the weather inside me

Good-bye, Gemini! Mars in Cancer now (thank god!)

There's a whole lot more afoot than Mars changing signs today, but here's a curious thing: through the latter half of August Mars was passing by my daughter's Gemini Moon, and BOY! was she ready to rumble; but we may have turned a corner with Mars moving into Cancer.

Only two days into the school year we were again getting notes about her temper and stomping off. Then last night she had a massive melt-down as Mars finished its last degree in Gemini.

Today, though, as she came home with a note: "Very subdued today and improved dramatically, cooperating with teachers and assistants." Granted, she did sleep for nearly 12 hours after her huge cry last night, and a good cry does dissipates a child's random nervous energy. But Mars passing over one's Moon would likely disrupt one's sleep more than usual. And my daughter's sleep has been usually poor the last couple of weeks.

So. Mars is out of her Moon sign and we see a change. This is worth noting and tracking for future reference. If I see a calmer child, I'll be grateful to know this cycle won't return until the summer of 2011. Maybe then I'll be better prepared.

I'm thinking karate camp.

sun in virgo: the harvest of work and finally! the end (almost) to the mexican stand-off in the skies

The Sun entered the sign of Virgo today, and yes, I feel the difference.

Summer is over for us here, even if it's still warm. At the farmer's market late season zucchini and beans are plentiful. As is the basil. Two dollars and fifty cents will buy me a luscious armful of emerald green leaves which I will chop into pesto and freeze for this winter's pasta comfort casseroles. I love late summer basil.

In a different age I would be "putting up" the last of the garden, sweating out my days in a steamy kitchen until the last of the green beans and summer tomatoes got canned. Instead I have my agenda out and I'm plotting a new work schedule around my daughter's school life.

I am ready to work.

This is the essence of Virgo, a willingness to work. Virgo is the Handmaiden of the Harvest. In the Northern Hemisphere we see this time as the season of harvest. It also signals a time of pulling inward and taking inventory of what we do and don't have in our cupboards --mental or otherwise.

Inventorying is also one of Virgo's specialities. Wherever Virgo functions in our life we want to count heads and pennies and beans; our errors and flaws we scrutinize and pick and poke and frankly, obsess about. Virgo wants to count the cellulite dimples in your thighs, the cans in your pantry, and the band-aids in your bathroom drawer. All in order and ready for hard weather? Is everything filed, labeled and stapled in proper order? Do you know how many calories are optimal for your body type? The ideal foods for your blood type? Would you like one lump or two in your coffee? And do let me help you find the coat closet before you soil my good carpet with your boots.

Virgo is the industrious ant scrabbling to and fro with, building its larder for the winter while fat and sassy grasshoppers play away in the late summer sun. Sometimes Virgos feel a little put-upon, knowing that others will eventually take advantage of their industry and forethought. Usually, though Virgo knows just what to do and will put the others to work before that becomes a problem.

The caricature of Virgos is the nebbish neurotic, or alternately, the naggish neurotic who is forever finding fault in the smallest detail of every dust mote that passes by their noses. 

Woody Allen's screen persona also comes to mind here, which is funny. Virgos (and the Virgoan part of your life) can been very, very funny about their observations. This probably comes after a few years in therapy. Mental health is Virgo's domain as well. Virgo is fascinated with flaws, and human beings, flawed as they are are a double gusher well-hole of ridiculousness the Virgo loves to exploit. Unfortunately, often times Virgo sees the speck, but can't see their own logs.

[Virgo manages a Mexican stand-off. Cartoonbank.com]

Now comes the Virgo angle to this past month. Because although the Sun just ingressed Virgo, we've been feeling Virgo's work these past three weeks.

