Formerly “mute,” I unleash the throat

November 4, 2025

Oh my! In response to yesterday’s post, dear friend Laura Bruno just reminded me of one line in an email to her a few days ago as also related to neck pain I concentrated on for yesterday’s post: “More and more, I feel myself becoming mute.”

I thought I was referring to the unseemly mess the world appears to be descending into, and yet I was also talking about myself in that statement, and wondered:

Is my embodied self a  caterpillar melting into chrysallis state?

Taurus, by governing the throat, also governs the voice!

So am I transforming into a butterfly?

Well, certainly, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve undergone a prolonged dying/ death/rebirth process. Indeed, over and over again, at every level and in many dimensions, such has been my fate (my destiny?) as a puny human on planet Earth during this extraordinary time.

Today and yesterday evening, three encounters, with increasing levels of intensity . . .

On this morning’s walk, I came across an oldish woman coming out of my bank to whom I found myself pointing out the crisscrossing chem trails loading the eastern and southeastern sky this morning. I had just taken photos of them. I went on to mention how they poison everything, trees, plants, us . . . She looked startled. I then wondered, out loud: “Who is doing this?”

Perhaps she had never before heard anyone refer in this manner, to the sky? Had she known about chem trails herself? If so, I doubt she has differentiated them from con trails.

But then she said, “And I was just taking photos of trees against a clear blue sky. . . ”

She didn’t say this to dispute me. She said it because she could: much of the sky is still clear blue; the chem trail haze has not yet drifted down.

I’ll be our very real encounter set her mind aflame.

 

A bit earlier, on my usual four mile walk with puppy Scampi, I had come across an old geezer, who was planting two trees with another, much younger man. I asked: “Is the city planting these? Or the owner of this house.”

“The city,” he answered. The city is currently sponsoring? encouraging? an organization called

https://www.canopybloomington.org/

While I applaud the effort (but wonder who really, is funding it; and does it include federal money to the city about to be removed?), I also think we need more land without trees inside the city. Like the totally green grass lawn with no trees across from where we were standing. I said: “Wouldn’t it be great if that turned into a vegetable garden?” He loved the idea, and says his wife wants fewer trees, rather than more: so that she can grow a vegetable garden at home.

I then pointed out how the owner of that house would most likely not allow such a wonderful vision to be realized on his lawn. That all he cares about is renters who pay top dollar. That the values of this country are totally screwed up, that really, “money” is a mere scrim over nature. That we don’t value nature, we don’t even value our own bodies! That Descartes was right! “I think, therefore I am.” Well, this really got him going. He loved it; I could see lightbulbs popping internally.

Then, he said, in a wondering, vulnerable manner: “It’s so wonderful when people like you and I can meet.” And then pointed to his young partner, currently shoveling, silent, smiling: “He too; he thinks the same way.”

As I started to go I pointed him in the direction, one block away, of greenacresvillage.org, our gigantic garden on the one of our three lots that had started out as an enormous green grassy space. “Drive back that way,” I said.

 

Now here’s what’s really weird: I had nearly the identical conversation, though it went deeper and much longer into the philosophical angle, last night at our regular monthly dinner with Brownstone Supper Club (search “Supper Club” on this site, two entries).

The man across the table from me — who has degrees in both engineering and law, and has worked as a lawyer for many years, but, he says, embarrassed, even abashed, “I don’t like many of them,” mentioning their money and status-based value system — kept asking me question after question. This, after hearing that I have a doctorate in philosophy (and no, not from IU, I said, but from Boston University), but had turned rogue back in 1973, having been “fired from an experimental college for being too experimental.”

Well, this got him going. He kept encouraging me, more more! So I spilled all the beans. And midway through marveled out loud at how he was the very first person in my very long life to show such great interest in an extended manner . . .

How the entire history of western philosophy that segued into the history of science, starting with Descartes (unless you want to go back even further: as Wittgenstein said: “It’s hard to go back to the beginning and not go further back”) ignited the still ongoing “mind/body split.” How the entire so-called and much lauded scientific enterprise is merely left brained, not at all connected to right brain intuition; encouraging that separation of body and (merely logical) mind, and yet with body considered both much more “real” (i.e., material) than mind, but! — seen as dumb, mute, a mere object in space, like any other.

