I like to wait until inspiration to write about our cosmic themes, until I hear something that signals recognition in me, a little spark to write about. Perhaps (read: entirely) because I have spent the last six months slogging through a muted, sort of stoned, occasionally sharply painful peat bog of grief, I have not felt that inspiration in some time. But my buddy said something today that reminded me I have a blog.
Her story was that she went to the doctor and they asked for a routine figure, a blood count she used to have done at the local pharmacy, before the plague. Due to our universal upheaval, she had completely forgotten about this part of her upkeep in the last year. And her first thought was, “Oh shit, I did NOT study for this test.”
And I think that is the point of retrogrades: these are the tests you did not study for. The homework you refused to complete. We hear most about retrogrades for Mercury, Venus, and Mars, the inner planets that closely interact with our daily lives. However, the planet in retrograde now is Pluto.
“Who’s Pluto? She’s not even a planet anymore. I don’t know her,” you may think to yourself, if you believe the nefarious anti-Plutonian media.* But I love our solar system’s little ice rock, and it is wise to pay attention to Pluto’s placement in your chart.
Much as the Death card in tarot is a symbol of seismic transformation, Pluto represents death and transformation in your chart. The littlest non-planet, out in the furthest depths of our solar neighborhood, brings with it cosmic energy from beyond our limits. Borderlands are notoriously magically charged (and reputationally somewhat wonky); turns out Pluto, at the edge of the sun’s pull, represents epoch-like shifts in both consciousness and reality for us little humans. Like how Gandalf rolled up in the hobbit village every 2 or 20 years, sometimes lit cool fireworks and jovially scared children, sometimes absconded with beloved citizens and brought them back deeply scarred by the world; you know, average magical grandpa stuff. That’s Pluto.
The tricky thing is that Pluto, the farthest planet, affects each of us in different, deeply personal ways. You could get way into astrology (I recommend it!), find Pluto in your chart, and try to guess which of your hatches need battening. The individual nature of this technique, and deep astrology theory that it requires, actually initially intimidated me at first about advising readers in any kind of general format.
Then I realized, hey, anybody who is reading this is already tuning in to their life’s patterns and signs. So, my official Plutonian advice is to reflect on your current tarot draws, your animal omens, your significant dreams, and ask yourself:
What is changing?
What is ending?
Am I fighting it? (Don’t.)
Simple feels best with the big things, dear hearts. I’m always around to throw a few cards. Watch the stars, watch yourselves, and thank you for being here.
*This is a joke, please don’t invite me to your Pluto Truther group.++
++Unless you’ve seriously uncovered a conspiracy about Pluto. You know what? I’m interested. I’ll read your pamphlet.
Thank you Allyson Gonzalez for our long artistic lady talks and goofy video shares.