Jessica Shepherd's Blog, page 18

I’m in a room with a group of women. Each woman is being asked the same question about the world events we’ve been experiencing. As I listen, I realize no one has answered from the perspective of spiritual consciousness and I get excited to share and start formulating what I would like to say. After everyone else has shared, it’s finally my turn, when suddenly the group disbands in a hurry and moves to another room. I’m left with words on my lips, but no one to hear them…

This is a dream I had while the Sun was transiting my twelfth house. Can you hear the twelfth house themes of: anxiety, invisibility, powerlessness? It is no coincidence that these types of feelings appear both in waking life and in our dreams during transits to the twelfth house.

Once a year, for 30 days, the Sun will pass through your twelfth house*. We feel at loose ends, uncertain about the future or even who we are. Fears and anxieties tend to visit us. Astrologers typically advise taking plenty of down time during this month. To not push. We are at a low point in our energy and power. Ancient texts link the twelfth house to bed rest, illness, incarceration, solitary confinement- situations where we have little, if any, physical freedom. There are also allusions to being unconscious about facets of our self during this time, so acting prematurely or in haste can bring untoward results.

I’m not one for doom and gloom astrology, yet the above fairly reliably bears out. Why does this happen? To answer that question we need to understand the idea of angularity in the birth chart. The twelfth is one of four cadent houses (3, 6, 9, 12). Cadent is a Latin word, meaning “falling” or “declining” and is the root word in cadaver, corpse. According to Deborah Houlding, as planets move through succedent houses (2, 5, 8, 11) they are said to be “rising to power”, planets moving through the cardinal houses (1, 4, 7, 10) in the “seat of power”, and in cadent houses planets are “falling from power”. But the 12th house has it especially hard; whereas the 3rd and the 9th houses are still able to gather some light from the Ascendant, both the 6th and 12th gather no light.

You might feel as though you are falling at this time – falling backwards into old fears, vulnerabilities, insecurities. You may even feel you are failing, somehow. That all the work you’ve done of recent months suddenly amounts to a pile of sawdust. But as the saying goes, feelings aren’t facts… They just want be experienced and released. And this is key to understanding how to effectively work with the Sun’s transit through this house.

Imagine you are clearing a pool of debris. You’ve gotten to the point to where the pool is all clear- except for that niggling leaf at the bottom, and maybe a rock. These minor things now loom large precisely because everything else is gone, and it has become imperative that you clear this final thing. The rock or leaf is a metaphor for an old insecurity or emotional pattern, and the pool, clearing your consciousness. The twelfth is the house of surrender, letting go, of release into a greater connection to Source and we get there by way of purifying our consciousness of any lingering misunderstandings. This time signifies the very end of a cycle, and at the very end there’s always a bit of clean-up and let-go.

Which is why when I’m in a twelfth house time I honor that I’m in a phase of letting go. When sadness, or regret arises, when a past situation suddenly starts bothering me again, I vow to feel the feeling fully so that I can let go more deeply, and not take it with me into my Sun in the first house time– a time of new beginnings.

We are more aware of our fears during this time, and it’s important to acknowledge them and also not let them run our lives. I literally sit myself down, feel them fully, then give those fears a Divine litmus test by asking my Soul “is this really true?” Almost always, when asked sincerely, I’ll get a “no”. Don’t gloss over fear. Ultimately, fear is an illusion, but you’ve got to know that before you can be free of it.

I take more time and care with my body-mind, noting that my body typically has more chemical and food sensitivities during this time. I clean up my diet. As an energy sensitive being, my vulnerability to picking up external energies is higher; I stay home more, and avoid or limit people and places who compromise me energetically.

As my energy teacher often instructs, “stay inside“. While it may sound like she’s telling me to stay inside my house (which may also be needed!), staying inside is about focusing inward: withdrawing your attention from energies, people and things external to you, and placing your gentle and present attention on how you are doing and feeling. It’s asking: “what do I want or need?” “how do I feel right now?” “what’s going on in my body?”

The Ego who is used to distraction, who equates self-worth with productivity and success, who prefers looking outward and looks for satisfaction there, does not favor the twelfth house experience, to put it mildly. You, too, may feel like a two- year-old being told to stay inside while everyone else is outside having fun. Yet this is the season for retreat. There’s a twelfth house lesson we all learn, eventually: when our soul consciousness really wants us to stop and listen, it can create illness, limitation or calamity. This facilitates finally listening to what we’ve been distracting our selves from, to our detriment. To avoid this, listen to inner signals, intuition, synchronicity, slow down, hermit up.

Always, it’s a time for gentleness, kindness. We can allow our self walks by the sea when we need them, compassion when we feel foggy or uncertain. We can be generous with our self – in our aimlessness, solitude, vulnerability. Inward regrouping is occurring on such deep levels we don’t yet understand. All this non-doing and just being is a different sort of work, so we deserve to curl up in our PJs and stream our favorite shows.

One of the more fascinating facets of any astrological time is how our willingness to flow with, and not resist, a cycle, changes our experience of it. If we don’t regard the vulnerabilities and tendencies that arise right now as “bad” or a sign we’ve fallen into old habits, if we don’t judge our need for inwardness and slowing down as wrong, if we can value the time we need to recover and recoup our energies, we receive the delicate grace of release and renewal. Because, remember, it is exactly that- a phase of a larger cycle.

The wheel is always turning. We will rise, with the Sun, to our seat of power again. For now, we can feel our deeper feelings, let our identity and it’s ideas of “doing” go, and dissolve into the bliss of being.

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*To figure out your twelfth house time:

Go to Astro.com and enter your birth data. Click on chart drawing, Ascendant. Next to the wheel, on your left you’ll see a box with planet glyphs, then another small rectangular box attached to that box that contains something like this: AS, 2, 3, MC, 11, 12 with letters and numbers following. Look to the letters and numbers following the 12. That’s the zodiac sign abbreviation, and the degree where your 12th house cusp begins.

For instance, in this example the 12th house cusp is 21’28’ degrees of Virgo. So this 12th house month runs from the time the Sun is in 21’28’ Virgo – 16’11’ Libra (where the AC, abbreviation for Ascendant, begins). Now that you know your degrees, consult your favorite ephemeris for these exact dates.

 

The post A Month to Stay Inside: Sun in the Twelfth House appeared first on Moonkissd by Jessica.

Not everyone nor everything you encounter in your life is for you. This is a neutral fact. But boy, do we get confused.

I was reminded this while trying to order a dress, of all things. The dress was so delicate, feminine, delicious and yet trying to buy that dress was like attempting to squeeze blood from a turnip. Everything went wrong from square one. The customer service, the sizing, the returns and exchanges. Yet I tried again, growing more frustrated. Until I had the epiphany that, for whatever mysterious reason, this dressmaker’s energy was not resonant with mine.

Resonance is an immediate and undeniable energy of flow, ease and grace that requires no further explanation. You are in flow, agreement, in tune, “on the same wavelength”.

Nothing about this interaction was in ease, grace or flow with me. With who I am.

No matter how beautiful it was, no matter how great I knew it would look on me, I knew that if the dress wasn’t resonant, I wouldn’t feel good in it. And if I did manage to buy it (through sheer Libra Rising vanity and perseverance), it would sit in my closet, unworn. Because that’s the power of dis-resonance; nothing works out well, no matter how much we want it to.

Energetic resonance is a vital element of a fulfilling, purposeful, successful life. When we aren’t in resonance with something or someone we are in dis-resonance; we are not vibrationally harmonious, our energies do nothing to enhance or support the other’s essence.

At best, when that happens, we are neutral, like two ants on a log side by side. At worst, we miss the opportunity to support one another’s true purpose and authentic self– and that’s a tragic loss.

