Chiron Stations Retrograde, July 11, 2020 - Wound

Category: Astrological News Thursday, 09 July 2020 Written by Cristina Views: 1150

I am a firm proponent of rage as a tool for self-inquiry, re-wilding, liberation. Rage as an internal love language. This comes from my first-hand experience of having Mars in Aries in a night chart. And I believe that, much in the same way rage protects us and pushes us to stay alive and heal ourselves and save ourselves, we have a duty to set rage free. That same rage that has been shamed, pathologized and stigmatized — feminine, womanly rage, in special mode —, pushed down, suppressed, condemned to swell and roil in the secluded chambers of the collective unconscious.

Rage is to our Soul what inflammation is to the physical body. It’s perhaps not a coincidence that, this year, Chiron’s retrograde station, on July 11, happens at 9°26 Aries in conjunction with Mars and the Moon: while Mars and Aries are a highly flammable pair, with the Lord of war and strife and protector of victims being in his own domicile, the Moon was thought of as the significator of the human body in ancient astrology.

Inflammation is a response to harmful stimuli. It’s our body’s way of saying: I’ve had enough. I’ve been hurt. But I refuse. I reject. I resist. I do not consent to this.

And yet, inflammation can also result in fatigue, especially in the case of chronic inflammatory diseases. If you’ve been following me for a while, you may have heard me talking about my experience with stage 3 endometriosis before. I often feel exhausted right before a flare-up occurs, which is why I am grateful everyday for the possibility of working from the comfort of my home.

The line between liberating ourselves through anger and being drained and weakened by our anger is sometimes thin and perilous. And 2020 gave us plenty of reasons to rage, which I don’t think I need to list here. Both on a collective and personal level — and many, many times at the intersection of the two. Fatigue might be setting in. Disillusionment, even, after hashtags stop trending and our social media feeds return to normal and we’re left wondering, does society view outrage as nothing more than a performance. Because those who know rage intimately, know that it’s a fire that burns ceaselessly, sometimes to the point of consuming you from within, but its touch doesn’t leave you unscathed, not in the presence of hurts that cannot be undone.

So, while the Centaur slows to a halt and looks back — in anger —, we might want to ask ourselves: what do we really need, in this moment, to mitigate the burn? In which ways allowing ourselves to express rage, to refuse and to resist brought us closer to self-awareness? Where does it hurt, and how can that raw, tender spot be soothed by the balm of introspection and self-awareness, by giving ourselves a break, by glancing at the gaping wound whose blood feeds the roots of our rage?

If we find that we have crossed that line between fierce self-preservation or passionate dedication to justice, and burnout or fatigue, this might be the time for a truce, for tending to our battle scars without and for addressing the battles within.

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