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David Ray’s Horo*Soaps, Volume 2 © 2008 by D.Ray
Forecast by Fantasy! The following ongoing stories are written for pleasure and insight, based on current astrological indications. Read the character installments for your Rising, Moon, and Sun signs. If you do not know your signs, email me with your birth information (place, date & exact time) and I will calculate them for you.
Previously in the Horo*Soaps…
The Clearwater Trial pitted Kanya (Virgo) versus Mesha (Aries) to decide the fate of Clearwater Springs. Reporting for the Lovedale Gazette, Mithuna (Gemini) struggled to remain unbiased, despite being Kanya's new roommate. As a peace offering, Mesha's lawyer, Kumbha (Aquarius) offered to help Kanya publish her self-help book. Vrishabha (Taurus) and Vrischika (Scorpio) renewed their secret love affair. Makara (Capricorn) promoted Dhanus (Sagittarius) to house manager, while managing Meena's (Pisces) art career. Tula (Libra) had marriage problems, Simha (Leo) regretted ending her musical career to become mayor of Lovedale, and Kataka (Cancer) had a prophetic dream with ominous implications...
September, 2008
Vol. 2, No. 2: Full Moon in Pisces
MESHA (Aries) #2
Mesha couldn’t sit still. Sunlight refracting through crystals hanging in the window of the small therapist’s office sent rainbow insects crawling across her corneas. The meditation music, intended to help her relax, only aggravated her with diluted harp-plucking and the breathy mewling of flaccid flutes. But the thing that contributed the most to Mesha’s restlessness was the way Tula never took her eyes off of her. She had watched her since the beginning of the session, during which time Mesha had done nothing worthy of any attention. She was beginning to think this was a waste of time. It had been almost six minutes. Mesha was ready to leave.
“Mesha, why are you here?”
“Um, because you suggested it,” Mesha piped.
“I offered to give you a space to vent a little,” Tula clarified, “At the time, you seemed to think that was a good idea.”
“Well, maybe I was wrong,” said Mesha, “What can you do about it?”
Tula spoke with a soft assurance. “I can listen.”
“Okay, okay…!” Mesha started to explode, “It’s this damn trial. I don’t know how I got to be everyone’s worst enemy. I mean, I was trying to make everyone money. I was doing it for them, for all of us. I was just trying to help. I was doing my best to help everyone. Maybe I don’t always follow the rules. Maybe I don’t always think things through. But my intentions were never to hurt anyone or rip anyone off. And now everyone’s treating me like I’m some villain. It’s not right! I mean, does that seem right to you?”
“Why do you think everyone is treating you like a villain?”
Mesha looked like she might stand. Her face was red and swollen.
“I’m being persecuted! I could lose my job! I could go to jail!”
“That’s the reality of the situation,” Tula agreed, “But how do you know how other people feel about you? Have you asked Kanya how she feels about you? Have you considered Kanya’s point of view?”
“It’s clear that Kanya sees me as a crook,” Mesha said. The rage left her, like hot air that’s escaping through some unseen leak. Tula thought she could see the first hint of remorse.
“Do you want to know what I see?” Tula said gently, “I see a powerful, driven woman who has good intentions and strong opinions about the best thing to do. But I also see somebody who doesn’t take time to listen to others. If you had stopped to listen to what Kanya and the Lovedale Nature Stewardship were trying to tell you about the property you had your sights set on, you would not be in this predicament. They were trying to tell you something, and they’re still trying to tell you something. I think you’ll learn eventually that considering other people’s perspectives is not a setback but an asset. That’s true for everything in life, not just in business.”
They talked awhile longer, and then it was time for Tula’s next appointment. She left Mesha with a suggestion to go out that night and enjoy herself. Leaving her legal fate in the hands of her lawyer, Mesha took Tula’s advice and went out to the local dance club, forgetting all about the Clearwater Trial. And when she suddenly found herself in conversation with an attractive gentleman, she broke character and let him do all the talking.
PLANET TRACKER: MARS IN LIBRA WITH MERCURY & VENUS
VRISHABHA (Taurus) #2
When Vrischika wound up tangled once again in the white sheets of Vrishabha's queen-sized bed, in the back of her mind Vrishabha knew it was going to mean trouble. Vrishabha wasn't looking for trouble. She wasn't looking for anything special from anyone. She had everything she needed and she liked things the way they were. So when Vrischika started asking her to go out of her way to hide their casual sex affair from the rest of their friends, Vrishabha had no problem simply saying no.
But Vrischika was not the kind of woman to take no for an answer, even when it was spelled out in the bold, fire-engine red letters of their increasingly frequent arguments. A master of emotional manipulation, Vrischika had this way of making Vrishabha feel guilty for things she usually considered character strengths. Not relying on a relationship for her peace of mind meant she was content, she thought, not complacent. But the more Vrishabha tried to assert her position, the more she realized how hard it would be to untangle her luscious lover from those twisted bedsheets of hers.
Their heated debates inevitably came back to that same confounding, age-old rhetorical question.
"Don't you love me?!"
The answer was obvious.
"Yes."
To which always came the same intelligent proposition.
"Well??"
"Well what?" Vrishabha countered, refusing to budge, "I don't have to prove my love to you. If anything, you have to prove to me that you are mature enough to handle this relationship. We ought to be able to work this out as adults. And if we can't do that alone, you ought to be willing to go see Tula with me."
It was a weapon Vrishabha had used before, and usually it was successful in shutting Vrischika up and closing the battle in Vrishabha's favor. Tula was their mutual friend and a local relationship therapist. Vrischika's fear of revealing her dark secrets to anyone other than her covert lover usually caused her to crawl back inside her dark cave of silent resentment.
This time, to Vrishabha's disappointment and dismay, the familiar threat didn't work. And that is how the beleaguered massage therapist found Vrischika and herself sitting on fluffy bean bags in Tula's bright therapy studio, duking it out once again, only this time with a referee. Though she didn't want to be there any more than Vrischika, Vrishabha still felt certain that Tula would take her side. But when Tula seemed to be defending Vrischika's fragile ego, Vrishabha was filled with the growing disconcerting realization that Tula may be turning against her. The last thing Vrishabha needed was yet another person trying to make her into something she was not.
"It sounds like you aren't willing to budge one inch," Tula said, with gentle sharpness, "How can a relationship work if you aren't willing to compromise?"
And there it was, the incontrovertible truth. It didn't matter how much she loved Vrischika. Vrishabha wasn't willing to compromise her own comfort for Vrischika's poisonous passion, despite how deliciously tempting that may be.
PLANET TRACKER: VENUS IN LIBRA WITH MARS & MERCURY
MITHUNA (Gemini) #2
It had been awhile since inspiration had struck Mithuna. She had a multitude of talents and there were dozens of areas in which she held a modicum of expertise. But as a reporter for the Lovedale Gazette, Mithuna's time was primarily divided into two activities. She was either witnessing the news-worthy events that were taking place around her, or she was crafting language to make the re-telling of those same events more engaging. She had forgotten that even more than reporting, her favorite activity was making connections that nobody else could. It had been awhile since she had had a really good idea.
This is how it happened.
It was beginning to seem like the harder Mithuna tried to get the scoop on the Clearwater Trial, the more her sources shut up. Recently, the proceedings had become shrouded in mystery. Even her roommate Kanya was starting to resent all of Mithuna's questions, as her frustration with the trial grew. For one thing, the trial had gone on much longer than anybody expected. A month ago, Mithuna thought she had the whole thing figured out. Mesha would get slammed with an exorbitant fine, if not jail time, and she would lose her job at the Lovedale Financial Corporation, all because of her illegal real estate scheme. The judge would rule in favor of the Lovedale Nature Stewardship, but that meant the 108-acre parcel of land, which included the modest old-growth patch called Clearwater Springs, would be put back on the market. Now that zoning for Clearwater had changed, its property values would have skyrocketed, and there was no guarantee that the Nature Stewardship could raise enough money to win the inevitable ensuing bidding wars. The more she researched it, the more Mithuna realized there would be no real winner in this trial, regardless of the outcome. But apparently she was the only one who could see it.
When Mithuna caught wind of the secret meeting at City Hall, she did her best to cash in some favors with those involved. When she couldn't talk the city officials into allowing a journalist presence at the meeting, she did her best to at least figure out which room the meeting would be held in, so that she could spy. But nobody would give her anything. She was being shut out.
Frustrated, Mithuna went to the park across the street of City Hall and plopped herself under a tree and emptied her lungs. The park was the heart of Lovedale's small commercial district. She watched people jogging and eating their lunches and walking their dogs, but got no joy from the voyeurism. Mithuna knew intuitively that she should be a part of what was happening inside City Hall. She sensed that she had a good idea, and it just needed the proper stimulation.