My dress example is easy; relationship is trickier. How many of us lob off parts of our self to create a false sense of harmony? How many of us are like a tuning fork trying to tune an old piano- constantly working too hard to achieve a vibrational match? I did this with a friend who upset me greatly, but who I didn’t want to lose as a friend (when the evidence all pointed to the fact that, maybe, I should). I was afraid of never having this rare quality of connection with another person, ever again. (this fear is so common in my client work, often the number one reason people stay in wrong relationships). So I focused on the parts of our friendship that were lovely, told myself that when these issues came up again, as they would, I would just have firmer boundaries, take the high road, ignore the parts that bugged me, etc. etc. etc. It was B.S. Because that was a choice designed to compromise myself. And it would do the same for her, because I wasn’t honestly meeting her.

Lobbing off parts of your self does not support resonance for either of you.

No matter how beautiful and lovely a person is, if, while with them, you are not able to live your design, say things in the way only you can say or see them, share your unique perception, your heart’s feelings- to literally do and be exactly what and who you were meant and built to be- you are not in resonance. Being around someone with whom you need to hold back your essential self back is the equivalent of having hands that love to build, or heal, and being told to sit on them. It feels kind of annoyingly tolerable for about an hour, but over extended amounts of time it creates major psychic disturbances and physical imbalances.

When we’re in resonance, the opposite happens. As with music, when one energetic vibration matches another, they enhance and expand one another in fantastic ways. When two are in resonance, both become more powerful, bold, rich, lovely. Suddenly, our one person show becomes a symphony. We take flight in life. Dreams come true. We discover latent resources in our self. Our sense of purpose clicks into place. It’s wonderful to behold, and experience.

When we are in mismatch, in dis-harmony and dis-resonance, we suffer.

We can be in dis-resonance with the place we work, or live. My recent decision to relocate was based on this simple fact: I wasn’t resonant with where I was living. I didn’t love it; I wasn’t sure I even liked it anymore. Slogging along for another five years here would kill me. I could feel it. Some friends thought I was being dramatic. Yet I knew I would not progress on my soul’s path without being vibrationally supported by my environment. Not being dramatic -that’s a fact.

Would you ask a plumber to live in a house with leaky pipes and not fix them? An architect to live in a building they are aesthetically averse to? An artist to collect art they did not love? No, because, it would f** them up. Yet so many people are in dis-resonant situations in their lives, and ask this of their self on some level.

People, places, art, music, fashion, ideas all have energies. They either enhance and uplift us, helping us to self-actualize, or they create friction and tension, pulling us down into dis-resonance. Dis-resonance is uncomfortable and no fun. It’s like: having a beautiful dress hang in your closet, unworn; being a summer person living in the North pole; having an expert nose, and a backyard full of roses that have no scent. It’s right for another, just not you.

We are meant to use all of our gifts, and as much as possible. To do so, we need to be around people and environments that are authentically in resonance with us, and we with they. In the right environment, with the right people, we increase our success- that’s a law of Libra. We seek uplift, we seek relationships that enhance and complement us because we are designed to be in harmony within our selves. Resonance is a skill of sensitivity, one you have naturally but may have forgotten (if you are wondering how to develop this muscle, here’s a video I created).

Libra New Moon supports efforts to bring your being and life back into harmony. In what areas of life are you experiencing effortless ease, flow and grace? (i.e., What and who are you in vibrational resonance with?) How can you invite more of that experience into your life? (Cultivating greater inner sensitivity to what and who you like or love helps). Where are you in dis-resonance? Who and what causes you to compromise your essential self, lob off your precious self parts? Why do you feel you need to do that? Fear? Loyalty? Conditioning? Habit?

These are questions to curiously explore at this Libra New Moon, a time to recalibrate your inner Scales and realign in a more harmonious pattern, one that supports the overall expression of your life.

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The post Libra New Moon: What’s Resonating? appeared first on Moonkissd by Jessica.

“If you cannot tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people.” -Virginia Woolf

I’m not one to use another’s tragedy to prove astrology’s accuracy. That strikes me as disingenuous and gimmicky, kind of like people who chase tornados and post them to their YouTube channel. However, facing the potential of one’s death is a Scorpio phenomenon itself, and being on the hairy edge of death has a thrill of aliveness in it, as any Scorpio knows. And sometimes the collective symbols offer themselves up, like dreams straight from the astrological field -as the wildfires of Northern California did, to announce the entry, in wildly devastating accuracy, of Jupiter’s passage through Scorpio.

The symbolism of fire is profoundly Scorpio. Fire dramatically and greedily clears the decks, guaranteeing life cannot go on as it was. All is reduced to ash, nothing can be salvaged of the former life. What is the purpose of fire? Fire purifies. In cooking, it kills bacteria. It transforms, so hard to digest enzymes become digestible. Fire takes one form, renders it dead, so it can transform into something else. With wildfires, it’s no different. Fire is a core element of alchemy, and alchemy is about a substance changing from one form to another. Life itself, with its constant need for evolution, is alchemy.

I have a high school girlfriend whose home, years ago, was burnt to the ground courtesy of New Mexico wildfires. Her husband and 3 kids had to live in a one bedroom apartment for years. They lost everything they owned, save little scraps of their former lives– like an old favorite album covered in charred burns, which they posted on Facebook not too long ago as a nostalgic, sad reminder of what was lost. They had to start over, entirely, a clean break from the past. There was no going back to what was. Her life and that of her family’s were permanently changed from one form to another.

Here’s a question you might want to ask your self: What major transformation, death/rebirth, occurred in your life the last time Jupiter transited Scorpio, 12 years ago? 12 years ago I moved in with my husband and began merging my life with a whole new family. Suddenly I had resources, and a new identity (Jupiter transited my first and second houses): I became a wife, now owned a house, a second income and stepchildren. It was an exciting time of gain and expansion but I also remember mourning what I gave up: a small hermitage in the hills, that I loved (which, ironically, was totally demolished shortly after I vacated it), and my single girl identity.

This is one facet of we’re looking at symbolically, with Jupiter’s passage through Scorpio- the potential for radical death and rebirth in an area of our life. Whether spooked or elated by this thought, consider this: In order to move into something radically new (and I am using the word radical in the original sense of the word, radical meaning, more true to the roots and origin of who we are) something else must die to make way for that. Perhaps the more dis-resonant, un- true to our root self, and untenable our situation has become, the bigger the death, loss, transformation. There’s also plenty of room for Fate, here, that big unknowable force that changes lives in one clean sweep.

An electional chart of Jupiter’s entry into Scorpio features Scorpio’s traditional ruler, Mars, in Virgo square Saturn in Sagittarius, and Pluto square Sun and Mercury (trine Mars). To me, this says Jupiter in Scorpio isn’t messing around. There’s a tremendous amount of energy here, great potential for destruction and rebirth, as we saw with the wildfire. There’s messages about power and disempowerment (Sun square Pluto), precision and discernment (Mars in Virgo) around our belief structures (Saturn in Sag) and mental attitudes (Mercury square Pluto). I believe this rests mostly in our attitudes and approach to how we handle the emotional energies of crisis and change.

While Scorpio also rules: shared resources, money, sexuality, and our lives can benefit in these areas, too, due to the chart, I’m going to focus on this aspect.

Scorpio is a water sign charging the fiery, intense, edgy realm of emotions. How do you handle your emotional energies, when confronted by crisis and transformation? One way to gage this is by how you are coping (or not) with collective events. It’s easy to go over to doom in gloom. And yet, disease, famine, war… there have been way more chaotic times in history than ours. This is the human experience, a neutral fact. Or is it? Collectively, our emotions are hair trigger charged right now; Jupiter potentially offers the light of understanding to our emotional lives, our unconscious conditioned responses, so we can get more perspective on our selves.

Scorpio rules the unconscious, invisible psychic stuff, energies you can’t see. With Scorpio, all of our personal unconscious conditioning -our fears of death, survival fears, deeply rooted Ego conditioning from our childhood- are at play.

In psychology, an emotional reaction is considered a “trigger” when it elicits a negative response in our selves, ie, that person’s anger triggered me. When someone triggers us it often means we have a hook –something perhaps ancient and unresolved that requires more of our awareness to release. We can get triggered by collective events, too. These can trigger trauma wounds, or childhood stuff. After all, childhood is all about doing what we need to survive, and nothing touches off our primal fears like crisis and unknowable change.

