Reflecting on my Personal Pisces Solar Eclipse Experience

(Mosaic Art – Grandma Moon Mosaics)

I spent the weekend with extended family in Big Bear – a ski town in southern California. It’s Southern-Californian’s version of a convenient snowy escape from the monotony of one, warm, sun-shiny, day after another.

The slopes were unusually crowded on Saturday. I hadn’t skied for a few seasons and dodging throngs of snowboarders was something I wanted to avoid. So we decided to get up very early on Sunday and head for the slopes. It had been snowing all night. As the Sun came up my nieces and nephews who’d never seen snow were outside making snow angels.

On Sunday we arrived set to ski before most, got into our gear, and waited for things to open up. There were no crowds. An initial trip down the bunny hill and a few trips down some easier, medium grade slopes, left me feeling that I might be back where I’d left off. Muscle memory is an amazing thing.

Backtrack to last week when an Aquarian friend and I met up to celebrate our birthdays in San Juan Capistrano. She and I were born on the same day – different year. We were commiserating about how all the astrology books associate Aquarians with groups but how group-averse we both were.

I’ve occasionally taught in group settings, but the informal group process is something I avoid at all costs. I’ve been on a few trips with friends. For me, trying to please everyone – coming to a group consensus about where to go, what to do, and when to do it – is a “just shoot me” type of experience.

So when we met up on Sunday with a group of relatives on the slopes I sensed the dreaded group decision making process taking shape and tried to figure out how to politely side-step it.

For awhile we stood at the top of a mountain trying to decide which route to take – the easier one, the slightly more challenging one, or the really challenging one. Someone suggested we ski down just far enough to peer over the edge – then discuss it further I assumed. The suggestions just kept on coming. Meanwhile the slopes were getting more crowded and I was getting colder.

Finally I said pointing to the very challenging one, “I think I’ll just go for it.” Surprisingly the others nodded in agreement and we were off.

Reflecting on that moment, I had to smile and made a mental note to share this with my “birthday friend.” Would I have jumped off a double black diamond suicide slope to avoid any more back and forth? It’s possible.

Relieved to be on my way, apparently without offending anyone, I skied ahead toward the edge and over. That turned out to be an “oh sh–” kind of moment. The snow was icy and the slope was much steeper than I’d expected. In a split second, thankfully every cell in my body came to life and kicked into high gear. My mind flipped into “laser-focus” mode. The full extent of my physical survival capacity received the wake-up call and responded beautifully.

Not that it was pretty. It wasn’t. I couldn’t slow down enough to feel fully under control. I weaved my way through downed snowboarders, over-correcting my position a few times, but miraculously managing to stay upright. My mind registered too many close calls to count. At one point I heard my ski clip a snowboard. The muscles in my legs were screaming. But I landed safely and glided to the restaurant for lunch.

It dawned on me that I was exhausted – not physically but mentally. My ability to focus felt depleted. I needed time to recover. I starred off into space for awhile. (Pisces)

The last time I saw a doctor – something I try to avoid about as much as the group decision-making process – I was generally instructed to slow down and pay more attention. Apparently I’m approaching an age where broken hips and shortened life spans are a real concern. This is why I avoid doctors. They give me new ideas in the form of new things to worry about. Essentially they give me ammunition to sustain an anxiety level I’m trying to diffuse.

Under a Pisces Eclipse triggering my 1st house, a physical injury would have made sense astrologically. Thankfully it was the opposite.

My tendency has been to obsess over my health often enough to interfere with any well established sense of inner peace. It’s an affliction that tends to disproportionately affect RN’s who’ve seen more than their share of bad outcomes. I tend to rely on my partner Michael for reassurance for everything from a hang-nail, to occasional heart palpitations, to various vague symptoms that come and go. I’ll admit whatever he says, no matter how reasonable and reassuring, is ineffective. But I continue to go through the motions.

He caught onto that awhile ago. Now he simply reminds me that no one gets out of here alive. His natal Moon/Pluto conjunction encourages that kind of precise cut through useless worry and wasted energy. He’s sensitive though and in my case tried his best to delay resorting to the unapologetically practical approach.

This weekend was a wake up call for me. Interestingly the Karmic Sabian symbol for this eighth degree of Pisces Solar Eclipse is “a wake-up call.” Too often I’ve experienced my physical body as simply a host for potential problems. But it feels like this personal eclipse experience might have the power to balance that distorted perspective. Hopefully a seed has been planted that will allow an unshakeable sense of inner peace to actually take root.

There is now fresh cause to be appreciative and in awe of how friendly, supportive, and quickly mobilized my physical self can be. Over the next couple weeks I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity to test the waters on my theory. Actually my left elbow feels a little tingly and weird right now. Cue the anxiety. So far it doesn’t appear to be gaining much traction. We’ll see. 🙂


  1. Carol Heubach:

    Holly, you have an unbelievable ability to write! I sure miss you and your expertise…happy belated birthday! Love you, Carol

    • Admin:

      Carol…My Friend 🙂 So good to hear from you and thanks so much for taking the time to comment on my site. Think of you often. And it always makes me smile. Great memories. Love, Holly

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