From a high branch of the giant spruce against which she rested, a dense pine cone surrendered its hold and plummeted towards the earth, clocking Mithuna on the skull. At the very same moment, Mithuna's cell phone began to chime a bright tune of digital epiphany. Stunned from her collision with nature, Mithuna plucked the technology from her pocket to see that the chirping was her daily planner reminding her of her late lunch date with Tula.
“Tula...!” Mithuna exclaimed to the pine cone in her hand, “Of course!”
And that's how Mithuna got the best idea that anyone had had in Lovedale in a long time. It was a good idea because it was a plan that would make everyone happy. And Mithuna's best friend Tula was the key.
PLANET TRACKER: MERCURY IN LIBRA WITH MARS & VENUS
KATAKA (Cancer) #2
Whenever Kataka felt lost or confused, she went to see her friend Meena. If any of her friends were as emotionally sensitive as Kataka, it was Meena. The abstract oil painter had the uncanny ability to tune into Kataka like a dousing rod. And if the unseen water of her soul was caught in some underground eddy, Meena would set it flowing freely again, as easily and effortlessly as the river that ran past her back door.
But today Meena seemed distracted. Her home was even more of a mess than usual, but Meena insisted that it was because she was uncharacteristically cleaning it. She had unearthed forgotten piles of possessions from closets and bureaus and boxes, and was going through it all with a dreamy randomness that betrayed her pretense of efficiency.
Kataka tried to relax in the way she usually did while at Meena’s, plopping herself down on her friend’s ratty couch and picking her favorite jelly beans out of a dish, while Meena sat on the floor surrounded by books, insisting she was sorting them. An intermittent heat wave had melted the jelly beans to the bottom of the dish and each other. Kataka liberated one from the candy mob and chewed.
“I had this really disturbing dream, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind,” Kataka said, with artificially-colored lips, “I need to be reassured that my friends are the people I think they are, you know what I mean? Meena…?”
“I’m listening…” Meena reassured, though she obviously wasn’t, “Can I just continue to organize while I listen? I need to get rid of most of this stuff. Makara says it’s all my clutter that’s holding me back from my peak success.”
Kataka swallowed wrong, almost choking, and coughed the chewed-up jelly bean back into the dish. She made a face of repulsion and set the dish down, out of her sight, on the one uncovered spot on the end table. She felt the world sway, as if the sofa floated on an uneasy ocean, the tide beginning to swell. Meena, shockingly, did not ask if she was okay. This was not the Meena that Kataka knew so well. The Meena she knew didn’t care about organizing or prioritizing or success. The Meena she knew wasn’t concerned with the physical details of her life at all. The Meena she knew cared only about her friends and her art, and that indefinable bliss of a soul in touch with its source.
“Here, will you take this box off my hands, please?”
Kataka was so disoriented, she did not see Meena coming towards her with a cardboard box, until she was dropping it in Kataka’s lap. Kataka pushed back the flaps to see the box was full of books.
“What is all this?” Kataka asked, browsing the titles. Some of the books looked well-loved, with creases in the binding and pages loose. Others looked untouched, the result of compulsive buying.
“That’s all my spiritual books,” Meena said with a smile that was sweet but too quick to offer any comfort, “I just don’t need them anymore. I thought you’d appreciate them the most out of all of our friends. You’re always contemplating the meaning of everything.”
We used to do that together, Kataka thought to herself. But she was happy to have this unexpected spiritual inheritance. Now, more than ever, she needed some religion.
PLANET TRACKER: FULL MOON IN PISCES
SIMHA (Leo) #2
Simha had the tune for a new song humming itself through her brain all morning. She could even hear the earliest inklings of lyrics begin to tickle her inner ear. If it ever managed to push its way through the birthing channels of her heart to her lips and the bright world beyond, this new song would be the first one she would have written since she began her campaign for mayor.
Simha's eyes darted back and forth between the piles of paperwork on her desk and a single plastic guitar pick. The pick had one of those holographic surfaces so that it reflected numerous tiny rays of light, which shifted as she moved and reminded Simha of the scintillating sparkle of the fountain in her garden. She had brought her guitar with her to City Hall today, just in case she happened to have time to pursue her new inspiration. But her secretary was already buzzing her and reminding her of the Clearwater meeting.
For a moment, Simha seriously considered grabbing her guitar and escaping out the window. But somebody would see her, she decided. And her involvement in the Clearwater mess was enough bad press for one year. Simha needed to preserve her reputation and steer clear of controversy. She needed to regain everyone's confidence in her as the chief executive of their fine hamlet. That's why Simha herself had called this meeting between the different parties involved in Lovedale's trial of the decade. Simha needed resolution.
The Clearwater Trial had been extended longer than was expected. The defense lawyer was adept at stalling the courtroom with bureaucratic process and inconsequential evidence. Finally, Simha had gotten them to agree to arbitration. She would oversee the process along with an impartial arbiter. Of course, Simha didn't have to get involved. But that's what mayors do, she told herself. They step in and sort things out when nobody else can.
Kanya and Makara were already in the meeting room, along with other representatives of the Lovedale Nature Stewardship and the Lovedale Financial Corporation. Simha couldn't help but notice the expectant expression on Kanya's face. She was like a fawn caught in the headlights. She looked as if she expected Simha to fix everything. And Simha couldn't help but feel responsible. She had been an inadvertent part of the real estate scheme that yanked Clearwater Springs away from the Stewardship, when she helped change the zoning laws. Reminded of Mesha, Simha looked around and realized her best friend was not in the room. Simha fondled the guitar pick in her pocket.
Just then, Kumbha waltzed through the door sipping on a smoothie.
"Where's Mesha?" Simha asked tersely.
"My client has another engagement," she replied, "All the stress of the trial has taken its toll on her psyche, so she's at Tula's studio trying to relax."
"You mean to tell me..." Simha said incredulously, "While her future is being decided by the people in this room, she's at her therapist?!"
"Exactly," Kumbha said, nonplussed, "Now, can we get down to business?"
With that, she slammed her briefcase onto the meeting room table. She did it so loudly that Simha could not tell whether it was a clumsy accident or a brash attempt to command everyone's attention. But one thing she did know. The jarring sound made her realize in dismay that she had completely forgotten the new song she had been gradually composing in her head all morning long.
PLANET TRACKER: SUN IN VIRGO WITH SATURN / KETU IN LEO
KANYA (Virgo) #2
Makara promised her she wouldn't have to say anything. She'd just have to show up and be present, and help finish what she started. Makara would do all the talking. This promise relieved Kanya of a considerable amount of stress. By now she was exhausted with the Clearwater Trial. Her newfound confidence could only go so far. Her assertion that she was in the right had worn thin from the long bureaucratic process of the courtroom.
A month ago, everyone believed that the Nature Stewardship would win back its claim to the patch of old-growth forest called Clearwater Springs. But now Kanya wasn't so sure, and she couldn't bear trying to make the same argument over and over again. So she was grateful that Makara had volunteered to be her advocate at the meeting.
When Simha entered the meeting room in the Lovedale City Hall, Kanya looked up at her, eyes questioning. Without saying anything, Kanya knew her expression spoke volumes. Simha was their last hope. As the defense attorney and the Stewardship's momentary antagonist, Kumbha had demonstrated unexpected legal prowess, wrapping the process up in thick red tape, through which justice was getting harder and harder to glimpse. As mayor of Lovedale, Simha had motioned for arbitration, and called this private emergency meeting for all parties involved.
As Kanya expected, the meeting soon turned into an intense debate between Makara and Kumbha, with everyone else bearing helpless witness. Both women were intelligent and stubborn, but Kumbha was more adept at twisting language and manipulating logic to favor her argument. Makara was business savvy, but she was not as versed in legal rhetoric as Kumbha was. Kanya watched and listened as Makara tried to hold firm, but her position was slipping and they both knew it.
When Kanya looked to Simha, the mayor's eyes seemed vacant. Kanya could tell just by looking at those eyes that Simha was not really there in the room. Perhaps she was reminiscing about the past when she careened the globe in her private jet performing alternative folk rock to crowds of adoring fans. Perhaps she missed those days, and wondered now why she had ever decided to become mayor of a small Western Washington town, where she could get caught up in turf wars like these, between panicked environmental advocates and insatiable real estate developers.
Looking into those vacant eyes, all hope left Kanya. She felt certain she had come all this way just to lose everything. She felt embarrassed to be the leader of what had become a waste of everyone's time and money. She wished that she could just disappear. As the debate got tenser, she wished she could become entirely invisible.
