As
a kid I thoroughly enjoyed summer vacation — until about the
last three weeks, when I became whiney and impossible to please.
Which pretty well sums up my attitude in the final weeks before
I started back to school last month: After five months
with no externally imposed schedules, I had grown bored.
Boredom soon turned to crankiness, and before I knew it crankiness
had segued into a black depression—a condition which the prospect
of school and its schedules did little to alleviate.
Then classes began,
and almost immediately my attitude was completely transformed.
Yes, it was scary starting classes at a new school (I transferred
to university this semester), getting the hang of taking the
bus, figuring out where my classes were, and getting into
a routine. But with a sense of order to my days,
a feeling of working toward an important goal, I felt peaceful,
happy, and at ease for the first time in a month.
Here’s a paradox
of human nature: We long for the unstructured languor
of endless summer, but at the same time something inside us
screams out for structure and obligation, an external focus
for our energies, some daily irritant to galvanize us into
making a contribution. In short, we seek a reason
to get out of bed in the morning.
The kid in us
likes to have fun, play with fingerpaints, put on costumed
plays in the back yard—but there comes a point when play
ceases to engage us, and it’s time to parlay that creative
energy into something useful. Except...that sounds
like so much work!
So at summer’s
end we’re caught in a bit of a quandary; and that’s more
or less the feeling represented by the quincunx aspect,
symbolizing the natural relationship between the first and
sixth houses of the horoscope, Aries and Virgo: two equally
valid and compelling impulses pulling us in mutually exclusive
directions. In this case, we crave the freedom and autonomy
to do exactly as we please at all times, but at the same time
wish for the discipline to get things done, so we can feel
we’re making a productive contribution to the world.
It’s tempting
to think if you won the lottery tomorrow and never had to
work again, you’d do nothing but dance and jump for joy—and
for awhile, you probably would. But eventually the ghost
of summer vacations past would return to haunt you, and you’d
no doubt grow tired of endless revelry, like a child who has
grown jaded from a diet of candy bars and suddenly craves
vegetables.
Ask anyone who
has left a nine-to-five job to name the toughest obstacle
they faced in adjusting to their new lifestyle. You
might expect an answer involving diminished income level,
finding a personal health insurance plan, or having to buy
their own post-it notes instead of swiping them from work.
More often than not, though, I think they’ll say the biggest
challenge lay in learning to structure their days. The
ability to create meaningful structures is crucial to success—both
in terms of getting things done, and feeling satisfied about
it.
Each year, autumn
marks our return to the world of productivity, where we interact
with others to negotiate goals and objectives (Libra), make
the tough choices about what is essential to our true goals
and what is only taking up space(Scorpio), and dedicate ourselves
to a vision for the future (Sagittarius). Some days,
we’ll grumble all the way to work, or school, or the home
office computer. We’ll stand around the water cooler
and complain with our coworkers, or bitch to our fellow students
about the professor. And to some extent this is human
nature; but when complaining becomes the norm, we
have to consider whether our obligations serve a larger purpose
in our lives, or are merely habits we’re unwilling to break.
Routine without intention rapidly becomes tedium.
Perhaps the greatest
gift of autumn is its tempering influence, its call to service.
By committing ourselves to routines and schedules that serve
a larger purpose, and allowing ourselves to be forged in the
fire of autumn’s disciplines, we can begin to feel sorted
out and satisfied by our work and by our days, rather than
enslaved by them.
