Come Sit Next to Me
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Coming in from the cold
I was a lowly high school junior – a chubby geek in overalls – when Julie, our school’s homecoming queen and quintessential southern California golden girl, asked me for a favor. She wanted to choose a guitar, and she knew I played; would I go to the swap meet with her and help her pick one out?
I don’t remember much about that outing. I think I did pick out a decent little acoustic six-string for her. Mostly, I remember that Julie, whose popularity could have turned another kind of girl into a malicious shrew, was instead a warm and authentically nice person. She and I were never close, but half a Uranus cycle later, I remember her with fondness. She was a lovely, incandescent Sun to my ungainly, Uranian misfit; on the day we spent a little time together, I felt I’d been let in from the cold.
So, there’s a snapshot for this week’s annual Sun/Uranus conjunction (April 22, 4:05 pm PDT). If your light is a bright one, let it warm someone who has a hard time feeling part of things. And if you’re the wayward geek who doesn’t fit in, this could be the day you receive a gift of acceptance from a most unexpected source.
Sitting Shiva with Pluto
Pluto is retrograde for half of each year, but we mostly feel the heft of that on the days around its station (the period of time when it’s shifting from direct to retrograde, or vice versa), as it will this week (April 24, 11:45 am PDT). Here’s something I wrote a long time ago at a Pluto retrograde station; it has particular resonance for me right now, so I thought I’d share it with you.
The expression “rolling over in his/her grave” was simply made for a Pluto station. Pluto moved direct a couple of hours ago, and the day feels downright haunted. It’s as though some rather large Plutonian boulders have been overturned, unearthing all the squirming, slimy things that were living underneath.
I’m fearful today. That’s part of the Pluto journey. I don’t intend to rush, whistling, past the graveyard, desperately seeking comfort, redemption, or even wisdom. Instead, I’ve pulled up a low, hard bench in the middle of the cemetery. I’m listening to a cool wind in the trees, rustling the leaves of panic, confusion, grief, and rage. I’m sitting Shiva with Pluto.
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 nastiness 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.
Anyway, I like you
Oh, the Last Quarter Moon is a phase of such regret. It’s filled with all those 2 a.m. recriminations – why did I say or do that? – sometimes reaching back decades. The Last Quarter is for the part of us that just wants to get things right and do our best, and never feels we’re quite nailing it. This month’s Last Quarter Moon is in Aquarius (April 26, 3:18 pm PDT). “Oh, why aren’t I special, why am I so ordinary, I haven’t done anything amazing with my life, no one likes me,” it moans. The Sun in Taurus couldn’t be less interested in such things, generally speaking. “Don’t be silly,” it chides us. “You’re just fine. And for that matter, you’re not what I’d call ordinary.”
That’s the voice to listen to at this Last Quarter Moon. That’s the Sun that the Aquarius Last Quarter Moon is headed for at this phase; it can only aspire to the happy contentment, the stolid inner peace of the Bull. “Don’t make everything so complicated,” advises the Sun in Taurus. “You’re kind of interesting and funny. Anyway, I like you.”
And the nice thing is, it’s true. There’s almost always someone who likes you the way you are, or would if you’d let them. And if there isn’t, then maybe that person needs to be you.
Prefrontal cortex and testosterone
At this exact moment, as I considered what to say about this week’s square between Mars in Gemini and Neptune in Pisces (April 27, 6:04 am PDT), I had a text from my cousin commenting on some sort of dreadful law enforcement reality show she’s watching. Apparently, one of the segments concerned a raging drunk motorist driving 110 mph on city streets with his 3-year-old in the car.
Given that Mars can signify truculence and impulse control, Gemini rules cars, and Neptune in Pisces can certainly symbolize alcohol and poor judgement, this story has all the necessary elements to serve as a cautionary tale for this transit. Mind your temper, and don’t drive drunk. I mean, this should be obvious.
And it is, to most of us, most of the time. But Mars is not cool, logical, or cerebral, even in Mercury-ruled Gemini. Mars is all prefrontal cortex and testosterone. Add Neptune to the mix and none of us are likely to be thinking as clearly as we think we are. So maybe you’re itching to let someone have it, someone who really has it coming; but this is probably not the week to pick that fight, because all the data might not be in, you know? Go for a swim instead, or take a bath, or dance. Curb your impulses. Try not to do what can’t be undone.
©2019 April Elliott Kent
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