Firewalking

30th April 2010, Glastonbury, 10 pm, and I’m looking at the bed of glowing coals in front of me. We had spent the day watching huge piles of wood being reduced to these fiery embers and now it was my turn to walk across them in bare feet. Earlier in the day I had wished my bemused teaching colleagues a happy May Day and then left the school to walk on hot coals. They had come to expect strange things from me.

I look again at the shimmering, sparkling coals in front of me, so hot I know they would burn a hole in my hand if I were to pick

them up. I can't imagine the agony if I were to be burned on the bottom of my feet and my fear makes me take a step back to let another walker go ahead of me. I watch as her feet turn to a glowing orange and her steps kick up fire: she has become a Firewalker. And whilst I remain a petrified watcher, I cannot join her in this achievement. This moment is about overcoming fear, brushing away life’s cobwebs and affirming what one can do in life. 

Symbolically I felt this fiery ground represented the threshold from fear to faith. It was a journey I felt compelled to do for reasons that had completely escaped me as I stared at what could only be described as Hellish. 

And what the Hell was I doing taking such a crazy risk? Transiting Pluto opposed my natal Mars--it was such a perfect transit for the paralysis that had overcome me at that moment. And it would be ideal symbol of spending several weeks in wheelchair with badges on my feet if I got burned.

The Moon that night was in Sagittarius conjunct Antares, the baleful Heart of the Scorpion and it was in trine to Mars in fiery Leo which was in turn conjunct my natal Mercury. I looked up at the Moon and remembered She opposed Venus along the ascendent/descendent axis of my natal chart. I felt the heavens were calling on me, as a women, to embrace the boldness of The Masculine.

It was time to step into the fire or step into the shadows forever. I locked my mind in the Faith of divine goodness and walked on the fire in front of me. And at the end of Hell, there was no pain or scars to remind me of my journey. I was a Phoenix.

Just to prove to myself I could do it, I did it a second time.

This was not the end of the the extraordinary weekend.

The next day was May Day, 1st of May and it would be a day that I danced with the Green Man, sang with the Devil, drank beer with the May Queen - and walked up Glastonbury Tor to watch children dance around the May Pole and clap as Morris Dancers pranced about with their sticks and hankies: where I had embraced the masculine the night before, they were embracing the feminine. At least that was how I saw it.

Of course all magic has to end (so I thought) and as I boarded the bus to leave Glastonbury and return to the real world, I wondered

how I could bring the magic back. The bus journey gave me a chance to  reflect on my life's journey. I had come a long way from the divorced, nearly bankrupt woman with 3 children and no job. I had just moved into my new house with my new partner, I had a coveted Master's degree and a secure job in teaching and was enjoying a completely different life--one I had not dared to believe could actually happen.

These details were far too personal to share with my pupils. I guarded my private life carefully. Even as I turned the key to enter

my own home, I still did not have a clue as to how I could share my extraordinary experience. I was the kind of teacher who liked to know what she was going to do well in advance.

The next morning when I got to school, I saw that I had chosen the word "Euphoria" as the theme for the week. It had been chosen weeks before but what better word to describe how I was feeling? I asked my colleagues to share some of their more adventurous experiences such as running marathons or jumping out of planes and I used them in the assembly I had to lead. Then I showed the

pupils the photo of me walking on hot goals. There was an audible gasp from the otherwise unimpressed group of fourteen year olds.

‘Miss, you’re really a sick Gangsta!’ one pupil shouted out.

But that night of fire walking was not about me but rather what I could do--and if I could do it, I wanted my pupils to know they could also do extraordinary things (but please not fire walk when I'm on duty).

This past May bank holiday 2016, gave me an opportunity to remember Firewalking. I hadn't noticed on the night but transit Saturn had opposed my natal Saturn. And if you're familiar with my Growing Pains work, then you know how significant I think Saturn oppositions are. This week transiting retrograde Saturn has been squaring my natal Uranus/Pluto conjunction and my Progressed Sun and Mercury. And I just been feeling things have ground to a complete halt (I also note Saturn was retrograde in the event chart too!). I should have been preparing for my move to India but I was spending this time untangling myself from a long term relationship, raising a bit of cash to fund a long year of travelling ahead and finding my own voice. Indeed, this article had originally been written by my partner. It has been an empowering experience to go through it and change his words to mine. I cannot even say why I let him do this as this story has been the only one I had let someone else write.

I lost my friend Jonathan Cainer a few days ago. He was more than just an astrologer to me and I am grateful I have not had to grieve alone. As a group of mutual friends gathered on the first sunset of Jon's passing, we shared our stories about him. I remarked that he was like Jupiter with a gravitational force that was impossible to escape. And as I wrote my tribute for him for the Astrological Journal, I was reminded that Jon had been a huge part of the process of transforming a bit of space junk into someone who had achieved things far beyond the limitations of her wishes. It was Jon who told me that I needed to be in a classroom and I am just humbled by the mechanics of Saturn transits that I started my PGCE in October 2002 as Saturn was in a waxing square to its natal position in my chart, that another square from that point I was Firewalking and with any bit of luck, at the next square at the end of 2017, I'll be doing something even more spectacular. 

But I now see it is time for me to get to grips with letting go of my life here in London. For a few weeks I had been just marking time. But now I am finally moving forward.

