Today's Pisces moon and entering the flow

This morning I woke up in a panic: How should I use my day off? I have so many projects going at once -- astrology projects, gardening projects, and general family projects that are ever looming. The last photo album I made for Lyndon went up to age two. The symbolism of the sky is so centered around creativity and expression that it can be both exciting and overwhelming. Am I doing enough?

I was thinking about the fixed nature of this week’s Aquarius full moon, and the idea that our lives and ideas have lasting impact. They just do. We’re all important. But every now and then we see ourselves as separate from the mix. We wonder where we fit in. When that happens, what’s our natural instinct: Is it to assert ourselves, seek company, recede?

I noticed this week that Lyndon hasn’t turned the pages on his Page-a-Day calendars since June 25th, his last day of school before summer vacation. He doesn’t know what day it is. He just goes with the flow. And under today’s Pisces moon that’s inspiring to me. I started a new job two weeks ago. Maybe today I can give myself a break.

Flooded by input from superstars and influencers, it can be hard to look beyond images to see the deeper ways we’re all the same. The mutable water symbolism of Pisces reminds us of both change and source. Has the flow of our lives taken us away from or brought us closer to whatever happens to be our own personal source - - God, creativity, family, love...?

It might help today to take a break from structure and routine in some way, even if your nature is more hard-driving and productive. The work and the ideas will be there when you get back, and they may gain new inspiration.

Sometimes we need to lose ourselves to find ourselves. But a lasting spark remains. To quote one of my favorite Pisces, Mister Rogers: “You can never go down the drain.”

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

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

 
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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

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.

Bittersweet endings meet firsts - The last quarter Cancer moon

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As Mercury changes sign to Virgo today during the Cancer last quarter moon, change and loss of control are bittersweet. Be gentle with yourself and with others. Take a moment to feel proud of your effort, or your loved ones, or something you in some way gave birth to. They might have to leave your orbit to become better or more purely themselves.

The good, the bad, and the ugly

The Aries moon opposed Venus in Libra this morning.

Yesterday’s NY Times Style magazine had an article about Ree Morton: “What Does it Mean to be a Mother and an Artist?” In the profile and in her art I see the Aries/Libra polarity. What are we compelled to do for our own sake? What would help the people we love?

In 1972 Morton sent her three young children to live with their father so that she could be an artist in New York. In 1975 she created this sweet and loving piece.

I can put myself in Morton’s shoes. And I can put myself in her kids’.

Aries/Libra sometimes works out as what helps me helps you and vice-versa. But sometimes we’re left longing and disappointed, or we have to let down someone we love. Sometimes different roles within us need to duke it out.

Today it can help to read the good parts of our story, but not in a fairytale way: Mixed in with the scary, hard, or bad parts -- trying to see them from different angles or in a new way.

It’s a better story that way, filled with complicated heroes, including us.

The Aquarius Moon: Can you be Original and responsible?

The moon is in Aquarius today. But how do we embrace our inner rebel on a Monday? Should we all just call in sick?

Because I’m a Mom raising an Aquarius child, I’ve had to think outside the box when giving Mom Lectures to Lyndon. I can’t just use “Because I said so.” I try to give information. I try to respect his autonomy. But I still need to lead him somehow. He’s 10. So it can get pretty weird in our house. One lecture I heard myself giving a few months ago even sounded ridiculous to me as I was saying it: “Lyndon, I’ve noticed you’ve been letting a lot slip lately, and I think it’s time I told you about the double rulership of your sun.” WHAT?! Did I really go there?

I did. I told him that Uranus rules Aquarius, and I thought he was doing an excellent job of doing the things that Uranus symbolizes: Being original, unique, independent, free. But I told him that Saturn also rules Aquarius.

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Cancer Moon Feelings

I’m missing my guys this morning. I’m in Durham, learning more about the moon from Steven Forrest, surrounded by friends and other passionate astrologers I have yet to meet. I’m grateful to Steven for making yet another long trip to teach us. I love the class, I love exploring this city. Last night at the end of a Bulls baseball game I saw the longest, best-timed fireworks show I’d ever seen. Whenever it seemed like the end, more fireworks would show up for an extended encore.... The girl behind us screamed “This is the Best! Night! Ever!” I was so content to share that moment with a friend just minutes before the New Moon. But when I woke up in my hotel room this morning, I just missed my family.

I miss coffee in bed with Langston and a morning hug from Lyndon, all movement, excitement, and bones.

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