Mars is the little planet who’s receiving a lot of attention these days.
Mars is slipping and sliding, more like careening, through Sagittarius at this point. Just got done crossing over where my Sun lies. Lays. One of those. Means I was wound tight except, as an astute observer of this material, I was careful. Extra careful. No hasty notes. No yelling at clients. I did get rather animated during one phone reading, but that was all in good fun, and I hope that the message was clear. Seemed to be.
So I was working along through the scopes, and I hit a snag. It’s not like I suffer from writer’s block, but I was a little upset at something from the mail bag, and I wasn’t in a “good place,” not in a happy space at all. Having already written a Scorpio scope, I couldn’t take it out on my favorite sign, so I had no recourse.
Then I turned my attention to something I’d read recently, in fact, something that I’d written recently, and it served as a reminder for myself, as to a more correct and healthy course of action. It’s this week’s Gemini scope.
The funny part is the “I hate to take my own advice” bit. The sad piece of the puzzle is that it fits me. Gemini (opposite from Sagittarius) is feeling a similar effect, and hence, a similar sense about what is happening.
Doesn’t make taking my own medicine any easier.
This lead to flipping through the old archives, just the last year or two of e-mail, and that lead to an old note that suggested I was the most “self referential writer” in the sea of astrological advice on the web.
I suppose, we all have to be good at something.
When in doubt? Fish.
Simple advice, and I was out early on a winter’s day, barefoot, wearing shorts, drowning a single worm that looked like it was a junkie, poor worm had been pierced so many times. Eventually, me and that worm got tired of no fish, and I unhooked the worm, and tossed him in the lake. Free! Free at last! Either it survives, or becomes someone’s lunch.
A cold wind whipped through and suddenly it was 20 degrees cooler. I grabbed a different pole, and sauntered out to the shoreline after a wardrobe change. A little feller on a cotton-candy finesse worm. Then, after a little more work and quick detour downtown, another one, a little bigger. See? Cold weather brings out the fight in them fishes. That second one was mad, all attitude, probably irritated that he fell for the same kind of worm, a second time. I did let him keep the worm, though, a blue-colored item, you know, sort of a consolation prize.
