by Angeliska on March 9, 2016
The new moon in Pisces eclipse is inviting us to plunge into the depths, a voluptuous mermaid or wizened sea-hag who beckons us with long green fingers into her cold and wet embrace. Watch with round and wondering eyes the silver scythe of a moon setting on the horizon, that light coming down low – sinking slowly into the water. A fingernail paring belonging to a maiden goddess, glowing like an ancient opal. The reflection of your own face so familiar, wavering on the liquid surface. What shipwrecks lie beneath? Long kept secrets are being revealed. We are being given the opportunity to contemplate the deeper mysteries, to hold our breath and dive down to the ocean floor, hunting the pearls of wisdom until morning.
Pisces is my rising sign, and usually the first thing people guess when they’re trying to figure out what I am in the zodiac. The eyes give it away, probably. One astrological interpretation of my chart described me thusly:
“Generally, you have inclinations and tendencies for the following:
professions dealing with occult matter or mediumships, religion,
seafaring, acting, psychometry, clairvoyance, painting,
poetry, mysticism, and espionage.”
I’d say that sounds about right!
from The Symbolist Tarot (A project I sincerely wish had come to fruition!)
I’ve been thinking about the Queen of Cups with this moon, and what she has taught me about self-care, and the dedication necessary to re-route the urge to help and heal every other broken baby bird in our lives when it is often ourselves most direly in need of healing. It’s easy to become a martyr from this place of constantly pouring out, without ever taking the necessary time and space to replenish. Compassion must begin with the self: because there are no truly selfless acts. The gifts you share with others must be offered freely, because it is truly your pleasure to do so. The best way to prepare for that work is to know how to give to yourself, and how to graciously receive the kindness and self-compassion that you would selflessly offer someone else. The Queen of the Waters teaches us how to refill our own cups from the bottomless well of the spirit, and to drink deeply – refreshing the places where our spirits have grown frayed and withered. Take the time to sit alone, to reflect, be still and quiet as a calm tidepool. What would be most nurturing for your soul right now? Perhaps it’s taking the time to write by hand in your journal every day, to converse with yourself in a friendly way – to transcribe and meditate on the dreams that come through in sleeping time, when the subconscious mind wakes up and wanders through other worlds. This is a powerful time to be creative – to dance, draw, dream and let the hidden messages from our subconscious psyches drift to the surface. Take long baths, anoint your skin with nourishing oils, or maybe receive a massage, some healing touch. Watsu is a gentle form of relaxing bodywork that takes place in a pool of water. Spending some time swishing around in a salt water float tank can be incredibly restorative, and becoming more and more easily available. Go swimming, in fresh water from the springs, if you can. Spend time nurturing friendships that feel reciprocal and supportive. If you’re ready to do some serious emotional healing, it might be time to find that skilled therapist or healer who really gets you, (or who at least might be smarter than you) – ideally someone who practices a modality that is effective in releasing ingrained old patterns or trauma that you’re ready release. It helps to drink lots of water – always, but especially when doing deep emotional clearing work. Ingesting and immersing in good water helps reconnect us back to the source, the primeval headwaters from which everything originates.
This spring new moon is beckoning us towards a powerful time of renewal: of coming back into the body, and awakening consciousness. It’s time to open up our hearts like the bright blossoms and new leaves bursting forth outside! We are being given new opportunities to tend to our own healing and return to the work of nurturing new growth. Spring is a powerful season for clearing any stagnancy or old wounds from the past that have been hurting and blocking us for too long. This is a perfect time to do some spring cleaning and deep clearing of inherited pain from our family lines.
I have been seeing representations of that heavy ancestral energy show up in many of the tarot readings I’ve given for quite a while now, and have been actively seeking an effective method to assist my clients in moving through their familial baggage. I feel very called now to offer a way for my beloved tarot clients and dear friends to partake in a method I’ve found to be incredibly helpful, called Family Constellations. This April, I will be very honored to host a beautiful healer and longtime friend from the Bay Area, Akasha Heather Christy, who facilitates this amazing healing modality. Akasha will be leading a workshop for us here in Austin, at my home. Here’s some information about this work from her:
“This is Akasha writing you from the Bay to invite you to this workshop that Angeliska and I are cultivating. It is my great pleasure to have the opportunity to come to Austin and share this work of Family Constellations with you. Angeliska is herself an amazing healer, and I am honored to spend this time with her, and with you all, doing this much needed work. Family Constellations provides a means to identify the unspoken and unconscious emotional patterns which affect our lives. It reveals the stagnant patterns which extend through generations of ancestry in a phantom-like manner, showing up in unaccountable ways, dragging on our spirits – in order to open a door towards deeper soul level resolution and healing.
By revealing the places in which we have given over our attention, our life force, and our dreams, we can see how we are respecting those who came before us. We are always seeking to respect our families – our ancestors. That being said, when there is tragedy in the family line that has gone unnoticed or ignored, it wreaks havoc on our lives. We can spend our whole lives unconsciously focusing on these places that are unresolved. Whether it is genocide, war, lost love, lost children, displacement, addiction, mental illness or loss of fortune – any of these things in our family history can impact how we live our lives now. This weekend event is an opportunity for us to gather and go into these hidden places, and share the process together with the morphogenic field in order to offer resolution to ourselves, and those we love.
Because you have an issue which doesn’t seem to be going away – problems that take too much of your attention, and are able to trace sources of the issue back to your family of origin.
You are willing to allow your intuition and feelings be a source of exploration and resolution – you are willing to let go of logic long enough to allow the mystery to show you the way through to new perspective and opportunities.
