Simple Grace

Private Journal~



The air smelled warm and chemically sweet in the nursing home. I pressed “two” as the elevator slowly rose to the second floor. The door opened, and I walked across the dining area looking for Mom. She wasn’t there. The other patients were slowly eating though many had their heads drooped over as if they were asleep. Hardly anyone talked. The lights on the Christmas wreath on the far wall twinkled in the somnolent dreamscape.



The door was open to her room, but the curtains were drawn around the bed. Could she have died? The hall was so quiet, maybe no one had noticed. Pulling the curtain open I saw that her eyes were closed, her jaw was open and breathing weak. I sat down next to her, took her hand in mine, and began to pray to God to release this Soul, if this was for the highest good of all.

“Isabelle?” She stirred and opened her eyes. “It’s you?” I could hear how hard it was for her to talk.

“Yes, Mom, it’s me.”

Her lips pursed, as if to say more, but we were interrupted by a nurse checking her vital signs. I was asked to wait outside.

I walked back towards the dining room and collapsed into a chair. Staring blankly across the room at a simple crèche of Mary and Jesus in the stable I saw the naïve tackiness of the plastic figures. But it didn’t strike me as naïve or cheap this time; instead I remembered how Mom had put real straw in the manger of her plastic crèche, and I remembered the time she devoted each year to setting up the Christmas village under the tree. We both loved the miniature scene that transported one back to a simpler time and place. There was always snow, the girl always had an ice mirror to skate on, and the warm lights of the church were welcoming.



Simple grace. I thought of the simple grace and perfect faith I had felt on the day of my first communion. Dressed in white, like the little bride of Jesus, I wondered if I would feel a tingling as the body of Jesus, in the form of a simple wafer, was placed in my mouth. As I grew older I lost the peace that came with such simplicity and embodied faith, but in its place came a trust in the cycles and the process of life, leading again, to a vaguer but still simple “goodness/Godness”. Astrology had given me that, yet what would happen if all the astrological signs were present for this great transition, and nothing happened? Would I lose my faith in astrology? Would I lose faith in synchronicity and the mysterious correspondence that existed between the chart and life events? Would I even lose faith in this Goodness, this God?



I was too tired to think anymore. Seems as if I’m forever attempting to read the mind of God. And God’s mind is ultimately unknowable, yet ‘learning lessons of compassion’ would sometimes feel like an excusable reason when life felt unfair and the transits were hard. But now, all I could do was to let my head fall on the table in front of me like some of the other residents of the home. My energy was spent….this must be what it’s like to die here, I mused.



And for the first time, tears began to flow into my lap. They came in a flow of gentle drops….till I felt cleansed and empty. I must have fallen into a light sleep, as I seemed to drift back to my sanctuary room, and staring at the astrology charts I imagined the signs had changed once more….but, like in a bad dream when you’re called upon to know something you don’t know, I felt ashamed. Here I was, unable to read what was the charts. I couldn’t remember if it was an ending or a beginning, or whose it was.



I awoke by the soft touch of a nurse’s hand on my shoulder. “You can go in now, dear.”



I sat down next to the bed again, and took her cool hand in mine. Her eyes opened again and she whispered: “I love you…..”



I waited for the rest of the sentence. But there wasn’t any more. I was shocked. “I love you too, Mom.” Then she closed her eyes as if to close our session, and I walked away. When I got to the elevator I panicked, and ran down the steps instead. This was one of the very few times she had ever said “I love you” when it wasn’t followed by a “but…” I had been graced.



Early the next morning she died. Jupiter was quickly approaching my Sun, and my grief began lifting like the morning mist, being ‘over-lightened’ by this mutual act of simple grace.

Astrological Signs of Death

artwork: Susan Boulet

Dear Kendra~


It was good to hear from you and to hear you are well. I simply haven’t been able to write till now, but here I sit, staring at the computer screen back in my astrology “office” in Newport, R.I. I left Sophie and Alistair to come back to care for my mother in the nursing home. Her stroke was massive, and the astrology charts are blatant in their verdict. All the signs are there: the subtle and foreboding omens of a mind and body slipping away. I feel exhausted in dealing with a problem that has only one solution—death. This is the final act in a long and tortured relationship that has been bandaged, but not healed. But no matter how much one may know in one’s mind that the end is near, and try to put it all in perspective, the reality is always a shock. And I can feel my grief…



