Post eclipsia can be overwhelming at the very best of times. So much fast paced change, all those heartquakes and headphoons and a finish line that resembles virtually nothing familiar. Tis a lot to choke down, let alone to do so underwater. Cue Pisces season to switch us from stewing to marination.
As one for whom all the gushy feels is nothing like a natural state, I find the onslaught of Pisces often hits like a tsunami – no matter how fast I have run for the hills at the first sign of the tide drawing out. I crave the signposted dreams and shamanic insight but all too frequently spend the early days flat on my back in puddles.
If I have learned anything at all it is to surrender to how I feel rather than let my head bolt towards how I would *prefer* to feel, the thinking woman’s greatest delusion. Tis the season after all, darklings. No matter what we tell ourselves nor how frequently we think it through, our feelings are not negotiable. They rarely bend to euphemism and abhor disregard. They will dig deeper, kick harder and win.
How we feel is simply who and how we are, neither aspirational nor ignorant. It is just that and all that and is denied at our peril. Yet it remains ever a path that feeds intuition as a ready guide to life.
Our feelings are a heart shaped map designed to be read and followed to the letter, even if we are only a nostril from drowning. And if any one sign can teach us that, it is dear Pisces. Prepare to be schooled in the current (and possibly reformed) anatomy of your hummingbird heart. There is always more to learn from our beating drum.
I must be a mermaid. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.
~ Anais Nin, Piscean extraodinaire
Words © Kerrie Basha, 2018