"Pluto has a fearsome reputation because the changes it brings are so deep and total. Pluto transits strip us to the core, where we rebuild on a foundation of something that feels real. The ultimate end game of Pluto is to dig out inner treasures and purge what's inauthentic, sometimes through a psychic death and rebirth. It the inside-out change from facing core fears and transforming wounds into greatest strengths."
In Capricorn, Pluto will change everything about our systems of power and control, how we do things, what life looks like. It will destroy and rebirth the very structure of our reality. Each of us will be experiencing this through the lens of a different 'House', which is determined by your natal (birth) chart. I'm experiencing this transit in my 12th house, which thoughtco.com describes this way:
"(In the 12th house) Pluto takes its light into the vast zones of the psyche usually veiled -- sometimes even to ourselves. Revelations become the norm, as what's been unconscious becomes conscious. A startling and miraculous time for wrapping up all the soul's loose ends, before Pluto begins another cycle. The past asks for forgiveness and understanding, altering the present. Emotional memories locked in the body are released, for tsunamis of healing."
STARTLING AND MIRACULOUS...TSUNAMIS OF HEALING.
Yep, I'll say. By way of tsunamis of pain and grief. And you know what? I'm kind of rocking it, for real. I keep waiting for an errant nervous breakdown to reveal itself and...it's all kind of....ok. And just to illustrate how Life will organize itself for your highest good when you allow it to, my sisters and I decided in May to do our annual Sister Healing Weekend in October in Sedona. So our meetup took place during Venus's Retrograde which for me was all about healing the very deepest layers of my childhood, the core wounding received by my very young self. As my sisters and I stepped into the vortex of Sedona to lay ourselves bare in order to be healed, the planets were holding exactly this for us. We allowed the land - and each another - to support, excavate and cleanse us. At one point we were meditating on huge rocks in a dry, vertical creek bed, where seasonal monsoon rivers wash down from the Red Rocks. We could feel the big water all around us, cleansing and purifying, stripping us of the stories of 'damage' and 'abuse', allowing us to feel the purity of our elemental selves. (You know how to do this, yes? Sit in a dry creek bed and tap in to the water? Sit in a burned-out field and tap into the fire? This reality we find ourselves in is spherical, and everything is happening right now. Our perception of linear time is simply a construct which we can supersede at will. So we can tap into that water because there is an angle of reality wherein it is right here, right now. We can tap in and allow that water to wash us clean. We can tap into that fire and allow ourselves to burn.)
Throughout the trip, so much was falling away, I felt like I was in a sort of trance, like a self-induced coma that allows the body to heal without the mind's input. When we went for massages, something told me to choose 'lymph drainage' even though I wasn't entirely sure what that was. And in walked the loveliest young man, who held and touched me so gently it broke my heart open. So much pain around rough handling at the hands of the masculine came forward to be healed, for myself and for the collective. It was incredible work. And then, on the way back to the airport, we stopped to see our parents in Phoenix. By parents I mean our dad and step-mother, who raised us. I don't see them often. My dad and I have never had an easy relationship and I've made peace with that. But this time was different. I kept my heart open despite it's knee-jerk reaction to close, and I saw my dad with new eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. I saw why he relates to me the way he does, how it somehow protects his heart, and why that's necessary for him. I saw how my contract with him is complete despite his life, his path, his karma - we are complete. No words to describe how good that feels, just a gut-deep sense of satisfaction at the end of an especially long and (ruthlessly) painful cycle. And of course Love is here too, born of pure Compassion.
During our visit my mom gave me a small plastic bag of drawings and cards that I had made for her and my dad from 1968-1974. My sisters and I went to live with them in '68, when I was five. It was the most unimaginable gift - first though pain and grief (what else?) as I could see my Little Jaclyn trying to somehow create a world that felt safe and connected. And then I was able to tap into my Little Me's innocence, something I have been trying to feel for years. And I finally broke through. I can feel her. (This is everything).
And then. Twelve people were killed in a shooting 5 miles from my house and fifteen hours later the Woolsey Fire started, which ultimately chased us from both houses over the course of twelve hours. I had a long stretch at the pyramid house, watching the fire burn along the western ridge of Malibu Canyon, marveling at it's awesome power and yes, beauty. I had a surreal moment of actually feeling the element of fire in all it's neutrality, its lack of intent, simply fire expressing itself in a very big way. It brought me to my knees in surrender to any and all outcomes. Something profound shifted inside me then, and I haven't fully unpacked it. Something about interacting with the elemental self as the earth, in Oneness, in balance and harmony regardless of appearance. After the fire I could feel the land in my body, and I felt burned too, laid bare, shorn of what was there before.
Through it all remains the through-line of my practice - yoga, mantra, meditation. Self-care. Bowing again and again to what is so. Keeping my heart open in every moment, bowing and opening. Saying Yes. Showing up. This life, no matter how fierce, is for us. If we allow it, we become Masters.
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