For days the girl had been watching this conjunction approach and wondering what it might bring. As said PoF is in Pisces in the Twelfth, she was not expecting riches, at least, not material ones. Only once, when Venus was conjunct the PoF and the girl was in Las Vegas feeding dollars into a slot machine, had money appeared on this aspect - nice money, $1,000 - and she of course was *playing* Wheel of Fortune. But that was long ago, before we dipped our bread in olive oil, to plagiarize a New Yorker cartoon, and this was the beginning of this week, Monday May 10, with natal PoF at 26 pisces 21 and Jupiter at 25 pisces 41.
It was the beginning of week four in New Mexico for the girl, and she was having a hard time adjusting after seven months in New York. The weather had been miserable, too cold or windy to go outside and *garden*, and the girl had been spending a lot of time huddled by the fire watching Law and Order and Turner Classic Movies. She was not working, either for someone else or on the play she was supposed to be rewriting, and the house had been left so spotlessly clean by her tenants of the winter there was nothing to do there, not that that was anything to complain about.
OK. So get up, let out cat, put on kettle, clean teeth, make coffee, check email. Staples weekly deals, High Country Gardens' newsletter, a friend in New York and - oh, a comment on the girl's blog from Anonymous. Click, and the world changes. "Once a boy lived with a girl in a more-often-than not coldwater railroad flat on 92 and Ist." The girl's heart stops as she reads this, and is just beginning to beat again when she gets to "One day many years later the boy awoke with her name on his lips." The girl is stunned, blown away, not sure she's reading what she's reading. She has been thinking of this boy for years, periodically looking for him online and never finding him, giving up for five years or so, going on with life, typing his name into Google's search box again, same result, another five years...
The girl finishes reading, holds her head on with both hands and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, the post is still there. The girl is 65 years old but still an Aries, with natal Venus there as well, and though she feels as though an electrical storm is raging in her head she types "Name, please. Does it begin with C?" and hits reply. She gets up and wanders through the house shaking her head from side to side in disbelief, holding it on with both hands. She goes back to the computer, looks at what she's posted, and realizes "Does it begin with C?" is not quite what she meant to say, implying as it does the answer could equally have been M or T or W or J. She hopes it's possible to delete a response on Blogger and is relieved to find it is, although the words "This post has been deleted by the author" sit there instead. The boy had ended his comment by saying the girl would have to speak for herself, so she types "And the girl would be more than happy to, but not on here." That was better.
It's not until the next morning that the boy responds, by which time the girl is - the girl is what? She doesn't know herself, in all meanings of that term. The electrical storm in her brain has not died down, synapses popping and fizzing away, all circuits on overload, rush hour expresses on every neural network. "I saw your post when I got in late yesterday, and found myself too tired to write." Too tired to write? the girl thinks, but then she remembers there are eleven other Zodiac signs. She wishes she knew the boy's. She reads on. "But yes, you were right about it being C." Shit. He saw it. Oh well. He's given her his email address so she can respond privately. She does. That was on Tuesday morning and Saturday, four days later, she has yet to hear from him.
The good news for the girl is the storm has passed. By the time Jupiter (big) conjuncted her Part of Fortune in the Twelfth House (suffering and self undoing) exactly on Friday, the winds were dying down. The Greater Benefic and higher octave of Venus, that jocular bringer of joy, must have had his mind on other things, like hope and faith, as he approached and overtook. The girl is not yet sure if he left the other things behind. She wonders if, when Jupiter retrogrades over the same degree in October, the boy will reappear. She wonders where he lives, what he looks like now, whether he is married and/or a grandfather. She wonders why he would bother to search her out and then let things drop. A friend in whom the girl could not help but confide suggested helpfully that he may have been hit by a bus, as indeed he may. He may also have fallen down a manhole, been hit on the head by an air conditioner (if he lives in New York) or entered the Federal Witness Protection Program (if he lives in New Jersey) ha ha.
The girl began to cry when she was writing the third paragraph, which was probably a good thing. The week has made her realize she would like someone in her life she cares and feels about as much as she did the boy who would care and feel about her as she believes the boy did. She has a great deal more to say for herself than this but this will have to do for now. She is going outside to sow some seeds.
15 May, 2010
03 May, 2010
What but Saturn could make me post again?
My poor neglected blog. My writing about my fascination with the wonders of astrology has taken a back seat in the past month. The writing I have done has involved finishing up my latest play, an accomplishment in itself, though I'm the one to say so. Before I left New York to come out to Silver I was fortunate enough to hear it read, which confirmed my opinion that Act II needs work and since I've been in Silver I've been tackling that, when I'm not huddled by the fire wrapped in a blanket, that is. Sunday, May 2, we had a snowfall. April 29, the beginning of the Tour of the Gila bike race, we had 60 mph winds. Friday I don't think the temperature got above 55, and yesterday it might have made it to 60. Today - whoopee - it might get to 69 and I might be able to start some of the clean up the "garden" needs. Maybe not.
