By Amanda Moreno

It is so hard for me to write when I’m not inspired. It’s nearly impossible. My writing process very much has to do with being in the flow and with tapping into that feeling of being able to channel words as poetry. Regardless of whether I’m doing academic writing, prose, poetry or this column — which tends to be a mix of any of those — the flow is so important. Fortunately, I tend to be easily inspired.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

I’ve been out of the flow, and out of inspiration, for a spell now. It’s a theme I’m noticing among friends and clients as well. Things feel flat, dull, surreal, nebulous.

I’ve been able to push through it for the most part, as I tend to keep a notepad on me and jot down ideas throughout the week. There is typically something that ends up being viable if I can’t just pop into writing mode and spontaneously see what comes out. And I won’t lie, popping into writing mode tends to involve a Manhattan. Or a margarita.

This week I have waited until the last minute to write. I consulted the Planet Waves main page to see if I could find some inspiration — and I did! I love using my tools. It came in the form of Len’s piece, which encouraged the ‘walking away from it’ technique.

I’ve done that several times now to no avail. I was several paragraphs into a piece about cathartic regression therapy, but had to ditch it. Usually I can just push through it and hang in there.

I’ve been writing this column on a weekly basis for almost a year. I’ve missed 3 or 4 weeks, but still, it’s become a process I value deeply. It keeps me on my toes, challenges me to keep paying attention, and adds a much-needed bit of discipline to my life.

It’s been far more personal than I intended it to be. Sometimes sharing at that level has felt incredible and sometimes it’s felt impossible. Sometimes that impossibility turns out more objective, non-personal pieces. All I know is, I have never felt as stuck as I do right now.

I have also been encountering a theme again and again, and I’m still working with it. I’ve realized that parts of me are afraid of the power of words. I’m in a super-conscious phase when it comes to what I put out into the universe in words, and as I work through what is underneath that fear, the inertia I feel is compounded.

This column is supposed to be about ‘spirituality’. That gives it a bit of focus, but when it comes down to it, part of the struggle for me each week is choosing a topic. The scope is broad, and although I try to keep it somehow rooted in current events and trends, sometimes I dream of having someone else narrow down the options for me.

So! The purpose of this current post is to open it up to you, dear Planet Waves community. What would you like to see being covered in this space? Are there topics I’ve covered that you would be interested in hearing more about? Are there ‘spiritual’ topics I haven’t covered that are on your mind? Do you have other insight it feels appropriate to share?

As always, thanks for tuning in.

Hey, guess what?! Saturn goes back into Scorpio in just over two weeks. Isn’t that exciting?! I think it’s really just such a privilege to have another opportunity to review the underbelly of my emotional structures. Hooray!

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

You know, according to the Gnostic mythology, one of Saturn’s greatest tricks was to make everyone think he was the ultimate god — that it was impossible for anything greater to exist.

Keep in mind, however, that ‘impossible’ isn’t actually that much of a limitation — what’s impossible just defies logic and reason, and those wonderful Saturnian structures of society that seem so permanent but are actually quite transient.

The above paragraph is a riff off of something I learned last weekend at the Northwest Astrological Conference (NORWAC), in a lecture by my dear teacher Steven Forrest. It was my fifth year attending the conference, and I can’t say as there’s anywhere else I’d rather be during that holiday weekend — unless someone wants to tempt me with an all-expenses paid vacation to Heron Island off the coast of Australia.

Anyway.

I love NORWAC. It’s an environment that fosters a sense of community with incredible ease while playing host to an array of lecture subjects that can appease all kinds of different astrological minds and traditions. The vibe is totally tribal, and the people are bright and brilliant and open, even if my more shy tendencies inevitably come out. The experience infused me with a much-needed dose of inspiration and reconnected me to my true love: astrology, that multidimensional symbolic map of our true potential (I lifted that out of my notes from a different lecture, which I believe was quoting Rudhyar. Thank you, Mark Jones.).

As I, and I’m sure many of you as well, prepare for that shift of Saturn back into Scorpio, it occurred to me that it might help for me to take stock of and participate in the things that inspire me the most. Hopefully they will buoy me through the transit. And really, isn’t inspiration a Sagittarian theme?

Saturn’s brief, initial jaunt into Sagittarius is one of the factors I associate with my apparent complete loss of inspiration and meaning. My world has been devoid of meaning, flat and somewhat lifeless. One of the NORWAC lectures, by the lovely Lynn Bell, pointed out that when Saturn first goes into a sign, we come face to face with the fears associated with that sign. Enter Saturnian-Sagittarian mental chatter: “I’m not moving forward, I’m going in the wrong direction, nothing makes sense, I can’t find my spark, I’ve lost faith that it will ever return…”

The image of the centaur with the arrow, which is pointed in different directions depending on what image you see, asks us to start moving in a direction that changes this inner chatter, allowing us to move forward and expand our horizons. But first, we have to look behind us and see what is still lurking there, in order to move forward. We have to go back and deal with the nature of the shadow — with Scorpio. Wisdom only comes from having the courage to look back and shoot the arrow at what we haven’t been willing to face before. Without that key bit of knowledge, Sagittarius succumbs to its own shadow: the crusader who has lost sight of what they’re fighting for.

