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I’ve been doing rounds with myself, singing Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song about Halley’s comet over and over:

Its tail stretched out like a stardust streak
The papers wrote about it every day for a week
I wondered where it’s going and where it’s been
When Halley came to Jackson in 1910.

Every once in a while, we get to witness a rare astronomical event, like Halley’s comet.  This year we’ve had more then our usual share of unusual star-bound events.  Today is no exception:  Venus is traveling across the face of the sun, an event that will not occur again for 120 years.

Venus’s motion is retrograde, meaning it appears to be moving backward. During retrograde cycles, we reflect and rethink old patterns.  In a Venus retrograde our reflections turn toward love and abundance, not just for the time moving forward but for the time we have just been through.

Last night Deb Soule and I taught about flower essences. I awoke this morning wondering who was in bloom in the garden whose energy would align with the energy of Venus.  From my window, I eyed the last rose of the season.

Rose and pink tourmaline essence, I decided, bathed in the energy of this Venus transit.  Symbolically, love + love + love. I headed out to the garden with my bowl of water.  The rose fell in a pale pink shimmer on top of the deep pink of the tourmaline.  Beautiful.

As I walked toward the garden’s center. I couldn’t help but notice the vibrance of the St. John’s wort flower and the gleam of the evening primrose  The rose seemed to float, lonely and isolated in its bowl.

In my mind, I began to run through the properties of St. John’s wort and evening primrose.  Did they blend with rose?  Would this be a nice trio?  My mind, in its never ending quest for precision and perfection, turned over the possibilities.

The St. John’s wort beckoned again; it seemed to smile at me.  It whispered of abundance, the abundance of this garden I would soon be leaving. My house is sold; we are living here on borrowed time as we wait to close on our new home.  Venus is retrograde and I am walking through what will soon be my past, the abundance I have created here, the love I have poured into this landscape.

I looked at the bowl in my hands, at the garden around me, and remembered love’s many faces, not just the pinks but the primrose yellows, the indigo of bachelor buttons, the blood spot of crimson in the center of a tiny euphorbia bloom.

In mere seconds, abundance ousted control.  St. John’s wort and sedum, primrose, hyacinth, Carolina all-spice, Bachelor’s buttons, valerian and even smart weed flowers all went into the bowl to soak up the energy of Venus as it crossed the sun. This retrograde, this revisit, this abundance, will travel with me, bottled in amber, as I begin again.

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