eclipse season

Sun in Cancer season is always a lot, if different than other emotional, water sign seasons, like Pisces and Scorpio. Things we consider permanent or safely sunken parts of our emotional landscapes loosen with the emotional tide, and are deposited on the shores of our consciousness.

If Pisces is our subconscious, intuition, and dreaming, and Scorpio is pain and passion lurking in the shadows -secrets made painfully known, stinging truth – Cancer is our own emotional way of being in the world, what we hold in, the crying we do alone. Cancer is our vulnerability we try constantly to protect. With water seasons, I find it feels similar to being thrown out of a boat in turbulent water — don’t fight it, imagine your body as driftwood, go limp, go with it, and you will rise right up. Just ride it out. Fight it and at best the waters will fill your lungs, distended your chest – expanded with the weight of salt water.

Think first of Cancer, the crab. Its hard outer shell holding and hiding tender insides, able to scuttle in all directions, perceiving, darting up and down – peering out and descending, and the pincers that grasp and do not let go. Apply that to the emotional functioning of Cancer as a sign and you can see how all of theses things (as with all signs and their pros and cons) can be gifts and detriments.

Cancer is the only sign ruled by the moon – by the divine feminine, by constant flux and cycle – usually partially shrouded, and briefly, fully illuminated, then changing again. And, because the moon moves so quickly, and of course visits the sign every month (*every month*, no other sign has to go through that kind of activity as regularly), Cancer can be considered moody. Changing. And, Cancer is the sign and behavior of mothering. Family is vital to the sign of Cancer. What the crab cares for, it goes *all in* on, sometimes to the point of smothering. Cancer is, an emotional fish, er, decapod. It’s fiercely protective of itself and of its own.

Mary beating the devil. Fair depiction of one aspect of Cancer… the devil correctly fears one thing, a fierce mom.

Those of us who know or love someone with strong or aspect-vexed Cancer energy instinctively seek to find stable land in those relationships, but sand shifts and moves. Even if Cancer trusts you the once, that was just that one time. The next time is its own experience: to be determined. You are in with a Cancer or you are out. And, at the same time that doesn’t mean you aren’t still caught in a pincer without even knowing… if a Cancer decides you are their family, that won’t waver. Even if you are continually tested. Cancer doesn’t let go unless it can see a good reason or something forces it.

Screenshot 2018-07-20 10.34.15

The beauty of Cancer is the truth of the emotions. When Cancer isn’t bound by a calcifying rising or moon sign like Cap or making a hard aspect to something like Saturn (which would try to convince Cancer that overt emotion is a detriment), the pure emotional expression is generally gorgeous, or with a strong aspect to Mars sometimes scary, but usually at the least, remarkable, often an honor to witness.

So Cancer season has us all feeling what Sun, Moon, and Rising Cancers feel regularly, to some degree. Much like when the Sun is in Pisces and everyone is crying, others have to live here in this place of shift and armor and chronic awareness of underlying vulnerability, the rest of us only visit. All of this and I haven’t even addressed the Cancer new moon partial solar eclipse a few weeks ago – energy that will resonate and play out for months, especially for Cancer sun, rising, and moon folk.

processing pie cherries and the last of the 2013 honey

Personally, that Cancer eclipse on the 12th was much stronger than I thought it would be, in ways I didn’t expect. So. Much. Cooking., and, during incredible heat outside… illogical, but satisfying. I go in cycles with cooking, but I suppose since Cancer is my 4th house of home, there’s nesting to be expected. And, extra focus on mothering of course. I went to see Won’t You Be My Neighbor with a friend, which severely cramped my crying. But still, I was and am wrecked, accessing those memories and emotions raised by it.

A thing I could see during the film was that while every viewer loves Mr. Rogers, his relationship to everyone varies, of course. As with the example in the film of Jeff Erlanger – someone to whom Mr Rogers probably meant the world – the rest of us fall along a spectrum. So confronting how much he meant to me, and why, (probably very similar to what he meant to my sister and brother) cuts to the quick, does not let up. We’ve been talking to each other about who has seen it, who hasn’t. It’s a sacred subject for us, something we each hold in our depths.

In this season it’s natural too that other, deepest, nerve-close narratives should arise now for emotional processing. Cancer is the season of the wounds that haunt us – the rusty, corroded aches we can’t quite name, asking to be pulled from the depths, cleansed, transformed. Things lost at sea rediscovered, brought up, and cataloged, understood, demystified.

A friend linked me to the CRIMINAL episodes about Evelyn Nesbit. And then Tuesday, Karina Longworth, posted the episode I’ve been so long dreading/waiting for: Virginia Rappe and Roscoe Arbuckle. I’m anxious thinking about listening to it, heart my throat. I’m so worried she is going to overlook or not expound upon a key angle.

