CAPRICORN FULL MOON HOROSCOPES
hello friends, the Capricorn moon is growing full.
Do we enter an obstacle course just to get to the other side ? What if instead, we enter to learn, to pay attention to ourselves, to make funny choices, to get lost, to form intricate relationships, to listen and see who can help us build or break rules. We enter to be transformed. Integrity has no timeline, success is not linear, sustainability cannot be rushed.
Enjoy your horoscope :)
Some people are scared of success because they think it’ll make them ugly. But, success just amplifies whoever you already are…if your peace of mind right now depends on a craving for recognition…then sure, success will feel like craving for recognition plus hair sprouting all over your body. It will be exactly you now, hungry for attention plus your eyes turning yellow, fingernails growing into claws. The world makes werewolves of us all. But you are not like that ! Nothing is an end all be all of your peace of mind, you don't need success to feel powerful, you've already won...you’ve already let this moment of wholeness be enough - and so you, amplified, is just more wholeness.
The gross part about money, aside from all the wrong people having it, aside from our culture letting it become god, is that every time we exchange it, we are eating each other. You pay me, I swallow you. I pay you, you swallow me. Life bites life. Because of this, many of us dissociate around money, we cower away at the horror of this feast. But what if instead this gruesome life cycle was profound and unavoidable. What if we all secretly loved devouring each other because that’s how this human dirty joke works. What if we loved each other so so so much that we drank the wine and ate the flesh and felt no grief because this is how we keep each other alive, because this is how we cure loneliness - us interdependent money-eaters who refuse to shut each other out, who refuse to deny this compassionate vice.
There are all these risks to being alive, we are all addicted to hard days, we all hunger to push through…to defy our limitations, whether that’s reaching a deadline or athletically texting. We bite into our toast in the morning, we toggle the burnt crumbs around between our teeth. Why does grit feed us, is being burnt out a signal for how much we care ?...for how devoted we are ? I hope not. Begin burnt out seems to be the least resilient thing. How are we suppose to change the world with only our pinky finger. Who would you be with a full grip? Stop trying to improve the branches of the tree which have gone barren and cold, cut them away at their root. Prioritize the branches of your life which are fruit producing, which feed you back with each hunger to push.
A more sophisticated version of humanity isn’t after the earth dies or after the diet, or the certification or dating app. It is making direct eye contact with the dirt, it’s plugging your nostrils with soil, its going down, down, down into some ancestral hiss, some thump at the core of the earth where your body will one day decompose, to join everyone in your lineage who once had a pulse, once smelled grass somewhere, grass that wasn't dying. Go back, go back, ask what your ancestors know...can you believe everyone saw even more stars for all of history up until a century ago? Ask what your childhood knows about smelling like mulch, stomping on ant hills - so many ants, going on and on, forever, why not stomp and stomp…pull up the secrets of a time less restless, a time teaming with life.
We are all sitting in air-conditioning and going extinct. We are all acquiring useless gadgets, golden toilets and wireless dings. Yet, our worthiness goes beyond paying rent and reeking like perfume. Imagine how *alive* you are right now ! Electricity is all over you, your body is playing your internal organs like jazz - everything you come into contact with, sets it's drum beat. How important it is to press your weight against good friends, good food and a cold rock - to regulate your body with a beaver dam or a tunnel made by a mole…how important to make sure this jazz doesn’t become doom metal. Modernity looks sleek and all (plastic in our blood, blue light) but how might you remember what humans are for..? Go press the low buzz of stress hormones against a quiet, cold rock.
Great work can build in a shadow, collecting power where there is no light. I guess sometimes this can look like witchcraft, other times - fear. But the shadows don’t even know what power is, what good or bad is, the shadows don’t even know they are shadows. Why even take away your growl, why stop making that cool nook-like shape with your shoulders, let grief morph you into a direction (like a plant bending, twisting and repositioning their stem). Directions don’t even know what power is, what good or bad is, directions don’t even know they are directions. Directions are sorta like just decide and adjust course based on information you slowly receive from dreams and divination. How might you lean into the wild shapes the world has gargoyled you into, as if they are fulcrums in the dark collecting power.
