By Amanda Painter

We’re on the cusp of a new season: Sunday, March 20 at 12:30 am EDT (4:30 UTC), the Sun enters Aries for the equinox; the start of spring in the Northern Hemisphere, autumn in the Southern. This heralds the beginning of a new astrological year, and is the moment when day and night are of equal length. This year, the equinox is closely followed by the second in a pair of eclipses.

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By Amanda Moreno

Well, my friends, I’ve begun to tune back into the world stage — specifically in terms of politics — for the first time in a while, in preparation for some good old caucusing fun on March 26. I’ve kept my exposure limited to specific candidates I might potentially be caucusing for, and have experienced some pleasant surprises. For example, I was heartened to learn that Mr. Sanders voted against the Patriot Act both times.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Imagine that: a leader who believes and acts in the interests of our constitutional rights. At least twice.

I have, at the same time, felt my curiosity rise as to how my conservative family members are faring — would they really go so far as to vote for Trump? I don’t know why I’d be surprised, really, as they’ve never ceased to amaze me before, but I went ahead and asked my liberal mom how the fam seems to be doing. She said that one of them (the one I purposely and explicitly don’t talk to for reasons related to the 2008 election) says that he’s pissed off that he “might be forced to vote for Trump.”

Wow. What a way to compound all of the hate, fear and violent rage already being constellated within that sector of the American public. He’s going to come up with reasons why it’s liberal America’s fault that he has to vote for someone like Trump, and use it to fuel his anger. Of course, my interpretation could be wrong, but what a sobering display of stubborn hatred. Also? What a sobering display of the ways our political system is undeniably akin to a football game.

For reasons not directly related to American politics, I’ve been studying the archetype of ‘Evil’ lately, predominantly in terms of the asteroid Lucifer. It’s something I’ve been called to do for several years, but have been avoiding and putting off. Alas, the universe can be tricky, and its efforts to force the issue finally paid off (just as transiting Lucifer comes in for a nice conjunction with my North Node). Here I’ve been for the past two nights, learning about Evil right before bedtime.

Something that has been at the front of my mind today is the idea that Evil hides behind God. Bin Laden hid behind Islam. Dubya hid behind Christianity. Look at how much evil has been enacted in the name of religion throughout history. Evil tends to hide behind causes that many get behind; it manifests through seduction; it preys on feelings of victimization in those who allow their fears and insecurities to be anesthetized by a charismatic figure who takes control.

Now, how anyone can see Trump as charismatic is something I’ll never be able to understand, but as I walked around the city today I kept thinking about this notion of Evil hiding behind God and wondered how that made sense in terms of Trump. I mean, I’m pretty sure he proclaims to be some form of Christian, but is that a cornerstone of his platform? I don’t think I’ve seen him proclaiming to be doing God’s work — although that might be a byproduct of the fact that I’ve watched zero live-action shots of the man in recent years and tend to only buzz by his headlines.

He is, however, strongly associated with the main God of our culture: money. Is that it? As we’ve stripped our culture of ancient systems of belief, we’ve put all of our drive to discover, seek and make meaning into the pursuit of making money, worshipping goods and status. Is that in effect what Evil is now hiding behind? Doesn’t seem too much of a long shot. Then again, perhaps I’m stretching it. These thoughts are just coming out onto the page here, without a lot of dissection.

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Once again, however, I’m compelled to reflect on our culture’s death wish, which seems to be exponentially increasing as of late. I link that to a lack of coherent spiritual systems that connect us with each other and our hearts.

Just before I began working on this piece, I came across the following quote by Sogyal Rinpoche, from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying:

I have come to realize that the disastrous effects of the denial of death go far beyond the individual: They affect the whole planet. Believing fundamentally that this life is the only one, modern people have no sense of long-term vision. So there is nothing restraining them from plundering the planet for their own immediate ends and from living in a selfish way that could prove fatal for the future.

