All’s Right with the World
You wake just before dawn. The desert nights are still chilly in April, and you can see your breath; the fire’s gone out overnight. You dress quickly, pulling on your favorite, tattered sweater, comfortable jeans, and boots. Expertly, you build a fire, then set the coffee going and feed the dog. For yourself, bacon, eggs, and toast, eaten at the kitchen table. You like eating alone. You enjoy the silence of this time of day; you don’t turn on music or look at a cell phone. You don’t own a television. You have no desire for background noise.
The sun is up, and you enjoy the view of vast, empty scrubland, tinged sepia in the morning light. You hear the distant bleat of a neighbor’s goat. A bird settles on the porch railing, and you stare at one other in companionable silence.
The day spreads out ahead of you, and you tick off the chores: Bread to prepare for the next day’s baking. A hole in the roof to patch. A leatherworking project. Beans to soak. Wood to chop. Your hands almost tingle, eager to tackle all of it.
You might not see another soul today, and that suits you just fine. You feel a rush of satisfaction – a feeling of wealth, almost – as you contemplate your quiet, simple, self-sufficient life.
Venus is in Aries (April 30, 2025, 10:16 am PDT), and all’s right with your world.
Married to Spirit
Venus meets Neptune this week (May 2, 2025, 10:07 am PDT, 1º08’ Aries). Think of how we start out so idealistically in relationships or in a life of service, and how, over time, those pure motivations sometimes jump the track. The artist sells out for money. The priest becomes enamored of financial gifts from his flock. The spouse falls out of love and has an affair.
The union of Venus and Neptune symbolizes the hope of refreshing and healing our human connections, of elevating earthly desire to a state of purity, holiness. Wherever we’ve become enthralled to the pleasures of earth and flesh, now is a time to release those desires and marry ourselves to spirit.
More Than Just Survival
People of my generation, born in the late fifties and sixties, love to reminisce about our idyllic upbringings. We pride ourselves on having survived and even thrived despite the benign neglect of parents who let us run wild, hanging out together and exploring on our bikes.
Maybe it wasn’t all exactly as we remember. But I do feel that the security and slow pace of my early life had everything to do with the development of my creativity. When you have a roof over your head, plenty to eat, and a relatively peaceful family life, you have the luxury of time and energy – to play, to learn to play an instrument, to study astrology.
The placid Taurus New Moon gives way this week to the First Quarter Moon in Leo (May 4, 2025, 6:52 am, at 14º21’ Leo and Taurus). The Sun and Moon in aspect to Mars, still dancing in opposition to Pluto, is a shadowy reminder that the world changes for us as we get older. It takes courage to let the child within come out to play, to make ourselves vulnerable to criticism and even ridicule. But the steadiness of the Sun in Taurus offers a secure platform for our Leo playfulness and creative fun, and courage is both Leo’s goal and its true nature.
Even during stressful times, we quickly fall into routines and patterns that pass for normalcy. To the extent we’re got adequate resources, the challenge now is to push ourselves to reach for more than just survival. It’s a lunar phase that invites us to embrace what makes life worth living in the first place.
Shallow Grave
Pluto is retrograde for half of each year (May 4, 2025, 8:27 am PDT, through Oct. 13), but we mostly feel its heft on the days when it changes direction, as it will this week.
A Pluto station day can feel downright haunted. It’s as though a large Plutonian boulder has been overturned, revealing all the squirming, slimy things that were living underneath.
Uneasiness is part of the Pluto journey. I don’t intend to rush, whistling past the graveyard, desperately seeking comfort, redemption, or even wisdom. Instead, I’ll pull up a low, hard bench in the middle of the cemetery. I’ll listen to a cool wind in the trees, rustling the tall grass of panic, confusion, grief, and rage.
I could as easily watch a horror movie or read a ghost story. These are ways of letting the gremlins out to play, projecting our fears onto a blank screen or page where they feel manageable. So are dressing as a goth, devouring vampire books, or having a picnic in a cemetery. Flirting with death at a cool, ironic remove is cathartic, Pluto kabuki theater.
But every now and then, life makes it impossible to keep fear at a safe, rational, sanitary distance. Boulders get overturned, and long-buried compost is revealed. We find that what’s been long buried is rolling over in a shallow grave, begging for release.
Come sit next to me. We’ll listen carefully; we’ll watch for what comes next.
Writing and images © 2017-25 by April Elliott Kent
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