I’m probably going to shock your readers with this statement, but it’s true. I am a shy Leo lass. I account this to my Pisces rising sign and because my Sun is in the 6th house. I have a Libra Moon in the 7th, but have only found this makes me an agreeable collaborator and project lead. In sum, I’m a terrifically hard working artist who really wants the whole world to fall at my feet and marry me — if only I could pry my stiff fingers away from my Wacom!
Lately I’ve been cultivating a deep vein of nostalgia for an old love of mine, a Virgo who brought a lot of yin to my artist’s yang, and just popped up in town again. I’d say he was a lover, but it never got that far in the flesh. I was happy to indulge the fantasy of him, instead; and well, hell, he was a fantastic, acerbically divine muse while we worked together a few years ago.
But now he’s long gone, and though this year has been mega professionally successful, personally I’ve been feeling uncharacteristically and uncomfortably hollow inside throughout much of this Venus retrograde; particularly this past week. I feel that not only have I missed this vital Virgo dreamboat, he will never return to my dock again. Is it too late to get wet?
The Trippin’ Leo Torch-Bearer
I recently saw a video of an amazing invention: an augmented reality sandbox — a three dimensional topographical map space that allows kids to move sand around while colored lights respond in real-time to the children’s constant reshaping of the space. With the scoop of a hand, suddenly the deep blue of a concavity became a bright red mountaintop!
When I read your note, I couldn’t help but think about this video.
My first piece of advice about all nostalgia trips is this: know which map you’re looking at and from what vantage point was it created. Like sand in a child’s hand, the material of our memories gets pushed around so that ponds become plateaus, and mountains more like foothills. The cartography of love’s labors lost is notoriously imprecise and predictably unpredictable.
On the other hand, I think everyone needs an augmented reality sandbox the size of a swimming pool, where we can jump in with our whole selves and throw our total bodies into the effort of rearranging our interior landscapes, including memories. Disagree away, but there’s room in my world for big playful gobs of ‘what if’.
That’s the amazing difference between us and other species (so far as we know now): we can play games all day with probabilities, speculations and just plain guessing. Imagination is fun! Play is practice for life, right?
Obviously at some point we need to stop practicing and do the thing. We need to step out of the sandbox and onto something more like stable ground. Or, yes, risk The Coif and get wet.
Which is the greater problem, then: augmented reality or risk? For you, I gently propose augmented reality is the lesser evil. Who enjoys getting turned down? No one! Certainly not you, the sensitive one who prides herself in making good choices, producing exemplary work, and showing herself to be the gracious and diplomatic better among equals in your little round table of creative quests.
About your Moon, though: Libra is a sign that would rather be in charge of the seating arrangements in life, even as it makes others feel as if they’re the honored guest of the hour. Letting others name the head count can be your secret challenge; you can’t stand the idea of being left out, but forfeiting your control over certain details threatens your innate experience of leadership.
Love can be a trust fall, and in the 7th house, your Moon seeks satisfaction in knowing it can fully trust its own judgment — and that of others. Can you risk The Coif to the messy stakes of the heart, and possibly land in the deep end? Your Libra Moon may need a swim cap.
Perspective for your map: Venus is only half done with Leo, and she doesn’t turn direct until Sept. 7. Before she does, the coming Full Moon in Pisces Aug. 29 will light up your rising sign, followed by a frisky conjunction of Venus and Mars in Leo on Sept. 1. That’s a lot of information and observation coming your way! Use it. Mine it. Push it around in your personal giant sandbox of augmented reality.
As for your Virgo friend, September’s eclipses could shift his sandbox, too. By November, Venus and Mars make their third and final exact conjunction of 2015 — this time in the sign Virgo. Much of this summer’s landscape may be unrecognizable for both of you by then, and that will be an excellent moment to reassess your heart’s coordinates.
Madame Z. – The word “sublime” is not quite adequate to express your ultimately practical, yet ephemerally nuanced offering here today. The word “subtle” likewise (and paradoxically) feels too crass to capture your straightforward, yet divinely parabolic advice. To say you do fine work is not enough. For you continually demonstrate a mastery beyond the artisan level. i wish i know how to praise you properly for this piece, but every expression of praise i can think of seems like a slight to both your work and my appreciation of it. Please let be enough to say that you always serve to humble me and inspire me at the same time.
Parabolic! That’s what I should have explained to my college professors who always wanted me to get to the point, dammit. Perhaps if you’d been there we could have together convinced them of my sublimity.
Thank you, Len. Every letter is a lesson for me, too.