Conversations With Jupiter

Hi Jupiter, it’s Whitney Howard (Human ID #5,434,555,030).

Back for another chat.

As you know, I was with Haley when we had our first conversation in 2022. September 26, 2022 to be exact. Haley and I drove out to the beach at Tybee because you were the closest you’d been to Earth since 1963. It was a balmy Savannah September night, summer weather. Shorts, t-shirts, bare feet. We timed it so that we could watch you ascend the eastern horizon. You were so bright that night that I was able to capture a picture of you in the darkness, illuminating the ocean. Down here on Earth, humans regard you as the planet of good fortune. You probably know that. Haley and I took turns talking to you that night. Mostly we asked you for good fortune. You were there, you remember.

Since that night, I have made it a point to know your schedule. This time of year, you are already high in the sky when darkness falls. The constancy of your brilliance is unmistakable. Sometimes I ask you for help, other times for protection. Often, saying hello to you is enough. Thanks for being there, Jupiter. Really. I appreciate you.

For tonight, can we reflect on 2023? Of course (inserts party emoji).

I began 2023 focused on success. That was my word of the year: Success! I had a fixed idea of what success would mean. Twelve months later, in retrospect, the themes of this year turned out to be reconnection, reconciliation, reveling in a slowness that I’d never known, love, walking courageously through health challenges and finding peace in the bottomless canyon of in-between. I did it: I reconciled, I reconnected, I slowed down, I loved. I was a warrior from February through June when physically, I felt the worst. On the hardest of days, I tried to remain tethered to peace and protection. Upon reflection, there were miles between my advance expectations and the reality of this year. My success this year was in my human beingness.

In the mindful slowness of 2023, I found gratitude in unexpected places. If I share them with you, will you please pass along my thanks to the rest of the cosmos? Thank you. Thanks, Jupiter.

I am thankful for the herbed butter at Big Bon Bodega and the days when the Strangebird food truck sold nachos, the ones with the pulled pork. And Jeni’s dairy-free Caramel Pecan Sticky Bun ice cream. Thanks for the days when I won Wordle in two guesses. And the text thread with Amie and Jen that started this year: we talk about The Golden Bachelor and perimenopause and grief and face cream made of snail goo. That text thread should be published one day. Maybe not. Definitely not. But thanks for friends that make me laugh.

Thanks for the astrologer working the Wendy’s drive-through when I was having a hard day. She was wearing chunky gold hoop earrings with Cancer spelled out in the middle. We talked astrology in the drive through. She was a Cancer Sun, Aries Moon. She was pregnant for the first time.

Thanks for the UFO sighting in Manhattan Beach in January. That was a UFO, right Jupiter? I knew it! I feel like I would be a good mediator with extraterrestrial visitors to this planet. Put that in your back pocket if you need it. Thanks for the sky-spanning double rainbow outside my Starland front door in June and the pin-drop silence of the Disney Concert Hall between movements of the LA Phil in March.

Thanks for Kim, the best neighbor I’ve ever had. Thanks for Alana’s Pallas Athena tattoo. Glad to know the goddesses are getting the respect they deserve. Thanks for Jen’s Star tarot pin on her backpack. And thanks for bumper stickers. Sometimes I take pictures of them while I’m driving, like the one that said If anything can go well, it will.

Thanks for books. Man, I love books. I’ve read so many books this year and it made me so happy. Thanks for Audible, even though it’s owned by Amazon.

Thanks for the memory of spinning in the grass this past July in a long white dress. I was with Jimmy and Carter and Blake. I spun until I got so dizzy that I fell over. Everyone laughed. It was hilarious. Thank you for dancing and the courage to stand in front of the camera for Leeann to take my pictures back in May. Thank you for the inner push to claim myself just as I am.

Thank you for the hike during a California superbloom, hiking paths carved through fields of stalks taller than me. The explosion of gold in nature. Flowers. Thank you for every flower this year. And the grasshopper that kept showing up to remind me to take a leap of faith. The cardinal on my neighbor’s mailbox that I’d never noticed before this year. Swimming in the ocean. Playing the tambourine. My nephew turning into a high school senior overnight. Airplanes climbing in a cloudless sky. Laughing with children. The times when Nielsen sent me a dollar bill in the mail to take a survey. I never took the survey, but I still have the dollar bills.

Ritual anchoring the corners of my life. The days, even the hours, of feeling completely in the flow. Being content with knowing nothing but appreciating everything.

Also, thanks to the South Node for leaving Scorpio, finally. Cheers.

In 2024, I intend to be more incorrigible in the most glorious of ways. I am going to think less and soften into greater strength. I am going to write more and find new ways to spread my wings. Maybe 2024 is the year I finally become the world-class surfer that I believe I am in my heart. Who knows, Jupiter? Who really knows? 

Thanks for everything. Thanks for being there, reminding me that I am not alone. Reminding me that I am protected. Reminding me that all is well. Reminding me that love is all that matters. Today, I am alive.