I have a client who was long overdue for a move from her home state. Yet she resisted doing anything about that. Then a really dramatic event manifested that caused her to move, about which she felt victimized and overpowered by — similar to the way she felt about her childhood abuser. Coincidence or synchronicity?

Jupiter’s nature is to expand, make our life better (which is why we tend to get restless under a Jupiter transit — we want more, better, bigger). Are we blocking our own growth and expansion because of “stuff” we haven’t yet faced? When a crisis occurs, signaling a sloughing off, a potential for a deeper connection to truth, do we regress back to an old familiar survival state – or find the courage to fearlessly embrace the unknowns involved with change?

Jupiter in Scorpio puts us in touch with primal, often hidden, emotional energies in our selves. How we resist, or flow with, change and transformation, death and rebirth. Our attitude to long-waited changes – do we dig in with our heels, or dig in? Our emotional responses stand to be examined, our motives more deeply looked at, investigated for their truth.

For instance, is fear ever a legitimate response to crisis? Is there any truth at all to fear? In my experience, fear is an Ego feeling out of control. In times of true crisis, there’s no time for fear, only action. It’s only thinking about it afterwards or anticipating it, that we feel fear. Also, one of the qualities of being in the presence of truth is its accompanying energy of fearlessness.

Are fear, gloom and doom, attempting to control, empowered responses?

As the world heats up literally and figuratively, it’s time to learn how to better handle our emotional energies during times of crisis and change. In my experience, most of our emotional responses to crisis is not usually about the event, but another one. This applies to collective events, where I consistently witness people going into fear and “concern” spirals for days on end. Ditto for building stories about “dark times”.

I expect this will make me unpopular, but here goes: If you’re having an emotion about a catastrophe that lasts longer than a few minutes, and you’re not bringing food and supplies, or in it, it’s probably about something else. Either conditioning you’ve inherited from the collective, like a Pavlovian response that says “okay, when this type of event happens we get sad/fearful/despairing/bitter. Ok, now go!,” or it’s a deeper wound of your own being triggered, or you’re not grounded and centered in your own energy. If it’s not happening to you, it’s not personal. It is what is. Don’t generate more Ego energy for the collective by dwelling in disaster. Either find a way to help, pitch in if that’s your thing, or connect with your light. Either benefit all.

For the Empaths who feel everything, I love what Martha Beck says. When she witnesses someone going through something tough, to avoid taking it on, in a nutshell she says, ‘This is their journey. I’ll have my time to go through xyz, but now is not my time. Everyone gets their time.’ Don’t worry, you’ll have your time to feel your own personal crisis or tragedy. Won’t you want people who are strong in their light around? Joining in with another’s or the world’s misery helps no one. It only creates more fear and misery. If you’re not baking someone a cake, better to ground, root and center. Take a walk in nature. Listen to uplifting music. Focus on your furthering your calling.

The fact is: the more focus we place on external events, feeding them with fearful thoughts and “concern”, the more distracted we become from our internal reality, where, with awareness, we can liberate our self -which benefits everyone. Once we stop the fear and warring within our selves we are able to be inspired and take action from a place of grace, not from absorbing external fear energies or being mired in our own wounding.

When we run on old fear conditioning- that it’s a dangerous, scary world; we’re ill-equipped for survival; we’re weak and can’t change; other people are doing this horrible thing to us- we are not only denying our light so weakening our selves, but we are not being honest. We are powerful. We are eternal. We are in charge of our experience. When we own our light it benefits everyone.

And that’s what Jupiter is about, isn’t it? Possibility, expansion, liberation through knowledge and higher understanding. Scorpio/Pluto is about empowerment or victimhood. Together, Jupiter + Scorpio= changing our perspective so that we can feel emotionally empowered in any situation.

This may take some honesty, right? You betcha. We can only be as powerful and strong as we are honest with our selves. I love the Virginia Woolf quote about being the importance of telling the truth with our selves, so that we can clearly see others. Scorpio is the sign of deep intimacy and you certainly can’t achieve that with another if you aren’t being truthful with you. Honesty from the deeps will always surprise and delight in delicious ways- that’s Jupiter, too. Jupiter in Scorpio loves exposing a long buried secret or lie because doing so always brings the light of liberation, truth, understanding.

As my Scorpio energy teacher said to me, “Just one truth can clear away months, years, decades of lies. That’s the power of the truth.”

It only takes one light to chase away the dark.

But this is Jupiter, right? Good, sweet, benefic, gift granting Jupiter.  I read one astrologer say, “I’m excited about Jupiter entering Scorpio!”(even for me, a compatible emotional water sign who gets Scorpio, it struck me as a bit naive for Pluto in Capricorn times). Like homeopathy or a vaccination that contains a bit of the poison or disease therein, Jupiter’s gifts may have a sting to them; we may face a loss to claim a gain. We may have to go into shadow material, expose something dark to claim our light. We may have to tell hard truths to buy freedom. Telling the truth, about our self or another, always feels temporarily uncomfortable to the Ego, but the payoff for doing so is incredible.

It’s like dancing with fire. Sometimes it’s just hot, other times it burns. But when we dance with fire, we feel more alive than we’ve ever felt.

Some of us are built for exactly this kind of work –and that’s something to get excited about (!!) For those ready to: swim in the deeper end of the ocean, get wet in their emotions, explore their interior nooks and crannies with more intimacy and honesty than ever before, it will be an extremely liberating and fulfilling time. For those who don’t want to face their unconscious programming or shadow, who resist imminent change, refuse to acknowledge a hard truth, who have a problematic relationship to the world of emotions, it will be an extremely liberating and fulfilling time (perhaps just a bit more messy). Ready or not, we can expect the kind of thrills and chills that remind us that while we won’t live forever, we’re alive today, right now.

Are you ready to dance with fire?

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The post Jupiter in Scorpio: Dancing with Fire appeared first on Moonkissd by Jessica.

I was feeling very vulnerable last week, struggling with feeling too open and too emotionally raw. You know those times when you feel too tender, too fragile, when just about anything can set you over the edge? I was on that edge.

Then I watched Lady Gaga’s new documentary 5’2”. I was immediately struck by her rare vulnerability. When she hurt, she openly wept; when she felt raw and messy, she let everyone know; when she accidentally hit her producer’s car on the day she was recording with Florence (of Florence + the Machine), she shared how upset she was about that, how exhausted she was, apologized profusely. She cried with her fans, cried when her manager called her with news about her cancer. She fell apart while receiving myriad treatments for a debilitating chronic pain condition (while a make-up artist tried to pull her face together for an interview happening minutes later). She allowed others to witness what she was feeling. No matter what was going on around her.

I walked away with a new heroine, vowing to be even more real than I already am, more vulnerable, expressive, more truthful – no matter how messy that looks. Because, frankly, our deepest source of strength is being true to our self-experience – in entirety.

We’re used to thinking that being a rock star is about projecting a perfected, controlled image (think: Beyonce. In the documentary Gaga makes a joke that every time she sees Beyonce and Jay-Z out she’s doing something unlady-like; she imagines Beyonce’s wondering how Gaga’s pulling this rock star thing off). I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone, rock star or no, more authentic than Gaga.

And this fear of being perceived as too messy, imperfect or vulnerable struck me as a woman’s issue: All this focus on who we are to others (Libra) versus who we are (Aries).

How often we censor our raw, messy experience because we think it makes us weak, crazy, too emotional, when actually it’s denying the truth of our real experience that weakens us. When we’re communicating our needs and feelings, when we’re in our raw honest truth it’s: diva behavior, or “that time of the month”, “bitchiness” “selfish”. So we don’t show up fully. We gloss over our feelings, or intellectualize them, instead of really feeling them.

Or do we go with feeling and sharing what we feel, trusting that those around us can take it?

We aren’t born afraid to be our selves. We aren’t born fearing what other people will do or say in response to us, what their reaction will be. It is learned behavior. It can be scary to be so real, so aligned, so honest, because it pushes other people’s buttons.

