Two Sounds that Sound Great Together


Today's solar eclipse in Libra cries out for us to regard harmony as a worthy ethic… not just in a vacuum of ideal vision ('oh, if only we could get along…') but through living it. Together.

The eclipse cries aren't piercing or raucous. Nor are they particularly straightforward in their message. In deference to social courtesy, Libra doesn't often employ direct terms to say exactly what it means, but rather couches its intent in loosely veiled suggestion. Read between the perfunctory ploys of appearing considerate (on your part and theirs) to discover the real call to negotiate interpersonal differences. It ain't always so damn polite.

Harmony is a combination of sounds that sound good when played together. Each individual sound emits its own pitch, whether it's playing alone or with others. Its fundamental nature does not change. It is whole in itself.

Harmony's beautiful music emerges when individual sounds blend. Its rich tone is greater than the sum of its parts. It's never, ever a one-note wonder. That would go against its very definition.

Some notes sound good together, and some don't. Some combinations comprise the more predictable chords, so pleasing in their predictability because they go so well together. These are our most recognizable resonances, the ones with the pure mathematical affinity to populate our pop songs. Other combinations are edgier, artier, more avant-garde. They challenge the ear with atonal complication. When their mix is well orchestrated, it's pure magic. When it's not, what a rackety disaster.

Every note has its harmonious matches and its discordant antagonists. We listen to certain songs over and over, singing jubilantly (…or robotically, soullessly…) along with every rise and fall of the chorus. With others, one ear-splitting listen is more than enough.

This Libran eclipse, falling as it does while Venus and Mars (now retrograde) oppose each other, presents the demands of cooperative coexistence under notably hairy circumstances. As I mentioned last week, the necessary balance between 'me' and 'us' is harder to hatch than usual… and yet more important than ever to our well-being.

'Me' faces the Mars-retrograde fluster, an inherently frustrating message from the universe to keep at it despite slowdowns and setbacks and back-to-the-drawing-boards, to patiently grapple with inertia or resistance or the need to jog around the block or stay in bed an extra couple hours instead of perpetually postponing those little perks of personal pleasure. 'Me' needs to hold on and hold tight, more now than ever.

'Us' is the unholy union of 'me' and 'me', independent entities trying to make beautiful music together while separately confronting the Mars message. The 'stay strong in self' tactics required to hold firm on the individual level have their necessary consequences for the relationship. The stronger we are ourselves, the more glaring the differences between us appear. Note: These startlingly gaping rifts have always been there, or their seeds were planted long ago and only now are showing sprouts.

How we navigate the changing landscape of 'us' is the theme of this chapter in our lives, inaugurated by this eclipse period and extending through the next one in Mar 06. Whichever house in our natal chart is activated by the solar eclipse signifies the area of life where we must weigh personal desires with concessionary measures. And that's trickier than it sounds.

Too far one way and I'm a spineless codependent, doing whatever will make you happy (or shut you up) and repressing my own self-directed energies so resentment can accumulate and I can blame you later for my dreams going unfulfilled.

Too far the other and I'm a egotistical blowhard, so unwilling to inconvenience myself with the successes and struggles of your life that I'm willing to throw our connection away rather than bend in the winds of interrelation.

Somewhere in the middle, I pledge to take the time and space I need for myself, so I can feel like my own whole person, committed to accomplishing my goals and looking out for my personal satisfaction on my own, rather than relying too much on you to 'make it all okay'. I can only do it for myself. If I can't do it for me, I certainly can't do it for you.

And because I take this time and space, I won't be as distracted by my own selfish concerns when we are together. I can be more fully present for you, a better listener, a more flexible respondent, a true team player. I'm giving myself what I need, so I needn't misbehave with you in a childish attempt to gain your attention, respect or love. I'm humble enough to learn from you, and confident enough to offer and suggest without condescension or insistence. We appreciate and enjoy each other's input.

I do my own thing, and you do yours. Each of us is whole in our self.

We also do our thing, together. We complement, rather than complete, each other. A beautiful harmony indeed.