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Pisces: Chronophobia

A reflection and ritual for the Pisces moon::to hold our emotions and contradictions

By Joe NastaPublished 2 years ago 5 min read


I hope you're all having a wonderful week.

ALERT ALERT the moon has entered the sign of Pisces. I'm going to be honest, Pisces is not my vibe. I struggle when this kind of energy enters the conversation. When I was a child I cried all the time until my parents, convinced there was something wrong with me, chastised me to the point that I felt ashamed of my emotions. I'm only just now learning how to feel through the deep undercurrents inside my mind and body. When I started having panic attacks again in 2018 the only way I could calm myself was to sit under the stream of the shower until my heart stopped racing. I knew I needed to make serious changes. This Pisces moon reminds me of the changes I've made, and the ritual I perform today connects me to my emotions in a powerful, manageable way.

With this Pisces moon, it is time to take a bath, drink red wine, read Clarice Lispector, and write honestly about our feelings.

I took a bath, drank red wine, read Agua Viva because I am dramatic,

but you knew that already. I’m not mad. I told you the truth:

I have never lied to you. I am honest. I am honest, I am honest.

I never wanted to write a poem to you.

I only write poems to men that will never be mine.

I want you to swoon when you read my words.

I want men I only sort of know to swoon.

I want to only sort of know them.

I said you didn’t see me.

I am afraid I haven’t shown you anything.

I wish I wasn’t writing this poem.

You told me on the balcony that you think in pictures.

We were naked with the New York skyline.

I told you no, I don’t think in words, but my mind

is filled with them always because I am always trying to write.

Every moment. I told you my thoughts were indescribable urges

that even I can’t translate. You cried when I told you not to touch me.

Every moment. I am terrified of losing time. The idea that anything

great comes effortlessly is false. The idea that anything great

that was lost will return is hopeful thinking. Hopeful thinking

is false. Thinking a thing enough times makes it true. I am honest,

I am honest. I am honest. I am terrified that if I don’t write everything

in my head as it happens, then my life will mean nothing.

Last night even, as I lay in your bed and you tried not to cry.

I know I am ruthless. I can’t remember anything before

a month ago. I can’t remember anything before three years ago.

I can’t remember yesterday. I am terrified of losing time.

At dinner you asked me about asexuality, and told me pouring more wine

was not a poem. I know you don’t mean to offend, but even sitting

down to dinner with you is a poem. The first glass of wine is

a poem. The second. Every time I kissed you was a poem. Your head

on the pillow with your eyes closed was. This is a poem. I’m not writing

this in my head, but on paper. I’m not writing this to apologize.

I am writing this because I am terrible at ending things.

I am writing this because I am terrified of losing my thoughts in the bath.

I wrote this incantation during the We Sweat Honeysuckle workshop for queer writers from Winter Tangerine. I started the workshop in New York the day my Pisces lover arrived and finished the workshop in Seattle before breaking it off with said Pisces lover. I've always had a hard time connecting to my emotions and communicating them, but this poem attempts to hold and accept difficult contradictions.

I loved my Pisces man even as we struggled to communicate. I have two memories of feeling safe enough to rest my head in his lap and cry.

Once, in Cal Anderson Park after I tried to explain that I wanted to be with him, but not in the traditional ways of being together. We left our awkward silence behind us at Oddfellows Cafe and sat on top of the hill on the North end of the park. There was a tree whose slender trunk the Pisces laid back against: so slender the tree could not be older than a year or two. I buried my face in his lap while he pet my hair. I cried the hardest I had since childhood.

Again, on the way home from New York our flight was delayed due to thunderstorms. I have extremely severe travel anxiety under the best of circumstances, so this was a nightmare. We sat alone near the gate, facing the motionless planes that were not cleared for take-off. The Pisces read aloud to me while I again laid my head in his lap. My tears welled up in my eyes but only a few fell.

This Pisces moon, I remember the love I don't feel anymore. I remember the sadness and grief it brings to lose others, to lose myself. I remember that I am still here.

Fill a bath. If you don't have a bath, run the shower.

Find a photograph, a magazine page, a page of text that you find beautiful.

Read this poem by Clarice Lispector out loud even if you don't know how to speak Spanish. Feel the words in your mouth.

Rip the beautiful page you selected into shards, dropping each of them into the water/under the stream.

Remember to breathe. Close your eyes and step into the water/under the stream.

Sit down, wrapping your arms around your knees to hug your legs into your chest. Remember the face of someone you no longer love. Keep your eyes closed.

Remember you are still here. It's natural to change over time. Remember that the water will always heal you.

Say, "Red, Green, Blue. Red, Green, Blue. I am saying love. I am saying love. Love. Love."

Submerge your head and face in water for a few moments. Resurface, open your eyes, and breathe. Now is the time to cry if you are able to, but if you are not able to that is also okay.

Love. Love. Love.

I hope y'all have an amazing day. Please stay safe. Be sure to drink enough water.



self help

About the Creator

Joe Nasta

Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P

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