“Sacred Trickery and the Way of Kindness,” by Alejandro Jodorowsky, with Gilles Farcet
Today, 6/14/21, Saturn squares Uranus
for the second time. These transits
aren’t comfy, and they are
a dance. Saturn and Uranus do
their best to write love
letters, again.
Dear Uranus,
I don’t know what to say
to you. I don’t know what
I can say to you. Power
is the only game
I know. I see it in all
situations. I stopped
seeing people. I stopped
seeing you. And maybe
I never really have seen
you. I will admit, I am
ruthless, and I do not know
who you are. I only knew
who I could manipulate
you into, before you broke
loose, but you keep ebbing
back into the corners of my mind.
I can’t get rid of you, no matter
how much I tell myself morals are
subjective, and philosophize my way
out of the pain of you. Still
you linger like a phantom limb.
I see you shimmer, but I don’t
know how to talk to you.
I keep thinking, fate
will wash you into me,
if it exists. I hide in books.
I pretend they are enough.
I miss playing with you.
I have become too old
to apologize, but I can’t
forget you.
Love, Saturn
Dear Saturn,
You are right. You do not know
me. You only see me as a dream.
You cage me up in your own
fantasies, not caring how
dream-walkers weep. When I was
a teen, I wrote my father
a letter. I told him I desired to live
into the dream that was dreaming me.
I begged for freedom. I woke up,
full grown, in your prison. Are you
the dream that dreams me? Are you
sure you dream at all? Do you ever
risk the vulnerability of stepping into
what you cannot see? I have learned
to walk with my eyes closed, or open
to the blackness all around me.
A spark now blooms there, like a rose.
It smells like you. I have no home.
I do not fear. I welcome you
and death, and life, and love
and tears. I found the dream
that was dreaming me. Nothing is
ever as it seems, but at least there
is truth now, growing from the edges
of belief.
Love,
Uranus