The Boys Are Back In Town!

(cue Thin Lizzy music...)


I know, I just wrote a post yesterday after a hellaciously long break, and here I am posting again less than 24 hours later.


But this one is short, I promise.


Mars is back.


Mars went direct last night. After 13 weeks in retrograde, he's back from vacation, and ready to come off the bench. Back into the game. I felt it. BOOOM. Like a muscle-car in high idle dropping into gear, but without the clanky lurch. It just felt like IMPULSION brought on line. But with the emergency brake still on. A horse, bridled but aching to run.


Ahhhh....


And, my birthday is on Thursday (Thor's day...). So me, Mars, and Thor are gonna have one rip-roaring, high-energy, kick-some-ass kind of launch for -my- second half. I turn 51. 

I'll keep you...ahem...posted :-)

The Sound of Mars at Play

Find Him Playing in the Crashing Surf

Last week I wrote about Mars in Retrograde, drawing the conclusion that it's really the effect of "Mars on Holiday" that we're experiencing - the "absence" of Mars, in a way.

In December, I pondered Mars at Play, but didn't really have a good handle on what kind of experience that would be.

But as I was getting the low-down on Mars in Retrograde, I received an additional bit of illumination. I was listening to Psychologically Ultimate Seashore, a 60 minute recording of the surf, and I realized - "There he is! And he's PLAYING!"

Contemplating it for a moment, and feeling into it, I realized - the POWER in the crashing surf is rambunctious, carousing, adventurous, and COMPLETELY without conflict. It's actually basking and rolling and expressing itself in the gentle, loving, and life-affirming container that is the water.

So there he was, playing in the surf. Relaxing, laughing, enjoying himself. Restoring himself. 

Mars on Holiday.

Interestingly, I've been feeling the need recently to grab my wet suit and head up the coast to Linda Mar (Spanish for Cute Sea) to do some body surfing. The cold Pacific on my hands, feet, and face. The roiling waves. The crashing tumult in my ears. The taste of salt water. 

Sounds like it will get my blood pumping, and I'll feel invigorated and refreshed, without the least bit of conflict or stress.

"Ahhhhhh...!"

By the time night falls, I'll be ready for a deep, sound sleep.

Retrograde: Mars Takes a Holiday

Anger Erupts as Discipline Wanes

Last night I was doing some deep journey work and got a bit of a surprise. I wasn't thinking particularly about Mars, nor was I seeking guidance from him, but apparently, he had something to share.

I've written recently about Mars, and Mars at play. (I've still been contemplating Mars at play - I hadn't really discovered anything solid until last night. More on that in my next post.)

More topically, we've all been contemplating Mars in Retrograde. Mars went retrograde on January 24th, and will continue in retrograde until April 14th.

This astrological moment is described as very significant. I've read some information from a few sources, but the information hasn't really "met" me in a way I can use.

Here's what Mars taught me last night. It's a little different from what you'll find in the books.

Mars in retrograde is Mars on vacation, seeking restoration, relaxation, and play.

What does that mean for us? I perceive that when Mars is on vacation (or resting), that HIS warrior discipline is withdrawn from our lives. Which means that we must rely on our OWN warrior discipline.

Where and when (and how) does HIS warrior discipline affect us?

Imagine that there is a warrior song being sung by a virtuoso. It's always being sung, so whenever you need to hear it, it's there. Whenever you run close to the edge, nearly slipping out of warrior discipline, you can catch the strains of the song, consciously or unconsciously, and it can help you get back into trim.

That means we actually battle with each other LESS often, and work our internal battle more completely, when Mars is singing.

What happens when the song stops?

We see an eruption of undisciplined, destructive, testy, angry, aggressive behavior. That awful "remainder" I wrote about begins to foul the room, our auras, our relationships.

Mars helps us develop our warrior selves, and in so doing he helps us work through our weaknesses - our dishonesty and lack of discipline. What we don't work through, we tend to hide - from ourselves and others. 

When Mars is no longer there to help us be warriors, these tawdry characteristics suddenly spill forth, sometimes billowing, sometimes leaking, depending on how impeccable a warrior we have been.

A friend noted recently that she's seen (and her friends have also reported) an eruption of anger among their circles of friends, families, and acquaintances, starting a few days ago.

I perceive that it is precisely the result of Mars on Holiday.

Are you feeling more angry? A little less in control? A tad more helpless in the face of obstacles, and more inclined to rage against them?

Mars at Play

What does he do, when he's in play? What is play, or "Capital P" Play, for Mars?

Play, for Mars, might be a very competitive thing. But I think Capital P Play for Mars would be something for which there is no competition, no equivalent to winning or losing, victory, or loss. 

Rather, I think Play for Mars would be just the opposite - no downside. Because so much of his work is colored by the inherent notion of conflict, opposition, and the effort to vanquish the opposition, I think Play for Mars, the kind that leads to his own personal development and is also "Fun" would be loss-less adventure. Experimentation. Gaiety and laughing without inhibition. Silly joy.

