3/28 Face the Fears you created
Today’s Mathematics for March 28th (3/28):
"Understanding is born of Knowledge."
3 = Understanding
28 = 2 + 8 = 10, which then reduces to 1 + 0 =
1 = Knowledge
Understanding + Knowledge = "Understanding is born of Knowledge."
Today carries the vibration of realizing the why behind the what. Knowledge is the foundation—facts, awareness, data, experience. But Understanding is the vision that makes it meaningful. It’s when information becomes wisdom, when patterns emerge, and when the mind sees beyond the surface.
It’s a day to ask:
What truths have I gathered?
What do they actually mean?
How do I use what I know to evolve how I see?
Understanding transforms raw knowledge into divine sight.
Today's Sagittarius Horoscope from Cafe Astrology
(Click the link above to get your own horoscope from cafe Astrology)
March 28, 2025
You may be seeking more pleasing or ideal conditions today, dear Sagittarius, and this can work out fine if you’re not anticipating far too much, too soon.
You can enjoy thinking or talking about the past, and you may be romanticizing it a little. Try to be content with leaving things open to interpretation and your mind open to options, as it's not the time to lock something down.
Avoid looking for clear answers, and it can be a highly creative and imaginative day. A lack of clear direction can be frustrating, but you need time to let things form and unfold.
A New Moon Solar Eclipse will occur tomorrow, and it will soon be a time for making improvements to your life that help restore balance.
Today, take the time to reflect and finish up projects that may interfere with your New Moon goals.
Creativity: Good ~ Love: Good ~ Business: Good
3/28 – Face the Fears You Created
I woke up this morning—tired, sleepy, yet unreasonably alert at my usual hour. The sunrise wore a deep orange robe, the kind that likely signals some sort of sailor’s warning… not that I know which one.
Today marks the last warm day for the foreseeable future. It'll be in the mid-fifties, which isn’t exactly balmy by most standards, but when you live in the high desert of Colorado, you take your wins where you can.
We're just a couple of weeks out from winter. Spring officially stepped onto the stage about a week ago, yet the cold still clings to us like a ghost reluctant to move on. It’ll have us in its grip for another month, at least.
The motorcycles are already rumbling to life. Meanwhile, I’ve half-abandoned my grand plans for maintenance and repairs. I had until April to get it all done, and now—surprise!—April is tiptoeing around the corner. I haven’t removed a single bolt, changed a drop of oil, or done a thing since winter threw its frosty cloak over everything back in December.
And so, FOMO creeps in with chilly fingers. I missed a perfect riding day recently—saw a whole pack of dudes out on twos, carving up the road like it owed them money. I’ll get out there today. For how long, or how far? I haven’t the faintest idea. Commitment makes me itchy.
That’s not to say I don’t want to do things. I actually like having a plan—so long as I’m the one writing it. But committing to the plan? That feels like signing a blood pact. I’d rather deal in soft promises. “See ya when I see ya,” that sort of thing.
I live in a place full of planners—people who don’t feel right unless there's a list to follow, like a sacred scroll of errands. Me? I also like having a list. But I prefer to be the general barking the orders… to myself.
You don’t tell me what to do, and I won’t tell you what to do.
And yet… paradoxically, I crave a leader. A boss. A guide to pilot this weary vessel. I want someone to tell me what to do and for how long. I want to shut off my brain and let someone—or something—else take the wheel.
That way, if the day flops, it’s not on me. I was just following orders, right?
But that’s a cop-out. Isn’t it?
We, the mild-mannered masses, often sacrifice our sovereignty for the comfort of irresponsibility. The world—its politics, its cultures, its ever-churning chaos—feels like a distant storm. We watch it, comment on it, shake our heads and say, “Not my problem.”
But when does that end? When do we realize that every moment, every breath, is a choice? That we volunteered for this strange stay on Earth?
Every experience—yes, even the painful, confusing, infuriating ones—is something we asked for. Our contract with this realm is to endure, to question, to rise. We are here to sift through the mud until we uncover the gold.
Here’s the trick: acknowledge that all of this is your choice. You chose this path to sculpt the best version of the divine being you are capable of becoming.
Once you see the design, the lesson becomes clear: the only way to stop the wheel from spinning is to learn what the situation is trying to teach you. Sink into the discomfort. Embrace the friction. Let the pain become your professor. Then, and only then, does the struggle begin to outgrow you.
In this little spiral of introspection, I’ve uncovered a truth: I have built a fortress of fear around human connection. I’ve become reluctant to commune with others. And that fear? That’s mine. Self-imposed. Crafted like armor that grew too comfortable.
Time to face it. Reach out. Phone a friend. Do the thing we all love to do—together.
But what, exactly, am I avoiding within this fear? And what treasures lie buried on the other side of it?
Have you ever stared down your fear, looked your demon square in the eye, and said with a crooked grin, “Bring it, bitch”?
Try it.
Then come back and tell me what wild adventure that defiant spark summoned to your doorstep.
