Left Angle Cross of Obscuration
In Human Design, my Incarnation Cross is the Left Angle Cross of Obscuration. This cross is about balancing mystery and clarity, shadow and revelation. It’s a path of holding the paradox that some things must remain hidden until the right moment, while others demand unveiling and expression. It’s about trusting the timing of life and recognizing that obscurity isn’t a block—it’s a teacher.
As a Capricorn stellium, I know the weight of patience, the grit of discipline, and the heartbreak of delayed gratification. Saturn, my ruling planet, often feels like a strict but loving guide, constantly testing my resolve, whispering that every “no” today is a “yes” for tomorrow.
But even with all the wisdom of my chart and my spiritual journey, I wrestle with doubt. There’s a tender space between desiring manifestation and trusting the process, between reaching for the football and fearing it will be pulled away yet again.
This piece was born from that space—a space of hope, frustration, surrender, and the delicate practice of starting again, one breath at a time.
It’s a love letter to the waiting, the forgetting, and the remembering that we are Source itself. The wonder we crave is never truly gone—it’s waiting for us to let go just enough to surprise us.
Left Angle Cross of Obscuration
I sometimes fear the wobble
I mourn the introduction of distance and misalignment for what I’m calling in
And I fear admitting fear of the wobble
Because I think it pushes it further into the vortex
As a Capricorn stellium I know delayed gratification, Saturn has been the Lucy to my Charlie Brown
Today’s the day I think I’ll kick the football
Like I’ve amnesia from the 50 failed times prior
I’m tenderly hoping it’s okay to hope
I’m desiring of one thing to show up from my wishlist
Evidence I’m not just talking to myself or to the wind
And then that doubt pervades and I spiral
And then I mourn because I fear the wobble is now a tsunami pushing things further from my reach
And it isn’t fair and I hate that it isn’t fair
And sometimes I wonder if hell is the persistent waiting for crumbs of manifestation, but smelling the bread
But this hope thing is fickle, it won’t die
So I try to start again
One breath at a time.
And I remember I’m Source and can give my dreams to myself.
I can bake the bread.
I can have what I desire, what I deserve for all that I’ve endured
And I reach to take it and I hold it all in my hands
But the minute I realize I’ve clutched it, its gone
Because I also crave wonder and surprise and ease
So I try to start again
One breath at a time.
There is beauty and gifts in the waiting
In the forgetting and remembering
One breath at a time