It called to mind for me the relativity of a concept like ‘Evil’. Certainly it exists and can be pointed out in its most explicit forms — the Holocaust comes to mind. But isn’t there a quality of evil to the long-term plundering of the planet, which can also be linked to that inability to tap into a long-term vision? Is it Evil that stripped us of our ways of relating to the afterlife and vital meaning-making skills, or just our own ignorance? Is it evil that we have chosen to move forward in a godless society? How are these things connected?

What I’m learning about the asteroid Lucifer is similar to what I’ve learned about any tense aspect of an astrological signature: the challenge is to recognize and bring awareness to how it works in your life, to recognize your emotional weak links and understand when they are becoming distorted and magnified, so that you can respond accordingly. That’s something I can work on at the same time as I grapple with the many layers of my own hesitance to use a term like ‘Evil’ to describe a man like Donald Trump, or to announce its presence in general — or to spend time studying it for that matter.

If Evil preys on the innocent in insidious and seductive ways, I take heart that I know so many people in the world are committed to kindness and love. I know a good number as well who are committed to doing the kind of work that involves looking within to identify where Evil might be at work inside. But sometimes I wonder: what about everyone else? Is there something more active to be done to help them? Do they need help? Do we just focus on changing ourselves and what we can change outside of ourselves, and hope for the best? Is that a form of denial in and of itself?

Once again, I’m leaving this space with questions that don’t have simple answers. Just some food for thought — and in closing, a heaping dose of love.

By Rob Moore

With all the intense astrology afoot recently, not the least of which includes being between eclipses, I feel like some self-indulgent navel gazing might hit the spot right now. As much as I mean taking some time to check in with ourselves, I also mean quite literally checking out our navels.

“Perception” by Rob Moore.

I might be inclined to take it somewhat further, though. Further than the navel. Further than the gazing. Feeling somewhat put through the ringer myself lately, I was genuinely inspired to look this weekend at giving ourselves what we need.

Then when I heard Eric’s mention of the numerous conjunctions to the Moon over the past few days, I took that as a signpost I was indeed on a solid course. Of particular interest to me was Eric’s in-depth look at the Moon-Ceres conjunction and its connection to how we nourish ourselves. Not just with food. Emotionally, sexually, and in all ways.

Anyone who has taken steps to embrace who they are at their very center will tell you how gratifying and empowering it feels. Well, the same principle applies to embracing our physical selves. Among the gratifying changes is a deepening appreciation for our sexual experiences. Whether we’re talking two or more participants or just one.

First, a little backstory about my own years of self-appreciation. Most articles about sex and relating that I see out there assume everyone is in a relationship. And if not, then we certainly must be looking for one. The last time I was in a bar, more than a few times I got, “How can you be single? What’s the story, dude?”

The story is I found relatively early in my life that I actually enjoy being on my own. As much as I relish connecting with others physically, emotionally and energetically, I have always valued my alone time tremendously.

Once it became clear I don’t care for functions centered around who’s who and who they’re with, nor for small talk that goes nowhere — all in the name of having a date on Friday night — I settled completely into the role of being happily single. I will, however, be the first to admit it takes some balls to arrive at that big showy event with just you, yourself and thou. After a few times, though, it kinda gets to be its own rush.

It was no small thing that I had some valuable encouragement early on by a popular socialite Libra. After almost two years of running into each other, he turned to me one night and said, “I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I think you rock. You’re like this mystery loner man. I see you everywhere. At parties, walking down the street, in lecture halls… you always look so comfortable. Damn, man, I want some of that.”

Gratifying as it was to have achieved ‘comfortable in my own skin’ status, there were parts of me wrapped by that skin that I had yet to get genuinely okay with. Or more accurately, even consider getting okay with.

I’m just recalling as I write this that it wasn’t long after that uplifting Libran compliment that I had to see the doctor about something on my ass. We’re not just talking ass, either… sphincter land. As it turned out, I had to squat over a hand mirror twice a day to apply medicine to a very tiny portion of Mr. Starfish.

Blargh! How I cringed at having to undertake this disgusting labor of Hercules.

