🪐 Episode 3: I Did Astrology Wrong and Accidentally Became a Planet




This week's episode begins with a simple idea: write some affirmations. Just some innocent, cosmic little mantras to realign my chakras and unclog the energetic hairball that has become my week.

Carl, my monocled cactus (and full-time vibe consultant), suggested I do it "the proper way" — meaning with astrology. “Use your birth chart,” he said, sipping something suspiciously sparkly from a cosmic teacup. “Let the stars write your affirmations for you. Just don’t overmix the fire signs with the fixed houses or Mercury might...well, never mind.”

That “never mind” should have been my first warning.

The Chart Heard ‘Round the Universe

I dusted off my birth chart. It’s mostly water signs, which makes sense — I’ve been known to cry during commercials about orange juice. I lit a candle that claimed to smell like “the fourth house of inner transformation” and sat down to channel my cosmic affirmations.

“I am aligned with the stars.”
“I am guided by the wisdom of the planets.”
“I am... wait, why is the carpet moving?”

I blinked. My coffee mug levitated slightly. The candle flared like it had beef with me. A blinding flash burst from my star chart and — poof! — my third eye got Wi-Fi.

One minute I was writing affirmations. The next, I was one.

I had become a planet.

Like, cosmically speaking. Orbital. Roundish. Suspended in a slightly awkward yet majestic ballet with the rest of the solar system. Somewhere between Mercury and a mild existential crisis.

Mars Ghosted Me

Immediately after my planetary promotion, I tried to make interstellar small talk. “Hey Mars! Fancy meeting you here.”

Nothing.

Total ghosting.

I later found out Mars had read one of my old tweets where I called it “an angry raisin with commitment issues.” Apparently, planets have long memories and decent Wi-Fi.

Honestly, being ghosted by Mars was still less awkward than being followed around by Pluto, who kept muttering, “We were planets once... respected... recognized...” over and over while adjusting his conspiracy cap.

Saturn the Space Dad

And then came Saturn. With his rings, his eternal stoicism, and his unsolicited life advice.

“You know, back in my day,” he began — yes, he said that — “we didn’t have retrogrades. We had responsibilities. Deadlines. Cosmic order.”

I nodded. Or orbited politely.

Saturn, it turns out, is the planetary embodiment of Dad Energy™. He believes in boundaries, maturity, and asking you if you’ve checked your retirement plan.

“I’m literally a planet now,” I told him. “What retirement?”

“Exactly,” he said gravely.

Earth Says “Don’t @ Me”

Feeling overwhelmed, I decided to reconnect with Earth. You know, my home planet. Where my socks live. Where Carl lives. Where my birth chart originally belonged before it got sucked into a metaphysical spiral of self-actualization and mild cosmic error.

“Earth,” I whispered into the ether. “Are you there? It’s me. Your former occupant.”

Earth didn’t even blink.

Instead, a voice echoed across the interplanetary group chat: “Don’t @ me.”

Turns out Earth was having a rough week. Something about climate change, tech billionaires launching rockets into her exosphere, and too many retrograde TikTok accounts. She said she was “on Do Not Disturb until further notice” and blocked Mercury for being “the drama.”

Relatable.

Planetary Perks & Existential Dizziness

At first, being a planet sounded amazing. You’re part of an exclusive celestial club. You orbit. You shine. You look cool in star maps. But here’s the thing they don’t tell you: being a planet is really dizzying.

There’s all this spinning, and no one gives you a snack break. You have to constantly maintain your gravitational boundaries while listening to Uranus make fart jokes in the background.

And don’t even get me started on Venus. She kept asking if I was “emotionally exfoliating my aura” or just “projecting solar flares.” I didn’t know how to answer, so I just panicked and flung a moon into the asteroid belt.

Oops.

Carl Saves My Orbit

Just as I was about to implode from the pressure (and bad space puns), Carl reappeared — riding a tiny comet like it was no big deal.

“Look,” he said, brushing stardust off his monocle, “you got lost in the chart. It happens. Never write affirmations while your chart’s in Pisces, your aura’s leaking, and you’ve had too much moon tea. Classic mistake.”

He reached into a tiny black hole (where he apparently stores snacks?) and pulled out my original birth chart — folded, faded, and thankfully uncosmified.

“Time to go home,” he said. “You don’t need to become a planet to align with the universe. You’re already orbiting your own path. Sometimes clumsily, but it’s yours.”

