Some experiences are too big for the mind to make sense of.
No matter how hard it tries, it can’t wrap itself around them.
And yet, the mind still tries. Mine does, anyway.
When I heard the news about a young man from our street — someone my daughter grew up with — losing his life in a tragic accident, my mind did what minds do. It instantly went searching for reasons.
For something to cling to.
For something that would make me feel safer.
Was it something reckless? Something avoidable? Something my own child wouldn’t do?
Not because I was judging — but because I was trying to rationalize my way back to safety.
To tell myself that terrible things only happen over there and not here.
It’s the oldest trick of the human mind: If we can explain it, we can protect ourselves from it.
If we can sort it into neat categories — risky vs. safe, right vs. wrong — we can believe we’re immune.
But life doesn’t work that way.
Death certainly doesn’t.

Yesterday, attending the service for this young man, I watched my daughter show up with such quiet courage.
She’s only 24, yet she didn’t hesitate for a second about being there.
She knew — in a way only hard-earned experience can teach — that showing up matters.
Especially when there’s nothing you can say to fix it.
Especially when all you can offer is your presence.
And I realized: she’s been on the other side of loss.
She’s lived through the deaths of three grandparents, two aunts, four uncles, and several beloved pets.
Grief isn’t a stranger to her — and because of that, neither is compassion.
It’s a beautiful but bittersweet wisdom.

🌞 The Sun in Human Design Gate 24 – Rationalization and the Search for Meaning

Human Design Gate 24 carries the theme of Rationalization.
It’s the part of us that tries to fit experience into a logical frame — to explain the unexplainable.
It’s the mental loop that replays events over and over, searching for something that will make them make sense.
This energy was palpable at the service yesterday.
The young man’s father stood bravely before a room full of mourners and shared openly about his son’s life — his struggles, his victories, his heart.
How he had recently found his footing and was finally building the life he dreamed of.
And how that made the loss even more heartbreaking.
This is where our minds scramble for something to hold onto.
Some say things like “everything happens for a reason” — trying to soften the unknowing.
We search for some cosmic explanation that will make the senseless feel bearable.
But deep down, we know: there are no easy answers.
I’ve caught myself doing it too — wondering why my daughter survived three serious car accidents with only minor injuries and major disruption to her life, while others are not so lucky.
Why some walk away, and some don’t.
There are no tidy answers to those questions.
And maybe there aren’t supposed to be.
I often wonder if there are things our souls knew before we even came into this life.
Maybe the timing of our coming and going is part of a plan we can’t fully comprehend with our earthly minds.
Maybe someday we’ll understand—or maybe that understanding isn’t meant for this lifetime.
But even though I believe in that greater mystery, I also know: trying to offer explanations doesn’t ease the grief for those left behind.
There are times when even the most heartfelt philosophies can land wrong.
And so, I’m learning that the greatest gift isn’t offering answers—it’s offering presence.
In the Gene Keys, Gate 24 invites us to move from the Shadow of Addiction (to needing explanations) into the Gift of Invention — creating new meaning from mystery itself.
And ultimately, into the Siddhi of Silence — the deep surrender to what cannot be explained, only honored.
It’s honoring the mystery without trying to fix it.
Gate 24 reminds us that the mind will try to explain and rationalize.
Gate 44 reminds us that the body often knows how to simply be with what is.

🌍 The Earth in Gate 44: Trusting the Body’s Knowing

While the Sun highlights how the mind seeks meaning, the Earth grounds us in something even older—our instinct. Our alertness. Gate 44 reminds us that not everything can be figured out—and that’s okay. Sometimes the deepest wisdom isn’t something we think. It’s something we feel.
It’s the intuitive knowing that tells us, “This matters,” or, “Stay present here,” even when our mind is racing to rationalize.
Today, at the service, it wasn’t the words people said that mattered most. It was the presence. The showing up. The steady, silent witness to grief that said, I’m here, and you’re not alone.
And maybe it’s no accident that Gate 44 is where my Design Neptune lives. Neptune speaks to what is mystical, intangible, beyond the grasp of the rational mind. Having it placed here in my unconscious design feels like a quiet reminder that my role isn’t always to understand—it’s to trust. To be present. To listen to what my body and spirit know, even when my mind doesn’t have all the answers.
The body knows how to grieve. The body knows how to honor life. The mind may fight to understand—but the body remembers how to simply be with the mystery.
This is the wisdom Gate 44 offers us this week: Not to solve the unsolvable, but to meet life with presence, alertness, and trust.

