Astrologer, published author, conference presenter, world traveler, founder & editor of Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging (1989-2001) , and founding visionary of Green Acres Permaculture Village (2010 to present).
For the past two months, I’ve been on an inner journey. It’s hard to say how long this journey will last. All I know is that once ignited, it has taken its own course.
And of course, I see this entire drama in terms of astrology, how current transits are affecting my natal chart. I cannot stress enough how astrology helps put things in perspective as well as promote healing processes.
The long term astro situation: transit Uranus is approaching its very first and only return to its natal place at 84 years. A huge event; once in a lifetime.
Natal Uranus at 1°Gemini, which itself is opposite natal Mars at 2° Sagittarius. So my very mental Uranus happens to be a more than usually fiery and “interruptive” energy. However, the original natal Mars/Uranus opposition is also subject to two natal energies which enclose it, one aiming to slow it down (Moon 23° Taurus) and the other to discipline or limit it (Saturn 7° Gemini).
This entire transit process began in earnest in the summer of 2023 as a motherly (Moon) feeling of increasing dread during June and July as Uranus approached the motherly Moon for the first time in my life. Then, when it got to an exact conjunction of the Moon, the dread climaxed with a horrific medical interruption that involved my 58 year old son Colin on August 16, 2023, an aortic dissection of both ascending and descending branches that should have killed him but instead left him paralyzed from the waist down and with painful nerve damage.
He’s been dealing with the damage ever since. I post daily on his agonizingly slow healing process here.
https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/colincudmorehealing
The interruption didn’t stop with Colin; it then switched to me. This time voluntarily. One year after Colin’s ordeal began, in mid-August this year, I decided, seemingly on the spur of the moment (very Mars/Uranus in air/fire signs) to experiment with intermittent fasting, two meals a day, with the goal of what’s called 18/6, i.e., 18 hours between the second meal one day and the first meal the next day.
Just to see if I could; and to see if it would bring my average 150 blood pressure down. Which it did.
I started with 16/8, one meal at 10 AM, and the other at 5 PM (so done by 6 PM). Then 17/7, and now, finally, for the past few weeks, 18/6: the first meal at noon and the second at 5 PM.
I’ve never in my very long life skipped breakfast. So intermittent fasting is a decided break in a lifelong routine.
Then, once that interruption was successfully set in motion, I decided, a few weeks ago, to see what I could do to interrupt my serious addiction to screens. Though, unlike most people, I don’t carry a phone with me on my long daily walks, I am either on screen, or have it open nearby, most of my other waking hours; plus, I take the ipad to bed with me, to help me get to sleep by listening to something not too interesting . . .
Okay. So I began this aspect of pattern interruptus on a Sunday, with the aim of being off-screen from 7 AM until 5 PM, except during daily one hour nap.
That went off okay.
Then I decided to do the same, and include nap in the screen fast.
That worked out okay too.
Then, and this was last weekend, I decided to go off screen from 7 AM to 7 PM. So a full 12 hours!
And even that worked.
Okay, then I began thinking about doing the same thing on Saturday, with the goal of eventually being off-screen a full 48 hours each week: from Saturday morning through Monday morning.
But: I knew that during this entire time I was seriously disturbing my “little girl,” that aspect of me I call “Orphan Annie,” who was already quite pissed at how I had interrupted her comfortable habit patterns. I knew that unless I gave her something in exchange, something that would make her feel pleased, that she would sabotage my intended 48-hour-per-week screen fast.
So . . . I decided to start on Saturdays by going for a walk with puppy Scampi somewhere nearby, but out of town, and so beyond my usual perimeter (which is 4-5 miles any direction from where I live in town). And then, take myself out to lunch somewhere interesting, leaving Scampi in the car (he doesn’t mind).
Today was the first day. I remained off screen from 8 AM until 2:00 PM (including one hour nap), going first for a walk on a trail at nearby Griffy lake and then out to lunch at a Korean restaurant.



If you are interested in doing your own version of pattern interruptus, i.e., letting go of whatever addictions that keep you bound in chains, I can’t stress enough the fact that the one who is addicted is the inner child. She must receive something in return for her terrible sacrifice!
Here’s a post on how I finally let go of cigarettes, after many attempts, each of which, when I failed, cemented the addiction further.
Reminder: I’ll be off-screen all of tomorrow, so no Sunday post.
I voted early this morning, standing in line with lots of people, both to pick up my ballot and to turn it in when done. The whole process took about 30 minutes.
I’ve voted early for many years; this is the first time I’ve noticed big crowds lined up.
Of course, on the way in, I paid attention to the crowded signs stuck into the one small, allowed, corner of the grass. All but two Democratic. Those two were, yes, Trump/Vance and one for Todd Rokita, AG for the state of Indiana since 2020 and is running for re-election.
I’ve liked him from the beginning. His latest controversy involves an investigation into the voting status of more than half million immigrants.
Bloomington, is a blue city in a red state. Especially blue because it’s also a university town.
Drive a few minutes out of city limits, in any direction, and blue shifts to red.
Sometimes I think about putting a Trump/Vance sign in this front yard. (If I did, it would be the first one I’ve seen in Bloomington . . .) However, I’m the only one who lives here who feels the way I do, so that doesn’t seem kosher.
Okay. How about my sign and the others put up Harris/Walz signs? Both in this front yard. What would that communicate to the world? And, would those who live here be able to tolerate the obvious division, which usually stays sub rosa, under the surface. As I always say to everybody, especially since the covid con divided us originally, “Let’s just stay with what we have in common.”
Oh well, it will soon be over, at least this initial part of the drama as as we head into November and December, which will likely feature one of the following:
If Trump wins by a landslide, then the left will use antifa to drum up hatred, rioting, etc., hoping to conjure up civil war.
If Harris cheats enough to appear to win, then the right will get organized, hopefully in a peaceful manner.
Or, another alternative, if, somehow, the election is postponed, then what? Likely CHAOS. Which actually appears to be the intention of globalists bent on destroying this nation which has served, in the past, as a beacon to the world. Ruin the U.S., and the entire world goes down.

Let each of us do our best to maintain our own equanimity as we head into what are undoubtedly to be exceedingly difficult times.
Let us aim to fill our hearts with the Love that powers the universe, and spread that healing balm into the hearts of those whose minds are closed, thereby subverting and transforming whatever nasty intention they have been programmed into.

”And you? My teacher looked up, his left eyebrow arched, pencil poised. 'I want to do a paper on the concept of time.’” I mumbled, timidly. 'Time?' He sniffed. “I wouldn’t touch the subject. Too difficult.” — AK, 1967
Ph.D. 83
Astrologer, published author, conference presenter, world traveler, founder & editor of Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging (1989-2001) , and founding visionary of Green Acres Permaculture Village (2010 to present).
Copyright © 2025 All rights reserved.
Hey Ben! Remind me of our connection. When and where,…