The universe doesn’t give a flying fuck about you (if you’re reading this mom, sorry for the f bombs). But it does affect you and you can either evolve with it, or well, you can die a slow death. I learned this the hard way.
If you study the planets or patterns or numbers, evolutionary cycles, there are certain periods in the experience of human life-ing that don’t ask but require you to transform, shift, breakdown, break open, whatever you want to call it. These shifts happen multiple times throughout our lives. In astrology, they are referred to as nodal returns or planetary transits, and they point to pretty huge developments in our consciousness and, consequently, our experience of this thing we call life. They happen when the transiting planet or lunar node goes back to the exact signs and houses they were in when you were born. This cycle repeats about every 18 years or in the case of Saturn and Uranus transits, every 7-8 years, and marks key chapters of personal growth, destiny, and shifting life direction (or something like that).
I went through my first nodal return/shift/transformation when I was about 19. I was halfway through my junior year in college and I was facing what felt like a completely overwhelming no win situation; to figure this whole life thing out pretty much on my own within the next year and a half, or bide time. The former wasn’t going to happen any time soon because, well, I was 19 and life had existed for at least 3.5 - 3.8 billion years before me. So yeah. I decided to bide my time with a slightly unhinged frat guy I’d met. He loved writing plays and hailed from the Midwest, so I figured he couldn’t be all bad. Yet, early glimpses of the next thirty-one years of my life were already breaking through. They were not pretty. But I dug in and hoped for the best.
The second shift took place when I was about 27. I married that frat guy from the Midwest and committed myself to what most would describe as a conventional life of safety and financial security. We were both teachers (as is the typical path for a writing and history major - him being the latter) and we bought kayaks and got certified in scuba diving and lived by the beach. It seemed, at least from the outside, like a pretty good gig. But life became increasingly void of friends and family, the Midwestern frat guy became increasingly volatile, and the doors of my heart started slowly closing. I was aware of what was taking place, I just didn’t know how to stop it.
The next shift took place when I was about 36. I managed to escape from a place that I can only describe as hell, with my then 4 month old (yes, I had a baby with him) after waking up to the realization that this situation was actually getting worse not better, and that I was now responsible for another human life. I plotted out my escape with what I can only describe as CIA level precision and tactical maneuvering and left the marriage by the skin of my teeth, with a bleeding heart, and with this beautiful being I had created on my chest. I clawed my way out and devoted myself to healing my broken self and helping my child learn how to survive the next 18 years and beyond.
I turn 51 in a few weeks. I’m happily remarried (not that that is an indication of success, but I do think it indicates that I can do this whole relationship thing a little better than before), my child is now a teenager and seems to understand how to take care of and advocate for himself, we have art filling up every corner of our home, and most importantly, our dog seems to really like it here. And so naturally, I’m going through yet another transformation. But this one feels different. This one is coming from wisdom and resilience born of years of battle, tears, grief, and an enduring belief (whether naive or not, and I believe not) in this thing we call love. It is coming from a need to fully articulate the critical and fragile nature of peace, the value of Mother Nature in our own peace, and the important work of preserving it. And it comes with an awareness of a calm light, a gentle knowing light that we carry inside us that is always there and if we listen to it (and Nature can help us access it), it will help us to not fuck shit up all the time.
So, this one feels different and important and like I need to not miss this. And so I write.
My 51st birthday is in a few weeks too! You’ve pulled yourself out of such dark places by turning on the lights and seeing the truth. We can all run from the truth but for so long before it bites us on the ass. I’m so proud of you for doing all of that hard work to get yourself to this place of beauty and meaning and love. Even if sometimes it still feels like we have mountains to climb, at least we are finding the people that will help us survive it. I love you sister! Glad to be in your orbit! (see what I did there ;) )