Quiet in the Woods

Posted by Amanda Moreno

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

The correspondence of the sign Cancer with the summer (northern) solstice has never really made sense to Amanda Moreno, given its sensitivity versus the social activity incited by the “season of light.” With a “Cancer-type” Moon, she finds a little forest escape offers the renewing stillness she’s needed.

By Amanda Moreno

There are a few simple facts in astrology that I’ve never really understood, or that just don’t make sense to me in light of my experience. Maybe I just get tripped up through over-thinking, but the correspondence of the sign Cancer with the summer (northern) solstice is one of them. The sign that represents internal processes, latent emotions, subtlety and home seems so awkwardly positioned to initiate the season of light.

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Photo by graywacke/A Landing a Day

Up here in the Pacific Northwest, the season of light definitely corresponds with a major increase in social activity as well. Not to say Cancerian energy isn’t outgoing, but so much social activity can be taxing to the Cancer-type.

As a Cancer Moon-type myself (by virtue of my natal Moon residing in the 4th house), I tend to get a bit cranky when the autumn storms are late in coming, as I’m more than ready by mid-September to retreat back into my cave for a spell — a six-to-nine month spell at that.

Cancer is a sign of psychic sensitivity, probably underscoring a need for retreat from others. Isabel Hickey says:

…Cancer responds to life through his feelings… As they are extremely psychic they find it difficult to separate what they feel from what they think. They are at the mercy of their moods, up one day and down the next. They are psychic sponges, absorbing any atmosphere around them without realizing it. If they are in the company of happy people they bloom; if depressed people are in their vicinity they droop and wilt and do not know why.

Now, my personal bias about the meaning — or shall I say feeling — of the sign and the season is probably colored by the fact that during Cancer season, the Sun is falling through the 12th house of my own chart. A planet moving through the 12th house often indicates some kind of dying-off process. My energy ebbs more than it flows; my longing for quiet time, alone or with kindreds with whom I share strong bonds, increases greatly.

This past weekend, I realized it was the first time in seven or eight years I was not on vacation or at least ‘staycation’ for the July Fourth holiday. In fact, I’ve taken extended time off over this period consistently — and have almost always left to go camping or to a cabin. Through some fault in planning, I missed the boat this year, and I’ve been feeling that call towards silence in some very loud ways.

Luckily, a friend and I were able to take a little last-minute camping trip to the Olympic Mountains, which offered a small dose of retreat that felt incredible.

Here’s the thing about this mountain range / national park. It’s one of those places that is very much untouched — due largely, I would imagine, to the fact that it is home to several rainforests which ensure that wintertime rain levels are in the hundreds of inches.

The silence in places like this is so complete, even with the sounds of water, wind and birds. Sitting on the banks of a river in the sun, I was able to let that stillness wash over me and bring my attention to my senses and let myself drop in — and away from screens and phones and everything else my busy, busy brain wants me to fixate on.

And then there are the trees. I am, in fact, a tree-hugging individual and have a very cherished relationship with trees. I love them. I love that you can lean against them and they won’t go anywhere. I love talking to them and listening to them and watching them and learning about them. I love looking up and being stunned by how tall they are. I love seeing how one fallen tree plays nurse to five others.

Trees in this forest can range up to 1,000 years old. Standing amidst them, tuning in, you can start to feel the strength of that slowness and sense the wisdom of beings that have existed, holding space, sticking it out, for such lengthy swaths of time. It brings a sense of awe and much-needed perspective.

There among the trees and the water and the slowness, I was able to unwind and decompress a bit. We wandered around. We built a fire. We attempted to fend off hordes of mosquitoes. And we ate freshly caught crab.

Coming back the next day, we drove through many miles of forest, the only car around. I couldn’t bear to listen to music, still needing more immersion in the silence. I let my mind wander to fantasylands where elves were watching us and mossy trees became creatures. We extended the road-trip portion a bit by driving to the coast to get a glimpse of the ocean.