Because real-ness is scary to those who can’t be real in their own lives.

Authenticity is something to reject for those repressing the their truth.

Honesty is threatening to those who are unwilling to honestly look at their self.

I’ve seen this over and over. The more authentic and aligned I get, the more my alignment pushes buttons of those who are not. It’s like a freaky circus machine; I show up and like clockwork, I get the experience of learning exactly where another is out of alignment in their self. I used to let what they couldn’t handle give me pause about sharing my self. Until I learned that is not feedback about what I should or shouldn’t share– it’s feedback on who and where they are.

It is never wrong to stand in truth, to show up as how and who you are, to fall apart, if needed. Unlike rock stars, we don’t have people who are paid to stroke our Ego, pet our head soothingly and tell us what we want to hear when we want it. They will have their own reactions, and sometimes that hurts in the exact place we’re endeavoring to be so open – our raw, real, vulnerable heart.

The truth is: some people can’t handle the truth. That’s their problem, not yours. But it’s okay to protect your self if you’re feeling too open. Sometimes that means giving others the “what I tell my mom” version of your emotional well-being. Or texting news that you know someone will have a reaction around, giving them a chance to process their own feelings about it, first, instead of projecting those onto you, initially. This is the right use of Libra’s sensitive empathic energies (versus being non-responsive, non-confrontational or avoidant).

As the Libra Sun opposes the Aries Moon, your authenticity, honesty and real-ness is bound to meet a reaction from others. Now is not the time for gilding the truth, or avoiding it, but for strategizing the best, most compassionate, way for you to stay aligned. Every warrior needs a strategy. Try: looking out for you. Take care of what you need. Put your self first.

In ancient Astrology, Aries is the God-head, holding our Divine nature. In this age of constant distraction, divisiveness, when people feel entitled to share their opinion over just about everything, it’s a good thing to keep bringing your energy and focus back to you — what you want, need, feel, like — and what you do not (just as important). More fully inhabiting the central I AM (God/Goddess) space, is the best defense we have against swirling energies, being thrown off center.

And there may be plenty we do not like. Saturn is square Venus and Mars in Virgo at this lunation. Princess and the Pea, much? We might find our selves feeling ultra sensitive and passionate about issues that, to others, may not seem like a big deal. But it is to us. And that’s ripe for exploration.

Lady Gaga is an Aries with ruling planet Mars joined Neptune. I’d say she knows a bit about holding center during chaotic, big energies. One of my favorite lines in the movie occurs when she’s giving instructions to her dancers, before her big Super Bowl performance. She says, “This is the stamina run. This is when you think you can’t, and you think you need to take an extra breath here or there. You don’t. You push through it, right? You’ve got to maintain your own sense of your Spirit. So when you’re out there, focus on you. Keep the focus on you. It can get very distracting out there with everything going on. This one is about staying grounded and biting it hard.”

This strikes me as sage advice for Aries Full Moon, when emotions and temperatures run hot and high. Things… other people, media noise, little emergencies, world events… can get distracting out there. Keep the focus on you. This one is about staying grounded –and biting it hard.

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photo:Matthew Smith

The post Aries Full Moon: Born This Way appeared first on Moonkissd by Jessica.

It’s relatively easy to match certain archetypes to well-known people who carry their signature. Pallas, healer, warrior and Amazon Queen? Wonder Woman, of course. Ceres, the Great Mother? I chose Beyonce, but there are others who would fit. I’ll nominate Frida Kahlo for Juno, the Divine Consort. But, first, Vesta -a bit trickier.

Why? Her invisible nature. In art, human characterizations of Vesta, the Goddess, are difficult to find. Most commonly she is represented by a hearth, altar or flame, indicating the light of Spirit present. Therefore, people with Vesta strong in their charts typically are aren’t concerned with attracting attention to their self, but with purity of purpose, motive and action of carrying out a holy task or sacred service. To find a modern Vestal you must look past the person, toward what’s being offered.

Astrologically, she represents our capacity for focused dedication. She describes where we may experience limitation and alienation in order to pursue a higher calling. By sign, aspect and house placement, she shows us where, through work, personal integration practices, and use of our kundalini/sexual energy, the Divine can be made manifest through us. She supplies us with inward focus, the pull to serve something higher and spiritually meaningful to us, the desire to connect with Divinity and share that with others. All she asks for in return is our devotion.

As a living archetype inside each of us, Vesta, by sign, house and aspect represents what we are willing to devote our self to –a pursuit or cause that’s deeply personal and holds palpable spiritual power for us. Vesta holds our sacred calling.

There is something stunningly beautiful and pure about someone who embodies Vesta. Just think of your favorite teachers and/or priestesses, people imbued with a sense of purpose and a touch of the holy or sacred. A mentor of mine has Vesta in Gemini in the first house. He’s devoted himself to teaching astrological knowledge, and sharing this wisdom with students. A close friend with a fifth house Vesta in Aries trine her Sagittarius Sun (and Libra Rising conjunct Neptune) is the fire keeper at sacred ceremonies, and follows a very personal spiritual path. She receives Spirit messages from the Divine Mother and paints beautiful pictures, through these instructions. Her paintings regularly leave people weeping, in tears.

How do we discover our Vestal calling? Foremost, look to what lights up your Spirit. Also, wisdom schools. Vesta is allied with discipleship of ancient wisdom, of passing the torch. Steven Forrest had lovely imagery on the idea of lineage that has since stuck with me: Imagine, in heaven, a line of people holding unlit candles. One person holds a lit candle at the end of the line… and when they light the next candle, their own light flickers out. Through generations, the flame stays lit. A sacred body of knowledge can only be kept alive through our willingness to devote our self to it.

Astrologically, Vesta points to your path of sacred service, where you might become a scholar, teacher or priestess, and align your self with ancient traditions or sacred knowledge which also bring you in closer communion with your Divine self. This is notable with prominent planetary contacts between Vesta and the Sun, Moon, Ascendant, Ascendant ruler or Mid-Heaven. But this “Divine service” only happens through total immersion and integration with the archetype on a personal level. In other words, we cannot give away what we do not know intimately within our self, and Vesta requires we integrate our self on deep levels, first.

In a culture obsessed with finding and living our “purpose” why don’t we give Vesta the same weight as the Mid-Heaven, tenth house or the Sun? I believe this has to do with the collective values we’ve inherited. In our culture, it’s hard to separate the idea of purpose from ensuing recognition and material compensation. In other words, if we’re truly on purpose, people will love us, we’ll have the credentials, the book deal, the fan base to go with that “purpose”. Purpose, as an Ego driven concept, is not at all the same as spiritual purpose and personal integration – Vesta’s realm.

In Roman myth, Vesta is charged with never letting “the light” go out for an entire community. That’s big, I mean, it’s LIGHT. Light is the emanation of Spirit – truth, beauty, ease, peace, bliss, healing – itself. For the Romans there was nothing more holy, and no honor given higher, than being a living embodiment of Spirit-in-flesh– as the vestals were. Vestals were said to be the most beautiful and given all the privileges of royalty, except sexual freedom (blame it on the patriarchy).

In the matriarchal version of the myth, Vestals enjoyed sexual freedoms beyond what we know today. Instead of the church, their temple was a Goddess sisterhood cult and while their primary role was also to be the light, the sacred extended to sex. When soldiers would come back from war, the vestals would share their light, sexually, purifying the soldiers of the business of war, by bringing them back into their bodies and sexual instincts. Vestals gave a war-weary man reason to live again. When the wife of an important noble was deemed infertile or failed to produce a son, the King would have sex with vestals, often with different goddesses, and also often anonymously, in the dark, so no one would know the Vestal’s identity. This was seen as a sacred service, and unlike today, there was no moral condemnation for this.

