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| image credit: alixbrandwyn |
I have come to the conclusion that I am
part crow. Or, that the bird and I at least share a few habits. I
like shiny things. Costume jewelry. Metal. Baubles. Glass. They don't
even have to be intact. Broken is fine. It's often the sparkle of it
that catches my eye more than what it is. I hoard this stuff. I have
little stashes of broken glass, jewelry, rocks...sparkly stuff.
Because it would be perfect! “For what?” My husband typically
asks. “I don't know yet.” It's very hard for me to merely discard
something of beauty even if it might be broken.
I've been saying “it will be perfect”
for years. Not being able to resist picking this stuff up has been a
habit of mine since I was a kid. Ironically, imagine how I responded
when I discovered the man I didn't know I was going to marry just yet
lived in a house that was covered by some kind of masonry that
incorporated two stories worth of broken colored glass. “Oh my Caw!
Caw! Caw!”
He and I have recently started
remodeling that home. It's over a century old. So, some of the broken
glass from the masonry has sloughed off. It can be found in the
flower beds around the foundation of the home. I've picked it up to
hoard too. It's storage is scattered in various places in jars and
what have you.
I am also an inheritor of many things.
My grandmother's salt and pepper shaker collection. My grandfather's
antique perfume bottles. Tea cups and dishware that go along with my
already existing tea cup and pot collection. Some of it intact. Some
of it chipped. Broken into various sizes and colors of ceramic. I
can't let go of any of it. It will be perfect for something one day.
Jupiter in Scorpio smiles on me for my inclination toward being
resourceful. I think it is my Scorpio parts that attract these things
to me in the first place. These otherwise “given up for dead or
trash” things.
My “one day” came, recently. A day
in which I was inspired to take some of my crow-collection and make
something of it. I gathered all my pretty broken baubles that could
pass for being water colored...every shade of blue and green with
pale white and even clear pieces of broken glass, marbles, costume
jewelry and miscellaneous “I don't know what” pieces of watery
colored sparklies. I chose a tea cup and a matching saucer from my
collection. I had found a little crafty instructional that showed how
you could make a tea cup float...like magic! I like magic too. It's
sparkly.
I wanted to make my tea cup float and
use all my pretty broken things to create the illusion of water
falling out of it. I've been creating a lot of art projects this
year. It has become part of my personal Moon caregiving. Plus,
keeping my hands busy and occupied helps offset some of the angst
I've felt due eclipses, personal transits..the world in general. I've
used it to turn down the live stream of information constantly coming
into my brain from a screen and into my eyes and, instead, switched
the flow. Letting something stream outwardly from my brain, instead.
I turned down the incoming spigot. And turned up the out flowing one.
That has been my access to sanity lately. Making pretty things. Due
fatigue of being bombarded with ugly. I preferred my sparkly. It's
been an act of self-love, actually.
Plus, I preach this to my clients.
Unplug. Get back in touch. Create. Make art out of your pain, anger,
fear, worry...use all that to create something pretty. It felt good
to take my own advice and be reassured in the results that, yes, this
is soothing. It is, at the very least, saving what remains of my
sanity and producing something out of...nothing, really. Everything
I've been crafting with as of late is just an old piece of something
broken to someone else. My crow parts don't care. They stand behind
me cheering me on. Cocking their heads from left to right..clicker,
clattering their beaks...which to the real world sounds a lot like a
stream of incessant self-talk as my hands move about putting things
where I think they should go. This is my truth. I like pretty sparkly
things. It is not my only truth. But, it is the one I'm walking right
now. Mars and Vesta in Sagittarius delight when you follow your faith
and walk your truth. Doing so while feeling the results of it
strengthens my faith, refocuses and resettles my heart and helps me
rediscover my joy in a world that seems bent on racing to the
apocalypse in some nihilist fantasy land. Not me. I want magic. I
want pretty.