Astrological ideas like that inspire the hell out of me, not just because they’re powerful metaphors and analogies and visual descriptions of human trials. They also inspire me because they’re being presented by someone who has synthesized ideas and has learned how to communicate them to others. I’m also reminded of what an incredibly powerful tool astrology is for paradigm shift, because it does allow us to see cycles and relate them to our inner journey, and to see collective events in multifaceted ways.

At the conference I was inspired by talks on asteroids; astrological talismans; James Hillman; therapeutic astrology; Mary Magdalene and how we can look at Venus in the chart as a symbol of how we generate energy, with sacred sexuality being the bridge between spirit and matter (thank you, Emily Trinkaus); transgender charts; astrological writing…and on, and on.

I was also quite aware of astrology’s shadow — or one of them at least. With so many inspirational figures in our ranks, many of whom are used to having client’s truth and power projected onto them, we have quite a few crusaders in our ranks. Although I tend to be the type who just listens to others’ thoughts with the knowledge that my act of listening to the conversation doesn’t mean I agree, I’ve been noticing a trend for a while that really just annoys me, and speaks to the Sagittarian shadow. It concerns me, even though I’m sure it’s not a new phenomenon within the community at all.

There is a certain hubris that exists within the astrological community. I see it in conversations regarding which rulerships are “right,” or whether or not benefic/malefic determinations are “valid,” or what planet “rules” astrology. They are rarely conversations, actually, but statements made as absolute truth, and they often involve an implicit vilification or cutting down of anyone who disagrees, including colleagues.

Theories are presented as if for the first time. Astrologers throw around the notion that “no one else is looking at…” And I just have to shake my head and say, “Really? With umpteen zillion astrologers in the world, you really think you’re the only one doing that? And/or you think everyone else is wrong?” What is it that we’re fighting for, individually or as a tribe?

It seems like the magician complex gets a bit overblown sometimes. Counseling and consulting astrologers are very used to people coming to them for answers and for truth. There are several schools of thought within the field that deal with therapeutic astrology specifically, and I happen to be a fan of such an approach in which the astrologer is careful to listen and to help the client claim their own power and find their own voice.

I also realize, however, that some people just want to talk about their finances or get help with their business or focus on more mundane issues. Who am I to say there is something wrong with that, even if my belief is that astrology is experiencing increased face-time for more meaningful reasons? Astrology is a spiritual language to me, and part of my spiritual discipline — that doesn’t mean that’s the case for everyone.

It seems that sometimes the shadowy Magician archetype blends with fears of illegitimacy — and anyone practicing a modality as shunned as astrology has come up against that one. I can imagine that being brilliant in a field seen as junk-science might wound one’s ego, resulting in a kind of fundamentalism.

One of the inspirational facets of astrology is that it is a fluid, living tradition. It adapts to cultural contexts, which keeps it vibrant and relevant. There are people practicing and researching more traditional forms, and that is important as well!

But do you know what really inspires me? The people who are seeking out astrological insight and other alternative forms of consultation. I have the honor of sitting with so many people who are seeking meaning and answers and the structures that can help them navigate their lives and expand their consciousness, during a period in history that constantly makes me wish astrology was taught in schools. When I can follow the advice of my astrological teachers and listen for what the client is asking, and then help them hear the voice of their own soul, as illuminated by the songs of the stars, my own soul is filled up.

Another point that was raised at the conference: you can only journey with clients as far as you’ve gone yourself. Perhaps the journey of Saturn back into Scorpio this round is a chance to do that, both as individuals and, for those of us who identify as part of the astrological community, as a tribe. If astrology is the vital, living tradition I believe it is, and has the capacity to help our society transform into a new way of being, perhaps it needs a little therapizing or astrologizing itself (thanks for that one, Adam Elenbaas).

By Amanda Moreno

So…there’s a lot going on these days, in the world and in people’s personal lives. How many times have I made that statement? Yet, it always seems to hit a deeper layer, and as the complexity merges with themes of letting go, life feels more and more surreal.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

I’ve been quite stuck in my own process, but recent events have kicked me out of that a little bit. As the personal crises amp up for the people around me, the more my inner strength seems to grow.

For the first time in a long time, the sense of urgency I feel doesn’t feed my inertia and paralysis, but instead seems to be motivating and grounding. I’m also increasingly aware of the need for communities to form, at the same time as I find resistance within myself.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about what it means to be empathic, and I’m recognizing so many other empathic folks around me, and the ways we often struggle with being so attuned to the emotional energy of others. Perhaps that’s our normal or natural state of being as humans? It is all connected, after all.

I learned what the term “empath” means a few years ago, and several thousand light bulbs went off in my head. Yet some of what I read makes me cringe, be it out of recognition or disagreement. Once a concept is labeled and categorized, it seems to be pathologized, too. Or leaned on as a crutch. Or exploited.