That's when her cell phone made a loud beeping noise, and all eyes turned to Kanya. Despite her wish, everyone was suddenly reminded again of her presence. Kanya blushed, and looked at the text message from her roommate Mithuna, which was displayed on her phone. Mithuna was crafty, always getting involved in other people's business.
The text message said, "Don't worry! I've got a plan that will make everyone happy!"
PLANET TRACKER: MERCURY IN LIBRA WITH MARS & VENUS / SUN & SATURN IN VIRGO
TULA (Libra) #2
Tula stood on the threshold of her own home like a pressure cooker just before it pops. She would be boiling over with rage and conflicting wishes already, if it weren’t for the lid of civility she habitually fastened over her emotions. Turning the key was like releasing that switch. She knew she was about to blow, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
It had been a long day at her therapist’s office in downtown Lovedale. After a period of depression in which she felt particularly unworthy, Tula was now in high demand. It didn’t matter that she had left the Unitarian Church or that she had given up on her dream of creating a holistic healing center in Lovedale. She was still a relationship therapist, and no matter what else went on in the world, people would always eventually find themselves in relationships, often unhappily. Tula herself was no exception.
She had spent the day listening to people and offering them her honest feedback. First it was Mesha, whom she had approached one day after the local court proceedings to offer her help. She offered Mesha a place to vent, a sanctuary of non-judgment in a world that seemed to have turned against her. But really, Tula was desperate to feel needed again. Mesha was fiercely independent. If Tula could convince Mesha of the value of relationships, then perhaps she could save her own marriage.
After Mesha it was the unlikely couple of Vrishabha and Vrischika. The two women had been having a secret affair on and off for over a year. Nobody was supposed to know about it, but everybody did, mostly because of something Mithuna wrote in her gossip column awhile back. Tula could feel the sexual tension between these two. They were like an immovable object and an unstoppable force. The more that Vrischika grasped and held on, the more that Vrishabha pushed and held back. Tula did her best to remain objectively immune to the sizzling passion that raised the temperature in her therapy studio more than a few degrees. She listened, but all the listening in the world wouldn’t help two chronically introverted people.
“You can’t take responsibility for the other person’s needs,” Tula explained, “You are only responsible for your own needs, and in a relationship that means speaking your truth. You have to be willing to say what you feel, or else how will the other person ever know?”
It’s impossible to spew advice all day without some of it seeping into your own heart. By the time Tula came home, she felt super-charged. She no longer felt unworthy of love. She knew now that she deserved love, and when she unlocked the door and stepped into her home, she demanded it. She was no longer concerned with being nice and accommodating. She no longer cared about the ultimate balance of the relationship, about what was fair or just. It didn’t matter if she appeared to be one of those selfish, abusive, loudmouth bullies that she so disliked. All that mattered was that she express her feelings.
What happened next surprised Tula. Instead of retreating, her husband responded to her diatribe with his own rage. He became loud and obnoxious and passionate as well. And it was the biggest turn-on Tula had felt in a long time. Their anger rapidly transformed into desire, and soon they were making steamy love on the floor, happy as two whistling tea kettles.
PLANET TRACKER: VENUS IN LIBRA WITH MARS & MERCURY
VRISCHIKA (Scorpio) #2
The whole relationship counseling thing started as a kind of dare. Neither of them really wanted to see Tula. But Vrishabha had said that if Vrischika was serious about having a relationship, then she would agree to go to into therapy. Vrischika called her bluff, and now they sat unhappily in a pastel-hued room.
Vrishabha tried to appear amenable, couched as she was in a peach bean bag. Like two dueling marshmallows in a candy boxing ring, they sat in opposite corners exchanging glances. While Vrishabha sugar-coated her speech, Vrischika made no such sweet pretense of being comfortable. Sitting on a fluffy pouch full of Styrofoam beads, her posture was forced. She hadn't even taken her jacket off. Habitual creases in the leather squeaked in vexation as she tightened the fold of her arms and stared at the sea foam wall.
In that moment, Vrischika was reminded how much she hated pastels. Her favorite colors were wound red and dark-of-the-moon black.
When Tula asked what the problem was, Vrischika found herself at a loss. She honestly didn't know why things always fell apart with Vrishabha. She still clung to the reason why she'd come back to Vrishabha after so long. It was a sensation of reassuring bliss that felt as if it would go on forever. She was blind to how this beneficent ecstasy had transformed into clinging desperation and then into vindictive rage. By the time she realized it wasn't bliss anymore, she was already making threats and screaming ultimatums. But Vrischika couldn't take Tula's thinly-veiled interrogations anymore, so she interrupted her.
"Actually, I don't know what I'm doing here, besides making myself a target for the gossip-mongers of Lovedale."
Rather then offended, Tula looked surprisingly curious. In the pregnant silence, Vrischika knew she had inadvertently spoken to the root of the issue.
"Now you understand why I can't take her seriously when she says she wants a relationship," Vrishabha declared, in that furiously reasonable tone, "How can she be serious about it when she's trying to hide it?"
"Good, good..." Tula said, sickly enthusiastic about other people's dysfunctions, "Let's talk about this..."
But Vrischika's attention was suddenly whisked away. With her keen perceptions, she had sensed the faintest hum, like the buzzing of a hummingbird outside. Subtle as it was, she knew it meant something important. Then, in a cascade of cathartic recognition, she leapt from the bean bag and plunged herself under the window next to Vrishabha.
"Vrischika, what is it?" Vrishabha asked, genuine affection in her eyes.
"I'd know that sound anywhere," Vrischika told them, "It's Mithuna's scooter. You didn't tell us Mithuna was going to be here!"
"Oh, we have a late lunch date," Tula stammered, "What does it matter?"
"Don't you get it?" Vrischika scowled, "She's the worst gossip queen of them all. If she sees us here together, it's going to be all over the Gazette."
At Vrischika's insistence, Tula agreed to help them hide out. When she opened the door and greeted Mithuna, the two lovers were hidden in the corner beneath a mound of bean bags and floor pillows. Once they had gone, Vrishabha couldn't help but giggle, and Vrischika took it as a sign that their love affair wasn't over just yet. Maybe pastel wasn't so bad, thought Vrischika.
PLANET TRACKER: MARS IN LIBRA WITH MERCURY & VENUS
DHANUS (Sagittarius) #2
Dhanus turned it into a little game, to see how long she could stand it. Her goal was to turn the tables on Makara. She knew that Makara wasn't serious when she promoted Dhanus to house manager of her restaurant. She knew that Makara was trying to prove a point, by giving Dhanus more responsibility then she thought she could handle. But Dhanus also knew there was nothing she couldn't handle if she applied herself. She just had to focus her infinite, unfettered creative energy towards something, and it would turn into success. She did it last year when she agreed to live and work in Meena's art studio selling her art. She did it when the magical Naga Votive drew her into the impossible realm of the Purusha, where she was forced to exercise her inner sight. She did it over and over again in the great wilderness of the world, facing one grueling physical challenge after the next. Nothing could keep her from her goal.
Dhanus thought that Makara would be looking over her shoulder every ten seconds, waiting for her to make a mistake. As it turned out, Makara was rarely at the restaurant. Makara told Dhanus she had other responsibilities these days, and that's why she entrusted the Bistro to Dhanus' able hands. But Dhanus suspected her boss was just patronizing her. She was too much of a control queen to hand her precious business over to someone else. She suspected Makara was secretly spying on her, while giving her a false sense of freedom.
Dhanus refused to be negative about the situation. If Makara wanted to play a game, Dhanus would play along. And she'd make it fun. Dhanus would turn the restaurant into a light-hearted endeavor totally free of stress, and super-charged with friendly service. Her uplifting attitude was infectious, and the staff was soon doing their best to please the customers, without complaints.
But today, Dhanus couldn't help notice the beautiful weather outside. A crowd of her climber friends came in boasting about their morning's excursion. Dhanus itched to climb out of her professional attire and into some more rugged cloths and head for the hills, leaving all her responsibilities behind. But she remembered that this time she was climbing a different kind of mountain.
By the end of the day, Dhanus struggled to maintain her positive attitude. Yet her habitual zeal wouldn't die easy. Though she was run-down and ready for the shift to end, she let a smile bloom on her face when she saw last-minute customers at the door. It was one minute to closing and all the other servers groaned when the nicely-dressed couple walked into the otherwise empty restaurant. Dhanus generously let the other servers do their end-of-shift chores and go home, while she waited on the couple. She could tell that it was a first date, and the gentleman was trying to make a good impression. By the end of the dinner, as the woman was getting her coat, the man approached her and slipped a hundred dollar bill into her hand.
"Thanks for making my night," he winked, and walked out the door, arm in arm with his grateful date.
