I knew that this Venus retrograde would be transformative for me. It's hitting all of my angles as a Scorpio rising, but astrology is archetypally predictive. It's like knowing it's going to rain, but not knowing what it will feel like.
We know, for example, that a Venus retrograde in Leo is naturally going to bring up themes of courage, purity, authenticity, love, and creativity. We know that Venus retrogrades are times of realizing what matters to us and why and how we haven't been acting in accordance with that value in the past. It's a deeply humbling time and like, not to be dramatic, but we often emerge from a Venus retrograde (any retrograde) completely changed if we can integrate the lessons.
We gripe, we complain about the retrograde process. It's itchy, it's uncomfortable. It requires a deeper look when we're already exhausted from existence and all that it asks of us. We would rather avoid, stay "delulu" if you will. It's much easier to not know because once you do, you are required to change. If you choose to stay the same once you know, life becomes destructive, this is why we say ignorance is bliss and that the wiser are sadder for it (this is the Leo-Aquarius opposition).
Last Venus retrograde, I had an experience that I've been searching to understand, to try to figure out what went wrong, and how, and why. When we get hurt, we often become cynical. Cynicism is a shield that we cover ourselves in. We start to take the logical approach to life, we try to understand where something is going before it happens, we don't want to go through whatever happened last time ever again. I think, this is what I did. It's just like with astrology, or human design, or really any system that requires study. We often pick it up because we want to know, we want to prevent, we want to be better next time. Learning can be enriching, but it can also become the most accessible device for cynicism.
The intellectuals sharpen their minds like weapons, creating rules instead of boundaries, cutting things and people off before they've even had a chance at revealing themselves. It's so obvious to see, when it's written out like this, that this is a trauma response. This is how we understand and rationalize hurt. We never want to be hurt again, so we may fool ourselves into thinking that prevention to suffering is possible through intellect, but it isn't. The "holier than thou" astrologer who tries to find precision in their work is missing out on the great wonder it is to experience the planets instead of rationalize them. It's easy to start out logically with astrology, but the deeper you go, the more you realize that this is not a logical practice. There is not a one size fits all. There is certainly no formula or technique that can fully grasp the larger spirit of a chart and all that is in that moment of time. The moment before we take our first breath, there is a pause before birthing a human that will live and breathe and impact the soul of the world, and we've reduced it to a circle with symbols.
This is patriarchal astrology.
Trying to make a great wonder into a digestible, logical, respectable work instead of accepting it as an illogical, inexplainable work of art. There is no greater horror than realizing that you've become a cynical intellectual who fluffs up their paragraphs with words and yet you are not saying anything at all and you have simply become a living projection of all the books you own. When we die, we cannot take the books, the intellect with us. All that you're left with is the never-nurtured-hurt-soul that you tried to throw facts at instead of listening to the cosmic book it already is. Those who know nothing of astrology fall into the planets without knowing, we do not need knowledge to truly know. It is only ever a validation of what is already there, hanging in the moment.
Now, obviously, astrology is my passion. I don't think I could ever live so unconsciously now, giving up this flame, but I do think there is a difference between the egoic cynical astrologer and the foolishly wise magician.
We are taught that certain things– money, recognition, followers, the collection of earth things on our shelves, the perfectly mastered song, the right software, a curated skincare routine. These things seem to matter, but this is the shield of cynicism. It reminds me of when I split from my partner of 3 years and all we did was focus on who got what, when the lease ended, which cat went with who, looking back, none of that mattered at all. It is these surface level things that we lean on in times of survival. We may focus on the material like it is glue to keep our hearts from shattering at the perceived waste of time this all seemed to be. We can't bare looking at the empty bank account, or the empty home, or the jobless day ahead, because it seems to reflect failure by the standard of the world.
I think for me, a Scorpio rising, with Venus retrograde kissing my MC, I have realized that I have been creating how I think I should. Using what has worked for others in my industry. Trying to make money, because in this world it is how we survive.
Leo talks about survival. The frantic workings of the ego is for our survival. It is trying to use our mind to scan for the most logical next step. But what happens when logic fails? When putting yourself in the best position– going after what you want, doing more, trying harder– what happens when doing what works for everyone else isn't working? What happens when those things don't achieve happiness? What happens when you've read all the books, and you've trained, and you've applied all you've learned, and the bank account is emptier, the house is quieter, the belly is hungrier?
And this whole time you've been working to avoid those uncomfortable, itchy, dissonant, hungry feelings. Sharpening your mind, your skills, schooling your face into a brick wall just to find that all of that retreat has only made that dissonance louder. This is what happens when we let logic consume, when we model our lives off of someone else's version of success.
I launched Lunation, a monthly subscription, fully knowing that it would go through some kind of a transformation. I didn't know why I needed to do it. I actually didn't even want to do it, but I knew I had to change something with a retrograde in my 10th house of career. When you are following a typical business model, there are steps, there are rules, there are formulas to success. But you know? The written, logical way has only made me miserable.
What I really enjoy? Is talking to you all about astrology. I have had such magical, eye opening, awe inspiring conversations with people about their experiences and revelations. There's always a weird thing in healing professions– whether you're a spiritual worker, a nurse, a therapist, whatever– between resource and doing that which you must do. When you work for the universe and not for the world, you find that you are usually taken care of when you give. The universe loves a generous person. When you have knowledge and skills that provide a genuine service, it is so tainted by the world's way: Consumption. It will make you sick.
It's a difficult dilemma between burn out, resentment, sacrificing your time and energy for others and giving, helping, uplifting, creating from the universe and not from the world. It doesn't feel right to price the universe's wisdom. I am poorest when I try to nickel and dime my essence which has made me wonder if abundance is simply trust. It requires a kind of courage that does not come naturally. It requires a kind of peace and security that money and material does not offer.
This Venus retrograde cazimi, I found myself listening to a song that I sang in high school (if you know, you know) and I felt that word– dissonance. Such dissonance between what I know and what I believe. Such dissonance between the cynical mind I have built and the pure heart begging to be let out of the cage.
And with that, I have come to the conclusion that my writing needs to be free. That what I was trying to create with Lunation was a selfish want for security that doesn't actually exist physically and the typical business model infiltrating what I do, at the end of the day, for joy. It is one thing to be paid to look at the personal chart and energy of someone, diving deep into the intimate workings of that unique individual– this is what I do in the consultations that genuinely pay my bills and fill the bellies of the feline friends in my care. It is another thing entirely, to price a collective offering, the work I am doing anyway. Ultimately, when I write, it is a springboard for those intimate conversations that occur within the walls of the zoom consultation room.
So, be free with me. I'll still post the astrological breakdowns, all that I was planning to in Lunation, but I'm going to make it more accessible.
If you want to have those intimate conversations, exploring "more" with me, you can always book a consult, but I feel that being compensated for wisdom that could be healing for more people if I simply unlocked it is making me sicker, not richer. This retrograde has shown me where I have been holding onto a worldly idea of security and success. It is no coincidence that as soon I started accepting payment for this work that I felt too sick to write. Soul sickness is the nastiest kind.
I'll leave this piece with lyrics from "Even When He is Silent" by Kim André Arnesen. This has been my Venus Cazimi song:
I believe in the sun, even when it's not shining
I believe in love, even when I feel it not
I believe in God, even when He is silent