Life in the city, in this world, is so busy. So cranked up. So constantly, consistently loud in so very many ways. Retreating — by myself, or with a few select others — is something I’m lucky to be able to do from time to time, although I’m aware that I need to do it far more. Slowing it down, shutting off the screens, giving myself permission to stop thinking about the little things and just be present, sitting on the side of a river listening to the water or observing the way the afternoon’s golden light plays with moss and fern as it trickles through the branches…

To me, Cancer in essence represents home and identity. Having written so much in the past months about identity crisis, I’m aware that although connecting with home and family are good medicines for my soul, reminding me of who I am and who I want to be, my constant identity questioning often needs a rest. I need the white noise of water and wind to run through my mind and soothe all the rigid places.

I need to go to places where I can just sink into the deepest parts of myself and exist for a while, just another creature living among the trees.

Attention anyone with a Cancer Sun, Cancer Moon or Cancer rising: Eric will be recording your birthday reading for the next 12 months -- nicknamed The Cancer Illumination Kit -- shortly. You can secure the lowest price we offer by pre-ordering now. Not familiar with Eric's audio or visual readings? You can listen to last year's reading here, as a gift.

Attention anyone with a Cancer Sun, Moon or rising: Eric has recorded the audio portions of your birthday reading for the next 12 months — nicknamed The Cancer Illumination Kit. You can access them by ordering now; the video will be released after July 4. Not familiar with Eric’s audio or video readings? You can listen to last year’s reading here, as a gift.

Posted in Columnist on | 4 comments
Amanda Moreno

About Amanda Moreno

Amanda is an astrologer, soul worker and paradigm buster based in Seattle. Her adventures in these forms of ‘practical woo’ are geared towards helping people to heal themselves and the world. She can be found in the virtual world at www.aquarianspirals.com.

4 thoughts on “Quiet in the Woods

  1. Amanda PainterAmanda Painter

    One thing that crossed my mind about this statement, “The sign that represents internal processes, latent emotions, subtlety and home seems so awkwardly positioned to initiate the season of light,” is that while Cancer solstice does kick off the season of *warmth* in the Northern Hemisphere, it actually signals the days getting shorter.

    So while the Aries equinox kicks off the “season of light” in one sense — days are finally longer than nights — one could also see Cancer solstice as initiating the retreat back away from the light.

    Maybe that’s partly why the sense of exhaustion in September from all the socializing (totally an emblem of the heart of summer — Leo — right?) feels so clearly needed: the warmth pushes us to extend ourselves in ways we might not if the peak of warmth coincided with the peak of light?

    Just a thought…

    I wonder if the shift is so dramatic closer to the equator, or whether having less “extreme” extremes of light and warmth balance things better? hmmmm…

  2. Glen Young

    The esoteric ruler of Pisces is Pluto, and Pisces is the sign of the 12 house. Chiron, Neptune and Pallas Athene are in Pisces. Healing, transformation and rebirth. Sound like good medicine. Thanks for sharing; my twelfth house is lit up too.

  3. LizzyLizzy

    Great thought, Amanda P – really makes sense! As a Cancerian I’d also say that the sea is usually one of the most important places for people of this sign – which is lived most intensely in the summer months. Thank you for this exquisite piece, Amanda – it resonated so deeply for me. Up until recently I was able to retreat every summer for about a week – either into a forest or for the last couple of years to a dear friend’s hut on the Red Sea in the Sinai – but for various reasons it hasn’t been possible this year – and I really miss it.
    Also this: “If they are in the company of happy people they bloom; if depressed people are in their vicinity they droop and wilt and do not know why.” It was an astrologer who did my chart many years ago (a gift from my dear mum) who pointed this out to me – and it was like opening a very large window. xxx

  4. LizzyLizzy

    PS As I set off for work this morning was reflecting on how one of the most expansive and fiery signs of all, Sagittarius, is near the winter solstice – so maybe there’s something about oppposites here? (and as I was thinking that, I bumped into my lovely Sagittarian friend, a neighbour of mine!).

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