Paid two bills with personal checks to mail today, using laboriously scrawling, and wincing with pain, right hand. Will save the others until tomorrow.
(Later: aaah, a dear neighbor came over and wrote the rest of the checks. All I had to do was laboriously sign them. He followed another dear, this one from my gift circle, who came to help me organize the GANG garden tools on the porch. Thanks to both!)
Noticed, while walking with puppy Shadow this morning, that I didn’t have to hold my splint-wrapped right arm up to my chest — for more than half the walk! So good to begin to slide back into my naturally long-striding, arm-swinging gait!
And something I forgot to say in yesterday’s post about the astrological patterns across time and space that were activated during the “accident.” If you recall, that momentous (for me) event took place during a Mars transit that triggered my Moon’s hook-up with my Mom’s Mars/Uranus/Saturn configuration. (“Moon,” by the way, symbolizes the child and childhood).
I quickly sketched out that configuration in my last post on this subject. But that still doesn’t speak to the exact timing of the event. For that I looked for a planet crossing the Ascendant of the moment of the accident and for which I cast the chart — expecting either impulsive Mars or unpredictable Uranus.
During the moment of the “accident” itself, transit Mars was not only activating the configuration with my Mom, it was then crossing exactly over the Ascendant of the chart for that moment.
The Ascendant, the point on the eastern horizon of the chart, documents the revolution of the Earth around its own axis, moves one degree every four minutes, and is the window where whatever is “going on above/below” manifests into 3D reality. The Ascendant, and the other three “angles” of the chart, which together create the four points of a right-angled cross, are all sensitive points for manifestation. But especially the Ascendant. And, just as I expected, the swiftly moving Ascendant had captured the transit Mars during the time of my fall, on the trail, into my right wrist.
Am I saying that this fall was meant to happen? Yes. Am I saying that it was inevitable? No. But something of that nature was pressing to occur at that moment, given the forces building up inside me (and in the solar system) of which I was, until that moment, largely unaware.
The fracture of my wrist “brought me up short,” as it was meant to.
More ruminations: that I fractured my right wrist, for a right-handed person, is of course of enormous significance. And that I am a writer, packs an even greater punch for the actual nature of the accident. (On the other hand, it obviously didn’t keep my fingers immobilized from typing more than a few days!)
Meanwhile, it was my right arm, wrist, hand, the right side of my body, that was affected, the side where we thrust out into the world. The male, yang, part of me, connected to the left brain.
The right side of me, the female side, was walking next to Perry, another woman, and instinctively chose not to hurt her by correcting violently in her direction at the moment when my foot hit the root.
The male part of me, went down. The Dad in me.
The female part of me, connected to the right brain, refrained from movement, because she so valued the connection with the other.
I sense that this “accident” is meant to bring me into a new kind of balance, right/left, female/male, yin/yang. As, I suspect, is my father’s death.
All of life is meaningful. Meaning radiates from every moment’s still, center point, expands infinitely in all directions.
Some moments seem more pregnant than others.
This is one of them.
The reverberations continue.