Living Frequency: The Shape of Silence and the Rhythm of the Void
Rhythm of My Presence
I think I know what’s going on… with me.
In my chart, I shine through the fifth house. Once my heart opens, that’s where my power and self-validation live. And I’ve done that—I’ve opened it. I also have Neptune and my Moon on the Midheaven, so I ought not care too much about how I’m seen, received, or whether I get applause. I know better.
And yet—sometimes I confuse one thing for the other.
It’s a distortion when I compare myself to others. Losing my rhythm. Losing my North. Confusing it all.
For example: I create something—something I love, something I made. It gets a reception, and then I decide to measure it not in itself, just like being grateful and I am, but I look around and see others being celebrated, awarded, seen. And suddenly, it feels like I disappear. So now, I’m asking—not why I compare—but how. And how I injure myself when I do.
Some people get recognition and still hate it—because they never thought they were enough to begin with. Some people, like me, feel that we’re doing really great—and yet we don’t receive what we expect. And that’s the cut. That is the illusion.
Insecurity—real insecurity—can kill the spirit. Because we look outside for confirmation of something we already know. That’s the black void. That’s what Venus retrograde gave me—the void I can now name. Mysterious. Familiar. Present. Scary…
I’m a 6/2. I carry second lines and sixth lines through my profile in human design, my nodes, my gates. So yes—I oscillate. Sometimes I’m the hermit—at peace in my solitude, focused on creating, unmoved by the noise. Sometimes I’m the role model—detached, not giving a shit, watching the field from above, observing the shit-show become a thing. Sometimes I intervene, only if my energy is ready. It’s a yo-yo.
But deeper than that is this:
As an Aquarius rising, I’m the embodiment of a transmitter of future codes. With Uranus, its ruler, landing in the seventh abode, all my relationship values crack open new realities—or distort them entirely. They rarely reflect me clearly. With my South Node in the eleventh, carrying the same archetype, I’ve already done the group, the system, the collective rhythms. My path now, on the fifth house, is the opposite. To individuate—inside or outside of it.
So yes, it feels anachronic.
But not outdated—just outside the expected clock.
I move according to resonance, not calendar. People who try to meet me in linear time often miss me entirely—until something in them finally catches the frequency.
It’s about being on a signal others haven’t found yet. Neither being early or late.
So I need resonance.I don’t need more attention.
I’m being seen—just at a frequency most people haven’t tuned into yet.

Frequency, Vibration, and the Breath of Heaven
Frequency, although related to time, is not time. It measures an event across time—cycles per second—so it expresses a relationship to time, but it is not time itself. It is tempo, not duration.
« La durée pure est la forme que prend la succession de nos états de conscience quand notre moi se laisse vivre, quand il s’abstient d’établir une séparation entre son état présent et ses états antérieurs. »
(Henri Bergson, Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience, 1889)"Pure duration is the form which the succession of our conscious states assumes when our “ego” or perception of oneself lets itself live, when it refrains from separating its present state from its former states."
(Henri Bergson, Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness, 1910)
Frequency belongs closer to Kairos than to Chronos—to the ripe, organic moment, not the linear ticking.
In Daoist cosmology, frequency is the pulse of the Dao (The Way) moving through form.
It’s the rhythm of the soul expressing itself—unfolding, not unfolding in sequence.
Kairos is the qualitative time of divine timing—ripe, aligned, and meaningful.
Chronos is the quantitative time of sequence—measured, linear, and scheduled.
« La durée est le progrès continu du passé qui ronge l’avenir et qui gonfle en avançant. »
(Gilles Deleuze, Le Bergsonisme, 1966)"Duration is the continuous progress of the past which gnaws into the future and which swells as it advances."
(Gilles Deleuze, Bergsonism, 1988)
Time is sequential measure. Frequency is patterned recurrence.
You can live at a high frequency and still move slowly. You can move fast and vibrate low. Frequency is not velocity—it is refinement in motion.
