We’re closing in on the last of three powerful eclipses within one month, and every astrology site on the Internet has been buzzing with the same call: “Let go of what no longer serves you! Embrace who you came here to be!” It’s dramatic and exciting; for some it’s intimidating and terrifying; some take up the call to allow change obsessively; and for some the transformations at hand are subtle and seem to come out of nowhere — and it can be hard to tell if they stick. For sure, however, in each case a shift is occurring.
With one eclipse left to go, I’m not going to predict where I’m going to end up. But I would like to describe where I am along my arc at the moment. What I can say is that the phase between the first two eclipses had a certain flavor, a theme shared — bizarrely enough — with the professional sports teams and fans of a certain New England city. Granted, the theme of releasing an old identity has played out a bit differently for the Boston Red Sox and Boston Bruins than it has for me. But try as I might to separate the threads, certain points of contact seem to keep them irrevocably intertwined.
You see, just after the total lunar eclipse conjunct the Galactic Core on June 15, the Boston Bruins won North America’s pro hockey championship trophy, the Stanley Cup. It was their first Cup in 40 years, since the 1972 team featuring Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito thrilled New England hearts, despite a record 29 consecutive playoff appearances ending in the mid-‘90s.
I’m a bit of a lapsed hockey fan, I hate to admit, but I’ve never lacked love and loyalty for my ‘home’ teams in baseball and hockey. Throughout my childhood, the Boston Red Sox served as one of several points of contact between my dad and me. He was never a ‘fanatic’, but appreciated the game, as well as the team he adopted after moving to Maine. Both of us could be transported by the thought of long-time Red Sox radio announcer Joe Castiglione calling a game to the memory of warm summer evenings in the car with my family. Driving home from my Italian great-uncle’s summer cottage, the air was full of crickets and lightning bugs and the smell of the earth radiating the Sun’s heat back into the night, underlaid with the knowledge that as much as we wanted to believe this would be “their year,” our hearts would get broken yet again.