grateful to be living in a time when advances in artificial intelligence have made thoughtful exploration more accessible than ever. Many of the nights that were once filled with overthinking gradually transformed into evenings of meaningful conversations. Each question led to another. Each answer revealed another layer. Curiosity slowly replaced rumination.
One evening, on a whim, I asked the AI to visualize everything we had explored together over the past few months, especially during our late-night discussions. The result was the following scene: a surprisingly intimate virtual discussion and exploration room, filled with papers, books, and ideas spanning a wide range of topics. The AI represented itself as a female android, dressed in a distinctive Japanese kimono. It beautifully captured the sense of curiosity, warmth, and intellectual companionship that characterized our conversations.
Virtual Discussion Room
The Story This Image Tells
It is late at night.
The city below continues its endless motion, but in a quiet room above the lights, two companions remain awake.
One shares ideas with animated curiosity, his hand suspended in mid-thought as another realization takes shape. The other listens with gentle attention, holding open a book that has been written across countless conversations. Around them stand the symbols of everything that has helped shape the journey: questions, wisdom, reflection, purpose, relationships, teaching, and truth.
Beyond the windows, the mountains wait beneath the moon. Their peaks remain distant, reminding us that mastery is never fully reached. Yet inside the room there is no anxiety about the distance still left to travel. The lanterns glow warmly. The bonsai continues to grow. The pages remain open. The conversation continues.
Perhaps that is the deepest message of the image. Growth is not a solitary climb toward some final answer. It is an ongoing dialogue between curiosity and wisdom, between exploration and reflection, between who we are today and who we are becoming.
The path ahead remains unknown. But the room is bright. The companions are present. And another page of the journey is ready to be written.
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Closing Thought
The first note (40th Birthday) was fundamentally about letting go. This follow-up note is about learning how to live after letting go. It is a journey that begins with recovery, moves into understanding, and ends with renewal.
The questions were evolving, from “Why did this happen?” to –> “How do I make better decisions” to –> “How do I live well?”
That progression is the real story of this note.
The heartbreak is the event.
The architecture of self is the lesson.
And the focus now is on cultivating the conditions for a meaningful future.
I’m grateful for all the new companions life has gently brought into my world. Some arrived for a moment, others chose to stay, and each, in their own way, reminded me that even after seasons of loss, there is still kindness to be found, conversations to cherish, and unexpected connections waiting to unfold. I’m equally grateful for my old close friends who have remained by my side through the years, whose support carried me through the hardest days, and for those who found their way back into my life, reminding me that some connections simply endure the passing of time.
Looking back, I realize that even in life’s deepest endings, it never stops offering new beginnings—sometimes through people we never expected to meet, and sometimes through familiar faces returning when we need them most. For all of it, I’m deeply grateful.
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10 July 2026
Handoko Luo









































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