Vibration, on the other hand, is related to space, but it is not space. Vibration needs space to move—through air, body, ether—but it is not bound by it, not shaped by it. It creates form through movement, without needing dimension.
In Daoist alchemy, vibration is Qi in motion—the invisible trembling that gives rise to experience.
Space is dimensional expanse. Vibration is oscillation through space, or even creating space.
Vibration is presence without location. It moves, but it is not displacement. It can be measured, but it cannot be held. You can locate it, but its meaning lies in placement, not position.
Wavelength is the distance between two peaks in a wave. It is inversely proportional to frequency—the higher the frequency, the shorter the wavelength.
Symbolically, wavelength speaks to rhythmic compatibility. When two beings are "on the same wavelength," it means their fields are resonant. It is the geometry of relational coherence.
Magnetism is the force produced by moving electric charges—part of the electromagnetic field, tied to polarity, alignment, and attraction.
But magnetism is more than physics. It is attraction without force. In Daoist cosmology, it aligns with yin—receptive, drawing in without demand. It is the field of essence, pulling experience toward itself without seeking.
Tuning is the adjustment of frequency to match a desired resonance. We tune instruments so waveforms align harmonically.
Energetically, tuning is the process of bringing self into harmony—internally (mind, body, spirit) or externally (in relationships, work, offerings). In Daoist inner alchemy, tuning aligns with the Three Treasures: Tian (Heaven), Di (Earth), Ren (Human).
Tuning restores rhythm. Tuning is discipline without rigidity.
Resonance occurs when one object vibrating at a specific frequency causes another to vibrate in sympathy. It’s a transfer of energy through alignment. In music, resonance creates overtones, standing waves, amplification.
But in subtle systems, resonance is recognition—when two frequencies align, something opens.
In Daoist inner alchemy, resonance happens when Qi flows unimpeded through Jing (essence) and Shen (spirit), restoring wholeness.
In Daoist Cosmology: All of these—frequency, vibration, magnetism, tuning, resonance—are expressions of the Dao’s movement through polarity (Yin/Yang) and transformation (Wu Wei).
The Dao does nothing, yet leaves nothing undone.
Frequency and resonance are not about effort. They are about alignment.
Between the breath we are born with, and the breath we leave with—everything is vibrating.
The Ten Thousand Things arise from the interplay of rhythm and motion—what we call the Breath of Heaven.-
Somatic Practice and the Void
At first, I was hesitant about writing this—about being so openly fragile and vulnerable about how I feel sometimes. But I’ve been working a lot on the way this void actually feels. That was my Venus retrograde. The physical, the somatic reality of what absence triggers.
And although I’ve had experiences and gathered insights, I’m not planning to share them all—just to bring through the essence of the feeling. The real one. The physical one. The one that lives in the body.
I talk more about it in my recent podcast with Kyle, which I’ll link below. He asked me how I practice this—how I stay present. I was still inside Venus retrograde when he asked, and listening back to the episode inspired me to write this.
So let me describe what happens.
Something gets triggered in me—like I’m waiting for something, or I’m expecting something to happen because something has already been initiated. A conversation. A collaboration. A subtle invitation. It doesn’t really matter what. What matters is: it began.
There’s a rhythm. A back and forth. A mutual exchange.
And then, all of a sudden—one side stops.
No “I need time.”
No “this isn’t for me.”
Just flatline. Silence.
At first, I give it time.
I stay neutral. I notice the ping-pong stopped.
But if I’m not centered in my own space—if I’m tired or tender or stretched thin—I begin to feel it in my body. A kind of black hole just above my stomach. A void that feels like it might swallow me. It invites me in—to drop down into the story that something must be wrong, that I said too much, that I said it wrong, that I shouldn’t have reached out. Blah, blah, blah.
My mind starts pacing backward, asking: What did I do?
And honestly, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. It’s part of being in integrity. I want to know that I’ve been clear, kind, clean in my communication. That I’m not betraying myself. That I’m not being taken advantage of—or doing it to someone else.
So yes, I review.
