Aries season

Today is the vernal equinox, when the sun enters Aries and we wash away the dead of winter. From here, there is more light than dark. From here, we allow ourselves to relearn how not to doubt ourselves. Most of us celebrate the beginning of a new year on January 1st, when all of humanity comes together to burn away the previous year’s heartache—but if there’s any one time of year that truly encapsulates our human need to take action, to be on the precipice of great change, to be born again from the ashes of our failures, it’s Aries season.

Winter was a time of reflection. A deep dive into the void and all the unhealthy ways we try to fill it—through sex, through love, through drugs, obsession. Anything to distract from the sheer what-the-fuck-is-the-point of it all. During Pisces season, we are vessels. Winter forces us to be nothing—to discard the wants of living in a body, the pain, the hard husk of it—and once we’ve learned the power that nothingness holds, the potential that brims at the edges of its dark vastness, Spring gives us clarity. It lifts the fog and clears the confusion. We learn to forget the pain of having ever been born, which in turn relieves us of the knowledge that we will ever die.

Maybe that’s the real secret to living in the moment: an active state of denial about the future.

But the beauty of Aries season is it doesn’t concern itself with what-ifs. It doesn’t contemplate mortality. It doesn’t lie awake waiting for a metaphorical text back from the universe, or any sort of confirmation that we are on the right path. As far as Aries is concerned, there is no path—there is only now. And in this shift in energy there is a sort of alchemy; we are finally able to let go of whatever is keeping us from becoming all the people we are about to become and leading all the lives we’ve yet to lead. We have been through the worst of it, we have survived death yet another year. And we cannot let ourselves die with any of our potential untapped.

But in the void’s defense, I don’t think we’d be this hell-bent on being hell-bent if we didn’t have the motivation of heartbreak pushing us forward.

I copied this poem by Rainer Maria Rilke down in my first journal, and I believe it captures the aura of Aries season so well:

You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
So many people live on and want nothing
And are raised to the rank of prince
By the slippery ease of their light judgements
But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.
You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.
You have not grown old, and it is not too late
To dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.

What many people tend to get wrong is that Aries season is not action in the sense of getting shit done—it is about the action of purely being alive. It is being born in the purest sense. It is action for the sake of action. Action for the sake of being human and wanting to feel it because you can, because you want to. Action like impulsive, purely physical, non-emotional sex. Action in being direct in how you communicate with others, whether with a boss or a partner or a friend. Action like the power of visibility, of existing as someone consistently silenced and how refusing to go away is a radical act in and of itself. Action like picking yourself up after a bad day. Action like radical self-love and taking super hot mirror selfies, because there’s no reason not to feel like a badass bitch.

Aries season, above all else, is about fun. And after the endless self-reflection and deep ruminating of winter, don’t we deserve it? Don’t we deserve life after we’ve experienced death? Shouldn’t we get to come out from the void clean and sparkly on the other end, finally free of all the guilt we’ve spent the last eleven months building up?

As we welcome the much-awaited start of Spring, of a new astrological year, and of the hope of a renewed or refined purpose, remember the year behind you. Remember that, while it is a part of you, your past does not confine you. Neither does your present. Neither does your future. Take the time to thank the past years’ bullshit for all it has given you. Now you’re ready to feel again, and know that you deserve it. Now, you’re ready to bloom.