Hot Alex

For May Day weekend, I made my way to Glastonbury to--wait for it--walk on hot coals. It just seemed like such a primeval thing to do--and very appropriate for Beltane. Anyway, here's what it looked like before the fire:

Here it is burning:

Here is the path, ready for walking:

And me:


If you'd like to go firewalking, I highly recommend that you contact my friends Max and Lisa at:
Wizard Well Being

And now, in honour of Beltane a little Mars conjunct Saturn in 8th house joke:
A man goes to a doctor and is interviewed by a female consultant.
"What's the problem?" she asks.
"I can't tell you," he said.
"Why not?"
"Oh, you'll just laugh like everyone else."
"Look," she says, "I'm a professional. I've seen everything and in my 20 years in the medical profession, I have never laughed."
"OK," the man says, pulling down his trousers and pants. He turned to the nurse, revealing the smallest penis she had ever seen. It was about the size of a AAA battery. The female consultant felt the corners of her mouth twitch, then she completely lost control. She threw her head back and roared with laughter.
"I'm so sorry!" she said between guffaws. "I don't know what came over me. What's the problem?"
He said: "It's swollen!"

Hawkwind!

Blogger has given me an unbelievable amount of grief but I'm back!

For the first time ever, I even managed to complete 2 Astrology Quarterlies. I am so pleased with myself.

I'm also doing another MA and in the throes of finishing my first paper. Why another MA? Because my education hasn't put me in enough debt! Not really. My school asked if I wanted to do and MA in education if they paid for it and I said "yes please!".
So what else is new?

Well, I now have red hair (the greys were freaking me out) and I've just managed to choke down a dose of Chinese medicine. I've also found some very nice photos taken at the Big Green Gathering a few years ago of the band Hawkwind! What a group!





We were just standing around in this hot old marquee and suddenly, everyone was on their feet dancing! It was such a great moment of letting the music take over one's mind, body and spirit.

Of course, it can't be like that all the time and we have to do a bit more concentrating. So, if I have to return to work (because I wasn't smart enough to go to the US for spring break), you, gentle reader, can put up with a little saturn in the 3rd house joke!

A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?", they asked, as they moved
off. "Because," he said, "I can't stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer."

Best pun ever

In honour of Neptune transiting my Natal Venus, a little Gandhi joke.

Gandhi never wore shoes and as a result, he had quite awful bunions. As an enlightened guru, he also didn't eat much and his body was frequently weakened from hunger. Because his digestion often played up, he sufferened from (or rather others suffered from) very bad breath. So, in short, Gandhi was a super-calloused, fragile, mystic, hexed by haliotosis!

Sink or Swim

Arrrggghhhh!

What a month at school: Saturday tuitions, Parents' Evenings, Options Evenings, a lesson observation, APP folders (don't ask what APP means--boring teacher lingo) and I'm doing FAS exams and an MA in education (because I just don't have enough post graduate certificates that I've gone into debt for to admire).

Oh and the Q is due. . .

As they say, sink or swim.

*blowing up water wings*

The last time I felt so pressurised was when I was doing the dissertation for the MA in CAA. Which reminds me. . .

Above is a picture of us Sophia Centre graduates sharing a meal at UAC in Denver: There's Mary, Brook, Nick Campion, Branka, James, Chris, me and Alice. Don't we look sweet and innocent?

In honour of the time honoured tradition of "when it rains, it pours" so you might as well make a little dance of it, here's a very special Neptune cj Mars in the 12th house joke for over achievers everywhere:

Two eskimos are in a kayak. They get cold and so decide to light a fire. Of course, the kayak sinks. So you see, this really does prove you can't have your kayak and heat it too. . .

Club of 27

Whilst sorting through some files on my computer, I came across this one of us from "The Club of 27". That's Neil Spencer, John Etherington, Andrew Morton, Nick and me. This seems like such a long time ago! Anyway, shortly afterwards, we were featured in Astrologus, the Serbian astrology magazine. Here we are admiring ourselves (I think Andrew looks like a very contented cat!):

Speaking of cats, my cat, Mr Bubbles is doing a lot better. He's putting on weight and is back to demanding that we stroke him and spoil him.

Anyway, as you undoubtedly know, the Club of 27 is about those who have left this earth at the tender age of 27: Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Kurt Cobain and Jimi Hendrix.

In honour of the dearly departed but not forgotten here's a very special Pluto in the 8th house joke:

A vulture gets on a plane carrying two dead raccoons. The flight attendant says: "Sorry sir, only 1 carrion item allowed."

Poor Bubbles!

My darling furry boy kept throwing up and stopped eating a couple of weeks ago so I took him to the vet. His brother Perseus was also sick but was recovering. The vet gave the boys some shots and sent us on our way with some antibiotics. Poor Bubbles kept getting sicker and sicker and skinnier and skinnier! So I took him back to the vet--who couldn't find anything wrong. As Bubbles wasn't eating, he had to go on a drip (see the poor thing, above).

Well, one day, the vet saw loads of cotton thread coming out of Bubbles' little butt and figured it was time to operate! After a four hour operation (which the vet didn't think he'd survive), Bubbles had an awful lot of cottom untangled from his intestines. The vet showed me the thread--and I recognised it from my sewing kit which is zipped up and out of kitty cat sight. Or so I thought. When I got home, I checked--and there was a completely empty spool of the thread I used to sew buttons on my daughter's school uniform!

Arrrrggggggg! Anyway, Bubbles did survive. Here's an updated photo:

He's still as skinny as a mink but he's slowly putting weight back on. He has a big old scar on his stomach so now we call him "Franken-Bubbles".

It's amazing how stressed out we get over our pets!

In (dis)honour of string, here's a little Neptune in the sixth house joke for sick kitties:

A piece of string goes into the bar and yells: "Oi!! Barman! Give me a drink!" The barman picks up the string and throws him into the street.

Thirsty, the string sits down to think of what he's going to do to get a drink. Suddenly, he comes up with a cunning plan. he's going to disguise himself! So he contorts himself into a completely
different shape and frizzes his hair into an afro. He goes back into the bar, hops up on the barstool and smiles sweetly at the bartender.

The bartender says: "You're that piece of string I threw out 5 minutes ago!"

The string says: "No, I'm a frayed knot!"