At first I’d just hang up on them without even saying hello.
Then I rounded up all the phones in the house and buried them underneath 3 pillows and a comforter.
It was the only way I could stop the phone from ringing, the telemarketers from calling.
I did it so quickly, so deliberately, so vindictively…it felt like murder.
At least now I can think.

Was that the precise moment I put my finger on the 3rd house Pluto transit experience?

Or maybe it was when I opened my mouth to speak. To my husband in an intimate moment, and proceeded to bring up all his fears (a reflection of my own), keeping us both awake into wee morning hours playing out doomsday scenarios: what if you fell in love with someone else? Did I meet someone new at the retreat last week? Do you still find me attractive? Some might say I made that bed in advance, but I’ll tell you what, I’m just thinking and speaking. That’s my experience. Sure, my thoughts are intense: about death, attachment, loss and preparing for “the next curve ball” coming my way. But Pluto creeps up on you slowly, so I’m just getting started.

And I’ll give a shout out to my Aries Moon for that one. Cause she just got all excited. She’s the figure in me that gets all jacked up on adrenaline, as it circulates her bloodstream like some crazy caffeinated drink. She senses shifting energy and senses a fight ahead. Maybe it’s the fight of her life, who knows? I’ve done it before, she reasons (making the classic Moon blunder of mistaking a past emotional experience, in this case, emergency survival mode for a perfectly rational response). We’ve got to be ready for anything. She runs for her uniform (an edgy punk outfit, a cross between Joan of Arc and Joan of Arcadia) popping stress B vitamins, thinking maybe she should look into meditation, this time for real. My little Moon has an amplified, survivor mentality response to well, everyday stress. When I’m in Moon mode, I embody a missing Survivor castaway. I run in from the jungle, camera-ready, outfitted with machete, blood pumping.

Perhaps I’m scaring you. I’m sensing the process will be a challenge on all levels.

I swear, Officer, I had to suffocate those phones so I could get a lick of writing done.

That said, as long as I keep the objects inanimate, I’d call it a creatively healthy response.

Perhaps I first experienced Pluto when we found out the leak in the middle of the city owned road was ours and therefore our responsibility to repair. And seeing as how our 80 year old plumbing pipe runs 200 feet up a hill, under at least two other houses it will eventually cost us unlimited amounts of money. The plumber came out to appraise the situation and gave me the rundown which went like this: you’re screwed. Oh and you’re screwed. Did I mention you’re screwed? He didn’t even have to say it. I already knew. I had sensed the inevitable doom of an elaborate and financially consuming project (Pluto is my financial 2nd house ruler). So we had it temporarily patched, and I’m concerned. I worry the pipe will burst when Pluto finally comes a knocking, first at my natal Pluto, then, Mars, then Sun in my chart.

I ask the Plumber/Pluto how long we have. “A year,” said he.

That sounds about right.

Let’s clarify: this isn’t a matter of astrology’s potential for doomsday fortune telling…if that were the case I’d say ignorance really is bliss…As with all planets, it starts with a feeling inside, something shifts. When the shift hits the fan, it helps to have a planet to work it out with. I know that Pluto is the good guy with my personal interests at heart (the lump has a heart). From what I understand about his nature, the Pluto years will be a time of what Steven Forrest deems “soul destiny retrieval.” I will be moved closer to the soul of my being. My Aries Moon says gleefully, like a crazed cheerleader, bring it on.

And my sane self whispers: Pluto, be gentle on me.