June 12, we have the occasion to fall asleep in a car on the highway during a torrential rainstorm as the moon becomes bedfellows with Mars & Neptune. Those bellicose warriors carry us onward on the turbulent waters in our modern-day vessels or our confined bodies, yearning for the ancients, searching for heroic points of orientation to yield to the hawkishness and to the intoxicating inspirations.
A grim reaper with an axe, or a scythe, draws a circle in the dirt in our dreams, surrounded by mice drinking liquor out of glass bottles they carry on their backs.
Becoming aware of the collective burdens faced by entire swaths of the human species calls for a death, and a dissolving of over-coagulated pride that has kept us stuck for generations. These moods, these dreams, these demands to be both drunk and sober, and the weight we all must carry on our backs, these are the waters of Neptune the greatly-feared, on which we must sail, tread, and swim.
Our burdens dissolve into fragmented parts, and with our hearts, we listen.