What are you doing at 528PM Pacific time, 828PM eastern, on Thursday evening?  Make it something beautiful, meaningful, and active, because whatever it is, you are going to be doing it for the next three months, and the results are going to be spectacular!

The new moon occurs in sidereal Aries to open a whole new dimension of activity, opportunity and great fun!  Aries is an active sign, a trailblazer, an explorer and pioneer.  This new moon will be launch time for a thousand new quests, games, great works!

There is nothing to hold us back now;  the malifics, Saturn the Lord of No! and Pluto, the underminer, are both retrograde and weakened.  Mars, the disruptor and crasher of every party, is on the suns’ leash, and can’t act out like he usually does.  We have a clear shot, completely unimpeded!

Best of all, jolly Jupiter is exactly thirty degrees from the new moon;  the semisextile will grant a big boon if we apply it now.  Think of it!!  The genie will grant us a wish, without the usual strings and catastrophes that follow in every fairy tale.

Be wise and alert, act now, and choose wisely!!

Time to spring into action!!!

The moon renews itself Wednesday at 235AM Pacific time in flippable Pisces. We are going to change our minds about something, something important and real and immediate. The plans we have made suddenly evaporate, unremembered and unmourned, or ignite spontaneously; but the Plans that include us spring into action!

The wisest among us will rise at midnight and gaze at the inky sky, feeling Change in it’s purest form swirl all around us. This is the time to meet God. We will be able to marvel over our change of heart, new view, fresh perspective, shortly after sunrise, as Mercury, the orb of the mind, remains in Pisces, coloring our thoughts with our feelings. We will be able to understand how we felt last month as opposed to how we feel now, and comprehend the process of how we changed our minds. A rare insight!

Venus stands poised at the karmic degree of 29 Pisces; if we have an emotional connection we wish to repair, strengthen or complete, now is our time to act. Connect with that person or that issue some time today and watch the affection and connection deepen. Venus then roars into feisty Aries, and we charge, head first, into all that is exciting and new and fresh, on Thursday.

On Friday, Mars will pause at the same karmic 29 degrees of Pisces, wondering if he should start Something, or finish the race with grace. Mars rules Aries, into which he leads the charge over the weekend!! All will be energized!

The sun will renew itself in the sign of the Spring Lamb on Sunday at 1036AM Pacific time.

Think of that!! Over the course of this week, our whole outlook changes for the better in ways we can’t even imagine now. We come out on top, smelling like a rose!

That’s Aries!

No doubt you have noticed the number of break ups, lay offs, BFFs never speaking to each other again, and hate mail piling up in the in-box.  This is Venus and Mars squaring each other.  Last week the difficulties occurred between shy Cancer and mild Libra, so we heard about the drama, rather than witnessing it.  This week the mayhem rears up from wild riding Scorpio and loud righteous Leo.  We will see it, hear it, shoot it and call 911 before the week is over.

Exacerbating this necessary roughness, the Harvest moon in Pisces looms above us on Saturday night.  Pisces is not only intensely emotional, it is a sign which remembers, stores away hidden events, secret deals, forgotten pacts, whispered vows.  As the square between Venus and Mars kicks into demonstrative signs, the drama takes on a life of it’s own, with real flesh and blood flowing.

The wise way to handle this breaking square is to look into that Pisces moon, the Harvest moon of September, and remember that the full moon is for harvesting.  We harvest what we have sown in our spiritual gardens, our souls, our environment of friends and associates and social network connections.  If we have sown discord, it’s going to be hell of a week!  If we are willing now to weed out animosity, betrayal, mind games, ulterior motivations, pull them right out of our agenda, we release a pure crystal light back into the heavens.  This light is too pure to attract bugs or wolves or vampires;  it is the indefinable Light sensed by the poets and quantum physicists.  This light can guide us to those realms where we long to dwell!! 

Francis of Assisi said it best.  Check him out!!

Summertime!!  The sun will glide against the smooth, comforting stars of Cancer at 718PM Pacific time Monday evening.  These assembled thousands of stars are a sheltering place for all kinds of good times!  During these first ten days, the sun is lost amid the lesser sheepfold, or Ursa Minor, the little cuddly, cute, dear Little Bear!!

