Tipping points have to arrive, and if you haven’t had yours over the last few days,
it may well be coming up.
Toy with emotions at your peril. Try not to make a mess.
Emotional, career, or family related news.
Right down to the bone.
Sun square Pluto, Mars square Jupiter
Today through Sunday calls for self control.
The Moon is about to tip over to Capricorn,
if you can’t be self-possessed and strategic now, well,
you may wish that you could.
Cuts are deep and voices are amplified. It’s not simple, you will have to act under compromise.
Mercury in Libra offers, not an olive branch, more like a laced cup of coffee.
-you will do as I say-
There is a sincerity to it tho, mostly because we are all desperate,
there is a raw uncovered quality to the proceedings even as the subtext, or roofied coffee slips in.
People do or say the things they do, because of real needs and feelings.
The underpinnings may be complex, but the choices are simple.
No no, is it the other way? The underpinnings are simple, but the choices are complex?
Watch as words and thoughts invert and split and reform.
It’s a Mercury in Libra thing.
So too is someone saying you are selfish, hungry, defensive, or whatever because they are.
Go ahead and let someone take credit for your idea, but only if that is the ticket to where you want to go.
Selfless and selfish swap and reform like amoeba
Generosity in the form of patience is a solid move, as is a kind word,
as long as you don’t hold your breath for a kind word back.
To remember: power is a gift, and right now restraint is the high priestess of power.
That doesn’t mean do nothing.
It means be aware of what you do.
Strong feelings demand recovery time, if you can take that it may serve you well,
and if you can not, listen and breathe.
by – David Levithan
from The Lover’s Dictionary
~ elegy, n.
“Your grandfather dies a few months after we move in together. There is no question that I will go with you, but there are plenty of questions when we get to the funeral. I know you haven’t slept. I know you’ve spent the night on the computer, trying to pin down what you feel. I know why you didn’t accept my offer to help, just as you know why I felt I had to offer it anyway. On the car ride down, you practice what you’re going to say. You use the word confliction when you really should just say conflict, and you use the word remarkability, which I’m not sure is even a word. But I don’t say a thing – I just listen to you say them over and over again, because they are what you need to say.
Then we get there, and the first words out of your mother’s mouth are “Nobody’s speaking at the service.” That, more than anything else, throws you off, makes it seem like you’ve been bequeathed a bad patch of gravity. I’m bombarded from all sides – most people don’t know my name, and nobody knows what to call me in relation to you. Something more than a boyfriend, something less than a spouse. I met your grandfather once, and he was nice to me. That’s what I can contribute – that I met your grandfather once, and that he was nice to me.
Something happens to us that day. It’s there during the service, when you don’t let go of my hand. It’s there back at your mother’s house, where we retreat to your childhood bedroom and go through your old chest of drawers, where we find stale jellybeans and notes from high school you hadn’t wanted your mother to unearth. It’s there when your mother bursts into tears after most of the guests have gone, and I don’t need you to say a word to know I am not to leave the room until you’re leaving it with me. We have fallen through the surface of want and are deep in the trenches of need.
That night, driving home, I ask you to tell me stories about your grandfather, and as we travel farther and farther from your mother’s house and closer and closer to our own apartment, you unspool the memories and turn them into words. From behind the wheel, I learn the difference between a eulogy and an elegy, and discover which is more vital, in life and in death.” ~