Breagh

Breagh is my sister's Golden Retriever. The name Breagh means 'beautiful' in Gaelic, and she's definately a dog who knows her own name, being so used to people stopping her in the street to remark in sheer amazement at the embodiment of loveliness that she is. She accepts all compliments from her fans with a real celeb-style blend of grace and modesty; a professional gratitude expressed with such art you'd never know that underneath she would prefer the compliments to take the form of biscuits.

Anyway, my sister rang the other day to tell me what happened when they were out on their favourite walk. Breagh had somehow accidently run right into my sister, knocking her over and out cold for a couple of minutes. Bree was completely unharmed and unfazed by the incident while my poor sis bore the brunt of the impact, and was left with an impressive shiner on one eye, as well as assorted aches and pains.
It seems she had been calling to her at the end of their walk, Bree was on top of a hill and suddenly had taken it upon herself to be very obedient for once in her life, and began a fast run back to base. My sister was leaning forward in encouragement while our unusually compliant doggy came hurtling down a steep slope straight for her... and apparently the result would have made a great video for one of those t.v. shows where the general public make money out of slapstick mishaps, you know the ones showing the full consequences of trying to cross rivers using a rope swing tied to an insufficent branch, or of staring too closely into a hosepipe to see what the blockage is, or of that classic yuletide over-reach on a wobbly step ladder while attempting to place that final Christmas tree decoration...

As soon as it became clear that no real harm had been done I could have a look at the astrology of it all. I never get tired of searching for those symbols at work in an event; my astrologer brain seems to automatically kick into gear with an insatiable and fixated curiousity to mentally check transits and synastry in an attempt to build an astro picture of any moment in question. Obviously I waited an appropriate amount of time to share my eagerness at the findings (ie, when the bruising began to subside), but this incident looked destined from the start to become part of my ongoing research, to be ultimately catalogued as yet more evidence of the innate cosmic symmetry seeded within all events great or small.

It's because sis and B are Scorpio's. And both their Sun's were conjunct transiting Jupiter you see. Which locks into the equation the triangle of planets that is currently in such strong formation (Saturn opposite Chiron, squared by Jupiter). It all happened when Saturn was still sharing the same degree as Mars (co-ruler of Scorp), at the time when these two planets were rising, and also sitting on the 6th house cusp (health and pets) of my sisters chart. And then there's Chiron. Currently right on Breagh's Neptune, Chiron is the Ouch Factor in any chart, being associated with wounds and painful experiences.

My sister was understandably less enthusiastic than I at the proposal that her experience was another example of cosmic perfection in full flow, but that might also have been because she was still smarting from the final chapter in the events of the day; as when she was safely back home and stretched out on the sofa, with a packet of frozen blueberries to serve as an ice-pack for her eye, Breagh climbed up on the chair next to her, laying her blonder than blonde head on my sister's shoulder, and fixing her velvet brown gaze on her good eye. Which made her think Breagh had finally realised something had happened between her and her beloved owner, that the Neptune haze had lifted and the awareness was now prompting her to offer canine style comfort, like Lassie would no doubt have done. But no, turns out it was just a ruse to get near enough to nibble inconspicuously at those fast melting blueberries.


technorati: astrology, scorpio, jupiter, chiron, saturn