SAGITTARIUS FULL MOON HOROSCOPES
The Sagittarius Moon is growing full...and it's an eclipse **
officially, June 3rd at 8:41pm Pacific - 13º Sagittarius
This full moon is a treasure map, X marks the spot. Yet, with Jupiter on the north node and Mercury next to Uranus the X is curving towards and away and also at tangential angles...the X is a rotating bookshelf...the X is a fancy hat or a hanging snake and so maybe the map is upside down. Yes, some coordinates may surprise you and some treasure might not be treasure at all but a trove of big life questions. You may ponder the tension between freedom and security. You may have a profound moment of gratitude or a time that clarifies your heart and reveals to you what really matters, what you can’t do without on your journey. Believe that the fortune you seek is possible, that you will keep growing and guessing and finding the answers - that the pleasure of solving the puzzle is always more soul-making than spending the prize.
It’s not what you know, it’s what you can learn. It’s not how competent you are but how willing you are to stay open, to keep everything in play, to tolerate a variety of outcomes and moods and still know your worth. Confidence doesn't come from being good at stuff, it comes from believing you can handle making mistakes and learn. A traveling circus tent needs sturdy poles, needs to know what land it's on, how to respond to rotating weather, resources and respectfully feed its elephants. A strong structure holds us up so we can let loose and make mistakes.
Easy to flirt and puff clever smoke into faces before driving off alone. The silence of the ride home dropping sound bites out the window…..do we ever really get to know each other? Can ‘hello, how are you ?’ be a soft landing into 'hello, how are your demons ?' Sometimes we gotta go below the speed limit, sit at red lights without checking the phone. More questions, more pauses, more presence - all demons are lulled to sleep in the soothing gaps of a good listener.
A spotlight shines a beam in a well-defined orb, but you are growing outside of it. You are searching beyond your normal visibility, into edges you’ve not yet touched. You smile patiently, singing your song, tapping your toe while the rest of you is truncated. Clear your throat and give a big wave, try to get the attention of the figure in the tech-booth...it's a matter of communicating to them your ideal stage design. It's a matter of setting a cue for more light.
Your DNA is paragraphs long of classic literature. In every little helix we translate ancient texts. In every RNA a recipe for bread in beautiful cursive: before putting the lump of dough into the oven, cut off both ends. Bread loaf after bread loaf, we follow tradition. Lost in translation we later realize that great great grandma lived in a time of smaller ovens, where full loaves did not fit. Honor the recipes of your mother tongue and also let there be more bread.
If a cowboy is going to roam, it must make sure its horse is fed, its fur is brushed nice and silky. If a cowboy is going to have it their way - it must make sure the beans are cooked through, that the leather on their jacket restores its oil. It’s okay to be free and also have nice things, to be comfortable rocking in your pirate boat. You deserve to be wild and also have the treasure of fresh water, good music, deep sleep - these things that give an untamed body its fuel to stay strong.
We enter quietly, we pet the sleeping dog, it jolts up suddenly excited. We rest on a couch made out of blankets, a squishy sound with every sigh. We see the bright colors and smell the corridors, our bare feet on a furry rug. Walls bounce back and forth in intimate textures of you, stories that get to grow and play in privacy. There is no better journey for your friends than to be invited in, to see the soft place you go when no one is looking.
You are the one you have to be around nonstop, you are your ultimate best friend - staying up late into the night talking to yourself, getting coffee and then lunch. You are the one calling off work and driving by your own house to get a change of clothes so you can keep hanging out. The sun goes down rolling over blankets, spilling jugs of tea into dirt and into night. You hope you’ll never part, you and your you-soulmate whispering into the wind “to me my beloved and my beloved to me.”
Like any successful village, a baby is born and we wait to see what they are good at and then we plop them into the lap of the elder in town who is good at that same thing. We keep ourselves alive by paying attention to each other. Our special skills are a community resource like firewood by a local river - we don't attain our highest good in a void. Imagine, being a doula to your genius like it's water, air or soil for your neighbors. Image, feeding a whole village.
Part organic matter, part silt, sand or dry soil - we didn't get to choose what early factors fertilized us, but we do get to pick and arrange whatever flowers might have grown there. Bless the holy land from which you came, bless the family rituals, complexes, inherited ticks - bless a backyard and the smell of grilled meat and the age you decide you don't eat meat. Bask in that original way you were taught how to see and indulge in the adventures of more seeing.
When hunters kill an animal in the woods they gut it and carry the carcass home and later birds and wolves will come to eat the rest, the entrails left as a gift. There is circularity to eating and making money and feeding your appetite. The carcass will become many things to many bugs and fresh dirt microbes. Through others, you may realize that you can have food to last you lifetimes. Money is never just about money, it is about people creating value for each other - it’s about people sharing their appetite.
When giving birth, pushing and panting no longer makes sense. Suddenly the pain lifts you out of the sheets, hovering over your body past the ceiling, past the clouds and the moon and the clinking fixed stars and other planets until you see the clumpy dust of our galaxy and all the other galaxies. You move towards a bright light, and then further beyond it. You reach your hand up into the abyss and clench around it's nothing. Holding tight you pull it down into this creative mass coming out of you, taking its first breath. Sometimes you gotta go to nothing to make something.
Get lost in the desert, live off cereal bars and bugs. Get lost in the rhythm of a water canteen clanking on your belt as it empties and fills, over and over with different teachers, books, landscapes, dreams. You learn how to climb and jump, you reach new levels of complexity yet somehow get closer to the basics. It is quite easy, you love what you love and that's enough - whatever is not that snags on a fence, flaps in the wind, waves to you goodbye. As my teacher said *It's better to have one or two shells than a mouthful of sand.*