I check the shape of the interaction.
I check my tone, their tone.
I feel it out.
But sometimes the void is bigger than a review.
Sometimes it’s not reflective—it’s consuming.
That’s when I start to drown in it.
That’s when it becomes sensation, not story.
When that happens, I place one hand on my belly. I breathe.
I say: It’s okay to feel this.
And I name it.
That’s something I learned years ago in Buddhist practice: awareness of breath, awareness of thoughts, awareness of sensation.
And then: insight.
I used to skip sensation. I didn’t understand how to feel what I was feeling. But years later, after studying somatic work—Gabor Maté, Bessel van der Kolk, Peter Levine, Stephen Porges, Betsy Polatin—I finally got it. The body is where the truth lives. The void isn’t abstract. It’s visceral.
Vipassanā, the Pāli term for “clear seeing” or “insight,” is a foundational Buddhist meditation practice that cultivates awareness of breath, thoughts, and bodily sensations to develop insight into impermanence, suffering, and non-self, as outlined in the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta (The Discourse on the Foundations of Mindfulness).
So I let the void be there.
And slowly, I remember: this is not reality.
It’s the mind spinning in a dark room without light.
I return.
I ask myself again:
Do I still believe I’m not worth it?
Do I still feel unseen?
Or was I just holding my breath for too long in someone else’s silence?
Because here’s the truth: most of the time, I’m in the sixth line.
I’m aloof. I’m busy. I’m sovereign. I’m not trying to fix it or save it. I’ve learned what’s mine and what’s not.
And other times, I’m deep in the second line—cocooned, quiet, inside my own rhythm. I create because I love life. Not because I need a response.
That’s how it works.
That’s how I work.
The Shape of Silence and the Rhythm of the Void
So maybe the reason I’m writing this now is not to conclude anything, but to show what opened.
I’ve been reflecting on what this Venus retrograde gave me—forty days of silence from March 1st until April 12th. Shadow and inner audit. A meditation on value, on absence, on initiation. And remember, Mercury was also retrograde. This was a rare moment where both planets began their retrogrades in Aries and ended in Pisces—movement from assertion into dissolution back to assertion. This is where we are now…
Now that Venus has returned to the degree where she began her descent—back in Aries—it feels different.
It’s not a return to what was.
It’s pure, raw individuation.
It’s clarity.
It’s a pulse of forward motion that doesn’t need consensus to begin.
And here I am, making note of what is and what is not—to live in fear, not; to live in peace—to align to frequency, not to aimless effort.
I try no more.
I create a space where creativity thrives.
There are 45 days until June 15, 2025—a date I was given in meditation—and I have clarity.
Yet several things need to be dissolved.
Gate 2 is happening while I write this: dislocation.
It is important to know when one is disoriented and needs to re-magnetize with the flow of life.
Too many wacky things happening.
Too many fake gurus, loud, screaming.
Too many distractions.
Grounding.
Disoriented or out of whack?
When Gate 2 is off, you lose your sense of direction.
You feel unmotivated, uncertain, or aimless—like you’re moving but not going anywhere meaningful.
There’s often a strong urge to control or figure it all out, but that only makes it worse.
Don’t force clarity.
Follow your authentic self—in my case, emotional clarity and informing.
That’s how direction reveals itself.
Gate 2 is about receptivity, not control.
When you align with your design, the next step becomes obvious.
This week’s full moon in Scorpio brings culmination to the intentions set during the Taurus new moon—specifically around embodiment, value, and where we root ourselves. The Moon is conjunct Juno and Vesta, calling attention to the sacred agreements we make in silence—the deep devotion to soul work, to evolution that is deep and intense.
Black Moon Lilith in Scorpio adds edge, daring us to face what’s been hidden, what’s still unclaimed. The Sun, now in Taurus, approaches Uranus, marking a moment of realignment—sudden truths through the body, through sensation, through rupture. The South Node in Virgo grounds this lunation in precision, inviting clarity through discernment—not just of what’s expired, but of what’s been micromanaged or overworked in the psyche.