🌑 Other Key Transits: New Moon in Taurus + A Season of Renewal

This week’s New Moon in Taurus carries a beautiful sense of grounded new beginnings. Taurus energy is slow, steady, connected to the Earth — and this particular new moon feels especially potent after everything we’ve been moving through.
It’s not a rushing-forward energy.
It’s a planting-roots energy.
An invitation to slow down, tend to what matters most, and trust that what we nurture now will blossom in time — even if we can’t yet see how.
There’s a tenderness in the air.
Venus, now in Gate 25 (Innocence), is softening our hearts, inviting us back to what’s simple and true.
Mercury is still weaving through its retrograde shadows, offering chances to revisit and reframe what we thought we knew.
And this New Moon feels like a threshold: a chance to choose presence over explanation, trust over certainty.
It’s in this spirit that my daughter and I picked out some flowers yesterday — perennials, ones that will return year after year — to plant in memory of the young man we lost.
There’s something quietly sacred about planting something when words aren’t enough.
About honoring life by creating more life.
About trusting that even when it seems like everything is cut short or senseless, there is still beauty unfolding, even if we can’t always see it yet.
This act — simple, small, and full of heart — feels like a prayer.
One I offer not just for him, but for all of us learning to live with the questions.

🌀 Reflection & Integration – What This Is Teaching Me

This experience — and the reflections it stirred — have been another reminder that life doesn’t follow neat timelines or offer tidy explanations.
It’s been a reminder that presence matters more than certainty.
That love matters more than understanding.
That sometimes the greatest offering we can make is to simply be there — to stand beside those who are grieving, not with answers, but with open hearts.
Losing someone so young brings a different kind of heartbreak than losing someone my own age, though both have touched my life deeply in recent weeks.
While the passing of a close friend from my younger years stirred up its own quiet grief — and the bittersweet realization of how distance can grow between people without malice — the loss of someone my daughter’s age cuts in a different way.
As a mother, it’s almost unfathomable.
Both experiences remind me: we don’t always get to make sense of the timing. We don’t always get to explain why paths cross, why they diverge, or why they end when they do.
The energy of Gate 24 (Rationalization) is still strong — I can feel my mind wanting to find meaning, to piece everything together into a story that makes sense.
But the grounding of Gate 44 (Alertness) — my Design Neptune placement — calls me back to something simpler.
A trust in presence.
A trust that even when my mind doesn’t understand, my body knows how to show up with compassion, humility, and grace.
I’m learning that Radical Self-Trust isn’t about having all the answers.
It’s about honoring the instinct to show up.
To reach out.
To speak, even imperfectly.
And to love without needing to explain or fix anything.
This is not an easy practice.
But this week, it feels like I’m living it a little more honestly — and for that, I’m grateful.

📝 Reflection Questions for the Reader

🔹 Where is my mind trying to create stories or explanations where there are none?

🔹 What happens when I allow myself to sit with uncertainty without trying to fix it?

🔹 Where might my body be offering wisdom that my mind has been too busy to hear?

🔹 How can I honor both the mystery and the meaning of the experiences unfolding around me?

🔹 In what ways can I show up for others — and for myself — without needing to have all the answers?

📍 Navigating Transits with Awareness

If you’re feeling this energy, you’re not alone.

Transits like this don’t create our emotions or challenges—they reveal what’s already moving within us, offering opportunities for deeper awareness and healing.

🌱 If you’re newer to working with Human Design transits (or just want a refresher on how to use them without getting overwhelmed), I invite you to read this foundational post:

➡️ Simplify in 2025: Finding Clarity Through Human Design Transits

Working with transits is not about predicting the future—it’s about learning to trust your inner wisdom, your Radical Self-Trust, a little more each day. 🌟

🎥 Transit Talk Invitation

🚀 Transit Talk with Jess Tilly & me streamed live today!

📅 Sunday, April 27 at 2 PM Eastern

📍 Inside the Intuitive Human Design Facebook Group – and the replay will be available both there and on YouTube at @KathyBochonko.

🎙️Transit Talk is now available on your favorite Podcast Platforms

✨ If you missed it live, no worries—you can catch the replay anytime! We dove into the themes of Gate 24 and Gate 44 and shared some heartfelt, real-time reflections.