Everything Aries All at Once
One of the few things that’s been holding me together over the last couple of months is running. I have Mars in Taurus (read: lazy, like a cow out to pasture) and tend to pick up exercise routines for a week or two only to abandon them once they get hard, before developing any kind of endurance or stamina. The last time I came close to developing physical discipline was at the very beginning of COVID lockdown. I famously (to the three friends I was keeping in touch with via text at the time) got very into yoga. I was so into it that I was this close to doing a crow pose—which, if you don’t know, is hard, especially for someone as lazy as me—but then I slept weird, hurt my neck, and all progress was lost. That’s how it usually goes. But for whatever reason, running has been different.
A major reason I think I’ve stuck with running for as long as I have (seven weeks, which for me and exercise is a long term committed relationship) is that I’ve been following Couch to 5K. When I decided I wanted to run (an epiphany I had on a long walk one day), I did some googling and realized that I would burn out if I tried to jog continuously for any length of time without walking breaks. Despite this, I thought following a program like Couch to 5K was too dorky. I wanted to become a runner in a cool way, an intuitive way. So, of course, I went out for my first few jogs, making up intervals as I went, and timing the splits only to the verses and choruses of whatever song was playing on my AirPods. The first time out on the sidewalk, I could only run as long as the chorus of HAIM’s “Gasoline” which felt like an eternity, but is actually 30 seconds. Slowly I realized that I was never going to be progress if I had no idea what I was doing so I gave in and downloaded a Couch to 5K app. Now I let a calming female robot voice tell me when to start and stop running. It’s motivating to know I’ve accomplished something, and validating to complete the task.
Running is on the brain because as of this moment, there are four planets in Aries: Jupiter, Mars, Venus and the Moon, a pileup that practically begs to be delineated as: get moving! go for it! run! It also speaks of aggression, violence, anger, and war. Despite this cosmic powder keg though, today I had my worst ever run. It wasn’t supposed to be like that! I was excited to get out there and listen to Florence + the machine’s Dance Fever since I recently discovered that blissing out to a full album on a jog is better for my brain then frenetically switching back and forth between Doja Cat and my personal pump up song “There There” by Radiohead. But with Florence singing “Free” in my ears on the warmup walk, I felt a wave of emotions crash to the surface. I started crying as I began to run, and though I tried to push through and do the whole 25 minutes planned, somewhere just past a mile, I admitted defeat.
As I walk back home, I think about the confluence of planets in Aries, how it’s ridiculous that on today of all days, when I’m supposed to be the most fired up, I feel overwhelmed and defeated. It makes sense: the world is a garbage fire. But also strangely, at the same time, I’m already getting excited about my next run. I didn’t complete the day, but there’s a plan. Something to return to.
As my mind dances between promise and failure, I start Dance Fever again and think about Florence Welch whose music has been the soundtrack of many turbulent periods of my life. I think about how—despite her fairy aesthetics—so much of her music is angry, spirited and fired up; “Cosmic Love” is all about the percussion! Dance Fever is named for choreomania—a plague of medieval Europe where people literally danced themselves to death. Florence is a Virgo, but she’s literally obsessed with Mars. But why am I feeling so connected to a Virgo on this day when everything is Aries all at once? Then, I realize: duh, Virgo and Aries are antiscia, a fancy astrological term that tells us these two signs are more alike than they seem. During Virgo and Aries season here on Earth, we receive the same amount of light. We can think of these signs as shadow conjunct or two sides of the same coin. I realize that when I’m filled with an overwhelming amount of Aries passion, the best way through is always a Virgo plan of attack. I realize that together, Virgo and Aries make a full impulse, alchemize reaction into action. I realize that, in so many ways, Aries and Virgo really are the same. I laugh as I think of “Bulletproof Coffee” and bullet journaling, and passion planners: all very Aries/Virgo things. Mars and Mercury together are an unstoppable force.
Forget about antiscia and the poetry of that shared quality of light—even on a pop astrology level, Virgo and Aries have a lot in common. Both come off as bossy and impatient, and are prone to sharing opinions that absolutely no one asked to hear. Both Virgo and Aries so shamelessly take up space because they know, deep in their heart, though you may not agree with them, that they’re right. If I’m in the middle of an emotional crisis and planning a flippant cross country road trip, I want my Virgo friend to book the Airbnbs; those lodgings will be fabulous, and there will be no overzealous hosts or hidden fees. If I’m forced to attend a dinner party packed with hidden in plain sight “socially liberal, but fiscally conservative” friends of friends, I want my Aries friend to come as my date; she’ll be genuinely curious to ask all of them exactly why they voted for Jo Jorgensen in 2020. Both Aries and Virgo were built for these kind of real life emergencies. Both signs have a connection to the sixth house, the house of service, managing dis-ease, and war. The go bag is always packed.
In this time of extreme Aries-ness, it’s important to embrace some Virgo strategy. Think about it: why do they call it a passion planner? I’ve written before about how Virgos will literally move mountains for the people they love (only to insist that this was nothing), and about how Aries are our most prolific poets. An Aries in love won’t write you one simple note, they’ll write you a whole album of love songs, and do it fast. My beloved Aries muse and collaborator Nora was always the first to remind the group that comedy should be “loud, fast and funny.” My point is: rage without action is pointless. But also full expression takes practice and time. If you’re feeling overwhelmed then your passion needs a vessel. Things change only when we start moving. “Put it up on its feet,” the constant refrain of every scene study acting teacher, is actually great life advice. (And its advice that basically the entire US government needs to take right now, as I’m so tired, we’re all so tired, of watching them all stand around, talking about the scene. Put it on its feet!)
The moon will be in Aries until late Thursday night/early Friday morning (2:22 AM EDT on 5/27) , and then Mars conjoins Jupiter for their once-in-two-year meeting on the 29th. Until then, passions, tensions, rage, frustration, and libido will be high. But if I’ve learned anything from running, from Virgo and from Aries, it’s that the desire to do something, have something, be with someone is only an action when it’s put into motion, and also that motion can involve a lot of walking intervals.
The vibe is bullet journal.
The vibe is passion planner.
The vibe is Qi Gong.
The vibe is crying in the morning and an afternoon green tea.
The vibe is identifying a need and doing just one small, courageous thing that leads to that need being met.
I’ll be going out for a run; let me know what you’re doing.
If you want to dive deeper into what this Aries pile up means for your chart, you can book a reading with me.
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