Mars in Leo brings unapologetic momentum in relationship and expression. Pluto is now retrograde in Aquarius, beginning a longer arc of review: collective structures, future timelines, soul contracts.
And as Saturn and Ceres conjoin at the final degrees of Pisces—just before crossing into Aries—we stand at the threshold of a subtle but immense shift. These are the final moments of dissolution, of surrender, of cleaning the inner altar. They remind us that the most potent nourishment comes from spiritual discipline—from caring for the unseen, for that mysterious connection we all crave.
The void, which so often feels like absence—as I described earlier in this piece—is also something we construct when we forget the frequency of light. When we align with the frequency of authenticity, of divinity, of God, this void is no longer felt as darkness, but as light. It becomes our reconnection to source—a spaciousness that carries presence, not loss.
To embody the darkness somatically is to ground it—
to meet it as a felt sense, not a story.
This is the right vibration to move forward into the unknown.
And if you feel any of this in your own rhythm—if you’ve been sensing the void, the pulse, the break, the clarity—I trust you’ll know what to do with it.
Or what not to do.
That’s the other kind of knowing.
Unlocking Authenticity, Creativity, and Financial Freedom as an Artist
I'm so inspired by Kyle. We met at Adopting Bitcoin in El Salvador—he came to a talk I gave, dragged by a friend who knew a bit about my work because he’d done an astrology reading with me. Kyle told me recently he was captivated by the subject matter—Prometheus, time cycles, astrology. We talk about it on his podcast We Are Satoshi. We met again in Medellín during another Bitcoin conference, and he bought my book. What was beautiful is that he not only read it—he notated the places that prompted his own inquiry that led to this podcast invitation.
This is the kind of reader I appreciate—someone who jumps into a new subject and allows themselves to be discovered through it, even if it feels a little woo-woo. Maybe I’m not great at preaching to the choir. I don’t think people already deep into astrology, Bitcoin, or other specific subjects are going to appreciate the book as much as someone who can see the synthesis. Am I saying my book is not for everyone? I speak from the heart. But synthesis and polymathy can shy folk away.
I dare you.
Monika Bravo is a polymath and multidisciplinary artist. We recorded this episode in April 2025 during the installation of "Arcana," Monika's newest art arrangement at the University of Washington Interdisciplinary Engineering Building. In this episode we discuss a broad range of topics including:
Introduction and Monika's Background [00:00]
The Process of Individuation [5:10]
From Artist to Bitcoiner to Free Human [12:34]
The Layers to Understanding Bitcoin [17:23]
How to Know if You're Being Authentic? [20:22]
Finances as an Artist [26:02]
The Power of Critical Thinking [35:00]
A Major Astrological Transition [49:59]
What Do YOU Bring to the World? [1:05:13]
Prometheus Story [1:16:56]
Michael Saylor's Astro Chart (glimpse) [1:23:02]
Achievement vs. Purpose [1:28:49]
Why Bitcoiners Want to Spread the Love [1:37:31]
Systems for Harnessing Creativity [1:44:59]
Public Art Projects [1:51:03]
Critiques of Modernism and Contemporary Art [1:55:35]
Do You Want to be an Artist or Be Free? [2:04:10]
Letting Go of Traumas [2:08:45]
Evolving Through Relationships [2:20:11]
Why Adaptability Matters [2:25:41]
Questi on on the 2nd Coming of Christ [2:32:00]
Synchronicities and Alignment [2:41:14]
Polymatheia [2:51:48]
"An investment in knowledge pays the best interest" - Benjamin Franklin
As a bonus I am uploading gene key-hexagram- gate number two. May the wisdom of the taoist paradigm provide some insights.
3 LINKS from my notes/substack feed:
There is no spoon, instead try to realize the truth
In 1999, or the year 2000, whenever The Matrix came out, I remember watching the movie and being completely mesmerized. But one of the reasons why I was so mesmerized is because I used to be high as …
The Power of Questioning What We Think We Know
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