The Reluctant Astrologer, Part 2

"Once upon a time there was a woman, who wasn’t as young as she used to be, who sat at her table to write. It was very early morning, and she had just awoken from a night full of terrible dreams. In every dream she was lost and no one could hear or help her. After each dream she awoke, and thought it was over. But it wasn't: there was yet another bad dream, and then another.


She wasn’t totally unprepared for this to happen, for she was a wise woman and had seen signs of it coming. The flood last week, with the waters rising in the basement, had permeated her psyche like the mold that was beginning to grow, and the soggy destruction of her old books and keepsakes was not a good sign. She found she could no longer hold back the slow undertow of tears that she had forced back in her waking life. Kendra had indeed “entered a dark wood” and although the sun was out and all appeared well, she knew she had lost her way.


As Kendra sat at her table to write, she stared at the page and didn’t know where to begin. She, who taught and counseled others, now knew she was the one needing guidance. She knew what she knew, for she was wise in some ways, but she also knew that she couldn’t carry the burden of the rising waters alone.


As she began to write she thought about how she had spoken to others about the importance of containing water—the emotions—within the metaphorical banks of the river. But when the storm rains come to her house, and the Neptunian waters inundated everything Kendra and her husband had spoken sharp words to each other on how to solve this basement “dankness’—their words were filled with exasperation and frustration—and before they knew what had happened, they had wounded each other and felt more alone than before. It seemed as if the dankness of the water had invaded their psyches. And so separately they took turns slogging their tired hearts around the wet basement, trying to rescue what was salvageable.


But this wasn’t the whole story. The words were slow to come on this particular morning although she knew that feeling lost was often the beginning of any journey. New beginnings were often heralded by a Pluto-phoenix experience: destruction came before reconstruction, and Pluto signifies a metaphorical death and rebirth. She wanted that new beginning, and an ending of something, though she wasn’t clear about what that would look like. She did know however, that it was time to discern more clearly what it was in her life she needed to keep, and what she needed to release. She loved her husband, and despite their differences, she hoped with all her heart that the cracks in the relationship were simply the natural cracks of the tension of a long marriage.


But something else was gnawing at her as well. Something was summoning her to change. It was a yearning in her Soul and “a knowing" that she was being moved by the Universe outside of her own Will. Others had come to her with this same problem: some had spoken of feeling stuck, or of being torn between opposing desires, and some had the feeling that an unwelcome change was coming. They all needed reassurance that eventually all would be well. And Kendra believed this to be true: all things pass.


Kendra paused, sighed, and stared out the window at the naivete of the spring morning. She thought how each new day and each new birth feels fateful. It’s as if the lover or God or Muse is “doing unto me” something that will change my life forever. Will it be allowed space to enter? Will it find expression? Or will I resist?


She picked up her pen again and wrote: 'A wise woman takes care of herself, and yet seeks help from another. She asks for help but most of all, she asks her Self: What do I do now? And then she takes the time to listen. Kendra remembered being pregnant and how she had a way of waiting and attending to herself, going slowly and patiently. She endured being sick and feeling not quite right, because there was new life stirring within. There was fear and there was hope. As she grew larger each month, she learned to trust the process of change, and the sick feeling of being lost or being taken over by something else began to pass. In time the birth came, and all was well.'" Kendra hoped it would be the same now, but was not so naive that she didn't know the dangers. She put down her pen and walked outside. The air smelled fresh and good and clean. ~ Elizabeth Spring
www.elizabethspring.com

The Reluctant Astrologer

The Reluctant Astrologer

"The prediction was coming true—of course, astrologers don’t like to call it a prediction, but it was a prediction nevertheless. And it was worse in this case because Kendra herself was the astrologer; the predictor. She certainly wasn’t a fortune teller, and she certainly believed that free will could overcome any karmic challenge that might arise, but it was shocking to see how her life seemed to be dissolving in front of her.

She had to admit that it was a liability of her profession to sometimes see too much. Signs and synchronicities had a way of seeping into her psyche like water slowly rising in the basement. She didn’t use the words like good or bad, but instead she believed in “fierce grace.” Anything could be turned around, and often what felt like a terrible fate could turn into grace. Sometimes the change occurred because of what we did, sometimes it was because of what we didn’t do; our patience. At this point, all she knew was that she desperately needed some of that “fierce grace.”

Kendra had been an astrological counselor for over twenty years, and it felt good to be on the helping side of things, to be on the “knowing” side, of this profession. How easy it had been to encourage her clients in “foul weather or fair” or suggest ideas as to how to handle the moment of crisis or opportunity. But no matter how many ways she looked at her chart now, she saw only the slipping away of certainty and the call of an unknown summons –a prediction that she could not evade or barely understand.

Kendra liked to muse on possibility and probability. But her rambling thoughts now were a liability rather than an asset. Her hands clenched and gripped the steering wheel in an effort to keep the car from careening out of control. The windshield wipers fought fast against the icy rain, as her eyes tried to adjust to the kaleidoscopic white swirls of snow coming at her. She kept her frozen foot on the accelerator at a steady 50 MPH. She was going to make it to the city before dark; she was going to make it to Boston before she lost her courage.

Courage. People would call Kendra when they needed to summon their courage. She loved that word, because in French it meant to “take heart” and she was good at helping others do this. She believed in the power of a generous heart and a beginners mind. But before this, she had always been on the giving end of the encouragement and the receiving end of the numbers—the birth dates, times, and credit card numbers. It had been an honor to be invited into the private lives of others, and to get paid for it.

Kendra needed to concentrate on the road, but the wipers were mesmerizing as they thrashed across the windshield. Kendra turned off the old “Enya” CD and turned on the car radio station. Country music, static, hard rock and roll, or the oldies station playing the Eagles version of “Desperado”. She switched it all off. Maybe she should think about this plan to defuse the energies of Saturn, Pluto and Uranus. It was an old story for sure, of death, reinvention and rebirth. But if astrology was about anything, it was about trusting what she had always called “Divine Right Timing.”

***

This is the beginning of a new book I'm working on right now--a novel about 2 women--one in her first Saturn Return at age 29, and one in her second Saturn Return at age 59. It's a novel about reinventing one's life, and is interwoven with astrological lore/wisdom.

I imagine that YOU might be a reader-- although I must admit I don't know how it would get published. If any of you readers have ideas about birthing a book like this, or if you'd like me to post the book while writing, I'd be willing...maybe I need to hear from YOU....are you there?