Category Archives: Welcome

Healing My Father Wound

By Christina Louise Dietrich

“If you ever meet someone brave and powerful enough to walk with you directly through your most uncomfortable wounds and shadow caves—someone with the stupefying courage to see through the chinks of your armor and then help you take it off—love them. Because they have done something for you which is impossible to do alone. They will show you the treasure you’ve been seeking all your life, and they can do this because they aren’t afraid of your fear.” -Jacob Nordby


Like many females raised under patriarchy, I received my first lesson in bodily sovereignty from my father, who told me with his actions that my body wasn’t for me; it was for him. I continued to learn that lesson in myriad other ways from family members, peers, and lovers; but never so powerfully as that first wounding. When he took advantage of my innocence and a grossly unbalanced power dynamic to seek relief from his own pain and suffering by making me partially responsible for and complicit in it.

Christina Louise Dietrich

Christina Louise Dietrich

I’ve worked my entire life to recover from that seminal experience, never really believing I would arrive at healing. There are so many ways this culture insidiously and blatantly tells women that their bodies are for public consumption, for male appreciation and appropriation that it’s almost impossible to see any kind of light through such a dark tunnel. And even when I would see flashes of light, when I would think I had made progress—something would inevitably happen to re-trigger my shame and embarrassment.

My anxiety over knowing I would have to do something I didn’t want to would threaten to engulf me, and I would once again be reminded that I was never going to be anything more than a commodity. A balm for another man’s bruised ego, threatened vulnerability, or misplaced anger. Because once the stage is set; once the scenery is primed by lack of consent, misogyny, broken trust, shame, and coercion there’s no such thing as free will. Once a society’s propaganda about gender roles, sexual expectations, and dominance are ingested you can’t really see any other choices. Not really.

And, I didn’t see any other choice. Oh sure, I was sexually “liberated” in that I was actively bisexual and a practicing polyamorist, was fluent in kink and BDSM, and would try just about anything that didn’t involve shit or fire. I was Good, Giving and Game. But almost every time, I felt like a prostitute, and not in the liberated, empowered way. I could feel something inside me twist in fear; my gut would feel sick, nauseous; my anxiety would spike and sometimes I would want more than anything to disappear or run away. Like a scared rabbit.

Or a violated child. Someone with zero agency or power.

I didn’t even know how wounded I was until Brendan and I began to actively use Holistic Peer Counseling (HPC) in our sexual relationship—I’ve written about how our using HPC techniques helped me begin reclaiming my sexual identity. Which was back in April of this year. We have since then remained committed to transparency, talking through, and embracing The Awkward during sex, and it has continued to deepen our connection to both one another and to our separate grounds. By which I mean we have learned to trust ourselves and one another to create an authentic connection in the moment, as opposed to believing we have to show up already turned on. We have found it increasingly easy to be grounded around and loving toward one another, even when the world and its inhabitants are sending us the chaotic and hateful.

I trust Brendan like I have trusted no other human on this planet. Ever. And there were still parts of me that couldn’t meet him. Didn’t trust him. Couldn’t surrender to the experience of our bodies communicating. Because those parts KNEW they would ultimately have to do something they didn’t want to: they would have to sacrifice their version of desire for his and then fulfill his desire by surrendering our body.

And then something happened. I had an experience so powerful and consciousness changing that I will literally never be the same again.

In addition to HPC, Brendan and I use ecstasy about once a quarter as a therapeutic relationship aid, which is actually what it was designed for in the first place. The ravers just knew a good thing when they found it. Each time we take it, the overall intensity of the effect and what we “get” out of the experience has increased; primarily, I believe, due to how we are changing and growing together, how we are healing ourselves. Because the ecstasy we get is tested regularly and pretty homogenous, so dosage variations significant enough to muddy the water are relatively unlikely.

This last time we took it was different from the start. We elected to ingest it orally as opposed to snorting it (which makes the onset much faster and harder to balance); we wanted to be embodied and to feel the effects occur more slowly so that we could find balance of attention with the sensations. We consciously set an environmental and emotional container for healing, connectedness, and loving compassion. What we didn’t realize until the next day was the level of alchemy we were conjuring into being.

