the weather inside me

we're still in the eclipse zone

Left: eclipse crescent, from China.
Below: eclipse over Afghanistan.

Here's the NASA site for the solar eclipse. Expect a slow download; this site is ultra-busy right now.

For more pictures, link here.

July 22nd solar eclipse: a whole new you (who knew?)

I've been traveling, so I haven't had much time to break for a blog post. However, I feel I ought to offer you all something for the upcoming New Moon/Solar Eclipse on the 21st/22nd.

Below is the subscription article from Eric Francis' Planet Waves Astrology News. He generously allows his subscribers to share his articles once in a while to non-subscribers, and I believe this is absolutely one of those events that requires I pass my voice off to Eric and just live the event rather than talk about it.

Enjoy.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Friend and Reader:

I was talking to a Leo reader recently who said she didn't grasp her July horoscope. This, after years of it fitting perfectly for her, as she described her experience. Because the July horoscope was an interpretation of the total solar eclipse happening on Tuesday, I was curious and took yet another look at this eclipse, this time from the viewpoint of Leo, very close to where the eclipse occurs.

Photo by Eric Francis for Book of Blue.

I've said a few times, to friends and in writing, that this is one of the most challenging eclipses I've ever worked with, that is, the interpretation of it. I would estimate that I've covered about 70 eclipses in my career, and this one stands out. A few weeks ago, I was corresponding with my collaborator Tracy at Serennu.com and she handed me one of her one-line gems when I asked her take on what it was about. She said, "It looks like mother is not available and father hasn't shown up yet."

The eclipse takes place in the last degree of the sign Cancer. That implies that it's 'between Cancer and Leo', in as much as there is any space between signs; it's at the edge of one concept and at the beginning of another. When you interpret this around the signs, it represents a transition from one phase of life to another; the eclipse falls on the cusp of two solar houses for all of us.

Cancer and Leo are signs in a special category in that neither is ruled by a planet. Both are associated with luminaries -- the Moon and the Sun, respectively. Ancient astrology gives them a variety of other distinctions, but they are in a sense the 'master signs', in that everyone is so affected by the bodies associated with them. And when an eclipse arrives, no matter where it is, these two signs are involved because the Moon and Sun are involved.

For their part (in mundane and psychological astrology) the Moon and the Sun represent mother and father, as well as the two dominant features of the person. The Moon corresponds to mother, the child-self, the personality, and one's sense of needs and comfort. The Sun corresponds to father, adult self, the experience expressing the personality, and one's sense of visible presence and glory. In a world chart like an eclipse, however, separated from the trappings of any one personality, the Sun and Moon can look a lot like mom and dad, and in this chart they do. We need to remember that in many biological and physical senses, we are made of mom and dad. So it follows that the luminaries will represent both facets of our parents and facets of ourselves. There is a very close correspondence in real life.

As we proceed with this analysis, remember that all the usual concepts that surround eclipses are applicable: discontinuty, concentration of experience, the feeling of fate and the establishment of patterns. Eclipses arrive with events that affect many people. And while they are apparently fixed points in time, they are more like standing patterns in space-time that can be felt for many months or even years. We are currently deep into the process of Tuesday's eclipse, particularly given that it's surrounded by lunar eclipses before and after. We are approaching the midpoint of three eclipses, the peak event and by far (using astrological precedent) the most potent event.

the mars in leo preview: six months of glow-y ol' you!

Mercury is this morning in the last degrees of Cancer and by tomorrow will move into the sign of Leo. This is so important, folks.

But first, a word or two about ol' pussy cat Leo.

The energy of Leo, at its best, shines an aura of unforgettably wonderful love and creative ju-ju. A good Leo is generous and noble and kind, the sort of the person who lets you feel as if you've just been kissed by blue skies and summer morning sunshine. The sort of person who doesn't keep accounts because how could anyone ever measure themselves against the true strength of the Sun? Keeping accounts is just too small for Leo, and a good Leo knows this.

Bad Leos, unfortunately, take all that sunshine upon themselves and there's no end to their need to hog the spotlight, conversation, or project. It's all about them, them, them. Instead of live-giving warmth, they feel like a bad sunburn after boring picnic.

I say all this because we will be thinking Leonic thoughts very soon! What kind of Leo in your brain do you want to be, then? Wise, noble, generous, creative, life-giving, heart-enlarging, playful Leo? Or diva, self-absorbed and upstaging Leo?

