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On Thursday, the sun enters Taurus, and you can feel the world, slowly, grow lush and alive again. Can you smell the ground as it softens? Can you hear the seeds taking root underground? It isn’t that this is a season for stillness, exactly, but there’s a shift in tempo, a slackening, an easing of whatever urgency has held you tight.
This week, you can let the earth’s gravity pull at you, or you can let your thoughts grow lush and quiet. You don’t always have to be the one to make everything happen; you don’t have to spin the world like a ball on the tip of your finger. Sometimes the world blooms when you least expect it, when you don’t take any action at all.
This week can offer you a return to what is familiar; this week can offer you a return to solid ground. After what feels like a lifetime of spinning, a lifetime of running, a lifetime of racing to catch up, you can return to your best self. After what feels like a lifetime of strange separation, you can recognize your own sweet face when you look in the mirror. Don’t underestimate the sweetness or the value in this recognition.
Even the people who love you best can’t always see your fullest self, and sometimes your bright steadfastness gets ignored. Sometimes your strange shimmering loyalty gets forgotten in all the noise. Being misunderstood can hurt like a headache, it can hurt like a bruise, it can hurt like an old pain that’s always lived in your body. This week, you might be offered the chance to surprise somebody into seeing you more clearly. Take it.
It’s okay, sometimes, to tire of facing the world with this much courage. Pay attention to the hunger you feel in your body, and recognize it as your own. Your needs are real, and they’re as solid as anything else. This doesn’t mean they’re the only force in the world, and it doesn’t mean they’ll rule you forever, but you can grant your body water when it needs to drink; you can grant your body comfort when it needs to sleep.
You might feel like you’re stuck waiting for the good green springtime to come, waiting for the trees to blossom, waiting for the seeds on your windowsill to sprout. You might feel like you’re waiting, even now, for the birds to sing you back to life. So much waiting can feel strange, but it doesn’t need to feel bad. You haven’t become a passive observer to your own life. You’re just creating space for your ideas to blossom inside you, and for the world to blossom around you.
When you’re on a path as long as this one, it’s hard to tell how far you’ve come. When the road stretches out so far ahead of you, and the mountains loom so far in the distance, it’s hard to tell how quickly you’re moving. This week, don’t look to anyone else for validation that you’re moving in the right direction. No one else can give you what you need. It’s better, for now, just have to trust your own sweet stubbornness.
There are weeks for accepting every wild offer that comes your way, but eventually your life buckles under the weight of so much action, so many jobs to do, so many people to see. This is a week to stop filling your brain with noise, to stop crowding your days with waste, to stop accepting less than you really care about and less than you really need.
Maybe you’ve been feeling undervalued, or underappreciated, or unseen by the ones who should see you best. A feeling like this can grab you out of nowhere, can swoop fast and surprising out of a sweet blue sky. A feeling like this requires no reason, no sense, so don’t worry too much about trying so hard to explain it. You don’t have to track a bad feeling’s whole lineage before you can fight against it.
There are different kinds of loneliness that come with different kinds of seasons, and they cycle, they turn, they bury themselves and then reappear with different voices, different shapes. The best way to combat this week’s loneliness might be to spend some time alone — you can remember the particular sweetness of living in your own body, and you can remember the particular sweetness of inhabiting your own wild mind.
It becomes so tiring, in the end, to constantly be learning to see. It becomes so tiring in the end, to constantly fight for new brave ways to live. But you don’t always have to be a visionary, you don’t always have to look to the future. You have your own body, you have your own skin, you have your own known world. This week, it’s okay to relax into the earth you’ve been given. It’s okay to focus on the world as it exists right now.
It’s always frustrating, it’s always painful, to run up against the limits of your own powers. Your mind is bright and sharp, and in your dreams your vision is perfectly clear, but down here on land, your body is small against the wild world. This week, you can be brave enough to look into the face of all that you can’t control. There’s an underlying rhythm, and underlying song, an underlying love supporting everything you do. Your powers aren’t everything, but they are enough.
This might be a week for small tasks, for organizing your bookshelves, for dusting and sweeping and polishing. This might be a week for gently tidying up the inside of your head. You don’t have to let every fear and every worry take up equal space. You don’t have to let the clutter slide and expand until there’s no space to move. It’s about making room to think thoughts that belong to you, not somebody else. It’s about clearing space enough for the sunlight to shine through, for the wild life to burst forth.
Get Madame Clairevoyant every week.