I need to understand this guy better. Partly because I'm born under the sign of the Ram. Aries is part of my blueprint. But also because I haven't been a very active in play over the past many years, especially non-competitive play. And also because I think I'm missing an essential tool in the toolkit for surviving and evolving. For manifesting my dreams and visions. Play is something I need to learn, and, perhaps, need to teach. 

Or so the stars suggested to me tonight as I walked the dog out under the moonlight.

"Consider," they said, "Mars, at Play."

Mars, and the Remainder

I had a long and difficult conversation with Mars the other night.

All of us light-workers love to hate the God of War.

War. Really, who needs it? It sucks, it's pointless, it's cruel, causes suffering, wastes resources…WHY do we have it? Why do we need a GOD of it, for heaven's sake?

Wouldn't it be great if there were no wars? Wave your hand and have peace reign?

As usual, I don't get to have (or share) the easy platitudes. The introspection becomes so deep it's like surgery. Surgery while I'm awake.

Here's what happened:

So, I'm calling in the spirits, and after the four directions, I get to the compassionate spirits of the heavens. And for some reason, this time, I'm really taking my time and not just calling their names and asking for their help. I'm actually greeting each one as they arrive.

I call to the Sun, and the Moon, and start to work my way through the planets.

I get to Mars. And my nice, happy, deep, comforting journey work becomes something else.

I think this is really the first time I actually met him.

As he approached my space, I was shown the horrors of war. The suffering of the soldiers, but even more the suffering of "the innocents" who are caught up in it. Grist for the mill of war, ground into pulp of flesh and wails of suffering.

It was horrible. And there he stood, his sword pointed up, resting against his shoulder, one eyebrow slightly raised, looking at me expectantly. Waiting for something from me.

Testing me.

How could I welcome him? Why would anyone welcome him?

I reflected on my Celtic and Runic studies, the North, the Morrigan, the Calleach, the whole notion of battle rage. I checked in with as many angles as I could think of. It didn't fit. It wasn't complete enough to account for all that horror, pain, and suffering. All that scarring and soul-loss and senseless death.

He waited.

So I looked the only place left to look. At the horror. At the pain and suffering. I stared into the grinding maw as it consumed families, cultures, swathes of Mother Earth. I took in as much of it as I could stand, and then I took in more. It was the only place that made sense to look, and I knew I wouldn't understand unless I did.

It was horrible.

"What is this?!" I cried. "What is this…THING…that is so present and so insatiable and so seemingly unstoppable, and so cruel?!"

And he said, calmly but not comfortingly, "It's the remainder."

Auugh. It hit me like a punch in the gut.

The remainder of our lack of integrity.

The remainder of our lack of pure intention.

The remainder of our arrogance.

The remainder of our self-indulgence, our willful self-delusion, and our unwillingness to face the consequences of our actions.

War is the remainder of our personal, cultural, and societal choices not to speak the truth, not to keep our word, not to clean up after ourselves. And not to listen and accept the truth with a warrior's heart.

We have war, because we choose not to live like warriors. It's what happens when we sweep the inconsistencies of our logic and the entreaties of our conscience under the rug.

War is the remainder of our lies.

And the bigger the lie, and the more of us that engage in it, and the longer we tell it, the larger the account holding the remainder.

Inevitably it must be purged.

Mars is so often depicted as a war monger, always ready to start it up and roil the waters.

The Mars I met would say, "Go to war -- early and often!" Lance the boils, cleanse the wounds. Get it done as soon as possible.

In fact, he would counsel that we go to war in every single breath. Because then, we would each examine, reconcile, and exhale our remainders. There would be no account to be purged, because we would all be warriors, living impeccably in every moment.

But we don't. And so that account has to be managed.

Like Death, Mars has a difficult and dirty job. But unlike Death, Mars can rightly scold us for making his work harder. Death catches us all. Eventually, we either stop running from her or simply lose the race. Her embrace is, ultimately, gentle and compassionate.

But Mars -- he looks at us and growls, "WHY?!"

Why do we choose to ignore his counsel, and sentence ourselves to such horrors?

(He sometimes scowls at the other Gods and Goddesses, too, so comfortable and patient and didactic are they in their godding. "Things will work out," they counsel him. "Be patient. They're inherently good..."

To which he responds, "Do you guys ever WATCH this show?" )

This remainder I was shown is not optional, because we live in a world of challenge, complexity, and free will. How large the account becomes - that is indeed optional. It seems that arrogance and greed make it grow fastest. And self-indulgence. Ignorance and lack of personal discipline are also factors.

Fear of Death, too, if truth be told. But Death catches all of us, eventually, so why bother being afraid of it?

We should fear War more than Death.

I think living and dying as warriors is much better than living and dying in War.

The Mars I met would agree.