Lost at sea… but on land? Mars has past shipwrecks

That strange drift you feel—even with both feet on solid ground—doesn’t always make sense. The world sways beneath you, not with motion, but memory. A memory your body recalls, though your mind stays blank. Could this disorientation be a shadow of long-ago seas? Past life astrology speaks of physical sensations linked to ancient trauma. Perhaps Mars, tied to action and instinct, once moved through lives marked by storm and salt.

Picture a life spent on water—sailing, fighting waves, chasing survival. Maybe it ended in chaos: a sudden fall, a ship split by wind, swallowed by deep. The fear, the helplessness, the final moments—buried but not gone. It’s not fear of water now. It’s something quieter. An unease with open places, a distrust of stillness. A flicker of anxiety when the ground feels too still. A body that expects the sway of tide.

Mars carries the fire, but when touched by vast emotion—by water’s weight—it remembers not only the fight, but the loss. You may feel moments of panic without cause. A heaviness in your limbs, like trying to move through current. Or a sudden shortness of breath, as if air turned to sea. These aren’t random. They are echoes, surfacing gently.

There’s no punishment in these feelings—just memory, asking to be seen. Your soul once learned how to surrender, how to survive even when swallowed. Now, the unease is a compass, not a curse. It points not to danger, but healing. Sit with that drifting sensation. Listen to it. Maybe it’s not pulling you down, but reminding you: you’ve surfaced before. You found breath again. And this life—solid, grounded—is the chance to walk steady, without fear. The sea left its imprint, but it also left you alive.