The Dance of Self and Other
THE AQUARIUS FULL MOON & LUNAR ECLIPSE
Wed, Aug 5, 2009 at 5:55 am PDT
The Moon and Sun in Opposition at 13 degrees Leo/Aquarius
Yesterday morning, while I was sitting at the kitchen table, semi-conscious, sipping my morning coffee, my nine-year-old daughter, Annie, burst inside and excitedly demanded, "Mom, come see the hummingbirds!!" Now my daughter often does this, something wonderful, amazing, fantastic is always happening somewhere and she is usually the first to notice. But this time, instead of deflecting the request, I somewhat begrudgingly went out and was immediately mesmerized by the awesome daredevil antics of two hummingbirds whirling about in the garden. Hummingbirds are always remarkable flyers, but this particular morning something much more profound was happening, as these two were caught up in a wild, dizzy frenzy, punctuated with an occasional midair stop for some swordplay. My daughter and I decided that it must be some kind of territorial dispute, but immediately upon making that assumption, we watched as the pair landed on the ground and commenced mating. We looked at each other and laughed, and then I said, in my serious "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" voice: "The birds are actually mating, not fighting," and braced myself for a way-too-early-in-the-morning sex education discussion. Lucky for me, that was all my nine year old needed to know. She gleefully declared, "We are going to have hummingbird babies!" And ran off. I was let off the hook once again regarding the inevitable.
I have to admit that I have been putting off discussing this dance — the birds and the bees — with Annie. And me, a former TA for a sex education class, way back when the wooly mammoths roamed and I was a psych major in college. Isn't it amazing how parenthood brings out all the baloney lies we tell ourselves about ourselves? I like to think of myself as brave, but apparently I am one of the biggest chickens out there regarding the sex education discussion. Me, of all people — with both the Sun and Mars in Scorpio, the sign of facing taboos!
"What has become of you?" my flabbergasted inner 20-year-old laments.
The Aquarius-Leo cycle, in which tonight's full moon and lunar eclipse falls, has very much to do with this dance, the dance of self and other. Leo and Aquarius represent individual power vs collective power, ego vs humble service to humanity; and like all oppositions — and relationships — the one holds the other accountable, the other in check, the two striving for some kind of lovely, complementary balance on that celestial fulcrum point.
Aquarius-Leo signals a time when we can do the work to reclaim our lives too, but not in a selfish or self-centered way (which would be that dark side of Leo: megalomania and hubris); but in a way that empowers and enlivens you, and allows the expression who you truly are, in your heart of hearts, to shine through. And not, Aquarius wisely reminds us, for solely your own sake, but to benefit and inspire everyone around you. What would Leo do without Aquarius?
And it all sounds so easy, doesn't it? Yet even small steps in this reclamation project require an immense amount of courage, Leo the lion-heart brand of courage. For, in order to regain this power, we have to do some hard work: face the areas of our lives where we have given power over, where we have put an important part of ourselves on the backburner — or denied entirely — for security, for love, to impress, be liked and popular in some way with our crowd. We need to find the bits and pieces of ourselves we have scattered here and there, sacrificed to the Gods of survival. This last eclipse in Leo/Aquarius gives us one more opportunity to find these bits and regain some of the dreams of our childhood, ones that still inspire, that still call us.
I'd like to close by sharing an excerpt from a book written by the late John O'Donohue, an Irish Catholic scholar, but very much steeped in the older Celtic earth-centered spirituality, never fully eradicated in Ireland. The following passage is excerpted from the essay, "The Sin of the Unlived Life" from his book, Anam Cara (Gaelic for "soul friend"):
The shape of each soul is different. There is a secret destiny for each person. When you endeavor to repeat what others have done or force yourself into a preset mold, you betray your individuality. We need to return to the solitude within, to find again the dream that lies at the hearth of the soul. We need to feel the dream with the wonder of a child approaching a threshold of discovery. When we rediscover our childlike nature, we enter into a world of gentle possibility. Consequently, we will find ourselves more frequently at that place, that place of ease, delight, and celebration. The false burdens fall away. We come into rhythm with ourselves. Our clay shape gradually learns to walk beautifully on this magnificent earth.
A Blessing of Solitude
May you recognize in your life the presence, power, and light of your soul.
May you realize that you are never alone, that your soul in its brightness and belonging connects you intimately with the rhythm of the universe.
May you have respect for your own individuality and difference.
May you realize that the shape of your soul is unique, that you have a special destiny here, that behind the facade of your life there is something beautiful, good, and eternal happening.
May you learn to see yourself with the same delight, pride, and expectation with which God sees you in every moment.
— John O'Donohue
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© 2012 Elaine Kalantarian, all rights reserved