Dhanus looked at the money. She realized that she had deserved it, through her infinite energy and positive attitude. But the money didn't matter to her. And the customers were not the ones she was trying desperately to please. The one she was really trying to impress was nowhere to be seen, and was infinitely harder to impress than a rich businessman attempting to get laid.
PLANET TRACKER: JUPITER IN CAPRICORN
MAKARA (Capricorn) #2
With everything that was going on, Makara still insisted that she be there for Kanya. She loved Kanya like an angel. Kanya was a champion for all the good causes in the world. She looked up to Kanya, and wanted to protect her from her enemies. That's why when Kanya reached the end of her rope with the Clearwater Trial, Makara volunteered to be her advocate.
Maybe Makara liked the crisis of the trial. In some ways, as odd as it sounded when she said it aloud, Makara preferred it when things didn't come through. As much as she hadn't intended to admit it, she felt more comfortable with disappointment. She was adept at enduring difficulties and surviving failures. She could always gather her resources, pick herself up again, and simply survive. She knew how to function in the worst of circumstances. She was self-assured when all that mattered was the basic necessities of existence. She was more comfortable, to put it bluntly, with misfortune.
Now that she was rich beyond her wildest dreams, Makara didn't know what to do with herself. To Makara, more money just seemed like more stuff for which she was ultimately responsible. For example, she had inherited a gigantic house from her great aunt Lenora, and now she had to maintain it, pay property taxes, pay inheritance taxes, and pay home owner's insurance. She had the income to support it, but still it she had to stay on top of it all. The property had to be maintained, the house cleaned, and the yard gardened. The work and stress of owning a large property seemed to be endless.
Another example was Meena. She had taken on the responsibility of being Meena's business manager, and while Meena's oil paintings sold themselves, Makara still felt responsible for training Meena and re-shaping her in her own image. With her keen awareness of her own mortality, Makara knew she might not always be there for Meena, and the flighty artist needed to learn to be more fiscally responsible and business-minded. She needed to learn how to focus on things like marketing and accessibility and image. And while Makara was excited about this new world of art, there was a lot that she needed to educate herself about. It was this whole new world of possibility. There were so many diverse ways a person could make money, just by creating something from their imagination. A random moment of self-expression could become an asset to be priced and sold and traded.
Despite the allure, Makara felt uneasy around Meena's abstractions. They were decidedly without definition or boundary, and Makara felt as if she might accidentally trip and fall into one and lose herself forever. Makara didn't want to lose herself to anything. She wanted to always have her feet planted firmly on the ground. She could be destitute. She could face near-impossible adversity. She could survive any trauma or loss. But this new limitless abundance frightened her. Makara needed limits. She needed to know where the ceiling was. But the money seemed to be flowing in without end. The sky itself offered no consolation. The distant horizon was never within reach.
Makara felt as if she was riding on a balloon of hot air that could easily pop. And she didn't even know how high up she was. She couldn't see the ground anymore, much less touch it. She feared that when the bubble burst, she had a long, long way to fall.
PLANET TRACKER: SATURN IN VIRGO WITH THE SUN / JUPITER IN CAPRICORN
KUMBHA (Aquarius) #2
Kumbha had just recently managed to clear out her apartment, only to have it filled up again. In January, she had made it a resolution to organize her seemingly endless library of information. Nine months later, she had been almost entirely successful, having boxed up all of her conspiracy theory literature into file boxes, in a complicated cross-referenced configuration that made sense only to her. UFO sightings and alien abductions were now tucked neatly away.
But something in Kumbha's nature abhorred a vacuum. Her apartment was like an empty vessel wanting to be filled. Space vanished as soon as it appeared. This time her home was occupied by stacks of freshly-minted self-help books, which Kumbha had published on behalf of her friend Kanya. After Kanya had accused her of playing favorites in the Clearwater Trial, Kumbha felt the need to prove her impartiality by helping Kanya out. It had been over a year since the demure office manager had completed her book, and still she had not submitted it to a publisher. Ever altruistic, Kumbha was doing her a favor by publishing it for her. In less than a month, she already had 10,000 copies filling her apartment from floor to ceiling. Only a modest network of tunnels existed in the maze of self-help literature, connecting bedroom to kitchen and bathroom, and a modest space by the front door. The only bare spot on her kitchen counter was for the coffee maker. And in the bathroom, a plastic bag over the shower head protected the glossy paperbacks that filled her tub.
After helping the cute publishing house delivery guy unload the books, Kumbha rushed to meet with Kanya and Makara at city hall. And after enduring hours of legal negotiations arbitrated by Simha, Lovedale's mayor, Kumbha was completely exhausted. When she got home, she collapsed onto her favorite easy chair, the only piece of furniture besides her bed that wasn't lost behind the labyrinth of books. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when the doorbell rang, as time had entered into that unstructured limbo that always accompanies fatigue. She felt oddly weightless on her way to the door.
The man standing on the landing wore a neatly pressed suit. Black jacket and tie contrasted handsomely with the starched bleach-white of his button-down shirt. Impenetrable black sunglasses hid his eyes, yet somehow Kumbha perceived the professional urgency of his expression.
"Kumbha," he said, and it wasn't a question, "Special Agent Vavio. I'm with Department P." He flashed an ID too fast for Kumbha to see.
"Department P...?"
As Kumbha stood dumbfounded, Agent Vavio slipped into the room like a wet fish, and closed the door behind him.
"I'm sorry, I can't afford the usual politeness," he whispered. The lack of space in the room meant their faces were pressed close together. Kumbha could feel his cool breath on her eyelashes as he spoke. "Department P is the ultra-top-secret division of the FBI that deals with extraterrestrial threats."
"Extraterrestrial...?"
"What I'm about to say may be alarming to you."
"What do you mean, what you're about to say...?"
"According to our intelligence, there is a 98.9% chance that your friend Kanya is an alien infiltrator and a threat to human civilization as we know it."
PLANET TRACKER: SATURN IN VIRGO WITH THE SUN
MEENA (Pisces) #2
It wasn't Makara's fault that Meena was changing. At least, that's what Meena told herself. Makara was just making suggestions. She wasn't making Meena do anything. After all, Makara was working for Meena, not the other way around. And as a business manager, Makara was pretty hands-off. She had insisted that she wasn't going to meddle in Meena's creative process. Her only instructions were financial and logistical ones. For example, Makara's only instructions on this sleepy Monday morning was to get rid of all the excess.
Somehow, Meena didn't realize the enormity of that task when she started cleaning out her house. Until now, she hadn't even acknowledged her subconscious tendency to collect stuff. Meena wasn't particularly sentimental. She just wasn't very motivated to get rid of the things she accumulated. And even if she was, she wouldn't know where to begin. How do you determine what has value and what doesn't? To her, it was all the same, the constantly growing detritus of a life well lived.
She told Kataka over the phone that she was cleaning today. So when Kataka invited herself over, Meena assumed that it was to help her out with that impossible project. But soon Kataka was sitting on her couch eating her candy, doing nothing but talking about herself as usual. Meena tried to ignore how irritated she was and focused on her herculean chore.
The mess in her house was endless. She'd start on a box of books and get absorbed in it for an hour. Then she'd finally snap out of her nostalgia and realize that at her current rate, clearing everything she didn't need out of her house would take weeks. Exasperated, she picked up the box she was going through and crossed the room to where Kataka was sitting. She stopped Kataka in the middle of her self-absorbed sentence by dropping the box of books in her lap.
"Here, take it," she said, "Please..."
"Meena, this isn't like you!" Kataka exclaimed, "Since when were you into keeping things organized?"
Meena sighed, letting her irritation go. Kataka was her best friend, after all. She wasn't really mad at Kataka. Meena plopped herself down next to her on the ratty couch and explained.
"Makara says that in order to make space for what I want, I have to clear out what I don't want. She says that all of this stuff I have around and don't use is just a distraction from my success as an artist."
"I'm sorry, Meena," Kataka told her, putting a gentle palm to the back of Meena's hand, "I don't want to second-guess your business manager. But the truth is you already are a successful artist! And it wasn't organization and cleaning that made you successful. It's your talent."
Those words stuck with Meena. So much so that when Kataka left, she gave up on cleaning and hauled out her easel. She usually painted right in her living room, and the carpet had the oil stains to prove it. She had put all her art supplies away in order to make space for going through all her stuff. But now she brought out what she needed to do what she did best. Soon Meena was lost in yet another abstract journey of shape and color. No, Makara would never change her. Meena would never abandon her creative spirit for the hollow prize of business savvy.
