When the Dust Settles
Yesterday I felt the square between Mars and Uranus beginning to engage and express in the physical realm.
One of the most obvious manifestations happened at work. I was down in my impressive deep squat position, organizing glass bottles of supplements in a single file line. I heard the phone pick up for the intercom and thought nothing of it in that moment, but the very next was filled by an earth-shattering squeal that persisted for far longer than normal. Everyone is familiar with that whistle-effect that holding a phone to the receiver can make over the loud speaker. Usually its brief and somewhat bothersome but not really all that noticeable. This piercing sound permeated the building and pulsed.
Without thinking twice, I rose from my squat and with the spring action in my feet I bolted. If our store had a football team, I’d be the first-string wide receiver because I tucked and swerved through a wall of customers waiting to check out at the registers. After a bob, a weave, and a zig zag I made it to the front desk where sat the phone in question. To my surprise, the phone was snuggled nicely in its designated spot on the receiver. It wasn’t our phone. I felt a wave of defeat wash over me. All the adrenaline I’d used to make haste to the front crashed into my feet. I walked slowly back to my section with the siren’s shrill cry still screaming in the background. It must have been a full minute or two of this God forsaken sound before someone in the administrative office found out their phone was off the hook.
It took a moment to process, but I saw my manager walking away from the front desk, and the look on his face was complete shock. I have to admit that I find these kinds of scenarios to be exactly what I am always waiting for; something exciting to break the norm. I wanted to know exactly what had happened, so I decided to chase him down to find out. That’s when I noticed how bad I was shaking. I’ve mentioned before that I have what is called Essential Tremor, I don’t know whats so essential about it, but the shaking worsens if I am exposed to any sort of excitement. “Did you do something to make it stop?” I asked him. He looked at me and shook his head, eyes still as big as flying saucers. “No, I just need to know who I need to murder” he joked, which made me laugh so hard I forgot for a moment about my shaking.
My manager was concerned about my trembling, as people generally are, but I assured him that I just needed a moment to calm down. I was really there to engage because I felt weird for taking action. I have a hero complex (Sun at 19° of Aries = exalted Sun at the exact Degree of Exaltation so I mean… it's justified). There are a lot of contributing factors to this character I play in the movies of my mind, not least of which being that my dad was serving in Desert Storm while I was still baking in the oven. I think the elevated stress hormones of my mother’s womb really did have an impact on me. Now its like my body craves these insane highs. Despite being a little shaken, I was laughing hysterically.
It reminds me of this girl I went to high school with my senior year. She and I shared the same name, but what made her more memorable was her epileptic seizures that would happen during class. Out of nowhere, she would lock up and begin convulsing. We all knew the drill in class because she sat in the front, so the teacher would stop instruction and her friends sitting next to her would tend to her, laying her out flat and waiting for the sweet sound of her laughter. Everytime she came-to she was delightfully giddy, which not only comforted all of us but broke the dead silence of our collective concern.
It makes me think that maybe the hero doesn’t have to be the one that runs into the fire. Maybe the hero is the one that can bring everyone back to the happy frequency when the dust has settled. Mars and Uranus is sure to bring the fire (explosive at that)! You may feel reactive when met by shocking (Uranus) or piercing (Mars) signs that come to you, but with this transit, think over it twice.
Originally written in Collective Journaling at The Stoa
