Today's meditation: Fitting songs to areas of your chart

This morning I played James Taylor’s “Something in the Way She Moves” and imagined which part of my chart “she” might be.

She has the power to go where no one else can find me
Yes, and to silently remind me
Of the happiness and good times that I know

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YoevtZiVR4k

For me, my Jupiter in Taurus came to mind: The part of my chart that helps me be present and still.

Is there a part of your chart that strikes you as comforting? If you don’t know your chart, is there a quality you have that fills you with a sense of peace?

If this song doesn’t speak to you right now, is there another song that can remind you of a beautiful piece of you?

When Jupiter gets your attention

I’ve won three raffles in the past five days. It’s almost like Jupiter is having fun with me: You were asking when we would get to the good part? Voila.

I don’t usually win things. But my job has had a series of fundraising raffles in the past week, so I gave to each of them. I just considered them donations. But then the emails came: You won the wine basket! You won the soccer tickets! You won the Louis Vuitton bag! Naturally I pulled up the transits to my chart. Is this all about Jupiter in Sagittarius? Why am I winning everything??!!

I’ve heard that Jupiter/Uranus aspects are common in lottery winners. Currently my progressed moon in Scorpio is conjunct my natal Uranus. In the past five days the transiting moon joined with my natal moon, then transiting Uranus, and then my natal Jupiter. Is that enough?

Maybe. Jupiter also stations retrograde today on my natal 9th-house Mercury. In less than two weeks I’ll teach a class about Jupiter in Sagittarius for Fresh Voices in Astrology. In the class I’ll be explaining that natal houses with Sagittarius and Pisces on the cusps are part of our Jupiter story. For me those are houses 9 and 12. Two of the raffle tickets I bought with the intention of giving away the prize if I won: The soccer tickets and the fancy, pricey bag. Two of my friends wanted the prizes more than I did. And so I had my friends in mind when I bought those tickets, and when I won I gave them the prizes.

I don’t know if I had never really won anything before because I was missing that 12th-house element of non-attachment or intention beyond my own ego. But today I feel overjoyed and deeply at peace.

I did buy a lottery ticket and scratch-offs last night, just in case. The scratch-offs didn’t win; maybe the lottery ticket will. If not, I still have great friends, and a great husband, and those several bottles of wine. Today’s Gemini moon is ruled by Mercury, the messenger. I’ve gotten the Jupiter message loud and clear. My cup overflows, and I’m grateful.


Jupiter in Sagittarius: Join me for a webinar on April 20th!

I hope you'll sign up for my webinar! Yay!

 
Jupiter in Sagittarius Lyndon Pic.png
 

When it comes to astrological symbols, if you're looking for excitement and inspiration, Jupiter is a biggie: Not only is it the largest planet in our solar system, but it’s also named after Jupiter in mythology: The most divine ruler. The planetary symbol of blessings, wisdom, faith, risk and joy, Jupiter in our natal charts show us where we naturally have those qualities. We’re born with them and other people likely notice them. But to quote a poster in my son Lyndon’s middle school, “The difference between try and triumph is a little umph." To make the best of our Jupiter gifts, we have to work up some moxie and go for it.

Every twelve years Jupiter returns to its own sign for a year, and this happened on November 8th, 2018 when Jupiter entered Sagittarius. I’m a Sagittarius. I’d been awaiting the year-long transit of Jupiter through Sagittarius the way Lyndon waits for summer vacations: Just knowing how free I’d feel, how happy, how hopeful – basking in sunshine and opportunities. Jupiter in Sagittarius was going to be my very favorite thing. And I’ve had some moments like that, but not consistently. So when do we get to the good part?!

Sagittarius is a sign of adventure and higher learning, connecting dots for meaning and inspiration. And so on April 20th, I’ll be teaching a webinar on Fresh Voices in Astrology in order for us to explore this Jupiter in Sagittarius territory together. Beyond basic keywords, what does this transit mean for us on a deeper level? Using a mixture of astrological tools and contemplative exercises, I'll show you methods for uncovering the good parts, too.

As we make sense of where we’ve been and create meaningful future goals, some Jupiter lessons are constant: The individual ways we’re here to give and receive love; the inspiring breadth of who we already are.

I hope you’ll join me. Crown optional.

https://www.freshvoicesinastrology.com/offers/Gz8GYsYT/checkout

Venus conjunct Saturn and the Super Full Virgo Moon

 
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/dec/27/us-explorer-colin-obrady-completes-first-unaided-solo-traverse-of-antarctica

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/dec/27/us-explorer-colin-obrady-completes-first-unaided-solo-traverse-of-antarctica

 

At 5:15 a.m. EST Venus and Saturn came together in Capricorn, for the first time since Christmas day 2017.

Saturn brings up themes of difficulty/mastery, loneliness/solitude, aging/wisdom, pessimism/realism, limits/a need for careful planning. Venus is associated with love and connection, but also with taking things a little too calmly or compromising too much for a sense of peace.