This is all back-story (sorry) to Sunday, April 26, the only beautiful warm day since I got here on the 18th. For the first few days I was here I had absolutely no energy, and was beginning to think that it was because I was 65 when I remembered the altitude - 6,000 feet and not quite as much oxygen in the air as in New York. That made me feel better, but the weather was still horrible, too cold to go outside and work. That Saturday was better and Sunday was wonderful - blue sky, sunny, over 80. The plan was to go into town, get some grub for my neighbor who was coming over for a beer at six, and spend the afternoon outside weeding, cutting back the vinca, sweeping up the pine needles etc. etc., until five when I'd take a shower and get ready for a visitor.
Saturn conjuncted Chiron exactly at 9:53 in the morning that Sunday. The title given to that aspect by Astrodienst is "Don't Give In." With an inexcusable lack of punctuality, the universe waited four whole hours before kicking in. Just as I was about to drive into town, the phone ran and there was my neighbor who was coming for a beer later.
Me: Are we on for tonight?
Him: Well, I have an invitation you can't refuse.
Me (thinking we are invited out for dinner): Oh?
Him: I know how much you love choral music and this afternoon the Silver City Chamber Music Society is giving a concert in the Episcopal Church at three. I'm inviting you to come with me.
Me (speechless, thinking of having been inside in a New York City apartment for six months, how much I was looking forward to scrabbling around in the dirt for the first time
this year, what an idiot I was to have thought I could have survived Saturn to Chiron unscathed and wondering how I could possibly refuse): Uh -
Him: I'll pick you up about 2:30, that should be enough time.
Me (truthfully): But I don't have anything to wear.
Him: You'll find something, I know.
Me: Uh -
Him: See you then.
I have now experienced what it feels like to have one's senses reel. For the rest of the day - on my way into town, shopping, on my way back, taking a skirt out of the laundry and sniffing it, showering, dressing, back into town with my neighbor, sitting in the church, back here having a beer, trying to read when my neighbor had left - I felt - well, I felt as though my senses were reeling. Of course I couldn't say no to him. He's elderly, his friends are dying off, he just donated his beloved mare to a breeding program as he feels his bones are getting too brittle to risk riding so now he has nothing to do on Sundays, he's turning to the church - I had to give in. It was Saturn.
This is all back-story (sorry) to Sunday, April 26, the only beautiful warm day since I got here on the 18th. For the first few days I was here I had absolutely no energy, and was beginning to think that it was because I was 65 when I remembered the altitude - 6,000 feet and not quite as much oxygen in the air as in New York. That made me feel better, but the weather was still horrible, too cold to go outside and work. That Saturday was better and Sunday was wonderful - blue sky, sunny, over 80. The plan was to go into town, get some grub for my neighbor who was coming over for a beer at six, and spend the afternoon outside weeding, cutting back the vinca, sweeping up the pine needles etc. etc., until five when I'd take a shower and get ready for a visitor.
Saturn conjuncted Chiron exactly at 9:53 in the morning that Sunday. The title given to that aspect by Astrodienst is "Don't Give In." With an inexcusable lack of punctuality, the universe waited four whole hours before kicking in. Just as I was about to drive into town, the phone ran and there was my neighbor who was coming for a beer later.
Me: Are we on for tonight?
Him: Well, I have an invitation you can't refuse.
Me (thinking we are invited out for dinner): Oh?
Him: I know how much you love choral music and this afternoon the Silver City Chamber Music Society is giving a concert in the Episcopal Church at three. I'm inviting you to come with me.
Me (speechless, thinking of having been inside in a New York City apartment for six months, how much I was looking forward to scrabbling around in the dirt for the first time
this year, what an idiot I was to have thought I could have survived Saturn to Chiron unscathed and wondering how I could possibly refuse): Uh -
Him: I'll pick you up about 2:30, that should be enough time.
Me (truthfully): But I don't have anything to wear.
Him: You'll find something, I know.
Me: Uh -
Him: See you then.
I have now experienced what it feels like to have one's senses reel. For the rest of the day - on my way into town, shopping, on my way back, taking a skirt out of the laundry and sniffing it, showering, dressing, back into town with my neighbor, sitting in the church, back here having a beer, trying to read when my neighbor had left - I felt - well, I felt as though my senses were reeling. Of course I couldn't say no to him. He's elderly, his friends are dying off, he just donated his beloved mare to a breeding program as he feels his bones are getting too brittle to risk riding so now he has nothing to do on Sundays, he's turning to the church - I had to give in. It was Saturn.
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