Work
has been slow this month, so I've been spending a lot of time puttering around
the house. Cleaning, organizing drawers and closets, and reconfiguring my office
has filled my days so completely that I wonder how I ever managed to fit work
into my schedule.
As the Sun moved in to Cancer at yesterday's
summer solstice,
and the Moon joined it for today's New Moon (12:35 pm PDT), they immediately
entered a challenging opposition aspect to Pluto. Pluto demands change
- not the dramatic, explosive change of Uranus, but a deep, thorough, and lasting
transformation. When you decide at this New Moon to spend quality time with your
house (and since Cancer rules the home, you probably will), it will be the unpleasant
tasks you feel compelled to tackle - the ones you've been putting off for months,
even years, because you just couldn't face them, because they're dirty, or exhausting,
or overwhelming. What will you let go of?
In recent
days I've taken on the distasteful chore of shredding old receipts and ancient
financial records. Since today's New Moon point (1.30 Cancer) conjoins
my natal 8th-house Venus (financial matters), this felt like something that could
pass for a ritual, to symbolically release the dead wood of the financial past.
Not unlike an archeological dig, it's tedious, dusty work that occasionally yields
surprising discoveries. Hey - cancelled checks from 1997! Look how much less our
electric bill was then! And one that stopped me in my tracks - one I wrote for
a celebratory gift I bought for my mother when she came home from the hospital,
when we thought she had survived the heart attack. I fingered that one for a moment
or two, wondering whether to keep it; finally fed it into the shredder, then called
it a day.
Over the weekend we took on the back patio, which
had become something of a repository for discarded, unloved, and transitional
possessions. We filled the back of our pickup truck with a broken headboard, a
dingy silk ficus tree, and assorted bits of wood and trash and whisked them away
to the dump in just a couple of satisfying hours. We've still got work to do out
there, but at least we can get in and out of the back door again, thus appeasing
the wrathful gods of feng shui.
Small victories, but
at least a couple of steps toward restoring order and sanity to our surroundings.
Back when we moved every year or two, we didn't accumulate so much extra junk.
But now that we've lived for nearly 13 years in the same house, we fight a losing
battle against paper, books, random computer parts, cat toys, tattered but comfortable
clothes, and the sundry nuts, bolts, power cords, batteries, buttons, and scraps
of notepaper that congregate at one end of the kitchen counter. We're not in the
same league as those tragic souls you occasionally see on some cable reality series,
the ones who've hoarded so much stuff that they literally can't walk from one
end of the house to the other. But we still have a lot more clutter than we'd
like.
Let's face it, though: the stuff isn't really the problem.
The stuff is a symptom of the problem that so many of us have with letting
go. It's a security issue - and no sign understands the need for security
better than Cancer. The more chaotic our external circumstances, the more driven
we are to try to control them, to use things as a bulwark against unexpected
deprivation or loss.
I'm a bit of an anxious traveler, and
when we traveled to New Zealand for several weeks last summer, I found myself
collecting things as we moved from place to place - not souvenirs or mementos,
but provisions. If we stayed in a hotel that gave us little bottles of shampoo,
I packed them away in case the next place we stayed in wasn't so well-equipped.
I saved packets of crackers, rolls, and a hunk of cheese in case of long, lonely
stretches of highway. Napkins, tiny maps, books of matches… I squirreled
them all away as a wedge against future need, hunger, or dull, lifeless hair.
And yes, a few sentimental treasures found their way into
my luggage too… a rock from my favorite beach, a picture of a funny handpainted
sign at a roadside produce stand. It's not unknown for me to become emotionally
involved with inanimate objects. My 1985 Toyota has been sitting in the driveway
for months patiently waiting for repairs that will cost far more than the car
is worth - but everytime I think of letting it go, I tear up and my heart hurts.
I
don't let go of things easily, that's the truth - and I don't let go of people,
or of love, or of hurts. As my oldest friend once said of me, "April has
a long memory" - and while I usually (eventually) forgive, I never, ever
forget a slight. I've always disliked this quality in myself; it's disappointingly
at odds with what I like to think of as my true nature. But as I get older I at
least understand it a bit better. In the crusty, protective Cancerian place
in our hearts, old hurts become part of the fortressthat we think will
keep us safe from further injury. I even find myself feeling a certain tender
appreciation for my spikey side, as you might for a protective older sister who
is willing to make your battles her own.
When you decide at
this New Moon to spend quality time with your heart (and with the Sun and Moon
opposed Pluto, you probably will)… it will be the unpleasant stockpile of
emotional refuse that you feel compelled to tackle. The old grudges, the ancient
hurts and embarrassments, the terrifying vulnerabilities that you've lived with
for years because you just couldn't face them, because they are heartbreaking,
demoralizing - or in some strange way, giving your life purpose. So what will
you let go of, this New Moon season? Whom should you forgive, and what are
the lessons you should choose never to forget?
It's time,
dear friend, to open up your heart and clean house.
