Blog
There is a full moon lunar eclipse along the south node in Scorpio—and if you have been feeling ALL. THE. FEELINGS. today (and/or the past two weeks), well, you’re right on time. South node eclipses are about where we’ve been—and even who we’ve been—and who or what (in the external or internal worlds) we need to now let go of in order to step into who we are becoming.
Taurus is fixed earth, the bull—the deep appreciation and pleasure of the body, the earth, incarnation. Scorpio, meanwhile, is everything beneath—beneath the earth, beneath the surface, beneath the veneer of society. Scorpio is the taboo, everything a culture represses and denies. Taurus is the earth unfurling in the height of spring; Scorpio the inward coiling and falling leaves of deep fall.
Welcome to Leo season, sun babies! Leo is often known as the drama queen, the performer, the one standing in the spotlight. But what Leo truly represents in its most evolved form, is the deeply individual, unique creative self-expression each of us, and only us, has to offer this world. The challenge here, is that Leo can sometimes come to depend on, to crave, the applause, the attention and approval of others. That’s why (in the lovely symmetry that is the zodiac), it sits across from Aquarius, who, on the other end of the polarity, teaches us to embrace our weird quirky uniqueness and own that authentic individuality without shame.
As is always the case with a full moon, the moon sits across the sky from the sun in the opposite side of the zodiac, staring each other down, and therefore shining the full light of the sun onto the reflective moon. The moon rules Cancer, so it doesn’t fare well in the opposite sign, Capricorn (it’s in its fall here, a debilitated placement). Capricorn is rather dry and harsh for the watery moon. Ruled by Saturn, planet of boundaries, Capricorn is known for rational thinking, rules and structure—quite different from oceanic Cancer.
Scorpio is not a light and easy sign. It is intense; it asks nothing less than the full transmutation of everything you were into who will become. The Full Moon in Scorpio in the spring reminds us that every birth requires—contains inside of it—a death, loss, grief. The seed must be cracked and hollowed to become a plant. The caterpillar must dissolve before the butterfly will emerge.
Full moons are always oppositions, so the moon in Libra sits across the sky—staring down, and reflecting the light—from the sun in Aries. Libra, as the opposite sign from Aries, is deeply concerned with connection and relationship to others. Where Aries is “I am,” Libra is “I balance.” Libra’s focus is on finding balance through connection and compromise to the other. The Libra-Aries axis, then, is about finding balance and integration between an independent individualistic sense of self and a being integrated into an interdependent network.
This is the Virgo-Pisces paradox, in the vastness of our smallness, and the tininess of our grandiosity. It asks us to hold both giant cosmic awareness, and the mundane tasks of taking out the garbage and making to do lists, in our mind’s eye, at once. And to value both with love and honor. The gift these signs offer us, when we work with their guidance and use them well, is the ability to use Virgo’s rituals, practices, and the beauty of daily routines and details to connect with, empower, and bring to earth the creative and healing power of Pisces’ waters.
Taurus is the sign of earthly-delight, of deep embodiment, of the willingness to fully incarnate on this planet, in this life—and to revel in it. While the sun in Scorpio—sign of the depths, the shadows, the repressed, the taboo underbelly, the sexual, death and loss and grief—reminds us that this delight does not come through spiritual or political bypassing—does not come through spraying flowery-affirmation perfume over the pile of shit we’re wading in. But neither does it come through remaining stuck in dark and shadowy underworlds.
We must travel through the deep, the buried, the subconscious—facing our shadows and our shit—shoveling them up, turning them over, roiling and fermenting them into the compost which feeds our earthly gardens.
Libra season continues the harvest and pushes us into the time of balancing, the time of the equinox. Libra is the scale—of decisions, of choice, of justice. Libra asks us to weigh what we are willing to give, and to give up for justice. What are we as individuals (moon in Aries) willing to offer and compromise in our relationships and, as a society, for collective equity (sun in Libra)?
This balance chaffs against the individual fires of the moon in Aries—sign of individualism, passion, the movement of spring, the strength and courage of the seed to break open in the dark of soil and move toward the sunlight. With Mars retrograde here in Aries too, well, we’ve got some tension simmering.
The current astro weather (full moon in Aquarius opposing sun in Leo) is speaking to the conflict—and potential—between the collective, the communal, and our own personal light, the individual spark in us, the ideas and creative offerings that only we can bring forth. This energy can feel very polarizing—can tear us in two, split us with what we think we “need” to do from what we feel called to do. But it also has much to teach us.
