Identity, Wandering


I look forward to making a new performance and learning a new way of creating in conjunction with this Soap Factory exhibit which I have not yet seen. Yesterday I realized that my desire to live in a collective community is not merely political or spiritual; it’s actually my prerogative. The Goddess Astrologer suggested that my Pluto/Uranus ascendant makes me a person who relates the energy of her chart in a collective, rather than personal, way. A person with a collective identity. Pluto and Uranus are outer, slow-moving planets that carry the experience of the entire collective (unlike faster-moving planets like Mercury, Venus, and Mars, that carry the experience of the personal).

The word planet means “wanderer” or “wandering star.” I do like to wander. My mind wanders, its thoughts perhaps are planetary. Other stars are “fixed,” they don’t wander. That’s why we can afford the constellations.

Maybe memories are more like fixed stars.

We live on a wandering star whose orbit necessitates versatile perspective. Scorpius is still Scorpius even when occupied by Saturn, even when we lose sight of it every winter as it falls below the ecliptic. Mnemotics. We rotate memory in our minds, our planet rotates on an axial precession around the fixed star which is the Sun. Around all the fixed stars, in varying relationship to other wanderers near and far. I suppose then that the moon really is placental—mediating the fixed and the wandering.

Sometimes the wanderers change course. Sometimes they feel drawn to revisit, review, reconsider. Instrange themselves. Quicksilver Mercury in retrograde yesterday conjunct the sun at about 14 degrees Pisces, the location of my natal moon. With Uranus/Pluto conjunct at 15 degrees Virgo on my ascendant—Virgo and Pisces being zodiacal opposites—my collective persona is constantly opposed by this deeply personal and interior lunar gravity. And Mercury, the psychopompic transwanderer, is chafing chafing—sending a piercing light up the cave. What I always believed to be the figure of a horse on the wall in this light I’m astonished to realize has all along actually been a tree.

Mercury exposing my 6th house moon, my body’s pussy riot and sloppy memory, my descent, my maternity, my losing my head— “antlering, leaves letting go of me.”

But this is not a blog.



About foxopomp

Sarah Fox is the author of Because Why and The First Flag, both from Coffee House Press. She lives in Chicago, next to and overlooking a cemetery whose eclectic populace issues occult provocations, by way of the wind, into her dreams, diagnostics, and distractions. Sarah teaches poetics, practices astrology, encapsulates placentas, serves as a doula, and is co-janitor (with Lucas de Lima) at the Center for Visionary Disobedience. Contact her here for more info on astrology readings, poetry readings, private poetics and astro workshops, making placenta medicine, doula services, or other simpatico salutations. <3
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