Note: Wow. Wrote this on November 17, and forgot to post it . . . Still relevant, so I will now. And BTW: just yesterday, a friend of mine did the same thing: almost, but not quite, blew it: similar circumstances, similar knee jerk reaction, and so on.
My chart. See Mars, on left, at 2°41 Sagittarius, opposite Uranus at 1°35 Gemini.
If you recall, I’ve been beset by a Saturn transit, squaring two natal planets, Mars and Uranus. (Saturn rules teeth, among other things; see the three tooth drama, posts 11/14-11/16).
Notice Mars, on left, at 2°41 Sagittarius, opposite Uranus at 1°35 Gemini.
(If you check the ephemeris, it’s obvious that transit Uranus is also nearing my Taurus Moon, but that’s another story. In all, this natal aspect pattern — which, in total, includes Mars/Uranus/Saturn, with Moon nearby, trined and sextiled by Neptune/Midheaven and Pluto — will be activated, and in this case, pummeled, for years to come. Then add in the upcoming Pluto opposition to itself (for the first and only time, since Pluto’s cycle is 248 years) during the same years, and I know I’m either going to die in earnest or die to my present self. Not surprising, since I’m in my 9th decade!)
And now, transit Mars, Laura Bruno reminds me, is about to enter Sagittarius, and thereby conjunct my natal Mars and oppose natal Uranus. That’s on November 24. Okay, I’ve got a few days to figure out how to position myself for the no doubt increased eruptive effects of my original natal Mars/Uranus opposition presently squared by transit Saturn!
Hmm . . . shall I stop driving a car, at least for the time being?
Because, four days ago, in my car, I underwent a Saturn/Mars/Uranus drama that lasted only a split second, and almost, but not quite, killed me.
I was driving home, through my Green Acres neighborhood, slowing to a stop at each intersection, and looking both ways prior to crossing. BUT: at one of these intersections, I did not see a car coming; no, it must have been hurtling towards me. In other words, I looked both ways, but in this case, not far enough. For as I started to cross I heard a loud long horn, and blinked to see a car pass my car within a fraction of an inch. In fact, I’d say this was one of those times when time and space morph to allow what needs to happen without tragic result.
Of course I was chastened, and vowed to look much further down the road, especially at this intersection.
Then day before yesterday, I narrowly averted another intense, eruptive drama, this one psychological/emotional, rather than physical.
I have been emailing the Green Acres Permaculture gmail group, re: having T-Day dinner here for any strays who don’t have family to dine with. (This is in lieu of what had been my habit, to go out with my son Colin Cudmore for dinner that day. Now that he’s “otherwise engaged,” my habits had to change too.) I have had some responses to my quest, both definitely yes and unfortunately no, but wondered about one person who I knew wouldn’t have anywhere to go otherwise. So I texted him personally. Are you going to join us? And received a long paragraph in return talking about how he will never attend another Thanksgiving Day dinner as long as indigenous people are still being massacred.
Wow! Oh, that’s right! That IS the origin story of this particular holiday. And in fact, I remember blogging about it years ago. But what I want to articulate here, is how, once again, I narrowly averted what could have been a horrific clash between me and this person.
Because my immediate reaction was: “Oh so you think you’re better, more morally, politically correct, than everyone else, huh?” His response had felt like a big blow to my ego. Which went into instant reactive mode, humming with desire to lash out, tell him off, and so on.
Instead, I sat there, noticing my inner state, my need to tell him off, to go tit for tat, because that’s how I was interpreting his paragraph. And as I kept sitting there, I moved into what it must like to be him, and realized that yes, he was suffering from the horrific massacres that are going on now, and was totally reminded of what the colonists did to the indigenous peoples here: signing treaties that they never meant to keep, introducing diseases, killing off buffalo herds, making them undergo forced marches, finally corralling them onto the poorest, most arid lands and sending off their kids to be indoctrinated.
Yuck. For a minute, I dwelled in that sorry tale too.
But then, another, larger part of me just texted back: “Hey, can we just celebrate, thankful that we have each other?”
Didn’t hear back by text. But then, a few hours later, he appeared, looking bright and friendly. I asked again, and this time with an addition: “Hey, how about coming, and we’ll do some kind of ceremony acknowledging the origins of Thanksgiving, apologizing for that travesty, while actually being thankful to get together? Despite the horrors the whole world is once again going through?”
He immediately agreed, saying, “What’s important is that we focus locally, right here at home, to bring in another reality entirely.”
As I said, I just underwent another near miss, another Mars/Uranus luckily reconfigured by disciplined Saturn, which helped me to stop, and witness what I was wanting to say, the outburst my snarky self was eager to express. Instead, the two of us created a third, and larger reality, that combines the other two.
So. When Mars starts to pummel this ongoing Saturn/Mars/Uranus configuration, maybe I should just stay home and shut up? No, I don’t think so. This is an even more profound opportunity to consciously model a personal alternative to armageddon, here inside my own all-too-human being; here, inside this neighborhood, this town, this state, this region, this country, this world.