Because we live in a patriarchy quite different from her earliest origins, we, too, often wrestle with the divided Vesta energies within our self. Vesta describes how we hold and use our sexual energy. Do we feel sexually free and self-possessed –or constrained, limited, repressed? Can we sublimate and transmute our sexual energy, use our kundalini for creativity, art, for a higher purpose or calling, without denying our self intimacy? Vesta can point out sexual complexes. A male client has Vesta in Gemini square his seventh house Pisces Moon, oppose Juno

in the first house. His main intimacy complaint is that his committed partner isn’t sexually open and affectionate enough with him. Lack of a satisfying intimate life has been a great source of suffering, taking so much of his focus and so preoccupying (Vesta) that he’s enlisted helpers, healers and teachers in solving this puzzle.

Vesta, the archetype of committed devotion, is also synonymous with free love. This may appear to be a paradox until we understand that this virgin goddess is devoted foremost to her Divinity – to being the light. And as a virgin goddess, sexually whole and complete unto her self, she can embody and share the light with whom she chooses. Similar to Venus, Vesta isn’t bound by conventional relationship contracts. Vesta’s contract is with the Divine. She is sexually free, unbound.

This can present a conundrum for Vestal emissaries living in a sexually conservative society that deifies monogamy. Wrestling with this contradiction, as with my male client, can be a defining life theme for Vestals. When we are divided between wanting sexual closeness and total freedom, a variety of conundrums can ensue. We may even choose to alienate our self from intimacy altogether. As a single friend said to me, when I relayed the myth to her, “That’s my issue with relationship. I want to be in a relationship but I don’t want to give up my freedom. So I attract situations where I’m attracted to people who aren’t sexually desirous of me.”

For Vesta, as with Venus, sex has little to do with procreation, and, if she’s connected to Venus or relationship houses, partnership may come later in life, if at all. Roman Vestals couldn’t marry until they turned 30, well after child-bearing age. Vesta rules the crone phase of the Goddess cycle; some Vestals may not marry at all.

Myself included, I have 3 girlfriends with Vesta conjunct Venus. None of us had a committed relationship before age 30. Now, one is in a non-traditional partnership, the other is still single and I, the most conventional of us all (!), am married. A theme for all of us: retaining our identities as separate from the partnership. I have a very intimate spiritual relationship with my Divine self, which my partner does not share, though our partnership also has it’s own distinct spiritual identity, too. I also enjoy a lot of freedom in my partnership, as he travels for business a lot of the year.

A key to understanding Vesta complexes around the sexual freedom vs. closeness dilemma in intimacy is understanding that for people with Vesta strong in their charts, serving the Divine Self is primary. By not honoring her urge toward personal integration, by denying the call to pursue an activity, vocation or interest that is personally quite holy to us, we can lose our center, and find relationship vexing. Demetra George says, “Vesta functions as the center of the psyche, coordinating various facets of the personality. Astrologically, Vesta symbolizes individuals who are “centered” in their own identity and thus self-determined in their activities.”

Vesta holds our ability to focus and do inner work. Our ability to dedicate our self to a calling that feels personally meaningful causes us to feel centered. Vesta in Taurus will need to be anchored into the body, and have a stable, consistent relationship to their work/spiritual life. Vesta in Scorpio’s focus arises through intense honest intimate experiences, and the capacity for dedication and devotion is strong in this sign. Though that doesn’t always equal monogamy, as I’ve mentioned. I recall a client with Scorpio stellium involving Vesta. She had multiple meaningful sexual relationships though she struggled with the social stigma of being so different from mainstream (until telling her the Vesta myth set her free!). The Vesta calling doesn’t have to be morally right, or right for anyone but us. Another client with a prominent Vesta worked for an escort service for years. Very comfortable with being sexually intimate with many different men, she had no moral qualms with her role.

If she hold our capacity for focus, we can become too focused. This is the classic workaholic; Vesta people typically put their work first, before relationship. For the Vestals, her calling was all-encompassing and allowed her no freedom to pursue anything but her sacred role, including intimacy. A middle-aged client of mine has devoted her life to a personal mission, and amassed an impressive list of heartfelt accomplishments that are very important to her, but she’s denied herself partnership throughout. She has Vesta in Virgo conjoined her Virgo Ascendant, the signature of someone who is extremely self-sufficient, self-contained.

If we feel un-centered or un-focused, that’s also a Vesta issue. When we’re doing work that is not spiritually aligned with who we truly are, we can feel scattered. Vesta in Cancer needs to work with her own emotional energies, before she can be there for others. Vesta in Sagittarius finds her center when devoted to principles, ideas, truths they believe in, and is inspired by those. Vesta in Aquarius discovers personal integration through pursuit of their individuality and uniqueness.

A client told me that she found out her partner was having an emotional affair- and she was enraged about his disloyalty. She has Vesta in Gemini in the Eighth house and Saturn in Sagittarius was transiting by opposition. Seeing this, and intuitively sensing more, I asked about her own divided loyalties (Gemini). She confessed she’s had affairs in this relationship, herself. Certain sign-planet-house combinations will bring up Vesta’s inherent intimacy contradictions, and culture clashes.

Transits from the outer planets to Vesta can point to separations, and re-examination of our relationship contracts. Periodically, the pagan Vestals would abstain from relationship and retreat to healing springs with their Goddess sisters. There, they would renew their spiritual life force and find center again. Purity and purification is an important theme for Vesta, as is regular retreat. We feel compelled to separate, be alone, be in our own space, at these times.

When you’re feeling unclear about your relationships, and especially if your Vesta is active by transit, it’s a good idea to retreat. Refrain from relationship for awhile. Abstain. From sex? Yes. Vesta needs to restore her sexual energy to herself, to get clear and in her own light again, before she can be centered and of service. This is especially true for people with Vesta-Moon and Vesta-Venus aspects. For Vesta, retreating is just good emotional, sexual and spiritual hygiene.

Go to a hot springs. Do a writing retreat. Take some time in the desert, just for your self. With the intention of honoring your self, alienation or feeling lonely dissipates. Pay homage to the Goddess in you, at this time. Doing any and all of the above will connect you to the ancient Goddess traditions — which she would love!

In summary, Vesta energies appear to run counter to modern culture, harkening back to a time when purpose, our divine calling and ability to spiritually serve were all aligned, and were rewarded and honorably valued by our community; when our sexuality was regarded as sacred and owned by no one — not even our committed partners. If these themes present strongly for you, you’re part of an ancient Goddess lineage. These contradictions can make life difficult, if not alienating, for modern day Vestals, but know you are part of a larger sisterhood. May this knowledge be the sparkling spring for you to renew and restore your self.

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P.S. -What to know what Goddess wisdom Vesta has for you, in your birth chart? Order your custom Asteroid Goddess report today.

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Astraea, the Goddess associated with Virgo, was the last immortal to live on Earth, until she left in disgust, so disturbed by humanity’s wickedness, evil and corruption. Being a Virgo, she probably also developed a physical ailment from all the pollution and toxicity. Nonetheless, Astraea became part of the starry constellation we call Virgo and when the planets pass through her piece of the sky, we too can become peevish, turning a critical eye on our life and our world. All the things that we wish were different annoy us. We easily see what needs cleansing, organizing, fixing, improving, healing. Astraea’s legacy to us was the urge for a more perfect existence.

Alas, unlike Astraea, we are not immortal. We live on a planet with homelessness, war, disease and suffering –and, can you believe it?– most of us still want to postpone the eternal invitation to join Astraea in her starry legacy for as long as possible. In my re-imagining of this myth, I like to think Astraea stayed on Earth for as long as she could, too, pitching in at disaster clean-up efforts, helping those who suffered from the evils of corporate giants (or the equivalent of her time), gardening, doing reiki, housekeeping or astrology; offering her spiritual balm and bounty. Astraea offered what she could, offered what she was able. As a parting gift, I also like to think she left us those little angels who tirelessly give the compassionate service of unconditional love to us humans: our treasured pets.

