We're bringing each sign some messages and truisms for Aries season, courtesy of BUST's resident astrologer, Emmalea Russo. Catch her seasonal 'scopes in BUST's print magazine.
The joystick of your life is aglow, just how you like it, with pure solar power. This time around, the Sun heats up a memo that heals your relationship with your most badass companion: yourself.
“To be young was to be more closely rooted to the thing that forms you,” wrote Rachel Kushner. Call it earth, call it nature, call it ground. Whatever it is, you’re close to it. You get to lie down and listen as it tells you how you got born.
“My mission is to communicate, to wake people up, to give them my energy and accept theirs,” said Patti Smith. Your wheeling and dealing in energy exchanges this month, refreshing folks with your linguistic tricks and receiving infinite quirky wisdom when you listen.
You’ve been brooding lately, a thing at which you’re quite good. But now the Sun is blazing hot at the roots of your roots, rebirthing you in a familiar way. It’s golden. Like some ancient clamor is calling you by your name and it’s more glamorous than you’d initially thought — so you stay.
You’ve got no fucking time for chit-chat. Just do it, you think. And then, you do it. And whatever you “do” this month might feel like art. Even hovering over your work table solo feels like you’re divinely partying at the gates of the Sun itself. Cool.
You’re getting a crash course in the realm of the physical. Arduous labor can equal spiritual insight, you might find. You might also find what you’ve suspected all along — the body is a more reliable oracle than the mind.
You know better than most that we’ve got one Sun with many, many angles. This current angle offers you a view of your loves: past, present, and future. A sweet opportunity for you. But should you get confused, remember Jean Rhys’ words, “I am the only real truth I know….”
The Sun’s gone rogue. But you’re into what’s rogueish and unkempt so you’re keen to roam around in an unknown space for a while. You don’t have to get anything done. You can lounge for a bit in the lustrously dingy space of sex, death, and rock 'n' roll.
“What they teach you in school doesn’t prepare you for life,” said Joey Ramone. You’ve lived by this mantra for awhile now, but this month it’s a refrain that plays loudly. The Sun shoots you into higher octave knowledge of the spiritual and occult variety.
Where are things not cohering? Rachel Kushner said this is where “truth cracks open.” If the ways the internet and world at large regard you lately feel scattered, confused, paradoxical; it’s also prismatic, nuanced, and hot. You needn’t appear cohered.
The world’s current predicament seems to be organizing itself around what you’ve been hypothesizing for years. You’re like, duh. And also you’re like, fuck. There is something in your brand of light that makes us all want to band together. Show us the way.
It could feel as though the Sun’s gone delinquent — wearing a leather jacket and zooming through the desert on a motorcycle. You can feel it dashing through your psyche shouting something like: be the badass you wish to see in the world.
Top photo by Camille Chew
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Emmalea Russo is a writer and astrologer. Her work appears in BOMB, The Brooklyn Rail, Cosmopolitan, The Thirlby, Los Angeles Review of Books, Hyperallergic, and elsewhere and her books are G (2018) and Wave Archive (2019). She has been a writer-in-residence at 18th Street Arts Center (LA) and Lower Manhattan Cultural Council (NY). Emmalea writes and podcasts on astrology and art at The Avant-Galaxy. Book an astrology reading here or follow her on Instagram: @emmaleaXrusso