Pisces plays the mandolin and wears sky blue shirts that smell like lavender or sometimes roses. When he visits, you might hear snow melting. Tulips and daffodils poke their heads above ground to greet him, while starlings dream of their future: finding a soul mate, nest-building, teaching their young to fly. Pisces’ mother used to worry about him. He’d spend long hours alone in his room. Whenever she pressed her ear to the door, holding a bowl of soup or grilled cheese sandwiches, she would hear strange voices, sometimes sobbing, maybe a violin, or a trilling bird. One year he drew a thousand portraits of clouds. Next year he took up face painting, until every kid in the neighborhood had become twelve fantastic animals. The year after that he spoke just one word: “Ah.” He studied poetry and took long naps in college. Later he tried the corporate world, but missed too many meetings. One day he kidnapped the shipping department and took them to a matinee just before Fed-Ex arrived.
Pisces says that life’s too short and there’s important non-work to do. “Each day listen to your desires and follow them exclusively. That’s the wisdom of flow.” I’m suspicious: “How would anything get done?” His eyes grow wide and mirthful, as if to say “You’ll see when you finally try it!” I’d like to, for when I spend time with Pisces, my worries exhaust into a peaceful sigh, like petals releasing from a tired rose. At night Pisces tells me to sit in a dark room with a single candle for at least two hours. If I stay there long enough, I don’t know who I am anymore. Yet my heart grows as big as the world.
Let your heart likewise expand this cycle. Let your imagination run free. Business can take care of itself. The cherry trees are in bloom. You might be yearning for a little poetry or the delicious escape of a movie marathon. You may get lost in the sound of a symphony or the gentle touch of silk. Can you let yourself drift and dream? Soon enough the Equinox will be calling you to action. Next month brings the Warrior’s New Moon. Prepare now by first drawing closer to your soul.
If you stir dirt into a glass of water, it gets murky. But if the glass sits for awhile, the dirt will settle and the water will clear. Something similar happens to the mind in meditation, which is another fine way to meet this New Moon. Sit. Come to stillness. Wait at Pisces’ door like an initiate at the gates of a great teacher. Without expectations, enter the void. This is the end of the zodiac; all signs are contained within it. Perhaps you can sense this, how harmoniously Pisces holds everything and dissolves everything, how this readies us for the Aries adventures to come.
Of course, no matter how dreamy we might like our lives to be, there’s always some unpleasantness. Sure as there are fairies making everything right, there are complainers making everything wrong. How do we respond? Pisces can inspire our most saintly self—or our most victimized. When you’re unconscious of its gifts, Pisces will make you whine: “Poor me!” or “Why me?” Remember that unhappy dinner last night? Maybe the sesame chicken was too dry. Maybe the salad dressing was bottled instead of fresh. Or maybe your dinner date never showed up. Pisces only wants you to understand that everything was just perfect.
Waiting for Pisces to appear is the fun part. No way can I predict his costume. But if you find yourself wandering into rooms for reasons you forgot, if you feel the urge to float for hours in the bathtub, or to take a long drive to nowhere, Pisces may be present, trying to get you to pause, listen, and come into this moment, where he promises you’ll find everything. Pay attention to your nightly dreams. Listen to your daytime fantasies. These are the expressions of your soul. Can you read their language? In the weeks ahead, you might find yourself suddenly weeping, overwhelmed with compassion, for the orphans in Kabul, the Libyan widow, the bankrupt yoga teacher, or the tense soldier prowling volatile streets on the other side of the world. This cycle may we all find, on our fragile spinning globe some grace, some power, the hand of sweet guidance. Call it faith or hope; both belong to Pisces. And let’s join with Swami Beyondananda in his prayer to the hot dog vendor: “Make me one with everything.”
Soon the Sun enters Aries–it’s a new season! This is an excellent time to feed your soul the sky stories in your chart for 2019. Order Steven Forrest’s Skylog report. If you’re within three months of your birthday (before or after), Mary Shea’s Solar Return report is a delightful way to complete the picture.