First of all I would be remiss not to send all of you a Valentine's greeting on this national day of love. Wishing you all a vase of flowers, dark sea-salty-chocolate, and warm steamy water.
Recently I started working with a Structural Integration bodyworker. I’ve committed to work that focuses on realigning the body's center of gravity. If my body, metaphorically speaking, was in Picasso’s blue period, it is now well into the Cubist phase. This new fascia movement and energy manipulation have me seeing the landscape of the body differently--experiencing new thoughts, feeling and emotions. Being in an avant garde phase with my body has me thinking about all of you. What is new for you? What is shockingly new for you?
New needs need new techniques, Jackson Pollock said. But how do we get there when our universe is full of ruts, confines and habits? How do we get to seeing the bucket of paint as the catalyst for a new kind of beauty?
As I work with my own center of gravity I think of the catalyst that set Marcel Proust on the road to writing Swann’s Way:
Many years had elapsed during which nothing of Combray, save what was comprised in the theatre and the drama of my going to bed there, had any existence for me when one day in winter, on my return home, my mother, seeing that I was cold, offered me some tea, a thing I did not ordinarily take. I declined at first, and then, for no particular reason, changed my mind. She sent for one of those squat, plump little cakes called “petites madeleines,” which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell. And soon, mechanically, dispirited after a dreary day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake.
No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory — this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal.
New Moon Contemplations:
Around this new moon I challenge you to wake up at an hour you do not normally wake. Perhaps just one hour earlier than normal. Brew a cup of stimulating tea or rich coffee. Look around you. Ask for new eyes. See if this time might offer you an insight that you couldn’t find in the bright light of day. Take out your journal and consider these themes and questions:
Where have I become complacent? What is holding me back from seeing with new eyes? What area of my life do I need a healthy dose of innovation and experimentation? Which area of my life do I feel alienated? Why? What shocks me, and why? What feelings do I have at this unexpected hour of the morning?
Write about a time when you felt on fire with new life, innovation, experimentation and excitement.
So, for me I tried to bring some innovation to my website. I have a new offering I am calling the Astro Poem. You can order an astro poem based on your current transiting chart. These make great gifts. You can order one that can be sent to you via text, email or snail mail. Check our more details here: http://www.sharizollinger.com/custom-astrology-poetry/