On and on; how the rise of AI was utterly inevitable, given how it mimics the functions of the left brain.

We probably talked, intensely, for 30 minutes, with him asking me question after question, leading himself down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. I kept feeling that we were resonating with the same (formerly unconscious) questions within him as have beset me on a conscious level for so many decades.

I didn’t refer to myself, and my own processing right now; just kept it to a philosophical discussion. But he was both floored and thrilled. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s had an authentic connection with a stranger that he just met, who descended, with him, into an much larger comprehension of what we are all going through as this all-too-human world appears to descend into madness.

BTW: I will be the speaker at our Supper Club’s next, December, meeting. More on that tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

Pain in the Neck, AGAIN . . .

November 3, 2025

Over the past few days I have been working with memories, as they are buried in the body. Was going to post this morning, but then technical difficulties, again, which finally cleared.

So here we are. Lots of confusion in the world today, symbolized by the ongoing retrograde journey of both Saturn and Neptune in late Pisces prior to returning to 0° Aries on February 20, 2026. Between now and then, expect to be flooded emotionally! 

I’m going to put up what I’ve come up with so far now.

 

Four days ago, I woke up with a slight crick in the back of my neck, left side. Despite my usual daily exercise (4 mile walk, yoga, chikung, taichi), it did not go away. Which surprised me. I have not had a pain in the neck for many many years, though this occasion reminded me of former times, especially that time in the ‘90s when it got so bad that I wore a neck brace for months, and saw a chiropractor once a week. 

What? I was going to repeat a pattern from the past? A no-fun pattern? Aha, and just when I was beginning to think that I might be able to live not only through my first ever Uranus Return (82 to 84-year cycle!), but to complete my third Saturn cycle (30 years each, to 90), and hell, who knows, maybe even live through another full Saturn cycle to 120 years! 

Truly, this IS how apparently delusional, I suspect now, I had become, given my unusually strong energy and ability of my body to instinctively correct any stumbles — all of which I attribute to seriously disciplined (Saturn) nutrition and exercise patterns as I near my 83rd birthday.

So perhaps this pain in the neck was a reminder? Do not get too “full of yourself,” Ann. Which reminds me of my mother, who was known to blurt, exasperated: “Who do you think you are?!?” And, the more colorful “How did I spawn you?”

The status of my health, BTW, has not been “measured” by the MIC (Medical Industrial Complex). With the exception of orthopedics (and eyes, and teeth), I do not see doctors. So who knows what “tests” of various kinds might show? I’m not interested in that kind of assessment, but instead, rely on multidimensional, multifactorial mind/soul/spirit relationships with my own emotional/physical body. 

What does my body say to me now? — I ask, whenever a “symptom” appears. What is it trying to tell me? How have I gone off-balance? What does this symptom symbolize?

That night, the crick became more pronounced; I found it difficult to sleep, no matter how I readjusted head and neck on the pillow. 

On Friday, I gingerly spread a few drops of DMSO, mixed with coconut oil, on the back of my neck, and repeated it several times that day. (I have never used DMSO before). The DMSO seemed to spread the pain around my neck in general, and render it slightly less painful. Good. Maybe it was going to recede now.

But Friday night, even more difficulty sleeping. In fact, as I lay awake for hours in the early AM, with I’d say a (4 out of 10) continuous radiating level of neck pain, I figured if it doesn’t recede on its own, I’d set up an appointment with a chiropractor on Monday morning. To myself: “Is there a worthwhile chiropractor in town? I haven’t had much luck with them in the past.” 

But then, in the middle of my insomniac blur, I began to seriously contemplate the last time this had happened, back in the 1990s; and furthermore, to move consciously into the pain, experiencing it as the body’s attempt to let me know that there still are memories stored in the neck, memories that need to be processed, worked through.

Wow. This was new. Hmmm. . . Okay. In the morning I looked at the astrology of this time, and the last time, and realized that both were connected to the progressed Moon’s crossing of, first 23° Taurus Moon, then Uranus/Mars at 1°-2° Gemini/Sagittarius, then Saturn at 7° Gemini.