I had never been an ‘ass man’ even when others’ rears were the asset in question. I mean, I wasn’t averse to going there on some hottie while in the throes of passion but it just wasn’t my go-to place. And due to many unpleasant early sexual experiences, I was not a fan of others trying to get on with me back there.

Anyway, I managed to get through those seven days of squatting, looking and applying. It wasn’t long, however, before I wound up having to go through the whole ritual again. This time, though, it was bugging the hell outta me that looking at my own rectum was causing so much inner turmoil.

In the late 1980s I was introduced to Louise Hay and her now infamous campaign to love ourselves. I adored Louise Hay. I secretly played her guided meditations over and over and over again. She was the embodiment of total acceptance and a voice of nurturing love I desperately needed to hear.

One of my favorite Louise Hay points is that babies pee on themselves and play with their own poo, all the while laughing and laughing because shame has yet to cast its forbidding shadow. I could see clearly, therefore, the value and basic birthright of embracing every part of ourselves fully.

But I always hit certain walls with her requests. She was big on mirror work, ever instructing us to look at ourselves while affirming how wonderful we were. And it didn’t stop there. Every single body part was to be gazed upon and loved and thanked for its functions. I agreed with the goal. It was the airy-fairy approach combined with genitals and anuses that made me feel disingenuous and sort of creepy.

Now, with this mirror on the floor reflecting back my own nether regions, it struck me that to come to some real acceptance I needed to consider what I actually did like about it. Or what I thought was interesting or whatever. Just something to get the positive vibes flowing.

Well, truth was I thought that asshole I was looking at was kinda freaky and a little wrong. But wrong in a way that was sorta hot. I wouldn’t want to get a photo of it with my family for the mantle. I could, though, imagine letting somebody else I thought was hot look at it. Or touch it. Or do other stuff that was kinda wrong and hot and yet felt good at the same time.

After sticking with this line of consideration for a bit, it occurred to me that getting okay with our weird parts and weird turn-ons is still self-acceptance. Maybe even a multiplicity of acceptance layers are in there, involving body parts, left-of-center interests, others into freaky interests, showing, seeing, touching… oh, for sure… lots of layers of acceptance going on there.

Please know this wasn’t like some grand epiphany for me after which I set out to find all the freaky and hot places on myself in an effort to be some super self-accepting sex human. I instead found this sort of self-exploration and appraisal became my way of responding to barriers as they came up.

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Slowly, over time, I have reconsidered my feelings and viewpoints about my ball sack, my legs, the way my buns hang kinda flappy-like at the base, my armpits, even the scents I naturally produce.

I was satisfied to keep these aspects of my body and my self quietly in the dark for much of my life. That never prevented me from hooking up or making connections or experiencing mind-blowing sex. I discovered, though, how much more deeply gratifying sex can be when I’m comfortable enough with myself to let go into another person. Feeling okay about my holes and personal places, I now feel more inclined to find out what’s going on with theirs.

The last few days, though, I have been quite satisfied taking care of my personal places on my own. Have you felt a similar pull within yourself? May I suggest starting with your navel?

I’m glad to have one at all. Major surgery closed it up for a long time and I thought it was gone forever. But it’s back. As is my happy trail, which has always made me and others quite happy. I like how it feels. I think the way it leads down, down, down is kinda hot.

So, what do you like about your navel?

Both the written and audio readings for the beautiful 2016 annual edition, Vision Quest, are now immediately available. Order all 12 signs at a great value or choose your individual signs. You may access written and audio excerpts from the Vision Quest main page.

By Judith Gayle | Political Waves

It’s difficult to attempt to encapsulate any of what’s going on at this moment in history, mostly because reasonable people have difficulty accepting that this global sociopolitical breakdown has taken up residence in the hearts and minds of those around them. It seems particularly difficult to decipher in America, where we are accustomed to thinking of ourselves as mostly good people — oh, a few warts, for sure, but small and seldom acknowledged  — who embrace a lofty moral and/or religious standard, contribute positively to 21st century culture, and lead the world (by virtue of our inflated economy and military) toward peace and prosperity.