Saturn can feel harder. But if you’ve ever stuck with something difficult and come away with a lesson or a method worth sharing, that’s positive Saturn. For Saturn in Capricorn I’ve been thinking about Colin O’Brady, the first person to cross Antarctica alone. He called it “The Impossible First.” Lugging over 300 pounds of equipment and faced with whiteout conditions for almost the whole trip, he cried a lot while he was doing it; he said his tears immediately froze on his face. But he just kept going. He had planned, he had trained, and in 54 days he accomplished his goal.

Saturn stories are inspiring: We overcome the impossible with sheer grit and mature steadiness. At least it looks like that from the outside. On the inside we’re more like Colin O’Brady during the actual trek: Almost defeated, unable to see the end or even the next step.

Venus coming to Saturn represents an easing of what’s been hard or limiting for us personally and a call to befriend ourselves anew, from an adult place that honors all of our experiences up to this point. But it’s also a reminder to ally with those who are still limited or suffering, taking us out of isolation to notice who or what has helped us or to notice who or what can use our help.

Tomorrow’s full moon in Virgo is a Super Full Moon. It’ll look bigger and brighter because it’s closer to the earth. The mutable nature of the full moon reminds us of the way life keeps flowing and changing and so do we. And so I hope we can find ways to forgive our failings and to dream as we keep showing up -- human and superhuman, through tears and incredible feats.


Venus's Day (Friday)

Sometimes while I’m driving Lyndon to school we’ll talk about one astrological concept that can get us through the day. When I was looking at the chart of the day this morning, what popped in my mind is Venus.

Friday is ruled by Venus, whose gifts are love, beauty, art, and peace. Today’s Libra moon is also ruled by Venus. So there’s a double message of peace and connection with others. Where the message gets nuanced is in the current sign of Venus, Sagittarius. Sagittarius is an independence-loving sign, seeking and striving for adventure and inspiration. And restlessness isn’t always a great remedy for peace. So how do we reconcile these energies?

That’s for all of us to explore personally, but just knowing that both coexist might help us through today. Maybe we can seek interactions with interesting people; maybe learning, reading, or exploring in some other way can bring us peace. And maybe taking time to remember our best adventures or start planning our next one can help us see where we have freedom and options and get reacquainted with inspiration again.

Partial solar eclipse in Capricorn

 
Just so you know, there's a space that only you can fill. (1).png
 

When I was younger I used to love to be in plays. I loved the excitement of waiting in the wings before the show started. I loved listening to the buzz of the arriving audience. One of the crew members would give us updates. “I saw your Mom and Dad!” “It’s packed!” “We had to add extra chairs.” So much of the overall production was out of our hands. Would the props work? The lighting and sound? Would my partner remember the dance sequence? Even after months of practice I was never sure I was ready. Would my voice crack? Would I forget a line? Would I fall? When the curtains opened it was always an act of bravery and trust for us to perform, because we really didn’t know how we would do or how the audience would receive us. We just tried our best.

I like the symbolism of curtains closing and opening for an eclipse, especially tied in with the new moon symbolism of beginning in darkness. If the sun in astrology represents us, today’s partial solar eclipse blocks our ability to see ourselves fully. So what might we be missing about our own potential right now? What part of us is trying to get our attention, that might be different from the self we’re used to? It’s terrifying to have most of our ego stripped away. But what does that make space for? What was always waiting in darkness or is ready to be seen now?

Saturn and Pluto are conjunct this solar eclipse in Capricorn, bringing up issues of age, excellence, achievement, and solitude, but also control. How much control feels safe for us? How do we over- or under- control? What have we steadily planned for, worked for, built? What’s important to us? And when the unexpected happens, when our hearts are broken in disappointment, what steadies us? What really matters and keeps us going?

I’m carrying the excitement of a beginning with me this new moon/solar eclipse but also the seriousness of Capricorn/Pluto/Saturn, because in some area of our lives the stakes are high. We might be overwhelmed or defeated or terrified. But all of our effort and all of our experience counts in ways we might not understand yet. And when we show up something powerful and unseen swells with love and pride, and marvels. And I hope we do, too.

Exploring Lyndon's and my progressed moon

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I’ve been feeling guilty that I haven’t been writing as much. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. I’ve just been more reserved. I’m wondering how much this instinct to become more private is connected with my progressed moon having recently entered Scorpio. The progressed moon symbolizes our evolving emotional needs and states, and its 2¼-year length is helpful to explore in terms of significant emotional phases throughout our lives.

When my moon progressed into airy Libra I started writing and communicating more in general. I wrote and shared more about relationships – strategies for connecting and finding common ground. I felt compelled to check in. My counseling practice picked up. Even through a divisive presidential election I tried to show respect to people with differing opinions – a huge stretch for a Sagittarius. I was learning to be more considerate.