PLANET TRACKER: JUPITER IN CAPRICORN / MOON IN PISCES
The LADIES of LOVEDALE
David Ray’s Horo*Soaps, Volume 2 © 2008 by D.Ray
Forecast by Fantasy! The following ongoing stories are written for pleasure and insight, based on current astrological indications. Read the character installments for your Rising, Moon, and Sun signs. If you do not know your signs, email me with your birth information (place, date & exact time) and I will calculate them for you.
Previously in the Horo*Soaps…
The Clearwater Trial pitted Kanya (Virgo) versus Mesha (Aries) to decide the fate of Clearwater Springs. Reporting for the Lovedale Gazette, Mithuna (Gemini) struggled to remain unbiased, despite being Kanya's new roommate. As a peace offering, Mesha's lawyer, Kumbha (Aquarius) offered to help Kanya publish her self-help book. Vrishabha (Taurus) and Vrischika (Scorpio) renewed their secret love affair. Makara (Capricorn) promoted Dhanus (Sagittarius) to house manager, while managing Meena's (Pisces) art career. Tula (Libra) had marriage problems, Simha (Leo) regretted ending her musical career to become mayor of Lovedale, and Kataka (Cancer) had a prophetic dream with ominous implications...
September, 2008
Vol. 2, No. 2: Full Moon in Pisces
MESHA (Aries) #2
Mesha couldn’t sit still. Sunlight refracting through crystals hanging in the window of the small therapist’s office sent rainbow insects crawling across her corneas. The meditation music, intended to help her relax, only aggravated her with diluted harp-plucking and the breathy mewling of flaccid flutes. But the thing that contributed the most to Mesha’s restlessness was the way Tula never took her eyes off of her. She had watched her since the beginning of the session, during which time Mesha had done nothing worthy of any attention. She was beginning to think this was a waste of time. It had been almost six minutes. Mesha was ready to leave.
“Mesha, why are you here?”
“Um, because you suggested it,” Mesha piped.
“I offered to give you a space to vent a little,” Tula clarified, “At the time, you seemed to think that was a good idea.”
“Well, maybe I was wrong,” said Mesha, “What can you do about it?”
Tula spoke with a soft assurance. “I can listen.”
“Okay, okay…!” Mesha started to explode, “It’s this damn trial. I don’t know how I got to be everyone’s worst enemy. I mean, I was trying to make everyone money. I was doing it for them, for all of us. I was just trying to help. I was doing my best to help everyone. Maybe I don’t always follow the rules. Maybe I don’t always think things through. But my intentions were never to hurt anyone or rip anyone off. And now everyone’s treating me like I’m some villain. It’s not right! I mean, does that seem right to you?”
“Why do you think everyone is treating you like a villain?”
Mesha looked like she might stand. Her face was red and swollen.
“I’m being persecuted! I could lose my job! I could go to jail!”
“That’s the reality of the situation,” Tula agreed, “But how do you know how other people feel about you? Have you asked Kanya how she feels about you? Have you considered Kanya’s point of view?”
“It’s clear that Kanya sees me as a crook,” Mesha said. The rage left her, like hot air that’s escaping through some unseen leak. Tula thought she could see the first hint of remorse.
“Do you want to know what I see?” Tula said gently, “I see a powerful, driven woman who has good intentions and strong opinions about the best thing to do. But I also see somebody who doesn’t take time to listen to others. If you had stopped to listen to what Kanya and the Lovedale Nature Stewardship were trying to tell you about the property you had your sights set on, you would not be in this predicament. They were trying to tell you something, and they’re still trying to tell you something. I think you’ll learn eventually that considering other people’s perspectives is not a setback but an asset. That’s true for everything in life, not just in business.”
They talked awhile longer, and then it was time for Tula’s next appointment. She left Mesha with a suggestion to go out that night and enjoy herself. Leaving her legal fate in the hands of her lawyer, Mesha took Tula’s advice and went out to the local dance club, forgetting all about the Clearwater Trial. And when she suddenly found herself in conversation with an attractive gentleman, she broke character and let him do all the talking.
PLANET TRACKER: MARS IN LIBRA WITH MERCURY & VENUS
VRISHABHA (Taurus) #2
When Vrischika wound up tangled once again in the white sheets of Vrishabha's queen-sized bed, in the back of her mind Vrishabha knew it was going to mean trouble. Vrishabha wasn't looking for trouble. She wasn't looking for anything special from anyone. She had everything she needed and she liked things the way they were. So when Vrischika started asking her to go out of her way to hide their casual sex affair from the rest of their friends, Vrishabha had no problem simply saying no.
But Vrischika was not the kind of woman to take no for an answer, even when it was spelled out in the bold, fire-engine red letters of their increasingly frequent arguments. A master of emotional manipulation, Vrischika had this way of making Vrishabha feel guilty for things she usually considered character strengths. Not relying on a relationship for her peace of mind meant she was content, she thought, not complacent. But the more Vrishabha tried to assert her position, the more she realized how hard it would be to untangle her luscious lover from those twisted bedsheets of hers.
Their heated debates inevitably came back to that same confounding, age-old rhetorical question.
"Don't you love me?!"
The answer was obvious.
"Yes."
To which always came the same intelligent proposition.
"Well??"
"Well what?" Vrishabha countered, refusing to budge, "I don't have to prove my love to you. If anything, you have to prove to me that you are mature enough to handle this relationship. We ought to be able to work this out as adults. And if we can't do that alone, you ought to be willing to go see Tula with me."
It was a weapon Vrishabha had used before, and usually it was successful in shutting Vrischika up and closing the battle in Vrishabha's favor. Tula was their mutual friend and a local relationship therapist. Vrischika's fear of revealing her dark secrets to anyone other than her covert lover usually caused her to crawl back inside her dark cave of silent resentment.
This time, to Vrishabha's disappointment and dismay, the familiar threat didn't work. And that is how the beleaguered massage therapist found Vrischika and herself sitting on fluffy bean bags in Tula's bright therapy studio, duking it out once again, only this time with a referee. Though she didn't want to be there any more than Vrischika, Vrishabha still felt certain that Tula would take her side. But when Tula seemed to be defending Vrischika's fragile ego, Vrishabha was filled with the growing disconcerting realization that Tula may be turning against her. The last thing Vrishabha needed was yet another person trying to make her into something she was not.
"It sounds like you aren't willing to budge one inch," Tula said, with gentle sharpness, "How can a relationship work if you aren't willing to compromise?"
And there it was, the incontrovertible truth. It didn't matter how much she loved Vrischika. Vrishabha wasn't willing to compromise her own comfort for Vrischika's poisonous passion, despite how deliciously tempting that may be.
PLANET TRACKER: VENUS IN LIBRA WITH MARS & MERCURY
MITHUNA (Gemini) #2
It had been awhile since inspiration had struck Mithuna. She had a multitude of talents and there were dozens of areas in which she held a modicum of expertise. But as a reporter for the Lovedale Gazette, Mithuna's time was primarily divided into two activities. She was either witnessing the news-worthy events that were taking place around her, or she was crafting language to make the re-telling of those same events more engaging. She had forgotten that even more than reporting, her favorite activity was making connections that nobody else could. It had been awhile since she had had a really good idea.
This is how it happened.
It was beginning to seem like the harder Mithuna tried to get the scoop on the Clearwater Trial, the more her sources shut up. Recently, the proceedings had become shrouded in mystery. Even her roommate Kanya was starting to resent all of Mithuna's questions, as her frustration with the trial grew. For one thing, the trial had gone on much longer than anybody expected. A month ago, Mithuna thought she had the whole thing figured out. Mesha would get slammed with an exorbitant fine, if not jail time, and she would lose her job at the Lovedale Financial Corporation, all because of her illegal real estate scheme. The judge would rule in favor of the Lovedale Nature Stewardship, but that meant the 108-acre parcel of land, which included the modest old-growth patch called Clearwater Springs, would be put back on the market. Now that zoning for Clearwater had changed, its property values would have skyrocketed, and there was no guarantee that the Nature Stewardship could raise enough money to win the inevitable ensuing bidding wars. The more she researched it, the more Mithuna realized there would be no real winner in this trial, regardless of the outcome. But apparently she was the only one who could see it.
When Mithuna caught wind of the secret meeting at City Hall, she did her best to cash in some favors with those involved. When she couldn't talk the city officials into allowing a journalist presence at the meeting, she did her best to at least figure out which room the meeting would be held in, so that she could spy. But nobody would give her anything. She was being shut out.
Frustrated, Mithuna went to the park across the street of City Hall and plopped herself under a tree and emptied her lungs. The park was the heart of Lovedale's small commercial district. She watched people jogging and eating their lunches and walking their dogs, but got no joy from the voyeurism. Mithuna knew intuitively that she should be a part of what was happening inside City Hall. She sensed that she had a good idea, and it just needed the proper stimulation.
