Even in the snow on a cold cold day, there’s exhilaration and anticipation in the returning light. If projects are not ready for implementation, they can at least be imagined, and possibilities begin to supplant the pessimism and doubts.
All the planets of the zodiac are moving direct now, and Mercury has left its shadow zone. The waxing moon makes today through Saturday an excellent time for a ritual to the sun goddess Brigid.
It’s been snow alternating with freezing rain and rain where I live, definitely indoors weather.
But the stars are looking positive for some magic. Mercury and Mars have both gone direct. The New Moon on the 21st looks like a good time to initiate projects. I went ahead this week and sent another query for one of my novels. Fingers crossed.
Well, I started to write a longish blogpost for today, tentatively titled “A Brief History of Magic,” but I got some bad news and couldn’t finish writing it. Nothing that, probably, won’t be fixed, but of the bureaucratic nightmare variety. Today I have a flat tire and I’m waiting (and waiting and waiting) for roadside service to call back.
What is going on in my stars? I don’t know for sure, but something. It’s difficult to read your own chart sometimes. I’ve been getting mired in one agency flub-up after another, all threatening my livelihood and none from mistakes on my part (which is the good news–bureaucracies are not very forgiving). Mercury is retrograde, but there’s probably more going on, since this has been a theme for a year now.
About this time last year, I got thrust into the exorbitant housing market as my landlord (a church that prides itself on liberal politics) decided to cash in on a housing shortage caused by AirBnB and COVID. Also de facto lost my job at the same time. Had to come up with another job and another deposit and $800+ in moving fees plus other nickel-and-dime expenses associated with a move. Then I had to hire a lawyer to get my deposit back from the church. (Keene Valley Congregational. Terrible people. The whole village has become filled with rich woke mean assholes. The kind of people who put signs in their yard declaring how progressive they are, while not returning your rent deposit.)
I don’t know how I survived, in retrospect. I suppose I’ll get through this bump too, but I’m getting tired of these punches to the gut. I do have a better job now. I also have a place to live, one that’s far far away from the job, and too small, and too expensive, but I know I was damn lucky to find any place that would let me keep the cat.
I have an optimistic Aries nature, but I’m not a happy camper right now. In a week or two I’ll either get back to magical history or share what went haywire with my stars.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
Next year all our troubles will be miles away
This song, from Meet Me in St. Louis, is for people who struggle through the season. Every time Judy sings about our troubles being out of sight (next year), I hope that’s true – although the joyous Christmas deferred seems more unlikely with each passing year. But it occurred to me today that it’s always been true. My troubles of last Solstice are a vague memory, and I have a whole new set of problems. The challenges of last year have been met, or else they seem less daunting.
Along the lines of struggling Christmas is my favorite lesbian movie, Carol. The movie captures the desperation of the era. People have suffered through the Depression and WWII and there’s a compulsion to express joy. We’re together again, the material deprivations are in the past, we must be happy. No one wants to admit that there are deeper issues that need to be addressed. A satisfying movie, despite the somber themes.
I would say nobody could match Cate Blanchett for a sexy Yuletide performance, except there’s the sultry Kim Novak in Bell, Book and Candle. Jimmy Stewart atones here for the sappy It’s a Wonderful Life. Also starring Jack Lemmon.
Speaking of Jack Lemmon, here’s another favorite with a Christmas theme, one which also dwells on the vapidity of the season. The Apartment, has Shirley MacLaine as Lemmon’s pert love interest and Fred McMurray playing a real skunk.
It’s actually a television episode, not a movie, but Christmas dinner with the Fishers in Six Feet Under deserves an honorable mention. The first episode of the series, where the patriarch dies, also takes place on Christmas.
Best wishes of the season. Holly Jolly and all that. That’s it for now from your queen of dysfunctional Christmas. If I have time this year, I’ll make a video collage of tacky outdoor holiday decorations. But no promises. If I don’t get to it, I know you’ll muddle through somehow.
I encounter deer on the road with disturbing frequency. It’s hard to predict when and where they’ll appear.
A week ago, a deer ran in front of my car on a busy road in town next to the hardware store and the pharmacy. It wasn’t a place where I would have expected to see a deer, though it wasn’t exactly odd either.
What was unusual is that my car’s electronic eyesight, which is often oversensitive, didn’t react. What was downright bizarre is that I slammed on the brakes without seeing the deer. I looked around afterward to see why I had stopped the car.
Deer are embassidors from the spirit realm. They are fairy creatures. In this case, the deer was telling me that my psychic senses were more active than I realized.
One of the best ways to hone psychic skills is to make space for “down time.” Daydreaming is important to intuition and creativity. I struggle with a world where constant work and productivity are valorized and even coerced. Sometimes I envy people who can work long hours and who need little sleep, but I realize I would not be the person I am if I had those talents.
