The Moon, Venus, Goddesses, Belonging, Fitness and Food - Part 1

Much to my surprise, this blog will be Part 1 of 2, because it turns out there are more things in heaven and earth than I had previously dreamt of in my philosophy. So, off we go… “Then as part of the game she completely forgot Where she’d hidden herself and she spent The rest of her time trying to find the parts.” —Howard Jones, Hide and Seek

Over the years there has been (and still is) a lot of talk about “the rise of the feminine” and “the Divine Feminine” and “the return of the Goddess”—important and big subjects that I can’t always make heads or tails of, especially when they get confused with actual women, the actual equality of actual women, and actual violence against actual women. Talking about “the Feminine” is not the same as talking about actual women. There’s a big difference! And, when it comes to the rise or return of the Divine Feminine, I’m not necessarily seeing what everyone else seems to be seeing. One particular kind of femininity seems to be rising at the dangerous expense and fall of another extremely important kind of femininity. To explore this terrain, I want to consult the two main go-to gals of the basic astrological pantheon: the Moon and Venus. And, to be sure, I am writing mythically, about mythic figures, not literal ones.

A PLACE IN THIS WORLD

When people talk about “the Feminine” or “the Goddess” or “the Great Goddess” in particular, it’s almost always the Moon they’re really talking about, whether they realize this or not. A great deal of femininity is contained in the Moon, for sure. She is the Great Goddess, the Queen of the Night, the Great Mother, the Nurturer, the Caregiver. The list goes on. In astrology, the Moon is exalted in the earth sign of Taurus in part because of the innate connection between Mother Moon and Mother Earth.

More specifically, the Moon is about home, emotional security, safety, comfort, and a quality of nurturing and caring for the “tribe,” the whole family. The Moon is about what feeds us and nourishes us. It’s tricky sometimes, because people can get used to discomfort—they become comfortable being uncomfortable—and so the Moon’s sense of security is not necessarily about soft pillows and relaxation and bubble baths (that’s a preview of Venus). It’s more about what is familiar, and what is familiar is not always literally comfortable. It’s just familiar. The Moon simply provides us a place in this world, a sense of belonging, a shelter, a place to call “home.”

The Moon has an inclusiveness that can sound like love and compassion, because the desire and appeal of including everyone and making everyone feel at home can be quite lovely and profound. The more, the merrier, at least from the Moon’s perspective. The Moon’s inclusiveness is what allows community to form, and the Moon is the archetype behind the notion that “it takes a village.” The village, together, inclusive, taking good care, belonging, no child left behind.

An extremely popular young adult book right now is “Divergent,” by Veronica Roth. Currently being made into a movie, its trailer features Kate Winslet proclaiming, “The future belongs to those who know where they belong.” What happens, though, when you are exactly where you belong, but you don’t quite fit in? Uh-oh. As “the rise of the Feminine” continues, especially within the context of humanity reorienting to a “global village” perspective, the Moon is getting an abundance of air time. The trick, though, is that the Moon may be inclusive, but is by no means unconditional. What if, like the book’s female lead, one is “divergent” and does not quite fit the Moon’s mold? What is the difference between belonging and fitting in, and why does it matter? Enter: Venus.

EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE

Both the Moon and Venus are extremely feminine, but Venus is altogether different than the Moon, as you will see. It’s time to leave the child behind. If the Moon is what nourishes us, Venus is about taste. Venus is what and how we love. Again, not in the sense of compassion-love, but more in the sense of, “I love that book!” or “I love that color!” or “I love that shirt!” Venus is the goddess of love and beauty, and her make-up container also includes harmony, balance, the scales, proportion, fun, froth, charm, appeal, desire, pleasure, art, music, socializing, cosmetics, accessorizing, aesthetics (particularly when looking nothing short of fabulous), and the entire, essential, superficial keeping-up-appearances arena of life. Venus is the goddess of the five senses, which connect each of us with the sensual world around us and allow us to see, hear, taste, touch and smell it all. Venus brings us to our senses. Whether you are bending down to smell a beautiful rose, or quickly turning away from the disgusting and revolting milk that you just discovered went bad last week, your aesthetic responses are all thanks to Venus. Without Venus, we’d probably just eat the fuzzy, moldy, green cottage cheese. And we’d all wear scratchy burlap trousers while doing it. And we'd all belong to the Clean Paper-plate Club.

