There are some things no amount of foresight or cognitive understanding can emotionally prepare you for. I know this — my dad was alive one day and dead the next — yet it comes up again and again in the story of my life, a regular reminder that I cannot intellectualize my way out of feeling my goddamn feelings.
I knew Venus retrograding her way through Capricorn in my 7th House of relationships and commitments would resurface old fears, destructive patterns, and insecurities. It is angular, after all, and transits to the angles of our charts — the Ascendant, IC, Descendant, and MC, which roughly correspond to the 1st House, 4th House, 7th House, and 10th House — tend to impact us directly, or at least noticeably.
Venus’s retrograde marks her symbolic trek through the underworld, so I anticipated an encounter with an ex or two. I knew her proximity to Pluto would amplify the scope of it all and make every instance of petty conflict or disparaging self-talk feel like a relational death sentence. And once he entered Capricorn, I knew the Sun, my Time Lord for the year, would shine his light across the entirety of my Cap-ruled 7th House, illuminating every foundational crack and crevice to the point where I would not be able to ignore them if I tried.
I knew all this, yet I could not prepare for how harshly it would hit. And reader, I have been emotionally, spiritually, and physically bowled over by this transit. I had no words except “ouch,” “what the fuck,” and, in rare moments of clarity, “I’m being absolutely ridiculous, aren’t I?”
Mars is also moving through my 6th House of illness and injury; just days after its exact opposition to my natal Sun in Gemini, I contracted COVID-19. Almost two full years of trying to outrun this thing, and it finally caught up with me. It was a mild case, a privilege I chalk up to my relative good health and three doses of Ms. Pfizer, but the virus left me exhausted, severely congested, and confined to the small expanse of the Brooklyn apartment I share with my partner for 10 days. Unsurprisingly, it created the perfect storm for a total crisis of self.
All this to say, I took a break from this newsletter to sort out my shit. I’m still sorting it out — I don’t think we ever fully stop working on our shit, or at least, I don’t think we should ever stop — but a winning combination of rest, good reading, and soul-baring, one-on-one conversations has me in a good headspace to write again. And these days, writing about astrology is what makes my heart sing.
So, surprise, bitch. I’m back. I hope you were able to get some rest over the winter holidays, too. God knows we all need it.
Today’s astrology: I didn’t get my shit together to post this newsletter in time for yesterday’s New Moon in Capricorn, but that’s okay. You’re probably still feeling that sense of renewal; paired with Jupiter’s recent ingress into artsy, emotive Pisces, it’s a potent moment for all the dreamers and schemers out there. Lana Del Rey’s right: Hope can be a dangerous thing. I believe it is still worth cultivating, especially alongside the critical eye, structural soundness, and willingness to Put in the Work™️ of a New Moon in a Saturn-ruled sign like Capricorn.
I’m reminded of astrologer Aliza Kelly’s description of the link between the astral world and the material world in her book This Is Your Destiny: Using Astrology to Manifest Your Best Life, which I devoured over the holiday break:
The astral plane is a fancy way of describing the non-material dimension that exists adjacent to our physical world. The physical world, by contrast, is defined by sensory reality. … Simply, the physical world contains everything that currently exists.
But before things exist, they must be created. In a sense, the astral world is the “behind the scenes” to the physical domain. The astral plane is the dimension that contains all the thoughts, ideas, vibes, wants, wills, intentions, manifestations, spirits, and energies that ultimately become things. We cultivate within the astral plane and actualize in the physical world.
In this first week of 2022, let your wildest, brilliant-est, most Piscean dreams run rampant in your mind’s eye. Then take one (1) tangible, real-world step toward making them a reality. I haven’t been in a physics class in almost a decade, but I’m pretty sure that motion begets motion. Let’s get moving.
Fave astro content: I can’t resist. Scroll for even more sea goat sass.