I’ve studied these stories and women and women like them so much, and their narratives resonate so strongly, both scholastically and personally, especially Virginia’s. Sarah Marshall pressed me to explain it once and I couldn’t. I thought for sure she would have something she felt that way about, a topic she has to leave the room for should it arise, unable to hear so many get it so wrong and for it to be partly personal to her. But she didn’t.

I’m going to go see the Mr. Rogers movie again, alone. And properly, though characteristically silently, express everything that should be left there, in the dark, with only his constantly accepting face flickering back at me.

After Cancer season of course, is Leo. In Leo we can have genuine, well merited pride over what we worked through, use our new wisdom in a wonderful display of saturated individuality, or we can fall to pridefulness, having not worked through what arose, with a self-deceptive shrug of: ‘I’m fine the way I am. Humph’… all very, The Emperor’s New Clothes. In a few months, Scorpio will have something to say about that.

Current recurring visual themes of my season: keys, wasps, spiders, and the feathers are back. I asked for signs to keep me bolstered and steady, and so the feathers are back. And, people leaving things on my doorstep. Which is curious, and unsettling.

Ready yourselves for the next Full Moon partial Solar Eclipse in Aquarius on the 27th, and then one in August in Leo – a sort of next chapter in the book of last summer’s big eclipse in August. I like to think I’m sitting these eclipses these out, with little activity in these signs in my chart, but as I’ve learned, how these eclipses impact others ends up impacting how their relationships and communities change, grow, or morph in turn. The ripples made by others create whole tides elsewhere.


water rights


In case anyone was doubtful, Elon Musk is a Cancer Sun (the sign the sun just left)… and that Sun is square Uranus… Tesla in more ways than one. Walking away from an issue around water (Cancer) and technology (Uranus) would be nearly impossible for him (Aries rising).

And also, because go internet… 😂 2018-07-16


You guys, occasionally problematic Elon Musk heard all of us!!! It’s one stressor to feel slightly less stressed about! PROGRESS. I guess when Thailand was like ‘Nah, Elon… keep your child submarine, we got this,’ the urge to do good was already poistioned in the chamber. (You hearing this, Bezos?)

And, if that isn’t sufficiently New Moon Solar Eclipse in Cancer for you, the Mr. Rogers movie is out of limited release. Sooo, now everyone can go weep openly in public with total strangers for two hours. Ah, Cancer season… never change.

Screenshot 2018-07-11 22.36.48

I have thoughts about these 3 eclipses, but I got stung in the face yesterday and look like Ron Pearlman in Beauty and the Beast, so I’ll just do a round up of nice writings instead and then go ice my face.

Salient Writing from Jessica Lanyadoo

Gray Crawford – Partial Solar Eclipse in Cancer

July and August Eclipses – Julie Demboski

Solar Eclipse in Cancer – Chani Nicholas 


Also I made this dank meme for yesterday, and I’m ridic proud of it. (I don’t actually speak as such… I’m the uncool equivalent of Poochie in The Simpsons.)

Sagittarius during Jupiter Retrograde




Mostly what think about now is the ongoing neurological damage the children in this country’s concentration camps are experiencing. It’s something I’ve studied enough to know fairly well what is physically, psychologically, and emotionally occurring, and what it means long and short term, while their young brains are simply trying to do the work to make sense of the world, and to grow.

Here’s a reading list if anyone wants to think about what this means for the children held in chain-link cages, and their lives, now and later.

Please use resistbot (twitter is cheaper, but you can also text RESIST to 50409) Please protest, please do whatever your life and self can manage. Maybe if you can, donate money. RAICES and ACLU are just two places to donate.

It can be hard for introverts or folks with anxiety to make calls, I know from my own experience. Many people feel like they are barely taking care of themselves and their families, let alone with energy enough to protest the constant horrors. Maybe once a week or once a month folks can manage to use resistbot or email the companies profiting from holding kids and families as hostages. Put it on your calendar and set aside 5 minutes. Something. Anything. Go to protests. Or support protesters.

And, because prioritizing our horrors is also dangerous, don’t forget that *Flint is still without clean water.* A problem Warren Buffet, Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk could fix right now.

I feel too afraid to start crying. I have so many tears compressed that I don’t made space for; I just keep tamping it all down. My throat and heart are going to splinter, and cleave.

Though in all, it feels complicated to personally be in what’s overall a happy place these last months and now. It’s hard to stay balanced, self caring, and present when so much is so awful; those are always such difficult emotions to have sustaining. Give yourselves permission to care for yourselves, to find joyful things each day, take only bite sized doses of news and media, and let yourself check out when you need to.



uranus, taurus

Tomorrow, Uranus moves into Taurus, after 7 years in Aries. And, the new moon on the same day is also happening in Taurus… that’s a massive new tide. It’s the first and one of the only major astrological moves happening this year.

