Get Madame Clairevoyant every week.
Tomorrow, Venus enters Gemini, and the whole sky sparkles overhead. This is a good week for being surprised, a good week for changing your mind. Sometimes beauty can anchor you to this world, and sometimes it reminds you how to dream again. Sometimes love can hold you, safe, in one place, and sometimes it reminds you how sweet motion can feel.
You can be full of your own surprising energy, fiery and alive, or you can always be right. You can be lifted by the power of your golden vision, or you can always speak correctly, with precision. There’s something luxurious in being wrong sometimes. This isn’t about being careless with other people, or about holding onto wrongness like it’s some kind of prize. It’s just that there’s something life-giving and lush in the feeling of accepting your wrongness, and then letting this knowledge change you.
A feeling of sinking deeper into yourself is different from a feeling of sinking deeper into the ground, just like the feeling of refusing to be moved from your own place is different from the feeling of being trapped, helpless, in the muck. It’s easy to imagine that freedom must always feel loose and easy, like floating in air, like a life without boundaries, without end. This week, though, is for a freedom that feels like solidity, the kind that lives in your earthly body.
This week, you might find yourself dreaming about cool water, or about kind words, or about soft cotton against your skin. This week, you might find yourself dreaming about a place where your body can rest, a place where your mind can finally, deeply, become still. What is all this desire made of, and where does it come from? It’s okay to do both at the same time — the thinking and the feeling, the wanting and the seeking.
This is a good week for cleaning some bad energy out of you, a good week for opening the windows and airing your space out. What thoughts can you choose not to hold anymore? Has your heart been strangled by some kind of greed, or some kind of fear, or some kind of jealousy? You can gently cut these vines away. There’s so much room inside you to feel, and you can tend to this space as you’d tend to a garden: tenderly, carefully, with one eye to the dirt and one to the sky.
This is a week for the miraculous discovery that even now, you have the power to change the atmosphere around you. There’s pressure from the air above, and there’s pressure from the ground underneath. There are wild forces already in motion, but something inside you is still strong enough to push back. You have the power to slow the world down and to look around you. You have the wisdom to decide which terms you’ll agree to, and which you’ll change.
Your curiosity is a sparkling strange gift, a sweet surprising magic, but just because it’s a joyful thing doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be treated with attention and care. How will you hone your good, sharp mind, and how will you clean it, and how will you use it? How will you know how to value all the things it can do? It sounds silly, maybe, it sounds trite, but your curiosity can be nurtured and grown as much as your kindness, as much as your relationships to other people.
This week’s gift to you is a sudden and total lack of any need to prove yourself. It’s difficult to feel free sometimes in a world so thorny and watchful, with so many rules and so many points of surveillance. This week, though, you can remember that you have nothing to prove. You don’t have to pay so much attention to the ways you’re known, the ways you’re seen. You’re alive, and your blood is moving. It’s enough right now to focus inward, on the work you’re already doing and the questions you’re already asking.
Remember, there’s no fear powerful enough to bind you. There’s no fear powerful enough to make you selfish, to make you greedy, to make you small. You can defend your home, you can defend your people, you can defend your own strange heart. If you’ve acted poorly, you can change. If you’ve acted in ways other than you’d like, you can find remedies. It’s difficult, but it’s easy, too, to keep growing toward the sun.
When it feels like springtime can’t come soon enough, it becomes easy to start wondering whether it will ever come. Or when you haven’t been seeing the outcomes you’re looking for, it becomes easy to wonder whether your struggle has had any purpose at all. This is a week to go easy on yourself if it’s been a slow season. It’s a week to remember all the work you’ve been doing, all the ways you’ve been trying to survive. None of this has been in vain. Sometimes the world just moves slowly.
This is a week for navigating distance, and a week for navigating closeness. How close will you draw to the flame that beckons to you, and how far can you bear to pull away? How close can you draw to the love you’re looking for? How far are you ready to depart from the ghosts that still call to you? There are maps of the whole world, but no maps that can chart these distances for you.
Your thoughts have been spinning, and they’ve been moving down strange dark paths. Your thoughts have been growing and maturing, though you might not have noticed it, because it’s hard to feel growth while it’s happening. It’s so hard to see unresolved change as anything but a hazard, a problem, a threat. This week, though, you might see your own life in a different way. The images can begin to grow sharp again. The morning fog can burn off with the sun, and you can remember what you came here for.
When you look around you, this week, you might be surprised at the things that once seemed strange but now seem soft and familiar. Over the past weeks, or over the past months, or over the past many years, how has this place changed you? How have you been made solid and real by the worlds you move through? How have you become anchored in the grays and golds of your own city? How will you bloom in the world, and how will the world bloom in you?