Now, ecstasy is a great drug for having deep connected sex fueled by serotonin and oxytocin; it’s positively orgasmic in that your entire body feels alive and engorged, full of light and love. Ecstasy is not, however, a great drug for having a climax; in fact, unless you have access to a powerful vibrator and can get off from using one, chances are you’re just going to have to wait until the drug leaves your system sufficiently before you can finally experience that particular release. This means I can have a climax while high on ecstasy, but it takes a LOT of focused attention and the aid of a Hitachi Magic Wand. A fact that will come into play very shortly.

So, Brendan and I were having sex on ecstasy and it was amazing. I mean, like seriously connected, attuned, hot, wet, in almost-total surrender and animal-like abandon. We reached the point where it seemed like he was going to be able to climax, or at least wanted to try, and in that moment what I wanted more than anything was to feed his energy; to stoke it and follow it and add all the hot energy I was building to his fire; I wanted to follow him up and through his climax while still remaining totally aroused, totally present, in total devotion to his pleasure.

I remained in that space for a long time because, as noted, ecstasy makes it super hard for anyone to climax who doesn’t have a vibrator. So Brendan and I chased his climax for 15, 20, 30 (?) solid minutes—I don’t really know because time stands still when you’re high and on the knife-edge of pleasure like that. All I know is that I surrendered completely and I held back my climax for longer than I had ever imagined possible. It was excruciating and awesome and more agonizingly pleasurable than anything I’d ever felt. I was terrified by the power I could feel building inside me; afraid it might engulf me or maybe kill me. I wasn’t sure I could hold out.

And then, when it seemed impossible to wait any longer, he said he wasn’t going to be able to climax, and that I should. That he wanted me to push through and take that pleasure for myself. I will never be able to adequately describe what happened to me over the next minute or two, but it felt like my entire body became a clitoris; I had my first whole-body climax. For one solid minute, I inhabited every single cell of my body. And I sobbed. With my whole body and soul and core I sobbed; without censure or shame I wailed as waves of golden light passed through me.

Brendan knew Something Important was happening; he could feel the hugeness of the moment and so all the while I was thrashing and sobbing I could hear him intoning “Your Body, Your Body, Your Body, Your Body” while cradling my lower body in his arms rather like a wounded child. Which, in that moment, I absolutely was. Because in that moment I was finally able to grieve what I lost when my father touched my clitoris for selfish reasons. In that moment I felt again what it was like to be in my entire alive body all at once. I felt All of Me for the first time since early childhood; I was sovereign once again.

Brendan has been helping me uncover and identify my shadows for six years, even when it’s been excruciating for his own wounds, even when he was terrified he might die or I might abandon him. He has walked with, loved, guided, and re-parented me, and he didn’t flinch when it came time to meet my maker. He walked with me to that darkest of places and then stood by me while I opened that smallest of doors, that 4-year-old–size door where Little Chrissy hid all her pain, fear, and shame. Where she buried that ugliest of wounds so no one could ever see it and shame her for having been so gullible, so trusting.

He walked with me to that door and once it was open, he invited me to step inside, alone; to take for myself all the power and pleasure everyone else in my life had taken for themselves. He has been a fierce advocate for my wholeness and sovereignty because, by his own words, “I could never have given you what you built yourself.”

That was eight days ago. And every day since then, I’ve noticed two awesome and previously nearly-inconceivable things: I feel grounded without consciously thinking about grounding, and the voices in my head have mostly gone away. Except for one: the voice of Intuition. There are actually times when Intuition is the only voice I can hear. Sometimes for a few hours at a time. I don’t know about you, but for me this is literally the best thing that’s ever happened.

For the first time in my memorable life I trust what Intuition says because I can feel Her in alignment with my body and chakras. When I had that minute-long whole-body climax, all my chakras opened simultaneously and I believe I channeled pure healing energy directly from the earth and cosmos. I can’t explain it or rationalize it, and I don’t feel the need to one little bit. I touched the divine in myself as it is mirrored in the universe, and because of that I am now a manifestation of Sovereign Feminine.

I have integrated most of the pain and resistance I’ve always felt around surrendering to those I love, which means I can now be authentically intimate and loving with them—because I know with certainty where I begin and end. I can feel my boundaries vividly, can hear my Intuition clearly—and that means I’m no longer afraid of being coerced into doing something I don’t want to do. It means I trust Brendan to comfort me. It means I can ask for what I need. It means I can take care of myself. It means I can give myself wholly and creatively to playing with Avery in the moment. It means I know what I want, and when I actually identify those wants, I’m pretty certain there’s no part of me needing to please you in them.

