Post-Eclipse Emotional Backdrop Transformations and What the Crab Can No Longer Deny

We're on the other side of the third set of eclipses on the Cancer/Capricorn polarity, which began in the Summer of 2009, and our underlying foundational emotional realities have officially shifted. What it means to call this planet home (however temporarily we call it that) has shifted.

Previously held safe havens - both physical and emotional - have evaporated into thin air. Bulldozed unceremoniously. Razed to the ground or poisoned beyond the point of being habitable.

With the Sun in late Cancer, we can see quite clearly (for those who wish to look) that the complete transformation of the energy of that sign is deeply underway, acted upon relentlessly by the unearthing of stark collective realities from the other end of the spectrum and Pluto in Capricorn.

As a Scorpio stellium in the 4th house, life taught me up to now that no matter what hell scenes existed around me and no matter how tumultuous my emotional reactions to those scenes, there was a safe haven deep inside me that was always there. I was always connected to it and all I had to do was go inside to feel it, know it. To know that I was connected to something much bigger than this single life on this planet.

And then I was slipped poison by the Nazis at Big Pharma. They penetrated that safe haven and attacked right to the core, right to that safe place where I could previously calm and still myself. And that place was turned into a nightmarish hell zone, reflecting exactly what was and is going on externally all over this planet.

This scene, I think, is indicative of a broader process going on. As Pluto razes and (hopefully) resurrects our entire structural reality on this planet over the next decade-and-a-half, the opposite sign of Cancer is inextricably linked to that process and will come out of the Plutonic alchemical fires no less changed.

The crab can only retreat so far - its natural inclination. At the point that the external threat penetrates it's shell, it's home, it's body, it's self, it must take action. Cancer is a cardinal sign after all. But a security-clinging cardinal sign. A sign that must be poked and prodded into action in a lot of ways. A sign that seems to only take action when it is absolutely forced to.

And its lack of action up until this point has been fully complicit with the horrors being wrought by the corrupt power structures around this planet.

Socially privileged parents living in safe, little bubbles. Believing, falsely, that the very act of producing their precious offspring warrants them safety and security somehow above and beyond the other members of this planet.

Maintaining the false understanding that the soldiers, the police, the governments, the rules, the banks, the money are "keeping them and their's safe." Protecting the sanctity of these nuclear family bubbles. Feathering the nests. Their Cancerian shells.

Or maybe not truly believing that, but going along with it all the same.

Happy to paint pictures with the kids, make mud pies in the yard, to shut out any unpleasantness, to keep it "out there."

While soldiers are killing, irradiating, and destroying the families of people in other parts of the world. Keeping them safe. While soldiers themselves are being killed, irradiated, destroyed "keeping them safe."

While more than 1,000 peaceful demonstrators in Toronto are brutalized, strip searched, strangled, mocked, threatened, tossed into unmarked vans and illegally detained by police for hours on end. Cordoned off by police officers and then illegally forced to provide identification and have their bags searched in order to leave the area. Lied to by police and city officials about supposed new rules that allow these breaches of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

The "protected" obediently train their eyes on agents provocateur on the payroll to break windows and stage violence and light purposefully abandoned police cars on fire. They snuggle in with the kiddies in front of the telly as martial law "keeps them safe." They watch United States Marine Corps helicopters flying over Canadian airspace and feel all warm and fuzzy that they're being taken care of on all fronts.

Separating themselves from the mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers peacefully protesting the murderous tyranny of the world governments.

Separating themselves from the mothers giving birth to children deformed from exposure to depleted uranium or Agent Orange or any number of chemical weapons. Even when it's mothers in their own country. That's them. This is us.

Driving SUVs to and from soccer practises, art lessons, play dates, all the while cluck clucking and tsk tsking about what's going on in the Gulf.

Filling swimming pools and watering lawns to outdo neighbours and golfing every Saturday. While three billion people don't have enough clean water to drink to keep themselves healthy. While Palestinians are slowly being tortured by thirst.

Doesn't matter what Daddy (or Mummy) does from 9 to 5 every day as long as there is money to support this (slowly rotting) dream. Mortgage scams, Ponzi schemes, poisonous oil regimes, toxic pharmaceuticals companies, crooked stock markets. Doesn't matter who the employer is as long as the income keeps streaming in. No questions asked. As long as they get their two days off per week in their little bubbles, it doesn't matter a good Goddamn what goes on the other five days.

So very separated, so very detached. That's them. This is us.

A false protection offered them on a silver platter through the destruction of the sanctity of browner, blacker, poorer families all around the world.

The false Cancerian world of precious pure white babies, birthday parties with bouncy castles, designer strollers filled with bored-looking toddlers.

We all know Johnson & Johnson as the baby corporation. What most people probably don't know is that it produces the most heinous and toxic fluoroquinolone antibiotic, Levaquin. This drug has destroyed the lives of thousands of people now struggling to recover from complete systemic poisoning.

And yet, the mothers on the advertisements keep smiling down on their lovely little tots, scrubbed clean with No More Tears shampoo and Head-to-Toe baby wash.

No one can scrub this shit clean.

Toxic rains are being reported in Ohio and Tennessee and Miami.

Our home has been penetrated. Our Earth. Our selves.

It seems to me we should have moved on long ago. To the new spaces that full awareness bring. But the clinging, the holding, the denial has stopped us from that.

There is only so far Cancerian denial can take us. We're at the Do Not Pass Go point.

The natural inclinations, the natural rhythms have been purposefully, poisonously disrupted. Weather patterns are being manipulated and so are the underlying energetic patterns related to being a natural human being.

To continue as if nothing is amiss at this point becomes more and more insane.

We see the fishermen of the Gulf coast trying to keep their life rhythms, the only rhythms they've ever known. The rhythms ingrained through generations. And the farmers attempt the same thing.

We see Gulf fishermen going out to sea now, allowing themselves to be employed by devils who have destroyed their ways of life. And they're getting sick. Just as the clean-up crews of the Exxon Valdez spill got sick. Many later died.

BP has denied the clean-up workers respirators or full protective gear as it would be bad for PR. Ha. Add this to their crimes against humanity, just as the conspirators and perpetrators of 9/11 can add the sickness and deaths of thousands of rescue workers who breathed in toxic dust in New York City to their list.

And then there is the long-term social deterioration. The divorces, bankruptcies, suicides. Just ask the people along Prince William Sound, Alaska. Twenty-one years later, they are still bearing the brunt of it.

The rhythms are rapidly, unnaturally changing, and we must be aware of the full extent of it.

There's a deep primal knowledge trying to surface. We have to dig way down to find it. It's the thinnest of threads at this point, dragging us out of the muck but only if we hang on for dear life and follow its lead to a tee.

Accepting this mess is not easy - especially for those who have worked their entire lives to try to head this off. We didn't. We couldn't. And now we have to remember Plan B. We have to remember why we agreed to be here for this, what our end of the deal is. And complete it.