I floated gently out of planetary form and landed back on my bedroom floor, clutching my mug. The coffee was cold. The candle had burned itself out. But my aura? It was humming again.

Maybe slightly frayed around the edges, but functional.

What I Learned From Accidentally Becoming a Planet

1. Astrology is powerful. Especially when Carl gets involved.


2. Mars holds grudges. Keep your tweets respectful.


3. You don’t have to be cosmic to be aligned. You’re already made of stardust, after all.


4. Boundaries are important. Especially gravitational ones. Saturn was right about that.


5. Never write affirmations while emotionally unstable and astrologically curious. You might end up with moons.



Vocabulary Corner

Birth Chart: A snapshot of where the planets were at the exact moment you were born, used to understand personality, fate, and probable snack preferences.

Retrograde: When a planet appears to move backward in the sky and everyone blames it for their bad mood.

Planetary Dad Energy™: When a celestial body lectures you on taxes, bedtime, and moral development.

Aura Leak: The metaphysical version of a slow tire leak. You feel sluggish, weird, or existentially itchy.



---

Quote of the Week

"You don’t need to be a planet to have gravity. Your energy already pulls the right things in. Just keep spinning." — Carl, monocled cactus of the cosmos


---

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

That Time I Meditated Myself into a Cult Run by My Houseplants

Image
  They say inner peace is a journey. Mine started on a yoga mat made from old tax documents and ended with a Venus flytrap initiating me into a houseplant cult that communicates in Morse code. But let’s back up. It began—like most great spiritual misadventures do—with Carl. Carl, in case you missed Episode 1, is my cactus. Or more accurately, he was my cactus. Now he identifies as The Thorn Oracle, a self-proclaimed spiritual provocateur, emotional saboteur, and part-time enlightenment broker. That morning, I had dared to express mild irritation after stubbing my toe on the coffee table. Carl responded with the kind of pitying disdain usually reserved for people who clap when the plane lands. “You are toxic ,” he said, “and not in a sexy Britney Spears way. In a spiritually constipated way.” I was still hopping on one foot. “Carl,” I hissed, “I am bleeding.” “Exactly,” he said, with a photosynthetic flick of superiority. “Your ego is hemorrhaging. You need cleansing. Ritual. Relea...
Read more

The Day I Was Hypnotized by a Cactus

Image
 I was not expecting to be hypnotized by a cactus on a Tuesday. But as they say in therapy: expect the unexpected, especially when your houseplant starts quoting Nietzsche. It began innocently enough. I was sipping lukewarm oat milk from a mug shaped like an anxious dolphin when I noticed my cactus—formerly known as Carl, now self-identifying as "The Thorn Oracle"—was glowing. I blinked. It blinked back. Or rather, it twitched one of its tiny spines with the sort of menace typically reserved for middle managers or cats who have discovered their reflection. Then it spoke. “You are late,” it said. Its voice was deep, yet slightly wheezy, like James Earl Jones if he were allergic to himself. “I wasn’t aware I had an appointment,” I replied, which seemed logical until I realized I was arguing with a cactus, which by all definitions was not ideal. “You were scheduled for a psychological reset,” the cactus said. “Your inner chaos is leaking into the astral grid. Also, you lef...
Read more

🍄 Episode 6: Mushrooms Gave Me Relationship Advice and Now I Can’t Eat Risotto Without Crying

Image
  (Carl cooks something that tastes like truth, and now I'm emotionally al dente.) It started when Carl announced we’d been “emotionally malnourished since the last equinox.” I was halfway through an expired protein bar and not in the mood for his metaphysical grocery lists. “What’s that mean?” “It means,” he said, pulling a burlap sack from his canvas tote with dramatic flair, “we need to commune with mushrooms.” I blinked. The mushrooms blinked back. One of them looked like it had been divorced twice and carried the wisdom of failure in its cap. “We’re making risotto,” Carl said solemnly. “But the kind that stirs you back.” 🍚 Cooking With Existential Fungi Carl began prepping the risotto like it was a sacred rite. He dimmed the lights, lit three candles shaped like Carl Jung’s head, and played ambient whale calls remixed with affirmations in reverse. I swear I heard one say, “You are the unresolved climax of your parents’ dream journals.” Meanwhile, the mushrooms loung...
Read more