I’m waiting for the Full Moon in Sagittarius, fasting and watching what comes out of my shadow. I’ve been deep in shadow work the last few weeks, watching old narratives play out and dealing with old emotional reactions, feeling at odds in some ways with the waxing moon which often brings me more light and energy, but seeing how she sheds light on all things as she grows. She’s up there conjunct Jupiter, showing me the expansive nature of my gestures to escape myself. Sagittarius is about idealism and travel, going beyond and above, while Jupiter wants to party at home, so the Moon opposite the sun there, square Neptune, can fuel conflict as we are forced to see the ways we try to escape our situations, inevitably getting pulled back down to where we came from. Mercury and Mars on the North Node are opposite Saturn and Pluto on the South Node, and that feels like a real showdown, dark and fiery, my past versus my future versus my trajectory in this life. I haven’t been feeling very comfortable, have you? I haven’t felt very empowered to change any emotional patterns either, I’ve been feeling sort of stuck, but maybe this is because I am in the midst of adapting to intense exterior change, and because all the waxing moon is really meant to do is reveal and show. Almost a month ago I officially left Switzerland where I’ve lived since 2003. Fifteen years of identities are falling away and I’m not sure who I am. This is what I see:
A woman with a PhD who feels like a child most of the time. I just moved back in with my parents, and while I was transitioning the last two years, moving back to the US from Switzerland, this seemed like a good idea. Now that I am no longer transitioning, the reality of how it makes me feel is sobering. Sometimes I wish I were miles away again. Yet I’m here because I followed the stream, went with the flow of life, took the path of least resistance, and this is important to me. I believe that this is where I am supposed to be. All my striving to always be somewhere else, be someone else, had to end. I’ve always been running away from myself. I’m not sure what to do with what I see, however. It’s a discovery.
A woman starting a business who doesn’t feel valid and compares herself to others. There is the feeling of being a fraud, which follows me around no matter how experienced I get or how many degrees I have. What makes me deserve to be in this position? Why should I strive to be independent when the rest of the world is not in the flow at all but running in the rat race? Because it is vitally important, for the world at large and the particular animals and plants that we stop running. And that is what I am doing. I want to stop running. This does engage some risk, however. If I stop running, where will I be, who will I be? It’s a discovery.
A daughter who wants to help her family and community and save the world. Of course all of this running couldn’t be stopped if I didn’t have a place to stop, and I am very grateful that I do have a kind of pause setting to be on for a little while, while I build my business and settle. But there is a kind of vulnerability in doing what I am doing that I am not used to. I have been embracing my vulnerability in the last few years, seeing strength in it, but it still feels strange to be here and to not really know what I am doing or where I am going, a big step forward into humility, and my critical mind often won’t let me be. How does one belong to community? How do I help my family in a way that feels regenerative to me? How do I stay when I have never stayed? How do I stay free of despair in the face of all that is dying around me in order to take the ethical action needed to change the world? It’s a discovery.
Maybe the eyes of the flowers have taught me to see myself more clearly. It’s as if I can see myself devoid of color. I’m a kind of outline. The material is fading. I suppose I’m getting back to some more essential core of me, but what if nothing is there once I get to it? That is fear. Stories teach me to embrace it.
I am reminded of the Inuit story of Skeleton Woman that Clarissa Pinkola Estes wrote down in her book Woman Who Run with Wolves. Skeleton woman drags along clanking behind us until we embrace her and bring her home. So I’ve been hunting and running and finally, back home, I have to cry on myself and take out my heart and hear it beat and sing myself whole again. It’s a long journey. Sometime, I don’t know when, I wrote a poem about it:
I’m smilling at Lady Skeleton.
Underneath the skin
of our perfect bodies,
there is fear.
But why? It is only bones,
only that fragile stuff we are made of
only what is necessary, intrinsic, true,
the other side of beauty and of joy
this dark mother that will pull us to her breast.
I would like to look at you
and say we are the same
and pull you to me too
and forgive this mighty love
for that pain which, because we are human
and small, must drip from its bones
or grow from its head like hair.
I would like to go to you
and embrace this darkness too,
this freezing that must come
for there to be a thaw.
I’m smiling at Lady Skeleton.
Maybe the light of the moon is so bright it is like an x-ray, teaching me to see through me to the skeleton within so that I can smile at myself again, make her whole again. I know she wants me to be free.
Nobody else has the plot line for our lives; it is up to us to make it.
Do you want to work on uncovering your shadow and singing or writing or drawing yourself back whole again with the help of the plants? I’d love to hold your hand as we discover what it is we are all about. You can sign up for a free exploratory call with me here. I’d love to talk to you about connecting with the flowers too. Are you curious about how they might help you see yourself more clearly? Have a look at which ones call to you here. My shop is up and running and I can take payments with Paypal and credit cards! This feels like a miracle. If you are not subscribed, sign up to get my blog and special gifts and offers here - coming up soon, a free guide to plant communication!
I hope the moonlight helps you grow all you want to grow and release all you want to let go.
Lots of green and growing love,
Amy