My current working definition of the term is something like: An individual with an (often poorly understood) intuitive ability that allows them to feel the emotions of others. This can lead to the empath channeling the emotions themselves and internalizing them as their own. The empathic person is different from the empathetic person in that the latter is imagining what it is like to be in the other person’s shoes, whereas the empathic person is actually feeling the energy of the other person’s emotions — which can get pretty sticky, especially seeing as so much of it is unconscious. Empathic traits are also known as clairsentience.

The first time I recognized and got a conscious sense of my own empathic abilities in action, a friend I’d been intimately involved with for several years came over while in the middle of a personal crisis. There it was — the felt sense of all of his anxiety and grief and sadness careening towards me and into me. I flashed back to nights where he would call me at 2 am, in the middle of anxious insomniac attacks. He’d fall asleep shortly after I arrived, while I stayed up all night. Talk about co-dependency.

As he sat in my living room that day, essentially dumping his words and emotions, I realized what was happening. I then made the conscious decision not to take the emotions in, and erected a kind of barrier. I could still sense what he was feeling, but kept it separate from my own emotions, which were being triggered due to the heartbreaking nature of his story. He was going through something intense that mirrored some of my own experience, and I felt my own sadness arising.

Whereas previously my exchanges with this person would end with him feeling much more calm and relieved and me feeling anxious and wrecked, my boundaries gave me space to think objectively. I was able to give him a few recommendations for what he might be able to do to take care of himself, along with some hugs. It was a pretty big moment for me.

Another example: the first time I witnessed a ‘play’ scene, in the kinky sense, a woman was being spanked for an extended period of time. As she writhed, and the intensity grew, I was aware that I could feel the pain she was feeling. I remember thinking to myself, “No way. This is so fucking weird — but of course!” It didn’t feel like my ass was being hit by a hand or cane or flogger exactly, but I could feel the energetic rippling: first of her anxiety, and then her pain through warmth that seemed to radiate out from my ass and thighs, and then her euphoria as the endorphins set in. The scene ended with both of us quite high, although for better or worse I didn’t have the bruises to show for it. It was a huge eye-opener for me.

Since then, as I have become more aware of energetic boundaries, I have gone through several different phases of coping with what is, at times, a seemingly involuntary ability to take on or channel other people’s emotions. Last fall, I began to go through the pissed-off phase, angry at what felt like unwanted invasions. I began to recognize just how much it felt like things were hurtling at me all the time. I amped up all of my protective boundaries out of a longing to keep my field as clear as possible, as some really difficult stuff had gotten in.

I write that, and I become aware of a particular framework or worldview, which is where I’ve been getting stuck when trying to process or write about the dynamics of energy and identifying as an empath. Do I really want to live as if I have to protect myself from negative energies? Is it naive to think I don’t have to? Is the very act of protecting myself from something out there the same act that invites it in, or creates it in my field?

In an energy session the other day, my healer dude asked me to describe a feeling of tension I was having around my abdomen. I could see or sense what felt like clear space directly around my body, extending a bit outward, but then a darker or denser energy outside of that. It felt like it was encroaching. It didn’t feel evil or harmful, just different. He asked what it would be like to just let that energy flow through me.

I had some resistance at first; a feeling in my gut that was tight and clenched, unwilling to let go. But I trust this healer dude quite a bit, and decided to give it a try. Healer dude subscribes to a worldview in which even if there are ‘negative’ or ‘heavier’ energies hanging out in a person’s field, it is because they resonate with something within them. Therefore, working with the energies can reveal something about the person and what they are working on or through. Everything in its right place.

As I began to let the energy flow through, I noticed a relaxation. I noticed a flow. I noticed…presence. Not in the sense of an entity being there, but in that I felt…present.

The healer dude and I had a conversation after that about some various Buddhist techniques, all of them involving this kind of presence, particularly with more dense or ‘negative’ energies. He spoke of feeding them with love, transmuting them. It reminded me of the kind of work I do with spirit attachments or earth-bound spirits, in which getting them to the light is the ultimate goal, rather than exorcizing them or casting them out as fundamentally damned.

During the ‘anger’ phase of my empathic awakening, I struggled with feeling like some energies are parasitic. Like once they find the light within you, they feed and feed and feed. This experience is coming up against new worldviews I’m currently being exposed to, or old ones that are coming back to light. It should be interesting to see how it all shakes out.

There is also a masochistic dynamic I can recognize in the waltz of the empath. There is the potential for an ingrained belief that we become invaluable to people by merit of being able to take on all of their stuff, even if they’re not aware that’s what’s happening, and even if it hurts — by becoming the savior. That is a huge topic that I hope to cover in the very near future.

Bringing it back to the beginning, as I notice so many around me — myself included — embedded within some kind of crucible these days, I’m aware of two things. At the personal level, something is shifting in the way I meet other people’s crises, especially those I share physical intimacy with. I’m not hanging onto the emotions and locking them into my body, at least not as much as I used to. There is a difference between unconsciously taking it on, blocking it entirely, and allowing the energy in for a bit to alleviate some suffering.

