Sun conjoined Algol, eclipse of the Mother of eclipses, the head on the head on the head. A rapid beating heart filling with volcanic heat.
When the daughter of the Sea is illuminated by the Sun, a process similar to creating weather occurs in the waves. Water molecules evaporate, salinity increases, the sea becomes more dense. The waves are literally heavier, the current diverts, the tides change.
The cacophony of water hitting rocks is louder, more startling, irrepressible.
Let me tempt you with some counterintuitive advice: intend to lose your head.
Make space for rapture, for ecstatic release. Roar back into the ocean froth, be the warning on the wind.
Let the voices of the deep erupt from the guttural crook of your soul. The grief, the rage, the thrill, the epiphany, the orgasmic release.
If we don't entertain our inner monster from time to time, it begins to eat us from the inside out. Better to dance with the snakes than to become their snack.
Atolls are the cradle of evolution... fueled by a volcano brewing the cosmic cauldron of life, beneath the cerulean blue. Creation and destruction an eternal ouroboros.
Give offerings of salt water (your sweat will do), a racing heart (thumping in your chest makes a valuable tribute), the pupil of your eye (stare at her only if you want to be assessed to the bone), and the sweet melody of your most primal self (open your mouth wide, now is not the time to be timid).
P.S. If you've been waiting to get to know this primal Creatrix of water and stone, check out the newest episode from A Star Night Dwell, where J.M. Hamade and I talk about the great Mother Gorgon in depth... and look out for another special announcement later this week.
Also, my May books are completely filled. The last chance for a fixed star reading is to book in June. Time is of the essence:
Jupiter Enters Taurus
Jupiter enters the pleasure garden of Taurus today, disposited by an Oceanic Venus in Cancer--setting the tone and imagery for this approximately year-long transit.
Imagine the world of a fecund kelp forest, one of the most biodiverse habitats of the sea, creating a complex interconnected food network, as well as providing protection and homes for countless creatures, protecting the shoreline from the worst of stormy waters--not to mention the vast amount of carbon it sequesters.
Walt Whitman's poem, The World Below the Brine, is an apt description of the tree-like lushness of Jupiter in Taurus when given aid by the tidal pearl of Venus in Cancer:
The world below the brine,
Forests at the bottom of the sea, the branches and leaves,
Sea-lettuce, vast lichens, strange flowers and seeds, the thick tangle, openings, and pink turf,
Different colors, pale gray and green, purple, white, and gold, the play of light through the water,
Dumb swimmers there among the rocks, coral, gluten, grass, rushes, and the aliment of the swimmers,
Sluggish existences grazing there suspended, or slowly crawling close to the bottom,
The sperm-whale at the surface blowing air and spray, or disporting with his flukes,
The leaden-eyed shark, the walrus, the turtle, the hairy sea-leopard, and the sting-ray,
Passions there, wars, pursuits, tribes, sight in those ocean-depths, breathing that thick-breathing air, as so many do,
The change thence to the sight here, and to the subtle air breathed by beings like us who walk this sphere,
The change onward from ours to that of beings who walk other spheres.
Worlds this rich develop only through a slow reckoning of tides, the appropriate depth, a swelling of nutrients, and just the right temperature. A forest is not made overnight, whether above land or under the sea. So to do our most unshakeable values and long-standing beliefs take the right ingredients, time, and interconnected experience to emerge, grow, and strengthen.
This is not a Jupiter of fiery spontaneity or watery enmeshment. What it yields is tangible, long lasting, an intertwining ecosystem.