Some of us love to suffer. We’ve grown so accustomed to our pain that we come to like it, on one level--at least it’s familiar--at least it confirms our understanding of the world--at least we have the validation of being right. The thought of giving it up can be terrifying. Not only would it mean visiting its source, but it would mean being in an altogether different way.
The New Moon in Taurus falls at a time of year when, where I live, the air is lush and thick with lilac and scents of blooms and every shade of green bursts forth everywhere as life returns, and we tune our bicycles, turn our soil, and plant seeds in readiness for summer. We are reminded of the rich abundance offered by Earth.
But this Taurus season may feel different from those before, now that Uranus is here.
Libra, as diplomatic, refined, and gentle, is a master at keeping the peace, but what about expressing dissatisfaction, standing up for itself, expressing its needs, speaking to difficult truths? For that, we need Aries.
This Aries New Moon offers us a new beginning in self-healing, and self-trust; trust in the ancient knowing residing deep within our bones, in the ability to heal that we developed life-times ago, that over millennia of abuse, was buried in the sand, but now is being revealed.
Last night, I sat in my small home with a handful of students, reading and embodying each others’ charts, with the intention of helping each other heal. As we journeyed together into the depths of one souls’ chart, the sky darkened outside and the Full Moon rose and shone down on us through the window. And I felt like, this is Chiron, this is Libra, this is Aries, as we hold each other in this space of healing, as we support each other on this journey, as we delve into our wounds for the sake of understanding.
This energy feels to me like silence. Silence, not as nothing, but as the most profound experience. I’ve been meditating for many years, but in the last few days I’ve experienced some of the most profound moments of silence and presence and stillness. And then for a moment everything makes sense and there is nothing to know or understand or say.
The vision on the mountain top is Pisces: knowing the truth of love and oneness, but without the wherewithal to integrate that into daily life. The daily grind is Virgo cut-off from its Pisces polarity. To integrate them is to live in wonder while folding the socks, to remember our interconnectedness while doing our taxes, to soften into the moment wherever we are.
This is an opportunity to reflect on and heal from trauma in a supportive environment. It’s also an opportunity to begin anew. To consider our hopes for the future, to make new connections, make new friends, and start or join new organizations.
Leo, ultimately, signifies the journey of the soul, through creative pursuits, and erotic adventure; learning through its many mistakes and inadvertent woundings of others, arriving eventually at its source, the wellspring of creative/erotic energy. The treasure of the epic Lion’s quest is the true and uninhibited expression of this raw vital energy, yet, tempered by the compassion Leo gains through its adventures and misadventures.
The other night, I was overcome by this profound wave of emotion and knowing, inexplicable and unverifiable, yet undeniable, this feeling of: we are gonna fucking do this. It felt like, collectively, we hadn’t really decided if we are up for the challenge. We hadn’t really decided if we are willing to be fully in our bodies and to face the wreckage of the past thousands of years….
Let’s gather together, loved ones. Let’s honour the darkness within, from where our vision grows, and let’s celebrate the return of the Sun, the lengthening of the days. More and more I feel like community is everything. How will we overcome? There is only one way. Together.
Is it getting louder, brighter, bigger? That’s Sagittarius. What a lift in the mood after Scorpio (even if Mercury and Venus are still there). Don’t get me wrong. I love Scorpio (actually, it’s my favourite). But we all need a break at some point. We’ve been underground for a while, and goddess, the sky is beautiful, now that we’ve come up for air.