This morning when I went to the nursing home, my mother was scared and wanted to talk about dying. I told her how I had heard that dying is sometimes compared to slipping out of an old shoe that was too tight. She seemed to like that. The nurse came by with some pumpkin pie and I fed us both, spoonful by spoonful, and there was something about feeding her this way that felt healing. Then I rubbed her feet for a few moments before I left and went back to my “sanctuary.” It was hard to leave, but yet I couldn’t seem to stay longer today…



Kendra, did I ever tell you about where I work? Sometimes I think of it as a sanctuary—it’s a small room with high ceilings and dark wood walls. It has a small fireplace, two comfortable olive green chairs facing each other with a large amber stained glass light between them. There’s a Victorian writing desk on the side—it’s made from a deep grained oak and has several drawers and secret nooks. It’s called a Larkin desk, and was traditionally bought with coupons by Victorian ladies who bought enough Larkin Soap! On the desk I keep a fountain pen, a leather journal, and an ink-stained blotter that I found in Florence once. The amber lamp casts a soft glow across the writing table, and I love the spare moments when I actually use my old pen and journal. There’s a bookcase next to the desk and at least a dozen journals I’ve kept through the years.



Anyway…when I sit at the desk I look out the front window to see the old Redwood library with its enormous copper beach tree. (How appropriate or strange it is that the historic library and the astrologer’s office should be right opposite each other!) When I first opened this space I wondered if the townspeople would even allow an astrologer on this well-heeled end of Bellevue Avenue. So I found an antique pendulum clock and put it in full view from the front window, hoping that the Victorian ambience would not feel threatening. So far it has worked! And for me it has created a sacred space.



The only anachronism here is the computer, but I must have it for the astrology programs. And here is what I’m staring at: Mom is 88 years old, with transiting Saturn conjunct her natal Saturn in the 12th house, and Uranus conjunct the Moon. The transiting Uranus on her Moon is the shock of this change, this stroke. The restrictive 12th house atmosphere of the nursing home and her paralysis is echoed in the 12th house placement of Saturn….and she’s having her third Saturn Return. The Saturn metaphors of transition with solitariness seem fitting. And dying is both work and letting go…ah, not easy! Everyone has a third Saturn Return around the age of 88, if they live that long—did you know that? Not all of us live to see it or live through it, but how interesting that it’s seldom talked about.



Death is usually indicated in the chart of a person who is close to the dying person—rather than the person themselves. It often marks its presence by a strong Jupiter transit in the caregiver when it’s a matter of “When will she be released? And me?” And I see that Jupiter will be aspecting my Sun within the next couple of weeks. And with her 3rd Saturn Return happening at the same time as Uranus, the planet of sudden change, aspects her Moon, her emotions—well, this is as close to a prediction of a death as I’ve ever seen. In fact, if it doesn’t happen now, I think my faith in astrology will be severely tested…we’ll see…the question is: Can we do any more healing between us? Till later my dear~Isabelle

Astrological Symbols and the Greek Inscription on Jung's Bollingen Stone

Dear Kendra~

Knowing that I’d have to leave Sophie and Zurich the next morning, we spent a few hours wandering the old city in search of the perfect “parting” gift for me to give Sophie. What I found was a little framed photograph of the “forgotten stone” carved by Carl Jung at his private sanctuary at Bollingen. It’s full of carved astrological symbols. At first, Sophie thought it was a strange little image.



“I don’t have a cross as a talisman of the astrological mysteries,” I tried to explain, “Or a symbol of my spirituality, but this stone mandala comes pretty close. It’s called the ‘forgotten stone’ because it was left at Jung’s house by mistake, by men who were delivering supplies from a quarry nearby to his home. When they remembered the large square stone they’d left, Jung refused to let them take it, saying ‘No, it has found its way here.’ And in honor of his 75th birthday he carved into the stone….”



Sophie looked at it closely, as I continued: “You see first, it’s a mandala divided into four; the number of wholeness. In the center is a little monk holding a lantern—some call it a ‘homunculus,’ which, in ancient texts, meant ‘the little man inside the brain’. And if you look closer, you’ll see that he has the astrological sign for Mercury on his robe. It looks like a pendant he’s wearing. And this is the sign of Mercury, or Hermes, who’s the one who links the outer world to the inner world. Heaven and Earth. God and man. He’s the one who communicates. Everyone has Mercury in their own astrological someone where…doing something. And if you know what sign and aspects Mercury takes in your chart, you learn a little more about yourself.”





