On Winter, Retrogrades, & Vitality
Image: Edmund Dulac
The new year has quietly, softly, unfurled itself before us.
Winter brings her deep rich darkness to our windows and doorways, and her coterie consists of freezing ice breezes, endless days of damp rain, mute snow, and only fleeting glances from the sun. That we, as a culture, are encouraged to leap into January, new year’s resolutions blazing, is absurd. Look around—nature is fast asleep, restoring herself, knitting together her roots, gathering sustenance from the damp soil, working inwardly, and displaying very little on her cold exterior. Why should we, as emanations of the earth, do anything different? My friends, we should not.
January must be seen as what she is, as the sun moves through Capricorn and Aquarius—this is a Saturn-ruled time of year. Saturn is our lord of time, of boundaries, of iron-clad plans that manifest one small, sustainable step at a time. There is little fanfare in Saturn’s realm, at least none for the frivolous, ephemeral practices of randomly resolving to exercise more, or drink or online shop less. All Saturn cares about is that we’re taking clear, realistic steps towards our overall success. No rushing or pushing, only a slow drip of focused effort will do.
In winter, I love to think back to books I read as a child that were set in winter. Picture books with beautiful drawings of little animals living in snow-covered cozy homes, having tea by the fireplace. The feeling is slow, watchful, deliberate. I want to be there.
As we rushed through the holidays, I was found myself overwhelmed by expectations of the season, and slumped myself into New Years Eve feeling quite quiet, somber, and tired. Mars had been moving through my house of ‘routines, health, and service,’ making me feel wildly busy and yet still somehow unproductive, and Mercury was moving through my house of ‘self, persona, embodiment,’ themes around which questions curled like ivy, relentless, and tangled.
Many I’ve spoken with since the new year have reported to me a feeling of malaise, a low feeling of sadness, a lack of inspiration. And, because our experiences here on earth are a reflection of the vast movements of the cosmos, we have an astrological reason for that.
We did not begin 2023 on an astrological high note, but rather we opened this new chapter with two important planets, Mercury and Mars, both deep in their retrograde phase. Mars stationed retrograde on September 30th at 25° Gemini, and only went direct last week, on January 12th, finishing his retrograde at 8° Gemini. Mercury stationed retrograde on December 29th at 24° Capricorn, and finally, tomorrow, he stations direct at 8° in the sign of the sea-goat.
I write this to you not to now suddenly try to give you permission to throw yourself into things recklessly, or to unleash you to a state of manic productivity. I am writing this note to encourage you to keep in mind the slow feeling of the past couple of weeks, and reflect on what it has brought you. I’m sure that many of you reading this were unable to complete projects that you needed to tend to, or finish tasks within the home that were important at the time, or perhaps have failed to reach out to friends and family since the holidays. And that’s OK.
I invite you to contemplate what popped up as a result of that slowness. What else manifested, in the absence of normal activity? Were you able to tend to things perhaps more internal, more personal, less superficial? Were you able to have some tender conversations with yourself about boundaries, limitations, and the best way to tend your personal energy? Were you simply exhausted? If so, how did you care for yourself?
Reflecting on what emerges in the empty space left by Mars/Mercury retrograde, I bet you can connect some important dots for yourself, and use that wisdom to cultivate a gentler understanding of what winter life looks like.
As we weather the rest of January, February and March, the days will remain cold, but the light will grow. Do not forget this strange liminal time at the beginning of 2023. Use the sense of stillness you’ve likely encountered here to create a new definition of your winter-self, and protect and love that dark, quiet, stillness as best you can.
Want to learn to read your chart with ease, confidence, and an enchanted eye? I’d love to invite you to join my astrology immersion course, The Divine Art of Astrology, which begins February 15th!
