time is money: an aries eclipse story

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The Total Solar Eclipse will be exact at 19* of Aries on Monday, April 8th at 2:20pm Eastern. 

The sun and moon are co-present with Mercury (which is retrograde) and Venus, and the eclipse will be exactly conjunct minor planet Chiron (often called “the wounded healer”). This eclipse ushers in the need for radical authenticity in our values and communication, highlighting the importance of found family and community. In this, it’s disruptive to the isolated genius in the tower narrative that western culture is so fond of. Get ready to clear out narratives and practices that suck up energy without filling our tank. This week will clarify resources that are available to us, and how, exactly, we’re spending them. 

One of our most valuable resources is, of course, time. Astrology itself is the observation of the quality of time, as I wrote for the Libra eclipse two weeks ago. And oh, am I feeling that right now. The way that time has value. The way that time spent cannot be gotten back. The priorities in a life that organize who and what gets time. 

In talking about my book proposal coaching, lots of folks have told me that they simply don’t have the time for writing. And whew: not having time for creative work is relatable. I never feel as if I have enough time, myself. (Because what, exactly, would be enough?) The responsibilities of life creep in: the dishes need to get done, the laundry needs to get taken to the laundromat. Chronic illness makes good work days unpredictable. Right now, I am trying to write this as Sesame Street is on in the background, my three-year-old nibling requesting “counting with Abby Dabby” over and over and over again. 

Time is precious, an irreplaceable resource that is ever slipping away from us. April is the cruellest month, indeed.* 

And eclipses are the greatest — and, sometimes, cruelest — teachers of Time. They reflect to us our own limitations and, perhaps less obviously, our possibilities. 

In the interest of recognizing those limitations and possibilities, I’m breaking a lot of my own eclipse rules right now.

First, the obvious: Meg and I are traveling in New England for the week visiting friend-family. It’s the best time that worked for everyone, and I care far more about seeing my chosen family than I do not traveling during Mercury Rx and eclipse season. And second: I’m in the middle of several launches, including the next session of Showing Up to the Work and an entire suite of book proposal editing and coaching services. 

Perhaps my most consistent eclipse advice over the years has been that you can’t let the astro-weather get in the way of living your life. Sometimes, you just have to do things in spite of the sky and appreciate astrology for what it is: a weather report that informs how you go about your day. Doing big things as mindfully as possible during eclipse season is like deciding to put on your raincoat and take an umbrella outside because it’s raining rather than seeing that there’s rain and going, okay, well I just have to stay inside until it's over. 

Working with astrology is, more often than not, about making an informed decision about how to function in less than ideal conditions. Because it’s raining, maybe you go slower on the road than you would otherwise. You don’t get to your destination as quickly or easily as you’d envisioned. There might be some near-misses on the road. But you still get there. 

I am trying to trust in this core practice of mine right now. The fact is, I’m launching because it’s more famine than feast in the self-employed world, and my back is up against the wall to the point that I simply cannot afford to not launch during eclipse season. (If you’ve been on the fence about signing up for one of my upcoming classes or containers, or for going paid on this newsletter, know that it will have a very tangible, felt impact on my life.) 

I’m also working on several book projects, one of which is a book proposal I am desperately trying to finish so my agent and I can go out on submission. But I am trying to operate in integrity and respect my work and creative flow. While I know that opening my books for 1:1 astrology readings is the easiest way to fill my bank account, it’s also the easiest way to crater my schedule and tank myself emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. 

If I open my schedule book for readings, I won’t have enough energy for my actual books. And the actual books demand attention. They are writhing spirits, trying to be born into the world, kicking against my stomach whenever I try to hush them and tell them not now. Wait. The work inside me is very, very done waiting. But, I remind them, I am a corporeal being in a corporeal world that requires tending — and the money for housing, for food, for small treats. 

The relationship between time and money, and money and art, and time and art has never been clearer to me. Right now, I am just trying to buy time to write. (Is it obvious that this Aries eclipse is landing in my 3rd house of daily life and sacred routines? That Mars and Saturn are colliding in my 2nd house of personal finances and resources of value?) 

My problem is often the reverse of my clients’: they have the money to pay me to hold them accountable with writing time (whether input or output), whereas I struggle to get paid so that I can afford more time to write — the single thing I would always rather be doing. 

I take heart that this eclipse is sitting with Chiron, the unconventional healer. Abandoned by his parents, Chiron was a centaur adopted by the god Apollo (and also his cool gay aunt, Artemis), who taught him medicine and healing, astrology and prophecy. Chiron went on to adopt and teach the Lost Boys of Greek mythology, to the point that other gods would bring him their children to raise. (The great healer Asclepius, for example, was Chiron’s adopted son, saved from death in a story perhaps best told another time.)

When I see Chiron aspected prominently in a lunation, this is what I think of: that we are, none of us, an island, no matter our origin or birth. We are profoundly interconnected. Community is a practice. And weirdos find each other. In this, the eclipse becomes less lonely. We are excising what does not work and welcoming in new habits, but we do not have to do it alone.

I’m gonna be real: I wondered about whether to send this. There comes a point where honesty is not necessarily helpful. It is something I perpetually struggle with in the astrology for writers Discord, how vulnerable to be about struggles with self-employment. I never want to come off as self-righteous or, alternately, as overly needy. I also know that we are not in control of how others perceive us.

But I have learned that it is better to go out in the rain than to hide away inside.

That a rising tide lifts all boats.

That none of us are truly alone. That we are, all of us, better together.

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* = “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot

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