Again, Venus is the goddess of beauty. Beauty! Wow! What would we do without beauty? To see just how vital beauty is to our lives, check out movies like “Children of Men” and “WALL-E” and “District 9” and the recent “Elysium” to see wrecked worlds that lack beauty. Venus’ beauty, though, is not about beauty really being found on the inside and all that. No! Absolutely not. To say that it’s what's on the inside that really counts, what really matters, is to say the entire world around us, out there in all its aesthetic splendor, doesn’t really matter, and that the majesty of epic redwood trees is not beautiful, because real beauty is what’s on the inside of those trees. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? Nature loves to show off her beauty, and we can take a lesson or two from her. Oh, hell, we need her whole graduate studies program!

See, Venus has more to do with “cosmos” than with beauty being in the eye of the beholder. “Cosmos” is about beauty and order. Not order in the sense of control and rigid structure, but order in the sense of pattern and arrangement. There’s an inherent order to things, a design. Like, when you look up into the sky at night, and the arrangement of the stars into constellations inspires us to imagine pictures. Nice! Or, when creating a flower arrangement. You don’t just throw all the flowers on a plate and let them lay there. You have a suitable vase, and you work those flowers into a beautiful arrangement. You fuss and you play, and if they aren’t beautifully arranged, you aren’t done. It’s an art. It’s a sense, an aesthetic and cosmetic sense. Everything in its right place. Things fit together in a harmonious and pleasing fashion. It’s a composition, like arranging musical notes on a staff, creating harmony with a melody. Music recordings credit an Arranger, because how a piece is arranged is essential. Someone knows how to put all the parts together in a pleasing fashion. It’s a talent and a skill, and “The Lord of the Rings” movies would be entirely different without it. (Imagine!)

Moreover, when for example I listen to the luminous Sarah Brightman and the glorious Italian stallion José Cura sing their breath-taking duet “There for Me”—and bathe and luxuriate in its beauty—it sets the world right. Everything in its right place. There’s order. There’s cosmos. I feel excited, alive, and deeply, deeply reassured at the same time. I can relax. And despite the “Repeat 1” option in iTunes, that sense doesn’t last forever. It’s not supposed to. Sometimes it feels too short-lived. And yet, it’s not “beauty fades” in the sense that it withers on the vine, gets decrepit and ugly, and finally dies a miserable, flailing death. No, it’s more of a rest, more about beauty sleep. The cosmos chills out and rests. Sleeping beauty. Beauty is high maintenance, after all! Who ever said being beautiful was easy? Beauty needs sleep and rest, and we find beauty again in that down-time.

Venus also brings style. While the Moon has a style all her own, it’s not really about style, if you see what I mean. Do you look better in autumn colors, or spring colors? Maybe you can rock the winter colors like nobody else can. It’s about style. Your style. Too much Moon in the fashion industry, and we’re looking at a whole bunch of really baggy clothes that don’t fit. Too much gap in them, or it all becomes one big banana republic. The Moon’s inclusiveness prefers more of a one-size-fits-all approach. It’s easier to take care of so many people that way. This became clear to me not too long ago when I had coffee with a friend, and I was wearing a new shirt. She said, “Shawn, it’s so nice to see you wearing a shirt that actually fits!” There’s a depth to that statement that went through me when she said it, a depth that applies to everything, not just my shirt. A shirt that fits is really nice, and a life that fits and is pleasing is altogether incredible.

