Some time after I became a witch, Lily and I were Havishamming around the museum when she came across one of my witchy reads. Deeply unimpressed with its new-aged swing, she summoned a book to my doorstep, probably delivered by crows from Narnia. She descends from a line of old school witches, I don’t ask questions. Read the section describing the Aquarius Woman, my fellow Aquarian directed, waltzing through the Parlour, picking up trinkets to examine their experiential value. She glanced over her shoulder. It haunts me.

Sun Signs arrived and I did as I was told, fully expecting to be haunted by any word now, but with each passing paragraph, I was completely taken, fully mesmerized, totally enchanted by the Aquarian woman. 

Holy shit, it’s BEAUTIFUL! I click-clacked back to Lily. H A U N T I N G. She corrected. I counter offered. Beautifully haunting?

Much like my Enneagram Seven avatar, I deeply identify with my Aquarian sun. Always have. I find us to be beautifully strange and mysterious creatures. Biased, sure whatever, but what’s not to love? For those of you unfamiliar, according to Linda Goodman’s Sun Signs ^{(OVER 2 MILLION COPIES SOLD)} we’re:

• Outdoor Cats! The Aquarian girl’s demand for freedom is insistent, but her allegiance to anyone who can accept romance within such limits is boundless.
• Weirdos! Aquarians often deliberately adopt weird attire to show their refusal to conform. Your Aquarian girl will probably have an unusual way of wearing her hair. 
• Dependable Villagers! The typical question asked after a broken romance is “can’t we still be friends?”
• Decent Phone-a-Friends! This sun sign is known as the sign of genius. Aquarians don’t have the best memories in the world, but then they don’t really need to memorize much, since they seem to pick up knowledge out of thin air with some kind of antennae.
• The Girl Next Door, Any Neighborhood! She’s graceful, witty, bright as a penny, and extremely adaptable to all forms of society, high and low and the middle.
• Overall Dope! The Aquarian outlook is so broad you’ll seldom find one who is prejudiced. You can expect her to give her opinion freely, but she won’t try to dictate how you should think or how you should life your life. The Aquarian philosophy is everyone has their thing. Each person dances to his own fiddle music, and individuality should be respected.
• Witches! Continuous experimentation simply leaves her curious to penetrate the next mystery, and the next mystery could be you.

Maybe she’s haunted by our natural aloofness, making it difficult for us to demonstrate outward affection, feeling particularly seen by those considered “off”. Aquarians are a curious mixture of cold practicality and eccentric stability, and they seem to have an instinctive empathy with the mentally disturbed. Our perhaps by our pinball confessionals. Other minds may progress in fairly logical steps, but hers zigs into tomorrow then zags back into today with no more sense of direction than a flash of lightening. Our remote access? A peculiar sort of isolation hangs over the Aquarian, and they’re often misunderstood by mankind.

Or perhaps she’s haunted by our lone wolf fortune. Since she’s such an individualist, with a list of friends several miles long, the Aquarian female never hesitates to make her way alone if the need arises. And our innate defiance of accepting one human companion. She may have an unconscious fear that desire for one person will imprison the spirit in some way and keep her from being true to her one great love – freedom.

But the good news is, life is actually quite long and no one embodies every part of themselves all of the time. And if we don’t like a particular piece of us, it’s not like we’re simply stuck that way cuz we’re a Seven born in February. I’m not a fan of using the cosmos as an excuse. We get to change. Or at least we get to try.

Four years ago I slithered into my 40s with the energy of a snake shedding its skin. A cicada stepping out of its exoskeleton. A caterpillar molting on milkweed. Who was I? Who did I want to be? I rolled up my sleeves, eager to find out, so much work to do! I crawled out from under the bed, turned the page on childhood chapters, wrapped up college mini-series. I stepped into a closet crammed full of characters I’ve played, bid adieu to several of my past selves, tipping my hat in gratitude as we parted ways. I couldn’t be who I am without first becoming who I was. And just before embarking on my 45th trip around the sun, I fluttered around the museum making space for a whole entire person (+ dog). It’s wild how much you can finally let go of when you’re holding onto so much more. 

Boxes of old photographs from the pre-digital days when you’d take 100 pictures of the same party with slightly different angles that all turned out just okay but you kept every single one. Cards received, notes passed, those awkward class headshots exchanged + the feeling when you got one from your crush, trinkets found and gifted, letters from old loves. A bunch of shit I’ve carried with me all this time, only to be called upon when I’m in purging mode. Turns out, there’s only so many times your 7^th grade self can charm you. Dotted with a tinge of nostalgia from the land before Things That Could Be became What Was, my latest metamorphosis reached its final spin cycle. Out I came, fresh with welcomed signs of wear, ready for a new coat. And boy do I love a funky new coat.

The art of letting go is heavily influenced by the gift of experience. I found myself able to let go of precarious friendships only after navigating 25 years of romantic relationships no longer serving me. A steep learning curve boiled down quite simply, no matter what the individual circumstances: we were no longer enjoying each other as the people we were choosing to be. And that’s okay. Things run their course. Most items have an expiration date, a tapering off. My album is filled with unique snapshots of characters applicable to specific chapters of this Choose Your Own Adventure. Every life notch, each milestone, all those twists + turns in our personal adaptations of what it means to be a l i v e provides an opportunity to diverge.

