The New Show in Town

Everybody loves a sequel.

Back in April, I wrote about “The Bro Show,” a euphemism for my favorite unintentional pastime: spying on the neighbor.

I never meant to watch him, but it couldn’t be helped. Hanging curtains was not on his agenda. Any time I looked up, there he was, doing something impossible to ignore, like practicing his golf swing or cavorting around the apartment while wearing a massive VR headset.

He had a habit of eating takeout burritos and a propensity for dating women who looked virtually identical, save for their differences in height. I still don’t know his name, but I’d recognize his mannerisms from a mile away.

Over the months, The Bro Show became a part of my daily routine, a way to subtly track the passage of time, like glimpsing autumn foliage. Then one day, I looked up from my computer and saw him standing in an empty space, rolls of packing tape stacked up his wrist like some sort of hardware store Iris Apfel.

I gasped.

“The Bro is leaving!” I yelled to my partner, with more concern than one should probably summon for a person they’ve never once spoken to.

“He’s probably moving in with the girlfriend,” he shrugged.

I shook my head. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend. It just seems like he does because they all look the same.”

An hour later, the apartment was bathed in darkness. The Bro Show was off the air.

Astrology has never been my thing.

Maybe it’s because I was born squarely on a cusp and reading two horoscopes — three if you include the rising sign — seemed like too much effort. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll gamely sport a zodiac themed accessory. I’ll even gobble up the work of Alice Sparkly Kat and Chani Nicholas and Rob Brezsny. But I’ve never paid much mind when someone foretells a shift based on the position of the cosmos.

And yet.

The last couple weeks have been a doozy. Broken appliances, lost packages, spotty internet, computers that refuse to cooperate. Earlier this week, I found myself standing in a parking garage behind a dozen other people who were also being held hostage by a broken meter that wouldn’t let us pay (and subsequently exit).

“Insert ticket. Insert ticket. Insert ticket,” it repeated in its robotic monotone, while refusing to accept said tickets. It felt like something out of either Seinfeld or Dante’s Inferno, depending on one’s mood.

My partner sighed as a dude unleashed a torrent of curses at the machine.

“What’s that thing everyone keeps talking about? Is Mercury retroactive?”

“Retrograde,” I supplied.

Indeed it was.

Mercury in retrograde is something I try to ignore as much as humanly possible — a tall order when every social account and media outlet likes to make a thing about its arrival.

The Cliff’s Notes version is thus: Three or four times a year, Mercury appears to reverse course, moving backwards through the sky. This is merely an illusion — planets always orbit in one direction — but whenever it happens, everyone freaks out.

Astrologically speaking, Mercury rules travel, communication, and technology — the areas that get screwed up when Mercury makes like Criss Angel and performs its little mirage.

“Expect confusion, frustration, and glitches galore!” says everyone. Some would caution you not to sign paperwork and to double check emails and texts before you send them. Allow extra time for travel and remain flexible in the face of any delays, detours, and misunderstandings.

In other words, temper your expectations, but rest assured that you have a handy scapegoat should chaos actually ensue.

Mercury, a surprisingly cute little f*cker.

The Bro’s window remained dark for weeks. Then late one night, I looked outside and found it suddenly aglow.

A woman stood in the still-empty space, surveying every inch. I could sense her mentally planning where the furniture would land, where the art would hang, where the virtually un-killable house plant would have the best chance of survival.

She crossed her arms, twisted her face into a pensive look, gave a decisive nod. It was the energy of a person on the cusp of reinvention. I knew it well. It was like watching a version of my former self.

The next morning, I awoke in a mood I can only describe as “angry hyena.” It seemed to have come out of nowhere, with no discernible cause. I began to tidy, attempting to subvert my feelings by exerting control over my little corner of the world.

Across the way, movers were angling a sofa through the narrow doorway.

“Ah,” I said aloud. So that was it.

Mercury retrograde doesn’t stop at technical snafus. As it appears to slide backward, so do we. Texts from the ex. Dreams about the past. Contact from people we haven’t heard from in months, or sometimes years. Missing the old times. Regrets over past decisions. Worries that we’ve missed our chance.

Staring out my window, there it was. Mercury in Retrograde, Live. My former life playing out before my eyes. The Bro Show amused me with its antics and made me nostalgic for another time. But this was more direct. This felt personal.

I thought back to the years when I lived alone, when life felt like a series of questions to be answered. I thought about the time that had passed since then. About friends who are no longer here. About dreams that had come true, and others that hadn’t.

There were many things I loved about that time. There were also plenty of things I didn’t.

As I watched the movers bring in box after box, the angry hyena retreated, replaced by an odd tenderness for the current moment. I stepped away from the window, went out into the sunlight, and did my best to greet the day.

When I first wrote about The Bro Show, a few readers commented that it reminded them of the Oscar-winning short film The Neighbors’ Window. If you haven’t seen it, I won’t give away any spoilers. In essence, it’s about two sets of neighbors who can see into each others’ apartments. They each covet the others’ lives, until they meet and discover reality isn’t quite as it appears.

