Okay. Time to share. As an Aries, born on April 4 in the year 1966, Mercury retrograde actually does some down-home good things to my soul. I’ve never quite understood the *why,* but I damn sure get the when and how. I feel renewed, energized and almost unreasonably cheery about anything and everything–just at the time that everyone around me falls apart. I feel, um, activated. All major decisions are (wisely) put aside for a bit and, in their stead, I gather energy like a sponge plunged in a bathtub. Yupper. And sit around wondering: What in the holy hell is wrong with everyone? And then I research and find: 2013’s retrograde are all in . . . WATER SIGNS.
Ah. Now I see. Then add in that Mercury is our messenger, messages are going awry and the Universe is having Her way. Delicious, watery chaos. Lovely to me–cleansing and as violent as the Atlantic against a rocky coastline– but a hot-southern-mess-of-a-state for damn near everyone in my tribe. (Have I told y’all that ALL of my students ‘cept one Aries, my husband and two sisters are water signs? Mmm hmm.) Knowing this was a’ comin’ like a tornado in Alabama, I prepared. And so, having watched just the beginnings of the crab-boil that is our current retrograde, I thought I’d sit down a spell and chap some asses before too much more water damage hits the front porch:
1. Re-read the Four Agreements. Underline everything that has to do with “not taking it personally.” Sip tea, not whiskey, during this endeavor.
2. You are gonna miss folks during this time: those whom you have loved and lost, misunderstood, missed . . . and you are going to want to clear up so much twisted word. My advice? Write it all down. Think it all through. Weigh it all out. Do not text/post/call without some heavy divination and thinking lessen you want to make it even worse. (Seriously. I have taken folks “back” during this time to my own painful chagrin and paid for it in spades later. Weigh everything.)
3. Put down that judgement stick. Half the universe has lost its damn mind: give them the same space to muck up right now. (At least, as long as it’s not too severe. Iffin they need a serious ass-whoopin’, do it in April. There’s always time for ass-whoopins.)
4. If it cannot wait, think out your words before calling (and for hopping John’s sake, at least call. Text/email/FB are not adequate measures of emotional delivery.) Weigh every word.
5. Energy in retrograde makes AUDACIOUS shadow work time. Stop critiquing everyone else’s behavior, upbringing and unfashionable choice of shoes and sit down with a candle and a pen. You’ve got work to do, your own self.
6. Plan. Think ahead. Plant inside seeds, write lists, check out books from the library, clean out your closets and paint your toenails. Be reflective about everything . . . and reflexive about NOTHING. Except for maybe number 7.
7. Have sex. That’s right. Bang somebody you love and don’t think so much; leave thoughts like “but the jerk forgot the paper towels” or “woman done hollered at my muddy shoes one too many times” off to the side and just bang like bunnies. When thoughts fail you, feel. Sex, done right, heals the flesh and the spirit. Follow with a nice bowl of ice cream and a snuggle. (Although, I don’t posture that this advice would translate to “bang somebody new.” Uh-uh. And: ignore if you are under the age of consent. Go bang your homework and put THAT down. You ain’t ready for number seven and I’m gonna tell yor’ momma.)
8. Write down every apology, declaration of love and verbal upbraiding bubbling in your chest. Then put it away and wait. Re-read in a month for possible “right” action or burn iffin it sounds like Scarlet O’Hara on crack. At fourteen.
9. Take nice long, hot showers and baths. Do it up with candles, hot tea or good wine, and languish in them until they go cold. Water is wondrous in its detoxing properties–and yes. It’s okay every now and again to wallow in it. Make up for it later. (We have well water and the shower pipes lead to our yucca plants. Damn happy yucca plants.)
10. While this is a time for reflection, that does not mean beat-yor’self-silly-with-the-guilt-stick. Reflection can also be a fine hour of remembering the healthy friendships, the Solid Gold memories of family and the achievements you have earned. Honor them, as well. Pick yourself some daffodils and put them on the meal table. Hold a healing circle in which you honor those things in your life that were worth every blessed moment. Reflect upon and let go of those whom have injured or damaged your spirit like so much seed on the wind. Take the time to tell folks that they saved your ass, stopped you from battle or warmed your tired bones in this thing we call life. Personally, as an Aries, I also need to write letters to those who have hurt me–then burn them. Letting go is a daily process for some of us. So be it.
In other words: Laws, y’all. Cut it the fuck out. We are Pagan. We understand the Universe as capable of screwing with everything from our zits to our dreams, so why do we react as though we ain’t been to school? Let me tell you a story. ( I know, I know. Another story. Have I told you that I’m from Alabama?)
So, the middle child (now working on 21 years of young age) is a Taurus. (I’ve told you this one before.) So, I put his uppity, bull-ass in his room as he is embarrassing his ancestors and trying my steady hand. Long about an hour in to his “banishment from the family hearth,” I hear all this uproar coming from his young mouth and his size four foot, hollerin’ all I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. (Now, remember. I’m an Aries. But even we can learn.) So. I saunter up to said door and with my best Momma voice I say: Who you talkin’ to, boy? Not me, I reckon. Silence. Then he says: This, this stupid chair! Why, I hate this doggone chair and I told it so!
Mmm hmm. Little bull in full-on retrograde. Broke that damn chair in four pieces, he did, and didn’t even get spanked over it. Why?
Good mommas know when to let their boys “get ‘er all out.” He weighed his words, didn’t call me “chair,” lol, or the chair “momma.” (Later, we went to the thrift store and picked a new one out. Baby boy did chores for a month in payment and still adores that thrifty chair. Lesson = learned.)
Which brings us to the odd number 11 (a fact I kinda enjoy):
If someone is kicking and screaming and variously acting a carpet-baggin’ fool, remove them to the other room of your life. Leave ’em over there while they wail on. Give them something non-animate to kick and stay back. Go watch your stories, call your friends, ponder at tree frogs, but: do not take it personally and do not let them make it so. Time out for asshattery. If they don’t get their act back together, that’s not on you. While we cannot make people act right, we have complete control of how WE REACT TO THEM. I’ve found that “time out” works just dandy–long as I’m in the back forty eating barbecue and watching fireflies. Why let anyone take your happy? Why let them ruin supper? Why let them make everyone at yor’ table cringe at their fit? Naw, y’all. Life is too short for that–and retrograde *anything* is not a good enough excuse to lose precious hours of peaceful breathing.
Sorry for the non-poetic post. I reckon Mercury stole my sonnet. Until next time, do no harm.
But take no shit. (And pray for summer.)