Some people grow together, some people grow apart, some people grow in all sorts of unexpected directions no one saw coming. Some people are simply no longer interested in each other’s growth path. Some people define growth only in the direction of their needs. Some people stop growing period. As we dance through life’s myriad of obstacles and adventures, it’s next to impossible to grow in the exact same way at the exact same pace as anyone else. If you’ve ever walked a bunch of different dogs on leashes, you know what I mean. Maybe one dog wants to sniff this and another wants to pee on that and the third sees a squirrel. It can be chaotic. Then you unclip their leashes, setting them free to chase their own desires and your heart soars watching them scatter.

You know I’m a sucker for materializing profound life lessons from my plants and animals. Or maybe I just like to observe other forms of life to prove we’re all made of the same balls of energy organized into different shapes. And if you look to the plants, growth is an enigma.

My house absolutely exploded with plant life once I discovered they were actually pretty good at communicating their individual needs if I listened. So we got to know each other. They taught me too much + not enough are wildly different depending on which plant was squawking. Best not to do too many evening examinations because dang, they ALL look kinda sad. But in the morning light, it’s just so obvious you caught them sleeping their way into another day.

It’s been quite the dance. Some plants lasted forever (or at least until today), some plants did not. I brought some plants back from the dead. And some plants I watched wither away, no matter what I did; more water, less water, more sun, less sun. They never flourished under my care. It took me some time to conclude all of the other plants shouldn’t suffer from one plant monopolizing my attention. It took me even longer to stop making the same mistake. They look so pretty at the plant store, full of promise and possibility! Maybe I just got a bad egg…

But hey, even though you have to let some go, it doesn’t mean they weren’t beautiful while alive. Everything dies, that’s just life. Once on an outdoor deck in Mexico City, Alex and I were trying to determine if the magnificent plant canopy above us was real. Not a brown bit in sight, except for in the potted plants. Look for the death, that’s how you can tell it’s real.

I’ll probably never understand why people value duration over quality. It’s not about history, it’s about energy. When friendships fade, when relationships fizzle, when besties bend in opposite directions, it’s not required of either party to keep choking down the same burnt toast and call it dinner. And it’s rarely one person’s “fault,” more the dynamic of the duo. Some people are perfectly capable of keeping tropical plants alive in their indoor Wisconsin homes (why else would Home Depot sell so many, hmm?) I am not one of them. My environment will not meet their needs, probably ever. Too much work for worth. Together, we will never flourish. Plus, I’ve surrounded myself with so many beautiful plants I can keep alive, and deep down I’m a logician. I strive for quality by way of efficiency. Maximize my short time in the here + now.

These days I find myself in awe of all the delicious good, with so much appreciation for and from my community, many of whom I’ve met in Decade #5. I know, in the Age of Loneliness, new adulthood friends! And an inordinate number of these people came with a side of you’re going to be in my life for a very long time and we both know it vibes. If me and Jerry, the guy who towed my truck to the shop last weekend, got detained flying from Ibiza back to Glasgow (I’m looking at you, Scottish David) we’d know more than enough personal details about each other to be un-detained.

Anyway, all that to say, if I sound like a broken record recently, whoops. But have you seen what it’s like out there? Isn’t appreciative joy a lovely groove to get stuck on? Your eyeballs could be grazing on worse shit. I’m fully aware my current docuseries is set to T Swift’s entire Lover album, but also that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a great album.

It’s taken me 44 years to surround myself with people who are interested in similar growth paths, with kindred vibes and intentions. Symbiotic relationships sans drama. Trees in a forest allowed to stand individually with underlying confidence in the collective support rooted in genuineness and strength that can’t be imitated. Choosing positive narratives, finding the good, using kind words > harsh tongues, asking questions to understand, no desire to place blame or point fingers, what’s the point? Grace to make mistakes, girl we’ve all been there. Sweet and savory two-way communication. Everyone deserves to shine. And we’ll polish each other’s shoes until we do.

Last week I was looking for a tiny delicate horse ear lost in the Great Floor War of 2025 when I caught a terrible whiff of decay. It was coming from a propagated plant on the factory table I call a TV stand. I examined the decomposition as I walked it to the kitchen. I’d noticed the growth before, reasoned that’s what happens to plants submerged in water, fuzzy root rot. I sprayed the rancid black clump, watched the soggy bits break off in the sink. I gently combed the strands, removing a layer of mush to reveal fresh little green and white wisps. Put me in coach. 

I’ve transferred potted plants from the jaws of death to water where they’ve flourished for months before putting in their two week notice to go back to the beach, and vice versa. I’ve cut off the dead bits to make room for growth. I’ve learned needs change and change is constant and adaptation is growth. And that even roots can pick up their dress skirts and dip their toes into another flower pot. Who knows, they might even thrive.

May everyone run through the trees to find their forest. 

P.S. In case you’re wondering, the quickest way to lose your Aquarian girl is to show jealousy, possessiveness or prejudice, to be critical, stuffy or ultra-conservative. You’ll also have to like her friends, who will come in odd assorted sizes and shapes. Preach.

P.P.S. My favorite Sun Signs line: Astrology teaches us that as the Aquarian thinks, so will the world in 50 years. Linda Goodman’s words, not mine. Take it up with the world’s most respected astrological authority (says so right on the back cover). 

P.P.P.S.S.sssssssssss…She’s susceptible to sudden flashes of inspiration, and her intuition is remarkable. Her judgment may not seem sound or practical at first, because she sees months and years ahead. The Aquarian girl lives in tomorrow, and you can only visit there through her. What she says will come true, perhaps after many delays and troubles, but it will come true. I suppose, after all, that’s the most special thing about your February woman. She’s a little bit magic.

Okay. I can see how that might be haunting to non-Aquarians.