Uranus won, it seems. The wild card was played. The presumed rules-of-convention have been disrupted. All bets are off.
'What's going to happen' is anyone's guess, as we are seeing from one day's latest twist to the next. Expectations are uncertain, feelings volatile. Anything could happen.
Some people are very upset by this surprising turn of events, disappointed and angry and scared. Others are upset by the very fact these people are so upset; they set themselves up for this, got what they deserved, ought to suck it up and move on with acceptance, right? Of course, nobody has to 'accept' anything. They can react with refusal, rebellion, a rampage turning the tables, pulling another rabbit out of a different hat, again disrupting expectations. One group's upset gets vented, bringing them relief, reviving their sense of personal agency. But now it's the other group who's really upset, thrown off by their rivals' act of resistance. Then what?
You may think I'm talking about the US presidential election and its destabilizing aftermath, and, to a certain extent, I am. But let's not limit our understanding to this narrow context, for unanticipated and unprecedented change is obviously all over the airwaves. The astrology tells us there would have been 'surprises' no matter who emerged as the president-elect. And the 'surprises' keep coming, with Jupiter just beginning to stoke Uranus's unpredictability by opposition and continuing to do so through much of '17.
Uranus's job is to startle us out of our apathetic business-as-usual posture. It shocks our consciousness into heightened attention revealing what we've taken for granted, rattling us off our foundation, magnifying the cracks, creating a certain chaos. Once Uranus strikes, things will never be the same. Naturally, we are hit with emotions agitated by this shock, for we are human and can't help but feel something in immediate response to startling episodes.
But archetypal shit-stirrer that it is, Uranus does not care about our feelings. It simply seeks to release pent-up pressures, to free us where we're stuck, forcing us to make different choices than we'd made before. Once the dust settles and the initial feelings recede, we see a radically altered playing-ground in front of us. No longer able to mindlessly fall back on automatic behavioral patterns, we must decide all over again what to do, as if for the first time. Because in a certain way, it is the first time. Life has never been like this before.
The discontinuity which Uranian shocks and surprises deliver clears a space in our field of possible experiences. Though we may understandably grieve what's no longer there, we simultaneously have an opportunity to create something new to fill that space. In fact, it's our vital charge to do just that. If we aren't able to eventually shake off our distress and eagerly claim this creative mission, all we have left to focus on or obsess over is what was destroyed a backwards-facing preoccupation only too likely to entrench in us a dull despair. We might not have chosen this opportunity (and maybe never would've wanted to, let's admit), but here it is anyway. Now what shall we do with it?
The process of starting an original project or venture, initiating unfamiliar behaviors, and/or birthing something which has never before existed necessarily involves a period of disarray, confusion, and jitters. To get from our usual 'here' to an as-yet-unformed 'there' is a journey that takes us through the wilderness of 'I don't know what the fuck I'm doing'. How could we know how to do what we've never done before? It's our kneejerk aversion to muddling through this disorderly in-between phase of chaos that often stops us from making essential or desired changes. Too much is at risk, we tell ourselves, to rock this boat. So, instead, we hang on tighter to what we've already known. All the while, pressure builds up.
When we're knocked into chaos or confusion by circumstances not of our choosing, it's actually an ideal occasion for us to willingly assume further risk, to undertake those wild leaps we've long yearned for, to boldly effect even more radical change. When one part is broken, we might as well take this chance to fix the other parts (which are showing their obvious signs of wear-and-tear), too. Everything's already a mess, after all. We can take advantage of our construction-zone status and strive to make our lives even better than they were before the Uranus havoc or at least distinct enough from that former version so we can enjoy novel experience, fresh insight, something sufficiently reinvigorating so we can see the world through unwearied eyes again.
If you've been knocked out of your seat by one of Uranus's victory-lap jolts, by all means, tend to your wounds. Then dust yourself up, and get back on your feet. This is your opportunity to further shuffle up your life-circumstances, in an effort to craft them more to your liking.
Would it be so crazy to just pick up and move? to finally own up to your dissatisfaction with a relationship or living-situation, and decide to leave it behind? to start actively doing the work you know you're here to do, rather than biding your time (as if it's an infinite resource) with unfulfilling or heartless labor? to utterly reinvent yourself, top to bottom? Hard to imagine it would be any crazier than what we're already witnessing, and will continue to. Why the fuck not?
Life as we've known it has passed on. But once something's already been irretrievably lost, we have that much less to lose which is all the more reason to go for the gamble.