Happy New Moon in Gemini!
There’s a lot happening astrologically, which you can get an immediate sense of from the following image. Find Gemini ♊ on the left-hand side—do you see how much is clustered in that slice of sky? Wowza.
Like tarot cards, there’s more than one way to interpret this planetary stew pot, so today, we’re going to focus on one aspect in particular: the combo of Gemini (duality) + Venus (love).
We’ll look first at a writing example, and then a hostile text exchange I had with a family member.
When I finished the rough draft of my romance novel two years ago, I thought that after a little bit of tweaking I’d be done.
Fast forward, I don’t know, maybe twenty rounds of revisions? Only now do I feel as if the book is nearly ready for professional editing, but back in 2022, I was convinced the book was amazing as is.
A couple months ago, just for fun, I tried to read that earlier draft…
…and I couldn’t even make it to page three. This isn’t me throwing shade at myself—it was simply, how should I say…not good. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(So much love to my friend who read that ENTIRE draft and gave such supportive, encouraging feedback—you know who you are! 🤗)
There was no way to get to where I am now, though, without having written that earlier draft and all the other drafts in between.
At any given moment, we simply don’t know what we don’t know. This isn’t a personal failing—it’s just life.
Many of us, myself included, have inner parts who do not like this. Let’s call this inner part the Must Know part.
My Must Know part nearly broke out in cringe hives when I reread the first page of my draft. According to this part, it was a clear sign that I never should’ve tried writing fiction in the first place, because, as my family patterning claims, anything worth doing must be done perfectly the first time.
This sets up a bit of a pickle, though, because nothing can be done perfectly the first time ever.
Certainly not creative projects. And so long as my Must Know part remained unconscious, I’d find all manner of excuses to avoid my creative work, because I didn’t want to be confronted with the inconvenient truth of baked-in imperfection.
The Must Know part thinks that I should’ve known what I know about writing now, back then.
In hindsight, I can see how my Must Know part prevents me from learning new things, which is ironic. 🙃 Unconscious parts tend to be that way—they bring about the very thing they’re trying to avoid and/or prevent what they’re desperately in pursuit of.
My Must Know part was afraid that if I learned something new, this would contradict what I’d already done, rendering my previous efforts shameful. For instance, if I learned how to construct more compelling character arcs, this would “mean” my earlier character portrayals were garbage.
Pretty harsh, right?
Instead of an everything-is-iterative approach, according to my Must Know part, I am only granted permission to do my creative work if I can do it perfectly.
Let’s tie this in with Gemini + Venus.
♊ Gemini is a sign of duality. This duality can be an engine for growth and change, but it can also pull us into a fragmented, conflicted state.
The difference comes down to whether we can sit with the tension inherent in duality.
For Jung, the tension of opposites opened the door to the transcendent function, a vital source of new energy and growth in the psyche. When the ego boils things down to polar opposites, if we’re able to sit with this tension instead of rushing to choose, a third option, transcending the initial duality, can arise.
With the writing, for instance, my experience suggests that we need a pinch of both the wildly optimistic “This is a work of staggering GENIUS!” and “I dunno, maybe this is crap.”
The former can inspire us to sit down, day after day, to do the work, whereas the latter invites us to revise and refine, elevating the quality of our creations.
If I try to eradicate either, it’s a bit like dismantling a battery, and I can feel my psyche running out of writing steam. 😮💨
I’m also more likely to fly into a state of psychological inflation (“this book is the best thing that’s ever been written!!”) or depression (“this is the worst book to ever exist”) when I believe that I have to choose one side of the polarity and eradicate the other.
Neither extreme is conducive to leading a human-sized existence.
Let’s add a touch of Venus, shall we?
♀️ Venus infuses everything with love. It introduces beauty and harmony.
Can we invite this energy into our tenderest vulnerabilities, creating space for things we might otherwise wish to rid ourselves of, and instead, see if a creative harmony exists by sitting with discomfort?
For me, I experience this when I feel a deep love and respect for myself, even though I’m thoroughly human and thoroughly fallible.
When I love myself, even while I revise scenes that aren’t working.
When I show up to write, day after day, even when I know it won’t be perfect.
Over the years, self-love that doesn’t require perfection has helped rewrite so many family patterns to the point that expecting myself to be perfect now seems pretty silly. (Unless I haven’t slept well, in which case I have to take extra care of my Must Know part!)
This brings us to our second example: hostile family texts.
We’re going to start there tomorrow, before this turns into the world’s longest post. ⌛
See you then.
