I was born with the Moon in Gemini, and I’ve been a writer ever since I can remember. Growing up, whenever I needed to relax, to reconnect with myself, I’d write something. Usually it wasn’t anything profound. Sometimes, it was as simple as composing lists of things I wanted to do and be in life. But there was always something about the sheer act of writing that I found satisfying… the pen on the paper, the ink stains on my fingers.
Writing is a big part of my job now, and I write every day. But unlike other tasks that become easier with repetition, writing becomes more difficult for me the more I do it. It’s as though I was born with a fixed allotment of words and am in danger of using them up.
It’s not as though I’ve run out of things to say. Over the past year, transiting Jupiter’s year-long stint in Sagittarius, the sign of big ideas, awakened the wild, instinctual, Sagittarian side of my nature. But I’ve always found Sagittarius a much easier sign to experience than to describe. I sense Sagittarius when I look up at a cloud-filled sky, or across a limitless horizon, or into the wild ocean on a stormy day. I sense Sagittarius in the mammoth, silent elephants at my local zoo. And what I sense resists words, because it’s enormous. It contains the sky, and the horizon, and the depths of the ocean and the elephant’s timeless gaze, and all that I know of God. It’s like ten pounds of flour dumped into the wide end of a funnel… and all of that is much to be expressed, on the other end, through the tiny aperture of language.
This isn’t just a problem for writers, either; it’s a problem for anyone who has big dreams and visions that potentially benefit mankind, if only they can be set forth in some form that is easily understood.
I sense Sagittarius when I look up at a cloud-filled sky, or across a limitless horizon, or into the wild ocean on a stormy day. I sense Sagittarius in the mammoth, silent elephants at my local zoo. And what I sense resists words, because it’s enormous. It contains the sky, and the horizon, and the depths of the ocean and the elephant’s timeless gaze, and all that I know of God. It’s like ten pounds of flour dumped into the wide end of a funnel… and all of that is much to be expressed, on the other end, through the tiny aperture of language.
I count on the powerful reflections of Full Moon time to illuminate solutions to knotty problems – and I suppose the solution here is to remember that Gemini is a symbol not just of conversation but of communication, the exchange of concepts and ideas. When your Sagittarius dreams and ideals are just too big to fit into language, resourceful Gemini looks beyond words for alternative ways to communicate – through art, music, even touch.
All too often when meditating on Gemini, we forget that communication requires both a sender and a receiver. Some of the best listeners I know are Gemini folk, because they’re curious, and they honestly want to hear your story. Your words fuel their imaginations and help them understand the world. With this in mind, I realize that when I feel as though I’m running out of words it’s probably just that I’ve been “talking” – or writing – too much compared to how much I’m listening and taking in.
The next time you’re struggling to make yourself understood, maybe it’s time to stop and take a stab at understanding someone else for awhile. And celebrate the nonverbal forms of communication, too. If words fail you during this Full Moon in Gemini season, maybe it’s time to switch to another medium for telling your story. Design your own holiday greeting cards. Play music. Paint a mural. The only rule is that you must share your creation with someone else; otherwise, you may be creating, but you’re not really communicating.
The story of mankind is a sprawling, Jupiter-sized saga with a staggering cast of characters acting out a range of enormous concepts – life, death, ecstasy, meaning. It’s a story so large that it must be broken up, mini-series style, and told in bite-sized chunks. Your personal stories, reflecting your Sagittarian understanding of the world, are a vital installment in the story of mankind. We’re all participating in one huge, collective narrative, but each of us carries a different piece of the story. It’s important to document your portion of our common history. So during this Full Moon in Gemini, tell your part of the story in your own way – in words, pictures, or anything else you can use to widen the narrow end of the funnel.
© 2006-2024 by April Elliott Kent
Understand your part of the story…