Beauty is rarely, if ever, discussed in “the rise of the Feminine,” except when it's considered a "myth" in the inaccurate and dismissive sense of that word. That's when Venus’ beauty gets linked more with a Barbie doll, considered merely superficial, and then thrown in prison (like in the show “Orange is the New Black”), lost to Time being served, where she must pay her dues in order to possibly be taken seriously and released. When Barbra Streisand (a Taurus) named her recent album "Release Me," perhaps it was more than just the unreleased songs from her vault she was talking about. She has the right idea. (And even if she only meant the songs, the wisdom of the unconscious and the imagination has its ways of revealing the essential greater truths.) See, all of this is still dazzlingly, wonderfully feminine. Yes, this is the Feminine that can sound so much like luxury that it can be hard to embrace, especially in a society severely lacking anything resembling economic equality, gender equality, and social equality in general. But remember I'm not talking literally. Beauty is a myth, in the finest and truest sense of the word (something that never was, but always is), and it begins in the imagination. Work from there. And, if the shoe fits...

The epic move we have made in the last three decades from “local” to “global” has uprooted folks and resulted in an anxious longing to belong and a desire to not be left behind or excluded. Why be different? Why diverge? Why risk it? Note: Venus has her Joy in the 5th House of the astrological wheel, the House of risk-taking! This is a big clue. In today’s world Venus’ "fitted" exclusivity can seem downright unfair and unbalanced. Recently, a sushi bar in Virginia banned anyone under 18 (because children and teenagers in the restaurant just didn't fit their style), and was deluged with protests. Yet, with our society (and the world) in a state of such imbalance, where genuine equality is sacrificed for mere tolerance (which rarely wears the ring of truth), how can we discard the very essence of “balance” itself?

I’ll pick up there next time, and mingle the Moon and Venus with each other, to see their differences even clearer—and to bring fitness and food into the mix. Comments on this post are entirely welcome.

When I Met My Muse

It's time to share a short poem by the late, great William Stafford, with my brief commentary afterward. When I Met My Muse By William Stafford

I glanced at her and took my glasses off—they were still singing. They buzzed like a locust on the coffee table and then ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and knew that nails up there took a new grip on whatever they touched. “I am your own way of looking at things,” she said. “When you allow me to live with you, every glance at the world around you will be a sort of salvation.” And I took her hand.

***

It's a wonderful way to speak about vision and sight archetypally, because archetypes are really the lenses through which we perceive and live.  The time seems to come in every life when you remove a set of lenses through which you saw the world (perhaps a learned perspective, or someone else's perspective that works for you, or a move from the literal to the archetypal), and replace it with the way you see the world, "your own way of looking at things," your own voice, your own bent on life. It's still archetypal -- it's never not (even "literal" is itself an archetype) -- but you're able to express the archetype in your own way, joined with your own Muse.

Next on deck for my blog is a longer post titled "The Moon, Venus, Goddesses, Belonging, Fitness and Food."  Should be up in the next couple of weeks!

Grand Trine in Water - Memory of the Future, Part 2

The Grand Trine in water is winding down, yet Jupiter will be in Cancer for another year, Saturn will remain in Scorpio for two more years, and Neptune has over a decade left in Pisces. Water remains abundant for quite some time.

As noted in Part 1 (which is good to read before reading Part 2), water brings us into a more timeless way of being, where memory and imagination are not radically different from one another. Memory, reflection and imagination add presence to the present.

What follows are a number of various musings on the different pieces of the Grand Trine in water. For starters, check out ATB’s beautiful and evocative song “Moving Backwards.”

MEANINGFUL MEMENTOS (Jupiter in Cancer)

Jupiter, the great sky god, is the grand Adventurer of the planets, the Storyteller and Visionary. Stories bring meaning to life. Cancer connects us with feelings of belonging, of home, of family and what is familiar. Cancer holds on to very personal memories by saving letters, photographs, voicemail messages, mementos, souvenirs. With Jupiter in Cancer, meaning and memory come together. They tell a story. Memories mean something. Our personal histories resonate with meaning.

In “The Muppet Movie” Kermit the frog sets off on a cross-country adventure, heading from his Florida swamp all the way to Hollywood. Along the way he is joined by Fozzie Bear, Rowlf the dog, Miss Piggy, Gonzo and others. They become family. At one point, Gonzo is lifted into the sky while holding a bunch of helium balloons. Later in the movie, when the group is stranded and sitting around a campfire feeling lost—a moment with resonance to this Grand Trine, not to mention a fine example of how memory and musing work together—Gonzo sings the poignantly nostalgic yet forward-looking song “I’m Going To Go Back There Someday,” reflecting on what it was like to fly and his longing to return to the sky.