     Our friend Mercury is also in Cancer;  this evening, at 715PM, he turns about retrograde against the Big Bear, Ursa Major, adjacent to Cancer on the belt of stars.  Wait, don’t wince!!  This retrograde is a great time to reconnect with women, and womens issues, most especially motherhood.  That Big Bear is a mother bear, and she is calling her all her cubs through the heart of the skies.

     If we have a broken connection with mom, with our heavenly Home, our true country, our daughter, or a women in our past, this is our signal to reach out and heal it.  Even death doesn’t stand in the way of eternal love!  If the veil separates us, remember we have Mercury reaching back through it with his silver wings!

     The Sunday prayer breakfasts seating accords itself to old comfortable custom.  Peter Lynch with his snow-white beard sits next to the youngest member of The Flock, a starry-eyed youngster with golden red curls and a tendency toward Sadducee legalism.

     ‘I note you are fasting before service,’ Jane Martin remarked to Colin MacGurk.  ‘You had cheese pizza for dinner on Friday, too.’

     ‘That’s out of line,’  Peter reproved her.  ‘And I am very concerned that you should be paying so close attention to such minutia, even to what others are eating.  It’s invasive in the extreme, besides being not your business.’

     ‘It is my business, I ask out of Christian duty and concern,’ replied an indignant Jane.

     ‘We are all concerned about a Papish trend,’ explained starry-eyed Peter J. of the golden red curls.  ‘Fish on Fridays and fasting before communion are works, and distinctly Papish.’

      ‘This discussion raged during Paul’s time,’ observed Jason Martin, Janes’ brother.  ‘It was decided then that meat sacrificed to idols could be eaten by good Christians, as they knew that the idols were a sheer fiction and didn’t really exist.  No harm can come from it.’

     ‘Unless it stumbles another believer,’ added Jane.

     ‘Does Colin’s cheese pizza really stumble you, Jane?’ asked Peter J., innocuously.

     Peter senior shook his great shaggy white head till his snowy beard avalanched.  ‘We have this same discussion every Lent,’ he sighed.

     ‘Any questionable activity must be brought up and discussed, ‘ objected Jane.  ‘It stumbles many impressionable people to see mature Christians acting in a superstitious manner.’

     ‘My moms pastor says that psychic sensitivity is of the devil, and is pure superstition anyway,’  offered Peter J.

     Jane Martin, no fan of the serious flaws of Fundamentalism, gave him the Scripture he wanted.  ‘James, the brother of Jesus, tells us in the book of his own name that we may not judge each other, most particularly in matters of faith.  James 4:11 and 12, make it clear that  no one may call us servants of the devil, of the world, or of the darkness, who does not say the same of himself.

     ‘Further, Jesus Himself told us specifically not to judge, but to love each other, as He loved us.  We don’t do that by calling each other nasty names and pretending we know better.’

     ‘So you are ok with my eating pizza on Friday after all, Jane?’ remarked the fasting Colin.

     ‘Sacrificing a pleasure will not earn you a place in heaven, Colin, nor will any earthly work.  I know faith without works is dead, but the works themselves are not the way Home.’

     ‘He is just imitating Christ,’ nodded the wise little Christian psychic Peter J.

All Saints

    Many of us feel a deep need to connect at this season; connect with the earth, with each other, and with the Otherworld.  There is an intense desire that will not be denied to validate the soul, and the souls of all who have gone before us on this planet, at this particular time of year.  This does not coincide with a celebration of any pagan holiday, or depend upon an orgiastic Samhain, or hinge on a satanic corruption;  or even a childs sugar high.  All Saints Day, and its preceding Eve, is as Christian as the local Baptist church, just much older!

     The first Christians made their connections with the souls of those martyred for the Faith on the anniversaries of the event.   As slaughtering Christians became quiet a popular pastime during Romans times, the calender became too short to contain the list.  Sadly, too, many brave families were martyred together, comprising entire church communities with no survivors who even remembered the names of the dead.