She looked curious. “You once told me that my Mercury was in Scorpio, and that it meant I loved delving into the hidden and invisible worlds…..interesting! What do the other astrology signs and writing mean? Sophie asked, pointing to the glyphs.



“On his right side of him you’ll see the astrological signs for the Sun and Jupiter, and on the left: Venus and the Moon. These relate to what Jung called “the alchemical sacred marriage” of the male (Sol) and female (Luna). Jupiter is grace, and Venus is love. The planets across the horizontal line—just like the horizontal line on the cross hint at a receptive grace, and the vertical axis points to human pain and striving. On the top here, is Saturn, and beneath him is Mars. These ‘yang’ signs represent the struggle to live on this earth—the resistance of Saturn and the assertiveness of Mars. Together the planets in the four quadrants tell a story….and Jung believed all “the opposites in our nature”, even of good and evil were intimately related and inseparable. He even felt God and man needed each other, in a sense, to be whole.”



Sophie reached across the table and touched my hand. I felt a little unnerved, because her gesture went so far beyond anything I had said. But she simply said: “Go on….”



“…and look here at the Greek writing around the center; the translation’s under the photo: ‘Aion (time) is a child at play, gambling; a child is of the Kingship. The man who accomplishes, the homunculus, traverses the dark places of the world, like a star flashing the deep, leading the way to the Gates of the Sun and the Land of Dreams.’”



“It reminds me of Jesus saying that we must become like little children again to enter the kingdom of heaven,” Sophie added smiling.



“I agree…truly, here’s another human on a cross, and he’s trying to communicate a great mystery….through symbols.”



“I get it…but now…don’t say anything, Mom. I’m going to do a little magic on you. I’m going to pray now…see if you can feel it.”



And I did. I had no words for it.



And that’s what happened today, Kendra—! I’ll write tomorrow when I’m on the plane back to the States.

 Love, Isabelle~

Saturn and Venus: Love and the Demands of Love.

Private Journal, Oct 14th

Before Sophie and I even had breakfast, I looked at my emails—I’m forwarding them into my journal for pondering—



Dearest Isabelle~

I wonder if you’ll get this before you and Sophie get to Zurich. I want so much to see you both again, and yet I feel…tormented. I don’t know how to reconcile me, you…. Us. Let me tell you what happened today….



As you know, I’m not in Zurich, but in Saneen where the Krishnamurti center is, and today I was looking for a card for my friend, Adria…I guess you’d say I was looking for an anniversary card to mark this past year of our closeness. I’ve mentioned my friend, Adria, to you—but I’ve never told you that she’s been almost a partner to me—but not really—that’s not what this is about…it’s about me standing in front of the cards in the store intending to do one thing, but doing another. As I stood there reading the anniversary cards my eyes began filling with tears and a great sadness came over me. I realized that my heart was still with you, Isabelle…that it was our many years together that mattered, and not this past year. I knew then that I wanted to come back to you—I know that my detached and independent way is fine within intellectual circles--the Krishnamurti world---but I want our life back-- our family back.



You said to me at Lindisfarne that you sensed that “our story” wasn’t over yet, and I didn’t know what you meant then. But there’s something about the continuity—or severance—of a relationship that strikes close to the bone. The ego feels so liberated at first, feels so free from the difficult yoga of partnership, but then in time, there’s a sense of loss, as if part of who I am and who we were was never true or good…and it was; it was very good. Maybe you understand this. And now I think you’re right….some deep part of me feels a loneliness I barely understand. I need to see you… When? ~Tell me what you think~with love~Alistair



Yes, this felt good…full of promise. But then I glanced at my emails again, and saw there was another one that just came up---from the “Hartford Hospital” in Connecticut informing me that my mother had suffered a serious stroke, and they were doing all they could, in their power, to keep her in stable condition, and to find and inform me of this. They said time was crucial.



What do I do?? I can’t believe I’m going to be ripped away from this possibility of getting together with Alistair here, and showing Sophie the places and ideas that are so dear to my heart! This can’t be happening…and yet it is, and now when Sophie wakes up, I’m going to have to tell her that I have to leave—right away! OMG, this must be Saturn. Doing what must be done.