At the collective level, I’m constantly compelled by an urgent sense that we need to be assisting and supporting the empathic among us. In light of the whole ‘it’s all connected’ thing, perhaps that’s just a call to help us all, and a more appropriate sentence would be: there’s a lot of feelings flying around out there — wouldn’t it be wonderful if we supported each other in developing those senses so they can be used for healing?

Take care, everyone. I’m very much looking forward to further explorations here.

A friend of mine recently began teaching community yoga classes after completing her yoga teacher training. I asked her how it was going, and she shared with me a story that definitely made me think, although I’ve not been able to come to any conclusions.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

The other night she decided to incorporate a “black and white breathing” technique into the class that she had learned from one of her teachers.

The trick is to simply imagine negativity in the form of thick black smoke, and to breathe it out on the exhales while bringing in pure, white light on the inhales.

She loves the simplicity of the technique and thinks it feels great.

At the end of her last class, she was asking for feedback on what others thought about it and someone said, “The breathing exercise was racist.” She was shocked, and got self-admittedly defensive once the students had left. She processed the event with several other friends, most of whom agreed that it was indeed a racist exercise, and one of whom said that he felt embarrassed for her.

I didn’t really know what to make of the story at first, and made the suggestion that she use the color green instead. Green is the color I used to use with purification breathing up until a few months ago when I found a Buddhist purification breathing technique that involves green, blue and pink breathing in addition to the black and white. It never occurred to me that there would be situations where colors would be inappropriate. I had, however, thought about the fact that the traditionally masculine color, blue, was associated with cleansing the masculine channel in the body and the pink with the feminine. I wasn’t offended by it, however.

My friend seems to have come to the conclusion that she does not want to cause harm, and therefore does not think she’ll be using the technique again in that form. Does she just instruct them to exhale negativity, in whatever color it wants to be? Does she choose different colors?

Walking away from the conversation, I began to think about depictions of the “dark goddess,” or the “Black Madonna.” Kali the destroyer is almost always shown with dark skin. The dark goddess, in my understanding at least and in her generic and specific forms, has been depicted as such just by way of contrast to the light goddesses. She is in the dark, hidden, ungraspable, mysterious, unconscious.

When did the dark goddess, or the Black Madonna, become evil? When did black become evil? These aren’t questions I pose because I need answers, really, but I’m pretty fascinated by all of this, and a little overwhelmed at how complex it all seems, and figured I’d post just these few words about it to see if we might be able to get some conversation going. There’s definitely something there about the unconscious/primitive-dark-evil continuum, but I’m curious as to what your thoughts might be.

Is it insensitive to use something like black and white breathing in a class? Is it an example of white privilege to ignore it, or to be insensitive to it even being an issue? What are the possible ramifications to ancient teachings?

I mean, I’m always harping about how religion has to adapt in order to remain relevant. I’m also clear that “masculine” and “feminine” refer to energies rather than genders. But at the same time I’m at a loss when it comes to making judgment calls about some of these things, especially when it comes to questions of race. I’ve always chosen to consider myself “human” far more so than my Swedish, Mexican and Lebanese ancestry, but I’m also aware that I was born into a level of privilege that makes that decision far easier.

So I’m a bit out of my league here, but open to learning. And I’m highly curious about what others have to say.

By Amanda Moreno

There is a difference between life as you dream it and life as it is. Sometimes it can be difficult to reconcile that difference, especially when the contrast is stark. Yet, imagination is critical. Our ability to bring the image of what we desire into full detail in our minds is what can help it to actually manifest.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Sometimes, however, the difference between life as we dream it is so different from reality that it seems all we can do is shut down. This has been one of those weeks.

I’ve learned over time that when there is a natural disaster with mass casualties it’s best for me not to tune into the news. I feel the shock and trauma pretty viscerally as it is, as it ripples out from the epicenter of the event, around the world. I don’t particularly need an onslaught of media hype and 24/7 shock-and-awe coverage to help me understand that the losses have been extreme. I feel it in increased emotionality, exhaustion and despair.

After the quake in Nepal, I turned my browser to cnn.com just out of curiosity (I never go to CNN for news. Ever.). What I saw was the word “SHATTERED” right above an image of rubble and bodies. I then worked an earth-stabilizing, loving kindness guided meditation into a class I was teaching, made a decision to focus my inner work on the same for the days to come, and decided not to tune in to any more media. And then…Baltimore.

So we currently have volcanic eruptions, a major earthquake, and another outbreak of violent mayhem in America all amid a constant hum of genocide, ecocide and suffering on Earth. I wonder so often how it is that people aren’t just walking around wailing — and I suppose there are some who are.

As this is the first round of catastrophe since my new and improved emotional body has risen to the surface, I’ve been curious about how my empathic self might respond differently this time. What I’ve noticed is not an increase in emotion, as I’d suspected, but that it’s brought me into contact with my own capacity for avoidance, particularly in the form of stuffing (food, drink) and sitting in front of my computer for hours without really knowing what I’m doing there. I’m not paying attention to the news. I’m just avoiding my emotions.