Oh wait a minute! I thought it was 1996, but actually that was back even further, in 1992. 

PPP_ PAIN IN THE NECK

 

And guess what?

Back then, transit Pluto in Scorpio was criss-crossing exactly opposite my natal 23°02 Moon. And, looking back on the essay I wrote about that experience, I realize that not only was it prolonged, but it was more intense and revealing than this one is. Much more Plutonian, you might say. Death/rebirth to the max. And processing especially childhood memories.

In order to figure out what happened the last time progressed Moon went over not just the natal Moon, but the entire three-planet configuration — Moon/Uranus/Saturn and four, if you include Mars/Uranus opposition — I’ll have to look back at essays written during that time. Mid-90s. No opportunity for that today . . .  

This slow, year-long progressed Moon journey over the most difficult four planet configuration in my natal chart happens every 27.5 years. So this is my third experience with this progression.  I have already looked back to the first time. Found memories there which also made sense.

Too much to go into here. But just know that I am one of the people who investigate repeating patterns in my life not just by probing memories, but by discovering the astrological configurations to which they correlate, both transits and progressions. Looping encounters with the same traumatic signature, the intensity of which seems to lessen each time, IF I process these experiences consciously. And that as I do, the bodily difficulties I encounter tend to dissolve.

Oh, and BTW, I just remembered: the sign Taurus governs the neck, where the connection between body and mind is most obvious. Moon in Taurus is “exalted,” that is to say, works unusually intensely, since both have strong reference to the body.

By Sunday, the neck was much better, no DMSO needed: last night, no special concern about my neck as I slept. Truly, this four day experience felt somewhat miraculous, given my history with intense and prolonged neck issues.

The body holds our memories. And for me, the body is especially focused through the Moon, in stable, steady, stubborn Taurus. Pain in the neck, through trying to hold on too tightly, to keep things steady, to refuse to change. Of course, the progressed Moon’s crossing of first its own natal placement, and then Uranus and then Saturn each time (since they exist natally within a span of 14 degrees, the end of Taurus, and the beginning of Gemini) brings both body (Taurus) and mind (Gemini) into the fray. Which one will dominate? That’s the unconscious way of experiencing this combo.

Two nights ago, while applying tiny amounts of the DMSO combo, I started to wonder if I would even need the chiropractor this time. Because I had begun, in a very real way, to sink back into memories while lying abed in the middle of the night, inviting the body to speak to me. My sweet body gave me a vision: of someone clutching the back of my neck and pushing me forward into some horrible situation that I preferred not to remember. When was this? Did it really happen? In this lifetime?

Then, this morning, I had another vision, again in the form of a memory: of the time when Dick, the man who had been my first love, boyfriend throughout high school and into first year of college, came for a visit. This was in my 20s. He also has a Taurus Moon, very near my own. (We later married, and were together in a wondrous, sensual, sexual manner for one year before my Sagittarian need for total freedom began to chaff, and after another memorable year of processing together, whisked me away from that thoroughly stable, sensuous ground.) 

As I walked him back to his car from our visit in our 20s, he had put his hand around my neck, as a natural gesture, I’m sure, of connection, care. But to me, instinctively, it felt like he was trying to capture me, control me; treat me as his possession. Though I didn’t mention it at the time, that memory stayed with me for years, and resurfaced just yesterday morning, while on my walk!

I’m sure there’s much more to this story. Many more memories to plumb. But I do think that this pain in the neck is not only valuable, but extremely instructive; and that I will likely not visit a chiropractor but instead, do what I counsel others to do: listen to my body, what is it trying to tell me? How can I help it release the tension of stored memories, from this life, and perhaps into the even deeper past?

Certainly back to when I was an infant anyway, when my lonely cries in my crib were a pain in the neck for my grandparents, with whom my mom had taken shelter when her young husband was shipped overseas, to World War II. My cries got so insistent, my frustration so intense, that I would rock the crib across the room. 

My grandfather finally put a stop to it, by nailing the crib to the floor.