The United States of America has Jupiter in Cancer. This can be seen in the adventurous spirit of the early settlers crossing the country to claim land to call home (though it doesn’t account at all for the horrific actions toward the native people already here first). We can see Jupiter in Cancer too in the gathering of different cultures together, all bringing with them different pasts and different stories and different beliefs, attempting to build a united shelter for all (though we can see more and more in 2013 how wildly complicated such a vision actually is at the ground level).

There is also something of Jupiter in Cancer in universities, with their annual Homecoming events, and in how you remember your “alma mater” (“nourishing mother”). Jupiter’s higher knowledge nourishes the soul.

And perhaps it was Orville Wright’s Jupiter in Cancer that helped make the first airplane flight a family affair with his brother Wilbur.

MEMENTO MORI (Saturn in Scorpio)

Saturn in Scorpio is arguably the most difficult and trying part of the Grand Trine, because Scorpio delves into the deep end. Saturn in Scorpio lingers in the swamps, marshes, bogs and billibongs of the psyche and of the world. These are strange yet fascinating places we’d rather not hang around for too long, if we can avoid it. Mosquitos breed easily in the musty air, and strange creatures can hide out in the shadows. Where to step? Is this even safe? What lurks in the stagnant waters? Perhaps there really is a serpentine monster in Loch Ness! Saturn in Scorpio can arrest all forward motion, in the interests of going deeper into difficult and challenging emotional terrain, the monsters in our own lochs. Yet, still waters are nature’s mirror. Reflection is natural, and reflections in the Saturn in Scorpio mirror can be quite profound.  They draw you down into your core.

Consider Luke Skywalker's experiences on the swamp planet Dagobah, and the rigor and intensity of his training to become a Jedi under the guidance of Yoda, and you get an idea of the challenge as well as the potential.

Closer to home, in a galaxy not so far away... In the aftermath of the recent verdict in the murder of Trayvon Martin trial, this powerful and bold piece depicts one way Saturn in Scorpio works, in its potent and brutal honesty in the face of injustice and death:

To White Folks: The Collective Lament of Trayvon Martin is Not Your Anti-Racist Political Platform

Posted on the day the aspects of the Grand Trine in water were tightest, the author writes, “Here I sit. I don’t have much to say. I only have ways of feeling.” And, “I am at the bottom of the sea, with no surface in sight.”

Battered and war-torn ships sink to the bottom of the sea, but so do their treasures, which lay waiting indefinitely to be discovered or remembered if we are willing to explore these murky depths. You can’t find the sunken treasures if you resist going to the bottom and spending some time there.

There’s a lot more to Saturn in Scorpio, which you can listen to in my recording “Saturn in Scorpio – In Search of Buried Treasure.”

And, before moving on, there is this news item, today: Package sent to Globe brings end to long mystery (wow!)

EXPLORING THE BLUE (Neptune in Pisces)

“Haunted by your grace  /  The beauty of falling… falling…  /  It echoes through my days  /  I still hear you calling  /  You’re calling me…  /  The calling is taking over, it’s taking over…”—Dash Berlin & Emma Hewitt

["Ocean, Stars, Sky and You" by mudmelly]

Neptune in Pisces calls with oceans of possibility.  Before I launch into the longer musings for Neptune in Pisces, if you want an immersion in Neptune in Pisces consider checking out Neil Gaiman’s brilliant new book “The Ocean at the End of the Lane.”

Now, in chart readings lately I have been exploring with people the nature of Neptune and enchantment. This is tricky territory, considering Neptune’s reputation for illusion, confusion, escapism and addiction. How do you fit enchantment and addiction together? What’s real and what’s an illusion? While I’m not all that qualified to talk about what’s “real” with any authority whatsoever, I want to offer a perspective to consider.

