Yesterday’s unspeakable tragedy in Manchester, UK, puts astrology and most other human enterprises in their place. No matter how lofty their endeavor, nobody can yet restore a life once it has been taken. Murder is obscenely easy. Vengeance is always senseless. Meaningful justice is rarely a straightforward proposition, and frequently elusive as well.
We know our sympathies will not bring back loved ones lost. Yet we extend our condolences nonetheless, knowing the same grief could have come to any of us. Another thing all of us can offer is to keep living so as to create (rather than remove) reasons for both ourselves and others to live.
It is therefore not to mock us that objects on the zodiac keep moving. Even if you should feel helpless, cycles of the Earth and sky show life’s way: to go on. In what is about to happen with the Sun and Moon is therefore a symbolic implication. What will be occurring at the same time with Earth’s oceans will be both a sympathetic and tangible indication of much the same theme.
The Sun has been moving in Gemini for several days now, with more than three weeks to go. Timed with that particular traversal is an awareness that your current season (a quality always mediated by the Sun, regardless of where you live) is heading towards a change. That’s how Gemini is considered to be a mutable sign. In a little less than a month, the Sun will move on to a solstice after leaving Gemini to enter the sign Cancer — initiating the season to follow.
As any season enters its last weeks and days, it is not unusual to be at least wistful regarding all that is due to pass with it. Even so, the Sun moving through a mutable sign also gradually prepares you for what is to come. To cite just one example, compare your clothing today to what you were wearing in the final week of March when our current season was just getting started.
On Thursday, the Moon will leave Taurus (where it is now) to also enter Gemini. About seven hours after ingress, it will share the same degree of mutable air with the Sun. That will be the next New Moon. Also moving through Gemini at the same time (only a handful of degrees away from the New Moon conjunction of the two luminaries) will be a calculated and oscillating point in the Moon’s orbit: the perigee. The lunar perihelion (as it is also called) represents the part of the Moon’s orbit that is closest to the Earth.
A Full Moon at, or sufficiently near, its perigee looks bigger, and is nowadays frequently called “super” by those who favor the pop culture persuasion. As with all New Moons, a conjunction of the Sun and Moon near the lunar perihelion point does not present a visual tableau in the sky. Instead, the impending Gemini Moon will be most in evidence where life evidently began (and is still substantially sustained): the vast seas.
When the Moon moves between the Earth and Sun on Thursday, only the side facing away from us will be reflecting solar illumination. The very same alignment (combined with the Moon’s proximity to us) will not pass without effect, however. Instead, and through the force of their combined gravity, the apparent merger of the Sun and Moon for May will assert its undeniable and predictable influence largely through tides of even greater magnitude than with the Taurus New Moon of April. Indeed, some of the highest tides of 2017 are due this week.
There is precedent for making the daily rise and fall of ocean waters a metaphor for the range of human emotions. There is also scientific evidence that it is the tides, even more than the existence of water in liquid form, that have made the emergence and abundance of earthly life possible.
While a profound tide at its greatest extremes can indeed cause stress (and even destruction) for living things in the immediate vicinity, such examples are only part of a greater — and providential — continuum. With the rising part of the cycle comes fresher water and nutrients for some. With retreat, yet others find their sustenance. The idea is to somehow go on living through the most challenging part so as to see the other side.
As it is with the tides, so it is with the seasons. Some periods are easier on life, others harder. Yet, life itself cannot be simply turned on and off to function only when conditions are most favorable.
Every moment must be lived through so that the next moment may come. It’s not an ideal situation, but that’s what we have. That, and one particular form of power even greater than the tides.
Unlike the oceans, and even the planets, you have an occasional ability to choose. With the power of your will, you can very often choose to support life itself. With the power of choice itself, you can sometimes make subsequent moments better, rather than worse, for at least some of those you are fortunate enough to be living with. Even the Sun and Moon combined can’t do that.
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