All posts here are from sections of the books: "North Node Astrology; Rediscovering Your Life Direction and Soul Purpose" and "Lifting the Veil; Becoming Your Own Best Astrologer" and "Astrology for the Third Act of Life" and finally "Saturn Returns~The Private Papers of A Reluctant Astrologer" All available in paperback, Kindle and Audible on

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Friday, September 13, 2013

Excerpt from book: "North Node Astrology; Rediscovering Your Life Direction and Soul Purpose"

This is the last page of "North Node Astrology" and even though it doesn't relate to the Nodes themselves, it seems to express a mood of this time of life and this time we all live in together. Perhaps this is what the healing medicine of the North Node can do....

Following the threads

of chosen words,

One crafts a story

as one crafts a life--

Following the threads

of small acts of choice

                        and courage—

Raveling and unraveling

the particulars of a life

Following the story-line home.

Catching hold of a purple thread of sorrow--

 a yellow line of joy—

I needle through the cloth,

 buttoning together the places of the heart

that must be bound.

Knarlly and knotted; piecing and stringing

this tapestry together by such fragile threads--

I hide the back-side from view.

‘Such a beautiful piece’ they say—

‘Strung together

 by such rich, colorful threads’.

Yet I know how I suffered the broken threads--

The illusions, false engagements, subtle betrayals—

So much paradox and possibility;

 At times, the fabric barely held.

For far too long--

I’d look at the torn places

And tried to sew

through button-eyes—


They released themselves--

 As I sought to make connections

That were not mine to make.

But now the needle moves rhythmically

 through the holy quartet

                             of a single button—

 I see how the parts relate—

            How the singular threads

 Need to be knotted and interwoven—

                        Buttoned with the belief

            That there are meaningful patterns

                In this life of fifty-eight years…

The stitches are beginning to hold;

the torn places are mending.

Slowly and persistently

 the heart still cries out—

And what needs to become attached,


And what needs to become detached,


And nothing gets thrown away…

As I’ve become a keeper of buttons.
                                                                 (c) Elizabeth Spring