by Dr Demeter | Magical Farm Tasmania | August 2025
There are some wounds that never fully close, not because we are broken, but because we are still listening. During this Chiron retrograde, I’ve been reflecting on a quiet ache that has followed me through many seasons. It’s the ache of trying to speak from a living, plural, and embodied place in a world that often only recognises binaries. Right or wrong, fast or slow, professional or emotional…
This ache isn’t just intellectual. I feel it in my throat, in my belly, and in the soil beneath my feet. It appears when I try to express something that matters, something layered and regenerative and it gets flattened, misheard, or pushed aside. Not because it lacks value, but because it doesn't fit into the dominant way of listening.
Often, the systems we are asked to work within seem unable to hear what doesn’t follow linear logic, individualism, or urgency. They struggle to hold nuance, community truth, or ideas that come from lived experience rather than institutional authority.
For me, this is where Chiron’s wound lives: in the longing to be truly heard and deeply held, even while speaking in ways that don’t conform to what the world rewards. We all have different Chrion wounds depending on where in our chart.
I’ve found guidance in unlikely places:
The sword teaches me how to hold boundaries with precision and grace, how to speak clearly, without attack.
The soil reminds me that everything meaningful takes time, decay, and transformation.
The silence shows me how to trust what is not yet fully formed.
And the soul? The soul carries the memory of what it feels like to be fully met, and keeps reaching for it, no matter how many times it has not been.
Chiron in Taurus, especially in the house of communication 3rd house, which is the case for me, invites us to stay with the discomfort of not being immediately understood. It reminds us that speaking with integrity is not about winning arguments or performing knowledge. It’s about being in relationship, with the land, with language, with each other.
This wound is not mine alone. It’s shared by many who are speaking from the edges of systems, from in-between spaces, or from bodies and traditions that are routinely dismissed. But within that wound is a medicine: the capacity to listen deeply, to honour what doesn't fit, and to compost the patterns that silence us.
So I offer this reflection as a marker in the morphic field, not to solve anything, but to signal resonance. If you have ever felt like you are both too much and not enough, too complex and too slow, or simply misunderstood for the way you communicate care, then know you are not alone.
There is another way emerging. It’s quieter, slower, more relational. It’s already growing in the compost, in the fencing hall, in the kitchen garden, in the shared breath of those willing to listen differently.
And you, my love, are part of it.
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