August has been an edgy month for most of us. Strike that. It's been a Mexican stand-off up there in the heavenly hosts all month. If we had any sense of humor about it, there's probably lots of human foible-ry we could laugh about in future days. You know, that day, sometime after everyone decides to drop their sidearms. But for now I imagine many of us have been fighting (or indulging) the impulse to find the fault in others while also neglecting our own bad behavior/faulting thinking. And the fingers (or the gun barrels) have been pointing in all directions. Yes? 

Some of this is because Mercury (the planet symbolizing thought and communication and business) has spent most of the month within spanking distance to Saturn (now finishing it's tour through Virgo). Saturn gives us a heavy feeling of duty and authority (Saturn is "she who must be obeyed"); add Virgo into the mix and you could have spent most of August in guilting mode --either dishing it out to others or heaping it onto yourself.

Midway through the month Mercury in Virgo also engaged in a little flare-up with Uranus in Pisces --which to me felt like my accountant (if I had one) showing up to finish the taxes the afternoon I decided to have a three-margharita lunch. There's a particular ideal I'm crawling toward and the whole thing got so exhausting this month that a little r'n'r didn't sound so bad. That is, until Mercury in Virgo (with Saturn, Snape-like) showed up again asking me for details on how, exactly, I was gonna pull of this magical (Pisces) revolution (Uranus).

[Mars negotiates a Mexican stand-off. Battlestar Galactica, Universal Television.]

 And to finish off this trifecta of aggravation, Mars spent most of the month in the sign of Gemini, squaring Mercury in Virgo. Mars in Gemini reminds me of a guy with the DTs who got handed a hammer --or a semi-automatic. (Do I shoot at this target or that target?!?) Lots of impulses, very little control. Now throw in Virgo as the project boss sent to inspect (or pick, pick, pick apart) the work. Perhaps this duo kept you hopping through a half-dozen projects, a half-dozen possible solutions, all of which led (you think) nowhere. Jittery stuff there, seriously.

(Here's a thought: Imagine your angriest moments this month --they're a clue about what you're detoxing. Here's another thought: what you're detoxing is not actually about what angered you. There are at least two issues at play and one may be masking the other one.)

Whatever you do, don't think of this month as a series of dead-ends. Or dead anything. (I am reminding myself of this even as I type.) No, this month was about mutating --a time our for blending the summer's lessons and revelations into a new mix of inspiration, revelations and opportunities. Think of yourself as a chemist. Think of yourself as an artist. Think of yourself as a dot-to-dot whiz kid finally getting The Point of all these summer eclipse upheavals.

Do not think of mob hits.

If you're clear sighted enough, you know this instability is not all about you. And if you're compassionate enough, you know you're in the same unstable boat with the rest of us. And if you're smart enough, you're staying cool around the Captain Blighs who can't navigate their own dinghies through these choppy times and like to blame you for their own lack of direction or neurosis/turpitude.

Because it's harvest time, collection time. Haul in the fishing nets and count the cod time. Yes, I'm returning to that metaphor. Mercury will leave Virgo this week, but will return again September 18th for a couple of weeks. This will feel a little like cramming before finals week because another planet in Virgo, Saturn, will be preparing to leave the sign of Virgo. No doubt about it, September will feel like a month of heavy shifts in direction. More about that later, but for now get ready to review whatever life lessons you may have learned since Saturn entered Virgo September 2nd, 2007.

You've been working hard on your Virgo self since September 2007. You're almost done with this passage. The Virgo Sun is shining: pack up the firearms and pick up the pitchfork --make hay!

[Top Illustration: Isabella and a Pot of Basil, William Holman Hunt. Note: I do not love basil this much, almost.]

time out and t-squares

This summer's been a real smasher. And boy do I mean that. In fact, my future met up with me even before the summer did, and it's been sort of non-stop since then, even if my life wasn't loaded with activity.

What, then, was it loaded with? Growth. A lot of personal growth. Stuff pouring out of my head in such a pace that I haven't even had time to process and describe it. I think I've been collecting it all in one ear. Some of these thoughts have been about what/how/why I'm doing this blog.