A bit about the planet’s function first… Innovative Uranus is the strong impulse for rebellion, independence, and even shock. Exciting, unexpected, and liberating, Uranus will overturn anything traditional, conventional or orthodox that it deems has outlived its usefulness… Since Uranus also holds sway over social change, it also regulates the global brotherhood of man and all humanitarian concerns, including environmental issues. 

I’ve always thought of Uranus as Tesla – the man, not the brand – thinking and creating something(s) so unexpected and radical, communal, overhauling whole schools of thinking and moving the world forward in leaps. Of course the culture pushes back, stirred from it’s complacency, but it can’t unsee.

Now a bit about Taurus… Taurus the sign of earth, nature, sensuality, traditions, finance, luxury, food, work, art & beauty, values. I think of Taurus as Orson Wells – an unbelievably brilliant artist – a genius, a virtuoso summing up and aesthetically challenging his time, instinctive, successful, but ultimately (later) overindulgent, hedonistic, and obstinate. Sorta sloppy at the end — the shadow side of unchecked Taurus.


Uranus is an outer, transpersonal planet. Like Pluto, much of the work Uranus does is cultural — broad strokes (versus the personal planets closer to the earth, such as Mercury and Venus). Think of how in 2011, when Uranus moved to Aries, Kardashianism, tumblr, and selfies were just starting to reach an apex. Everyone’s parents and grandparents finally got on Facebook. The broadly named ‘Arab Spring’ was in full swing and it felt like a new protest or demonstration in the middle east was happening each day.

uranus, photo: loupi_nou

Uranus is departing Aries and Aries is the sign of the warrior, of the self… Me-ness, and self advocacy and self focus. While many roll their eyes at the idea of celebrity-for-no-real-reason, self study through the eyes of others has its place, especially for young women who have been denied self-hood in myriad ways for thousands of years. Many artists, including Cindy Sherman and Francesca Woodman (to name just a couple), taught us that. We have to understand how we are in the world — the identity of our self — that is encountering the world.

Uranus in Aries also saw the cultural impact of the outer planet resonate with the start of protests in the US around the Occupy Movement, Ferguson, Women’s March, RESIST, #metoo, etc., protests about holding the culture accountable to how it impacts individuals and therefore non-dominant communities.

Apply those functions to Taurus – sign of nature and its resources – and suddenly things like the shift in focus to water rights, Flint drinking water crisis, the volcano Kilauea, begin to set the tone of the transit. (The 2011 tsunami in Tōhoku Japan happened right before Uranus moved into Aries.) Now apply that kind of transformation and addressing of long standing issues to the self, and we can begin to understand how this transit might impact us culturally, and personally. What will be revealed are opportunities to dramatically overhaul our emotional status quo, transform long-standing issues and bad habits, and forge entirely new ground by unearthing new beliefs and philosophies, all related to the house this is happening in for you.

And to look more closely at the personal impact of Uranus in Aries, think of what was going on in your life in spring of 2011, when Uranus last changed signs… what is different? How are you different now? What was your emotional tone 7 years ago and what did a day in your life look like? What were the most significant events through those years?

Look up what house Uranus was transiting in your chart —  (I love this site b/c it defaults to whole house system, and shows current transits on the outer edge. Just start entering your birth city where it says Sydney, AUS) see what house Aries occupies. This will reveal which themes and narratives Uranus was impacting these last 7 years, and what running themes will be taking attention these next 7 years for you, in Taurus.

For me, Aries is my 12th… the house of death, self-undoing, subconscious, suffering… or so it’s called. I find it to be the house of psychology and our shadow selves – the decisions we make and how they impact us in ways we didn’t imagine. Ultimately, for me, everything that had to die — relationships, jobs, situations, friendships, beliefs, habits, did die. I leave that transit a distillate of myself, far more purely me than 7 years ago, but chrysallis-ing, with no excess. I am wholly pared down and what I hold close, is fiercely held. There’s no surplus — everything that was supposed to leave me, did. What was built on false, weak soil atrophied itself, removed itself, withered off. What’s left is: of the self, as the self, mine.

From, ‘The History and Antiquities of the Deanery of Craven in the County of York

It’s curious then to now see the focus shift to Taurus and my first house of self, the house of my ascendant. What I know is that in 7 years time, I will likely not be very recognizable. My self will be transformed into new, and the nature of Uranus means that the changes will be innovative and unexpected. I’d imagine the places I’ve always been pushing for – living off grid in a wooded area or living abroad in Bruges or Malmö, but the nature of Uranus means the changes will likely not be ones that were able to be imagined.

Note: I just read this by Gray Crawford and turns out I was right about Tesla, whose natal Uranus was in Taurus… at least my instincts are spot on! It’s a great, insightful piece about the significant, cultural tides created by this transit.

A tarot spread I scrawled – hopefully helpful to begin conceiving of this transit.