Pavarotti’s Ascension
Written on September 28, 2007 by Noah
September 6, 2007 I arrived for work in the predawn light looking in wonder over the evergreens from the stern of the vessel at the Moon’s waning crescent and Venus equidistant from the still sleeping Sun thinking I must pay more attention to this visual astrology. Later in the day I hear Pavarotti has left this world. Checking ‘Starlight’ Venus (Pavarotti’s Libra Sun depositor and planet of singers) is a shiny morsel next to the head of Hydra in part described as the Serpent-goddess who receives the souls of the dead unto new birth. Leo’s circular mane stood proud just breaking the horizon, later Saturn, cloaking the great Lions heart Regulus climbed amid the rosy fingered dawn. In my ongoing lessons of detachment and insight I find the stability of the sky a great comfort and our connection to the stars an evocative link to our ancient past.
Michael (chironmoonbeam)
If you enjoyed this post Subscribe to our feed
This same moving sky story also illumines the death of a local (Seattle) girl, Gloria Strauss, who lost her 4-year battle with a nasty childhood cancer on Sep 22. This girl’s story had been covered with great insight and compassion by a local reporter for five month, and greatly affected a lot of people, since it also involved looking at the complex impacts of the sickness and ultimate loss of a child on a family of staunch religious faith.
She died at around 6:50 am - just at dawn. The image of being carried up in the fiery boat of the sun is almost irresistible; that her mother termed her death ‘her rising’ in a final interview is especially striking. People use our language and resonate with our symbols and don’t even know it.
The morning jewel of Venus by the Hydra’s head seems to describe her very well, especially since her parents said that after her body was washed ane prepared, she suddenly looked like a grown young woman, not an 11-year-old girl. It’s probably not a coincidence that the Sun occupied the very last degree of Virgo that day.
Marcia