Or not. George Bush the Lesser gave us a picture of the emperor with no clothes, a condition so obvious to all but his true believers that it wasn’t much of a lateral move to the American presidency as reality show. Now, Donald Trump and the 2016 Republican lineup of Duck Dynasty zealots have given us the empire as the Gong Show, and we’ve yet to reconcile the two parties as speaking similar language for an election eight months out.

I know you know this is exactly as the oligarchy likes it, the commoners dazed and confused, their hostility pointed in the wrong direction and their longing to devolve into past glories paralyzingly infantile. If we’re going to renew the energy of our republic, restore our belief in commonwealth and functional government, replace the money-changers in the halls of Congress, then we’d better stop wringing our hands and stand up for what we want our future to look like.

Now’s the time to acknowledge that our national tank of collective rights, constitutional guarantees and democratic principles is not even half full, it’s running on fumes. I’d like to tell you that this is true only for the portion of the country depending on the Republicans to float their boat, but essentially, the Dems are poised on a philosophical meltdown as well.  The neoliberal mantra that continues to lock us into slow motion and half-hearted remediation of the business class coup known as Citizens United may look like a better product than the snake oil the right is selling, but it’s still just an infomercial, calculated to profit someone (who isn’t us) and keep [r]evolution at bay.

We need to stop with the easy answers and lazy interpretations. We need a fill-up of truth, of reality, of fearlessness and determination. We need to plug in to options that move us forward rather than backward, to commit to positive action rather than hedge on rocking the boat. As Bernie says, we need to believe we can change our world one household, neighborhood, city, and state at a time, working together to not only do no harm but to actively promote the collective good. We fill ourselves one success at a time.

If we want common sense, there are people out there screaming into the vacuum of ill-informed radicalism, serving as ballast to a right-wing gone so threatened and self-pitying that it’s become increasingly dangerous, like a fevered animal. If we’re looking for cooler heads, Obama’s still got one, along with much of a year to use it. Here’s a snip of him spanking a brooding Trump at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner a few years back and making it look effortless. The thing is, it SHOULD be effortless, and CNN could do the world a solid favor if they’d loop this clip for a day or two, giving us a clear picture of our choices and a reminder that intelligence at the helm of state is a necessary breath of fresh air.

If you haven’t checked out Samantha Bee on her political half-hour, “Full Frontal” (Turner Broadcasting, Monday nights), then you’re missing something special. She’s currently the only woman late-night host, and she nails it in much the way HBO’s John Oliver and Comedy Central’s Larry Wilmore are doing. Kudos to Jon Stewart for launching so much talent. Sam says what she thinks, and although you may wince from time to time, you’ll more likely laugh out loud when she gets started. She confesses that she’s not scripted, just naturally talented, so this gig is perfect for her. Google her for more clips, you won’t be sorry.

Now, granted, those who tune in to hear this kind of thing are not the same ones who can’t wait to see which black or brown protester gets mauled at a Donald rally, or takes delight in the ‘passionate’ pattern of violence we’re seeing take shape across the country.  Donald seems to think that those who disagree with him ‘deserve it,’ which is — you might agree — the most troublesome of his personal quirks, writ large in his attacks on those who ‘aren’t nice’ to him. If you are one of those people who think that WON’T be you at some point, you deserve everything you get!

This is authoritarianism run amok, what economist Robert Reich has finally, and rightly, called ‘fascism.’ The kind of support Trump voters offer is so tone-deaf to constitutional liberties, so tribally infected with nostalgia for the romance of the White Man’s Burden, that beads of semi-erotic sweat seem to stand out on the upper lip of those who defend it. Consider this exchange (again, on CNN) where I find myself, for the first time, in agreement with moderate right pundit S.E. Cupp, who said, “I want to go to sleep and wake up when it’s over.”