And why are all these thoughts important? Because in mid-October Mars will move into the sign of Leo and stay there for about SIX months. That's a heck of a looooong time for one of the inner "personal" planets, folks! Usually, we see them pass through a sign with the period of a month or so. The duration of this visit is in part due to the retrograde motion Mars will take up the week of Christmas. This retrograde will continue until March, when Mars will finally turn direct and finish its path through the last degrees of Leo.

So whatever part of you life gives way to Leo's themes will get a MAJOR workout all fall and winter, nay even unto early spring.

Mercury brings us thoughts; Mars puts those thoughts into action. Mercury will arrive in Leo July 18th; Mars will arrive in Leo October 16th. Consider this now: What thoughts do you want to spend six months doing something about? Because by October you'll be putting thoughts into real action.

Here's an example: say the theme of Leo rules your work life, so in your everyday work you really need a chance to "perform" in some creative capacity. When I say creative, I don't necessarily mean paintbrushes and canvases. Creativity is fundamentally an act of self declaration: "Joe Schmoe was here!" And that creativity could equally apply to starting a new business or having a baby. See what I'm saying here? You create something. You put yourself out there. You get something new, something that hasn't popped out of your fabulous head and hands yet --into the world.

This is just one example. There are loads more I could offer, but what's most important is that you think with your heart right now, wherever it leads you to be more generous, gracious, life-affirming, creative, playful, sexy and fun.

Now is the time to be ruminating, discussing, debating, playing around with your personal form of creativity and heart-fire in words. By fall, those thoughts will jump into ACTION.

So, you know: think about it.

Photo credit: Robert Miller.

an invitation to frequently ask questions

I’ve been contemplating a series of entries,  a sort of Frequently Asked Questions theme centered on my personal whys and hows of astrology. Strictly personal, nothing handed down from God, or Robert Hand (who's a close second), for that matter.

I think this is important; at some point everyone plying a trade or pursuing an interest/study has to defend why they’re committed all this ________ (whatever) on us: artists have to make a statement about their work, teachers have to declare a philosophy of education, ministers and priest have to commit to a creed. My (whatever) for the moment is astrology. Somehow I need to think about what I’m thinking about --and question what I'm thinking about.

Again, my goal is personal: I want to explore my own ideas and I want to articulate them. As potentially damaging as it could be to think aloud on this site (and find my developing thoughts googled into the ether), I do feel this thinking aloud process is the most human presentation I can make for astrology.

If you have questions about astrology --how or why it does/does not work-- feel free to email me them. I may not be able to answer them all but I do want to know what puzzles you about the craft.

Thus far I’m imagining these topics, which are the typical comments I hear:

If you’re an astrologer, what/who do you worship?
Do you know how to get rich/when you will die?
Why do astrologers always hype things to be such a big, damned deal?
Why didn’t I get a date like my horoscope said I would?
How can 1/12th of the human race all be alike?
Are we all just programmed? Or do we still have choices?
Can you tell by my chart that I slept with my cousin when we were 15?
Er...and what do you do with the information in my chart?

You're perfectly welcome to send me one of your own questions!

Photo Credit: Vantiani, etsy.

the eclipse effect debate

There's a lot of debate about how eclipses function in our lives, both on a symbolic and functional level. Most astrologers see them as moments when something leaves our lives so that another thing can take its place. This is an extension of what ancient people believed about eclipses, except the modern astrologer usually has a emotional/psychological spin on that tale. The ancients, on the other hand, expected the literal deaths (or births) of kings.

Sometimes, though, it seems as if we moderns haven't forgotten the old folk wisdom of our ancestors. A little knowledge about eclipses, and suddenly we're expecting the worst.

Ahem. So.

Another debate centers around the importance of eclipses on individual lives: some astrologers give credit to everyone, saying we should see the effects of an eclipse in whatever part of our lives the eclipse sign functions. For instance, if 15 degrees Capricorn lies in the area of your chart that rules your career, expect (with a lunar eclipse) something significant to shift in the emotional (lunar/moon) tenor of your relationship to your workplace/career. Other astrologers say this interpretation is far too generous: look for exact degree conjunctions or hard angles for any effect in the individual's life.

I imagine both are right. If you are a particularly introspective and aware person you could probably track the history of eclipses in your personal development --and the first interpretation would hold true. However, most of us only recognize the larger (read: painful/momentous) shifts in our lives, which we would most likely feel if an eclipse hit a prominent planet or angle in our natal or progressed charts.

