“I’m not here to say please. I’m here to tell you what to do.”
~ Mr. Wolf (Harvey Keitel), Pulp Fiction
Jules and Vincent, professional hitmen, have a mess on their hands. They’ve accidentally shot someone in the backseat of Jules’ car, and they need to get rid of the evidence fast. They retreat to the nearby suburban home of their friend Jimmy, who anticipates the imminent arrival of his volatile wife, Bonnie. With the clock ticking, Jules contacts his boss, who immediately dispatches Mr. Winston Wolf to the scene to manage the situation.
Poised and impeccable in a suit and tie despite the early hour, Mr. Wolf assesses the situation and quickly lays out a course of action: get some towels, clean the car, camouflage the gore with quilts. “Boys, get to work,” he finishes.
“A ‘please’ would be nice,” protests Vincent. Mr. Wolf’s smooth, professional façade turns sharp and bristly. “I’m not here to say please,” he retorts. “I’m here to tell you what to do. If self-preservation is an instinct you possess, you better f—ing do it, and do it quick.”
Mr. Wolf could only be a Capricorn. Smooth, civilized, professional – but just beneath the genteel surface is someone even a hitman wouldn’t want to mess with. After all, Mars, the planet of war and knife-play, is exalted in this sign. In restrained, tactical Capricorn, the savage Mars warrior becomes a general, and the butcher, a surgeon.
Capricorn’s genius is his ability to size up a situation quickly, formulate a practical, effective response, and deliver orders that others instinctively obey. Capricorn is the most refined of the cardinal signs, combining the quickness of Aries with Cancer’s intuition and Libra’s veneer of civility. Above all, Capricorn is resourceful; its symbol, the goat, will eat anything to stay alive. When failure is not an option – and for Capricorn, it never is – you will do whatever is needed, however unpleasant, to get the job done.
The Full Moon is the time each month when you stand at the mountain’s summit, with a panoramic view of all the roads below – the one that led you to this point, the ones you didn’t take, and all the paths available for your return to the lowlands. When you embarked on this journey at the Cancer New Moon, you asked, “What do I wish to bring forth, what is it I care about, what is the shape of my soul?” At the Full Moon in Capricorn, the question has become, “What will I need to midwife the birth, and to make sure everyone gets out all right?”
Here’s a scenario you’ll recognize from countless movies and TV shows. A pregnant woman goes into labor at an inconvenient moment, and the most ill-prepared, unlikely character is charged with delivering her baby. He panics, protesting that he doesn’t know what to do. Then, as the expectant mother begins to wail in fear and pain, he pulls himself together. Calmly, he summons the wisdom encoded in his DNA (or perhaps born of decades of television viewing) and starts barking orders to bystanders: “Boil water! Tear up those sheets!” Then, however clumsily, he steels himself and figures out how to pull an infant from its mother’s loins.
Capricorn is that kind of guy: the one you’d want by your side if you went into labor while stuck in a traffic jam, or in a stalled elevator, or with Sherman’s army descending on your town with lighted torches. He might not do it with a lot of skill or tenderness – he might, like Mr. Wolf, deliver his orders a bit curtly – but he’ll figure out how to get that baby out of there.
With the Sun moving through Cancer, you’ve been expecting a blessed event; and before you know it, the Sun will move into Leo, and you’ll have a baby on your hands. This Full Moon in Capricorn is the transitional moment of this cycle, of the pregnancy, of the year. It brings a direct response to the call of your New Year’s resolutions, set forth near the Capricorn New Moon. Everything you’ve been waiting for can be yours, but first comes the difficult, scary part - the part where you deliver the baby with your bare hands and cut the umbilical cord with your pocket knife.
So pull yourself together, and take a look around. Begin to gather what you think you might need – scissors, clean sheets, boiling water. Something is coming, and others will be looking to you for leadership. You mustn’t show fear, and there’s no time to be polite. You’re the midwife, the general, and Mr. Wolf, all rolled up in one formidable package. At this Full Moon in Capricorn, you’re not here to say “please.” You’re here to tell people what to do.
© 2011 April Elliott Kent. All right reserved
Capricorn is sexy as hell.
Thanks for the cool post, April.
Thanks, Neeti.
And I’m with you – Capricorn = hot. Especially Mr. Wolf!
This describes me to a tee!! I’m a Capricorn Sun, Virgo rising. We’re currently moving house and hubby is panicking that we aren’t going to be ready in time for the movers next weekend. I sat him down last night and said stop stressing, I have this all in hand. I’ve written up a plan, have a to do list and I will tell you what to do when it needs doing. I don’t think I used Harvey Keitel’s exact phrase but certainly something like it! Thanks for a great read, it certainly made me laugh as it was like looking in a mirror! LOL!
Love that, Natalie.
Best of luck with your move!
Another fabulous post! Thank you…
Thank you, Allison!
Bravo, April!! Right on. Capricorn, tough as nails. Mr. Wolf means business so let’s get on with it. Have not experienced the dog days for summer….I am in need of creating them.
Thanks, Tanene. I really love both Capricorn and Aries – they’re signs with a hint of brutishness about them, and for some reason that appeals to me!
Wow! April, you really got to me! I have a Capricorn Moon and Ascendant. I am also a direct descendant of General Sherman! The feeling of something coming up around some unsuspecting corner coupled with the urge to take some kind of action or responsibility is strong. Today will be practical. Going to make lists and cross completed tasks off with heavy black marker! Ha! Thanks, April. I feel energized!
I hate to admit this, Jan – and my southern friends, please forgive me; I hail from below the Mason-Dixon line myself – but I have a sort of guilty historical crush on Sherman. (I have a weakness for redheads.) Enjoy your list making!
Love your Mr Wolf example – born of decades of watching movies?!
I’ve got Mars cj NN in Cap just a few degrees beyond Pluto – so far! – and your little story has given me some much appreciated confidence in my survival skills. Thanks, April.
Oh Sabina, lucky you. Having a Mars in Capricorn is like having a swiss army knife in your chart – so useful! And yes, I’ve watched far too many movies in my day, and way too much television as well. I’m currently obsessed with the very violent tv series “Breaking Bad,” which I’m sure it will find its way into my writing some day soon.
April,
Thank you for your intriguing writing style. It conjures up all kinds of visual images and emotions as I read your essays to learn more about astrology. You are an amusing and inspiring teacher.
Chante
But I tell people what to do all the time. Oh, wait — 10th house Leo Sun/Mercury/Venus/Joop. I’m a Leo in Capricorn drag!
Maria, I’ve always thought that Leo and Capricorn have a lot in common. With the Sun in Leo and Saturn in Capricorn, I’m just this side of Napoleon myself!
I also am a Cap and I certainly know how to get things done. Caps Rock….
They do indeed, Jane.
marty
Wow! This Full Moon @ 22º Cap is exactly on my Natal Sun! The entire scenario you painted fits me like a beautifull soft leather glove! Kudos —
Excellent to hear, Marty, and thank you for that.
April! i have to thank you for this enlightening article..i took pointers from it and used them at work to kick ass and get the job done NOW! no excuses, no prisoners, no NO’s!
It worked- having a Cappy attitude at work really shifted this brutal week for me
thank you thank you thank you (lowering of hands and bowing) thank you.
You’re a godsend!
Glad to hear it, Helen. Hey, a Capricorn/Saturn attitude always helps when the going gets tough! Good for you!