Astrocreep: Anecdotal Eclipse of the Heart

Published  April 2014

Do you read other astrologers, my darling creepoids? It’s okay if you do. Just take a shower in between reading them and reading me, and always love me best. April is such a momentous month that some of my peers have sounded the alarms and concocted astral survival guides for this month. Where I diverge from my peers is that I tend to see all of human experience as one unending cacophonous crisis, rather than singling out specific months as especially ruinous. That said, I’ll still devote the bulk of these words to the dramatic solar and lunar events this month.

Though eclipses are among the more straightforward and widely understood astronomical phenomena, they still manage to caress our primeval parts, evoke an ancient awe––in the most basic, denotational sense of the word awe, inspiring a fearful regard—all while exacting subtle mischief on the cosmos and we specks.

Let us start with the moon, our divine mother, the empress of our unconscious.You know that singular terror that your mother can wield, even just as a name on your phone? Hey, or maybe your father. I’m not a normative-parent-enforcing astrologer. In fact, I think if there is a God, they are probable Genesis P-Orrige. The lunar eclipse this month impacts the patterns of our close relationships. Cyclical thoughts like “I am exhausted because I don’t eat well, but I don’t have energy to prepare food for myself ” will bite you in the ass. Cyclical or triangulated relationships also become an issue. Be aware of the motives behind your desires. For example, we often gossip about people in order to feel closer to them or to the people with whom we talk shit. To protect yourself this month, close loops and look at yourself carefully.

The solar eclipse preys on the megalomaniacal, on unchecked hubris. I’ll refrain from making grand predictions about geopolitical events, about the ministrations and power grabs of the ruling elite. Ms. Anthropy, ironically, is an astrologer for the people. Thus, my advice to the people is: take a long view. Situate unfolding events in the recent and distant past. Those who abuse power prey on amnesiacs. The period right before the eclipse, starting with Hitler’s birthday/ Ganjashana and ending with the solar eclipse, is a red zone for short fuses. Keep a cool head and remember, the branch that does not bend may break.


One of this astrologer’s favorite living musicians, Nina Nastasia, has a song named “You Her and Me” on her 2013 album Run to Ruin. The lyrics describe a tense gathering of three. The strained car ride of that terse, lovely tune is your headspace, and possibly your social reality, in April. The uncomfortable, unwanted “Other” presence crowding one of your closest relationships has accumulated grit and is chafing you. Right in the middle of the month, the lunar eclipse in Libra will lower the gavel on that tenuous, untenable situation. Heed my advice regarding the merit of flexibility in the Spring. It takes more effort to resist change than to go with it. That certainly doesn’t always mean that inertia is better. But as a social standoff in your life comes to a head, and then to a close, remember this, whether you are struggling to hold on or to let go: there is some small part of you that remains constant through all you undergo. Visualize it as an anchor, visualize it as a prism. Visualize it as a treasure chest, if you have the stomach. You collect experiences. If you wish to repeat any of them, you have the tools to do that right with you.


I don’t mean to alarm you, Taurus, but your Venus is in Uranus. Just kidding! Consider that quip your birthday present from me. As you turn a year older, you confront new parts of yourself. Your handwriting may start to look more like the penmanship of an ancestor. What about that ancestor do you wish to emulate? What about that ancestor scares you the most? The most effective change is achieved by making small movements, and that’s what feels most natural to you too. Go with that urge, and though I’m asking you to think about somewhat daunting material, all I am really asking you to do with those thoughts is consider them. No action. But speaking of action, freaky action, your desires by the end of the month might surprise you. It’s sound general wisdom, but for you it’s particularly salient: when you become a stranger to yourself, ask your friends to tell you who you are, and believe them.


If April were a game of Clue, here’s how it would go down. During the first eclipse you find out what the murder weapon was. Drano in an Abita? It’s not what you expected, but be truly canny and seek the hand that held it. Just as you finish processing the instrument of destruction or injury, toward the end of the month, more is revealed. By the second eclipse you know who did it, with what, and where. You can be witty and detached, Gemini, and I know what you’re thinking: “Okay, Chief, take ‘em away. I’m gonna go home and sleep with my wife.” But April is a slippery month. There are no guarantees that your wife is alive, or that the Chief won’t be behind bars.


You know that sudden, faraway look on the face of the dog who hears the mailman down the street? The cat who puffs out the tail and crawls under the bed before you even know it’s storming? The panic on Princess Leia’s tiny, holographic face right as the transmission abruptly shuts off ? You exist in that inherently isolating state of alert this month, Cancer. April may be lonely for you. Even if you never sleep alone, even if you’re always picked first for kickball, you’ll be locked in to a private emergent reality. During the lunar eclipse, a feminine ancestor spirit has a message for you. During the solar eclipse, distractions fall away so you can finish deciphering that message. That’s my kind way of saying you might shed a few friends. It’s dead weight, moonchild. I have a dear Cancer friend whose magnetism can draw suitors across continents. You’d never know it though, from the depth of the pain he performs. But he has a bumper sticker that belies his malaise: “Don’t take life too seriously. It’s not permanent.”


