Moving Day
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Moving Day
I‘ve lived in the same house now for 23 years. One of the great advantages of staying in one place for so long is that you’re not filling cardboard cartons and packing moving trucks every couple of years. How I always hated the last couple of days in a rental place, feverishly corralling bits and pieces that were trivial enough to have escaped the other packing boxes but that you can’t quite part with; then sweeping and mopping and spackling holes in the walls before turning around to reverse the process in your new home.
Let’s say the Scorpio New Moon on Nov. 14 was like making the decision to initiate a big, profound change, such as moving to a new home. At the First Quarter (Nov. 21) the search for a new place; at the Full Moon (Nov. 30), a choice was made and we signed a lease or entered escrow; and now, at the Last Quarter Moon, the time has come to make the move. The flush of excitement and novelty is wearing off, giving way to the Virgo Last Quarter Moon (Dec. 7, 2020, 4:37 pm PST) and its endless logistical details – arranging utilities and services, renting the truck, finding boxes, packing, unpacking, and cleaning up.
If you’re feeling bone tired lately, it’s probably because big changes are tiring, physically and emotionally. This Last Quarter triggers the June 5, 2020 Lunar Eclipse point at 15.34 Sagittarius, bringing a resolution based on insights uncovered at that time. And it’s the last critical point in a lunar phase family that began on Sep. 9, 2018 (and reached its Full Moon revelation point on March 9, 2020).
A lot has happened in the past year and a half, and it’s not surprising that we might feel tired as we push toward the home stretch. Scorpionic transitions are exhausting, and Virgo is the sign that handles the unsexy minutiae behind the scenes. After all, even life’s final and most profound “move” requires that someone choose a box or an urn, a final resting place, a hymn to sing, and a deli lunch for mourners.
The Story
There’s a bonfire burning on the beach, and you’re sitting around it with a small group of fellow travelers and campers. Everyone is far from home; in some cases, you don’t share a common language. You take turns introducing yourselves, and when it’s your turn, you begin to recite the usual details – your name, your job, the place you call home.
Instead, you find yourself telling a different story. One about sitting around a similar fire with your family, back when you were too young to have much of a biography. How you and your sister got up and entertained the adults with a silly song, and your older brother made shadow puppets against the background of the tent. How mom and dad leaned into one another and laughed; how you all toasted marshmallows. Around your present day campfire, this odd collection of strangers relax and smile, perhaps remembering childhood camping trips of their own.
It’s often harder to tell the story of who we are now, than it is to remember where it all began. Maybe it’s because we’ve told the old stories for so long that we know them by heart, have learned how to pause at the right moments for effect. Or maybe it’s because who we are is always shifting, and the ongoing story needs time to find its structure. As the Sun (Dec. 9, 2020, 11:41 am PST) and Mercury (Dec. 13, 2020, 3:38 am PST) make squares to imaginative Neptune this week, there’s an opening to become someone a little bit different, and to tell a new story around the campfire.
Cutting through ice
Mof us are descended from travelers. Our stories began on distant soil, where our forebears fought ancient battles. Theirs are some of the stories we carry with us, mostly without even realizing it. But these stories continue to have an impact on where we live and what we believe.
As we sit around the campfire, the Sun’s conjunction with the South Node – the past we’re meant to break with – invites us to toss our old stories into the flames. By disconnecting from these ancestral narratives, we free ourselves to actually do what our ancestors did – take off in boats and covered wagons in search of new possibilities and exciting challenges. This is the influence of the Sun’s twice-annual trine to Mars (Dec. 10, 2020, 10:02 pm PST), which is still strong in its own sign of independent Aries.
The Sabian symbol for the Sun and the South Node is 20 Sagittarius, Men cutting through ice. We might cut through ice to catch fish in the winter; cut through ice to create beautiful ice sculptures; or even cut through ice with metal skates, sailing across frozen winter lakes. Mars points us to A young girl feeding birds in winter. These symbols evoke survival (and kind generosity) in harsh seasons.
The Sun and Mars, passionate planets in fiery signs, overcome the Sun’s square to Neptune earlier in the day with passion and enthusiasm. And three days later, a Solar Eclipse with the Sun still close to the Moon’s South Node encourages more letting go. As we skate to the end of this long, lonely, frightening, and exhausting year, that eclipse’s Sabian symbol is A bluebird standing at the door of the house. Happiness awaits. It asks only that we make room for it.
Writing and collages © 2020 April Elliott Kent
Jen and I explore all the week’s highlights in our latest podcast episode,
Ep. 59 | A Volcanic Last Quarter Moon, and Mercury Runs Amok
