Eclipse in the first house: And the scabs fall off…

I like this picture of a replica of Donatello’s David (1430) (front view here) with the paint peeling off his butt like a scab. After the partial lunar eclipse in my first house (conj Jupiter opp Venus) this past weekend, it feels like the ones on my metaphorical behind are falling off too.

I can’t really explain what’s happened — nothing ‘big’ has occurred (so far). It is more like a sense that something’s shifted, and that while the movement was minimal the effects are multiplied. It’s a bit like that arcade game where you drop in coins one by one trying to move the coins in the moving drawer bit by bit. The process seems to take forever and then suddenly you drop in a coin at the right moment and a whole bunch (and maybe a prize or two) falls into the tray.

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On the verge of … verging

The title of this post came from a comment by my astro-blogging friend, Neeti Ray. I was trying to describe the weird sense of limbo I’m feeling that I can’t shake, like being on the verge of something that hasn’t yet manifested, and she wrote: ‘On, the verge of, verging’. Perfect! My original title was going to be ‘How to be in two places at once’.

As Venus opposes Pluto this weekend, continuing to put pressure on my own natal Venus-Pluto square, my thoughts turn to how one might process, or, indeed, metabolise, pain. With her customary bluntness, Lucy describes Venus’ recent ingress into Cancer as being akin to putting a ‘Band Aid on a gunshot wound’. It made me think again about the nature of Plutonian pain. And then there is what Elizabeth Spring describes as the ‘core pain’ of Neptune (no doubt accentuated by its conjunction to Chiron). If Plutonian pain is like a gunshot wound, I’d say Neptunian pain is like a bruising — you don’t notice it at first, until you accidentally press on it, or bump into the furniture again!

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Small wonder: Banana pancakes

I have been making banana pancakes.

It’s the only thing I know to do right now in this coffee-press climate of clusterfucks, eclipses, internal turmoil, change, transition, transformation, etc., etc. (I refuse to use the ‘h—–‘ and the ‘w—–‘ words!).

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Melancholy baby

swords09 I have been weepy all week.

There. I’ve come out and said it. Ordinarily, I’d wait to process the pain before confessing to it, my Capricorn moon preferring to hide in the basement until it passes, but I have been bolstered by the courage of those like the inimitable Lucy Looking Upward to bear their souls and share mine.

Put it down to the yod in my chart, the Hades Moon, the current Pluto transits, or the once-in-a-lifetime Jupiter-Neptune-Chiron conjunction (personally, I prefer Lucy’s more colourful ‘Clusterfuck of Doom’), it doesn’t really matter. In reality, it’s probably all the above exerting tremendous pressure on my 7th house Venus in Cancer.

We are reminded constantly of the message behind this rare triple conjunction: wounding, awareness, healing, and so on. Personally, I wouldn’t mind the occasional dose of Neptunian anaesthesia from time to time. I know I’m supposed to take lessons from it, I know I am being asked to re-assess what I value, I just wish it didn’t have to feel like a botched bikini wax, metaphorically speaking.

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