I've not had the experience of sensing what the year ahead holds, other than that, going into Lent of 2020, I had a loose sense that special trials lay ahead.
Curious that you're drawing a blank this year. It's probably not because the end of time is only a few short weeks away, is it? (j/k)
I am scheduled to turn forty in early March. The realization that my allotted time is not infinite hits different. Promise fades. Nostalgia lingers like a ground fog. Castles in the air go pop. Less and less is left of the world of my childhood.
Astrologically, my progressed Sun is on the cusp of Taurus. I feel as though I could be arriving on earth for the first time. I am ready to do more than struggle inwardly and dream. Adolescence was a hell of a drug, but I am coming down, my thirties having been a lengthy runway for the landing. I am ready to live pragmatically and enjoy the time I have left.
For some of it, I'll accept being set in my ways, the shape of my fate more unalterable now than ever. For others, there has never been a time like the present to go after what more I may still want from life. Never have I been so resourced and assured, although I feel a youthful vital power start to wane in me.
To be lost in a fog and wandering mostly blind is a familiar feeling to me. I used to feel I was the only one doing it, and back of the fog was a cruel cold static world peopled by those of sure aim. Now the world really seems to become more protean, and its future less decided. But at the same time I relate to it more personally, and my own vision is more engaged by what is present before me. I feel like in some strange way the world and myself have caught up with each other, as in varied ways the old boundaries between conscious and unconscious, public and private, reality and fantasy, soften.
You should consider moving to a suburb in central Texas. It's not your paragon vision of home, but it's close. You may also want to consider somewhere in Georgia or Alabama.
I've not had the experience of sensing what the year ahead holds, other than that, going into Lent of 2020, I had a loose sense that special trials lay ahead.
Curious that you're drawing a blank this year. It's probably not because the end of time is only a few short weeks away, is it? (j/k)
I am scheduled to turn forty in early March. The realization that my allotted time is not infinite hits different. Promise fades. Nostalgia lingers like a ground fog. Castles in the air go pop. Less and less is left of the world of my childhood.
Astrologically, my progressed Sun is on the cusp of Taurus. I feel as though I could be arriving on earth for the first time. I am ready to do more than struggle inwardly and dream. Adolescence was a hell of a drug, but I am coming down, my thirties having been a lengthy runway for the landing. I am ready to live pragmatically and enjoy the time I have left.
For some of it, I'll accept being set in my ways, the shape of my fate more unalterable now than ever. For others, there has never been a time like the present to go after what more I may still want from life. Never have I been so resourced and assured, although I feel a youthful vital power start to wane in me.
To be lost in a fog and wandering mostly blind is a familiar feeling to me. I used to feel I was the only one doing it, and back of the fog was a cruel cold static world peopled by those of sure aim. Now the world really seems to become more protean, and its future less decided. But at the same time I relate to it more personally, and my own vision is more engaged by what is present before me. I feel like in some strange way the world and myself have caught up with each other, as in varied ways the old boundaries between conscious and unconscious, public and private, reality and fantasy, soften.
You should consider moving to a suburb in central Texas. It's not your paragon vision of home, but it's close. You may also want to consider somewhere in Georgia or Alabama.