Get Madame Clairevoyant every week.
We’re in the middle of Mercury retrograde this week — the center of the forest, cool and green and deep. Though it may feel like you are, remember that you’re not lost. This place is unfamiliar, but there are paths underfoot and stars up ahead, and if you listen, you can hear a song to guide you.
The sign of a worthwhile endeavor isn’t a horizon that dips and bends, or a dark sky that fills with gold light, or a powerful enemy made humble. Don’t search so hard for the sweeping, cosmic magic that you miss the quiet chemical reaction that happens inside you, every time you’re brave, every time you stay true.
Every day you’re becoming more human; every day you’re learning how to live. This doesn’t mean you have to become perfect, or even better than you are. It’s just that you can feel yourself in motion, this week. You can feel your words becoming clearer and more true; you can feel your roots reaching ever deeper into the earth.
The moon’s path through the sky is knowable; the black night around it is not. The tides rise and fall to predictable rhythms; underwater, life blossoms in mysterious color. The known world is bright and good, but this is a week for the emotions that exist outside all the rules and the answers. You can be brave: You can let yourself feel desire without knowing what this hunger will bring.
There are so many things you know how to do, and so many ways you know how to live, and this week, think about the ones that come easiest to you. Living already requires so much struggle, so much work. There’s no virtue in making your own load heavier, just for the sake of it. What makes you feel electric? What makes you feel most alive?
This week, your mind might move faster than your body can follow. Your eyes might see farther than your feet can carry you. Change always moves more slowly than you want it to, and along bendier paths. This week, try not to force the world to speed up to match your desires. The frustrating thing is that magic takes so long to happen. The good thing is that it’s still possible after all.
If you work on a project with your hands, you might be able to let your buzzing mind rest. If your thoughts have gotten derailed, if they’ve stepped off the road into the woods, your body can lead you forward again when no amount of talking can. Your hands have their own wisdom; your shoulders, their own memories. Even when your mind is unsure, your legs can keep walking.
Sometimes, what feels at first like unbearable change is just a conversion, from one system of measurements to another. Sometimes, what feels at first like unbearable loss is just translation: a new language, the same poem. This week, there’s nothing that will break you, and there’s nothing that can stop you. This is a gift worth marveling at; this is light you can see by.
Sometimes, changing your mind can feel like an act of defeat, but this week, it’s a warm and astonishing gift. A person who once seemed like nobody at all can suddenly become dear to you. Heard under just the right sky, a song you once found boring can make you weep, make you believe. This doesn’t mean you need to hold your ideas any less tightly. It’s just that the world might pierce your certainty this week.
You don’t have to feel competitive with everyone else who breathes in your world, but it takes work, sometimes, to remember this. This week, how will you push back against the thoughts that make your chest feel tight? What kind of bright golden generosity could you allow yourself if you were brave?
Beginnings and ends are difficult, but the space between them is difficult in a longer, quieter way. Even as the nights grow shorter, it can still be hard to believe there will ever be anything but darkness. Pay attention to the small gifts and comforts the world offers this week. It can be hard to believe, unless you try, that real joy will still return, sweet and familiar and wiser than the last time it visited.
There are people in this world who will demand you become perfect, or who will ask you to force yourself into some unnatural shape, or who will ask you to remain completely still, quiet and unchanging, for the rest of your life. Remind yourself, this week, that you don’t have to obey. You’re still free, and you can move where you need. You can grow toward the sun, you can grow toward the moon. You can grow unevenly, wild and bright.
This week, the words that have always felt most comfortable in your mouth might falter. The thoughts that have always moved most easily through you might snag, suddenly, on new branches, new trees. This isn’t a bad thing: It’s a chance. You don’t have to feel the same feelings all through your whole long life. Your dreams change, like your body changes, like the world around you brightens, turns green. Growth is the challenge, and growth is the gift.