There’s a moon, Mars and Venus configuration going on in the skies this week. If you look up near the moon, you’ll find a super bright star—Venus. But then, when you move a bit closer to the moon with a smaller, orange glow you’ll find Mars.
I have a tendency to look up as often as possible. To find where the sun is throughout the day, figure out where the the moon is peeking through and always trying to find a shooting star.
I’ve been doing this for as far back as I could remember, even taking a college course to be able to learn more about astronomy and eventually diving into astrology almost 10 years ago.
When I was little, my family had a small, super cushioned couch that I would pack with a backpack, several blankets and all my stuffed animals, and pretend we were in a rocket ship heading out to outer space. The couch was different shades of brown with wagons and trees patterns.
“Poosh!” I would yell, holding on to the pretend steering wheel, with a enormous universe before me.
The sun will always rise and set the same. After the winter solstice, you can expect the days to get longer again, the nights shorter, as nature begins to jump back into course. The seasons, tides and moon’s rotation remain consistent in what they do.
“I read somewhere that the moon affects everything from ocean tides to soy and plantations,” I told Luis. “So why can’t it also do something to us and our bodies?”
He didn’t reply back. But I think it somehow made sense to him. He usually stays quiet when he gets what I’m talking about. After almost two decades together, I’m pretty sure it’s what makes us work.
I honestly didn’t care if the moon physically did anything to me. For me it was enough that she’ll be full in a few days, then new again and that we can predict when an eclipse will happen even decades from now.
That consistency. The fact that we can rely on that rotation is what brings me comfort.
“And what about the other planets,” he said, sorting them out in his mind.
“They’re there too… they’re always there.” I said.
Luis lost his job a few days ago. Earlier today when the moon and planets were first showing, I pointed up to the sky where Venus was and playfully said, “That’s my homegirl right there.”
We were getting into the car to pick up the kids. He had just gotten back from the gym and looked tired. I wasn’t sure if he had been crying. I’m sure he wasn’t, but you never know.
He sat down, got comfortable in the seat and pulled down the window to take a peek.
“Where?” he asked, unsure of what the hell was I talking about now (I’m sure).
He then laughed, after seeing how this super bright thing and then glancing at me to see how serious I was: “I don’t think she likes you very much right now.”
Luis had picked up a bit from my Astro-talk over the years, and this was his way of telling me he’s sort of getting what I’m saying. I think he knew how sensual Venus is supposed to be, and that maybe calling her “home girl” was the best way to welcome her tonight.
“No, please—she loves me,” I said and he smiled back for what was probably the first time since it happened.
It was honestly the strangest conversation we’ve had. But talking about Venus at that moment as my homegirl and sign ruler, about the moon and the sky – I just knew I had to take him away from what was going on around us.
It wasn’t my spaceship-couch. But I still could imagine an invisible steering wheel and the enormous universe before me.