The Aeon


With mounting trepidation, the questions fall from her mind, clattering loudly down the stairs behind her, contrasting wildly with her careful tread. To where will she walk? To what decision? To what fate? To what end? What will The Aeon bequeath her? All that she has embraced and all that she has denied will stand behind her now, and she will arrive to answer her maker, naked, alone and lost in the sea of her dreams. Every measured step reflects her expectancy and the sense of unknowing that she feels inside; what will happen along the way? What lovers will be encountered and what finale will arise?.

Eventually she arrives at the door, and passing through the vivid blue and orange silken stream that honours the portal, she steps out into an arid, biblical land, redolent of Jordan. She finds herself walking along the bed of an invisible river that flows secretly in
powerful swathes beneath the apparently barren surface, waiting for its moment to emerge in fertility and grace at the exact moment that requires it.
She does not walk alone today, for the valley is filled with other creatures, some of them animal and some of them human, although none of them look at each other, they are all walking with their heads down, concentrating on navigating the stony path that lies beneath their feet. Carefully judging each step, they are finding their way towards their own particular destinations, each and every one of them programmed to arrive at a certain time and at a certain place. Although they may meet others on the way, in reality, others have no meaning on their path, and it is all about the journey that they will take in order to reach their final point of call.

Every now and then she passes someone who is resting, someone who has sat down and wanted to wait, in the dusty red earth, though for what she is not sure, and then occasionally there is someone who has laid down in a manner that leads her to believe
that they will never rise again. Have they given up the journey she wonders, died without reaching the end, or have they perhaps become overwhelmed by the pressure of the ever growing heat, the relentless dust and the narrowing of the channel in which they walk. The inevitable crush of bodies intensifies as they as they all crowd towards the narrow neck in the mountain pass way beyond them, the narrow opening that leads to a whole new world. She feels like she is suffocating, so she tries not to let her breathing increase too much, panic could be a death knell at this stage of the operation. She can see that she is nearly there, although she knows too, that this is only the beginning, the realisation that will bring her to the next stage, the birth and the shock of the new. Finally she gets her turn, and she pushes through the gap at the end of the narrow gorge, forgetting in an instant the stressful and pressured feeling that she has endured for so long.

Rolling down warm sand dunes, she comes to rest on a long stretch of beach, the sand bathed by a sea of indigo blue which fades into sparkling turquoise as it laps onto the glistening bone white shore.
Standing before the sea, she realises that she is heavily pregnant, unwieldy and ungainly, a new life, a daughter, lying heavy in her womb. To get some relief from the exhaustion of her journey, she takes off all her clothes and immerses herself in the warm salty water, allowing it to support and envelope her in its calming arms. Relaxing into the beautiful turquoise water, she rolls and plays like a seal, watching the distant mountains reaching for the sun across the cerulean sky. She is filled with the love of the child that grows peacefully in her womb, as it unites the past, the present and the future, showing her how all her roads have led her here to this one spot, in this one place, in this time of now.
Back on the shore, rested and at peace, she wonders at the beauty around her, knowing that she is in a time of waiting, in which no one will know the real outcome. She knows that the process is hidden from her eyes, occurring on another level, gradually building and developing. She can help it, much like she can help her baby to grow, but the end result will never be a certainty, it will always has its own volition.

The weight of her belly returns, bringing a feeling of responsibility, together with the desire to know, to understand the outcome, but the future is unknowable. She can see that there is a baby, but how can she know of the love she will have for the child, how it will burst from her heart like a bull and of the instinctive desire to protect it with her own life. All this is unknown, and she must trust in the process, trust in the wonder of life.

She leaves this place with a large striped shell, one that she found when she dived to the bottom of the sandy sea, and she is cloaked in the golden dreams of love, her belly swelling with the child she carries and the warm salty water lapping the skin of her outstretched toes.

The journey to this place is likely to have been long and difficult, with many smaller decisions playing their part in the process. It is unlikely that you would have imagined yourself standing where you are now, all those weeks, months or even years ago; it is difficult to mark where it all started, but here you are, nothing you can do now will change the outcome. A new world beckons

The Aeon XX
The Spirit of Primal Fire
Elemental Trump of Fire & Spirit
Planetary association Pluto


Joanna Grant. D.F.Astrol.S

My name is Joanna Grant, I am an Astrologer, Tarot Reader and Writer, who lives on the beautiful Beara Peninsula in the South West of Ireland. I can often be found at home, deep in arcane research, or practicing some new form of divination whilst burning the dinner! My children probably wish that I was “normal” but may well remember my eccentricities fondly when they come to face the challenges of their own paths. My long knowledge of Astrology leads and informs my practice, in offering guidance, empowerment and healing, helping others to lead a more authentic and magical life. You can read more about me here.

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