For the record, here's the general interpretive rule-of-thumb about lunar and solar eclipses, however and wherever they happen in your life:

Lunar eclipses help us shift our emotional/intuitive development. This is the inner life. Solar eclipses change how we (and others) perceive our identities. This is the outer image or role. Solar eclipse shifts are must more recognizable because we usually want to identify and relate to a new image or persona. Or, alternately, we feel as if some beloved bit of our ego structure is forcibly ripped from our hands. What's important here, says the astrologer, is the timing of the eclipse: if it's going, it needs to go.

Keep this in mind as we move through this eclipse season. Again, here are the dates:

June 22: New Moon 1+ degree Cancer opposed Pluto at 2+ degrees Capricorn
July 7th: Full Moon/lunar eclipse at 15+ degrees Capricorn
July 22: New Moon AND Total Solar Eclipse at 29+ degrees Cancer  ...and finally

August 6th: Full Moon/Prenumbral eclipse at 13+ degrees Aquarius

Photo credit: boofer pea creek.

july 7th lunar eclipse and full moon: ditching the emotional dead weight

The lunar eclipse tomorrow happens at 15+ degrees Capricorn. NASA says it'll be pretty weak, but it is an eclipse nonetheless and it's got that full moon punch: whatever feelings you've been nurturing since the new moon can come into full view this week. And then there's the end of something/beginning of another theme that also accompanies an eclipse.

Instead of attempting my own interpretive/astrological take on this eclipse, I decided to ask the wise ol' I Ching about the matter. If you're not familiar with it, I suggest Hilary Barrett's brilliant site, Clarity, for just about all you need to know about using the 'Ching (see side link as well).

Anyway. Here's the 'Ching's take on the theme of this lunar eclipse at 15+ degrees Capricorn:

Hexagram 46, changing line 3 --to Hexagram 7.

‘Pushing upward, creating success from the source.
Make use of seeing great people.
No doubts.
Set forth to the south, good fortune.’

Encourages vigorous activity in a spirit of optimism.

The ascent is powered by natural tension: come from the source (spiritual energy, inspiration), don’t merely ‘see’ great people but ‘make use of seeing them’. To inspire you with what’s possible? Get information and help on how to move on upward? Definitely action as well as vision.

‘No doubts.’ You’re at the bottom of the mountain, gazing up, and you’re expected to start out trusting you can make it all the way up. You need an oracle to tell you not to doubt/fear.

‘Set forth to the south’ – realm of warmth, light, summer, activity. Work hard and rewards come.

Line 3 (and commentary):

‘Pushing upward in the empty city.’

...this used to be the centre of everything, full of life, and now it stands empty. Often refers to something that doesn’t offer any particular problem, no resistance, but also contains nothing to help you and offers no living connection. The idea is to travel on through, not linger here waiting for the echoes to talk to you.

Relating Hexagram:

46 zhi Hexagram 7. Use the army’s powers of focus; bear in mind (fan yao 7.3) that carrying the corpse of what used to be alive only weighs you down.

I'll let you interpret that as you may. You're smart folks.

And if that doesn't satisfy, I can recommend any of the forecasters linked in the side bar for additional lunar eclipse ponderings.

Or you can amuse yourself with this well-worn scene:

Photo credit: confidencecomely.

mercury in cancer now: pick berries, not scabs.

From Mystic Medusa:

Mercury zipped from Gemini skies to Cancerian waters over the weekend. It’s an UP for emotional awareness and goobly deep dialogue but can also manifest as peeps contacting one merely to grizzle. And, most draining of all, when it becomes clear that they don’t want any helpful suggestions, perspective or to have their Qi raised. July 14 is when Mercury – messenger of the Gods – meets up with the Sun again & in astro-tradition, things lost during the last Mercury-Retrograde (most of May) shall now be found, mysteries solved and resolutions reached.

Oh god, how I know what she's talking about. The grizzling bit. You know, the eternal IV drip of emotional wallowing that no amount of practical or sympathetic response can cut off. I worked with a woman like this (and I'm sure you have too). She loved to recount her surgery adventures with all the relish of a 74 year old retiree with nothing on his mind but his Irritable Bowel Syndrome. She also knew every great pizza joint from here to Lake Michigan. And yeah, she was a sun sign Cancer.

Mercury in Cancer should be all about deep emotional nurturing and helping folks in practical ways, like brewing a cup of tea when you're down. It's also preserving traditions and honoring Grandma's old cookbook and the flag your uncle brought home from Korea --or Iraq. Food and family, that's Cancer.