My moon progressed to Scorpio this summer while I was on a Holocaust Remembrance Trip in Europe with my family. I haven’t written much about the trip because there’s so much to unpack psychologically, and at the same time I’m aware that what I saw and felt over two weeks pales in comparison to what millions of people lived through. In the Jewish Museum of Prague I photographed these children’s drawings from the 1940s. Their teacher, Friedl Dicker-Brandeis, held secret therapeutic art classes in the Terezín ghetto, determined to connect the children to beauty and inspiration even as their lives got more restricted and terrifying. Eventually Dicker-Brandeis was sent to and killed at Auschwitz. I still think about her, trying to understand the evil that she was up against, wondering how I also can be an instrument of love and hope even in darkness. And it’s not always clear to me. It’s just a question. Sometimes the darkness is so potent.

I’ve become more aware of these kinds of difficult truths – how life can be unfair or cruel. And I think it’s giving me more empathy. Fellow water signs Cancer and Pisces are more often touted for their compassion and ability to love. But I’m starting to believe that Scorpio doesn’t get enough credit. With its penetrating ability to plumb the murky and intense, I wonder if the fixed water energy of Scorpio is partly about finding the strength to continue to love and empathize even when it would be tempting to shut out or shut down. Developing the right protections to carry a sensitive soul, like Cancer, renewing in dreamy darkness, like Pisces, but with the reliability of fellow fixed signs Taurus and Leo: You can depend on me. I’m not going away.

Somehow progressed moon signs or phases kick in when we need them to, when we are ready or when life is ready for us to express a new quality. Right before my moon progressed to watery Scorpio, Lyndon’s moon progressed to fiery Aries. Lyndon’s rising to the challenges of his new middle school: changing classes for the first time, meeting new friends, taking responsibility for his homework and grades. I see a decisiveness that wasn’t there when his progressed moon was in Pisces. Then he was more likely to be swayed by what other people said or just to try to blend in and not make waves. Now he’s speaking up with a budding confidence. I have to check myself when he’s a little harsh with me: Do I point it out to him or let him practice this new voice until he gets the right balance? Aries and Scorpio make an uncomfortable aspect to each other – a quincunx – and the two of us try our best to adjust to each other these days. We both can be a little too spiky. In some ways Lyndon is over-confident: He fervently debates that he’s old enough to take two subways and walk a mile by himself to get home from school every day. I counter that parents have a sense in their guts about what’s safe for their children. He doesn’t buy it. But I need to honor my strong intuition, too. He’s 11. It was only last year that he was the spacey kid who got a pencil stuck in his forehead. (For the full story, see my Parenting with Astrology webinar.) So I send him for smaller trips alone and see how he does. I defer when he tells me he’s too old this year to take a Christmas card photo. That’s a hard one for me. But I have to make sure I don’t come off as too authoritarian while he’s learning an Aries sense of his own power.

If I didn’t practice astrology, I could still find a language for what Lyndon is experiencing through developmental stages. And thank God there are so many ways for us to figure out meaning and next steps. But the progressed moon is a simple tool that helps me on a daily basis to understand emotional landscape and phases and cut myself and my family more slack.

I have two more years in Scorpio territory, and I don’t know what that will mean for me as a mother or wife, artist or astrologer, woman or simply a human. The progressed moon in Scorpio merges two symbols of mystery. And so I’m very much exploring right now. The clients who have come for readings lately seem to want to sit in deep space together. I love that. Yet I also feel socially awkward navigating this depth in other settings. What’s appropriate to share and with whom? I’m not always sure. Part of Scorpio is discerning between privacy that feels good or right and privacy that just reinforces a sense of shame.

Both Aries and Scorpio can be powerful, passionate and extreme. They’re both ruled by Mars – the red planet and God of war. And so for the next two years Lyndon and I might not always be so comfortable to be around. We might have to push back in situations we last year would have tolerated. We might have to tell harsh or awkward truths, to each other and to the outside world. In some ways that’s exciting, and I’m happy to be aligned with my child in this way. I have an Aries moon natally and I’m curious to see those energies reflected in Lyndon for the next two years. What will I admire? What will I see that I don’t like? What might I be able to help him understand? How will seeing Aries in Lyndon help me embrace untapped courage and leadership, too?

In two days transiting Mars will enter Aries; it’ll stay in Aries until Valentine’s Day. For Lyndon and me, this will ramp up the intensity and focus of our progressed moons. For all of us in some area, the symbols represent willpower and desire, boundaries and bravery. Pay attention to any unrest or passion, aggression, excitement, or fear you notice, either around you or within you. The next two months will be rife with opportunities to act and react – to challenge our natural patterns and try ways that feel more aligned with who we are right now.

I hope for me that means challenging myself to shed some of the shell I’ve been fortifying myself under – or at least exchanging it for a larger one that leaves space for more company. And so if you’d like to explore your progressed moon or your child’s, please reach out to me. The moon is a symbol of life’s natural phases of growth and renewal. It rules parenting and childhood, our inner life and creativity and our ability to recover and heal. It reveals the most tender parts of us. It can be an act of love to ourselves just to sit in that space, alone or with another: to feel, to wonder, to marvel – at where we’ve been, who we are and who we’re still becoming.