The continuing problem with Trump as evil-doer of the moment is that very few people are paying attention to Ted Cruz, who is smarter than Trump, and frankly, craftier. His early data mining of Facebook accounts gave him information that allows him to appeal to individual state voters in targeted interest areas, and the eventual demise of the Donald — likely over the explosion of overt racism he’s provoked — will leave Ted crowing and preening, holding all the jelly beans. Anybody out there ready for a President Cruz? Ready to surrender your Obamacare, citizen? Your birth control, women? Your secular nation?

Now, it’s not like we haven’t had the wake-up calls, and some wake-up calls are more potent than others: the SCOTUS coup on a pivotal presidential election, the Twin Towers, Katrina, the Gulf spill, Fukushima.  The lessons we’ve learned from these disastrous events were there for the taking but we too often decided to let the talking heads interpret for us.

If you believe the abridged version of rhetorical absolutes, the hanging chads were simply too much for a beleaguered group of Floridians, the nation didn’t have the grit to await a factual answer as to who would lead them into the new century, and so SCOTUS elected the president (but don’t consider it a precedent, because it wasn’t one — and don’t ever ask about it again!).

The Towers fell because Islam hates us, not because we can’t keep our noses out of other people’s business or our hands off other nation’s resources. Katrina was an act of Gawd, not a corruption of local and state government to deny funding — before and after the fact — to protect citizens from the inevitable challenges of its topography. Again, the Gulf spill was one of those flukes, not a problem with Halliburton’s cheap  construction materials or the — now quietly acknowledged — undue haste and shortcuts at the rig, pressed for profit, not safety. And Fukushima?

I heard a CNN anchor announce, with a hint of astonishment in her voice, that on the fifth anniversary of the nuclear disaster, it will still take some FORTY years to clean up. She was young, pretty, I hadn’t seen her before, and so couldn’t speak for her knowledge on any given subject, but she seemed to me as empty — and therefore, dangerous — as that tank of ours.

Did she know how destructive her lack of understanding is, how inappropriate her incredulity that something as toxic as nuclear material might not be easy to sweep under the rug? Did Anderson Cooper — a man who likely puts sunscreen on his sunscreen — know, reporting from Japan in 2011, that he was putting his life in extraordinary danger? Greg Palast did:

“On March 12, 2011, as I watched Fukushima melt, I knew: the “SQ” had been faked. Anderson Cooper said it would all be OK.  He’d flown to Japan, to suck up the radiation and official company bullshit. The horror show was not the fault of Tokyo Electric, he said, because the plant was built to withstand only an 8.0 earthquake on the Richter scale, and this was 9.0. Anderson must have been in the gym when they handed out the facts. The 9.0 shake

Then, this week, just when it seemed as though nobody was paying attention to the obvious dangers presented by the failing infrastructure and flawed construction of aging nuclear facilities, something interesting happened. The Japanese court system ordered the shut-down of Takahaka Nuclear Plant, leaving the nation with just two nuclear reactors, and signaling an end to its blanket acceptance of the industry as the gold standard.

At the same time, here in the states, seven high-ranking engineers with the Nuclear Regulatory Commission took the unusual step of filing an independent finding warning that nearly every U.S. atomic reactor in use today has a generic safety flaw that could spark a disaster. They note that 98 out of the 99 nuclear facilities operating in the United States are currently subject to a serious cooling system defect that threatens every one of them. That they sidestepped normal reporting process with the NRC speaks to their concerns that their findings would be ignored.

There is progress happening out there in the real world, even if its not all that easy to spot. Look for it! Spread it around! In such a surreal political climate, unless we know what’s going on around us, we think the worst is all there is. We need to share the good news to buoy us, and pass around the bad to motivate us. But this above all — we dare not ignore any of it.

If there’s a take-away today, this is it: in 2012, John McCain corrected a woman at a rally who accused Obama of being foreign-born, a Muslim, and someone she considered dangerous to America. McCain quickly assured her that those things were not true. It was the last time I remember that kind of integrity from a politician on the right.

