Starcatsastrology’s Blog

Forecast – Monday’s Ode On Melancholy — This Too Shall Pass!

AstroNote: Next New Moon – April 24, 2009 at 6 Taurus!

Sabian Symbol “Cantilever Bridge Across A Deep Gorge”
A time to bridge gaps, mend breaches, connect opposing ideas into new synthesis, crossing the great water, bridge over troubled waters, link between unconscious and conscious thought patterns.

Today’s party on Sagittarius Moon in square to “get serious, get busy” Saturn is a hard dilemma to solve, but by this evening, I suspect Saturn will get the upper hand allowing you to settle down and get focused for the rest of the week.

The mood may grow more somber as the day moves on, but unless you find magic in meloncholy reading Keats’s famous ode, it might be better to sooth the gentle soul tonight by curling up with a good mystery novel or watching Hugh Laurie (Gemini, June 11, 1959) on the iconic tv series HOUSE. Laurie has the mental trickster Mercury in opposition to serious Saturn. This opposition is a key player in the well-known fact that Mr. Laurie has suffered and been treated for clinical depression several times in his life. His dramatic Leo Moon in conjunction with erratic, Uranus can make for an extravagant display of mood swings.

Both of the aforementioned aspects also inform his brilliance as an actor. The Mercury-Saturn helps him focus and lends discipline. The Moon-Uranus gives him range and the ability to suddenly shift moods bringing sudden twists and turns (depth) to his famous tv role as Dr. House.

My next door neighbor will be appearing in the season finale of HOUSE (nope, no plot spoilers from me!) and has met Mr. Laurie. He says he’s one of the nicest people. He’s polite, shy, warm and personable. You never know what loving treasures might be hiding inside lifelong melancholy!

If you’re bitten by a bit of the blue — snuggle up on the couch and sip hot chocolate. Remember: THIS TOO SHALL PASS!

Just in case you were curious, here’s the poem:

Ode on Melancholy

by John Keats

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss’d
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty – Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

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