March Is Aries

Just about everything that happens in March is taking place in the fire sign of Aries

You’re probably wondering about March. 

Well, March is so nuts that I’ve already stopped taking clients until mid-April because I am running for local office. March is like I can’t even get 800 words written about March by March 1st because in addition to launching a little political campaign, I have a new puppy. So every time I try to sit down and write, I have to get up and get something out of her mouth. And I really should be canvassing anyway. 

This, of course, is what the sky looks like too. There is a long list of big astrological events in March. I won’t get into a blow by blow because I don’t want to promote a tense, anticipatory relationship to a living universe that we are in a deeply interconnected, and I think a downright loving relationship with. I want these monthly snapshots to remind you that you’re part of this mystery, and that you are held by it. And because of that, everything is deeply okay. Especially when it is definitely, absolutely not. 

So, instead of making a list of all the big things, I’ll just say that almost all of them happen in the sign of Aries, the sign of beginnings. 

Babies

Initiations

Starting A Fire

Spring

Things You Dive Into Head First

The Way Life Bursts Forth

Rash Actions

First Strikes

Shooting First, Asking Questions Later

March is a loud, destructive whirlwind that could put you on a new path, or prompt action. Your role might be to receive all of this, so you might find yourself on your back foot. Like me, you might be finding that you’re not where you thought you’d be. You might be starting something new. Your life might feel more chaotic than usual. You might feel thrust onto a different path. You might feel caught in reaction mode. 

Sometimes when things get intense like this, I like to stop, get real still, and feel, rather than think about, the way my life mirrors, reflects, and connects with the lives around me. I like to feel the way we are all building one thing, together. The federal government here in the United States is a destructive whirlwind. That whirlwind is manifesting here in my college town life as Cornell University contracting into a fetal position. I am responding to that contraction, letting it put me on a new path. I ran a nonprofit for a long time, and have a good reputation as a creative leader who is good at turning a crisis into an opportunity to solve structural problems. So I am putting myself out there, knocking on doors, listening to my neighbors, gathering signatures, learning about what my community fears and wants. In other ways, my life looks less like a measured response, and more directly like the destructive, reactive whirlwind itself. I have new four-legged brown agent of chaos that I like to imagine as a cute, trainable replica of Elon Musk's incel minions. Her mouth is like a chainsaw, but she thankfully destroys pads of post-its and laundry baskets instead of federal agencies. 

I look around my life, and I see the fractal, deeply interconnected nature of reality. I also see the way symbols often describe both the problem and its solution. It struck me as I was taking the fifth dog walk of the day, before I go out and knock on some doors, that absolutely everything in my life is thrusting me out into a new kind of community. My neighborhood is a place I do not own, and cannot control. And what I find there, as I walk and knock and walk some more, is this immediate, primal connection with the folks around me. Folks who are scared. Folks who don’t want to open the door to me. Folks who can’t even afford to live in this kinda dumpy little town in Western New York. Folks who love puppies! Folks who really don’t want my dog pooping in their yard. Folks who hate everything about local politics. Folks who know more than I do about what the city is doing. And on and on. 

These encounters are messy and awkward. I spend a lot of time thrusting myself into other people’s space and asking them for help right now. That kind of interaction is nothing like posting on social media, or navigating the deep intimacy of my family, or the highly structured community of a martial arts dojo. These encounters are wild, and it is not my job to tame them. It is my job to ride them--to listen, and learn, and iteratively change what I do and say in response to what I hear because that’s how representative government works when you are representing less than two thousand people. And I have to say, all these hours of meeting people who want to pet my puppy, and nodding to all the other dog walkers, and then knocking on some doors, and then going home to get the dog and go out again… 

All of this putting myself out there is downright healing. I don’t know why yet, and I don’t want to turn my experience into a prescription for you or draw some other cute, facile conclusion. Astrology doesn’t work like that. But I can say that it is okay to submit to whatever this month pushes you into. You might look around your life and see the whirlwind manifesting directly, or see what it is pushing you into. You might be the pusher! Or you might feel like your role is to hold someone else who is getting pushed. However this looks in your life, it's okay to let it in, even if it is profoundly uncomfortable. Right now, in this rare, soft, quiet moment, with my puppy lying asleep by my side and my home quiet and everything the puppy chews piled up on a high shelf, I feel restless. I can’t wait to get out there in the cold, with my long underwear and my spreadsheet and my coat pocket full of black pens and palm cards and petitions. And I don’t even care if I win as much as I care about how this process of being in my neighborhood feels right. I am going out there because being vulnerable to my neighbors and offering help is what I need to do to survive this moment. 

What you need to do to survive this moment might be very different. But do take a quiet moment and listen for it. And let me know what you find.