The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius

Art by Christian Schloe

“The Age of Aquarius demands that we hold a worldview that none of us is separate from one another nor from the planet.”

― Andrew Lutts, How to Live a Magnificent Life: Becoming the Living Expression of Higher Consciousness

Nine months have passed since I wrote The End of the World As We Know It here in March. Sleep-walking and numb for much of the year, I’ve watched my former life peel away like the layers of a rotting onion. I’ve packed each bit up in tissue paper and newsprint, and shipped it off to parts unknown.

Now, I find myself waking from this blur of a year, trying to rinse the bad taste from my mouth. At the same time, I feel blessed and grateful for what I’ve learned. I feel grateful for the shedding of my old skins and the emergence of a different, lighter ‘me.’

My losses gutted me and put me on my knees. My marmalade cat, Emma, died in mid-May.

I lost two people to suicide and several of my students have had Covid-19.

My mother struggled with the isolation of the lockdown.

I’ve been numb with grief, working hard to put one foot in front of the other. Through all of it though, I realize that without our sorrows, the rest of our lives wouldn’t be as sweet.


The world we once knew, is gone.

Make no mistake. Things are different and won’t go back to the way it was.

If you are throwing yourself against this tide of monumental change, valiantly pretending you are strong enough to buck the current and continue heading back, you will be sorely — not to mention — bitterly disappointed.

That world is gone.



Anyone who knows me, knows of my fascination and passion for both the mystical and the mysterious.

I love the esoteric. Things like astrology, tarot, the i Ching, and semiotics captivate me. I savor the idea that messages meant for me can be found in the books I happen upon and the billboards that catch my eye.

There are messages everywhere if you are paying attention.

This terrible, tumultuous, transformative year is just that.

It’s a message in a bottle, washing up from a river mucky with our dreams and nightmares.

There are angels and monsters in the mix. There always are.

However, we are here because we chose to be here for this shift.

What it is offering us is nothing short of a truly transcendent opportunity to completely change direction and, likely, save the planet and ourselves in the process.

People, Get Ready.

“The great sun, moving in the heavenly houses, has left the House of the Fishes for the House of the Water-bearer. In the coming age shall humanity be holy, and in the perfection of the human, shall we find the humane.”

— Dion Fortune, The Sea Priestess

Next month, on the winter solstice, (December 21, the longest night of the year) the Age of Aquarius begins.

A portal to dramatic and permanent change like this last happened 800 years ago when the Magna Carta was signed.

The Age of Aquarius heralds big shifts, as we re-envision and re-build our communities and cultures to be more humane, inclusive, collaborative, creative and sustainable. It offers us a chance to shift our focus from ‘me’ to ‘we.’

If we choose to make this profound shift, the world will transform as it never has before.

Obstacles are detours in the right direction. — Gabby Bernstein

Writing this year has been elusive and difficult. Mostly, I felt like I had nothing to say. I was mute with sadness and, in a strange way, amazement. We’re witnessing history. We standing on the edge of an abyss, about to take flight.

Don’t get me wrong. As excited as I am for the changes I see coming, I am also soaking in the terrible sadness of losing a quarter of a million people to an invisible invader, a virus that lingers in the air and sets up shop in our lungs – shutting down the very thing that sustains us – our breath.

For awhile, I almost stopped breathing, simply out of sorrow and grief.


The world disappeared under our feet.

And we are falling and falling and falling.

I am offering my hand to you – to anyone struggling in the bleakness of this moment of ‘no longer that’ and ‘not quite yet.’

As I fall, I feel icy cold air stinging my skin.

But I also see the stars, poking through a riotous crowd of clouds, offering a glimpse of the wonder that’s on its way.

© 2020  Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved

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2 thoughts on “The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius

  1. These are beautiful words, invoking both sadness and hope. I am sad to hear of your losses but glad that you keep moving forward and embrace each new experience, good and bad. It is all we can do.

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