Full Moon in Leo 27º February 16 9:56 am MT

This is a big, emotional, POWERFUL full moon, y’all.

This full moon is a crossroads, a threshold. Forming a grand cross with the sun and the nodes of fate, and with Pluto in conversation with the nodes as well, the decisions we make now are destiny-making choices. (No pressure, lol!)

You can choose to stay stuck in your karma and the past—or you can choose let go, step into an unknown future and evolve. The good news is, these past few months we have been guided, tugged in the direction of our growth; it’s really just taking the risk now to accept the new, to step onto the unworn path, even when it’s frightening. The tides are pulling us, but it’s up to us to go with them, to follow.

The full moon is in Leo and, as with all full moons, it sits across the sky from the sun, traveling this month through Aquarius, the water-bearer. Aquarius is a sign deeply interested in the collective, the communal, in bringing its gifts and visions and innovations, its waters, to the group for everyone’s benefit. Leo, on the other hand, is ruled by the sun and signifies the bright light, passion and heart of each individual.

The polarities of the zodiac signs are not about hierarchy, about one being better than the other, focusing on the community over the individual or vice versa—rather, as with all polarity, the gift is in the balance. The expansion is in the integration.

With Leo-Aquarius, the question is: How do I bring my individual light and gifts, my passion and heart—wholeheartedly, authentically, shamelessly—to the group, for our collective benefit and evolution?

Leo asks us to be brave, unabashed and entirely ourselves; Aquarius asks us to offer our authenticity and wild, innovative ideas and ideals to the greater good.

This time asks us to remember that we are both separate encapsulated souls, and the entire universe itself, all at once. That we are made of starstuff. That the elements coursing through our blood are the same as the ones spinning out the edges of the expanding cosmic-scape. That any division between us is illusory. That we are spinning electrons, waves of potential. That every atom in the universe knows exactly what each atom in my body is doing.

Remember that you are both a single thread, and the entire tapestry. That you are the player on the stage, and the author of the script. The character in the dream, and the dreamer herself.

This is the medicine that you can take if the choices you must make to commit to your own destiny in this moment feel overwhelming, scary or out of reach. You are never alone. You are never not whole. You are only unfolding potential, and there is no mistake in that.

Which, let me be clear, does not mean you cannot or will not make mistakes. The whole business of evolution is in making mistakes, my dear. It it what you do after, what you make of them, how you grow, that matters.

This is also not to say that you won’t suffer for your mistakes. That’s basically what this earth-school is all about, in fact. There are currently six planetary bodies in the Saturn-ruled signs (Capricorn and Aquarius), and Saturn, love, is the task-master, the teacher, Father Time, god of boundaries and god of consequences.

And what Saturn teaches us, what Saturn demands of us, is self-responsibility and accountability. Saturn wants you to recognize your mistakes, your failures, the places you fell short or missed the mark—not to wallow in them and feel guilty or shameful, but to pick yourself up, and do better because of them.

To take ownership, to apologize, to make repairs. To learn from them. To not make the same mistake next time.

Look, I don’t really go in for regret. We do what we do because we are who we are, because we know what we know and have the skills we have and lack the ones we don’t—and then, when we suffer because of that, we learn. We gain wisdom through experience. And though Saturn can seem harsh, that is really what it wants for us, what it asks of us—hard-won wisdom.

We learn what is worth keeping, and what is holding us back. What behaviors, patterns and stories cause us to self-protect, self-sabotage and harm ourselves and others. And, when we’re ready to be brave, we learn to let those stories go.

We learn new skills, new habits, new patterns; we practice and embody those, day after day—Saturn is about the work—and eventually they become our new patterns, new beliefs, new ways we see ourselves and the world.

Which brings us to Venus and Mars…

Venus Conjoins Mars

Venus and Mars, those cosmic lovers, planets of opposites—of love, connection, values and relationship (Venus) and war, aggression, separation and personal will (Mars) join hands today, though they’ve been traveling together for some time, and will continue to do so for a while now.

They’ll meet again March 5, beginning a new cycle of connection, relationship and bridging polarities. That makes the next couple of weeks a beginning of the end of sorts. A clearing out of the old. A purging of old stories, patterns and structures in how you connect and form relationship, of how you manage conflict with others as well as in your own psyche.

And after the Venus retrograde, Mercury retrograde and three conjunctions with Pluto (bearer of all that is buried, unconscious and repressed, all the skeletons in the closet we don’t want to dance with) all in Capricorn, sign of our structures, the literal and figurative bones of our lives, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that this excavation will go deep.

But, also, after all we’ve been through—especially if you’ve been doing the work, wrestling with the demons of old worn out beliefs—this should begin to feel like a final excavation, like one more layer, one more pass to make sure you haven’t missed anything important, before we’re finally ready to move forward. And move forward we will come March.

Sun in Pisces

At the end of the week, on February 18, the sun moves into Pisces and a new solar season begins.

Pisces is the final sign of the zodiac, the oceans of death and rebirth, the cosmic soup. As the final sign, Pisces also carries the weight of all the zodiacs before it, and that can be a heavy weight. But Pisces is also a resurrection, the end bleeding into the beginning, Ouroboros swallowing his own tail, rebirth beginning anew.

Whatever the old patterns you encountered in the past months, whatever mistakes you’ve taken ownership for, what sins you’ve atoned—Pisces teaches us to forgive.

Forgive yourself. Forgive your past. Forgive the parts of you that tried to self-protect, even if it caused harm. Forgive the parts that didn’t know yet what you know now. Forgive others for their self-protection, their lack of wisdom.

Forgiveness without the first step of accountability is bypassing. But first taking ownership and responsibility, and assigning others their due—and then forgiving…? That is freedom.

Trust the larger tapestry, the grand unfolding. Trust that you are held. Gravity holds you to this earth; there are forces holding each star and planet in place, orchestrating the interaction between your molecules and those at the farthest reaches of the universe.

Do not have so much hubris as to assume you are not also held, and guided, by these forces.

Take responsibility for your own will and actions, and trust the dance as it carries you forward.

Full Moon in Leo Ritual + Writing Prompt

1. Light a single candle. White or yellow would be ideal.

2. Stare into the flame. Let your eyes go soft.

3. You may notice how the flame multiplies, reflects itself, how in your relaxed vision, the single flame becomes many.

4. Now, with your eyes open or closed, imagine more candles, hundreds, billions, 7.9 billion candles.

5. Imagine you are moving away from these candles, floating up into space. Watch as they merge together, forming into larger circles of light, becoming, eventually, one bright burning candle, one brilliant sun.

6. Now open your eyes and write on the following questions:

   • What is my light, what are my gifts, that I have been afraid or hesitant to shine into the world?

   • What ideas have I been holding back or resisting because they feel weird, too much, misunderstood or out there?

   • Who or what am I serving by holding them back, by putting my light under a bushel?

   • What gifts and brightness do I owe the world, the collective?

   • How can I find more courage, more heart, to bring these gifts and these wild imaginings into the world?

Photo by Mike Labrum on Unsplash