Cabbage

A Full Cabbage Moon in Aries: Vegetables, Fear, and Coming into Confidence

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The milkweed is blowing to seed, the calendula still blooming, blooming, reflecting the leaves that are falling, falling, as I write. They reached their red peak on the weekend when we were blessed with sunny, bright days of golden mornings and blue afternoons. I harvested and chopped cabbages, some of them 15 pounds, and as I observed them, held them, felt into their growing and their becoming, I realized the cabbage is a lunar plant. I am fascinated by planetary plant correspondences, and I love feeling into them instead of looking them up. The cabbage is lunar because of its color and shape, and also its growth cycle and fermentation cycle, which swells and responds to the lunar energies. Inside, it looks like a brain, which tells us something about our own dispositions too: how lunar we are with our swellings, mental and emotional, as well as physical. Last night’s abundant Full Moon brought some swelling in my ankle and an awareness of what I need to do to better be able to receive. In many ways, this is the culmination of the New Moon’s energies for me. I like tracking the movement between the two.

This Full Moon brought overwhelm, excitement, self-expression, new beginnings and a certain amount of fear that accompanied it all. I like making an intention to release at every Full Moon, and fear is what I want to release this time around; fear doesn’t do well in Aries. It becomes aggressive and agitated. As the leaves fall, I’m deciding to continue releasing this fear stored in my body. I’ve worked enough on where it comes from, I’ve understood the patterns, I’ve seen its cause and effect, and now it is the time to let it go. I can track it in the body. Where is it today? What is it wanting to say? I’ve been doing a daily EFT tapping routine that helps. Mars, Aries’ main planet, is in Libra, where he doesn’t feel so comfortable either, and this has me aware of my own fear and aggression as it relates to those around me. How can I be with the discomfort of fear and the reactions that it brings while holding respectful space for myself and others?

The Aries-Libra axis in the sky runs between the opposites of personal expression and relational ease. At one end of the spectrum, we are at the extreme of putting our needs first, and at the other we are forgetting ourselves to accommodate the other. At the Full Moon, the Moon, now at the end of Aries, fully reflected the light of the Sun, which is in Libra. Both energies of these poles can be lived in the energy of fear or confidence, which are opposite but also complimentary. Fear in some sense allows me to be confident, while confidence pushes me to accept the things I fear. In relationship, we can fear our mistakes and our imperfections: much of the last few years I’ve explored the experience of rejection. If we fear rejection, we often reject things about ourselves. If we reject ourselves, we often fear the rejection of others, and this can then be reflected in our daily lives. I remember I had a dance teacher once who would say to me as I was dancing, don’t reject yourself. I don’t know how she saw that I was doing it as I danced. Rejecting ourselves can be something we do physically without even realizing we are doing it, so it can be good to sit with and consider the things we might be rejecting in ourselves. These could be positive as well as negative things. We might be rejecting our beauty and grace, not just our awkwardness and mistakes. So I think Libra and Aries can teach us confidence despite our shortcomings and with our gifts, both with ourselves and in relation to others.

It is normal, with the fall, to return to past lessons of loss and to see our lives slip by in a sepia-toned newsreel. Yet our lives, like the planets, are always moving. They are not fixed and relatable in a linear way, but movable reflections of our current perceptions. With the Full Moon, we also moved through a square between the Sun and the Moon and Pluto. This brought me the desire to stand in my own power, and I practiced that, being seen, not refusing my own brightness. These reflections were inspired by Kaypacha’s weekly Pele Report, and my sense of the Full Moon as benevolent and abundant came from a Vedic astrologer I like to follow, Keri Shields of Anandashree Astrology. The light of the Full Moon invited us to connect to the energy of the Goddess Lakshmi, born on this night, from the ocean, like Venus. This benevolent energy can accompany us through the waning moon period, which can often make us feel vulnerable and fearful. Venus is in Scorpio now, a dark place for the goddess of beauty to be, so we can remedy any feelings of inadequacy with reminders of Lakshmi’s abundant generosity. Writing this, I’m reminded of how the Full Moon is, ultimately, a time that heightens the polarities. I realize this whole post has been about moving between extremes. This will also become gentler as we roll through fall to the next New Moon. Thank goodness! The energies of both fear and confidence can be tiring and I find, as I’m writing and getting ready to share, that they are both running strongly through me.

I wonder what else I’ll be moving through, and what you are moving through too. If you would like some help coming into confidence, please make a free exploratory call with me. I made a Daikon essence recently, after weeks of working with the plant as a crop that we are transforming into kim-chi, and I love the lesson of this magical, white, root vegetable. It spoke to me of deep-rooted expression. It would love to help you reach your own depths, stand in your power and speak your truth. I’d love to work with you, your cycles, the cycles of the moon and the planets, and the plants, to help you claim your divine creative expression and be seen, shining like a flower. Please connect if you are feeling like you could use some support as you are coming into your own confidence. The world needs your light at this time.

Daikon Flower

Daikon Flower

I wish you many golden mornings and blue afternoons, while we slip into the darkness of winter.