THE SOCIAL MEDIA response to Corona has made one thing clear: Ego prefers dark certainty to a neutral unknown. The shadowy intrigue of Pluto is far more compelling than Saturn’s bare bones here/nowness. Why is this? Perhaps because Saturn is the lantern-carrying monk who wanders the aftermath of atomic Pluto. Not as sexy as dropping the bomb.
Through Saturn’s eyes, not much has changed. The dying world continues to die, dutifully flushing up the primal fear beneath our imagined faith in life; prodding us to re-inhabit the sober, slowed-down lucidity of who we are so we can be constructively wounded and endure the beautifully corrosive process of self-inquiry.
When will all this be over? When “naked seeing” could care less.
Pinch yourself, if you have to. You are now at the epicenter of one of the most ego-purifying transits a soul could sign up for: the Saturn/Pluto conjunction of 2020. It is not your average, recoverable, “hard” transit! This is deathbed training and the sooner you say “yes” to the lines it etches in your face, the sooner you get grandparent enough to stroke the head of that tormented inner orphan (ego), until it is revealed as a mere habit of mind.
Death-around-the-corner-ness
Imagine showing up slobbering drunk at a funeral. Can you think of anything more disrespectful?
Now imagine showing up drunk at your own funeral. That’s what we do when we stumble into bed, drunk tired. This is ego saying F-you to Saturn’s deathbed training. How wasteful and un-strategic, says Saturn. “Let’s smear death across the face of the entire planet,” says Pluto. Enter Coronavirus.
Why show up for the devastating loss of our me-story? Why not plunge forward? Because “fully arriving” means being present to what’s leaving, then noticing what’s doing neither one. This is the essence of meditation.
The slightest turn of the head annihilates an entire visual landscape. In a few minutes, this carefully crafted article will shatter into fragments of dead, forgotten thought. Why do or say anything? To break the paradigm paralysis. To stop forgetting whose dream we’re in. To admit: prayerless-ness is foreplay for pointlessness.
The Force That Finishes Marathons
Remember: you asked for this. Saturn/Pluto is the force that finishes marathons. The purpose of life? To pound hard on a soulful track of service that turns us into wise lovers. There are more important things than staying alive.
Have you noticed? Cherished freedoms, passing pleasures: they’ve been drying up for years. Relationships were turning monastic, faster. A frantic nihilism was turning all the faces alabaster. There was only one move left: see through the grey face of this time-bound world (Saturn) with relentless Pluto perception until you contact something unborn, undying, imperishable. How? By confessing:
No matter how much our Being swoons and celebrates the soul of another, Mr. mind is busy in the background, anxiously lamenting the sharp cut of space, the fleshy evidence of separation, the cruel proof of our orphaned predicament. No one is immune to this devil virus.
But wait. This is not a problem. It’s a call to a mightier, more all-inclusive love: a mercy that washes over the tender beauty of the soul and the lonely strut of ego, drowning both, together, in the seamless field of sentience we rise and fall in.
Pre-Corona, post-Corona, the stakes remain the same: reverie or cynicism.
They say there’s no turning back. That the world has changed forever. “Nah,” says Saturn, “You’re just more aware of the countdown. And more eager to launch.”
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