There’s a very influential definition of shame that comes from anthropology. The working theory is that the world can be divided up into three cultures: guilt culture, shame culture, and fear cultures.
I can think of one field of creativity that absolutely requires the persistence of copying: cooking.
There is deep intimacy in rivalry. You study your rival, wanting to know everything about them and sometimes even obsessing over them. You want your rival to succeed because their success also means that your success is possible.
Mars in Gemini will leave. Then, it will come back. It expects that you trust that it will do both of these things.
To talk about Mars in Taurus, we’ll have to talk about rage.
There is an industry around the image of health and that industry does want us to remain trapped by the image. They make more money if we do.
Let’s look a bit at the astrology of what’s going on with Twitter.
Mars in Aries is a placement that doesn’t need you to agree with anything that they are doing in order to get it done. In fact, they might even prefer that you don’t agree with them.
Your political identity, your social identity, your creative identities—these will always be more than your wounds.
I think that you have to be willing to be in a state of embarrassment and cringe in order to write a lot. There is no other way. Self enjoyment is embarrassing.
There’s someone I want you to be with in November. I want you to be with your inner detective and consider what you need to feel truly flummoxed at a good mystery.
How best to tap into my own chart (for specificity, it's virgo rising, sun in virgo in 1st house, moon in aries in 8th house) to heal historical wounds, and stop running the same goddamn old scripts?
I’m willing to express doubt or ask questions—hard questions related to astrology—questions like “Can you find your own way to answers that are readily available?”
I’m embarking upon my Neptune square Neptune transit and would love advice on how to deal with all the fuzz. I feel constantly convinced of different daydreams that pass quickly.
I am curious about a very tight conjunction (same degree!) I have with my Moon and my Venus in my eighth house in Pisces.
A lot of us don’t trust each other right now. There’s the busy isolation of capitalism, the disorientation of the pandemic, and the pull of spectacle.
This is a prolific Mercury and not a concise one. What other people are satisfied doing in one paragraph, Mercury in Pisces chooses to draw out into a narrative that spans a trilogy. It complicates ideas that others see as simple.
Mercury in Aquarius has high intellectual expectations. They don’t let you get away with a subdued imagination.
Mercury in Capricorn is often embarrassed. This is the truth of Saturn wherever it shows up.
Over the years, I’ve picked up just a few ways to work with people on symbols that feel like they must take on the most extreme form that they possibly can—symbols that frighten.
You feel the height of Mercury in Sagittarius when speaking with one. You feel the bewilderment of faith, of believing in things that no rationally cynical person would ever believe in.