The word Virgo is Latin, meaning self-contained or self-sufficient. The ability to do something, a craft or skill, and do it well, is its own reward; we know we can rely on our own power and resources. Where we have Virgo in our charts, we work hard at perfection, are aligned with the urge for service, to give. And because improving, healing and helping is woven into the archetype, its where we are oriented to give our particular expertise. Not because we know better, or are perfect, if perfection even exists, but because we can. And because Virgo’s built to help and improve– fix a flat, lend a hand to stop world hunger, cut a great head of hair – it’s gratifying.

Virgo’s shadow stems from a warping of that instinct to perfect; criticism, flaw-finding born of perceiving the world, our self and others, as wanting. It’s so easy to grumble about what we’re not able to have, be or do; it’s so easy to shame our self, or others, for not being able. It’s so easy to appreciate what we don’t have much of. It is much, much harder, and perhaps takes a level of spiritual mastery, to value what we do have a lot of. Maybe we don’t have much money, but we have a lot of love to give. Maybe we don’t have health, but we’ve compassion and wisdom. Perhaps we can’t eliminate suffering in the world, but we can reduce our own suffering, which absolutely affects everyone. As we appreciate what we do have, it grows: into vocation, a sense of rich purpose, humble wholeness. What we devote our self to, grows-  that’s Virgo’s harvest.

To flow with Virgo New Moon, take a few humble steps towards making your life a better place to inhabit. Streamline life routines. Organize your junk drawer. Clean up your diet (Virgo New Moon is a great time to begin new health regimes). Start a spiritual practice. Thank the people who are more often an invisible presence in your life (farmers, service workers). Appreciate your pets. Turn a critical eye toward areas that could use your help, but not so critical that you mistake a need for progress for perfection, and fall into the abyss of procrastination or overwhelm –a Virgo hell. Look to the house this New Moon falls for a fresh start.

Be humble: we have such a limited time on this Earth. No matter how imperfect you believe your life or this world is, no matter all you yet don’t have, your life is a humble harvest. Tend your harvest with loving devotion. If you are perfecting your self, do it in the gentlest way possible. If your life is a little to chaotic, create more ease through efficiency. Be of service, in the way you are able. Then revel in these abilities. Maybe the best thing any of us can do is to offer what we can.

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Venus is in Virgo from September 19 – October 13, 2017

If Venus in Leo is all about the bling, the Virgin sets the record straight. Virgo is, foremost, a realist, hardly diving into love affairs without considering how her potential paramour fits into the rest of her life. She is the busy bee, the worker bee who tirelessly gathers pollen for the Queen, not for herself, but because it connects to the endless stream of Divinity, where she belongs. She’s simply doing her part.

No other sign can see her place in the plan so clearly. If her lover does not support her animal rescue volunteer hours on Saturday, working late at the office or time spent introspecting in solitary reflection her blessed priorities – how can he ever understand her? It’s a question of practicality, one essential to this Venus who thrives on the myriad ways she can play conduit to the infinite.

Unlike Leo’s need for largesse, she is one small grain of sand in the ocean and this role suits her. She doesn’t need praise or applause. A kernel of recognition will do now and then. She’s searching for herself in the eyes of Divinity, no less, and surely finds herself there. Divinity notoriously communicates in small, minuscule and unseen ways and Virgo is well versed in the infinitesimal. She wears humility so well – because there’s no better portal for Divinity to enter through than humility.

She’s a sexy beast, too. Oh, can you say contradiction? Behind that prim, proper presentable attire is a wildcat, a tempest of feminine energy who saves herself for her one and only. Her one and only is the spirit-made-flesh variety, aka her divine lover. She is the woman who throughout her-story practiced sacred prostitution as a service to mankind uh, before the time man began viewing women’s sexuality as tempting and evil (for more on this subject see Demetra George’s book Mysteries of the Dark Moon). This feminine sign of Virgo ignites some of the hottest embers. Try Mick Jagger, Catherine Deneuve, Gwen Stefani, Julia Roberts, Melanie Griffith, Kate Winslet, Sean Penn, Charlize Theron, Mae West and John Lennon. Pure and chaste, she’s no tease; she’s saving herself for her one and only. In courtship, Venus in Virgo first exhibits that Virginal impenetrable reserve…and ultimate surrender.

During Venus in Virgo times we notice our particular aversions and preferences in earthy, practical ways.  The Beautiful People, The Uglier the Better noted that in the age of tabloid information, we’re fascinated with capturing celebs in moments, in sweats, with pot bellies, looking generally unkempt – an astute Venus in Virgo observation. Virgo dislikes messy, smelly and crass. Cleanliness is goddess-liness for Venus in Virgo. We’re attracted to purity, elegance, glamour and the beauty of crisp, clean white. She’s the harlot and the saint – a true woman’s woman.

Venus in Virgo always helps a sister out, and if there’s a choice she’ll sacrifice her personal needs first. Maybe she’s a saint, but even Mother Teresa deserves appreciation. How? Notice the details. What may be superfluous information for others never goes unnoticed for her: How she spends her day to day, the new project she’s picked up, re-telling a conversation with a friend. Venus shares, and this Venus needs to share the mundane, ordinary hours of her day with someone who is genuinely interested in her well-being. Every Venus wants you to notice her new hairstyle, but Venus in Virgo needs you to notice the deeper message of the hairstyle – it speaks volumes about what she’s growing toward and moving away from.

Oh, and by the way, she analyzes and analyzes her relationships. Expect it. Love is in the details and by gosh she will find them, hence her reputation for being myopic or nit-picky in relationship. For Venus in Virgo, love is…careful attention.

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If you enter a room to get something only to forget why you went in; if you discover mid-sentence that you’ve lost your train of thought entirely; if you lost yet another several hours or days doing…(yes, what exactly were you doing?) it’s probably not early dementia –it’s Neptune. 

Popular astrological opinion says if we aren’t honoring the Gods in our life, they vie for our consciousness in a disruptive way. With Neptune, we may lose our keys, get lost on the way to a simple errand, lose our motivation for goals, worldly pursuits. We esteem Neptune by consciously developing a relationship to our imagination, dreamtime, the psyche, its images; we honor Neptune in our life through surrendering to a Source bigger than us. Neptune requires an unhurried way of being, but we cannot grasp the beauty, reverie, vastness of Neptune if we’re caught up in the culture of doing.

As such, Neptune rules situations (incarceration, hospitalization, retirement) and circumstances (illness) where you are removed from the world and given plenty of time to navel gaze. Daily, we learn the art of surrender and removal through sleep. I’ve been doing a lot less sleeping during my Neptune square Neptune years. I developed insomnia. I am certain this is an (unwanted) Neptunian visitation, yet when I am in this groggy state, neither dreaming nor fully awake, time moves very slowly and I enter a contemplative state that I otherwise wouldn’t.  It’s spiritually revealing that this fuzzy, cotton-filled state of consciousness arrived on the heels of a very stress-filled busy time when I told myself there wasn’t enough time to daydream, procrastinate or goof off.  Now I do this a lot. I take what Martha Beck calls “flake breaks” – breaking up a time-consuming focused task with… whatever. Yesterday I rearranged my art in my office for far too long; often it’s cat videos. Apparently this is what everyone else has been doing, anyhow.

My bedroom, a place of sleep and sleepless contemplation, is now Neptune’s temple. At 9 PM, I replace artificial light with a single candle. I’ve a new bed and cool white linen sheets. With only quiet and calm allowed here, it has become an ancient dreaming, or dreamless, temple. Before bedtime: I say a prayer, do a guided visualization, read a spiritual passage, poetry, hoping the God will be appeased. I am building a temple to the God oppressing me, trying to reverse the dark enchantment of sleepless slumber.

You can build a temple to Neptune in a garden, a bath tub, or an art studio. Anytime you surrender to Presence, anywhere you spend time outside of time, you dignify the God. So if you find your self falling asleep, or not sleeping at all, becoming unfocused, disoriented, getting no traction in life, ie, symptoms of not enough Neptune, the invitation has been sent. Answer the call by surrendering to it.

