Confession of a person with a difficult Pluto aspect with Mars
Darkness. Fog. Humidity. The poor streetlights uncover the slow and silent air movements before they get dissipated in the dark blue, almost black, shadows of the night.
One soul is standing and contemplating the surroundings, almost ready to cry about the hopeless imagery of the night, which in any other circumstances would have shown to be nothing more than - the end of a rainy day.
Fear. Uncertainty. Cold.
The soul recognizes itself in a kind of mirror reflection in the long hours of the night contemplation, it is seeing in the outside world some half-objects shaped in its own mind, it is hearing the steps of nothingness around its tiny existence. The existence reduced from an average human body to the dimensions of a rope.
And the soul is standing as still as the hard rope would be hanging from above, high above. Occasionally, it trembles for an instant, but the breath is short and doesn't give much space to any free reaction. The eyes seem to be the only free channels to the world, but the mind doesn't believe in transience of time, if it's the time anyway which breaks the traumatic mirrors, and if it is the daylight which gives a kind of final end to the street light, so guilty for those reflections, and so blamable for the frightening contrasts.
The eyes are so active. They are not doing their usual job - forming a picture of the outside world, and getting it connected through the wires to the brain. No. The mind is faster, and wishfully rushing the process, by imposing an image: "This, over there could be some light, some warm light"; "And this over here is a flower, do you see a flower, do you see a flower?" The eyes are sharpening, the eyelids are quickly turning into "yes", and the deception of a "no" follows, the brain is rush-fully sending a faster impulse to the eyes, but the clear judgement doesn't lose the battle, the eyes can't see anything warm and close, the rope shaped body is losing its strength ready to fall in the frightening cold night, and the soul chooses to close its eyes, whispering: "close them, it will go away, it will go away... a little more time, just a little more time". The cry becomes stronger, the shakes more centered into a chest area. The new day is approaching, and the sky gets brighter.
Ispovest osobe sa teskim aspektom Pluton Mars
Tama. Magla.
Vlaga. Prigusena ulicna svetla otkrivaju spore i tihe pokrete vazduha, pre nego
sto se oni rastope u tamno-plavim, skoro crnim senkama noci.
Jedna Dusa stoji
i posmatra okolinu, skoro spremna da zaplace zbog beznadezne predstave noci,
sto bi se u bilo kojoj drugoj prilici dalo pokazati da nije je nista drugo do – kraj
jednog kisnog dana.
Strah.
Nesigurnost. Hladnoca.
Dusa prepoznaje
sebe u nekoj vrsti refleksije ogledala - u dugim satima nocnog posmatranja,
vidi u spoljasnjosti neke polu objekte oblikovanje u njenom vlastitom umu, cuje
korake nistavila oko svog tananog postojanja. Postojanja svedenog sa prosecnog
ljudskog tela, na dimenzije jednog konopca.
I Dusa stoji tako stameno, kao sto bi debeo konopac visio
odozgo, visoko odozgo.
Ponekad ona zadrhti na kratko, ali dah je kratak, i ne daje
puno prostora nikakvim slobodnim reakcijama. Oci su izgleda jedini slobodan
kanal u svet, ali um ne veruje u prolazak vremena, ako je uopste vreme to koje
razbija traumaticna ogledala, i ako je svetlost dana ta koja zadaje konacan
kraj ulicnom svetlu, do te mere krivom za ove refleksije, i odgovornom zbog
zastrasujucih kontrasta.
Oci su tako
aktivne. One ne rade svoj klasican posao – formiranje slike iz
spoljasnjeg sveta, i njeno povezivanje kroz zice do mozga. Ne. Um je brzi, i
zeljeno ubrzava proces, namecuci sliku: “Ovo, ovde, mogla bi biti neka
svetlost, neka topla svetlost”, “A ovo, ovde je cvet, vidis li cvet, vidis li
cvet?” Oci izostravaju sliku, ocni kapci se brzo uvrcu u “da”, a razocaranje
jednog “ne” usledjuje, mozak ubrzano salje jos jaci impuls ocima, ali zdrav
razum ne gubi bitku, oci nisu u stanju da vide nista toplo i blisko. Telo u
obliku konopca gubi snagu, spremno da padne u zastrasujucu hladnu noc, i Dusa
bira da zatvori oci sapucuci: “zatvori ih, proci se, procice… jos kratko, samo
jos kratko.” Jecaj postaje jaci, a drhtanje ucentrirano u plucno-grudni deo.
Nov dan se blizi, I nebo postaje vedro.