From a high branch of the giant spruce against which she rested, a dense pine cone surrendered its hold and plummeted towards the earth, clocking Mithuna on the skull. At the very same moment, Mithuna's cell phone began to chime a bright tune of digital epiphany. Stunned from her collision with nature, Mithuna plucked the technology from her pocket to see that the chirping was her daily planner reminding her of her late lunch date with Tula.
“Tula...!” Mithuna exclaimed to the pine cone in her hand, “Of course!”
And that's how Mithuna got the best idea that anyone had had in Lovedale in a long time. It was a good idea because it was a plan that would make everyone happy. And Mithuna's best friend Tula was the key.
PLANET TRACKER: MERCURY IN LIBRA WITH MARS & VENUS
KATAKA (Cancer) #2
Whenever Kataka felt lost or confused, she went to see her friend Meena. If any of her friends were as emotionally sensitive as Kataka, it was Meena. The abstract oil painter had the uncanny ability to tune into Kataka like a dousing rod. And if the unseen water of her soul was caught in some underground eddy, Meena would set it flowing freely again, as easily and effortlessly as the river that ran past her back door.
But today Meena seemed distracted. Her home was even more of a mess than usual, but Meena insisted that it was because she was uncharacteristically cleaning it. She had unearthed forgotten piles of possessions from closets and bureaus and boxes, and was going through it all with a dreamy randomness that betrayed her pretense of efficiency.
Kataka tried to relax in the way she usually did while at Meena’s, plopping herself down on her friend’s ratty couch and picking her favorite jelly beans out of a dish, while Meena sat on the floor surrounded by books, insisting she was sorting them. An intermittent heat wave had melted the jelly beans to the bottom of the dish and each other. Kataka liberated one from the candy mob and chewed.
“I had this really disturbing dream, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind,” Kataka said, with artificially-colored lips, “I need to be reassured that my friends are the people I think they are, you know what I mean? Meena…?”
“I’m listening…” Meena reassured, though she obviously wasn’t, “Can I just continue to organize while I listen? I need to get rid of most of this stuff. Makara says it’s all my clutter that’s holding me back from my peak success.”
Kataka swallowed wrong, almost choking, and coughed the chewed-up jelly bean back into the dish. She made a face of repulsion and set the dish down, out of her sight, on the one uncovered spot on the end table. She felt the world sway, as if the sofa floated on an uneasy ocean, the tide beginning to swell. Meena, shockingly, did not ask if she was okay. This was not the Meena that Kataka knew so well. The Meena she knew didn’t care about organizing or prioritizing or success. The Meena she knew wasn’t concerned with the physical details of her life at all. The Meena she knew cared only about her friends and her art, and that indefinable bliss of a soul in touch with its source.
“Here, will you take this box off my hands, please?”
Kataka was so disoriented, she did not see Meena coming towards her with a cardboard box, until she was dropping it in Kataka’s lap. Kataka pushed back the flaps to see the box was full of books.
“What is all this?” Kataka asked, browsing the titles. Some of the books looked well-loved, with creases in the binding and pages loose. Others looked untouched, the result of compulsive buying.
“That’s all my spiritual books,” Meena said with a smile that was sweet but too quick to offer any comfort, “I just don’t need them anymore. I thought you’d appreciate them the most out of all of our friends. You’re always contemplating the meaning of everything.”
We used to do that together, Kataka thought to herself. But she was happy to have this unexpected spiritual inheritance. Now, more than ever, she needed some religion.
PLANET TRACKER: FULL MOON IN PISCES
SIMHA (Leo) #2
Simha had the tune for a new song humming itself through her brain all morning. She could even hear the earliest inklings of lyrics begin to tickle her inner ear. If it ever managed to push its way through the birthing channels of her heart to her lips and the bright world beyond, this new song would be the first one she would have written since she began her campaign for mayor.
Simha's eyes darted back and forth between the piles of paperwork on her desk and a single plastic guitar pick. The pick had one of those holographic surfaces so that it reflected numerous tiny rays of light, which shifted as she moved and reminded Simha of the scintillating sparkle of the fountain in her garden. She had brought her guitar with her to City Hall today, just in case she happened to have time to pursue her new inspiration. But her secretary was already buzzing her and reminding her of the Clearwater meeting.
For a moment, Simha seriously considered grabbing her guitar and escaping out the window. But somebody would see her, she decided. And her involvement in the Clearwater mess was enough bad press for one year. Simha needed to preserve her reputation and steer clear of controversy. She needed to regain everyone's confidence in her as the chief executive of their fine hamlet. That's why Simha herself had called this meeting between the different parties involved in Lovedale's trial of the decade. Simha needed resolution.
The Clearwater Trial had been extended longer than was expected. The defense lawyer was adept at stalling the courtroom with bureaucratic process and inconsequential evidence. Finally, Simha had gotten them to agree to arbitration. She would oversee the process along with an impartial arbiter. Of course, Simha didn't have to get involved. But that's what mayors do, she told herself. They step in and sort things out when nobody else can.
Kanya and Makara were already in the meeting room, along with other representatives of the Lovedale Nature Stewardship and the Lovedale Financial Corporation. Simha couldn't help but notice the expectant expression on Kanya's face. She was like a fawn caught in the headlights. She looked as if she expected Simha to fix everything. And Simha couldn't help but feel responsible. She had been an inadvertent part of the real estate scheme that yanked Clearwater Springs away from the Stewardship, when she helped change the zoning laws. Reminded of Mesha, Simha looked around and realized her best friend was not in the room. Simha fondled the guitar pick in her pocket.
Just then, Kumbha waltzed through the door sipping on a smoothie.
"Where's Mesha?" Simha asked tersely.
"My client has another engagement," she replied, "All the stress of the trial has taken its toll on her psyche, so she's at Tula's studio trying to relax."
"You mean to tell me..." Simha said incredulously, "While her future is being decided by the people in this room, she's at her therapist?!"
"Exactly," Kumbha said, nonplussed, "Now, can we get down to business?"
With that, she slammed her briefcase onto the meeting room table. She did it so loudly that Simha could not tell whether it was a clumsy accident or a brash attempt to command everyone's attention. But one thing she did know. The jarring sound made her realize in dismay that she had completely forgotten the new song she had been gradually composing in her head all morning long.
PLANET TRACKER: SUN IN VIRGO WITH SATURN / KETU IN LEO
KANYA (Virgo) #2
Makara promised her she wouldn't have to say anything. She'd just have to show up and be present, and help finish what she started. Makara would do all the talking. This promise relieved Kanya of a considerable amount of stress. By now she was exhausted with the Clearwater Trial. Her newfound confidence could only go so far. Her assertion that she was in the right had worn thin from the long bureaucratic process of the courtroom.
A month ago, everyone believed that the Nature Stewardship would win back its claim to the patch of old-growth forest called Clearwater Springs. But now Kanya wasn't so sure, and she couldn't bear trying to make the same argument over and over again. So she was grateful that Makara had volunteered to be her advocate at the meeting.
When Simha entered the meeting room in the Lovedale City Hall, Kanya looked up at her, eyes questioning. Without saying anything, Kanya knew her expression spoke volumes. Simha was their last hope. As the defense attorney and the Stewardship's momentary antagonist, Kumbha had demonstrated unexpected legal prowess, wrapping the process up in thick red tape, through which justice was getting harder and harder to glimpse. As mayor of Lovedale, Simha had motioned for arbitration, and called this private emergency meeting for all parties involved.
As Kanya expected, the meeting soon turned into an intense debate between Makara and Kumbha, with everyone else bearing helpless witness. Both women were intelligent and stubborn, but Kumbha was more adept at twisting language and manipulating logic to favor her argument. Makara was business savvy, but she was not as versed in legal rhetoric as Kumbha was. Kanya watched and listened as Makara tried to hold firm, but her position was slipping and they both knew it.
When Kanya looked to Simha, the mayor's eyes seemed vacant. Kanya could tell just by looking at those eyes that Simha was not really there in the room. Perhaps she was reminiscing about the past when she careened the globe in her private jet performing alternative folk rock to crowds of adoring fans. Perhaps she missed those days, and wondered now why she had ever decided to become mayor of a small Western Washington town, where she could get caught up in turf wars like these, between panicked environmental advocates and insatiable real estate developers.
Looking into those vacant eyes, all hope left Kanya. She felt certain she had come all this way just to lose everything. She felt embarrassed to be the leader of what had become a waste of everyone's time and money. She wished that she could just disappear. As the debate got tenser, she wished she could become entirely invisible.