So here in America, you can see how easily we fall into a sort of group sentimentality around the 4th. Hot dogs and apple pie is the symbol, even if you don't eat the stuff. Someone would get pissed and start a lawsuit if we didn't trot out those gems each year. Family (especially mother) traditions are de rigueur in the Cancer themes of our lives. But in reality our individual definition of family varies: could be your three closest friends, could be a whole nation.

The worst of Cancer's image is the emotional mafioso who calmly explains why you're in "the family" (whatever family it is) for life --or else. With a July 4th "birthday" America has a whole lotta hang-ups about it's mother --and moms in general.

"Protect and Serve" is my favorite Cancer motto. The badge is the image, not apple pie. And not mafioso, just doing the right thing. It works either way: the badge is the shell behind which every Cancer ultimately retreats at some point, but if the Cancer persona is healthy enough, the badge/shell is mostly a calling card -- "I'm dutiful on the outside, but a softie where it counts. And you can count on me."

This Sarah Connor pic sort of does the Cancer trick, eh?

Anyway. Until your thought life crawls into the sign of Leo on July 17/18th, watch the emo-grizzle and instead indulge in some low-carb (not low-crab) emotional nurturing. Think berry picking and poetry. Or give your kiddos an extra cuddle, or make them something to cuddle. Or just cuddle. (Just remember to let your loved one up from the couch when they're done.) You Crabs know what I mean.

BTW: I know some folks who swear by Bach Flower Remedies when their emotions seems to get the best of them. Emotional eating can really plague folks with Mercury in Cancer. Bach has a whole line of homeopathic tinctures which you drip into a little water and then drink. If you're plagued with emotional eating, you might want to look for this kit at your local health food store.

wish moon soon

Write your wishes on the door and come in.
Stand outside in the pools of the harvest moon.
--Carl Sandberg, poet

Blessing. Like sweet summer fruit laden on the tree, this moment is ripe and ready for the eating.

Longing, compassion and synthesis --the blending of self and eternity. The contrast of self against the backdrop of eternity. The complicity of an unending thread of DNA leading to your back door where the work of a dozen generations have left basketloads of uneaten harvests.

This a month for wishes; this is the turning point of the year.

Wishes can be scary things: they embody our deepest fears, even when we think we’re envisioning our highest hopes. There is a duality in wishes that deserve our respect. We deny them as much as we believe in them.

Wishes can also be inherited things. We think they’re ours, but they’re not. Inspect a few and you find that many of your wishes are like baskets of overripe zucchini left on your back porch by a weary parent or grandparent with an over-abundance of desire and need, and nowhere to make use of them.

Out of duty or compassion we take in the zucchini wishes and preserve them for hard times. We’re not much for canning, but maybe these wishes of grandma can get us through hard times, we think. Or maybe we can just can ‘em and forget ‘em. The basement is dark enough for forgetfulness. Some of us have enough old wishes set up in our cellars to last us through the three nuclear holocausts.

That said, I suppose it’s also a good time to remember the old saw: if wishes were fishes we’d all be well fed. Which means a wish is only a ghost --the ephemeral glow of a full harvest moon or a dying moment-- if we don’t dive into the moment and come up with something alive in our needy hands. Alive, not left over, unwanted, pickled and preserved. Wishes don't have to be scary and burdensome.

Do you feel alive? Or left-over, unwanted, pickled and preserved?

Do you feel the moment building? I do. It scares the hell out of me, but I do.

It's the scrape of hard fiberglass board beneath your feet and your toes edging over, nervously playing with the thin hot summer air. You are nine miles high in the sky and your best friend waves at you, feebly, like an ant in the far distance. You cannot hear her but you can hear your heart. Everyone can hear your heart.

Behind you someone shouts, “Just do it!” Then a shrill shriek from somewhere. You?

You dive. Your is brain falling faster than your stomach, which is still six miles behind you unable --and unwilling-- to catch up. Your brain is shrieking something in Kazakh; you don’t even want to know-- You clutch your head. A concrete wall rushes up to you and you slam into it like a sledgehammer as your stomach lands right on your disappearing ass.

You broke through.

You are still you. You are wet and quivering, but whole. And you are the something alive in your own needy hands.

You are the wish.

Write yourself on your door. Come, stand out in the moon.

(Keep this in your pocket, sweets.)

Photo credits: (first) Laurent Lavender; (second) Mark Surman.