It also means I can fully embody my calling and devotion to the healing that continues to arise through intimately parenting my son, re-parenting Brendan, and the continued parenting of Little Chrissy. The experience of having healed my mother wound, and now healing my father wound means I can be strong, vulnerable, and fierce for all of them without reservation, without fear or anxiety.

I didn’t consciously know it at the time, but starting this blog helped me reclaim my Voice. Trusting myself and Brendan to have the deepest, most intimate and awake, loving sex that we could at any given moment helped me reclaim my Intuition. This is the treasure I’ve been searching for my whole life and right now I feel rich beyond measure.


“When we mother the child within ourselves, we are cultivating an inner environment of safety and unconditional love that we did not experience in our childhoods. This heals the frozen energy of early trauma and brings our inner child into the present moment where her purity, innocence, vitality and creativity can be brought into our daily lives. […]

To step into our mastery, we must be increasingly sovereign over ourselves and our own energy. This means fiercely protecting your inner child and thus, allowing your inner life to be your priority. Your sovereignty is what allows you to fully flower and emerge into your full potential.” –Mothering Yourself Into Mastery: The Sovereign Feminine and Your Inner Wealth

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Christina Louise Dietrich, a technical writer by trade, says of herself: “I write because I am claiming the voice my family and my society tried to silence, the voice that was my divine birthright. I am a woman, a mother, a feminist, a wife. I am compassionate, judgmental, loving, a bully, empathetic, obstinate, caring, rigid, and creative. I’m passionate about systems, beauty, process, experience, trees, interconnections, transitions, logistics, balance, and clarity. I manifest the Amazon, the Androgyne, and the Mother-to-be-Crone.”

You can read more at Christina’s blog.

Standing Still

 By Judith Gayle | Political Waves

“I’ve lived long enough to see the triumph of zealots and absolutists, to watch money swallow politics, to witness the rise of the corporate state. I didn’t drift. I moved left just by standing still.”
Bill Moyers, journalist, populist and Baptist minister

It’s interesting how many year-end articles pronounced 2014 a really really REALLY bad year, and on the face of it, it surely was. It felt pretty good to put it behind us, but when we examine the facts, it’s only a title that’s been retired, isn’t it? Twenty-four hours don’t shift a political bias or archive a meme. A calendar change does not a beginning make, unless we collectively decide that is so.

275+Judith_Gayle

So, here we are, just hours into a new year, and as always, launching something new requires a quick — or better, a close — look behind to see where we’re launching from. In last week’s column, I listed a number of the problems that challenged us last year, some becoming iconic like Flight 370, or historically defining, like Ferguson. Many simply fleshed out the list of outrages to which we’ve become lethargic, like school shootings, torture, political corruption, or made us weary like the wars that never seem to cease.

Still, it was the human cost that marked last year as frightful, and it was our lethargy that not only turned a blind eye but exacerbated the problems. If that is to change, it will be you and I who make that decision

Truly, 2014 was just one dreadful happening after another. Will Pitt wrote a piece enumerating the incidents, month by month, in which he declared that if there were awards for worst, 2014 would “have its very own wing” in the “Hall Of Fame Of Suck.” And yet, rarely reported, there was a lot of activity going on behind the media spin, creating waves that continue to turn this unwieldy ship of state, bit by bit, away from its deaf, dumb and highly remunerative love affair with oligarchy.

I’ll write about that in coming weeks, but how we got here, once again makes the process of discovery evident. That must not be missed, because we will see — we will need — more of the same in order to break the hold of our conditioned slumber. We have stragglers, my dears — oh yes, we do, still stuck in dogma and nationalism and paranoia, requiring more jolts to our shaky system, more sounding alarms.

I have no doubt we’ll get our share of even more illustrative cultural and political outrages to bolster our intent to turn government leadership back toward public service this year and next. For example, even before the Republicans took the gavel as the new majority, their House majority whip Steve Scalise — the third-most-powerful man in the House of Representatives — has had to face his history of quietly overt racism, acceptable in his state and his party..