That's when her cell phone made a loud beeping noise, and all eyes turned to Kanya. Despite her wish, everyone was suddenly reminded again of her presence. Kanya blushed, and looked at the text message from her roommate Mithuna, which was displayed on her phone. Mithuna was crafty, always getting involved in other people's business.
The text message said, "Don't worry! I've got a plan that will make everyone happy!"
PLANET TRACKER: MERCURY IN LIBRA WITH MARS & VENUS / SUN & SATURN IN VIRGO
TULA (Libra) #2
Tula stood on the threshold of her own home like a pressure cooker just before it pops. She would be boiling over with rage and conflicting wishes already, if it weren’t for the lid of civility she habitually fastened over her emotions. Turning the key was like releasing that switch. She knew she was about to blow, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
It had been a long day at her therapist’s office in downtown Lovedale. After a period of depression in which she felt particularly unworthy, Tula was now in high demand. It didn’t matter that she had left the Unitarian Church or that she had given up on her dream of creating a holistic healing center in Lovedale. She was still a relationship therapist, and no matter what else went on in the world, people would always eventually find themselves in relationships, often unhappily. Tula herself was no exception.
She had spent the day listening to people and offering them her honest feedback. First it was Mesha, whom she had approached one day after the local court proceedings to offer her help. She offered Mesha a place to vent, a sanctuary of non-judgment in a world that seemed to have turned against her. But really, Tula was desperate to feel needed again. Mesha was fiercely independent. If Tula could convince Mesha of the value of relationships, then perhaps she could save her own marriage.
After Mesha it was the unlikely couple of Vrishabha and Vrischika. The two women had been having a secret affair on and off for over a year. Nobody was supposed to know about it, but everybody did, mostly because of something Mithuna wrote in her gossip column awhile back. Tula could feel the sexual tension between these two. They were like an immovable object and an unstoppable force. The more that Vrischika grasped and held on, the more that Vrishabha pushed and held back. Tula did her best to remain objectively immune to the sizzling passion that raised the temperature in her therapy studio more than a few degrees. She listened, but all the listening in the world wouldn’t help two chronically introverted people.
“You can’t take responsibility for the other person’s needs,” Tula explained, “You are only responsible for your own needs, and in a relationship that means speaking your truth. You have to be willing to say what you feel, or else how will the other person ever know?”
It’s impossible to spew advice all day without some of it seeping into your own heart. By the time Tula came home, she felt super-charged. She no longer felt unworthy of love. She knew now that she deserved love, and when she unlocked the door and stepped into her home, she demanded it. She was no longer concerned with being nice and accommodating. She no longer cared about the ultimate balance of the relationship, about what was fair or just. It didn’t matter if she appeared to be one of those selfish, abusive, loudmouth bullies that she so disliked. All that mattered was that she express her feelings.
What happened next surprised Tula. Instead of retreating, her husband responded to her diatribe with his own rage. He became loud and obnoxious and passionate as well. And it was the biggest turn-on Tula had felt in a long time. Their anger rapidly transformed into desire, and soon they were making steamy love on the floor, happy as two whistling tea kettles.
PLANET TRACKER: VENUS IN LIBRA WITH MARS & MERCURY
VRISCHIKA (Scorpio) #2
The whole relationship counseling thing started as a kind of dare. Neither of them really wanted to see Tula. But Vrishabha had said that if Vrischika was serious about having a relationship, then she would agree to go to into therapy. Vrischika called her bluff, and now they sat unhappily in a pastel-hued room.
Vrishabha tried to appear amenable, couched as she was in a peach bean bag. Like two dueling marshmallows in a candy boxing ring, they sat in opposite corners exchanging glances. While Vrishabha sugar-coated her speech, Vrischika made no such sweet pretense of being comfortable. Sitting on a fluffy pouch full of Styrofoam beads, her posture was forced. She hadn't even taken her jacket off. Habitual creases in the leather squeaked in vexation as she tightened the fold of her arms and stared at the sea foam wall.
In that moment, Vrischika was reminded how much she hated pastels. Her favorite colors were wound red and dark-of-the-moon black.
When Tula asked what the problem was, Vrischika found herself at a loss. She honestly didn't know why things always fell apart with Vrishabha. She still clung to the reason why she'd come back to Vrishabha after so long. It was a sensation of reassuring bliss that felt as if it would go on forever. She was blind to how this beneficent ecstasy had transformed into clinging desperation and then into vindictive rage. By the time she realized it wasn't bliss anymore, she was already making threats and screaming ultimatums. But Vrischika couldn't take Tula's thinly-veiled interrogations anymore, so she interrupted her.
"Actually, I don't know what I'm doing here, besides making myself a target for the gossip-mongers of Lovedale."
Rather then offended, Tula looked surprisingly curious. In the pregnant silence, Vrischika knew she had inadvertently spoken to the root of the issue.
"Now you understand why I can't take her seriously when she says she wants a relationship," Vrishabha declared, in that furiously reasonable tone, "How can she be serious about it when she's trying to hide it?"
"Good, good..." Tula said, sickly enthusiastic about other people's dysfunctions, "Let's talk about this..."
But Vrischika's attention was suddenly whisked away. With her keen perceptions, she had sensed the faintest hum, like the buzzing of a hummingbird outside. Subtle as it was, she knew it meant something important. Then, in a cascade of cathartic recognition, she leapt from the bean bag and plunged herself under the window next to Vrishabha.
"Vrischika, what is it?" Vrishabha asked, genuine affection in her eyes.
"I'd know that sound anywhere," Vrischika told them, "It's Mithuna's scooter. You didn't tell us Mithuna was going to be here!"
"Oh, we have a late lunch date," Tula stammered, "What does it matter?"
"Don't you get it?" Vrischika scowled, "She's the worst gossip queen of them all. If she sees us here together, it's going to be all over the Gazette."
At Vrischika's insistence, Tula agreed to help them hide out. When she opened the door and greeted Mithuna, the two lovers were hidden in the corner beneath a mound of bean bags and floor pillows. Once they had gone, Vrishabha couldn't help but giggle, and Vrischika took it as a sign that their love affair wasn't over just yet. Maybe pastel wasn't so bad, thought Vrischika.
PLANET TRACKER: MARS IN LIBRA WITH MERCURY & VENUS
DHANUS (Sagittarius) #2
Dhanus turned it into a little game, to see how long she could stand it. Her goal was to turn the tables on Makara. She knew that Makara wasn't serious when she promoted Dhanus to house manager of her restaurant. She knew that Makara was trying to prove a point, by giving Dhanus more responsibility then she thought she could handle. But Dhanus also knew there was nothing she couldn't handle if she applied herself. She just had to focus her infinite, unfettered creative energy towards something, and it would turn into success. She did it last year when she agreed to live and work in Meena's art studio selling her art. She did it when the magical Naga Votive drew her into the impossible realm of the Purusha, where she was forced to exercise her inner sight. She did it over and over again in the great wilderness of the world, facing one grueling physical challenge after the next. Nothing could keep her from her goal.
Dhanus thought that Makara would be looking over her shoulder every ten seconds, waiting for her to make a mistake. As it turned out, Makara was rarely at the restaurant. Makara told Dhanus she had other responsibilities these days, and that's why she entrusted the Bistro to Dhanus' able hands. But Dhanus suspected her boss was just patronizing her. She was too much of a control queen to hand her precious business over to someone else. She suspected Makara was secretly spying on her, while giving her a false sense of freedom.
Dhanus refused to be negative about the situation. If Makara wanted to play a game, Dhanus would play along. And she'd make it fun. Dhanus would turn the restaurant into a light-hearted endeavor totally free of stress, and super-charged with friendly service. Her uplifting attitude was infectious, and the staff was soon doing their best to please the customers, without complaints.
But today, Dhanus couldn't help notice the beautiful weather outside. A crowd of her climber friends came in boasting about their morning's excursion. Dhanus itched to climb out of her professional attire and into some more rugged cloths and head for the hills, leaving all her responsibilities behind. But she remembered that this time she was climbing a different kind of mountain.
By the end of the day, Dhanus struggled to maintain her positive attitude. Yet her habitual zeal wouldn't die easy. Though she was run-down and ready for the shift to end, she let a smile bloom on her face when she saw last-minute customers at the door. It was one minute to closing and all the other servers groaned when the nicely-dressed couple walked into the otherwise empty restaurant. Dhanus generously let the other servers do their end-of-shift chores and go home, while she waited on the couple. She could tell that it was a first date, and the gentleman was trying to make a good impression. By the end of the dinner, as the woman was getting her coat, the man approached her and slipped a hundred dollar bill into her hand.
"Thanks for making my night," he winked, and walked out the door, arm in arm with his grateful date.
