Jupiter has just entered Gemini, my eighth house, joining the general festivities which have been ongoing there this month.
But somehow my outlook has changed from mild exasperation to full-blown to hell with it, which in me comes across as offensively trivial, to some folks.
This is not a problem – in fact, I can’t see very many problems at all, speaking purely for myself.
So, you know, just excuse me if I suddenly become offensive to you.
Last night, I fell into some deeply liminal spaces. Many of my worst transgressions of the past rose up and made an earnest effort at haunting me. In real emotional pain, I found myself being held, enrapt, by the very ground and all the plant and microbial life within and upon it. Safely snuggled by the landbase, I fell asleep with the vivid image of a Tiger straining out of the background towards me. I felt no fear – big cats represent my shadow self, and almost invariably appear when I’m about to take a leap into the Dark.
This particular dark crossing has much to do with my discriminating, at last, among my Ancestors, and deciding who among them is truly a helpful spirit and who is not.
Three nights ago I dreamed that I was having to apologise to my Mom for forgetting to call her on my mobile. She was waiting for me, however, and I was gutted with guilt.
The next night I dreamt that I was desperately trying to call her, and having great trouble with the connection. Waking, I apologised again.
The evening after that, our local Spar supermarket was robbed at gunpoint by seven men driving a security vehicle. The manager was shot and later died in hospital, while one of the shop’s security guards was shot in the head but survived.
And I – wading deeper into the edges of the alam al mythal – have been plagued by the daimon of an elderly woman who is connected to the dead man in some way. It looks like a Death Walk is on the cards this New Moon, for me.
It is cold and dry in Joburg, and Sunday’s great winds have shaken the dead leaves right off the trees. And with this howling ice cold air I sink deeper, almost to the point of forgetting my living human connections at times. The dimension of Wyrd is compelling at this time of year, as if with every swirling brown and wrinkled leaf I am shedding another layer of enculturated ego. Falling backwards, arms outstretched, knowing the whole Earth is there to capture me.