I spent the last couple of days mostly on the couch, mindlessly surfing the net and taking long naps, eating leftover Halloween candy, almost completely unable to marshal my resources and get anything done. I figured it was a sort of social hangover after the push of hosting a big Halloween dinner and simultaneously frolicking with an out-of-town guest. It felt almost exactly like a hangover, actually, though the only alcohol I’ve had in recent memory was a half-glass of champagne at the party.
People never believe that a Leo (especially one with a Sagittarius ascendant) can be introverted. But intensive socializing really takes it out of me. You need look no further than Neptune in Scorpio in my 12th house, holding powerful sway and exerting hypnotic influence over my natal Sun, Moon, Mercury, and Venus. My teacher used to describe Neptune as an “energy leak” in the chart. Sure enough, I often feel as though I have to put twice the energy into mobilizing my planets that aspect Neptune, to make up for the dissipation factor.
But it ends up there was more to the story than that: transiting Neptune, retrograde since late May, has been stationing this week, preparing to move direct today. My individual Neptune matrix had gotten ensnared in a more pervasive and universal fog. The outer planets inch along at such a glacial pace, and stay retrograde for so long, that it’s easy to overlook their stations. But what they lack in activity, these planets more than make up for in heft. Fleet little Mercury turning retrograde or direct is irritating, yes, but it’s like a goldfish that’s jumped out of its bowl and is flopping back and forth on the table; just pick it up and toss it back in the water, and that’s that. Neptune turning retrograde or direct, on the other hand, is more like a whale that’s beached itself, and it often requires valiant efforts to push it back out to sea.
Today, my inner sky began to clear. I woke refreshed, leaped into the shower, and prepared to take off later today for a few days of R&R. The fog has lifted, and my great white whale has pushed itself back out to sea where it belongs. For now.
