...and I am safe

Mars retrograde x Full Moon in Cancer

This week’s message is about a sensitive situation that remains very much alive. I want to approach it with the care and consideration it deserves, so I also offer you this audio recording of my words if you would find it meaningful to connect with the emotional tone of my voice. I write and speak from the heart, and I hope this offers us both healing.

You feel it differently when things hit home.

It’s one thing to hear about something in the news, and it’s quite another to hear about it from someone you know and love who is living it. And perhaps because I’ve become so adept at keeping sensationalized media messages at bay these past few years, it goes right to my heart when a story comes to life in my personal sphere.

So it went last night when I heard from a dear friend how the fires raging across LA had burned down a part of her life - her summer rental, her brother’s house, her nephew’s school. With it went the libraries, grocery stores and restaurants that had served as meaningful family gathering places, the staples of daily life that held a close-knit community together. It was, in a single word, devastating.¹

I’ve asked Our Universe to only deliver me information about situations where I can make a clear, immediate and meaningful difference, so this morning I am taking up my end of the bargain and mustering up the courage to write about the fires. I am doing so not as an astrological ambulance-chaser - one who might all too eagerly link the present planetary movements with painful world events - but as a real-life person who cares deeply about the City of Angels. Because it’s not just a place I’ve seen on TV, it’s not just a place where I know people, it’s not just a place I’ve visited - it’s the place where my own two children were conceived, the place where I first met the wonderful woman who carried them, the place where my family began.

So let me start with this, something that found me last week through the magic of the algorithm:

meditationsecrets

A post shared by @meditationsecrets

“When a problem comes up, one of the best things to say is: ‘All is well. Everything is working out for my highest good, and out of this situation - this so-called problem - only good will come. And I am safe.’” - Louise Hay

It’s easy to listen to these words. Maybe it’s even easy to say them. But as I sit here wondering about those who are waking up in beds that are not their own, those who are facing days without the comforts of familiarity - is it easy to feel this?

And yet I know that what Louise (a Los Angeles native) says is true. From my own life, I can see how experiences of devastation have paved the pathway to rebirth. I know that I have everything I need to survive and come out stronger. I know that there is a bigger picture, that Our Universe loves us, that one day this will all make perfect sense. And if all of this is true, then I have every reason to feel safe now.

I acknowledge that it is a brave choice to feel safe in the midst of a natural disaster, and I am amazed by how capably we choose to do this. I can imagine how harrowing it is to watch your house float up to the sky in a sea of embers, to witness the seat of so many memories go up in flames. But the destruction of our personal property is never the lead story in our hearts - for its focus is, as always, first and foremost on the people (and pets) we love.

In those moments where we find ourselves bathed in the fear of loss and destruction, so much about what matters to us can become clear. If someone told me that I had 30 minutes to gather my most precious belongings into a suitcase, I would go straight for the scrapbooks, souvenirs and stuffed animals that make me smile. I’d wrap them tenderly in layers of love, listening to the sweet lullaby of times gone by. So I know that even the fabulously flashy fashionista culture of Southern California is no match for this sweeping power of sentimentality, and I am grateful to our sisters and brothers there who now remind us of what we hold most dearly: each other.

When I look up in the sky, I see this wisdom beaming down to us from the constellation of Cancer. Cancer is our very own cozy celestial home, a place of caring, comfort and consolation. Ruled by the Moon, Cancer calls on us to celebrate our ever-changing feelings and the bittersweet moments they wash into our lives. It can be prone to nostalgia at times if we prize the rose-tinted paintings of the past over the richer colors of the present, and it can also point us squarely to what we wish to carry forward if we pause to listen to our heart.

Last month I wrote about the Mars retrograde that has now crossed from the lion’s lair of Leo into the crab’s claws of Cancer, and it’s eerie to look back and see how the images and themes I picked evoke the spirit of Hollywood.² Mars is inescapably linked with intemperate heat and Los Angeles has long been associated with the showbiz buzz of Leo, so in this sense perhaps it’s no surprise that this is where Mars is choosing to make its presence known. And since Mars moved into Cancer this past Monday, the fires have very literally hit home.

I want to be clear that I would never have wished for or publicly predicted the fires that now burn in LA. But I need to acknowledge the worldly and emotional backdrop against which I write in order to open up to the good that can come from this, in order to feel safe again. This courage to create safe spaces for growth is the blessing of Mars in Cancer, and I hope that working through my own discomfort to write this post can in some way help us both embrace the possibility of a more loving outcome for all.

It is in this spirit that I invite us to more directly connect with Mars in the heavens this week, to welcome the message it has to share. Over these next few days, the red planet will appear brighter and brighter in our skies until it reaches its closest point to the Earth on Thursday. This marks the halfway point of the retrograde, when Mars will sit opposite the Sun in Capricorn and demand that we show it what we are made of (answer: tough stuff). We will also witness a Full Moon in Cancer on Monday night just next to this emboldened Mars and its call to action, a recipe sure to swiftly bring our most sensitive spots to light.

It is my hope that these transits mark a turn in the course of events, that the watery Cancer moon rains down sweet relief on Los Angeles. And for those of us who are still in our homes, I encourage you to find gratitude for the things that warm your heart. Reach deep inside your soul and remember that Our Universe is a fundamentally safe and loving place, no matter what it seems on the outside. And it is - above all else - always safe for you to feel how you feel.

So if you need to cry, then please let yourself cry. If you need to scream, then please let yourself scream. If you need a hug, then please let yourself be held. Because if you want to make yourself a safe space for people to share their feelings, the best place to start is by acknowledging yours. And please know that you’re not alone, that I’m here learning to do the same thing -

Love,

Patrick

PS: If you have the means to contribute, the California Fire Foundation can provide immediate relief to those most affected.❤️‍🩹

1. My friend has very kindly given me permission to share their story here even as the loss and jeopardy loom large. I am deeply appreciative of this openness, and I am also profoundly grateful that it has inspired more openness in me.

2. It’s even eerier that the week just before this - as Mars approached its retrograde station - I shared a picture of me on the very trip to Los Angeles where my daughter’s life began. It was a post about finding gratitude for every moment that shows up, words that both challenge and comfort me as I write this today.