This morning at 5:50am PDT Mercury flipped from retrograde to direct motion. In the Sidereal zodiac, Mercury is currently positioned in the very beginning of the sign of Gemini—a sign that it rules. Over the next two weeks Mercury will move forward 9 degrees until it reaches the place where it started its retrograde on July 15th. This period is known as the “shadow period”, indicating that, although Mercury is no longer retrograde, it will not regain its normal luster as “Buddha”—the enlightened one—until mid-July. That means that we still have some integrating to do of the events that have transpired over the past three and a half weeks. Mercury has been sitting right on top of my ascendant for the past few days, so there’s no way I can ignore it. The sign that is coming up on the eastern horizon at the time of birth is the “rising sign.” The rising sign shows the exact location of the Earth relative to the heavens in the astrological chart. It represents the planet Earth in our chart, along with the characteristics of our physical incarnation and our activities in the material world. As Mercury retrogrades go, this was a big one for me. For the next 11 days Mercury will reside in Mrigashira Nakshatra and we will continue to be reviewing and sifting through our experience in the attempt to get clear about what things in life really provide us with fulfillment. On July 12th, the day of the next full moon, Mercury will move forward into Ardra Nakshatra, ruled by Rudra “the howler”, providing us with the opportunity for some emotional cleansing. The full moon could turn out to be a good night for howling. A little catharsis might be just what the doctor ordered to end Mercury’s shadow period and clear the air so that Buddha can shine brightly again with the light of intelligence and discernment.
Speaking of catharsis, the teacher training ended last Friday on an emotional note. My catharsis began on Thursday while I was reminiscing about Guruji. Apparently I have yet to work through all of my feelings regarding Guruji’s death five years ago, because I became quite emotional in the midst of telling stories. Still, I sputtered bravely onward and the students even encouraged me by bringing me tissues. As I became more and more emotional, many of the students began to crack open as well. It wasn’t that the stories were particularly sad—some of them were actually quite funny and filled with joy—but in the telling of them my heart opened wide and feelings came spilling out. We sang the Hanuman Chalisa afterwards, and since I needed one hand to play the keyboard of the harmonium and the other the pump the bellows, I was helpless to blanch the tears streaming out of my eyes and the snot running out of my nose. As it turned out, Thursday was just a prelude for Friday’s graduation ceremony, when all of the students had an opportunity to address the group. We almost had to send out for more Kleenex! It always amazes me how close these groups become in two weeks—we all fall in love with each other, and, at the end, everyone’s heart is wide open. At the conclusion of the training, we have an after party at Moonlight Beach because no one can stand the thought of leaving just yet. Sharing food and hugs and taking many photos, we milked those last hours together for all they were worth. Parting is, indeed, such sweet sorrow. I think I miss everyone terribly, but I’ve been too tired to notice.
Timji, This is Robin (aka Bad Robin) from the Tulum training in February and the Spokane workshop in May.
So much has happened since I last saw you. My ex-husband, my son's father, was killed in a climbing accident on June 19. He died at 10:45 in the morning -- his climbing partner Dave witnessed the fall, tried to save him, but was unable. Dave is shattered, as are we all, especially our son.
The night of his death I was practicing the Hanuman Chaleesa, and I was so moved, tears were streaming down my face. I had no idea he had died -- I didn't hear it until the next afternoon. It was such a moment of grace. And Krisha Das singing, "Calling out to hungry hearts, all across endless time, you who hunger, you who thirst, I offer you this heart of mine." It felt as if someone was speaking to me.
If you hadn't had us sing the Chaleesa every night during that week in Mexico, I wouldn't have paid attention, wouldn't have finally opened up to its beauty. So, thank you for that. And for so much more of course. But that for now.
With great respect and love,
Robin
Posted by: BadRobin | 07/04/2014 at 11:28 AM