So yesterday I got a beautiful message and today I got a beautiful message (from people who know me some – Facebook messages) and it is beautiful to be SEEN and what they see, saw, was the truth – of me – which in a way was really all I ever wanted. To be seen clearly for who I am but to what end? i.e. what is the point of being so strong and so brave. You only get this strong and this brave because of the continual tests. Everyone has their breaking point. There has to come a time when the tests stop, no? Or is it just constant until the last breath. I wonder. I think of the Four of Swords. A break from battle. I think of the Star. Health. Restoration. Hope.
If Saturn through my 4th House chooses to destroy me then I may allow it. I don’t have much fight left. Unless a compelling reason arises. What I can muster is occasional hope or faith. I aligned myself with that today. The people who have no fight left — that’s what they do. That’s what *you* can do. Look at the Star card.
Also, that reason to live thing, be it person, place, thing, cause. You must have one under hard transits. I think of a client dear soul, survived breast cancer and her friend telling her that she had to LIVE. That was all. Not fret about her hair gone or breast gone but get through chemo and LIVE. The way she told the story was way better than I am telling it here. And she also told me how his words pissed her off. She didn’t want to be told THAT. But when she told me, it felt like a message for me too. I mean, isn’t that WHY she was telling it (too)? If you do this work for any length of time at all then you know that the angels choose your clients perfectly.
Maybe you thought this was going to be a bleak blog post or dark depressing blog post but it’s actually not. Root around in the moon pluto mud but it’s not. I have a surprise for you.
That even in the moon pluto mud, a star is born. What your star is or will be, I cannot tell you from this distance, but it is fact. The one gritty reality point I have to make though is your star or my star may only be an airplane shooting across the sky and I do like airplanes a lot — I love to fly — but they aren’t stars.
Hopefully these feelings I’m feeling today (thank you Sun Pluto and Mars Neptune!) will slip into something, blossom into those poems I’m supposed to be writing but aren’t writing. Yet. But even THAT is not my sacred airplane, my star. What is? What is yours?