Early in his career, Scalise spoke at a “white pride” event sponsored by the Klu Klux Klan. On the defensive now, Boehner has defended him as a young, naïve state legislator who would talk to anyone who gave him the time, but digging deeper, we find that Scalise was not just friendly with former Klan leader David Duke and his organization, but in his own words, shares Duke’s values. The truth of that is evident in his voting record in the state of Louisiana.

Various articles have come out from the left-leaners, saying the rise of Scalise within the Republican party defines that party’s values, and I’m hard pressed to argue. Although it’s evident that most conservatives do not see themselves as racist, it’s also true that they do not argue for civil liberties except within their own self-serving framework. If there is a clear message to be gleaned from 2014, it is to take a moment to see not just what is being argued by whom, but what is NOT being argued, especially by those in authority.

In New York City, we’ve been given a very clear illustration of how authority protects its own and covers its ass, not just in public perception, but legally as well. We accept, lethargically, that kind of behavior from politicians, physicians, banksters and corporations, even though the first two are charged with pursuing the best interests of the public. Now, we’ve had a potent wake-up call, thanks to Ferguson, about authority gone jack-booted with the militarization of the police force, and we’re not all that comfortable with the concept.

The tragic assassination of two NYC police officers in these last few days — framed as revenge killing for dead black youth, but more accurately described as the final act of an African-American career criminal run amok — was met with an outpouring of grief and outrage from the public. It was politicized, however, by those who agreed with FOX-friendly Rudy Guiliani, who suggested that New York City’s progressive mayor, Bill de Blasio, should apologize to the police force for comments he made about the problem of targeting and excess force against people of color, shortly after the grand jury refused to indict in the death of Eric Garner.

This father of two bi-racial children would not have been true to his own had he not been candid when he said, “We all want to look up to figures of authority. And everyone knows the police protect us, but there’s that fear that there could be that one moment of misunderstanding with a young man of color and that young man may never come back.” Typical of those who can tolerate not one moment of criticism or introspection, the head of the police union came completely unglued and accused the mayor of throwing cops under the bus.

It was during this controversy that the two police officers were gunned down in their cruiser. The upshot was a moment in which many of us shook our heads in dismay, an us/them smack-down that served only to reinforce the chasm between those who take seriously their authority to “serve and protect” and those to whom such power seems absolute: the police turned their backs on de Blasio as he visited the hospital and again, as he delivered the eulogy for Officer Rafael Ramos. Amy Davidson, in her New Yorker article, argued that the first can be forgiven, due to emotion — but not the second, if we are to overcome our differences. Since then, planes have flown over the city with pointed messages to the mayor, reinforcing the notion that he has blood on his hands and is no friend to law enforcement. Anyone with an imagination should consider just how dangerous this situation could become.

Undaunted, de Blasio spells out the racial challenges very specifically in this clip, along with his desire to remedy the problem within his own city. Additionally, he defines the problem with a contentious police force in typically candid but even-handed terms, terms one cannot misunderstand — unless by intent. And that is where we find ourselves with so much of our political discourse, out-pictured by a similarly polarized government.

On the day of the funeral of Officer Rafael Ramos, the church was filled to capacity, the excess of police personnel standing in the streets, watching the events on giant screens. Hundreds of city cops greeted Bill de Blasio’s eulogy by turning their backs in protest. To some of us, looking on, I wondered if there were any of them — standing out in the cold, backs turned — who actually wanted to turn around, aware that life is nuanced, that there are bad cops out there just as there are bad citizens, that black and white describes a cop car and a nun’s habit, not a workable thought process. Which among them, I wondered, were gritting their teeth, afraid to turn around and support an empathetic and realistic assessment of our cultural problems with authority.

And again, we can clearly see what is NOT being said or supported in the inability of so many of our police organizations to ‘police’ within their own ranks, or to allow those of different mind — I’m thinking of the courageous black cop who wrote the op/ed saying he was afraid of the police when he was out of uniform — to take an ethical stand. We can’t have this both ways. Authority for authority’s sake is not democratic principle. Over at Hullabaloo, Digby posted this cartoon. As ever, a picture can save 10,000 words, and this one illustrates the problem with absolutes, the hypocrisy of those who either can’t see the forest for the trees or can, but continue to capitalize on the cheat for their own gain.