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At the end of each summer, like clockwork, I used to anticipate surviving the fall. Thinking about back-to-school, carpooling kids, back-to-school events, weekend social calendars, travel plans… as life spun like a top perilously close to the edge of the table, I believed I could alleviate this feeling of over-extension by getting everything in order. I’d organize the dreaded tupperware drawer, and usually end up more tightly wound. One day, with one more birthday party to throw and dinner to make, I realized the honest truth was that I wanted to do nothing. I would as soon leave the birthday to fate, frisbee’d the family a frozen pizza, and head out to the beach. Which is, happily, what I did.

The tourists were trail-walking in full force. I meandered. Gratefully (because it’s hard to find a place to be alone in big California), I found a secret path no one else was on, requiring only an agile scramble up a cliffside to reach a rocky perch overlooking the sea. The wind whipped past my ears. The gulls screamed. I wondered if the little people below would hear me yell into the wind, so I did. They didn’t. It felt good. I kept yelling. I let out built up frustration and anxiety. I yelled with the gulls and the foghorns, and my problems receded with the tide. I was just a soul on a rock at the edge of the sea.

As I walked down to the beach, I felt lighter, emptier. Liberating my feet of their shoes, I waded into the cold tide pools of the Pacific. Drifting in spaciousness, I remembered the oceans I’ve visited over the years. As a child growing up in the landlocked southwest, I couldn’t wait to live by the ocean. I remembered my first beach experience at the Atlantic, a result of my grandmother’s move to someplace warm, a place she thought “the kids would want to visit me”. We visited often. The Coastal Carolina water was warm, welcoming. In my twenties, living in Hawaii, the water was alive with sea turtles, coral and tropical fish. On a Shepherd family vacation to Baja, the Sea of Cortez’s water was so magically salt-buoyant, I didn’t need to swim to float. Now, in Northern California the mussel encrusted rocks and sea-life rich tide pools made it worth getting your feet bone cold and your jeans wet, just to see.

Consciously spending “time outside of time” is one thing I often suggest to clients experiencing a Neptune or Twelfth House transit, times when uncertainty and anxiety are high. Beach-combing, meditation or getting lost in an art project are ways to spend time outside of time. These non-doing activities alleviate the anxieties and fears accompanying such a time, and loosen compulsive busy-ness at the root source of anxiety. More often, it’s about lessening one’s too high expectations and practicing self-acceptance. When I’m feeling over-extended, pressured or anxious my favorite mantra is:  Nothing to do. No one to be. Nowhere to go. It’s an instant de-pressurizer.

Paradoxically, my most creatively prolific work arises from totally letting go of accomplishing anything at all. Yet, we resist doing nothing. We have ambition drilled into us, a cult of accomplishment, that says only pushing, striving, trying yields results. My dear granny argued that meditation was a time-waster. This was a heated debate in our household because my father was Buddhist. Her parents and grandparents were farmers; manual labor, not idle, kept food on the table. Yet for hours she would sit at her little bay window overlooking her retirement village cul de sac, knitting, curiously waiting to see what or who would happen onto her street. The neighbor’s daughter was visiting …there’s a new teenager cutting the so-and-so’s yard. She would call her sister, my great aunt, who lived next door, report the goings-ons of the neighborhood. I believe this nothing doing quieted and soothed her. She was in her own way letting go and letting God.

With her Sixth House Aries Sun, she was a big believer in human do-ing. Twelfth House/Pisces retirement was hard on her. So much free time was confusing; she would complain that she felt useless. She’s not alone. Like her, we confuse doing nothing with being no one. If you’ve had a spiritual awakening, you know this from experience: our Ego is desperately afraid of going into the void, that empty space of nothingness, while at the same time craving it. Yet at the end of the cycle, or the end of the day, the simple be-ingness of Pisces allows us to, finally, receive our own good.

As the Sun enters Virgo, our pre-autumn syllabus calls for organization, scheduling, and the shoring up of a million little details which are supposed to make our lives better. Even organizing, to-do lists, and getting into better shape can be taken too far; Virgo season can be merciless and tricky when self-perfection leads to our self-undoing. Beware the promised inner peace of a yoga class becoming a full on competition to fit into your favorite dress, or to stay in handstand even longer. Beware especially, if you have an attachment to becoming more perfect. As a balance, at Pisces Full Moon it’s time to willingly turn away from activities that feed our compulsive need for doing more, better. We soul-yearn for simply be-ing good enough as we are.

Now is the time to reverently do nothing. Pisces Full Moon is perfect for daydreaming, spacing out, creating, discovering our hidden fantasy life, helping us to find our particular form of doing nothing. The idea that relaxation, doing nothing, pays dividends in fulfillment and happiness is utterly counterintuitive to our Ego. Pisces asks us to go beyond that idea, and eventually every other, too. Even doing nothing. When we discover that doing nothing helps us do everything better -and- that our Ego can use doing nothing into a way to be more… productive, happier, aligned, enlightened, whatever goal we have made for our self… “doing nothing” then becomes something to transcend, too.  With Pisces, the cosmic joke is on us. Eventually, we will give up all of it, as it all merges into the sea of oneness and Divinity. Then, like the Buddha, the only thing left to do is laugh.

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“There’s a little bit of Amazon in every woman.” – The Lost Sisterhood by Anne Fortier

“Be careful in the world of men, Diana, they do not deserve you.” – Wonder Woman

It’s no coincidence that Wonder Woman was a box office hit in summer of 2017. Here, a fierce and beautifully feminine woman who fought (yes, fought) for the triumph of love and truth over evil. Women love female film role model who don’t fall into patterns of self-deprecation, deference to males, and romanticizing love. Diana is intelligent, creative, strong, able to hold her own under fire, while staying true to her values. She ably and courageously defends, protects and provides for who and what she loves. She is sharp as a tack, visionary, and impervious to the inherited social conditioning of gender identity; she can walk into a room full of men and own her space without being limited by social constructs of gender identity, or being defined by her sexuality.

Almost every little girl who know of her wanted to be Wonder Woman. There is a little bit of Amazon in every woman; her name is Pallas Athene – the asteroid Goddess allied with vision, healing, creative intelligence and justice (yes, there’s a little bit of Amazon in every man, too). Wonder Woman embodies the ideals Pallas Athene represents in our birth chart. Our natal Pallas holds our ability to “see”, to visualize, birth ideas to completion, and our unique skills, crafts and healing tools.

Pallas Athene was Greek named, but the homage paid to Medusa on her battle shield reveals her Amazonian origins. Medusa was a Snake Goddess of certain Amazon tribes. While Diana/Pallas is somewhat more synonymous with the more civilized and cosmopolitan side of this huntress feminine archetype, her roots are tribal, yet she’s more than a warrior. When the Amazons roamed the plain, without men or cities, they had to create a sustainable way of life relying on the skills of one another. The talents of each member were put to use, as needed. Perhaps one sister was a better hunter, the other a better healer, the other able to navigate the sea. Hence, Pallas in our birth chart indicates our creative resourcefulness, the artful mix of practical skills we can utilize for the good of all, as well as our ability to see complex patterns and understand how each part contributes to the whole.

Warrior-ship was a part of the Amazon story, but Amazons trained to protect their tribe from various infractions on their personal liberty and independence – for instance, female slavery, which was a reality for women for a very long time, and still is in some parts of today’s world. If feminism is defined as “equality for all”, these were the original feminists. As tribal culture slowly ceased to exist, Pallas/Diana had to shift her outward form, too. The hunter, warrior, strategist and healer moved from the plains and into the cities, as women fighting for equality in the courtroom, in our political systems and universities.

The urge to fight for equality, for the freedom of all, and the ability to see holistically, to implement our unique ideas and talents, our own special way of seeing, is still alive in our own Pallas as is the urge to put one’s creative ideas into action. Challenging aspects to Pallas can make it harder to access our creative wisdom, or give birth to our ideas. We might feel blocked from giving birth to our good ideas and intuitive knowing, due to conditioning we received around our intelligence and the worthiness of our ideas. To unlock our gifts of creative insight we may need to release negative educational training or early messages around our confidence and true abilities. Flowing aspects indicate a flow of creativity and insight that leads to a special talent for our own particular way of seeing.

