Stop Trying So Hard
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Rush Hour
Anyone who has commuted to a job knows what the First Quarter Moon in Aquarius (Nov. 4, 2:23 am PST) feels like. If the New Moon is the feeling of waking up in the morning, the First Quarter is what it’s like after we’ve showered, bolted a cup of coffee, and headed out the door. And in Aquarius, the First Quarter is like navigating a throng of people, all busy, all moving in the same general direction but with different destinations.
If you ride the same train or bus at the same time every day, you will see the same fellow commuters; you may eventually even begin acknowledging each other with a slight smile or nod. On the freeway, your car is one of thousands jockeying for position, fighting to merge into another lane or make your exit.
You’re all going somewhere, more or less together, yet each of you alone. And yet…if disaster should strike, or someone should faint on the train, or a nasty collision occur in the number four lane, prepare to observe humanity at its best. Strangers leap unquestioningly to one another’s aid, with no political, racial, or gender litmus test.
At the Moon’s first quarter, we’re hell bent on getting somewhere. But at the First Quarter in Aquarius, we’re figuring out how to do it in the society of others.
The unequivocal “no”
Have you been pushing yourself pretty hard for the past year and a half? The closing square between Mars and Pluto this week (Nov. 5, 2:28 am PST) is the moment of truth, resulting in either success or implosion. “Melting down” – metaphorically, or sometimes literally – is an expression of what happens when will and force (Mars) are met with an unequivocal “no” from the universe.
This is particularly evident in situations where you’re trying hard to help someone else (Libra) but it just isn’t working out. I forget where I heard this, but it made an enormous impact on me: “You can’t want it more than the other person wants it.” In other words, if someone doesn’t want to rescue themselves, then it’s a waste of time and energy to try to save them. You can’t want it more than they do.
Let the dough rest
This is a metaphor I’m sure I’ve used before, but it’s a particularly useful one in Saturn/Neptune times. It comes from my experiences making bread. There is a point in the process when kneading the dough becomes counterproductive, when it turns tight and tough and refuses to be shaped. And so, you have to let it rest. Cover it with a towel and leave it on the counter for a half an hour or so. Go have a cup of tea and pet the cat. When you come back, you’ll find that both you and the dough are happier and more relaxed.
This is the lesson on Nov. 8, when the Sun, Saturn, and Neptune form happy aspects to one another over a ten-hour period (9:06 am – 6:45 pm). What’s the key to happiness? It’s some happy alchemy of knowing who you are (the Sun), knowing who you want to become (Saturn), and knowing when to stop trying so hard (Neptune).
Write it down. Dance it out. Sing it loud.
Yes, Mercury is retrograde now. And yes, it seems to be a particularly feisty retrograde so far. “Go deep,” says Mercury retrograde in Scorpio. And as it revisits a sextile aspect to Pluto (Nov. 9, 6:09 pm PST) that it first made on Oct. 19, just before turning retrograde, the intensity is turned up. Lance the boil. Let out the sickness. Put it all out there, all the venom and grief and rage. Write it down. Dance it out. Sing it loud.
Do you find yourself fighting a lot in the past couple of weeks, especially with those who mean the most to you? Don’t let it scare you. Taking a hard look at what’s really going on between you is the next step in greater intimacy.
The same aspect forms one last time, on December 2, after Mercury is direct again. Until then, it’s the self-discovery and truth-telling time -to each other and to ourselves. The sextile, though, is an aspect that doesn’t force us to do anything. If we like, we can just sweep the nastiness under the carpet and pretend everything’s okay.
You know yourself and your relationships better than I do, and maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. But just maybe the time has come to wake them up and let them loose.
© 2019 by April Elliott Kent
