Here Saturn is in the Virgo, the sign of health, and I’ve got a cold. What’s that all about? Whenever the chickens come home to roost, Saturn is the one who brings them, plunking them down wherever you’re most likely to trip over them. And so here I am, with a runny nose and a tickly throat. I’m drinking cup after cup of herbal tea and honey, and thinking about all the ways that I ignore or neglect my body.

Some of my friends seem to be doing better with the earthy, mundane energy of Saturn in Virgo. A woman wrote me to tell me that she is experiencing newfound joy in simple tasks, like dusting off the mantle. I want to be like that too. I want to be wise and simple, I think, as I wad up another tissue and send it sailing to one side of the wastebasket.

Usually I start this column by making appreciative noises about all the natural beauty around me, and there is plenty of that. Something called autumn is here, something I haven’t seen in my eighteen years of living near the equator. There are beautiful red leaves clinging to the brick walls. (Could they be ivy?) There are bright red berries on the bushes. (Could they be holly?) I am botanically challenged, but I can enjoy them.

Or I could if I didn’t feel so rotten. By the way, Mars just entered Cancer, and Cancer is the fussiest sign in the zodiac. So, between that and all those Saturnine chickens of ill health, it’s no wonder that I am complaining a lot here.

Mars will be in Cancer for the next three months, since it’s slowing down to go retrograde. So we all might as well gather up all our reserves of sympathy and compassion. Luckily, we’ll all have lots of both. Perhaps “reserves” is not the word. Cancer is a sign that can wail, cry, rant and rave with the best of them, and with Mars in Cancer, these talents are activated.

Everyone is going to be more tender, and more tender-hearted. Everyone is going to be more attached to whatever makes them feel good, and more cranky about what makes them feel bad. There will be more cute pictures of puppies on the Internet. People will dust off their “Home Sweet Home” samplers and stick them back on the wall, tossing away the rap music posters. It’s going to get gooey, friends.

At the new moon in October – on the 10th – we’ll all experience these two divergent influences. On the one hand, there’s the bare-bones simplicity of Saturn in Virgo. On the other hand, there’s the sentiment and sensitivity of Mars in Cancer. Saturn in Virgo tells us to get to work, but with Mars in Cancer, we have to check in with all our feelings, both emotional and physical.

Venus, planet of love and delight, will be deserting her sybaritic pleasures, and joining Saturn in Virgo. Yes, the Goddess of Love, instead of handing out goodies, instead of reveling in pleasure, beauty and romance, will be hanging out with the Crone. She’ll be making do with less, and of course, if anybody can do this elegantly, she can. We’ll all see a lot of gorgeous candelabra created with old tire irons.

This sounds to me like Mars in Cancer has a lot to complain about. Sniff. I wish I had some chocolate.

But wait! This is the Libra new moon. It’s all about balance. Balance. In lieu of chocolate, I start to unwrap another cough drop, and then think better of it. Balance.

I don’t know if I’ll get to a point when I’ll welcome all the homecoming fowl, and tell them, “Hey, roost anywhere!” I don’t know if I’ll ever stop sniffling and crabbing. But I do have this shining archetypal example in the Libra new moon, telling me not to try to do it all at once.

So Saturn in Virgo wants perfection, and Venus in Virgo is chiming in with lots of advice on the joys of minimalism. So Mars in Cancer feels deprived. The new moon in Libra says, “Neither one nor the other.” I don’t have to lose myself completely into my feelings, a mass of sensitive nerve-endings, craving nothing but comfort. I don’t have to dedicate myself to a plain, useful, austere life. I can be somewhere between the two.

And since this is where I usually am anyway, maybe it’s okay. I drink some cool water. It feels good.

Index of Jenny Yates' Writings on Lesbian.com