by Angeliska on May 6, 2012
Tonight, as I wait for this epic Supermoon in Scorpio to rise above the treetops, I want to take a moment to write about some of the thoughts that have been buzzing around my head recently. Ever since I retuned from New York, I’ve been in the strangest funk. A deep funk as my friend Sienna would say – the kind of mood where motivation is elusive, and a weird pall seems to hang over everything, even though nothing in particular was really wrong. Or maybe it was, and I just haven’t been letting myself fully feel it. I’ve been feeling like going back to sleep as soon as I open my eyes, even though I’d gotten plenty of sleep the night before, and it seemed to take a monumental effort just to get the day going. I was staying busy, as always, but meanwhile – lots of extraneous stuff was piling up on the perimeter. Emails were stacking, piles of clothes left unfolded; the house started looking distinctly unloved. I knew that by attacking some of these small tasks, I would gain a clearer, or at least calmer state of mind – but I just couldn’t seem to make myself do it. I am not generally someone who suffers from random depression – I usually only find myself in that state in the depths of winter (even during the mostly pithy Texas winters we have here). So what was happening here? The deep funk had set in, and I had to figure out why.
I found myself thinking about the Death card in the Tarot: a card that I find myself explaining to my tarot clients often – always quickly explaining that Death in a tarot spread rarely (if ever) signifies an actual physical death. Death represents transition, transformation, an evolution of spirit from one form to another, greater incarnation. It’s pretty much always a change for the best, though the process can be very painful, both for ourselves and for the people around us. When someone dies, people always say, “Death is hardest for those who are left behind.” and I find that that can ring true often, as we go through an evolution that people in our lives may not be expecting or quite ready for. Maybe they won’t be able to accompany us in the new version of our lives. I’ve been thinking of the image of a shedding snake: staying very still in the corner of its tank while its skin sloughs off. There are things we leave behind, pieces of ourselves, parts of our lives that no longer serve us in what we want to become. I’ve been deep in the chrysalis: a cocoon made of books and writing and reading and being still – seemingly immobile, inactive – while within, strange changes have been taking place. To the outside observer, a caterpillar has done all its work by merely creating its pupa. It would seem that once it has tucked itself away from the world, that it can rest – simply sleep, and awaken only when the transformation is complete. This is not the case. Deep work is happening inside that little shroud, and for a creature to become something so radically different from its former self must be incredibly intense. I realized this once when I found a moth pupa in my garden. It looked so hard, so dead – I wasn’t sure if it has hatched already or not. I touched it, and was shocked when it wriggled! Something profound was occurring within, behind that leathery veil.
Finding myself in this state of transition has been a bit unnerving. I’ve tried to be patient with myself, tried to give myself time to process, to brood, to reflect on the subtle changes occurring within – while externally things have been shifting, too. It’s a time of endings, of cutting loose old ways and old ties. I’m taking a break from several projects that have consumed much of my time and energy over the last year – namely, the two monthly events I do, Vintage Vivant and Exquisite Corpse. I’ll talk more about my reasons for that at some point soon, but for now let’s just say that it’s time to take a rest there, and focus on other things. Even though I feel ready, and in many ways relieved – it’s still hard. It represents a shift in identity for me, and even though it likely won’t be permanent, I feel a part of myself retreating inward. I’ve been feeling less inclined towards entertaining huge groups of revelers, and more drawn to connecting in a deeper way with some of the wonderful people I have in my life. I’m not very good with change, with endings, or with people leaving – I’ve also had some very dear friends move away this year, and just when I was shifting things around in my life to have more time for spending quality time with them. I feel like I’m living in an O. Henry story all of a sudden. Tiny deaths, and big ones – all at once.
I know that new things are on the horizon, and that when one door closes, another opens. I do believe that, I feel it in my bones – but I’m not there yet. It’s hard for me to contemplate the future, or begin working on new projects when I’m still processing what’s currently ending. I think of the butterfly, freshly emerged from the cocoon, with wings still sticky, still soft and fragile. It has to sit there on a leaf or twig and flap its wings for a bit until its ready to fly. How strange that must be, to hatch out of your hidey-hole and discover you’ve become something different entirely. Every day I get closer. My wish and intention for this full moon is to fully walk through this door, to process these endings with grace, and to be fully renewed and ready to take on what’s ahead. On to the next one, eh?
