Sunday Mar 9

The last two days have been an agonizing portal, though I can’t say with certainty what set them off. There are alternate frames through which to explore a question like that.

One could take an astrological lens, noting that the retrograde—the apparent reversal of motion from Earth’s reference frame—of Venus, for a chart with Libra rising, where Venus is the lagna lord and stands strong in her home rashi of Taurus, would bring immense challenge.

Or I could shift to the spirit possession frame and recognize that welcoming in entities without firm boundaries allows them temporary control over my agency. In those moments, I am not only feeling my own agony but the unwitnessed suffering of spirits who linger without form.

And oh, what agony it is to be without a physical body! There is nothing like it!

Most humans, while alive, fear Death—and rightly so. No matter what grief or pain you have witnessed, when Death comes knocking, when it wrenches you from your body, each minute cell of your soul clinging desperately to each minute cell of your flesh, a fragile bridge between the astral and the physical dissolving at every point of the connection. You have not known agony like that. The impact is akin to the full-body dissociation of young-age forced sodomy—but in that moment, at least, you know you are landing back, you have some felt sense that this will pass. But at death, the dissociation is complete.

Suddenly, you are a formless mass in the astral realm, carrying all your unprocessed disgust like a heavy, stinking Ogre—the astral embodiment of physical malaise and depression. And in your unreadiness to move on, you find a host to latch onto, transferring that same felt sense of malaise, feeling an odd comfort as they writhe in agony alongside you. Often unable to speak of it, often unable to share it with any living being, their throat blocked by the weight of your disgust, unable to differentiate themselves from you.

It does not matter how much self-love they held for themselves just days before, how strong and alive they felt just last week. The shock of how foreign they feel when they briefly identify with you jolts them back into the writhing.

This is where a regular strength training routine matters—moving heavy weights in a slow, controlled manner reminds the body who holds true agency.

That little voice inside, the one speaking soft encouragement—Come on now, just hop out of bed. Eat something simple for strength. Wash your face with water. Add more salt. Be in the presence of holy spirits. Sage the house. Take an Epsom salt soak. Do not entertain the same patterns of romance you have already outgrown. Light a candle. Massage yourself. Sleep more if you need, but set a timer. Clean the house so the exterior does not resemble an ogre’s den. Dress well. Go for a walk. Write it out, so the ogre receives the witnessing it needs from the collective.

You get the drift. In those moments of agony, that little voice—that is the true you.