I made my tea cup float off the saucer
just like the instructional taught me to do. Then, I began filling in
the water trickling down from the cup and running into the saucer. As
I was talking to my growing creation (because, I do that), I was
telling it that I wished I had one of those really pretty Venus
statues to put right in the middle of the saucer pond. The growing
piece reminded me of the story of Venus' birth. The teacup and saucer
resembling the open shell depicted in the famous painting. This
seemed especially relevant given I knew Venus was soon to enter
Pisces. I began thinking of the transition made from the end of
Aquarius into Pisces. Venus melts. Much like the water I was making
seemed to do pouring from the tea cup. Hard, jagged, broken shiny
pieces melded together to create an illusion...enchanting illusion.
It all bore the mark of melted, imaginative, creative Venus in
Pisces. Born of the sea.
Venus in Pisces always reminds me of
the phrase “painfully beautiful.” Do you know what I mean? Have
you ever seen something so absolutely indescribably beautiful that it
actually hurt your heart a little to even look at it? Or think about
it? Pisces or Neptune folks know what I'm talking about. Love and
beauty are not just some fantasy. Not just a “concept.” Some
conjured imagining. A vision. It's felt in the body. A beautiful type
of ache right in the heart. It feels just as real as pricking your
finger with a needle. Painfully beautiful. Venus in Pisces can feel
it.
I started looking at my color choices,
thinking, “Wow! Those are surely the all the colors of Aquarius.
And overflowing from a cup? That's it! This piece shall be named
Aquarius!” It was my creation during Aquarius season. It's a
water-bearer. The colors and the sparkly! Yes. This shall be its
name. But, still, there was something missing. It's almost as if the
piece helped choose that name for itself. It fit. But, there was
another reason in there that I was missing.
There were times in my making that I
grew impatient. Putting everything together took time. I had to let
several pieces dry overnight. But, I kept coming back. Step, after
tedious step. Level after level. Layering. Stacking. Then,
waiting...getting just a bit closer each day. Saturn in Capricorn
cheered me on. One step at a time. Reach a little higher tomorrow.
Little more the next day. Just keep going.
So, I did. I just kept going. Stacking,
arranging, tacking together all these pretty colors until finally...a
solid stream of beautiful sparkly broken stuck back togetherness
flowed from my magic teacup. I had to stop and just look at it for a
minute. My crows were going nuts. Sparkly! Sparkly! Caw! Caw! All my
collected pretties were magically sparkly! Before I realized what I
was saying, I had already said it, “Wow. Look at all the beauty in
these marvelously broken things!”
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| image credit: Josephine Wall |
“That is why my name is Aquarius,”
the tea cup said.
A piece of pretty broken glass alone is
just a piece of pretty broken glass. Many, many various kinds of
broken glass, ceramic, marbles a veritable hodge podge of rainbow
colored broken things, no two the same but wildly mixed
together....all together, they became magical. Painfully broken
beauty. It was if you could see something different each time you
looked into that magic water. It tickles the imagination to think of
how many different stories are packed into that little stream. Where
did that dark green piece come from? Who owned it? Where has it
traveled? Was it a gift to someone? How did it break? A million
different and unique stories in each tiny broken piece. The blue
pieces were not diminished by the green pieces. The clear, black and
white pieces didn't take away from the purples and ambers. Instead,
though definitely all still separate, they flowed together to make
one beautiful wave. Interwoven. Integrated. Interdependent.
Look at all the beauty in these
marvelously broken things! Each with their own story. Their own
unique kind of beauty. It was magic how all of it together had now
became a story of its own. It was magic how each held it's own
individual place. Each tiny speck a naked adornment all on its own
needing to be nothing other than what it was to contribute to the
beautiful collection. The collective.
Indeed.
This is why it's name is Aquarius.
Happy New Moon
February 15, 2018 at 4:06 PM EST
Sabian Symbols
28
Aquarius: Huge
pile of sawed up wood insures heat for the winter. Rich contribution
of nature to all who work with foresight. Calm yet potent faith in
providence.
26
Aries (Uranus): A
man bursting with the wealth of what he has to give. Supreme
endowment and
inexhaustibility of resources in all possible life realms. Sometimes obsession by
potentiality.
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