We can be assured that there are thousands of policeman around this country who take their oath seriously and work hard to remember that the public they serve isn’t a pool of potential criminals looking to do violence, but a group of people who look to them for protection. And I suspect there are many who find the daily grind of make-work in order to fill a city’s coffers distasteful activity, just as politicians must tire of spending half of their time shaking down contributors for money.

Over at Rolling Stone, Matt Taibbi wrote an interesting piece on the cops staging a ‘slowdown,’ just as the New Year’s hoopla began. Stinging under not just one critical New York Times op/ed for their collective short-sightedness, but two — back to back — the force decided not to deal with any of the piddly little tickets and minor arrests considered revenue; “such arrests have dropped off a staggering 94 percent, with overall arrests plunging 66 percent.” Taibbi posits that this may be the first time in a very long time that the New York City police force is focused on actual criminality, rather than the for-profit harassment that has become a signature issue in cities across the nation. The reporter proposes that this IS their job, not the nit-picking and ticket-issuing, and it should take center stage in our conversation about police reform.

I read recently, in regard to President Obama’s growing willingness to use his authority — Pub whining be damned — that he does best when up against an enemy. The same has been said for this nation, any nation. This is supposedly the human nature we are heir to and have so much trouble rising above. Thick-headed humanity responds best to the carrot/stick, reward/punishment option, so they say, although we very seldom try any other policy, so it’s difficult to judge what we’d do in other circumstances. We have been schooled in these last decades to listen only to those voices that agree with us, to immediately take umbrage, throw retorts and insults (exacerbated when done anonymously, in cyberspace, early on).

It’s also safe to say that in the decades after the assassinations of JFK, MLK and RFK, the majority of us left protests behind, judging them activities hazardous to our health and not entirely successful. But this is another century, another decade, and a new year, and the protests of our hearts that we’ve internalized are now beginning to become externalized. In Florida, for instance, cops who were attempting to arrest a couple of otherwise peaceful (and merely suspected) weed smokers found themselves surrounded by as many as 75 citizens, preventing them from accomplishing their mission. Police seem newly aware that many of us are equipped with phones that can capture the moment on film, providing sharp contrast to their version of events. Cop-cams are coming at the insistence of the public. There is a collective consciousness at work that is — in a word — increasingly empathetic to those who have been treated unfairly and unjustly.

You remember the “empathy” dialogues, brought to light when Barack Obama was looking for a Supreme Court candidate and eventually chose Sonia Sotomayor? He wanted someone in place who could show compassion within the law, putting herself in someone else’s shoes. The debate was fast and furious, of course, with wee Senator Lindsay Graham declaring such a desire an “absurd, dangerous standard.” What to make of such a statement?

Does that mean that compassion and empathy are not fit emotions for this nation? Does it mean the Republicans want no part of such “soft-hearted” notions, even though it appears their own Supremes felt quite moved by the predicament of poor Hobby Lobby? On a larger level does that mean that all conservatives think the cops are the thin blue line between civil (white) behavior and the breakdown of American (non-white) culture? Does the defense of Steve Scalise in leading his party define Republicans as tolerant of racism in the defense of white power? While I will leave the answers to you, I refuse to be one of those defined by what I DON’T say when I’m staring it in the face.

Similar problems exist within the Dem party, of course, although their sins are less cultural than financial. Yes, Dems will gather where the lobbyists water, to get their share, but they seldom want for empathy. And in that regard, here’s a clip that speaks to empathy as the evolution of relationships leading to social change. Interesting think-piece to accompany a Saturday read, if you have the time.

We are defined, not just individually but collectively, by what we tolerate. While we must cast that as a huge net from the human standpoint — trying to regard differing heritage and culture with respect, and empathy for those who have chosen their own path, no matter how difficult — as a nation we must decide just how much fear-mongering, bullying and manipulation we will allow. With everything so evident, and a political year ahead that should leave no questions as to style, this is our opportunity to expand the bottom-up activism that’s changing the political topography.

Given the year just passed, it’s difficult to imagine that progress is actually happening, I know. Like now retired, and soon to be missed Bill Moyers, the political world shifted beneath my feet — and perhaps yours — even as I stood still. I haven’t changed my politics since I was a kid marching in the Berkeley streets for free speech, and yet my brand of populism is considered radical. And may I just say, in that regard — radical, my ASS! What George W. Bush did was radical, but we’d been so conditioned to think of ourselves in Ramboesque super-power terms, we didn’t even notice. Coming to awareness of that debilitating level of nationalism took a long while and a lot of failure in the eyes of the world, starting — didn’t it just!– with George W.