I have a personal example. Several years ago, after taking a course in the mystical arts, I made the discovery that I am able to “see” health conditions intuitively. Now, I don’t consider myself psychic – this skill of clear seeing doesn’t easily arise across the board to all issues, but my visions around health questions are eerily straightforward. My Pallas makes an exact square to Mercury, and a trine to Saturn. When I looked deeper, astrologically, the asteroid Hygeia, in the fifth, fills out a grand trine between my first house Pallas and Saturn in the ninth. According to Demetra George, due to her connection with Hygeia, goddess of miraculous healing, Pallas is a significator of the healing arts and a prominent Pallas indicates a potential for working with the healing arts.

Also, funny little note: For followers of Moonkissd, since the beginning (back when a URL was just a landing page for entries), you might recall the entry portal for reading my writing was an image of Medusa’s head. Of course, I had no idea about my natal Pallas/Mercury connection then!

Historically, a women’s value was tied to her biology -not her mental ideas. Pallas reminds us that we are creative beings, that we don’t need another person to validate or fertilize our conceptions; our “idea babies” are just as valuable as our biological ones. The same is of course true for men, whose virgin ideas also create new worlds.

Our natal Pallas shows us where and how our creative, healing energies, intelligence give rise to brainchildren. For instance, Pallas in Virgo’s creative intelligence is its use of mental analysis that gives rise to brainchildren. Conversely, Pallas in Pisces merges with consciousness itself, and channels its perceptions. Pallas in Libra’s creative intelligence comes through it’s unique way of seeing relationships of parts to the whole, while Pallas in Aries’ personal energizing vision stimulates ideas.

Aspects to Pallas, both natal and transiting, can invigorate or challenge our “seeing”. For instance I’ve noticed Pallas conjunct Saturn people have a need to give structure in the material world to their visions. For instance, running a business based on one’s creative ideas about healing. I’ve seen a transit from Neptune opposing Pallas in Virgo confuse or challenge one’s ability to holistically and realistically analyze a situation. Because of her connection to our ability to cogently form intelligent perceptions, this had a similar feeling to a Neptune-Mercury transit.

I’ve always found Pallas’ Greek myth a bit lacking — she doesn’t have a dramatic movie-worthy story like, say, Ceres. Instead we get it in bits and pieces. Pallas sprang from the head of Zeus, born without the conception of a man and woman, hinting at her androgynous and intellectual nature, but also her tendency to feel she must act, or be, like a man (thus, hide her femininity) in order to be effective in the civilized world. She was also the first woman Goddess allowed into the all-male courtroom of Olympus.

However, when I tell this to my women clients who have Pallas strong – often these are women working in a “man’s world” -they mention being at odds with their sexuality in the professional world. A prominent, but challenging aspect Pallas placement can cause a woman to feel schizoid about her softer, sensual, feminine side. In the boardroom, at work, she wonders whether she should wear make-up or not — wanting to downplay her sensual gender so she is seen for her ideas, not her breasts, lips or hips. She doesn’t want her gender to work against her; she wants to be taken seriously.

I’ve observed women clients with Pallas either on their Sun or Ascendant as players in typically male systems. One has Pallas-Sun-Virgo conjunct in her ninth house and she’s a tenured professor at a university who also sits on many different boards in her community. Another client, a lawyer (remember, since Pallas was the first woman allowed into the courtroom, that’s always a sign to look to see where their Pallas is located– many female lawyers have a strong Pallas), has natal Pallas in Cancer on her Cancer Sun. She fights for reproductive/women’s rights (Cancer).

Likewise, I’ve noticed a year with Pallas strong in the Solar Return chart bring a year of fighting for one’s creative identity and ideas in a patriarchal/corporate system. Which brings up an interesting part of the myth– in myth, when Pallas won a contest against Poseidon, she was punished for it. Athenian women lost the right to vote. Many women fear putting their ideas out there, fearing retribution, a fight or insult – especially in an age in which people so freely share their negative opinions. If you have Pallas prominent, you need to find the courage to stand up and speak. As Demetra George says, “On a social level, when half the population does not contribute their gifts and talents, everyone suffers.” This is a remnant of Pallas’ legacy.

The tendency to reject the softer side of the feminine, to participate in a man’s world, can be strong in certain Pallas types. Hilary Clinton, the pantsuit queen, has Pallas in Aquarius square her Nodes, so this is a skipped step, or key, to integrating her nodal axis. For men, Pallas can bring up conflicts with their feminine side, too, and a need for integration. One male client has Pallas in Gemini, conjunct Vesta, square Moon in Pisces. He doesn’t feel he receives enough warmth from his female partners, and experiences alienation at times from them. This masculine linear focus requires integration of mental intelligence with sensitivity, empathy, heart, emotion & feeling.

How does this asteroid work in practice? It’s an interesting question. As I’ve said before, there’s not a huge shared language, yet, around using the feminine asteroids. When we choose to work with them in a reading, with little precedent and room for creativity we are writing the story about “what it means” as we speak. But these asteroids keep drawing my attention by sending me clients, like this next one, with an outer planet transit. I think it’s Pallas in Libra in my own first house, urging me to take my ideas, inner visions, my way of seeing… and run with it.

A client was being stuck on getting a business idea going. She didn’t understand why she was having such a hard time. In fact, that morning, after having an exciting creative brainstorming and list-making session about everything she was ready to do to get going, she went out to her garden and immediately proceeded to pull a muscle in her back. By the time we spoke, she was propped up with pillows in bed.

Neither of us thought this was mere coincidence. What did I spy? Transiting Pluto conjunct her Pallas. In fact, that was the major transit influencing her. With natal Pallas in Capricorn widely opposing her Cancer Sun, too, as we rooted around for answers, I asked, Was there a point in time where a creative idea of yours was shot down? This opened up a world of conversation, and she was able to identify two situations where she had birthed a beautiful “brainchild” and was shamed for having done so. She said she hadn’t dared to create something so beautiful and compelling since! She’d been creatively blocked from implementing her new ideas by a old wound (tr. Pluto).

Recently an astrologer-healer-friend and I had an exchange. I knew that, when younger, she was a warrior- she once served in the military, then eventually became a full-time healing arts practitioner. Astrologer, healer, warrior– all are Pallas archetypes. I inquired after her Pallas: she has Pallas conjunct Pluto in Leo trine Mars in Sagittarius.

By the way, if you are reading this, you might also want to read Christina’s excellent article Why Pallas Athena is the Astrologer’s Asteroid. Pallas indicates a gift for detecting patterns, and our most influential astrologers share her prominence in their natal charts.

To begin working with asteroids start putting them on your radar, and in your charts. Once familiar with the myth, similar to her birth, the right questions and observations spring to mind. Pallas Athene wants to be discovered, engaged, explored, owned. Give voice to the asteroids and you give voice to the Divine Feminine.

Couldn’t we use our own modern version of sisterhood tribe? Awash in a sea of conflict created by the greed and power hunger of patriarchy, the Amazons broke away and started their own matriarchal culture. Whether you believe the Amazon race existed or not (and most scholars do), the archetype is profoundly relevant today. Modern women are tired of playing by the rules of a system that feeds off the oppressed. The Amazons would recognize our story as their own.

You don’t need to break away to realize you are amongst sisters. We each have a Pallas Athene. Look up your Pallas, explore what she has to offer. Her sign and placement will tell you how and where you seek to remedy injustice and oppression. Understand your unique way of seeing, and how important it is for you to share your voice, skills, art, craft and healing wisdom with the rest of the world. The more aspects she shares with the rest of the chart, the more you share in common with your ancient -and modern- sisters. Take heart in that. We are out here!

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Resources:

Asteroid Goddesses by Demetra George & Douglas Bloch

To learn where the asteroids are in your chart, go to astro.com, enter your birth data and click on extended chart selection. Under additional objects select the name of the asteroid you wish to appear.

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