In an attempt to keep this column relevant, I started going through links people had emailed me and links I saw on Facebook in order to try to grasp the core of what’s going on in Baltimore. The effort didn’t last very long, however. It’s not for lack of caring. It’s more due to an intolerance of all of these dualistic perspectives I kept reading. The issues are so complex and yet there it is — right/wrong, good/bad, us/them.

I read something a few weeks ago that discussed the difference between duality and polarity. It said that duality is a mechanism that excludes knowledge of one side from the other. Polarity, on the other hand, or the act of polarizing, invites the individual to consider all sides of the discussion or possibility, therefore incorporating knowledge of both or all into the polarity. As I read articles about citizens defending cops, the misplacement of the use of non-violence, and all kinds of really intelligent and well-written perspectives, I couldn’t help but think that what I was seeing was quite dualistic, even if it meant well.

I also became very much aware of my own privilege. Although I’m predominantly non-white, I grew up in a very privileged community. For the first time in my life, a description of white privilege has made sense to me. That is, that white privilege is what allows one to ignore events in the world that are important or impactful to others. It made me think — and then pay more attention.

It seems like what we really need to be doing right now, or at least what I need to be doing, is listening. And probably allowing myself way more time for tears and anger about the state of the world, but that’s another discussion.

Life as I dream it has seemed so distant lately that I have felt depression for the first time in 15 years or so. Depression in that sense of not feeling connected to the heart, of feeling like I’m spending so much time repressing fear, anger, hate and shame that there is no energy left for anything else. It’s been hard to motivate myself to stand up and do things like laundry, or dressing, or feeding myself — even though that difficulty doesn’t last that long and I can push through it. I think this is at least partially because although I’ve been able to deal with the world situation in the past, that’s been largely due to the fact that my personal life situation has been pretty fabulous, or even just good.

Right now the two are colliding — the world situation feels like it’s getting worse and worse, and my personal life… well, there haven’t been any catastrophes, but it’s been getting increasingly difficult for a while now and I need to make some “adult decisions” about how to move forward. In my dream world, if I just focus on what I love I’ll be able to make it sustainable. I haven’t totally given up on that dream, but am realizing it is feeling further and further as obstacles seem to stack up and overlap in untenable ways.

I just reached over and chose a tarot card for some help determining where to go from here in this column: Seven of Pentacles. Hard work. A return on investments. Having a long-term view and being focused on the sustainability of results. That rings true for me on the personal level as I reevaluate the way I’ve arranged my life and changes I need to make in order to make this alternative relationship/career/living situation thing sustainable. But at the collective level…

Well, I think of the articles I’ve seen that have to do with non-violent protest and its misuses in Baltimore. They are really intelligent discussions. But…non-violence is also what I strive for and what I believe in unapologetically and without reservation. It’s one of my few totally stubborn beliefs.

Imagine what would happen if every human agreed that every life is sacred and therefore worthy of safety, food, water, shelter — and of living without harm? Going deep enough into the context and history of why things are the way they are is a daunting task, but something we have to do in order to change them. How do we address the deep-rooted and entrenched facets of our culture that have led to an institutionalization of violence, militancy, rioting, slavery, hunger, homelessness and inequality? That have led us to think there are ever situations where violence is OK?

I in no way mean to attack anyone’s beliefs, and those sentiments are not meant as accusations. But what are the root issues and how do we heal them?

The drive to protect and to kill, as defense and as a means to providing food and resources, is a deeply embedded remnant of our recent past. It has been pushed down into our unconscious and made ‘bad.’ We ignore it, but it still exists — as psychopathy, as warfare, as abuse and rape, as rioting, as “rough rides.” That urge is essentially exploited and exacerbated by the institutionalized slavery system we call “Capitalism.” We have to figure out how to bring that energy up, acknowledge it and do something constructive with it.

I imagine a time when we can recognize those instincts coming up and then go dance, or shout and yell, or make some art or do some chanting or exercise and use the energy to manifest something in alignment with a vision for a culture that is sustainable. Or hell, have an argument with real live communication and respect. I imagine a time when those instincts can be held and transformed in the container of like-minded communities where those who feel grief for the world are encouraged to express it.

Some would call that idealistic. I just call it realistic. If we keep refusing to listen, to change, to meet the other with compassion for and acknowledgement of suffering, letting go of our own persecutor/victim complexes, we are not going to make it.

There is something in the Seven of Pentacles that also reminds us of the importance of stopping to appreciate the work we’ve done. This is particularly important when frustration arises. So to any and all who feel the world situation in those deep and emotional ways — thank you for feeling, thank you for existing, and thank you for your honesty and for the work you do. It makes a difference. I really do believe we are working towards a worthy goal. It’s just taking a long time to get there.

By Amanda Moreno

I’ve had a fascination with the idea of ‘soul mates’ for a very long time. The idea of that one, fated, true love who would finally complete me was implanted early on, most likely first through 80’s bubble gum pop, and then solidified through my encounters with the musicals The Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

To say that our culture romanticizes the idea of soul mates is an understatement. I suppose there is nothing wrong, at least at some levels, with searching for The One — to each their own.

