Archive for March 1st, 2010

A friend of mine wrote a poem that I love. It’s a haunting poem, about lingering love. The poet has Neptune squaring her Sun, Moon and Mercury; and trining her Venus.  She uses these squares very well and fairly drips with creativity: whether it be with a pen or a paintbrush.

Writing is cathartic: you can write away your sorrows or your unfulfilled loves, you can write away your angst or put your dreams into words. It calms the heart. As does reading. Reading also connects us to others, lets us peep into their lives, their hearts. You had your heart broken? So did I. You had a few dreams you had to bury? So did I. You felt the glory and triumph as your heart soared when you went chasing a dream? So did I.

Reading lets us know we are not alone. That the feelings we feel are universal. Then we can smile at our heartaches and laugh while we wipe away a lingering tear. It’s like having a heartfelt conversation with an old friend: nothing changes after it, but you are comforted. The scattered pieces of your heart fall back into their rightful places.

Neptune makes the heart long for something out of this world, something dimly perceived. In many lives, this manifests as repeatedly falling in love with an idealized image of another person (usually unattainable). With a misty dream. This is what Jeffrey Kishner says about Venus-Neptune contacts in his post Embrace Your Longing: “The Sufi poet Rumi wrote that the heartache associated with yearning for Divine connection is the connection itself.” Read his post, he’s done a great job of capturing Neptune’s elusive longings in words.

Here is the poem I promised you:


Recommend a cure, please, would you?
You did so well finding your little pill
It was so simple and seasonal, your flu

Instruct me on taking these corners, could you?
You turn and leap and travel yours so well
I limp and retrace and hunt for glue

Show me the way to play, please, would you?
I falter, fumble, drop the pass
By then you’ve scored, high-fived, had the new

Show me how to slough the words off, please, would you?
I keep re-labelling, measuring, checking
You’ve switched tags, lasered the tattoo

Talk me through how to sleep and wake, please, would you?
I fear sleep and pace through endless foreign night
But you slumber and your dawn brings untasted dew

Allow me to mimic your moods, please, would you?
I bulwark myself, savage my pillow, overtangle the knot
Judge and err, count and care what was fog, what true

I’m sorry to keep asking HOW.
And WHY.
It’s just – you just made it look so easy
My guru, my folly, my darling friend.
How you glided and alchemied and sorcerered into my dark
And then cheerfully will-o’-the-wisped to the end.

A word for the poet: Darling, if you’re reading this, your Venus does trine Neptune, you know. And maybe you will find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It may not be this particular rainbow, but the rains will come soon and there will be other rainbows that light up the sky.

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Linda Goodman is my reading equivalent of “comfort food.” I don’t mean to be disparaging. Far from it. Her prose sparkled the first time I read it, and it still does. An astrologer I know, who’s also a published author, told me that Ms. Goodman has done more to popularize astrology than all the other writers combined. Perhaps that was just a Jovian hyperbole, but her popularity is undeniable.

It’s true that sun sign astrology is less than the tip of the iceberg, but it reaches the masses. It keeps the tradition alive in the consciousness of many. Many who will one day become astrologers or clients of the aforementioned astrologers.

I know some very respectable astrologers who started their journey with Linda Goodman. I didn’t. I started with family story that led me to Cheiro and eventually brought Linda Goodman to me. What kept me walking this path, and still does, are the astrologer-writers whose work is a joy to read.

And there is no finer writer than Ms. Goodman. Her Sun Signs still holds appeal and she still dazzles me with her Love Signs. Even her Relationship Signs, a book about aspects in synastry, is a fun read. She’s fun, yes, but she knows her astrology and she’s a great teacher.

But you know what? She wanted to be remembered as a poet. So keeping that in mind, I want to post a poem of hers. This poem isn’t addressed to any man I ever loved; it speaks to something inside of me.  Here is it, from the book Venus Trines at Midnight:

…..to be absolutely honest
as you’ve carefully taught me to be
        you’re still a little off center
investigating truth 
         without consequences
and doing your thing…
         playing with platitudes
reading books about Buddha
to learn how to die, before you’ve started to live
straining emotions through a sterile sieve
and scrubbing your squeaky-clean ivory tower
         with Brillo pads
each morning
…but you’re improving

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