Our next Psycho-Cosmos class is Sunday March 30. We’ll discuss the natal chart and the (un)conscious. FUN AND WEIRD. When you sign up, you’ll get the recordings of our first two classes, plus a google drive filled with cosmic and psychoanalytic reading materials.
By popular demand, I opened up 4 more eclipse season readings for this week and next, leading up to the final Aries eclipse on March 29th. Also: it’s the first day of Aries season, the start of the astrological new year—excellent time to grab the 5-session package. *discount codes for both at the bottom of this newsletter for paying subscribers :))
“..it shall be revealed by fire.” — Corinthians 3:13
“If all that changes slowly may be explained by life, all that changes quickly is explained by fire.” — Gaston Bachelard, The Psychoanalysis of Fire
It was Pisces season forever. Long, dreamy, waterlogged, and filled with the demented enchantment-torment of waiting, an ocean coughing up time’s freaky mutability. When waiting: we repeat and list. List, listen, to desire or want. The wind bloweth where it listeth. Words derange, inflate, get heavy with water, lisp. I made a list of things I was waiting on. I meant to write something on waiting, but did not. Roland Barthes has this whole thing about waiting in A Lover’s Discourse. He says the lover waits, loves and waits: an enchantment.
Appropriate, as Mercury and Venus are retrograding through Aries and Pisces. It’s not so much that retrograding planets wait (who knows what they’re doing) but that through them, we wait. They are not reporting back to us. We’re on our own. No word. These slow retrograding inner planets go back and forth, reminding us that water both precedes and follows fire. They save and mess with each other. That loaded word, enchantment: singing, rhythmic repetition, remix.
I woke the day before Aries season in a rage. The freezeframed wait cracked open and turned overnight to forceful fire, writing monologues and elaborate apologies in my head to those who’ve wronged me and those I’ve wronged. Fire annihilates, makes self-righteous, enlivens, reveals. Aries is first fire, where we learn how to work with it, get burned, burn, burn through. When we have spoken or acted too soon—full speed ahead. Or forced speech or action from others. Ran our mouths. Held our tongues. Been brazen, ballsy, enlivened.
Mercury and Venus retrace their steps in Aries as they head for the sun, re-member and deconstruct the ways we’ve acted in haste, all the parties left in the wake, the times we’ve been injured by too much heat, or screamed our heads off, gone headstrong and babyish, and when others—lovers and enemies—have screamed at our heads. Aries rules the head, teaches us about going headfirst into things. Birth, bravery, bravado, sting.
The eclipse at the end of this month is in the sign of the Ram—the last one in a series that began in October of 2023. A strange new pyrotechnics of language from endless repetition. Handwritten punishments turned to inky revelation or maybe, nothing. The writing hand, the match, the magic wand recharging.