But the ways in which it has been romanticized in that you-complete-me-I-will-die-without-you kind of way is insidious and destructive, especially because it is one model of relating being put forth as the ideal for everyone. It also encourages us to locate self worth in external sources rather than from within. The level of codependency that results from obtaining self-worth from without is problematic.

But it sounds so good, right?! The tragedy of Romeo and Juliet and co-suicide; or the image of an old couple who die one right after the other, of a broken heart, or because they’re so linked that one could not exist without the other.

I remember reading Wuthering Heights when I was 17. I only read the first half and declared it my favorite book of all time. How could I not, with passages such as this: “He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” And:

My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

My teenage self (and my 4th house Scorpio Moon and 8th house Venus in Pisces) didn’t stand a chance — I knew that I wanted that kind of fated connection. I wanted to find my other half. I wanted to lose myself in someone and to have some torrid, long-term, angsty, passionate love affair with my soul mate. There is such incredible poetry in that kind of connection, and maybe even sometimes longevity and stability. Unfortunately, the stories I was drawn to also often carried the theme of unrequited love and triangulation, with which I identified in the role of the mistress/other.

Somewhere in my twenties, it all began to shift — very, very slowly. Cultural conditioning, particularly around relationship norms, runs so deep. I started to recognize the face of my soul mate in more than one person, and increasingly in myself. I started to open to the notion that perhaps we have more than one ‘soul mate,’ and that we’ve been traveling with many souls over many lifetimes, working out all kinds of different things.

I realized that nurturing those connections and remaining open to them was a higher priority for me than choosing one person to be with for life before I’ve even met the rest. Learning through relationship is part of my spiritual path, and I began to shun what I’d been told they’re supposed to look like. I started to realize I could really only decide on the qualities of relationship that are important to me rather than the concrete ways the relationships might look.

This all blended nicely with my introduction to non-monogamy, which I saw as a way to honor connections that came into my life in whatever way they need to show up. When I feel that zap of erotic recognition with someone, which happens fairly rarely, I want to be able to explore what’s there.

I’ve also come to recognize that that zap doesn’t necessarily indicate long-term, passionate intimacy. It jolts me in order to help me recognize someone with whom I have some kind of contract; I have to remain open to the fact that I don’t know what that contract is or how long it will take for that contract to be fulfilled or worked out — a week, months, years. Nor do I know if we’ll both be in a place in our lives to commit to the work, therefore leaving it to another time. Remaining open to these mysteries while being authentically in touch with my needs has proven to be a very tricky endeavor.

In his Pluto books, Jeff Green talks about different kinds of bonds: Karma Mates, Soul Mates, Same Soul, and Twin Souls. Lo and behold, I recognized a whole lot of karma-matey relationships, which Green characterizes as “two people who have had past-life connections and experiences that are not finished or resolved.” With this category, it’s important to remember that karma is not necessarily a negative thing.

Contrast that with Soul Mates, which in Green’s framework are “two people who have independently acted on their desires to embrace a spiritual or transcendent reality, and the real purpose of the union with one another is to continue their individual spiritual development because of and through the relationship.” Now that sounds lovely. And requires a high level of discernment.

As my understanding of soul mates and relationship evolves, I’m coming to understand just how deeply my conditioning runs. It can be so difficult not to romanticize tumultuous, passionate encounters. It is also pretty horrendously difficult to confront the ways that I believe ownership and possession are part of a healthy bond — more facets of relationships that have been romanticized as natural and healthy.

Something I’ve also realized, however, is that sometimes passion in that carnal, I-want-to-throw-you-up-against-a-wall, can’t-stop-fucking kind of way is actually a way of avoiding intimacy. Sometimes passion comes from developing a container with another person over time, creating space for vulnerability to unfold. Erotic energy is not simply a sexual energy, it is the energy of community-building and friendship as well. It is the container that occurs between therapist and client or teacher and student that allows transformation to happen.

Someone once told me that my genius lies in understanding the complexities of the human heart. It seemed like a nice slogan to refer back to, even as I flounder and blunder my way through figuring out how to relate to others within a paradigm that tells me there are only one or two ‘true’ ways. I come back to a belief in soul mates again and again, even if it looks different from how it did before. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what is rationalization and self-delusion and what are honest goals being sought after with integrity.

As always, the temptation to look at it dualistically in terms of right and wrong looms, and holding the tension of all the paradox, contradiction and not knowing can be difficult — although usually pretty inspiring, at least when it’s going well. My hope is that as more people start engaging alternative notions of soul mate and relationships, we will start to develop models based on quality and morality, no matter how relative, which are based in a quest for authentic truth and reverence for the different forms of connection. Even if it takes a very, very long time.

By Amanda Moreno

This week I’ve had several conversations about various online communities. Some have covered the apparent exodus from Facebook on the part of the “younger” folks. I apparently don’t fall into that category anymore, as I have no idea what Snapchat is and feel a stubborn reluctance to learn.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Others have talked about series of self-help-esque videos they subscribe to on YouTube, paying specific attention to the comments that spring up and the relationships being forged between those who make the videos and those who watch. Then there is Fetlife, or “Facebook for the kinky,” complete with events and groups for every fetish imaginable.