If you keep in mind the difference between spirit and soul, the spirit is what seeks clarity, a clear vision. The spirit is interested in Truth with a capital T. The spirit wants the Truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the Truth. Honesty is its best policy. The spirit is quick to call “illusion” anything that does not fit its understanding of the literal, actual Truth.

The soul, however, works Truth through story, art and myth. For the soul, truth is a heart-felt song. For the soul, truth is in imagination. What is considered a fabrication to the spirit becomes the fabric of life for the soul. Imagination reigns supreme. We see this resoundingly in the movie Big Fish: “This is a Southern story, full of lies and fabrications, but truer for their inclusion.” Without enchantment, we're missing a huge part of the story! From this perspective, perhaps there is more truth about Van Gogh in his “Starry Night” than in the huge biographies written about the man and his life (as interesting as those are). Perhaps we can find out more about Charles Dickens by reading “A Tale of Two Cities” or “Bleak House” than we can by investigating only the facts of his life. When we tell stories, or tell our lives as stories, the poetic truth inside these stories reverberates deeply with the soul. To poeticize means “to make.” Poets thrive on imagination, and from the perspective of soul, imagination is not something made up; rather, imagination is what makes up the entire world around us.

This is where enchantment comes in. See, Neptune gets associated mainly with escapism, addictions, confusion and illusion when viewed through the perspective of a disenchanted universe, which is the worldview western culture locked in during the Enlightenment and the Age of Reason in the 18th century and has never really shaken. When the universe is viewed as a machine, turning its planetary gears and galaxies around and around and around with mechanical precision—a scientific universe in which reason and order prevail—the longings of Neptune take on a heightened urgency. This is where addiction comes in. The need for escape becomes paramount—and rightly so! Who would want to live in that kind of universe? Longing for something better becomes a necessity, because most of the astounding wonder and majesty and mystery of the world and the universe is reduced to what can be rationally understood and reasoned with. Get me out! Addiction becomes a way out—and a huge problem—mostly in lieu of any other options (for example, the option that we live in an enchanted universe and what that means).

Consider: from the perspective of most indigenous cultures and wisdom traditions that dominate world and human history, the world in one way or another is enchanted from the get-go. The soul comes first, not last. Souls, not babies, are born into the world. These cultures pass on unique stories, legends and myths from generation to generation, carrying the combined sense of memory and imagination with them.

Recently, Merida in “Brave” displays this sensibility when she follows a trail of will-o’-the-wisps, the spirits of her ancestors. Somehow, they know the way better than Merida.  In this regard, mystery is not an inconvenience, full of obnoxious detours and annoying setbacks in what should otherwise be a more secure, straight-forward, practical, productive and predictable experience of life. No. Mystery is not something to be understood narrowly through a microscope, but rather imagined archetypally through a horoscope. From the perspective of so many indigenous cultures, in one way or another enchantment is the way of the world. It’s what we’re made of. Neptune is the stuff we’re made of. The enchanted, wondrous, magical world of the soul is present in everything, everywhere. Said best by the ghost-spirit of Merlin’s father to his son, in the television series Merlin, “Magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself.”

WET WET WET

The Wikipedia entry for “decompression sickness” (also known as “the bends”—think: reflection and water) includes a section called “Leaving a high-pressure environment.” In the high-pressure environment of today's world, experiencing this Grand Trine in water might feel a bit like the bends: Woah! Too much! Give me something to hold onto!

Immersion in water is a very different experience than standing on top of the grounded and practical productivity many have grown accustomed to or try to keep up with. That way of life no longer works. It’s not enough, not by a long shot. If it’s hard to keep up, slow down. With this Grand Trine in water, and three major planet in water for quite a while to come, we would do well to loosen the more rigid structures we cling to for security and understanding, and spend time reflecting, telling stories, reading myth, wondering and imagining.

Water is the source of all life, and not just literal life. The imaginative life that emerges from the element of water is more vital than ever. With this Grand Trine in water, Jupiter in Cancer nourishes the imagination, Saturn in Scorpio deepens and strengthens our most essential core images, and Neptune in Pisces places in our hands the fabric from which we can weave a more cohesive and inclusive world of soul.  Time to get wet!