Sudden Surprising Uranian Swerve! WHEE . . .

September 27, 2024

Wow . . . I continue to be amazed at how my experience with the political culture in this town is a fractal of every other locality — town, stage, region, etc. — in this beleagured nation.

It’s “the people vs. the government,” folks. And remember, “govern-ment”: govern the mind! NO. We won’t let them.

And, I must say, this entire experience has been unbelievably Uranian, with sudden shifts requiring continuous adjustment and dynamic balancing.

 

[Note: four or five previous posts!}

So, where we are now:

After a big committee planning meeting yesterday of those who would be attending and presenting at the next City Council meeting on October 1 that will decide our Green Acres neighborhood’s fate while feeling that final date breathing down our necks; after each of us had agreed to read, out loud, a certain two paragraph portion of what, one by one, we were going to present to the council — so to make certain not to use any words that might trigger anyone on the council in any way; after canvassing the entire 474 house GA neighborhood had begun again, for the third time, this time with renters in mind that we wanted to speak speak with personally, WE CALLED A SUDDEN HALT.

Why? Because our two elder advisors, both with decades of experience in the political culture of this town, had conferred, and advised us that not only would we lose, but our loss, rather than being a strategic win in the long run, would actually be a devastating slaughter, with long-term ramifications. That the city council is gunning for us.

Given that we in the GA neighborhood don’t have near the experience of understanding the atmospheric currents that currently govern this town as do our wise elders, we took their advice, and decided to call a halt, for now.

Not forever, but for now.

All that remains for us to do at our committee’s final Sunday 1 pm meeting, September 29th, is to take a formal vote among ourselves, and then decide how exactly to formally convey that to the council.

WOW!

 

OK. Given that we had suddenly been gifted with personal time on our hands, I decided to give myself with a reward: a 12 oz latte, which I drove to nearby Needmore, everyone’s favorite coffee place, to get. In other words, I went against my decision, three years ago, to not drink coffee ever again; plus, worse, I actually drove only four blocks, rather than walking there, to get it.

I laughed at myself for my forbidden actions. I not only no longer drink coffee, but have always unmercifully judged anyone who drives just few blocks to get one! But this bad girl reward seemed so perfect a contrast, after enduring three months of accelerating individual and group drama, with me trying to be good, so good, to use the “correct language,” to obey all kinds of confusing, sometimes conflicting, rules. . . FUCK IT! Insists my rebellious Uranus, this year beginning the (four-year process) of its first and only return to its own natal place after what will ultimately be 84 years!

Plus, I realize already: this intense drama not only took me out of my usual patterns, but has engendered new, and strong, bonds, both within our little committee, with others in the larger community, and especially, between us and our two beloved elders, to whom we are eternally grateful. Disaster narrowly averted. It further illustrates what I personally have worked so hard to achieve, all my life, the continuous dynamic balancing between opposites: in this case, within the self (obedience or rebellion?), between me and our our committee, between our committee and the larger political order, on and on.

Time to regroup. Already grateful for the enormous three month intensity we have already undergone that makes us feel more connected with each other . . . with even, I just now realized, our so-called “enemies” on the council! Each of us playing a part in a larger human drama, infused with both divine help and human comedy, oh! — and what would have been, on this final weekend, the weather, so that, given the dregs of hurricane “Helene” constantly whirling us for the next two days with rain and wind — canvassing looked mighty difficult! Though I, for one, had pledged to do it anyway. So good, so brave, so intrepid. Ha!

Enough of being good. Time to be bad, for the moment. Balance the opposites. Drink that forbidden coffee! Okay.

 

Mother Renee to the rescue . . .

September 26, 2024

See recent posts.

Oh my . . . yesterday, in the midst of my interior turbulence, I decided to do my daily yoga/chikung/taichi practices out in the backyard yurt, 4 PM. Determined to get and stay as present as possible for 40 minutes, to settle into spaciousness, beneath the racing, nervous mind.

And you know what? It worked!

Not only that, but yesterday, I realized afterwards, was my mother’s birthday! My mother, who was always at ease in family/social/cultural/political situations. My mother who, despite the responsibility of eight fractious children, utilized her Libra Sun’s light touch, backed by her powerful Scorpio Mars, with her always.

Her Sun, at 3° Libra, happens to conjunct both my Midheaven and my Neptune. I can learn from her ease while I’m unbridling my fiery energy now. Because that’s what happened out there: suddenly, afterwards, I realize that my frustrated fury (at the way the bureaucratic maze works locally (and everywhere!) had been unplugged. I was no longer fearful of the City Council turning us down. Because they probably will. And if they do, then let us leverage that fact to begin a local movement to preserve small affordable housing in Bloomington while simultaneously making way for multistory buildings. Both/and. Libra.

BTW: “small affordable housing” . . . what a beautiful goal for my natal Jupiter in home-loving Cancer, now transiting the Descendant (see previous posts). Cancer . . .  Mothering . . . nurturing those who need affordable housing in this growing town.

Meanwhile, our committee meets here at the Green Acres Urban Farm today to decide whether we actually will go forward with our seemingly doomed application to the City Council. And as one of us said to me the other day: even if we get one City Council person to think, to actually open his or her mind a teensy bit, “we will count that as a win.”

Yes. No matter the outcome, we win.

Thanks, Mom!