In fact, I fell in love so much that I frantically learned to read other people’s charts and interpret transits, all easily on my computer. And in the end, I was lucky enough to turn this passion for astrology into a full-time job. But one day, in the midst of the 2020 lockdown, as I sat down at my desk and was about to write my monthly horoscope, I found myself unable to type. I was bewildered, but also thought, well, give it a few days. Days turned into weeks, then months, and I couldn’t even make myself track transits for my personal use, let alone public consumption.
But related story
It was devastating and terrifying, because not only was my career in jeopardy, but it felt as if this exercise I loved so much had suddenly parted with me without end. After months of tears and anger, I had no choice but to move on. I stopped trying to write horoscopes, closed a booking website to read, and mourned my relationship with astrology and the planets I thought I knew so well.
But an unexpected thing happened. I find myself noticing the change of the moon while walking with my dog, sensing whatever emotion comes up without paying attention to its cues. it was available to me, rather than analyzing what transit says about making the most of the day. I experienced a profound emotional breakthrough in my personal therapy work, only to be told by a friend casually that there was a solar eclipse that very day.
I slowly understood that the planets didn’t part with me, they just wanted me experience them rather than just studying them. They talk to me all the time, willing to share their wisdom with me, if I can only slow down enough to hear them. They are with me every step of the way, even when I stop following them on an app. And I discovered what it feels like to just be in the present moment with the planets, right here, right now, on my mystical journey, observing their magic in awe. and wonder, instead of just looking at them to predict the future.
I don’t know what all this means for my astrological practice in the future, I just know that it will never be the same. I couldn’t wrap this experience in a neat and tidy bow like I had hoped I could, and I hope I never will. But if I did learn one thing, it was this—rather than looking down at my phone and demanding an immediate answer, I would choose to look up at the sky and ask countless questions.