If you have any travel plans that you expect to unfold around the time of your birthday, you should firm them up in advance of the lunar eclipse if you can. Though you have charm and discipline in spades, neither will help you out when you’re staring down the barrel of horribly inflated airfare expenses. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but do take a moment to look down the road a bit in that regard. For now, around the house and at the office you have been honoring your astral mascot by doing the lion’s share of the work. Even your creative endeavors and hobbies can feel more like a job sometimes. Around the solar eclipse you might have to cover someone else’s ass, leading to an even more increased workload. Prepare for a scramble. Luckily, just like a cat, you have a way of landing on your feet with style, if not grace.


Are you feeling, like, totally lunar or what? If you’ve been feeling especially inwardly reflective and moody lately, settle in, batten the hatches, and make yourself comfortable. Around the actual lunar eclipse, you need to keep an eye on the ways in which you provide for yourself materially: the financial hustle and all the kinship ties that keep the roof over your head, whether they are romantic or familial. Around the solar eclipse, your calculating Virgan mind is overwhelmed with data. You may feel too frazzled to figure out what’s important and what are red herrings. Relationships of any kind that involve geographical distance come into the spotlight at the end of the month. Try to talk it out and try not to talk in circles.


Were you paying attention to my prologue, Libra? You will be tested on it later. What I didn’t share with the whole class is that the lunar eclipse is in your sign. Events around the lunar eclipse appear designed as though to test your specific skill set. Your ability to suss out character and intention come into sharp focus, as does your diplomacy. Keep an eye on that particular of your many sterling qualities. A situation that’s quietly bubbling with a champagne effervescence may erupt into a boil around the solar eclipse at the end of the month. The arena to watch, and tend carefully in preparation, is that of long-term health issues. Check your junk mail pile, which may constitute the totality of your snail mail existence, for postcards reminding you to check up on your dental health. To maintain your mental health, read famous speeches and correspondences from famous Libra diplomats, like Usher—“Burn,” for example.


I know you’ve got a little life in you yet, spooky baby. I know you’ve got a lot of strength left. Kate Bush could very well have written “This Woman’s Work” about your 2014 springtime, Scorpio. April is a continuation of some of the ongoing wordless conversations you have within yourself, the re- arbitration of an unsteady internal truce. You may bear some bruises from a recent confrontation with your inner underworld, but during the solar eclipse you get to be the calm and rational one, particularly in a relationship that tends to veer toward the other direction. If you have a lover or close collaborator on whose sleeves you are always tugging for attention or affection, notice that the tables are turning. Resist the urge to rub it in. Instead, try to observe what caused that shift, in case you would like to recreate those circumstances again. It’s not being manipulative. You’re just a realist. I know.


No matter where you feel you fall on the introvert/extrovert spectrum (yes, it is a spectrum, and yes, there are introverted Sagittarians), you rely on and love your friends with a special ease. That’s why you can be so uncharacteristically sensitive, so easily wounded by their occasional thoughtlessness. During or around the lunar eclipse, your pride may get hurt by the callousness of your friends. Lick your wounds and take care not to lash out. It probably isn’t about you and isn’t personal, even if it feels that way. Around the time of the solar eclipse you are like a cartoon character running out of cliff to run on, scampering over air—look out! Have you been sleeping and eating? Are you running on empty? You need to fuel up to level up. You can’t run on fumes for long, and there hasn’t yet been a catalytic converter that can allow you to motor on the sheer power of tactlessness and impulsivity alone.


Do you have any dependents? You answered that for your taxes, due on the same day as the lunar eclipse, and for you that’s what this lunar event concerns: those who rely on the fruits of your labor, whether they reside under your roof or just your coattails. Most of your life events in April, Capricorn, will relate back to the mundanities reported in your taxes: your work, your family, where you live, and other such foundational drudgery. Finally, at the close of April, the solar eclipse happens (don’t look directly at it though, gentle goat). It will feel like the new year has finally started for you, like you got all the shit of 2013 out of the way and you can get into the zone. Did you know Joan of Arc was a Capricorn? Well, yes, that’s the consensus anyway. Capricorn, you’ll be right at home in waning April’s astral ambiance. Like Joan, you may utter amongst the fervor of battle: “I am not afraid; I was born to do this.”


My dear visionary Aquarius, I have some very unshocking news for you. In April, I predict you will fail to be able to please all the people all of the time. That reality may bring out the grouch lurking beneath your universal humanist exterior. Sometimes you’re ugly, hoss. We all are. You are one of the signs that have a real skill in seeing the big picture. This month, there is a gift waiting for you in the long view. If friends dis or dismiss you, if you feel the fatigue of being overworked but underpaid, zoom out and see what machinery your woes correspond to. There will be wisdom in this vision, and maybe even action, if you can get up the nerve. In advance of the solar eclipse, deal with any pesky recurring issues associated with your home life, so that you can focus on more interesting arenas in the months to come.


The least surprising fact I’ve heard all year is that Grimes is a Pisces. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something fishy about her eerie aesthetic blend of grunge, anime, sleaze, and Enya. Your uniqueness is what people love and hate about you, Pisces, and it’s why you get so deeply embedded under the skin of that latter group. Because you think about things so differently than most people, you don’t always challenge your deeply held beliefs. I know you think you do. Hear me out. This month, come down to earth to deal with mundanities. If friends or lovers have a gripe with you that feels irrelevant and petty, give them the benefit of the doubt. Pause. You’re a visionary. It’s what we all love about you. But sometimes the world is one step behind your appreciation of Brooke Candy. Wait for us to catch up, Grimes.

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