A gentle haze | Oct. 24 Removing 15,000 words a week (give or take a few thousand either way) from my writing schedule has taken some time to adapt to. That process started about six weeks ago, by the way -- on the eve of the lunar eclipse. Many changes since, and I know that had I not done it, I would have got myself into serious trouble: overwork and living on the verge of exhaustion cannot be sustained forever, and I did what I would modestly suggest to any client who was struggling with a similar problem. I've probably cut back half of my writing, all of which was for an audience. The intensity of focus that I had to maintain to do that volume and intensity of work basically consumed all my psychic bandwidth and energy -- creative and otherwise. Gradually and in small ways, I am realizing I have time to both live and think about my life, and to explore other ideas. Every single day is not pre-programmed, often hour to hour. The other part is about having a little more time to consider how I feel and what my perspective is. Writing daily for an audience, you pretty much go on autopilot, and trust that you've seen enough of life to be able to put something new into context. New Orleans, the tsunami and the stolen elections (and their consequences) really push that skill, however. What can you say to a tidal wave? I'm getting a fair amount of email from people who miss my original daily blog, which predominantly dealt with world affairs and was a kind of stabilizing filter for a world that is arguably descending into darkness. Thanks for your notes and your sincerity. I recognize how necessary it is for us to have some source of information that provides perspective. I depend on Judith Gayle for mine. Creating that perspective is a big job because it amounts to making sense of senseless things. Most political commentary misses that mark because for the most part it's just about how senseless things are, and nobody can rest or find a moment of faith there. The problem I see with most political commentary is that it is oblivious to the experience of the reader. I read a lot of this stuff and it's like, often there is no perception of a reader experiencing the writing. (To write good horoscopes all you need to do know is a little astrology, and recognize that a real person is reading. It's not so hard.) I'm aware a lot of people are scared about the way things are going, particularly if one has a mind wide enough to consider the many implications of a world where the resources and focus are frequently, and in the very long term, going to killing people, or stealing from them (us, that is). This is particularly so if one can feel the developments and not just perceive them externally. I would imagine this is overwhelming without a means to process or express the experience of "the world," and that in some respects, shutting down is a perfectly understandable response. I know that most people just cannot express what they see and feel, and we all look to others to help put it into words. Easing back the constant necessity to do that has given me a chance to rest the part of my mind that for years got no rest at all. It's been a little disorienting as I slowly reintegrate with the flow of life and not just ideas, and acquaint myself with different flows of ideas as well. I've slowly started to find a more natural rhythm to living (though you can still find me up many nights at 4 am working with Anatoly, who lives one time zone later, doing landscaping on Planet Waves and my new site http://BookofBlue.com ). It's a little strange to walk around during the day and not have the constant necessity to process new information into writing. Writing astrology, most of what I do now, is relatively easy (in modest doses) because it's like illustrating something rather than explaining it, or proving it. I'm familiar enough with myself to know that if I relax into the experience, and keep easing back on the pressure to produce, that I'll discover a new world of feelings and ideas to express. Meanwhile right now I'm much more interested in people, the truly beautiful and generous people I collaborate with every day, and the new ones I meet here and there.     e          cloudy Tuesday late afternoon, Brussels