Moon in Sagittarius-->Capricorn
/moon goes void-of-course at 2:34p PT | 5:34p ET | 10:34p UT
until it enters Capricorn at 4:48p PT | 7:48p ET | 12:48a(F) UT
I had not intended to use the degree-symbols for weeks, only for days, because they change daily; but have experimented with a weekly method which seems to highlight symbols which apply to a whole Saturday-through-Friday week. Here is an experimental approach to that for the current week. I recommend reading and pondering slowly, to let the symbols speak. Let me know what you think.
Week of January 26 through February 1
You are walking toward your goal in a foreign land, and out of the shadows you are jumped and mugged, surviving with your credit cards saved in your belt but no wallet. You spend a week getting back the papers you need for identity and travel. During that time you ponder the sky and magnificent white clouds, sitting in parks and squares, enjoying the gorgeous weather and the kindness of strangers who chat. Going to the hospital to take care of minor injury to your leg, you visit the children's ward and contribute some toys you picked up from a street vendor.
Back in the village square, some men nearby are wrangling about politics and nationalism, but no one is converting anyone else. When a farmer passes by with horse and cart, you envy his nonchalance and simple life of routine.
In the evening you walk past a canal in the moonlight. You seem to see a head separated from a body, and a hand separated from both, moving as if wanting to get back together but unable to coordinate. Without thinking you say to the invisible spirit of disjection, "Get your thoughts in order and the body will follow." He seems to try. The body parts, now dancing close together, move toward the arch in a ruined wall nearby. They enter the arch, disappear, and return, now put together into a whole man carrying a bow and arrow. He says, "My people are there on the other side and they applauded my reconstitution, then turned away. Here is something to help you as you helped me." You accept the proffered gifts.
You hear a woman in the distance pleading with the chief of her clan for the release of her imprisoned children. You lift the bow, insert the arrow, and aim at the chief; the arrow goes straight to his head but hovers in the air, dancing in his eyes and ears, persuading with the woman's voice, until he bows his head and relents. The woman's children are hers again.
You find a hotel, sit in your room and move pebbles, pens and papers in various directions on your desk until you seem to detect the next step in your peculiar journey. Have you been defeated by the strange turn of events? It doesn't seem to matter. Undrugged and sober, you examine colorful hieroglyphics appearing on the walls and know what they are suggesting. This trip is not over.
I fear the domination of an alien race and religion. How to defeat them without violence? A sword is given me, in a nimbus of light, and a voice tells me it is not for slaying but protecting. I am to prepare my men and women, peaceful army, for what needs to be done for their security, drilling them precisely.
I put on my belt with arms attached, ready to investigate the world and finish my mission. A bloody man is lying on the side of the street. He seems to be in the final moments of life. Two men on the other side of the road are fighting fiercely, ignoring the dying one. Beyond them a calm laborer is attacking a tree with an ax. He sings a song which sounds like a psalm or hymn. I take it up, sing with him, and the heavens open into a celestial choir room. The melody and harmony cascade into veneration for the One, their influence descending to the man bleeding and hardly breathing, until he revives. He sits up and looks toward the ruined wall with its arch, through which the now-reconstituted once-disjected man reappears. Together they bow toward the celestial choir, which withdraws into hidden spaces above--and silence.
You are a farmer plowing your field. You are patient and plodding, in no hurry, content. A young woman passes by, her hair dyed wild colors, her body covered with tattoos. Each keeps his opinion of the other to himself. A lonely tree in the field has been struck by lightning and is broken. Around it children in sunbonnets are playing. The colorful disorderly girl joins them. The lonely tree feels a tremor of interest in life. You slowly finish your work, ready to take your plow to the barn; you invite the young woman to come along, with your foster children. When you arrive at the homestead, a bluebird flies toward and stands at the door of the house chirping gaily, seeming to announce good fortune in store for all.
{Thursday; and Week of January 26(Sa)-February 1(F)}
Cosmic Piper
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