My eccentric, highly sensitive women

Musing Scorpio Moon                                                                   I had three grandmothers. Sylvia was the one I spent the most time with - we practically lived together.         All three of us shared Scorpio’s field, but Sylvia’s Moon in Scorpio left the deepest imprint on my life. With her, I experienced the full spectrum of emotions.

I see astrology as a language of the subconscious.          - with its own alphabet, symbols, sensitivities, boundaries, and paradoxes. Some use it as a personal tool for evolutionary transformation. It's a vast universe with many layers, niches, and potential derailment         - far more than a simple horoscope reading.               The Moon in Scorpio is currently transiting my first house, and I found myself walking the "Street of Goodness" within, thinking about Sylvia. Her perception of emotions, remarkable intuition, and her unique sensitivity helped shape who I am. One of my vivid memories is astronomical, not astrological.             I remember Sylvia leaping through a summer window with an astronomy book bigger than she was.              She described it to me in such detail that I could feel the paper's texture, smell its scent, and see its color. With a lamp and a garden, she studied the stars. Years later, I found myself doing the same in a different garden, same sky. It was with Sylvia that I first discovered the idea of Journaling - a sacred discipline for her. Her impeccable diction, the ability to recite for hours, her clothing, accessories, and refined manners made me constantly wonder: how was she formed, and how had she transformed over time? I’ve inherited her stubbornness and her grace under pressure.        And her brown eyes - with all the detailed shades I now notice. From her, I learned that letting go should be in service of your own dreams, not in service of others’ expectations. Her humor - always polite but deeply cutting - calibrated our conversations instantly.          Our debates were endless, because I never got lost in her imagination, nor did I copy it. Between us stood the stories of her mother-in-law, Zoe, who had also been her biology teacher. Both women were forces of transformation and individuation in a world that offered them little room to thrive. Sylvia began by studying constellations. Zoe famously said she wouldn’t leave this world until she saw a human land on the Moon. She did. A few days later, she left. Period. Yes, I’ve had access to my transgenerational stories - and while it’s been an advantage, it’s never been the central focus. More like a background explanation, something to lean on as I move forward. My overly high tolerance - I've come to realize - wasn’t meant to encourage others' projections or unprocessed patterns. Being able to detect patterns instantly and understanding what's really unfolding behind others’ behaviors can make you extremely exposed, no matter how many boundaries you try to set. As a psychologist friend reminded me yesterday, most people who show up in introspective workshops or therapy rooms aren’t there for themselves - but for the diagnoses of those around them. Today, I laughed when another "13" in my life drew a conclusion in her unmistakable Mercurial way: "You function like Sherlock Holmes, and people show up expecting a Houdini show!" I laughed, but beneath the surface, I wasn’t feeling so calm. Would’ve been an honor, if that were really the case. Another person once told me, after one of our conversations:"You were exposed too early to the intelligence and experience of your newsroom colleagues." I was too tired to respond. Maybe I was raised in an environment where people bore a heavy responsibility for the fates of others. They were focused on their evolution, whatever their external reality - and without needing to perform their value. They were too busy with life, with family, with the architecture of their inner worlds, with generational trauma. An alpha has other agendas.   From my daily lessons over the past years, I know this: Some of us perceive more details, hear the nuances between silences, and feel the rhythm of unspoken thoughts. It's a gift - until it becomes a target. Over time, I’ve come to understand that my sensitivity, inherited from these strong women, is not just an inner compass. It’s also a kind of projector            - illuminating the unprocessed emotions of those around me. I’ve been told it’s “my fault” people felt uncomfortable around me. That I tolerated too much. That I attracted both people - and their storms.  Perhaps some relationships were a strange dance between generosity and depletion. But to blame myself for how others chose to act? No, that’s not on me. And one day, I was told it’s called synesthesia.    And suddenly, everything fell into place. This is my gift to  my enigmatic Moons…

“Good afternoon! That’s a beautiful scarf!” I smile.         “It was my grandmother’s. I’m wearing it with me today.”

🧭 Pluto in Aquarius ♒