It’s only fitting that as I resumed writing this, a massive storm rolled in unexpectedly, and blew away all the stagnant, heavy air that had been dragging me down all day. It put on an incredible lightning show for us, and smashed down one of the loudest thunder strikes I’ve ever heard! Scorpio brings shifting energies, and passionate intensity. I always say, Scorpio is all about sex and death (no surprise then, that New Orleans is a below sea-level city ruled by Scorpio!) Scorpio is the water sign that represents the deep, completely submerged aspect of water. Even though the tarot card assigned to Scorpio, is of course – Death, I always think of Scorpio when explaining the Moon card. When the full moon rises, it beckons up peculiar creatures from the depths, and these things are not always pretty to behold. The moon calls on our primal, animal natures – the parts of our psyches that are wild, savage and strange. I think of deep sea fish, swimming up from the benthic depths, lured by the brightness of that white orb. Things with too many glowing teeth and little lights on their heads – amazing creepy things that have stories to tell us, messages about what they’ve seen down below. The lobster in pictured in the Moon card is a crustacean messenger, (in a way a kind of sea scorpion) – if you’d never seen one before, you might run from it, rather than think of eating it! The wolf and the dog gather together to howl at the moon – the tamed part of ourselves joining with the wild to share in an ancient form of communication. These animals are the bearers of important lessons, and they show them to us through dreams: even (and often especially) the frightening dreams and nightmares that we may initially not want to examine so closely. Up from the depths of our subconscious these bogeymen come floating, to teach us about what we fear, and what we desire. De profundis clamavi. If you’ve been having weird dreams lately, write them down! Pay attention to them, and try and find out what they’re trying to tell you. I know if I did a reading for myself right now, that I would pull both Death and The Moon. I’ve never really thought of them as being connected to each other until now. It’s so odd that I’ve been meditating on my experience with the Death card so much recently, only to find out yesterday that the full moon would fall in the sign of Scorpio – making it all about being challenged to get clear about what we really want and need in our lives, and to let go of things that have ceased to help us grow, or grow with us. At some point soon, I’ll write about the distinction between Death and The Tower, another card of intense change – but instead, a change that is made for us, usually when we refused to do it for ourselves. The Tower is what happens when we reject the natural process that Death brings us – but I’ll expound more on that card another day…
“Challenge your inner saboteur. Stop poisoning yourself (metaphorically or physically). Be clear about what you want. Who or what is sucking the life out of you? Consider what you would want in your obituary. Imagine the world 100 or a 1000 years from now. Strive to forget if you can’t forgive. Forgive yourself. Redress the balance between the sexes. Redress the balance between your animus and anima. Yin and yang. Check where you have given away too much of yourself. Bring back your power. Autonomy.”
I bought this lunar calendar recently from Rendij Studio – (looks like they’re sold out at the moment, but hopefully they’ll make more soon!) in hopes of staying more in touch with what’s happening in the sky. We have a full moon potluck circle called the Be A Better Witch Full Moon Supper Club, where we meet to share a meal, and to make something of our full moon together – be it a wee ritual, or storytelling, or whatever the host has envisioned. I’m hosting this one, and am planning to make everything I’ve written about here the focus of this month’s gathering – to share stories about subtle deaths, talk about transitions, and discuss how best to work through them. If the wood’s not all wet, maybe we’ll have a last fire for the season – since it is Beltane and all. We can burn what we want to let go of. Oh, and I’m making goat cheese stuffed lychees (little full moons!), and Flower Moon pasta. It will be good to concentrate on hosting something small, something more intimate – with an intention to do this work, and pass through this turning. I’ve been hearing from so many people about their own transitions – so, for better or worse, I know I’m not alone in this. How is the Scorpio Supermoon treating you?