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This Thursday, a new moon in Aquarius can clear out some room in your head. Where there once was a mess, where there once was a muddle, now there’s a clean quiet space full of air and light. From here, you can set a new course.
When you encounter a problem too dark to see into, too thick to unravel, it can feel natural to face it with fire. This week, though, it won’t be your power that gets you through these strange tight places. Try stepping back. Try listening to the voices around you, and feeling the vibrations in the street.
If you were to allow yourself to be less critical of yourself, it wouldn’t mean sacrificing your sharp sense of responsibility to the aching world. It’s just about allowing yourself to shift your mode of interacting with the world. You don’t have to keep measuring your progress, your productivity. Every person has their own shape, their own energy, their own music. You have yours too, wild and surprising and good.
Which of your dreams call out to you in the morning, and which sing to you at night? Which feel like they’ve been ground down over time? It’s so hard to be alive, and harder still to keep living. This is a week for recovering the wildness inside you that’s gone dormant to survive the winter. It’s a week for remembering your center, for remembering your bright heat.
You might feel yourself getting distracted, but this isn’t a week to try to force yourself into some kind of iron discipline. Try to lean in to your distractions for a while. Try to pay attention to each sound and each mood that pulls at you. Allow yourself to take the movements of your own mind seriously. Let your own surprises keep unfolding.
You do so much work to survive, and you give so love much to other people. It’d be easy to imagine you’re the only one who really cares, but you aren’t, and you don’t have to carry everyone you love on your shoulders. Your energy is bright, and you could use it to heat a whole house, to light a whole city, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Other people might surprise you, if you let them.
It can be hard to know when to close a door, and even harder just to know when you’re standing in a doorway at all. It’s not always easy to track the movements of your own life, to see the beginnings and endings as they happen. Even if your days just seem to blur into each other, even as your life feels flat or bleak, there’s magic and there’s change in the ground under your feet. What sorrow might be coming to an end? What joy might be waiting, just down the hall?
You’re so wise in the ways of other people; you’re able to see so clearly the stops and starts, the twists and changes in their lives. Remember that you don’t have to see yourself with that kind of sharpness. Your knowledge of yourself is made of a stranger, more delicate material. You have access to a deep dreamy magic, and sometimes it’s hard to know where the dreams end and where the solid world begins. But remember, clarity isn’t the only truth.
This week, somewhere deep in your own head, a curtain might part, or a shadow might lift, and you’ll be able to see all the love and splendor that still remains possible. It takes courage to believe in a future. It takes hard work to keep chasing a vision as beautiful as yours. Sometimes, the weight of the world presses down on you so hard that it takes all your strength just to stay alive, but this week you can let your imagination become broad again.
You’ve been alive long enough that you know yourself. You know what feats you’re capable of, and what weaknesses haunt you, and what sorrows could reduce you to dust. This is a week for looking at your own face in the mirror and daring to see yourself clearly. How will you know your own history? How will you learn to be kind to yourself?
It can feel so hard to feel like you’re making any progress, like the entire world is made of beginnings and middles without end. And still, in the middle of these vast plains, there are moments of surprise. Low hills rise up, and the sun sets orange and gold. Look over your shoulder and you’ll see how far you’ve come already. There are worse things than striking out into the world, again and again.
When everything you’re working on feels too complicated, try to return to some kind of beginning. You’ve built this tall tower, or you’ve reached this lush green canopy, but it’s good to return to the ground once in a while. It doesn’t mean you’re starting over, just that you’re remembering the basics of your body, your language, your melty blue thoughts. When you get overwhelmed, you can break down the complicated questions until their components are small enough to be held.
This week, you might feel a desire to turn some structure upside down, to turn a whole way of knowing on its head. It’s easy to mistake a desire for change for a destructive impulse, but the two aren’t always the same. Turning a thing upside down can be an act of gentleness, an act of generosity, a move toward a different way of seeing. You don’t have to be afraid of the oceans inside you. You can let the tides do their work.
Get Madame Clairevoyant every week.