With the holidays in the rearview mirror and the year still shiny and new, Capricorn season doesn’t preclude fun but it also doesn’t brook with dissociation. I’m all for hygge, that Danish embrace of everything cozy–fur slippers, crackling fires, hot toddies, the works. But I’m also a fan of the deep digging we do this time of year. Wrapped in layers and quiet by the hearth, we have the time and space to consider where we’re going, and climb into projects that go unattended when temperatures soar. To help you build those little houses in the big woods (and big houses in little woods!), I’ll be doing Ruby Intuition readings in Lambertville, NJ, at the delightful homestead of Katie Albert Bolton on Saturday, 1/13, and by appointment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and by Skype all through this month. To schedule a session, RSVP at email@example.com. The wind on your back may be glacial but it also can steer you where you need to go.
I was so into this Mercury Retrograde. Delightful! I crowed. It’s a trickster, engineering sparkly run-ins, bewitching us with time-travel adventures! Then tough-love Saturn entered big-daddy Capricorn on December 19 and it’s been a shite show, not a star shower.
Website hacked, wages garnished for unpaid taxes that in fact I paid, transportation black holes, clusterfuck communications, unseemly encounters applying exclamation points to long-simmering emotional run-on sentences. Then there’s the U.S. Plutocracy taking its reality-TV larceny to new let-em-eat cake levels: Climate change denial. Orwellian language control. The destruction of national monuments and healthcare for millions. Emboldened Nazis. Stolen Supreme Court seat. Crushed net neutrality. Cabinet departments handed to people bent on destroying them. Tax welfare for corporations.*
Am I learning? Yes, motherrrrrr, I am. But these lessons are proving as charmless as a Masshole when the Sox are losing. The good news: today’s winter solstice is sure to puncture this overarching darkness. In the meantime you can find me cowering with Gracie beneath the covers with champagne, hot sauce, and oranges from Rachel, laughing like a hyena with (not at) the brilliant sorceressery of Broad City and trying valiantly not to check my phone. Bright light to you, loved ones.
*Hat tip to Shawn Levy for breaking it down.