Saturn conjunct Neptune and Venus: the "Unfolding Story" of Love and Illusion

Dear Kendra~


We got to Zurich in the pouring rain and wandered through the streets of the old town looking for a place to stay. Finally, near exhaustion, we stopped at a café for coffee—cappuccino (!) and I spotted a marionette-puppet shop across the street… so we ducked in there, and I turned into a kid again looking for the lost Pinocchio… but instead I left with one scruffy-looking marionette of a street musician playing a fiddle! Don’t know why I treasure these little guys so much, but being as I was a rather lonely only child, I can only suspect they were special “friends” to me when no one else was there.



As it turned out, the shop-keeper rented rooms above his shop, so we finally found a place to settle into, and Sophie and I took our computers out and set them up in private corners of the quaint high ceiling room. How strange they seemed in this history soaked room—! Here’s a photo I took of the painting that hangs on the far wall of our room. I’m totally transfixed by its quality of “yearning.” Sophie says it’s by one of the pre-Raphaelite painters—an artist named “Waterhouse” and is a painting of Dante’s ‘Beatrice’~



So, we agreed to spend a few moments checking our emails—this was the first one I saw:



Dear Isabelle~


             Take a look under the musician’s hat. There’s something there for you…


~Sophie


“What’s this?!” I turned around to see Sophie grinning like a cheshire cat.



“Check your marionette again—he has something for you…”



I slowly unwrapped the purple tissue and untied the package and looked at the marionette’s quixotic face. And there, under the stove-pipe hat, was a tiny silver mandala on a long delicate chain. A perfect sphere, inclosing an equal sided cross.



“And this one is for me-- she took out a little green velvet bag and held up what looked to be the same. But it was different—this was a circled cross, a Celtic Cross with the vertical cross longer than the horizontal….



“They’re different—but, almost the same—I found them in Whitby that last afternoon when I was out walking by myself, and I love how they’re similar—but different, like us.”



My first thought was terrible. I wanted to take a scissors and snip off the long end of her cross. I wanted to make hers the same as mine—to take off the unequal long end and to remove all the painful connotations of that long center cross-post—like the one Jesus was nailed to. I wanted her to have a perfect astrological mandala. I wanted her life to be a perfect balance of opposites….these were “mother instincts”….yet my life was so far from a perfect mandala. Instead I broke into tears and hugged her.

                                                                  *****

So here we have: Saturn conjuncting Neptune and Venus. Sometimes the easiest way to get to the meaning of aspects is to break apart all the words that describe each planet and then combine them together….so with Saturn one might say: solitary, disciplined, melancholy, re-structuring, serious, practical, harvest, maturing—and then with Neptune: dreamer, visionary, imaginative, permeable, illusion, escapism, ego-less, spiritual, addiction, yearning, sacrifice…..so what do you get: a solitary dreamer, disciplined imagination, melancholy re-structuring, practical addictions…that’s a good one! I think there’s an important distinction between preferences and addictions. Preferences you choose, and have control over, whereas addictions have a hold on you. So if we can upgrade our addictions to preferences, and find the path of moderation, this is ideal. This “taking control” or disciplining is Saturnian, and the watery, ethereal qualities of Neptune can be held and used well when they are combined, like water being held within the banks of a river.



Now, we can add the third element: Venus. Astrology is never simple; it’s like a complex puzzle or crossword, and so it’s a good idea to solve the clues you can see first and work up to what seemed at first too difficult to understand. So take the planetary meanings apart first, and then look at what they do when they’re combined together. With Venus added to this Saturn/Neptune puzzle we get the clue that we are dealing with the Venus realm—the realm of the heart, beauty, and relationships. But though Saturn sounds harsh, it actually is “exalted” in Venus-ruled Libra and in the ancient texts because Saturn likes the way Venus desires to structure relationships.



Adding the illusory “yearning” nature of Neptune softens the picture, and we get a picture of what is happening, but not an answer. Will the yearning for Venusian love be compatible with the illusory nature of Neptune? Will Saturn show himself as the wise inner guide or a stern inner critic? Will transiting Saturn on this Venus-Neptune conjunction in Libra survive the reality (Saturn) and the disciplined duties (Saturn) or will Neptune obscure all the outlines of reality and true feeling, and turn this into a hauntingly beautiful dark painting one can barely see….?



Till later, dearest Kendra~