In the past couple of days, I’ve become preoccupied with two things: snacks, and Airstream trailers. The former is a textbook response to a looming Solar Eclipse (tonight at 7:35 pm PDT) in the food-loving sign of Cancer. And as for the Airstream… well, they’re so darned cute, cozy, and self-contained. Shiny, portable shelter – these little land dinghies have always made me think of a crab’s shell.
If the sign of Cancer teaches us anything, it’s that there are moments when it’s best to crawl into your shell for a while and close the door behind you. I’ve been feeling that way since the lunar eclipse, and until the last couple of days I haven’t had the luxury of taking some time out. Consequently I’m feeling tired and oversensitive (not to mention bloated, from all the snacking). Plus, the avalanche of New Moon/Solar Eclipse messages in my inbox is making me feel anxious, because OMG, I didn’t write anything for the New Moon, and it’s an eclipse (to end all eclipses), and I’m supposed to be kind of an eclipse gal. My career is over! (Cue swirly falling graphic and dramatic music a la Jimmy Stewart’s terrifying plunge in Vertigo…)
It’s the same feeling I get if I spend too much time on Facebook, reading blow-by-blow accounts of all the fabulous writing and readings and everything else that my colleagues are doing. I find myself anxiously comparing my output to theirs (or at least, my perception of theirs), which I realize is sort of crazy because I’m just one person, and it’s not as though it’s one person doing all those things, it’s an entire Facebook friends list. Nevertheless, the honest truth is that while part of me is intrigued and inspired to hear what other folks are up to, an increasingly shrill part of myself is covering its eyes and ears and screaming to be left alone.
So until the Leo New Moon I’ll be giving myself a summer vacation in the fetching vintage Airstream in my mind. Internet service there is unreliable, so I’ll be severely limiting my visits to Facebook, astrology blogs or websites, and my email inbox.
My heart is trying to make itself heard. I get the feeling I’ve come to the end of a long road… and now I’m going to trek across a lonely, quiet field for a little, carrying my little Airstream shell behind me, until I find where the new road begins.
Well. I guess I wrote something about the New Moon in Cancer after all.
How are you doing? Where’s the eclipse (29 Cancer) falling your birthchart?
