Weeks ago now, this Venus retrograde period brought up, in me, feelings of needing to lean into care and romance for the self. And as these weeks have passed, I have felt the deep despair and struggle that has come with her descension into the underworld through this forty-day process. I have watched this darkness fall on those around me as well, considerable chaos and lack of care abound, a distinct lack of unity amongst others. Little care for the self, little care for others. A loss of hope, no trust in tomorrow.
It has felt foreign and curious. A spectacularly distant leap from what that weekend entering this story felt like. I wrote then about taking the time to find care for yourself, to luxuriate in these small moments of oiling, of enjoying summer fruits, of dipping into those tiny moments of joy, no matter how small. Making love to ourselves, romancing ourselves through these simple acts of turning the mundane into these special, magical moments. Moments we dedicate to us, ourselves.
And as I reflect back on this now, as Venus has left her place in the evening sky, having sunk below the horizon over the last two or so weeks, I can see the way this movement has reflected in our every day. Getting a glimpse of what the world looks like without Venus, her beauty and unifying qualities. These last couple of weeks of utter chaos and disconnection, of discord and hopelessness, of despair, it all makes sense.
As I sink deeper into this thought, I look back at those words uttered just weeks before, of taking the time to truly feel into those tiny glimpses of joy. Those golden flecks of light shining through the smoke filled air during golden hour after weeks of wildfire. Of allowing yourself to truly care for yourself, despite what chaos swirls around in the world. And as challenging as it can be to sit with these difficult emotions, feelings of lack, of victimhood, it is ever more important to have your own back through it all. To know that at the end of the day, you can make tiny shifts to survive another day. Our practices of self care and self-regulation become of utmost importance through these times, and, as I suspect, as we move further into a world where individuation will be centered more and more. We must be willing to get ourselves the help we need before going off to help another, just as we are asked to put the oxygen mask on ourselves before assisting another in case of emergency.
In recent weeks, I’ve watched as people’s deep, dark parts have come spewing out into the world. It’s shown just how unfamiliar others can be with their own shadows. In my own practice, I’ve been forced to acknowledge over time that we are not always ready to face, let alone embrace, those hidden spaces within ourselves, that we can’t really interfere with the process. If it’s time for these things to come up then it’s time, but if not, there’s nothing that can be done. I know I have my own parts of self that I have yet to see, but a core value I’ve held throughout development of my work with others is ensuring that I am doing what I can to be the most healthy and stable self I can be, knowing that I am working with others in a very sensitive way.
While a solid self-regulation practice has been a large part of this work for me, shadow work has felt like an integral part of this as well. Knowing that, at our core, as our animalistic self, we all have the capacity for evil. No person is wholly good or wholly evil, and it’s important to acknowledge that within ourselves, a thing I've watched others shirk away from. It’s important to be able to embrace those darker parts of ourselves. When we can, we become able to hold space for the darker parts of others, we become able to nurture freedom from them, we become able to create space for goodness to grow.
There is a level of irony I find as I type these words out, of seeking out within us and leaning into the hope and beauty that Venus typically assists us with. My own relationship with Venus, typically, being that of hopefulness, to my own detriment at times, with her in her exaltation within my own chart. Reflecting on the words offered to me earlier this year, that there is no action in hope. But, as we move through this inferior conjunction of Venus, as she begins to peak up over the horizon for her new life as a morning star, it’s become so clear the importance of hope. That it is a necessary feeling, it offers us the ability to trust that tomorrow is a new day, that the dark, awful things we may experience are not here to stay forever. That we can make it through this dark night, feeling renewed in the morning’s light.
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