During one of my walks recently I went along the Planet Trail, learning about the size and properties of the planets. I was happy to discover that the dwarf planet Ceres had her place along the trail, and, what is more, its model was placed in a very charming spot in the forest, next to a stream. The gentle sound of water made it a very fitting place for the goddess. A few hundred metres further was Mars, and its part of the forest had a decisively different quality about it.
Referring to astrology, in the days to come, Ceres is going to make a conjunction with the mean north node of the moon, which seems to be very significant, perhaps bringing along heavily charged, fated encounters along with an enormous potential of healing through relationships. The following article, in my opinion, summarizes this influence quite well:
I particularly liked this passage:
“Of course there is a bittersweet element to every Scorpionic encounter. At some point we may discover that those we become involved with, even those we grow to love and help transform, may develop a deep dependence upon our special brand of nurturing, a strange attachment to have more, even to expect or demand this from us. This is mostly because their former ego is now destroyed and their regenerated sense of self is largely based upon their relationship to us. Jealousy, possessiveness and obsessive behaviour may ensue, and if we are not careful, once we show any sign of denying them of our assistance they could become resentful, even spiteful towards us should we try to distance ourselves or abandon them. Isolation issues are often just as likely to replace the problems which needed our nurturing in the first place.”
Louise Labé was a female French poet of the Renaissance. I have come across one of her Sonnets, which I think is quite amazing, and very timely with the transit of Ceres:
“Nor Ulysses, nor any craftier man,
At the sight of your O so godly face,
So full of honour & respect & grace,
Could have predicted what a wreck I am.
Love, your eyes drove through me like a blade,
Piercing my startled heart with one fell deed,
And there you settle down, there you feed,
But you alone can heal the wound you make.
How cruel a thing is fate, how inhumane!
Here I am, recovering from a scorpion’s bite,
Asking its venom to make me well again.
Love, rid me of everything I sorely dread,
But don’t erase that ache I so desire:
Without this lack, I might as well be dead.”
(Translated by Richard Sieburth, published in the latest issue of “The New York Review of Books”)
Evelyn de Morgan, “Demeter Mourning for Persephone”