I remember during the Bush years when I ruefully considered myself a Chicken Little, peeping and squawking into cyberspace with little hope of changing barnyard dynamics, yet there were thousands just like me, and look where we are today.  If Cheney has devout followers, I suspect they keep their heads down. If Jeb runs in 2016, I anticipate a barrage of Bush-fatigue will hit the fan (to which I will happily contribute). And when the public becomes aware that the Republicans — now in charge of the whole enchilada — have neither the skill nor intention to make life better for We, the People, I have no doubt that the Warren wing of the Democratic party, populism, and support for civil rights and collective bargaining will begin a swift uptick in popularity.

Eric made the astrology evident in the subscription article this week: as the final Pluto/Uranus aspect finishes its run, the commotion it provoked will not fade away. The transit will have fallout that lasts for years, and with the taste of destruction and rebellion it provided filling our senses, ” … we get to ride the toboggan down the slippery slope.” Although the future comes with no guarantees, even the arbiter of liberal reality, Truth Out, has wondered, out loud, if this is the year that everything breaks differently, based on reports of local activism and successful cultural projects, not to mention enthusiastic contributions to the organizations that continue to fight for political, cultural and ecological progress.

I’m putting all my chips into the pot that 2014 was the year when we got a gut-full of inaction but blamed politics, rather than politicians. That lesson should be obvious quickly enough. I’m betting that those who are newly awake will join in to make changes closer to home, not just in terms of local authority but environmental integrity, food choice and consumption, the political use of our pocket books and the various ways we can protest, and that’s just the short list.

In that regard, I’ve decided to post some kind of activist opportunity each week so that we have positive options at our fingertips. If you have favorite organizations you support and want them included, please send info to me at moderator@planetwaves.net. There are old standbys and new groups birthing themselves daily; help me keep up!

I’m betting that 2014 was the messenger rather than the message, that everything shifting beneath our feet allowed hidden, unexamined information to rise to the surface for further scrutiny. This is shaping up to be the year when we’ll finally be able to see what we’re looking at. I trust that it will be new awareness, fresh experience, and a newly energized human response that will create 2015 as the year when hope, clearly defined by evidence, finally arrives.

A Beginner’s Guide to the 21st Century

Tarot decks from the inventory of the late David Roell at the Astrology Center of America. Photo by Eric.

Dear Friend and Reader:

It’s taken me 14 years to get a handle on the 21st century, but I finally feel like I’m making some progress. One thing that I will say is that I’m learning how helpful it is to look to the past for some information about where we are today. It may not be the ultimate guide, but if you want to know where “here” is, it’s a good idea to know where you came from and how you went.

That includes the astrological past, and it includes the past as told by eras when one communication medium collided with another one. Fortunately there is an easy intersection of those themes, as told in astrology, media studies and social history.

In 1964, in a time much like our own, when many things were changing very fast and few people understood what was happening, a soft-spoken English professor, a Canadian fellow named Marshall McLuhan, came out with a book that explains how society has become a product of its media. It always does, he says, and if you want to understand what society is becoming and why it’s becoming that way, look at how people communicate. Look at their technology. That will tell you the story of what is actually happening.

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New Year’s Eve Story

By Madame Zolonga

WHEN OUR GRANNIES WERE YOUNG, no one got caught home alone New Year’s Eve. Not even if they were the parents of small people. I imagine it was the desperate need to drop the conservative social shackles and swing it fast and hard, if only for one night, that pushed them out the door. That, and there were a helluva a lot fewer cars on the road then. It wasn’t quite the death-defying maneuver it is today.

Now, only a nine year old would think staying up ’til midnight — for the purpose of staying up until midnight — is cool.

And with the advent of Netflix streaming and the end of socially acceptable smoking among the middle class, there’s no point in calling New Year’s Eve parties cool, either. Sane people stay home on New Year’s Eve with two finger’s of Maker’s Mark and a quart of Trader Joe’s Salted Caramel Gelato, and re-watch all four seasons of Battlestar Galactica, ffs. (Twelve zodiacal colonies, man!)

