Last Quarter Moon in Aries: Fire in Water

There’s enough going on in July, astrologically speaking, that I’m here with another extra blog and podcast, this one for the Last Quarter Moon in Aries, which arrived in the early hours of July 6, this morning.

Today, we orient to where we are and where we’re headed.

The Last Quarter is the square between Sun and Moon that marks the halfway point between the Full Moon and the New. Our energies shift from sharing–getting whatever we realized and achieved at the Full Moon out into the world–to reflecting.

This is a wrapping-up time. Our energies shift inward. We sort out what to keep from what to let go.

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But the Moon is in Aries. This Moon is on fire, wanting to move, get stuff done, push a few buttons. She’s not interested in sitting still and thinking. Except, this Moon is ruled by Mars and Mars is retrograde, moving backwards, still stuck at the South Node.

Ahhhh, here we are right back with that frustrating Mars.

We do indeed have a chance to stop and think, even if what we’re thinking about is why and how our Mars isn’t working. Mars is the action planet. He prefers forward motion, preferably fast.

In my last Full Moon post, I talked about how Mars retrograde might show up. Now we’re in it and this Last Quarter Moon invites us to pause and consider what’s happened so far.

An example: It seems I’m being pushed to work on some of my creative approaches to procrastination. Maybe spider solitaire needn’t take up quite so much of my time. It’s possible I don’t have to read every news story Pocket recommends, no matter how enticing the title. And this highly contentious Mars energy makes it a great time to stop replying to other people’s Facebook posts. Completely.

I have already been presented with patterns from my past that could use some attention. So that’s happening too. I just think procrastination is a good fit for Mars retrograde.

The Sun is in the sign of Cancer, the Moon’s home place. He is activating the Grand Water Trine with an opposition to Pluto.

This is the pattern I talked about in the First Quarter Moon post, a mixture of energies that floats us out into some very deep waters.

The current version of the Grand Water Trine includes the Sun in Cancer, Neptune in Pisces, and Jupiter in Scorpio. Here we are awash in emotion, feeling all the feels.

Things become confusing, disorienting. We might feel fearful. We might feel blissful. We might decide to zone out.

The presence of Pluto opposite the Sun alerts us that getting lost is not the best choice.

Pluto in Capricorn is capable of stirring the pot and dredging up all kinds of goodies. He brings dreams in which we confront Shadow figures. He brings challenging people, events, memories, and visions.

In the face of the Shadow, we need to open our arms and embrace it. This is the time to dive into practices that support deep work: mediation, dreamwork, journeying, self compassion, and any and all healing modalities that keep us afloat.

I want to be clear. It is entirely possible for most of us to make it through these next weeks of intensity by avoiding, denying, and repressing stuff we prefer not to deal with. Things could get uncomfortable, but it will pass. We can binge watch whatever until it does.

If we do that, though, we miss an opportunity. A configuration like this is a gate. An opening. We’re invited to walk through and come out different.

The fiery Aries Moon beckons us forward. She lights up all that water.

Let me tell you a story.

Once there was a powerful sorceress who had a very ugly and sadly stupid son. Concerned for how her boy would get along in this harsh world, she decided to make him beautiful as well as wise.

She brewed up intense and amazing magics in a big cauldron. This potion, once it was ready, would give him all knowledge. The first three drops would offer immediate insight into all things and beings, as well as great beauty.

A brew like that isn’t ready overnight. No, it needed to simmer for a year and a day. And it needed to be stirred constantly. She didn’t have time for that and she didn’t expect her son to be so diligent so she grabbed a young boy and set him to the task.

The boy stood by the fire stirring the huge, steaming cauldron without fail for all that time.

As the day arrived for the potion to be ready, the sorceress showed up with her son. They stood close, so close, ready for those first drops. The boy stirred and stirred, the ladle heavier than ever. He was smudged with soot and so very tired.

The liquid bubbled, roiling with magic. With a pop, three drops burst from the surface and flew into the air.

Now, there are two versions of what happened.

In the one you usually hear, the bubbles, all by themselves, land on the hand of the small boy, burning him. He puts his fingers into his mouth to sooth the pain.

There is an alternate translation of the ancient text in which the boy, seeing the drops released into the air, jumps, holding out his hand to catch them, then shoving it into his mouth to taste as well as sooth.

The result, however achieved, is that suddenly he knows everything. The first thing he knows is, the sorceress is going to kill him. He runs. She follows.

He changes into a perch and dives into a pool. She becomes a pike and follows him. Changing into a fleet-footed hare, he runs through the grass. She, a sleek greyhound, is close behind. He, now a salmon, swims upstream. She, an otter, is right there. He, a swallow, flies swiftly away. She, a hawk, swoops down.

He drops into a grain of wheat and falls to a threshing room floor, one among so many. She, a little black hen, finds him and eats him.

Now she is pregnant with this little ingrate and vows to kill him at the moment of his birth. But he is so beautiful she cannot bring herself to do it, so she sets him in a rush basket and lets the basket float away.

He is found, taken, this beautiful wise child, to the king, where he is raised by bards to become Taliesin, the greatest Welsh poet of all time. The sorceress is Ceridwen, goddess and wise woman.

This is a story of fire in water, an ancient motif seen throughout Celtic myth and found also in Hindu tales. The motif is an ancient one, traced back to the IndoEuropean roots these traditions share.

Which version do you like? We tend to prefer the standard one in which the child is chosen, presumably for his steadfast devotion. It wouldn’t be right to take something intended for someone else. Would it?

Think about the boy. There every moment. Working. Diligent. Alone. What are his thoughts? His dreams?

The message of the second version, the translation I prefer, is this: At some point, we must to put out our hand and take what we need, take what is there for us.

Creative fire does not sit around waiting to be bestowed. We work for it. We strive for it. And then, at the pivotal moment, we say yes! This is mine. I want it. I will be burned for it.

This month is like that. There is a huge cauldron brewing. The ingredients are thick, mucky, and don’t smell too good. Keeping it moving is tough. It’s hot sweaty work. We’re tired of it. We’d rather walk away.

At some moment, perhaps during one of the three eclipses coming up, the flash of insight will appear. It’s likely to burn. We could let it go by. We could tell ourselves we’re not worthy, not enough, not ready.

Let’s jump instead. Catch the fire. Let it burn us. Let it transform us.

Isn’t that what we’re here for?

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I use Unsplash for almost all my photo illustrations. All astrological charts are my own. The images in this post include the title, adapted from the photo of an approaching storm by Johannes Plenio, the photo of an underwater world by Nsey Benajah, the cauldrons by Tikkho Maciel, the fire by Ihor Malytskyi, and the little bird by Paulo Brandao.