Sunday, August 19, 2018

Sad News and a Jupiter Hour

My enthusiasm for new monarch butterflies was squashed before the Moon left Scorpio. I received news that a drowning had occurred: several of the caterpillars fell into the water supply and died. The Moon was at 29 Scorpio, making a sextile to Mars at 29 Capricorn.

I guess the Moon being in its fall showed its face after all, and quite literally. Babies fell into the water and died.

There's Scorpio for you. Not good for nurturing life.

It's been that kind of week. One of the worst gone down in the books in quite some time, but its been that kind of summer, I suppose.

Mars' retrograde ingress into Capricorn was a big change alright. I hear more and more news of relationship breakups - of men walking out or calling it quits.

Not surprising.

Aretha Franklin went into hospice and left her body. Given the timing, I didn't expect her to survive through the Mars station. She's a Scorpio rising, her life ruled by Mars.

I'm still feeling out the exaltation combined with retrogradation of Mars. Change in conditions, yes. For better or worse? I don't know yet. It certainly has felt like absolute hell and torture on my end as I push through mountains of fear, death anxiety, and horrible visions. (These are not Mars retro specific - they're frequent.)

The whole situation has led me to wonder if death is the parent of all fears. Can all fears be traced back to death? Are they all branches and offshoots of one big family tree?

Mars has been named Samael, the Angel of Death.

But I also know that all planets can kill, all planets can disease.

The significations of Saturn and Mars can at times blur and get confusing for me so that I'm not sure who authors my great and many fears. Mars is my out-of-sect malefic, leading me to wonder if his special cruelty is visited upon me by his sons, Phobos and Demos. The Leo eclipses of the past year have both fallen upon my natal Mars, and most of his significations have delivered themselves with...force.

My body is stronger than it probably ever has been before, though, so there are life-affirming facets.

But I've been hurt and wounded, and the pain lingers.

Yesterday, the Jupiter hour found my heart cracking open a bit, and I pressed into it to make and offering of myself. I offered my mind as a meeting house for Divinity. I was surprised by how many tears followed. As all the saints and honored dead rushed in to attend, I cried and cried.

The presence of Divinity often overwhelms and I cry. Not necessarily tears of sadness, but I cry. It's like being so happy that I cry.

Yesterday, though, there was sadness. I realized how sad I was, how much I was hurting deep down under the muscle. I offered myself despite the terrible things that had come before and despite the things which scared me that were yet to come. Prayer is hard - it can take rigor to hold the house open in the face of suffering. But for that one moment in that blessed hour, I made Eternity of myself.

Despite everything.

I was sitting in my car, listening to Whitacre's transcendent choral arrangements of Three Songs of Faith by e. e. cummings.

We don't often sing because we feel good. We don't dance because we're happy. We don't lift ourselves in praise because our hearts rejoice.

We do so because it hurts. We sing to get the pain out.

I listened to Joe Carter talk about spirituals today on my walk in the woods, and in his gorgeous, rich bass voice he sang several for Krista.

Recognition struck me.

And I cried again.

I could feel the songs of those in slavery, hear words of faith and joy from a people crushed and trapped in life. I imagine living a life completely within the bounds of slavery, from birth to death, imagine myself enslaved looking at faces I love, and I cry some more.

Will I ever get out of this trap? Will I make it to a promised land?

Can I be free of fear?

In the brief moment of a song, in the time it takes to utter a mantra, or maybe while it's Jupiter's hour, I can feel glimpses of freedom. Even though the words are sad and spirituals are Sorrow Songs, somehow it feels like you are already there with God while you sing them. Your trials are over, and you've made it. Isn't that something?