These conversations have occurred alongside my growing awareness that people are requesting I do classes online. Once again, I experience somewhat stubborn aversion to the format. I prefer in-person exchange, and the nature of much of the work I do involves small group exchanges where physical presence seems vital. I rely on the container of the classroom in which to hold space for grief and anger.

I try to reframe this stubborn aversion quite frequently. I was reading a New York Times piece this morning that got me thinking a lot about how lucky we are to have online communities during this time of rapid change. As the author points out, our society tends to teach us the skills needed for external success while ignoring the skills needed to radiate “that inner light.” These are skills that help us to develop a moral compass and to engage our lives from a place of passion and continuously deepening self-understanding.

Online communities are definitely fertile grounds for the kind of external gratification and self-centered focus that allows us to promote ourselves and broadcast a highlight reel of our accomplishments and proud moments. But they can also be used for something else. As the digital revolution unfolds, we are faced with the challenge of using it for increased heart-centered consciousness rather than just as another form of superficial escapism.

The biggest example of this “something else” in my life is, of course, the Planet Waves community, although I am also a fan of a few “secret” Facebook groups that allow me to stay in contact with my various tribes around the world. What do these communities have in common? They are all full of people who the New York Times author calls “stumblers”:

The stumbler scuffs through life, a little off balance. But the stumbler faces her imperfect nature with unvarnished honesty, with the opposite of squeamishness. Recognizing her limitations, the stumbler at least has a serious foe to overcome and transcend. The stumbler has an outstretched arm, ready to receive and offer assistance. Her friends are there for deep conversation, comfort and advice.

I happen to live in a city where stumblers abound. We’re frickin’ everywhere, and not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for that sense of belonging. I’m also aware that there are so many of us in the world right now who are choosing to orient our lives around the belief that we can — and have to — make a difference. We’re figuring out how to heal ourselves and the world by facing our inner demons and recognizing our gifts in order to serve the deepest needs of the world at large. Many of us are not embedded in physical communities that are supportive.

In that sense, these online communities most certainly are a blessing. Within them we become bonded with other like-minded people in the spirit of camaraderie, mentorship and authenticity. We get to exchange ideas, understandings, and sometimes disagreements with people we would never have otherwise met. Of course, the novelty of what Planet Waves has to offer — a community of paradigm-busting seekers who get to take ownership of the forum in order to be a part of spiritual collaboration and re-calibration in action — is quite unprecedented.

There have been so many times since I became involved with Planet Waves that I have been humbled and grateful for the opportunity to share and be witnessed, but it’s more than that. I get to hear other people’s stories, which often resonate with my own. I get to learn with and from such incredible souls, all of whom are constantly challenging assumptions and striving to see through to the heart of the matter. So I definitely get the beauty of online community.

Although I’m still working out that conflicted part of me that rebels against the thought of screen time, I’m aware that this technology is here to stay and that we get to make use of it in ways that serve the highest good, if we so choose. I don’t really think that means I’ll be migrating to Snapchat, although a migration away from Facebook is always running through my mind. But I will continue to work with and re-think the ways in which technology can be used to further connection in authentic, embodied and balanced ways.

By Amanda Moreno

I’m really trying to get my digital addiction to relax a little. It’s not really working, but I managed a few hours today without checking my email, and when I did I was delighted to see several emails pertaining specifically to the eclipse on April 4. I’ve been feeling hot rushes of anger swirling through me in cycles this week, some with triggers and some without. Therefore the contextualization provided by other astrologers is very much appreciated.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

I’m reading a lot about balance; about a tendency towards being resistant to the view of the other, with relationships at the focus. The self vs. other (Aries-Libra) polarity and mediating conflict with kindness in relationship seems to be the tip-of-the-tongue suggestion.

All of these are good insights. It also seems that so many of the email lists I subscribe to, be they astrologically focused or not, are providing totally generalized recommendations to really tune into the ‘love’ tones, to the heart, to try and greet every stimulus from a heart-centered, loving perspective.

I get it. It all seems like great advice. It also brings to mind what I lovingly refer to as “the priestess complex.” And let me tell you: those of us displaying that priestess complex, or those of us really working the relationship-karma-patterns angle, can get a little confused when we see things like “remember to be balanced and kind in relationship” — mainly because our go-to place is one of quite unconsciously surrendering to the needs of the other.

So what do I mean by “the priestess complex?” Well, it’s a term I probably shouldn’t just throw around casually, but I just did and so I’ll try to unpack it in a quaint, if not ridiculously generalized, little summary. I’m going to frame it in historical terms with a few basic assumptions: that my historical preview is limited in scope, and that even if you don’t believe in reincarnation and the effect of past lives on the current state of the soul, the story is a relevant tool for illuminating themes and concepts.

Let your mind spin backwards in time for a moment. Back way more than 10,000 years — which, by the way, is the average time span historians study, with anything before then being considered “pre-history” and therefore not worth studying. Imagine back to the time when the goddess reigned. Ok, wait — she didn’t really reign. That’s more of a patriarchal concept. Back when the life cycles, Moon cycles and natural cycles were revered.

