Neptune

Fire in Water: The Full Moon in Pisces and Emotional Clarity

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The wind that started on the last New Moon kept blowing from the South, culminating in the wild wind on the night of the Full Moon, which called to us through the pines on the mountain we climbed and descended, and banged and clanged about our heads in the cabin we slept in. We heard every acorn that dropped, each one pinging off the roof, waking us up and keeping us vigilant to her energies through the night. In the morning some phone lines were down and I felt breathless and full, my ideas overflowing. Here I will spill what I gathered from that light, a dark fire burning in the watery world of emotion. We offered gifts to the mountain and I was gifted clarity. Now the purple asters are blooming and the trees are turning orange and red, beginning their fall turning.

This watery Pisces Full Moon had me feeling deeply emotional, reeling in and out of feeling states. My Sun is in Pisces, so this wasn’t a surprise, and emotions are often high for me at a Full Moon, but this one felt particularly confusing. The Moon was also near Neptune and Lilith, so I also felt extra dreamy, almost overwhelmed with choices and illusion. How do we let our magic flow out into the world? I let myself move through these states, noting them and feeling them down to their core. This is a good practice, to notice an emotion, stop with it and hold it. Where does it come from? What is behind the anger, the sadness, the pain, or the joy, happiness and fulfillment I am feeling? I noticed that I tend to put certain feelings in boxes: my sexual attraction and longing for connection becomes romantic attachment, my sadness becomes poignant nostalgia, my joy becomes fulfilled desires and satisfaction. But when I stop and feel my emotions as energy, they become both less and more. I don’t have to control them or even make them fit into a box. They are there to show me something, to help me pass through something and move forward. They are there to show me what I want and what I don’t want. I don’t need to project them. I practice witnessing them and welcoming them and, when I can, sharing them. Then they are let loose in a way. I let go of the layers of stories I have attributed to them. I am wind-beaten and a little sore, but I am sitting on a mountain with a vantage point, feeling my connection to the Earth, to others and to my own core.

Emotions are the sensing feelers we put out into the world. Like a plant’s flowers, these emotions both pick up and send out energies. When our emotions are clear and balanced, we both draw in what we need – the pollinators who will help us make seed – and protect ourselves from what we don’t want – the other beings who do not have our best intentions in mind. Emotions help us survive, and thus are intrinsically tied to our bodies, our sense of survival and our instincts. I am learning to read what my emotions are telling me, as a human in this world. This takes time, but I am getting better at it. I can more easily observe instead of jump to conclusions, react or cling. I can admit to myself things I have been avoiding, desires I have not acknowledged, yearnings that have sat too long in the dark and are ready to be planted and sprout.

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This last cycle has also brought me renewed awareness of friendship and my connection to others. My connections are increasingly central to my exploration of relationship to the flowers, and vice versa. Today I made a Datura essence in a friend’s garden, because she invited me to come meet the plants she has been lovingly tending. This weekend I worked on a farm with other community members and watched how I was triggered, and then soothed, in waves. The weekend before I sang with friends in Quebec and became more aware of how singing is about the vibrational state of “being with”: being with others, being with myself, being with the world. And this Full Moon I was not alone, but with a friend with whom I could share all these little bits of swirling emotions; every little forgotten flower could open up and come out and bathe in the moonlight. Here I am! Even my shame. A Rosa Rugosa plant told me recently: Know your own beauty! And though I struggle with this, my friends help me. I remember Rosa Rugosa’s message in the mornings when I wake up and look at myself in the mirror. I remember when I see a friend looking at me lovingly. May you all be blessed with the awareness of the love beaming at you from the world, from the eyes of a friend or from the late summer blooms who are spying on you.

My energy has now turned towards bringing in what I will need for the next season, preparing myself for the darker days and longer nights that will come. I’m working outside quite a bit, harvesting, harvesting, chopping, chopping, cleaning, cleaning, serving the humans who will eat the fermented foods I am preparing, but also serving the plants. More and more I feel I am on a mission for them, doing their bidding, and so it feels right to help people connect with them. I feel like a plant translator or interpreter. I teach their language. Soon I’ll write a guide to help others open up to our innate capacity to understand and commune with the plant world. In the meantime, let me know if you want to talk about it! I am offering a free exploratory call to talk about your existing relationship to the plant realm and how deepening your connection could help you. I have several coaching programs that will allow you to start to work with them, ultimately building your own practice in order to work with them on your own. I take into account your astrological chart, your current work with or distance from plants, and your personal goals around living a creative life. What do you think they have to say to you?