The autumn of my discontent
I hate fall. I know you people love it, and I do not begrudge your delights. I understand the appeal:
Sweaters
Sweaters and shorts
Respite from a three-shower-per-diem schedule
Pumpkin spice everything
Sunsets at a reasonable hour
Crisp air
The rich palette of turning leaves
Plaid
Vests (for the vest people)
A spooky, sexy charge in the air
I am not immune to the charms enumerated above—except vests—but none of them soothes the dread that attends this season. It’s downright sinister. Fall is the beginning of the end. It reeks of decline. The delicious, vibrant, pulsing juiciness of summer—we continue to honor the elusive panzanella salad—has been squeezed dry, and we entomb ourselves in cashmere as we shuffle, brittle and shivering, toward the final slumber of winter. Fall is not death—it is dying.
The sun is said to be in a state of “fall” in Libra season, which kicks off with the autumnal equinox. The pun is unintentional but fucking perfect. In this context, fall means “flat on your ass.” A planet or celestial body in its fall is in its most humilitating, destabiling posture. It is utterly effaced and does not wish to be seen. It needs a minute. The sun in its fall is forced to realize that for all its glory throughout the year, it must eventually answer to its own end. (Winter, in a way, is a lighter season because it represents imagination liberated from the oppressive consciousness that death is always coming for us.)
The despicable irony is that the condition of dying implies that we are alive. The worst part about dying—which we are doing at all moments, I realize—is that we have to live through it. Living and dying are, I am so sad to say it, the same thing. And I never have to know it as much as I do this time of year.
Horoscopes for the next few days
All times are Eastern Daylight Time (EDT) because I live in New York.
Note: These will be okay but not great. I wrote great ones that I accidentally copied-and-pasted out of existence, never to be recovered.
Tuesday, 9.26.23
Oh no, the moon is void of course all day from 8:38 a.m. to 8:18 p.m. In case you need a quick refresher, when the moon is “void of course,” it is in a weakened state, similar to being in retrograde. The moon is one of the most important governing celestial bodies—it guides our emotions, it represents our relationship with our mothers, it sits closest to us in the sky, and it changes all the time. It’s a little much. So when it’s void of course, it feels like a downer. It can be depressing and unproductive. We can feel stuck. It’s the opposite of a flow state.
Now, I was born with my moon void of course, so I know how to navigate it. As with retrogrades, it is not a time to start anything new. The thing to do is surrender to the moodiness and look inward. Tend to yourself like a little babe. Practice self-care, but not the indulgent variety—the harder stuff. Clean your bathtub. Go through your papers. Re-read a book you may have abandoned. Going back is the only way forward.
Wednesday, 9.27.23
Not much going on, I am relieved to report.
The Pisces moon makes a friendly aspect to lucky Jupiter in Taurus at 7:46 p.m. If you wanted to go out, be social, and do something fun, you have a green light from the zodiac, and you will probably have a delightful time. Take me with you.
Thursday, 9.28.23
Again, the moon is void of course from 4:58 p.m. to 8:17 p.m. It’s not all day, but it is annoying. Don’t make plans or take important calls during that window. Unimportant calls only!
At 1:54 p.m.—before the void—the moon and Neptune are conjunct in Pisces. The moon and Neptune both rule over emotional, watery signs (Cancer and Pisces, respectively), and the fact that they are hanging out together in one of those very signs means this is an optimal afternoon for any creative, artistic, or relational endeavors. A casual comment about the weather1 could easily become an hour-long heart-to-heart—be open to that.
Friday, 9.29.23
We have a full moon in Aries that peaks at 5:58 a.m. Aries is my favorite sign for all the reasons I struggle with Libra—it concurs with the vernal equinox, i.e., spring, the season of life and hope and major sex appeal. Full moons, as many of you already know, are typically challenging events. They release tension and precipitate endings, closure. They disrupt what needs to be disrupted and set us on a path of healing. It’s stressful. But this lunation does not come with a lot of baggage. It may feel less like an interrogation spotlight and more like a warm beam of supportive energy. Regardless, I know I’m going to enjoy the catharsis of this moon because it will be as far away from the fall season—Libra—as astrologically possible. That will bring me peace.
At 1:53 p.m., Venus in Leo and Uranus in Taurus are irritated with each other. Venus rules over everything aesthetic, valuable, and romantic, while Uranus barges in to upset the status quo in favor of progress. Each are lovely in their own right, but when they bring out the worst in each other, it can make us reevaluate everything we love and cherish. You may want to get ahead of it and start asking those questions now.
Saturday, 9.30.23
The moon is once again void of course—of course! This time from 5:50 p.m. to 9:18 p.m., which isn’t so much time, but significant enough to make an impact.
Having said that, there are some glamorous aspects happening before it all goes down. First, the Aries moon is making a perfect angle to Leo Venus at 10:08 a.m., which ignites a pure spark of creative or romantic energy. If you were not already planning to be inspired that day—well, you should always be planning for that.
Then at 12:55 p.m., Mercury in Virgo and Uranus in Taurus are making another perfect angle, this time gifting us with both mental clarity and verbal dexterity. Mercury and Uranus have a lot in common; they are both cerebral, inventive, and chaotic. Together, in a trine—which is the most harmonious aspect possible—they create the conditions for a powerful moment of communication. Whether its a presentation or an essay or a roast, the impact will be felt. I hope it’s a roast, and best of luck to your subject.
Sunday 10.1.23
The moon is exalted2 in Taurus, which should make for a relaxed, luxurious Sunday. I may book a spa trip to take advantage and suggest you do the same.
This sweet moon is also conjunct Jupiter at 9:37 p.m., which is a lucky time. Perhaps a late-night dash to buy a Lotto ticket? I may actually do that, if for no other reason than it will please my mother.
As we learned in the opening of this newsletter, the weather is not such a surface-level topic!
Remember earlier when I said the sun was in its fall in Libra? All the planets and luminaries have different composures in different signs, and the moon happens to have its happiest placement—exaltation—in Taurus. When a celestial body is exalted, it is treated like a special guest and finds the red carpet rolled out for it. The exalted condition creates ease and enhances power. So a moon in Taurus is an emotionally stable, well-resourced moon. If you were born with this placement, congratulations, you have objectively the best moon.