Last night, at the Republican debate, the topic of violence at Mr. Trump’s rallies came up and no Republican candidate — not one — spoke out against it. They danced around the issue as if it would burn their fingers. How race in so many guises can consume a party position and seldom be mentioned out loud is just beyond me! There is no question, none, that there is nothing more dangerous to the democratic process than the denial of anyone’s right to assemble, to speak, or to expect protection from violence.

That there is no such guarantee on the right, defended by conservatives of good faith and a belief in liberty, speaks louder than words. With their silence, the Republican party has denied American citizens their basic rights, and we — all of us — must speak out against it. If it is our intent to do no harm, then we MUST speak against what is harmful to any of us.

We know the cost of silence.

They came for the Communists, and I didn’t object for I wasn’t a Communist;

They came for the Socialists, and I didn’t object for I wasn’t a Socialist;

They came for the labor leaders, and I didn’t object for I wasn’t a labor leader;

They came for the Jews, and I didn’t object for I wasn’t a Jew;

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to object.

— Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor (1892-1984)

“Love comes to you and you follow, lose one, on to the heart of the sunrise”
— Jon Anderson, Bill Bruford, Chris Square and Rick Wakeman (of Yes)

Shortly before 5:24 am EST (10:23:44 UTC) tomorrow, Venus leaves Aquarius behind to enter Pisces. The next day (Sunday) daylight savings time begins again in the U.S. and Canada. Strictly speaking, the two events are not related. Nonetheless, astrology reminds us that there are no coincidences, only correlations.

The start of daylight savings time is not a hardship for most, but it is a significant adjustment for many. It’s a small example of human endeavors that mess with both nature and your mind, even to the extent of feeling like a loss.

To have an hour suddenly displaced when the time “springs forward” from 2 am to 3 am Sunday morning will, in fact, result in a temporarily lost hour of sleep for many. Losing an hour of sleep is relatively minor compared to other forms of loss, but it is no small thing either.

Unless you prepare by going to bed an hour early on Saturday night (as if), and until you adjust, missing an hour of sleep can easily be experienced subjectively rather than objectively. It is even possible (and entirely human) for the perceived loss of sleep to evoke other perceived losses and leave you feeling a bit melancholy. All of which is not unlike what some of us sky watchers are feeling about how the ingress of Venus into Pisces correlates with events in the sky.

Just as with Mercury joining the Sun in Pisces back on March 5 (resulting in its visage being lost in the heart of the sunrise now), Venus entering Pisces means it is moving to pass behind the Sun from our earthly perspective. With each successive morning the amount of time Venus is visible in the pre-dawn sky grows shorter and shorter.

Soon, the solar glare will wash it out it out, and we won’t see Venus again until it reappears in the western sky after sunset later this year. Given the association Pisces has with the ocean (among other things), one might subjectively sense that Venus is sailing off over the eastern horizon on its way to travel around the world.

Very much as is the case with Mercury (and anybody cruising off to circumnavigate the globe), Venus will in fact not be lost, just out of sight for a while. Similarly, when the U.S. and Canada return to standard time later this year (on Nov. 6) the lost and missed hour will be returned. Such is the way of things in a world (and a universe) where cycles underlie much of reality.

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Remembering how the prevalence of cycles ultimately transforms many perceived losses into returns will help give you some perspective on Monday.

For, along with a missed hour of sleep, Monday will see Venus having progressed far enough into Pisces to square Mars in Sagittarius. The angular separation from Venus to Mars will evoke the three times last year when those same two planets danced in and out of occasions when they conjoined to share the same degree of the same sign.

What went with the three conjunctions of Venus and Mars last year will thus be implicit on Monday. If that implication results in correlations for you, there will be no need for melancholy.

Instead, know in your heart that all the proverbial wheels will continue to turn. Understand that what is out of sight is not necessarily lost. Remind yourself that whatever you miss will often return, in some way, somehow, even if you can’t see everything that is in fact going on and on, in the heart of the sunrise.

Offered In Service (and dedicated to those who lost loved ones at Fukushima five years ago today)