Dhanus looked at the money. She realized that she had deserved it, through her infinite energy and positive attitude. But the money didn't matter to her. And the customers were not the ones she was trying desperately to please. The one she was really trying to impress was nowhere to be seen, and was infinitely harder to impress than a rich businessman attempting to get laid.
PLANET TRACKER: JUPITER IN CAPRICORN
MAKARA (Capricorn) #2
With everything that was going on, Makara still insisted that she be there for Kanya. She loved Kanya like an angel. Kanya was a champion for all the good causes in the world. She looked up to Kanya, and wanted to protect her from her enemies. That's why when Kanya reached the end of her rope with the Clearwater Trial, Makara volunteered to be her advocate.
Maybe Makara liked the crisis of the trial. In some ways, as odd as it sounded when she said it aloud, Makara preferred it when things didn't come through. As much as she hadn't intended to admit it, she felt more comfortable with disappointment. She was adept at enduring difficulties and surviving failures. She could always gather her resources, pick herself up again, and simply survive. She knew how to function in the worst of circumstances. She was self-assured when all that mattered was the basic necessities of existence. She was more comfortable, to put it bluntly, with misfortune.
Now that she was rich beyond her wildest dreams, Makara didn't know what to do with herself. To Makara, more money just seemed like more stuff for which she was ultimately responsible. For example, she had inherited a gigantic house from her great aunt Lenora, and now she had to maintain it, pay property taxes, pay inheritance taxes, and pay home owner's insurance. She had the income to support it, but still it she had to stay on top of it all. The property had to be maintained, the house cleaned, and the yard gardened. The work and stress of owning a large property seemed to be endless.
Another example was Meena. She had taken on the responsibility of being Meena's business manager, and while Meena's oil paintings sold themselves, Makara still felt responsible for training Meena and re-shaping her in her own image. With her keen awareness of her own mortality, Makara knew she might not always be there for Meena, and the flighty artist needed to learn to be more fiscally responsible and business-minded. She needed to learn how to focus on things like marketing and accessibility and image. And while Makara was excited about this new world of art, there was a lot that she needed to educate herself about. It was this whole new world of possibility. There were so many diverse ways a person could make money, just by creating something from their imagination. A random moment of self-expression could become an asset to be priced and sold and traded.
Despite the allure, Makara felt uneasy around Meena's abstractions. They were decidedly without definition or boundary, and Makara felt as if she might accidentally trip and fall into one and lose herself forever. Makara didn't want to lose herself to anything. She wanted to always have her feet planted firmly on the ground. She could be destitute. She could face near-impossible adversity. She could survive any trauma or loss. But this new limitless abundance frightened her. Makara needed limits. She needed to know where the ceiling was. But the money seemed to be flowing in without end. The sky itself offered no consolation. The distant horizon was never within reach.
Makara felt as if she was riding on a balloon of hot air that could easily pop. And she didn't even know how high up she was. She couldn't see the ground anymore, much less touch it. She feared that when the bubble burst, she had a long, long way to fall.
PLANET TRACKER: SATURN IN VIRGO WITH THE SUN / JUPITER IN CAPRICORN
KUMBHA (Aquarius) #2
Kumbha had just recently managed to clear out her apartment, only to have it filled up again. In January, she had made it a resolution to organize her seemingly endless library of information. Nine months later, she had been almost entirely successful, having boxed up all of her conspiracy theory literature into file boxes, in a complicated cross-referenced configuration that made sense only to her. UFO sightings and alien abductions were now tucked neatly away.
But something in Kumbha's nature abhorred a vacuum. Her apartment was like an empty vessel wanting to be filled. Space vanished as soon as it appeared. This time her home was occupied by stacks of freshly-minted self-help books, which Kumbha had published on behalf of her friend Kanya. After Kanya had accused her of playing favorites in the Clearwater Trial, Kumbha felt the need to prove her impartiality by helping Kanya out. It had been over a year since the demure office manager had completed her book, and still she had not submitted it to a publisher. Ever altruistic, Kumbha was doing her a favor by publishing it for her. In less than a month, she already had 10,000 copies filling her apartment from floor to ceiling. Only a modest network of tunnels existed in the maze of self-help literature, connecting bedroom to kitchen and bathroom, and a modest space by the front door. The only bare spot on her kitchen counter was for the coffee maker. And in the bathroom, a plastic bag over the shower head protected the glossy paperbacks that filled her tub.
After helping the cute publishing house delivery guy unload the books, Kumbha rushed to meet with Kanya and Makara at city hall. And after enduring hours of legal negotiations arbitrated by Simha, Lovedale's mayor, Kumbha was completely exhausted. When she got home, she collapsed onto her favorite easy chair, the only piece of furniture besides her bed that wasn't lost behind the labyrinth of books. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when the doorbell rang, as time had entered into that unstructured limbo that always accompanies fatigue. She felt oddly weightless on her way to the door.
The man standing on the landing wore a neatly pressed suit. Black jacket and tie contrasted handsomely with the starched bleach-white of his button-down shirt. Impenetrable black sunglasses hid his eyes, yet somehow Kumbha perceived the professional urgency of his expression.
"Kumbha," he said, and it wasn't a question, "Special Agent Vavio. I'm with Department P." He flashed an ID too fast for Kumbha to see.
"Department P...?"
As Kumbha stood dumbfounded, Agent Vavio slipped into the room like a wet fish, and closed the door behind him.
"I'm sorry, I can't afford the usual politeness," he whispered. The lack of space in the room meant their faces were pressed close together. Kumbha could feel his cool breath on her eyelashes as he spoke. "Department P is the ultra-top-secret division of the FBI that deals with extraterrestrial threats."
"Extraterrestrial...?"
"What I'm about to say may be alarming to you."
"What do you mean, what you're about to say...?"
"According to our intelligence, there is a 98.9% chance that your friend Kanya is an alien infiltrator and a threat to human civilization as we know it."
PLANET TRACKER: SATURN IN VIRGO WITH THE SUN
MEENA (Pisces) #2
It wasn't Makara's fault that Meena was changing. At least, that's what Meena told herself. Makara was just making suggestions. She wasn't making Meena do anything. After all, Makara was working for Meena, not the other way around. And as a business manager, Makara was pretty hands-off. She had insisted that she wasn't going to meddle in Meena's creative process. Her only instructions were financial and logistical ones. For example, Makara's only instructions on this sleepy Monday morning was to get rid of all the excess.
Somehow, Meena didn't realize the enormity of that task when she started cleaning out her house. Until now, she hadn't even acknowledged her subconscious tendency to collect stuff. Meena wasn't particularly sentimental. She just wasn't very motivated to get rid of the things she accumulated. And even if she was, she wouldn't know where to begin. How do you determine what has value and what doesn't? To her, it was all the same, the constantly growing detritus of a life well lived.
She told Kataka over the phone that she was cleaning today. So when Kataka invited herself over, Meena assumed that it was to help her out with that impossible project. But soon Kataka was sitting on her couch eating her candy, doing nothing but talking about herself as usual. Meena tried to ignore how irritated she was and focused on her herculean chore.
The mess in her house was endless. She'd start on a box of books and get absorbed in it for an hour. Then she'd finally snap out of her nostalgia and realize that at her current rate, clearing everything she didn't need out of her house would take weeks. Exasperated, she picked up the box she was going through and crossed the room to where Kataka was sitting. She stopped Kataka in the middle of her self-absorbed sentence by dropping the box of books in her lap.
"Here, take it," she said, "Please..."
"Meena, this isn't like you!" Kataka exclaimed, "Since when were you into keeping things organized?"
Meena sighed, letting her irritation go. Kataka was her best friend, after all. She wasn't really mad at Kataka. Meena plopped herself down next to her on the ratty couch and explained.
"Makara says that in order to make space for what I want, I have to clear out what I don't want. She says that all of this stuff I have around and don't use is just a distraction from my success as an artist."
"I'm sorry, Meena," Kataka told her, putting a gentle palm to the back of Meena's hand, "I don't want to second-guess your business manager. But the truth is you already are a successful artist! And it wasn't organization and cleaning that made you successful. It's your talent."
Those words stuck with Meena. So much so that when Kataka left, she gave up on cleaning and hauled out her easel. She usually painted right in her living room, and the carpet had the oil stains to prove it. She had put all her art supplies away in order to make space for going through all her stuff. But now she brought out what she needed to do what she did best. Soon Meena was lost in yet another abstract journey of shape and color. No, Makara would never change her. Meena would never abandon her creative spirit for the hollow prize of business savvy.
PLANET TRACKER: JUPITER IN CAPRICORN / MOON IN PISCES
The LADIES of LOVEDALE
David Ray’s Horo*Soaps, Volume 2 © 2008 by D.Ray
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