Red planet, blue planet

A computer rendering of Mars from the University of Colorado’s geological sciences department shows a vast ocean covering a third of the surface of the red planet. The imaging, based on surface data from nearly a decade of NASA and ESA orbiting missions, suggests a planet capable of life, an alternate view for what many consider to be a barren, angry planet. (It is, after all, named after the God of War and potentially capable of Martians who might vaporize us with a ray gun. Or eat our brains.)

I like this new view of Mars. The red planet plays a key role in my natal astrology chart: The Sun, Moon and Saturn in Aries (governed by Mars) ignite near the Piscean tip of my watery grand trine like a red hot horseshoe plunged into a barrel of cold water. Fiery me is impatient and unstoppable. Watery me is reclusive and serene. Together they forge balance: composure with impulse and eagerness with reserve. I’m glad to have this new image of Mars to reflect on when I’m feeling burnt (or soaked) from imbalance in my own life.

Science Daily’s article: Ancient Ocean May Have Covered Third of Mars

Watersphere finding me

I’ve been fascinated with the properties of water lately, especially since discovering a grand trine in my natal astrology chart a few months ago. Masuro Emoto’s work shows the effects of intention on water via images of the way the water crystallizes when frozen after treatment: beautiful words yield pretty crystals, ugly words forge a messy blob.

And the moon. The moon affects the tides and our bodies. We’re more energized when the moon is full, tired and cranky when it’s dark or waning. Fishermen and farmers know the balance of this, those working with the earth and creatures.

And water is tied to emotion. Rivers of tears flow when grief is heavy or anger goes unexpressed. Tears cleanse out toxins in the body and release them… after all, toxins are energetically bound by our lower and fear-based thoughts. This week, I discovered that writing helped me to release through tears quickly, that in writing out my grief I quickly acknowledged and released the pain of memory. The tears did not stay for long.

I breathe in a sigh of relief.