Mercury went retrograde yesterday, and it’s mired in the deep waters of Pisces, where the Sun also will reside beginning tomorrow. Not for nothing is this sign represented by two fish swimming in opposite directions. Ruled by sea god Neptune, it’s so receptive, reactive, and impressionable that clear thought and expression can be challenging on the best of days—and a retrograde in Mercury, the planet of communications, is hardly that.
Yesterday ambitious Mars entered taskmaster Capricorn, where Jupiter, Saturn and Pluto already are residing. Because such trail-blazing energy doesn’t marry easily with this go-with-too-many-flows retrograde, expect a constant “all dressed up and nowhere to go” feeling.
So how we do we negotiate the next three weeks? Honestly, by going even deeper.
With straight-ahead action virtually impossible, the key term is long– term— long-term planning, dreaming, feeling. Fret less about this retrograde’s inevitable miscommunications and tech misfires. Focus more on what projects feel best in your future. Just don’t make any major moves until Mercury goes direct March 9.
The good news? You may heal some broken bonds along the way. Even better: You and your big heart are poised to bloom on March 19, when spring springs into gear with Ostara.
Where to start, where to start?
It hasn’t been that long since I blogged, but it’s been a while since I deposited the kind of long, rambling essay that I feel inclined to deposit right now. Consider yourself warned.
The universe is encouraging me to do so. For one thing, I hiked all the way into the West Village to write the thank-yous I so desperately need—and want!—to write, only to discover I’d remembered everything but the beautiful notecards I’d purchased for this purpose. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here at Oslo West, with my long-lost friend, barista Cat, who has new curls—or maybe curls she just let off the leash. Either way, they’re fetching.
So far it’s been that kind of year: everything off the leash. Exhibit A: our democracy. Correction: Our former democracy.
Anyway, all of the West Village is fetching, sometimes I forget. Once upon a time I lived here with the Architect, and as much as it’s changed it’s also the same: the oddest mix of brittle and cozy, bohemian and haughty. Continue Reading →