The psyche is always doing it’s autonomous click-click. Always building a picture of reality, opening hidden doors, turning down hallways that lead to stairs leading to more home-theaters in your head. In this hellish day and age, all of us have a toxic leak in an unconscious basement…a seeping, invisible attitude (who knows how it got there)...the littlest click-click of paranoia or self-doubt, and what is more poisonous than self-doubt ? You are the only one who knows when you’re using things to protect yourself and keep your ego together and when you’re opening and letting things fall apart (Pema Chodron). Your thoughts can be poison or medicine. If the medicine is true, it will transform you… it will open things up, it will let things fall apart.
Gimme that oxytocin, gimme that ancient body-and-brain molecule, gimme that thing that decreases stress response, licks at each other's fur. It’s not the sex, it’s not the shared values, it’s not that they make you laugh. Checking off relationship must-haves is childsplay without the one essential joy: trust. Trust has nothing to do with chemistry, it is a tired old dog that is built through time and labor, small micro-expressions, speech intonations, small moments of presence affirming you are okay to ask for help. When you let yourself ask for help, you drop a dose of trust molecule - drip drip drip, we slowly show each other the shape of our bond and our boundaries - drip drip drip, we forgive each other when we’ve fallen short -- drip drip drip, through time, we learn to pass through the portal of trust.
Wake up horny awake in the eyes, awake in the heart for the urge growing in your belly. The most sustainable thing is to make love with every longing you have to be yourself…the bad, the good, stop having a preference. Muses work in mysterious ways, muses have no safe words, muses are moody bedfellows - sometimes putting you through hell because the devil has your next great idea. Sometimes good work gets scary, brings you to your knees, needs you to destroy something (a belief, a comfort), needs you to buy everyone drinks and breathe in dust and urine and cigarette smoke and loiter in some weird part of town an hour before everything closes. When you trust in the movement of your creative muses, no dilly-dallying is too evil.
Sometimes we think with the wrong parts of our mind. Trying too hard to pour our awareness into some direction. Like our brain is a den of alligators, we grip concepts between our teeth and drag it off where a sense of control is stored. Yet often, the most powerful parts of our mind is where it is empty and alien. In vacuity, pictures are released. Like automatic drawing, you must let yourself waste space, useless lines, swing a pencil around in spontaneous outbursts, you must assume that greater effort does not equal greater results. How might you build intimacy with a deeper part of your mind, and trust that it's not a ferocious creature but a sentient symbol-speaking guardian who is trying to develop your latent powers, who’s trying to help you get out of your way.
Sit now, pose for a painting. Let someone capture your liking. Let someone draw a line down your face, along the center, around your sitting hands. Let the paint application be muddy, actively erased and reworked. Let the way others see you be a photograph of a fast-moving train. Colors blur as they struggle to keep up with your transitions. Sometimes, they may wonder about the first sketch, before you began changing, they can almost see the evidence of an earlier pose in the thin outline of a cheek. Yet, your face and hands will continue to be repainted…the rest is beyond appearances, the rest is a soul-thing, the rest is behind the black center of your eye, the rest is all yours - no one could ever keep up or capture it, no camera or brush would ever dare.
So much easily separates us from the children we were, only yesterday. Time brimming with subjectivity, passion, while the school principal waits with a clock, waits for you to join in on adult time. When did you consent to grow old ? When did the communal drinking water get poisoned ? Adulthood is a spooky cult...what if instead a thriving community is not possible unless we defend childhood, unless each individual's subjectivity and play is at the center of everything - where no one is trapped in any role, doormat or pedestal, where intimacy is standing in a circle or a blob or whatever embryonic dream our bodies make together. What if everyday life is just a non-hierarchical attempt to tell the truth from whatever multitude of self spills out of your slinky eyes. You don’t have to be grownup to tell the truth.