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A MoonShadow of My Former Self

In the past couple of days, I’ve become preoccupied with two things: snacks, and Airstream trailers. The former is a textbook response to a looming Solar Eclipse (tonight at 7:35 pm PDT) in the food-loving sign of Cancer. And as for the Airstream… well, they’re so darned cute, cozy, and self-contained. Shiny, portable shelter – these little land dinghies have always made me think of a crab’s shell.

If the sign of Cancer teaches us anything, it’s that there are moments when it’s best to crawl into your shell for a while and close the door behind you. I’ve been feeling that way since the lunar eclipse, and until the last couple of days I haven’t had the luxury of taking some time out.  Consequently I’m feeling tired and oversensitive (not to mention bloated, from all the snacking). Plus, the avalanche of New Moon/Solar Eclipse messages in my inbox is making me feel anxious, because OMG, I didn’t write anything for the New Moon, and it’s an eclipse (to end all eclipses), and I’m supposed to be kind of an eclipse gal. My career is over! (Cue swirly falling graphic and dramatic music a la Jimmy Stewart’s terrifying plunge in Vertigo…)

It’s the same feeling I get if I spend too much time on Facebook, reading blow-by-blow accounts of all the fabulous writing and readings and everything else that my colleagues are doing. I find myself anxiously comparing my output to theirs (or at least, my perception of theirs), which I realize is sort of crazy because I’m just one person, and it’s not as though it’s one person doing all those things, it’s an entire Facebook friends list. Nevertheless, the honest truth is that while part of me is intrigued and inspired to hear what other folks are up to, an increasingly shrill part of myself is covering its eyes and ears and screaming to be left alone.

So until the Leo New Moon I’ll be giving myself a summer vacation in the fetching vintage Airstream in my mind.  Internet service there is unreliable, so I’ll be severely limiting my visits to Facebook, astrology blogs or websites, and my email inbox.

My heart is trying to make itself heard. I get the feeling I’ve come to the end of a long road… and now I’m going to trek across a lonely, quiet field for a little, carrying my little Airstream shell behind me, until I find where the new road begins.

Well. I guess I wrote something about the New Moon in Cancer after all.

How are you doing? Where’s the eclipse (29 Cancer) falling your birthchart?

9 comments to " A MoonShadow of My Former Self "

  • Oh jeez… I guess I better not show you this: Food IN an airstream trailer! (Really good food, I might add.)

    An Internet vacation never hurt anybody, I don’t think. There is a lot of nonsense to sift through, but the truth is that most of it is not better than what you are writing. Most of it is about oatmeal, and going to the beach. Although with all your Gemini, I prematurely feel your withdrawal pain.

    29 Cancer is actually my 3rd House cusp, which could mean one of two things: 1) I will have to be on the Internet MORE THAN EVER, or 2) stop talking. Stop talking? NEVER!!!!!

  • I am so there. So very, very there.

    And of course there is the airstream trailer that has food sticking out of the top of it.

    And of course, now I want oatmeal…

  • I’m glad someone is blogging about over-snacking. My Venus is in the early degrees of Cancer, and lately I’ve noticed now much I’ve been eating…I’m becoming a stuffed crab!

    Yesterday’s eclipse fell within a degree of my natal Moon, and I’m looking at what seems like Round 2 of my parents’ strange divorce. I may have to get an Airstream also!

    Hope your vacation from the Internet goes well…most people I know (myself included) could definitely use one!

  • Eclipse: came and went with a whimper, even though it’s in my 9th. Some friends not so lucky and plagued with bad house news. Oh…well…there was the offer I made on yet another goddamned condo. This one I had to write a letter to the owner explaining why I wanted the condo, so I wrote a very silly letter from the POV of their adorable cat who took a shine to me during the walk through. Hee!

  • Eclipse was in my 12th house. Dreamed dreams about my family of origin. In one, I had short notice to go pack up stuff from my parents house because they were moving or else they’d just throw it all out. It was too much to do in such a short time span and I was sobbing in my sleep at the prospect of it. No idea what that all means! But eclipse in Cancer in the 12th sure fits.

  • The eclipse landed on my bf’s Mars square his Sun. He got trapped in his building’s elevator and had to kick his way out!

  • leslee – what a great story! Well, not great for him – but you know what I mean. He was luckier than TV pitchman Billy Mays, who died just before an eclipse triggered the same natal aspect. And what an intriguing dream about your family; sure does fit the Cancer symbolism – family, wanting to hold on, even crying.

    Maria – I can’t believe the difficulty you’re having in finding and buying a house! I would have thought in this alleged “buyer’s market” that you could have bought two or three by now. Why are all these sellers so… deranged?

    Best Fiction – It’s really nice to see you, you’re been gone too long. I’m really sorry about your parents; certainly fits the symbolism of tr. Pluto opposing your Venus, doesn’t it? I’m having the same aspect and when I saw it coming, I was afraid for my marriage; instead, we’re getting along better than ever and I’m thinking about painting the living room pink. Go figure.

  • Painting the living room pink might actually be GOOD for your marriage, now that everybody’s on this huge feng shui kick. But from my observation, I’ve always noticed that the happiest marriages take place in houses where it doesn’t look like one of the partners doesn’t even live there. Case in point: a thirty-two-year-old married woman does not need fifty stuffed animals on the master bed and every room to be painted pink or purple. They got divorced. Or: a man in his fifties, no matter how immature and d-baggish he might actually be, will get ornery if he has to constantly push frilly kitchen witches and embroidered pillows out of his way. They too got divorced.

    My parents’ bedroom is a very, very, very dark berry pink with sponged reddish tones in it and dark oak and cherry wood pieces. They are both Tauruses, and they are NOT divorced.

  • Lucy – You’re so right. Ironically, I hated pink until tr. Pluto started opposing my natal Venus; now, I can’t get enough of it. (Plus, oh-so-flattering to the over-40 complexion.) Fortunately I’m married to a Libra with a Taurus Moon, and pink doesn’t scare him a bit. Ruffles, though… that would be a deal breaker. Thank God I hate them too.

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