     Through Gods grace, the hearts and souls of the Romans were turned toward the Risen Lord Christ, and on May 13, 609 Year of the Lord Christ, a Roman pope, Boniface the fourth, dedicated a Roman temple as a Christian church in the name of  ‘St. Mary and All the Martyrs’.   Another Roman, Gregory the third, pointed out that November 1 , the date he dedicated a chapel in St. Peter’s Basilica to ‘All Saints’ was the more traditional date, as St. Peter was given the keys to heaven and earth.   October 31st 1517 saw Martin Luther posting his 95 theses on the doors of All Saints Church in Wittenburg, Germany, which launched Protestant Christianity in the name of Reformation.  November 1st is now Reformation Day all over the Christian world.       

     This history is well worth remembering and reconnecting as we ourselves face tumultuous, perilous times!

The Autumn Veil

     I raced up the sidewalk, resting my bicycle anyhow up against the wall of the church and stepped through the front door so fast I dropped my Book, sending notes and postcards and pictures within it whirling everywhere.  Quickly shoving everything back together I fell into the center pew, next to Sister Trumbull, who smiled indulgently at my whirligig entrance.

     ‘I had to swerve twice,’  I told her, ‘once to avoid a stagecoach, and once out of the way of a big sedan full of G-men.  They had guns sticking out.  I think they were after rum runners.  They looked like it was in the 1920’s.’

     Looking at Sister Trumbull, you don’t notice that her fashion sense reflects the year your mother was born;  you only see the peace and certainty of life in Gods kingdom radiating from her eyes.

     ‘It is certainly beginning,’ she agreed.  ‘We don’t notice because it’s unusually warm for autumn, but the veils between the worlds are rapidly evaporating.’

     ‘I notice several flocks of large geese, and quite a few dogs, as well as coyotes.’

     Kindhearted Sister Trumbull patted my hand comfortingly.  She regularly rescued all kinds of animals, living or dead, and made sure of their welfare in both worlds.  ‘We all have lots to do,’ she agreed.  ‘Remind me after service, I have a bag of birdseed for your mother.’

     ‘Sister Trumbull, I have never seen a T. Rex, or a Brontosaurus,’ I told her musingly.  ‘Not that I want to, but I see horses from a hundred years ago in town, and all kinds of furry spirits.  Why no dinosaurs?  It is that time of year.’

     ‘God wisely draws an impenetrable curtain across each scene of His creation story,’  she replied slowly.  ‘I know the wise men at the U-Dub think that birds are the descendants of the dinosaurs, like they went to sleep one night as triceratops and woke up chickadees.’  She smiled like the sunrise.  ‘Actually, we can never know what life and the world was like even as far back as the dinosaur days.  Strange vibrations produced colors we can not see, a much brighter sun looked smaller in a sky that was not blue, or even green;  the star patterns were unrecognizable.  And the great saurians were hardly clumsy grey scaled beasts.  Their skin was like a thick fluid, and iridescent, so that they shone in the sun like diamonds.  What a strange, utterly beautiful world it was then!’

     ‘Sister Trumbull, how old are you?’ I asked, a little alarmed.

     She laughed at my naiveté.  ‘Not that old!  We had studies of the ancient texts in my day, and we treasured them, I think, a bit more than people do now.  The descriptions of the Lost Worlds are in the Gnostic Scriptures, in the Book of Enoch, and in the Gospel of Adam.  We are told just what we must know about what was lost, and cautioned to keep our boundaries secure.  “Keep our own estate,” is how Scripture phrases it,  in order to keep our own world healthy and safe.  And this is the reason you won’t see the spirit of a dinosaur rambling through downtown;  even if you did, chances are, you wouldn’t recognize it for what it was.’

     ‘We are alive, yet we commune with those who are dead.’

     ‘There are none of us dead in Christ, dear,’ smiled wise Sister Trumbull.  ‘That is why we can see them and speak to them and hear them.  They are conscious of us, and pray for us, because we are all of the same Body.’ 

     What an utterly beautiful person she is!