I'll try to address these thoughts in the series I proposed last month. Am still planning on writing that series but it's been held up.

One of the reasons I don't write frequent and/or lengthy articles here is partly because of this summer's swirling energy, and partly because out of necessity and an awareness of her particular needs right now, I've dedicated this summer to my daughter.

In a few days we'll be leaving for another trip, this time to D.C. I'm really looking forward to it. While we're gone and immediately after we return some interesting astrology will happen. (As if the summer's eclipses weren't enough for you.)

The first event is what we call a mutable t-square. Don't worry about the terminology, but do remember this: it's blending/refining/improvising/assimilating energy.

Astrology recognizes three basic phases of process, kind of like three types of energy: first is cardinal energy, which starts a process; second is fixed, which stabilizes the process; and third is mutable, which refines and assimilates the process for the next stage...which is cardinal, starting the whole cycle again.

Think about it this way, like cooking. First we choose the ingredients --some leeks and potatoes, herbs and milk (we start something); then we cut and measure the ingredients (we stabilize the impulse with the right proportions); then we cook them together in the pot with a little milk and herbs (we blend the materials into something new) --and voila! Vichyssoise.

Our lives are a cycle of soup-making.

By mid-August we'll be in the thick of a significant blending moment, the kind of energy that lets us bring together a collection of ideas and impulses we've gathered this summer and cook them into something a little different. Or a lot different, depending on how aware you've been about this summer's shifts. Whatever's going on for you, this is a good time to be aware of synthesis and transition. I would imagine that you'll also be able to finally connect a few dots that eluded your thinking up to now.

The second event happens August 26th/27th. This is a cardinal t-square in action. If you remember the  lesson above, you'll remember that cardinal means initiating energy. So what we have are two very dynamic events in a row --an assimilating event followed by an activating event. This is excellent for anyone who's connect the dots of their own personal development. Seeing a new picture, you can then move forward with the next step. The image I see is that you will move forward, but with what sort of grace --who knows? That's up to you.

Fear can make our movements ungainly and downright painful. If you're feeling like an awkward ostrich (and that's pretty awkward!) it might be a good idea to take a peek at what fears you're fighting right now.

Robert Wilkinson, at Aquarius Papers has these thoughts on big steps forward, apropos of this summer's activity:

Every defeat, as well as every victory, represents a fulfillment. Since there's really nothing left to pursue in either case (except Self-Realization arising from seeing the experience in its deeper meaning), that puts us at a point of choice in life. We've already finished that set of life lessons and are confronting the emptiness of pure potential. The trick is not to allow unhelpful responses to dominate the possibilities that are there.

Eventually everybody finds themselves at various life crossroads. Since we are programmed to fear (or at least be suspicious of) the unknown, we naturally want the future to relate to the past in some better but familiar way. This conditions our attitude about unknown possibilities, and often limits the infinite potential from coming forth.

[...]

If we willingly avoid looking at our power to choose to change patterns, then our lives stay stuck in past patterns until we are forced by circumstances to change. On the other hand, we can also choose to welcome unknown possibilities, moving into our potential to grow into higher awareness. That yields opportunities to become more skillful in applying our spiritual intelligence in our life, which in turn yields knowledge and understanding.

If you want to read the rest, it's here. But I think the salient point is above: "we naturally want the future to relate to the past in some better but familiar way." (That's what resonated with me, anyway.) But what if it's not? What if this future defies anything in your imagination? Can you imagine that? Maybe not, and I guess that's the point.

I'm not painting stardust here. This could be as simple as considering a different car, a different college, or choosing to finally date that guy you thought was a geek but might...not be. It's usually the simple choices we make that eventually define our lives.

Assumptions and expectations also define our lives. We live our blueprints of assumptions and expectations, don't we? And then we moan about our two dimensional lives, plotted out by some other, unseen (and no doubt, unkind) hand. Entrapped by our fears we want to know --we want the blueprint-- and we dare not fiddle with a single wall or window. Because that will cost something.

