I was twelve months into building Jujagi when purple came into my life.
The original vision was clear. Share products that had fast results and cut through the sea noise. I was deep in self-experimentation – my body was becoming more and more sensitive to subtle energies. Something would either leave me feeling good or feeling bad – whether a glass of water, music playing in the background, or being in a room with someone.
I went through a period where I was experimenting with hundreds of different vegetables, fruits, roots and leaves. Living smoothies. Charging water, adding minerals – I felt incredibly alive and could feel the microbes, minerals and enzymes shift my resonance.
I'd then circle back to supplements, dried powders, alcohol tinctures, preserved products and I wouldn't feel that shift in resonance. So what was the difference?
Learning to trust my inner guidance led me down a path of "look here – try this – reflect on this – join that and that together – have a pause moment – let go of that."
Following the thread
At the time, life was pulling me in many directions. I had just arrived back home after spending Winter 2025 in FNQ. My guidance was really clear – I knew exactly where I needed to go. I dropped in at a friend's place unannounced – we drank tea and harvested Lemon Myrtle leaves in his garden.
There's a strange vulnerability in following guidance without certainty. You're moving forward on trust.
The day came.
It felt right to start with Lemon Myrtle. Something about the scent, the antimicrobial properties, the fact that it's native to this land. I had no idea what to expect. Maybe a pale yellow.
I was sitting beside a river. Car boot cracked open. A friend was with me at the time. Looking back at it – I feel the acknowledgement we gave to the plants opened up what unfolded next. We briefly spoke on a Bible verse before we began:
"On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations."
– Revelation 22:2
A few minutes later we began the experiment with the Lemon Myrtle leaves and the charged water.
And then, purple.
Deep, impossible purple.
"You should have seen the look on your face," my friend said. This wasn't supposed to happen. Lemon myrtle is a yellow-green plant. Citral is a pale compound. There was no logical reason for purple to appear. But there it was, luminous, like liquid light.
That moment – standing there watching purple emerge from clear waters – that was the threshold.
Recieving
Looking back, I realise the creator reveals what you're ready to see at the right moment. Not when you demand it. Not according to your timeline. But exactly when your work has prepared you to receive it.
Twelve months of following a thread I couldn't quite explain. Life threw distractions. But something kept pulling me back.
The reward came from starting. From taking action on guidance. The revelation came when I was ready to receive it.
Purple in nature
After that first extraction, I started seeing purple differently.
In nature, purple appears at precise moments. The ripening of fruit. The colors of dusk. Autumn leaves before they fall. It marks thresholds – those liminal spaces where one state is becoming another.
Anthocyanins, the compounds that create purple, appear when a plant is managing stress, adapting to temperature shifts, protecting what matters most. You'll find them concentrated around seeds – the plant's future – shielding genetic material from UV damage and oxidative stress.
Purple is expensive for plants to produce. It requires specific nutrients, particular soil depth, time. A plant only invests in purple when the situation demands it. When protection is necessary. When transition is happening.
Purple extraction
That impossible purple from lemon myrtle was information.
It showed me the cold charge process was accessing something no conventional extraction could achieve. Compounds that shouldn't be water-soluble were becoming so. Molecular forms that didn't exist in the original plant were appearing. Something beyond chemistry was being captured – a frequency, a coherence, a form of intelligence.
In traditional extraction, you get what's already water-soluble. Polar compounds dissolve, non-polar compounds don't, and you're left with a fraction of the plant's medicine. But purple showing up meant the boundaries were dissolving. Oil compounds were becoming water-compatible. Structures were reorganising.
The extract was entering a state between matter and energy.
Biophotons
There's something about the purple in these extracts that's different from purple dye. It has a luminosity – an almost inner light.
This connects to something called biophotons. Living cells emit coherent light at extremely low intensities. It's how they communicate at the speed of light rather than through slow chemical messengers. Anthocyanins are chromophores – molecules that interact with light at the quantum level.
When I look at that purple liquid now, I wonder if what I'm seeing isn't just reflected wavelengths but actual biophotonic emission. The plant's light, somehow captured in structured water. The electromagnetic signature of lemon myrtle's intelligence, visible.
Purple invites you inward
It appeared at my threshold – the moment between vision and manifestation, between faith and knowing. It marked the transition from "I think this might work" to "I'm experiencing something real."
And it keeps appearing. Rose petals extracted into deep magenta. Certain citrus creating violet tones. Each botanical revealing its threshold frequency through color.
Purple, I've learned, invites us inward. It asks us to notice what's emerging. To be present with transition. To recognize when we're standing at a doorway between what was and what's becoming.
Maybe you're at a threshold too.
Go slow to go fast
If I could speak to myself twelve months before that first extraction, I wouldn't tell myself to hurry up. I wouldn't reveal what's coming. I'd say – Trust your guidance. Follow the thread even when it doesn't make sense. The distractions will come – that's how you know you're onto something. Navigate back.
Purple appeared when I had emptied my cup.
The first lemon myrtle extract still sits in my lab. Still purple. Still luminous. Still impossible.