Aspen Life Coach Reveals How to Break Unconscious RFTA Bus Habits

What does it mean when your internal navigation system fails you, even though you’re sure you’re driving?

That’s the question haunting the local life coach who’s been spending her mornings on the RFTA bus, watching the same streets she’s driven for years, and realizing she’s been running on autopilot.

It’s not just a spiritual exercise. It’s a practical problem. You know you’re tired. You know you’re stressed. But you keep making the same choices — eating the junk food, streaming another show instead of sleeping, pushing until your body shuts down. Why?

Because, as the author of the "Moon Mondays" column in the Aspen Times puts it, you’re not actually conscious. You’re just surviving.

“I thought I was aware. I was smart. I devoured self-help books,” she writes. “I dipped my toes into multiple spiritual practices. I imagined I was doing better than most.”

The wake-up call wasn’t a grand revelation. It was judgment. Specifically, the judgment she held against life coaching. She’d dismissed it until it forced its way into her view, revealing that her "hyperawareness" of trauma was actually just a sophisticated way of hiding from the present moment.

“Once I understood the undesired patterns driving my RFTA bus were rooted in old unconscious beliefs, I grabbed the wheel back,” she says.

The metaphor holds up for anyone who’s ever felt stuck in the same loop. The "bus" here is the daily grind — the commute, the routine, the habits that feel automatic. When you stop driving deliberately, you start squeegeeing the windows of your mind, clearing away the mud of hidden thoughts. But until you do, you’re just moving, not going anywhere.

This week, the stars are supposedly aligning to help. Mercury, described as our "internal software system," is moving into Taurus. It’s a slower-moving mental process. It’s about feeling, not just thinking. It’s about how we attune to our vision and craft dreams in physical reality.

“The sun is our light and vision, Mercury, our thoughts and communication,” the article notes. “In Taurus, these two bring greater awareness to our bodies.”

The key event is a "cazimi" alignment on Thursday morning. It’s an ancient term meaning "in the heart of the sun." The idea is that the planet, and our unconsciousness; gets purified by fiery solar rays. It’s a moment to stop jabbing ourselves with the pinprick of pain and actually look at what’s broken.

But here’s the catch. The universe isn’t going to fix your budget or your commute. It’s just going to ask you a simple, uncomfortable question: Are there dreams you’ve been ignoring?

“You don’t have to act yet,” the column advises. “Just land on what’s really going on with your desires and aspirations. Be honest with yourself.”

It’s easy to dismiss this as fluff. But consider the cost of unconscious living. It’s the extra hours spent on the RFTA bus staring out the window, knowing you could be doing something else but feeling too drained to change. It’s the junk food that costs more than you think. It’s the collapse that forces you out of work.

The Taurus new moon on Saturday is the deadline. It’s an ideal time to set an intention. Not a grand, world-changing plan. Just a admission. A willingness to stop lying to yourself about what you want.

“Knowledge changed everything,” the author writes. “Patterns - like eating junk, streaming far more than I wanted and pushing myself to the point of collapse. started shifting once I sat my conscious adult mind in the driver’s seat and began steering myself deliberately.”

That’s the promise. If you can admit the dream, even the small, embarrassing one, you can start steering. The rest is just execution.

“The intention is ultimately to wake us up,” the column concludes. “Nothing like the pinprick of pain to motivate us to stop jabbing ourselves.”

The locals will have to decide if they’re listening. But for now, the bus is running. The windows are getting cleaned. And the question is no longer whether you’re aware. It’s whether you’re willing to admit what you’ve been hiding from yourself all along.