Now that Saturn is back (in Scorpio)

"Is it necessary to push back so hard against potential movement? Is it necessary to hesitate as a way of life? You owe yourself better than struggling with the flow of creativity, pleasure, and money through your life. You can now make some progress working this out."

-Eric Francis

The exhalation feels so welcome, ahhh. Jupiter is visible in the sky now, and until the 18th of July the he's paired up with Venus in the sign of Leo (roar). There's big luck available! When I was born Saturn and Mars were in this pair-up giving me an internal sort of tattoo that read 'Hesitate.' Ms. Mars wants to act and roar in the sign of Leo, but, in as tight a conjunction as it was when I was pulled with the forceps, Saturn has had a hold on my mojo. With too much brake, the mojo breaks!

My favorite astrologer, Elsa, has been an incredible positive example of how to flow. Since the first days of our acquaintance via her blog, I have been impressed with what and how she endures. Then, she work a book, her memoirs and that is a story of endurance against all odds. Her planetary specifics? She holds those cards (Elsa is a card-player!) close to her chest. Fair enough, I say. What she shares via her blogging etc. is more than enough public disclosure. 

Elsa has recently made a big geographical move while managing and understanding what it takes to live with a serious immune-system disease. What she experiences she shares candidly. I'm sure there are details she holds like her cards, but, her readers learn from her personal revelations. She serves a large population through her work, and her life. I am served by her example.

Saturn's summer retreat into Scorpio is big business. For me, the return of the planet of hesitation humbles me once again. Astrology gives me new lenses, and I see the reality of my habits: pushing back ... necessary hesitation ... struggling with the flow. Last night as I was out driving the sky shrouded in fires' smoke from the burns in British Columbia. It was late, nearly 10 PM, but just barely light. Up in the muted orange sky were two lights -- headlights -- one slightly brighter than the other. but lined up like your car lights coming at me. Jupiter and Venus. I was out getting some prospective on the old question: Is it necessary to push back so hard against potential movement? 

My feelings were being hurt. My values questioned. The girl with Saturn on Mars' back was spitting mad. But the old woman with Saturn transiting Scorpio and Venus lined up with Jupiter sought the higher ground, left the scene of the battle and found her way into the middle of the flow. By the time I got back to the woods, and home. I quietly climbed under the covers and prayed for a bit of peace in dream time.

Much of my dreams of late slip away. It's okay, busy busy, I welcome the slip of sleep instead of more overtime. How about you?

Walking

My son is with us in the woods.  He has moved himself off the mokupuni o Hawaii (left Hawaii) and is transitioning.  He and I went into town and shared a plate of buttermilk pancakes and conversation, and before heading back to the woods I cruised the street overlooking Saratoga Pass and saw the extremely low tide.  "Walk?"  Yes, he was agreeable to a walk. 

The beach walk along the Langley shore is one of my favorite places to connect with the moment.  Spring has definitely come to Whidbey Island though the cool breeze is still lean in temperature the blue sky and promise of more sun warms me.  The silty shore flowed to a substantial skirt owing in large part I think, to the clay banks crumbling from the seeping fresh water above.  Huge caves are carving hollows at the base of the Langley village above.  We walked north after climbing down the barnacle encrusted cement steps leading to the beach.  The feathered clans were every where, crows, gulls and a solitary Blue Heron all at work finding things to eat.  Anchored just past the skirt of silt and sand was a boat with motored sounds coming from it.  From our initial perspective long blue hoses hung over the rail and into the hands of three people on the sandy spit.  It didn't take much to realize we were watching commercial clammers.  But what we both were seeing was something new to us.  When my son was a boy we lived now far from this Saratoga Pass beach, where we had a life very much involved with what goes on with Washington maritime life.  We shoveled uncountable holes over twenty plus years seeking out the bivalves that would feed us in chowders.  The enterprise was manual and it mattered that we covered up the holes when we were pau, and only took what we would eat.  Commerical clamming? 
The hoses were like an extreme power washing that blew the clams out of the holes and harvested as a result.  We didn't stay long enough to see whether they covered up the holes after. 

Walk, chat, silence.  Walk, chat, silence.  Time was spent in this simple and appreciative form of being together and nourishing.  Noticing life being lived by barnacles, mussels my son and I speculated on what we saw and made connections with our own lives.  Stepping on the irregular surfaces of rocky shore and mudflats my body exerted energy and moved the stale pockets of mana left from the long sedentary winter.  Transitions are like that:  irregular yet somehow expectantly familiar as one moves from that place over there, to the next space between, on the way to a new here.