Full Moon in Virgo

Some people critique astrology as hubris—like, who are we to think that giant celestial bodies have some impact on our lives, who are we to imagine we could begin to understand how even if they did, who are you in the grand scheme of the universe to imagine that the cosmos could interact with or care about your tiny little life?

But to me this has always been the strangest argument. I mean—what hubris is it to imagine you are somehow outside of or apart from the woven cosmic tapestry of life? What hubris is it to assume your choices, your impact, doesn’t ripple out into humanity, onto the planet, into the universe? What hubris to imagine we—and by we, I mean every person, every being, every atom—are not all interconnected and interdependent and entirely relying on each other at each moment?

Does the universe care whether I get the job promotion or not—well, I suppose this depends on the definition of care, but I’d say, no, in the general use of the word, no, the universe doesn’t care if I succeed or fail in this mundane way. But does it matter, to the universe, if, when I hurt someone, I feel remorse, I learn from it, I make a different choice next time? Or if I don’t?

What hubris to not claim ownership, responsibility for our choices and our actions and our individual and collective evolution. If you ask me.

Have you ever looked inside a nautilus shell? Or at the delicate and intricate whorls of a tiny lilac flower? There is nothing in nature, from the tiniest detail to the grandest, that isn’t crafted with absolute exquisite design. Nothing.

What hubris to imagine you are not one more—equally vital and equally inconsequential—detail.

This full moon comes to remind us that the details are as meaningful as the grand vista—no drop of water either more or less important than the whole ocean. It asks us to look at each tiny line, each grain of sand, and each mountain range, each night full of stars—with nothing less than utter reverence.

If only for the moment, until we forget again, just how minuscule, and how vast we are, all at once.

Full Moon 27º Virgo 1:18 am MT March 18, 2022

This full moon fattens in Virgo, sign of the Virgin—the one whole unto herself—the devotee dedicated to the goddess—the small, daily acts of service that add up to a lifetime of reverence.

It sits across from the Sun and Neptune, along with Jupiter and Mercury in Pisces, sign of the fish—swimming the grand cosmic ocean, the ending and beginning, the place where all of our individual drops eventually return, death, rebirth. The vast, veiled planes of spirit.

The Virgo-Pisces axis captures in its polarity what I was alluding to earlier—how a brushstroke is just a splash of color, but together with others becomes a painting—each strand combines into the weaving—an entire ocean is made of single drops. Virgo-Pisces reminds us to see both the forest and the trees.

To not forget the vast family we are a part of—of humans, of beings, of the entire cosmos. And neither to be so lost in this vastness that we forget our own meaning, the small and crucial details of our living. The tiny, seemingly inconsequential rituals, the daily choices—that add up to a lifetime.

This is the final full moon before the astrological new year begins at the Spring Equinox this Sunday. This moon asks for a hefty, final release of what we want to leave in the behind, to recycle and compost to seed our future becoming.

The moon connects in a harmonious trine with both Pluto and the North Node—asking us to do cathartic, bone-deep release now—in order to step into our next level of evolution.

I am using this Virgo moon energy to focus on the small ways I enact devotion in my days to something larger than myself. The ways I use the small mundane acts of living to remember there is something bigger at stake. And the ways I can use these seemingly unimportant daily moments to reconnect to something far more vast and strange than I usually remember to remember.

I’m praying again. First old prayers and bible verses just starting popping into my head, and now I’m embracing them, reclaiming them. Remembering how much I loved the pagan-coated-in-Catholicism rituals of church. How these old words rolling around my tongue were chanted by my ancestors, by billions of human mouths over time. How their meanings are something new to me now—and also something older, and bigger, than me.

(And yes, of course, religion can divide us, and has been used to wreak destruction for centuries if not forever. But at its best, it reminds us that we are a piece of the Whole, and that we are only a piece of that Greater Whole.)

I’m meditating every day. I’m walking. I’m exercising even when I don’t want to. I’m feeling my body as I make my bed. Noticing the brush against my teeth, the bubbles. I’m reclaiming dancing—moving my body to the whims of my emotions, my sensations. I’m writing every day. Sometimes journaling, sometimes writing my novel. But writing. Every. Day.

Virgo calls us to prayer, to devotion, in our daily acts.

How are you living your devotion to Life?

Full Moon in Virgo Ritual + Writing Prompts

Journal Writing Prompt for the Full Moon

- What do you need to release moving into this new year? One way I like to think of this is to consider, what would it mean to not release this pattern or habit or job or relationship or story for another year? What will my life look like if I hold onto this into the next year?

- Who or what do you need to forgive? What do you need to forgive yourself for? Again, imagine what it would be to carry your grievances, resentments, guilt or shame into the next year, and allow yourself the Grace of laying it down. (Remember, forgiveness is not for the other person, it is for you. And it never means you need to let harm remain or come back into your life. It is for you. You don’t owe anyone the carrying of their burdens.)

- What daily practices, rituals or habits do you want to begin (or continue) that help both bring you into presence to your life, and also help you remember and feel connected to the larger whole, the source, the universal weave? What could a daily devotion practice look like?

Creative Writing Prompt

Write a story, essay or poem, in which weaving is connected to memory. You decide how literally, metaphorically, or fantastically to interpret this.

Full Moon Ritual

As the final full moon of the year, just two days before the Spring Equinox (and with its connections to both Pluto and the Nodes), this is a radically powerful moon for release, change, resets and restarts. Use the following ritual to ready your soil for next year, and the new moon in Aries in April.

(Note: Do this after the moon reaches its fullness, so after 1:18 am MT 3/18.)

You’ll need a candle, paper, and some stones or pebbles.

1. Light a black candle.

2. After doing the journal prompts, write on a piece of paper in black pen or marker what you are ready to forgive and release.

3. Gather your stones; have one for each item on the list.

3. Hold a stone and read one item from the list. Imagine as best you can, this situation or story seeping into the stone.

5. Lay the rock on the ground and imagine the earth swallowing it, taking it in, composting it and making something new of it.

6. Repeat with a stone for each item on the list.

7. Burn or tear up the paper (burn it if you’re able; it sends a powerful message to your subconscious but both will work).

8. Take the ashes and the stones and bury/release/throw them somewhere at least a little ways away from your home, in a park, a dumpster down the alley, into a stream flowing away from you, etc.

9. Ask the earth, +/or your guides, +/or your gods to take in what no longer serves you, to recycle it into good, positive, healing energy.

10. Return home without looking back.

11. Snuff out your candle or let it burn itself out (safely, obvs).

12. Remember that every new choice you make matters. It matters to someone, and maybe, perhaps, you can imagine, it matters to the universe too.