Why This Rune Reader ‘Reverse Plans’ Her Day

If you’d asked me a few years ago how I welcomed a new day, I would’ve rattled off a checklist: what needs to be done, what must be scheduled, what’s urgent and what’s not. I thought a structure schedule  and curated life was strength. I believed that manifesting my future meant controlling it before it even arrived.

But somewhere along my spiritual path, I began to dance to a different rhythm. It was a kind of sacred tempo that doesn’t rush or demand. That doesn’t forecast before it senses and feels.

Today, I want to share that magical alternative rhythm with you. I call it reverse planning. It’s not a rigid system, but an invitation to trust time the way a rune whispers its truth.

Our modern culture tends to treat calendars like hammers. We use them to nail down the future with agendas, meetings, goals, and deadlines. On paper, life appears orderly, efficient, and decided. But for many of us, that creates a low-level anxiety that’s hard to name.

We wake up already carrying the weight of what hasn’t even happened yet. The day feels predetermined before we’ve had a chance to participate in it.

As someone who reads runes, symbols that speak across the ancient thresholds of time, I’ve come to believe that true guidance rarely comes in the form of a command. Instead, it arrives quietly, in the pauses, in the spaces between breaths. That’s where reverse planning begins: with presence, not pressure.

Every morning, rather than diving into a to-do list of tasks, I pull a single rune to sit with. Not to predict the day, but to feel into its energy. It’s a subtle shift, but it makes all the difference. Instead of asking, “What do I need to do today?” I ask, “How do I want to arrive in this day?”

Going with the flow does not mean you sit back passively and expect everything to work out. Going with the flow means you don’t cause yourself stress by fighting changes that are out of your control ~ Yung Pueblo

With a cup of tea and an open calendar, mostly blank except for a few soft reminders, I let the day unfold naturally. I don’t try to fill the page before the day even begins. That space is intentional. It’s not emptiness for its own sake, but room for intuition to lead.

The real magic of reverse planning is in when I write things down. Instead of planning events in advance, I record them after they happen. If, say, a friend calls at 10:15 and we have a spontaneous conversation about her spiritual path, I’ll write it in afterward:

“10:15–10:45. Heart call with Sam.”

Even though it wasn’t on the schedule, it held value and deserves to be noted. I do this throughout the day for conversations, quiet work sessions, focused writing, creative sparks, and yes, even those transitional moments when I just need to stare out the window and think of nothing.

Reverse planning slowly fills the calendar as the day progresses: not with tasks I pressured myself to complete, but with a truthful record of what actually moved through me.

As a rune-caster, I know the tiniest symbols can carry the deepest meaning. Likewise, in this practice, nothing is too small to acknowledge. A quick decision, a short message sent, a flash of clarity while folding laundry…it all matters. When we record these subtle shifts, we give them a place to land. We honor them.

This alternatice approach to time reminds me of the Perthro rune: a symbol of the unknown, of mysteries unfolding in their own time. It is the rune of fate, intuition, and the hidden patterns that shape our lives. Perthro teaches us that not everything must be planned in advance to hold meaning.

Spiritually, I also believe presence expands where attention is offered. When our daily actions go unnoticed, they fade into forgetfulness, often taking our sense of self-worth with them. But when we take a moment to witness what moved through us, we integrate and affirm it. And that changes everything.

Trusting the universe means surrendering to the flow of life and having faith that everything is happening exactly as it should. It means releasing control and letting go of the need to know what’s coming next ~ Bernadette Logue

Each evening, I return to the day’s entries. I fill in any details I may have missed and include even the moments of stillness or rest. Then, in what has become a small but meaningful ritual, I pick up a red pen and check everything off. The color feels vibrant and alive!

The act isn’t about productivity or discipline. It’s about completion. It’s a sacred way of saying to the day: I was here. I lived this. I didn’t rush through it or bypass it. I received it, with grace and gratitude.

Over time, this practice gently builds something that’s rare and beautiful: self-empowerment. Not in the way we usually hear about it in a performance-based or achievement-driven way, but as a quiet, inner trust. A sense that we are capable of responding to life as it arrives, moment by moment.

So many people feel like they aren’t doing enough, not because they’re idle, but because they’re never really seeing all they do hold, shift, carry, and complete each day. Reverse planning helps make life visible and tangible. Those red checkmarks become more than just completions symbols. They become affirmations, mystical symbols of movement, magical reminders that you followed through on what arose, even if it wasn’t on a list.

If you’re worried about the “important” things falling through the cracks without a detailed plan, I understand. That was my worry too, at first. But what I’ve learned is this: when the pressure to perform is removed, our natural readiness rises.

We begin doing what matters not out of obligation, but from alignment. Things flow more easily and resistance softens. Often, within just a few days of letting go of the old mode of planning ahead, we start meeting our tasks with more energy and clarity than before.

And perhaps the best part? Mornings no longer feel heavy or daunting. I wake up without that anticipatory stress of needing to conquer the entire day before it’s even begun. Instead, I open my heart and mind to possibility. The present moment is allowed to greet me in its own time. It’s a gift I never expected, but one I now treasure deeply.