It’s Sunday morning and the Moon is revving up to it’s fullness in Aquarius. When I think of the Aquarian full Moon, the one word that comes to mind is “illumination.” My son has just discovered technology and he’s skipping me pictures that he’s taking from his ipod. They’re odd pictures. destinations of exotic locales that are dripping with water or mysteriously deep in the Earth. There’s Isla Espiritu Santu in Baja. Isla De Ometepe in Nicaragua. Antelope Canyon in Arizona. Plitvice Lakes in Croatia. Why is he sending me these pictures? Is he channeling safe zones in the midst of some upcoming cataclysm? I’m struck by the beauty of each image, even though they are awkwardly framed.
As the morning dissolves I shift into doing a coaching session. I’m talking to my client about Saturn transiting the 8th House and how it impacted me. It’s when my son was born. I have Cancer in my 8th and the issues of birth, nurturing, home and family hit me square in the third eye. We moved into a house and a week later we found out we were pregnant. Saturn wastes no time. It’s efficient as hell, if hell can be efficient.
During that time, I couldn’t shake the interview that Bill Moyers did with Joseph Campbell. Campbell talked about becoming a parent, about how when a child is born, the parent dies. This was my metaphorical reality during that Saturn transit. I left my corporate gig and turned my back on transfer to New York City, knowing that it is the devil’s playground for me and wasn’t a good mix with a newborn in my life. I wound up becoming a stay-at-home-dad for two years. Saturn did it’s thing.
As I shared this with my client going through their own Saturn 8th House transit, my son decided to Skype me. There he was, showing up in the session, almost telepathically keyed in. I thought about those pictures just a little bit differently. What was he picking up on?
Saturn is transiting his 4th House–intimations of where it is that might be safe.
We’re occupying a strange zone of flatness and placidity. But for how long, we can’t be sure. There are rumblings on the horizon. It’s rumored that five states (Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia, Delaware and Maryland) in FEMA Region 3 will be having massive drills in late September, early October. We’re talking big, with Mers Coronavirus chatter, UN troops, National Guard, etc., etc.. Meanwhile, the rest of the country will be participating, whether they like it or not in a massive blackout/simulated cyber and physical attack will take place in early November called, “Grid X II”. The track record of drills isn’t a good one; 911, 7/7, Sandy Hook and the Boston Marathon ALL took place during drills. All of that is looming darkly on the event horizon.
In the early part of November, we’ll be staring down a perfect celestial storm with the next Pluto/Uranus square at 9 degrees (endings), a hybrid solar eclipse, which does travel across the face of the U.S., that old devil, Mercury Retrograde in Scorpio and of course, Comet ISON (SION) which looks like a weird spacecraft with the Hubble lens removed. Couple this with our above news and the fact that apparently the underground bases and cities are stuffed, stocked and ready to be occupied, it looks as though 2013 is going to get very interesting over the next sixty days.
Meanwhile, the sweet nectar of Cancer occupying the effulgent spaces of Jupiter. I marvel at the thick and full beards of major league ballplayers recalling players from another time, the ghosts of “The Reconstruction” incarnating in the game they made popular at the end of the 19th century.
Beards are also psychic antenna, connecting men within a circle, a tribe or a diamond with a closer sense of purpose, a more unified field. This makes a lot of sense since we’re dealing with players that mostly range from twenty-two to thirty, the sweet spot of Pluto in Scorpio, the most psychic generation of our time.
Restaurants, bars and ice creameries across the country are rapidly being transformed by artisanal cheeses, fresh, grass fed, humanely raised, organic meats, lush organic fruits and veggies, and the sweet cream of gentle goats and cows. The farm-to-table trend is rapidly ascending in the monolithic shadow of the GMO leviathan. This is Jupiter in Cancer giving us the promise and the scent of what it could be like if we lived in a slower world, where people took time to carefully and lovingly produce the best foods and tastes that honor every seed, leaf, herb and animal. We are so close that we can taste a renaissance rising like loaves of bread from ancient grains, before they changed the molecular structure of wheat. This is the fruit and promise of a world in which we can live, where all of life is honored and not desiccated and desecrated. It also poses the biggest threat to TPTW, because once people get reconnected to the roots of their diet and a lifestyle that accompanies it, it takes us out of the synthetic trance that has become a social dominator. It reminds us of what it is like to be home, a home that exists inside each of us.
There’s some backlash, a bit of snobbery surrounding the farm-to-table lifestyle; It’s elite and overpriced. While you pay more for something hand crafted and local, something alchemical happens. You feel good about what you just purchased or even traded. There’s something whole and resonant that takes place. That powered is even doubled when you make things yourself. When I was living in Point Richmond, there was a place that was teaching people how to craft their own soaps, essential oils, shampoos, etc., and it was rapidly gaining in popularity. There’s a major movement taking place, a turning away from corporate dominance, artificial culture and plastic consumption. News that McDonald’s has strange, Morgellons-like fibers in their chicken McNuggets only helps the cause. We’re in a revolution right now and it’s not taking place in the streets, or on universities but in cafes, diners, restaurants, farmers markets and local farms. There is a consciousness that’s arising that tastes good, feels good and nurtures the spirit. It’s popular to talk about the divine feminine these days, well here it is in action, from farm-to-table, from soil-to-soul. Jupiter in Cancer calling us home.
Speaking of revolution . . .
The Aquarian Full Moon is interesting. Right now, as I bang out this post, I’m IM’ed by a FB friend, a woman who wants to post something on my page about “reality magic” and how women that don’t have a corporate gig might want to re-define themselves. She’s got a heavily tilted, Aquarian chart so this makes perfect sense. In it’s most dire manifestation of the opposition, it’s the arrogant patriarchy versus the radical feministas. The Aquarian Moon is cool, even a bit clinical at times. How do the Sun and the Moon play nice? How does Morgan LaFey dance with King Arthur? The Aquarian Moon jolts our awareness. It illuminates our outgrown ego structures and allows us to innovate, make improvements add a strange magic to the Apollonian strength of our solar expression. We have a desire to communicate how we feel in socially networked matrices. Twitter and Facebook will be shot through with lightning bolts of strange, erratic and inspired invention. No idea is too strange to be tried on or stretched out. The Aquarian Moon desires to be heard. She is the prophetess and the oracle The Sun allows her presence. He gives her space in the days when she burns bright. In the solidity and patience of the Sun, she confers gifts, wisdom and messages. Here is how we embrace the energy. The Aquarian Moon feels settled when this occurs, but more importantly, feels recognized and centered. Deeper uncoiling occurs. The moral of the story? Take a madwoman to lunch at a farm-to-table roadhouse and let her read palms for the food.