You are open to working with others, to witness and serve those around you to discover new healing for old wounds.
You are thirsty for a new experience in your life – ready to make a change, and allow yourself to operate differently.
This experience stands to completely transform your perceptions around how you relate to your family and loved ones, and will offer you a greater capacity to let go, open more, and share more deeply. It will offer a level of internal resolution that will serve every relationship you have – including and especially with yourself.
We will be sharing this work on Saturday, April 16, 2016 from 12 noon – 6pm and Sunday, April 17, 2016 from 12 noon – 6pm
If you’d like more info, or to register, contact us soon!
“The Lost Correspondent” by Jason deCaires Taylor in the waters of Grenada.
I’ve been dreaming, not surprisingly, of water for the past few nights. Water in dreams is emotion, and so I always try to pay attention to the currents: where is it choppy, with rough waves – or tranquil, clear and serene? Is the water a rushing flood, a tidal wave, a pristine spring, or a polluted puddle? Pay attention to what the water is doing in your dreams. It will tell you so much.
Last night I dreamt of inspecting exotic mushrooms for sale at the hippie food co-op. I can’t make up my mind about which fungus would be best (black and robust with thick stems like tree trunks, or slim pale straw mushrooms that look like little ghosts), so instead I select a petite aristolochia specimen, with intricate crazing designs on its heart-shaped leaves and big floppy dutchman’s pipe blossoms that are periwinkle blue with confetti sprinkles that look splatter painted on. The man I nearly married is sitting at a table nearby, and we amiably discuss my marvelous plant until the store manager approaches and asks if we’re “in loooooove“. We both pause awkwardly and are silent, not knowing how to answer, until I put my hand on his shoulder and say, “We were once, a while back – very much so. But not now. Not anymore.” It doesn’t feel bad to say this. We are at peace. I go to the lake, an old place, somewhere in Upstate New York. The water is clear, sea-glass green, but with fuzzy black shapes covered in algae, indistinctly waving beneath the surface. I start to wade out, to investigate what they might be, but something stops me. It doesn’t feel entirely safe. I say to my friend who is perched above me on the rocks that there has always been something about lakes that creeps me out. She says that the other lake we visited that one summer is truly ancient: formed millions and millions of years ago. There’s something in the way she says it that seem to imply that this lake is perhaps artificial, man-made, possibly polluted. I get the feeling that the Slithery Dee might live there. Something that might wrap an eel-like black tail around my ankle and yank me down. The dark shapes in the water look like people. Maybe the frozen statues of figures standing in circles. Lost ancestors waiting beneath the waves.
The night before last, there was a big storm in my dream – prophetically perhaps bringing the real thing not long after. I was supposed to go in to a doctor’s appointment, but they called me from the office, not wanting me to risk it. The sky was dark grey, and the wind was starting to pick up. Electricity is crackling in the air, making the new leaves shiver. Fat drops were starting to come down, but I was thinking about chancing it and trying to get on the road anyway, when I noticed that it had actually been raining heavily for days. My yard was flooded, but not in bad way – just, a water feature that got beyond itself. The long neglected pond had filled up and overflowed its confines. Two bright koi fish that had been languishing in the few inches of brackish water near the bottom were now swimming happily in lazy arcs around the roots of the lacebark elm. I’d thought anything living in the pond that my former partner created had perished years ago, but apparently not. Two shiny carp, like the dual fish symbol in Pisces, and not the first time I’ve dreamt of these magical totems. I wonder for a moment if maybe I should try to scoop them up and return them back into the pond, but then realize that they’d just swim right out again. So I start planting some seeds that I find instead, for little pale blue flowers called baby blue eyes. I find a buffalo skull washed up from under the porch and decide to hang it up. The flood hasn’t ruined or destroyed anything the way it used to in my dreams. The floods used to erupt suddenly, sweeping my rickety wood cabin down the river. It used to be enormous tidal waves I ran from, huge moving walls of emotion that threatened to engulf me, drown me, suck me under. They would sometimes crash over me when I could no longer out-run them, but I’d survive it somehow. Coming to, bobbing in the water, eyes salt-blind, grasping for the waterlogged leather handles of old suitcases stuffed with soggy family photos, old love letters with their carefully inked words of longing rinsed away, just blank wet paper now. Not much is salvageable, disintegrating cardboard boxes containing important documents, histories, memories, secrets. All gone. I would have these dreams often, before Katrina hit, even. But now maybe something has finally shifted again. My world can flood a little, and it isn’t a total disaster. The storm can come, but it doesn’t keep me cowering at home anymore. The overwhelming feelings rise up and can now be felt, and completely processed. The good things are made free again. What was neglected can now be restored with love. New seeds filled with potential appear to be planted. The old bones of what has passed can be reclaimed and honored.
☾ Dream Reliquary is a project by artist Caledonia Curry, also known as Swoon. It is a space for people who wish to participate in the creation of a sculpture containing a large repository of dreams transcribed from people all over the world.
☾ Many wonders are being revealed in the depths, including an adorable new species of octopus: Casper, the Friendly Deep Sea Octopus Who’s Entirely New to Science
☾ The Nuit Report March 4-10. Solar Eclipse in Pisces. There are so many fantastic astrologers out there right now, sharing their wisdom and expertise with us so generously. I have found that checking in with a gifted guide to the cosmos on a regular basis has helped me understand my own shifts and transitions so much more. Aepril Schaile has become a mainstay in that practice for me, and someone I feel thrilled to know in this life. I love her grounded and wise way of communicating, and the way she imparts even challenging or heavy concepts with grace, compassion and humor. Check her out: