14 BYE, MOM.

One other task of Saturn, Greek Chronos, the lord of time, is to mark the cycles of growth and maturity, as it relates to the wisdom and experience obtained through time, with the elderly and their end of life, and therefore with the death.

When I was very close to my Midheaven (MC), the highest part of a map Astral, representing one of the parents, Saturn marked my orphanhood.

My mother, just turned eighty-two, died. Regardless of my age, nor the years passed, it hurts. It hurts to be alone, not to hear her voice, not to feel her hugs, the scent of her books.  It hurts to think on picking the phone up to call her and confirm that she returned home safe but all the sudden to remember she is no longer there. It hurts me to remember her last call for help when she could no longer pronounce a word. It hurts the distance between our cities which prevented me from coming to her aid. The memory that hurts to know that I had to thank her for my life, because knew there would be no other chance.

Jupiter, whom she called "the great benefactor", activated the Moon as well, representing the mother in my map chart. Just as it expands and seeks to always keep growing, my mother extended in the same way my universe. Saturn made its harsh job, and completed her life cycle.

It just happened suddenly; I called her, she picked up the phone, but she couldn't speak anymore. I contacted one of my sisters, and she rushed with a neighbor who came to her help while my other sister arrived.

I spent a couple of nights in hospital caring for her stroke. As soon as my son, the Sun in Aries, appeared in the hallway, my mother died. Her funeral served at her home, among her furniture and close to her neighbors. I collected her peacock feathers, her creams, her lipsticks, her pajamas; some of her books, her Tarot cards and other gadgets that only I knew existed and brought them with me home.

With Sun in Sagittarius she defended her freedom and autonomy until the end of her life. She left a halo of strength behind her. She left her outbursts of anger, which were not few, and of optimistic joy, dwell in my memories; her great courage with her notes with reflections on herself; her challenges she never overcame. I also brought them with me. My brother, my three children, a great companion and I, placed her ashes next to those of my father in an open place, with a spectacular view, as she requested.

At some point in her life se became ill and her kidneys failed but she refused to die, she recovered and lived five more decades. It was light for many people, as an English teacher and a great typewriting support to my father's secretarial academy. Years after that, as an Astrologist, as a Reichian massage therapist, as a counselor.

She practiced meditation, Tai Chi, solar breaths, explored the old ruins of Tepozteco, was also a spiritual medium and healed the ill people.

She always enjoyed smoking a good cigar, drinking coke or enjoying a good piece of steak. She knew famous TV announcers, great businessmen, Huichols Indians, strange characters who made inventions with colored energy boxes with forks like antennas, to capture the energy of the universe and recharge the body. She knew so many people who sometimes greeted her and couldn't remember who they were, but she answered their greetings and chat with them. Hours later she would remember them and their stories.

The closeness of my Moon to Uranus explains and makes sense of many things regarding my mother, but impresses me when trying to understand how much Moon in Libra fits in from my astral chart. 

Speaking of mom...

 

She's my mother; a brave woman, who found her Vasalissa and did not hesitate to remove the red slippers that life imposed on her to start a life made by hand.

One day she let her wings grow ... and so she taught me how to grow my wings.

Who in the midst of mantras, spiritual initiations, ashrams, screams and hats, ear pullings and the occasional slap, she inherited me a healthy body, a good education and gave me astrology as my main mean of a spiritual life.

Exploring the mystical old ruins of the Tepozteco ridge, she taught me freedom is fulfilled in consciousness and requires tribute. 

Facing adversity, she stood and laughed out loud, mocking herself when there was no other choice. 

From a corner she let Baubo peer in, like a fearful shy girl.

I remember my life by her side surrounded by books, the Om Namaha Shivaya, new age explorations of all kinds, folk songs and coffee with milk.

Her house is only missing the oldest signs of aging, the plants growing through the drains and always there is a lit candle between Christ, Buddha, the Virgin of Guadalupe, Krishna and the grandparents.

Being there feeds my soul. 

My mother, just a facet of a woman, who learned to howl and who would like my actions would honor her life and her determination to live it.

December 15, 1981, next to my mother prior to her interview at "Hoy Mismo" news cast with Guillermo Ochoa and Lourdes Guerrero.