The first thing I did after posting last was to look up the astrology of the sketches from September 2018 when, it turns out, I first declared myself an Artist and began a daily, ritualized creative practice that would eventually become Present Moment Living and Planning. (see photos below)
Venus, Goddess of Love and Creativity, was transiting my first house (external self) in Scorpio (intensity) conjunct my natal Jupiter (expansiveness) and would soon catch up with transiting Jupiter in a conjunction to my natal Venus. Fun-loving Venus may be in her detriment in intense Scorpio, but carried forth by Jupiter’s expansive optimism, she is an unstoppable force riding the waves of joyful possibilites. Venus in Aries (February 3, 2017 – June 6 2017) had physically removed me from the over-domestication, servitude and loneliness of my marriage. Now she set about turning me into a whole new person. One who would be having a lot more fun and tolerating a lot less BS.
Goddess that she is and with Jupiter’s optimism on her side, Venus timed this gargantuan task perfectly. The supportive opposition of my natal Saturn was helping Venus establish healthy boundaries and build purposeful structure into my days (see planner photos below). Transiting Uranus, also in energetic opposition to Venus, willed her to embrace the chaos and uncertainty of the present moment as she shook off old ways of being. I was keep-no-prisoners hardcore about who was allowed in my home or aura space. Previously acquiescent and avoidant, now I had no compulsion about stating clearly what was unacceptable and removing myself or another without once getting a hot flush of shame. This served me well in divorce court. XDH didn’t know what had happened to his ever-blushing bride.
My penthouse apartment, high vibration and resistance-free, was a Venus-worthy work of art with acoustic ceilings and twenty foot windows, absent other peoples’ dirty dishes or shitty energy. (see photos below) I could dance and shake my newly-fine PureBarre-booty and no one rolled their eyes or looked at me sideways. I could sing in full voice and no one complained it was too loud (except once when I forgot it was 1:00 AM and suddenly discovered I could hit high notes with a clarity and ease that had eluded me since a voice teacher got hold of me in 1981). I was responsible for no one but myself. Devastatingly heartbroken by the loss of connection with my teenage daughters, I didn’t let it stop me. I developed a motto: You can laugh or you can cry and only one of those has a happy ending.
Venus and Jupiter had a plan for my reinvention as an Artist and I gave myself over to it without resistance.