The ‘goddess’ is depicted in bulbous statues and cave paintings. She has mega-curves. Humans begin to become conscious, to project onto nature and the sky; they develop practices and initiation rites. As consciousness becomes concretized within spiritual systems, ‘Priestesses’ initiate men into their sexuality (although sometimes, let’s face it, men were initiated through fairly brutal walk-abouts and rituals that involved blood and circumcision and sometimes resulted in death).

The sexual initiations, at least as far as we can gather through artifacts and modern interpretation, existed to initiate men into right relationship with sexual energy. But then, around the time of Babylon and its temples of ‘sacred prostitution’, the myth begins to change. Patriarchal themes begin to arise, the hero’s journey monopolizes the monomyth. The Babylonian Ishtar, turned Phoenician goddess Astarte, becomes Astaroth, a demon.

It all just kind of derails from there — although I’m a fan of thinking of the patriarchal cycle as a necessary part of our evolution. The priestesses and all of their lovely, chaotic, healing, devotional energy gets distorted to somewhat of a culmination in the Roman temples where the Vestal Virgins are the ‘keepers of the flame’ (see Eric’s article The Sacred Space of Self). Their chastity, their maintenance of that inner flame, and therefore the safety of civilization is valued above all, and yet…they are still used to ‘heal’ warriors coming home from war. And when they are caught in sexual acts they are buried alive. Good times.

There are also events like Beltane rituals, which still honor cycles of fertility, penetration, reception and sexual initiation. But by and large, it is changed. Control, possession and the cultivation of devotion overlaps with themes of chastity, purity and an utter distrust of raw, feminine power, which is unpredictable and chaotic. Even metaphorically speaking, these conflicting themes create distortions in the psyche.

Bringing it back to present — thank you for bearing with me — I have discussed the rising of the feminine here several times: the anger, the chaos, the ‘irrational’ cycles and patterns. It feels like for so many of us — men, women and gender-queer alike — we are remembering the force of so much power that has been repressed and distorted for so long. The snake is rising.

It can be terribly confusing, among other things. Then again, collective memories of being buried alive for helping to heal and for having sex as a means of healing can cause some confusion.

Bringing it back to the beginning of this article, to the ‘remember love’ thing, I had a moment earlier when I started laughing because, well, I have no problems remembering love or remembering to connect to the heart. I am so open and accepting and full of forgiveness and connection with the possibilities and ideals of people and of life, especially when it comes to romantic relationships, that I can deal with pretty much everything with devotional perseverance.

The problem is that that this devotional perseverance is completely undiscriminating. Or at least it has been in the past — I’m learning. For the ‘priestess,’ everything is about unconditional love and healing to the seekers. OK, maybe that is yet another over-generalization, but it is an important point. Especially, I would say, for the Pluto-in-Libra and Pluto-in-Scorpio generations. We are so geared towards relationships and merging that we lose sight of ourselves, our goals and our sense of discrimination very easily.

The fact is that the priestess complex carries all of the karma or patterns of betrayal and oppression and repression as well. The ability to trust the other, the instincts — and god, for that matter — is buried underneath centuries of distortion.

The fact that I embody so many shadowy Libra qualities of placation and surrender is quite the difficult confession for me. I’m a woman who has lived on her own and been quite independent for…well, my entire life. I’ve always shied away from Feminism because the practice of it speaks to me of victimization instead of the original ethos of equality for all, and I have never identified as a victim. But as I progress through life and relationship, I get more in touch with my own capacity to put the other ahead of myself, especially without receiving in equal measure, and it seems so unconscious that I am consistently surprised at its manifestations.

In that sense, embodying the Aries energy of the astrology right now seems so very appropriate, if not a little confusing and foreign. Remembering to keep the balance, to have patience, to take the point of view of the other in stride is, of course, prudent advice.

I’m also aware, however, that the anger is rising within me more fluidly lately and as far as I can tell I’m not alone in that. Figuring out what to do with it, how to channel it and how to avoid immediately projecting it onto the other is difficult, especially because of the discernment issue — when should it be discussed and worked through with the other, and when is the other just a catalyst for clearing my own stuff? How do we reconcile what feels like eons of repression and exploitation?

Listening to which parts of the anger are connected to my personal experience and what parts seem to be more of a collective channeling requires a brand of honesty that I strive towards but still fumble with. It’s worthy work, as the reclamation of the feminine in her true and robust form is so vital to constructively merging it with the masculine will in consort with divine will; or, more simply stated, in consort with a vision of a world where all parts are respected, loved and used for the highest good.

And so for me, at least at this point (writing three days before the event), this eclipse is very much about taking all of that love and light I ritualized into my life during the last eclipse (was it just two weeks ago?) and making sure it’s met with discernment, that my needs are being met in relationship, and that I am playing my part in evolving the priestess complex in constructive ways.

The priestesses are back, no matter their form and whether we take that metaphorically or literally. That devotional energy has to find its place among people who are willing to give and receive in heart-centered, equal exchange. It cannot be one-sided any longer. So here’s to using this eclipse energy to working together in ways that are discerning, discriminating and effectively loving.