It’s a feeling familiar to all of us, even if we cannot see our closest neighbors. Walking in a city or driving through a town, windows provide some of our best and most intimate glimpses into others’ lives. The everyday scenes of laundry and dishes, punctuated by holiday decorations, glowing birthday candles, flickering televisions. We make up stories, consciously or not, about the people who live there, filling in the gaps as we see fit.

But what if we could look into a window and gain another view of ourselves? Maybe this is the gift of Mercury retrograde. A chance not only to step back in time, but also to gaze forward at our current lives from another vantage point.

On the positive side, I’ve read that intuition is particularly strong while Mercury is reversed, making it an excellent time for reflection. Maybe “retrograde” is less of an ambush and more of a mood. Less of a trickster and more of a planetary therapist who asks, “So, what have we learned? What have we accomplished?” and won’t lay off until we come up with an emotionally satisfying response.

I’m not going to lie, I miss The Bro Show. I miss my old apartment. I miss my dog as a puppy. I miss multiple forms of naïveté I can never hope to recapture. But I’m committed to this chapter. And I’m grateful for the view.

After spending far too much time trapped in the parking facility, we returned home, opened up our brown paper takeout bag and discovered we’d picked up the wrong order.

“Mercury retrograde,” we both said, in unison.

And then I chipped my front tooth.

I am loath to admit I’m scared to get it fixed until after Mercury goes direct.

Whether it’s due to the shifting of the galaxy, the collective energy of this moment, or just my sudden awareness of how glitchy the world is, it doesn’t really matter. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make me a believer.

Mercury will be doing its moonwalk through October 1st, which means we have two more weeks of this nonsense. Whether you subscribe to its powers or not, I figure we might as well take in the view.

Card of the Week

Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.

Featuring the Apparition Tarot Deck by Mary Evans

It may be 2022, and we may have robots that do everything, but I still use a paper planner. Call me a dinosaur, but I find it soothing to physically write down my schedule, reminders, and to-do lists, not to mention check them off as they’re completed. I love that I can leave it open on my desk and see the week at a glance without having to futz with yet another computer tab. And I especially appreciate how it doesn’t harass me with dings or reminders or pop-up alerts.

That being said, it does have a tendency to plague me in its own way. I often find myself staring at the list of things I haven’t done, or fretting over the tasks that inevitably carry over week after week.

This past week was no exception. But one night it occurred to me that I’ve accomplished a number of things I’d wanted to at this time last year. They weren’t shout-it-from-the-rooftop accomplishments. They weren’t bucket list items. They weren’t even the kind of things I’d scrawl on a to-do list.

Instead, they were things like, “get more comfortable being a human person after the pandemic eroded all your social skills.” Or “sign up for a group activity that’s outside your comfort level.” Or “start moving your body again in whatever way feels good for you.”

And so, though my planner told another story, I felt pretty accomplished. I felt like I was doing okay.

The Six of Wands wants you to acknowledge how far you’ve come.

It urges you to remove your focus from the things that haven’t come to pass, to disregard the items lingering on the to-do list. Instead, it wants you to take a look around, fully absorb what’s happening, and say, “I’m here. I’ve made it.” Whether this moment falls on the spectrum between thriving or surviving is not of concern. Whatever you have done — and whatever it has taught you — is worthy of recognition.

Maybe you launched a big project, got a promotion, or welcomed a new family member. Maybe you were greeted with disappointment and are charting an amended course. Maybe you faced hardship and handled it as gracefully as you were able. Whether life unfolded as we wished, or in a very different manner, this card recognizes the ways we tried, and the ways we continue to show up, armed with new knowledge.

Traditionally, this card shows a person on horseback, doing a victory lap while sporting a crown of laurels. Chronologically wedged between the Five of Wands (a card that is often about internal struggle) and the Seven of Wands (a card about how such tumult often manifests externally), the Six of Wands tells a story about how success can be, and often is, a moment in time between those that feel like its polar opposite.

A myth persists that achievement — and often life itself — is a linear operation. Jump from A to B to C, leveling up along the way. It works this way for absolutely no one. There is always a detour or a plot twist, even if it’s not readily visible.

Even among my most supportive loved ones, the focus is often on the outward signs of victory — the do-to list stuff. “Any new work?” they’ll ask. “Any new writing?” Never does anyone ask, “How’s your social anxiety? Any recent conversations that you didn’t repeat inside your head for hours afterward, wondering if you said something dumb?”

But just because something isn’t easily recognized doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. The Six of Wands wishes to remind us that our personal victories can, and often are, worth even more than those that come with accolades.

Too often, we conflate triumph with gold medals and cash prizes. But growth is often a slow, ungainly process happening just outside our view.

So this week, ask yourself: Did you step outside your comfort zone? Did you speak your mind? Did you apply for a new job? Did you go on a blind date? Did you take a class? Did you help a stranger? Did you learn something new? Did you listen with care? Did you offer a hand? Did you take a step? Did you try your best? Did you offer yourself some kindness?

There is lots to do and lots more to learn. But for now, be still for long enough to land inside this moment. Celebrate how far you’ve come.