Except for the assholes. You know who you are, and I’ll get to you soon.

I blame this situation on crap history. There’s no natural motivation to celebrate January 1st as the first day of a new year. It’s not astronomically or astrologically aligned with anything in the cosmos to mark it for special recognition. That honor goes to the quarter and cross-quarter days of the ecliptic. Suprisingly for nearly 200 years the English had it right: their new year was celebrated on March 25th, near the spring equinox, and called Lady’s Day. Then sometime in 1752 they agreed to abandon The Virgin Mary and go Roman again. OLD Rome. Republican Rome. B.C.E. Rome.

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The Cremation of Sam McGee

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a thrice, it was called the Alice May.

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a thrice, it was called the Alice May.

It’s something of a Christmas tradition at Planet Waves for me to read this poem — The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W. Service (1878-1958). Here is a new reading, done a few minutes ago — my warmup to the the next-to-last audio reading in Cosmophilia.

Every Possible Experience

Note — I’ve taken the password off of the December extended monthly forecast, which is part year-end, part year-ahead, part current moment. –efc


The other day I had my dad on the phone. We were talking about media theory, one of my favorite subjects (which I happened to be writing about that day, and needed help). It’s a topic that he’s somewhat versed in, as a communications professor. At one point he was poking fun at me for being totally oblivious to the holiday season.

Store decoration on Corner of Wall and John, Kingston, NY.

Store decoration on corner of Wall and John, Christmas Eve, Kingston, NY. Casey points out that the five-pointed star is often displayed in its ‘satanic’ rather than ‘pagan’ position.

He’s correct, in that I’ve made it my business to participate as little as possible in the cultural rituals that surround the winter holidays.

They used to be just dismal for me, particularly as an adult. I would experience actual depression at the annual onset of Christmas — a feeling I could not control or even seem to influence, which was scary.

You know, that feeling of carols playing over the Muzak channel in supermarkets, decorations going up, and all these things that people would do that seemed to make them happy, but to which I could not relate. Everyone driving around with a chopped-down tree lashed to the roof of their car, rushing home.

At least my dad and I can kid about it, and at least he doesn’t take it personally. He knows I’m involved in a project every year at this time, one that (perhaps conveniently) precludes most direct participation — such as traveling. As for buying gifts, I prefer to do that at other times of the year, and I prefer that it be random, rather than associated with specific events.

Lately I’m not as mortified by the holiday season as I used to be. This is a huge improvement in my life. I even look forward to the holidays, so I can assure you that there’s sincere hope for getting over even the worst issues you might have with this time of year.

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A Tradition of Sound Astrological Guidance

Dear Friend and Reader:

In this world, having good information is a way of feeling like you belong somewhere. Relevant knowledge, when you need it, makes life easier. And someone offering you good information reminds you that they care enough to provide you with a hint, an idea, or when called for, a word of caution. Even better, a word of encouragement.

One thing that’s clear about our lives today is that we are responsible for knowing so much — even as the world gets less predictable, and information is relevant for less time. Our moment of history is the perfect time and place for astrology, which can embrace so much of who you are, and even help you see around the bend.

The Planet Waves annual edition, now in its 16th year, is a beautiful tradition of offering sound astrological guidance. I’ve been creating the Planet Waves annual since before most people had Internet access.

Year after year, I’ve conducted impeccable research on the coming four seasons. Then I’ve prepared readings designed to provide you with the ideas, guidance and encouragement to make the most out of your precious time and energy.

One thing you get with your Planet Waves annual reading is the benefit of experience. Lots and lots of experience, which is the result of astrology practiced every single day, year upon year.

In each annual edition, I cover the 12 Sun signs and rising signs in both audio and written format. The spoken word and the written word work differently in the brain, and I want to use both approaches.

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Free Audio Preview of the Sagittarius Birthday Reading

Illustration by Chelsea.

Illustration by Chelsea.

Use this link if you’re listening on an iOS or mobile device. Download MP3.


Your Sagittarius birthday reading is ready — you may listen above, or download it using the links. If you like the preview, the reading is available for instant access! I give a overview of what I cover in this three-part, 90 minute reading, with much of it devoted to the positive aspects of Saturn entering your sign this year and much else. Everyone who purchases this reading will be invited to a live conference call with me where we talk about your astrology and how you’ve responded to your reading.