Thursday, May 28, 2015

Restlessness Part 2 - Mercury Retrograde

Sometimes a girl gets a little overwhelmed, especially when the shit is flying fast and mercury is in retrograde. Trust me, I don’t really believe that the apparent motion of a minor planet in the night sky can make shit happen here on Earth. But, I do believe that astrology, like the tarot, is a systems of metaphors we use to access our unconscious and describe our lives.

According to our friend the internet, Mercury rules communication, be it spoken, written or implied. It also rules formal contracts and agreements, codes, transportation and travel. When a planet is retrograde, the function it rules (astrologically speaking) tends to go haywire, or at least dormant. In other words, Mercury retrograde results in a good old fashion communication breakdown.

There is a lot of shit going on right now, lots of loose threads and missed connections, way too much for my menopause brain to cope with. When life gets like this, my instinct is to bolt; just leave all of it behind and start fresh somewhere else. Mind you, I haven’t done that in a while. But, the impulse is particularly strong right now. I’m checking out job listings in Portland and New Orleans. I won’t act on them; I’m not stupid. But, I’m strongly drawn to the idea of leaving this big fat mess I’ve created behind and starting over.

A couple of old sayings come to mind: Wherever you go, there you are. Same shit, different day. I carry my chaos with me. It’s part of me.

Today's lesson is gratitude. Breathe. Wait. Ditch the envy, the grass is not greener. Be here now.

Speaking of communication breakdown, who can forget the first couple of bars of Led Zeppelin's first album? I got that album for my 10th or 11th birthday, I can't remember which, but I vividly remember hearing that pulsing guitar and those three power chords. Blew my tiny little mind.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015


He could not stay still for a minute; as long as he was busy he could ignore the demands of his soul, but if he had a few quiet minutes to himself he felt a fire consuming him, a fire so powerful he was sure it did not originate with him but had been fed by his tempestuous father and, before him, his grandfather the horse thief, and before that who knows how many great grandfathers branded with the same stigma of restlessness. It was his fate to roast on embers fanned by a thousand generations.

Isabel Allende