Life is 3-D. It's fine to start with a blueprint, but nothing really exciting happens until you build.

Catch you later.

pisces moon solution to your dreary life

(Speaking of laundry.)

Re-purpose the dreary compartments of your life with a little whimsy....

after the ecstacy, the laundry: the post eclipse report

Been out of pocket for weeks now, taking in and thinking about the summer's eclipse series. Threaded through those moments were additional thoughts about the expectations we have for grand events like these.

Thoughts like, are they grand, these events? And, do we really believe the change anything?

If I took an inventory of the events in the lives of my friends and family this past month, I'd be inclined to say yes. But you could argue a case for circumstantial evidence. It could only be a strange synchrony that this past month seems jam packed with endings: marriages ended (or nearly ended); business partners split; grand plans went down in smoke. And then we saw a string of high-profile deaths. But then no day goes without a death and break-ups happen all the time. So?

So.

I could also offer my own experience --a series of wonderful moments, almost suspending time, held me aloft in a kind of...potential. Completely absent of any neurotic preoccupation over if/when/how/why it I was feeling that way or would feel that way again.

Let me be specific: over the eclipse I visited an old friend and for the first time in a very, very, very long time felt REAL again. Doesn't sound specific enough, coz what is "real" anyway, right? Oh, well. If you've ever had the experience, you would understand. It's more than the pizza, the gelato, the block party and children's kites; it's more than the long walks or the kitties or the raspberries so red and bright in the back yard. It was feeling like I'd finally decided to inhabit my body again. Thought conjoined nerve and muscle, connected to skin and then b-r-e-a-t-h-e-d.

And that, my friend, doesn't happen all the time.

I'm inclined to think these eclipses did end a few things, but I doubt I'll miss anything I've given up.

And then came the return home and the laundry...the inevitable laundry. Not only the real laundry that comes at the end of every trip, but the washing up of thoughts you brought home with you too. Sort of like scrubbing and sorting the souvenirs.

{Me, before the eclipse series}

Before I press this metaphor any further, let me tell you --I hate laundry. I hate it I hate it. It's the chief symbol of domesticity I resent more than anything. There's a moment I remember clearly from the earliest days of my daughter's infancy, when I collapsed over a huge pile of laundry, sobbing in a sea of self-pity, thinking, "This is my life now. I'm gonna rot all by myself in this house, sorting fucking socks."

I think I've come to some kind of detente with this chore and all the resentment and symbolism it embodies. This may sound a little overblown, and you can say a banana is sometimes just a banana, but for me socks are never just socks. Socks are not a good book. Socks are not articles. Or creamy new sheet of watercolor paper. Socks are not making plans and meeting with people. Socks are not interesting discussions or even frustrating debates. Socks are not a paycheck or even the promise of a paycheck. What was once a peripheral and occasional annoyance in my life was suddenly...my life. Seven years later I've come to an understanding that the resentment and the symbolism was something of my own making. I assigned it. I suppose even then I knew I was jacking with my own head, but it's taken time for me to see it.

And this matters because...? Well it matters because I'm still sorting socks and I will continue to sort socks for the rest of my life. I've accepted some things, like laundry, will endure in my world and I don't have to like them, but that's okay too.

A week after my return I was living the sequel to The Battle of The Sock Pile. Again with the hideous resentment, periodic outbursts of anger, chewing my lower lip to bits and waaaaay too much coffee.

But! And this is the important point: there was a kind of cool emotion at the back of all that, something I hadn't felt before --residue of that perfect peace I'd felt on my trip. And that sense of calm presence never totally drifted away even while I was fighting all my resentment demons on the surface of my emotions.

Somewhere in the back of my brain I was alive again. Really and truly.

{Me, after the eclipse series. Yah, right. How's about those shoes? So stylish for the local suds 'n' duds!}