You’re gonna hear people say their structures are falling, they’re collapsing, falling though space, an atomization of the spirit, the self. I’m thinking about a paper by psychoanalyst Esther Bick. This line: “This mother too has lost her spacesuit.”

This is what the eclipses may feel like to you, to some: falling into space. Bick writes: The catastrophic anxiety of falling-into-space, the dead-end, haunts every demand for change and engenders a deep conservatism and demand for sameness, stability and support from the outside world.”

I am thinking of that Smiths song that goes, “There is a light that never goes out.”

But then sometimes it does. The eclipses can make us feel the way of the flickering light because the change is fast. It’s jarring. We recoil. Pluto in Virgo generation having a reckoning. We’re past mid-life and we don’t recognize this world and there are levels of adaptions and rejections and the eclipses come and we’re all shook up.

My advice? Sleep. Rest. Do *less* if you can for the next month or so. What can wait? Can anything wait?

Again this metaphor of falling, this time from Josie Oppenheim and “the infant’s fears of ‘falling forever,’ fantasies of omnipotent control and dread of an ‘endless void.’” Thus my advice is not to fight the void but to make friends with it. There is a kind of collapse you cannot fight, cannot free yourself from. Instead, you have to fall and hopefully onto something soft. It reminds me of the shock of grief, when my mother died suddenly and I learned then and there that grief is a physical thing, a physical response too. The eclipses come and we have lost our spacesuit.

I’m eating a bunch of steak right now. I need to keep my strength up for this storm. The upcoming lunar eclipse in Virgo is all over my chart. We’re already in the thick of it.

That’s all for now. You know how to find me
xo