New moon in Virgo, keeper of the sacred rhythms and cycles of our Earth.
Get out into Nature. Sit with Mama Earth and listen to her wisdom. She is calling to you… do you hear her?
Go commune with the mother.
Full Moon Wisdom
Full moon in earthy Capricorn, home of elder wisdom. The grandmothers advise that it is not yet time to push for change. Relax and gather your strength. Mediate on your next action. What sacred work is calling to you?
☾☽
Taurus Moon and Uranus
This new moon in earthy Taurus is amplified by Uranus
moving into Taurus as well.
A big shift has begun.
It’s about honoring and valuing
the feminine within ourselves and our Earth.
Great time to connect with Body and Earth
from a space of love.
☾☽.
#Taurus
#Uranus
#MamaEarth
#SacredFeminine
#Nurture
Fiery Aries New Moon
This fiery warrior new moon in Aries also has
Uranus nearby, stirring things up.
You may be feeling chaotic, off-balance, wild.
When things get this crazy, it’s time to “go to ground.”
Calm yourself with daily exercise, yoga
or some other physical activity.
Better yet, spend time walking or sitting
with Mother Nature.
She will calm you.
#GoToGround
☾☽
Virgo Full Moon
Full moon in Virgo, sacred priestess of earth cycles and rhythms.
Long hidden truths are surfacing as illusions fall away.
A watery Pisces sun amps up your emotions.
You may feel wild in the midst of this shift.
Find solid ground.
Anchor yourself to
Mama Earth in the storm.
Saving the World
“So, the world is fine. We don’t have to save the world—the world is big enough to look after itself. What we have to be concerned about, is whether or not the world we live in, will be capable of sustaining us in it.”
~Douglas Adams
I hiked into Sanitas Valley last weekend. It was so gorgeous that I decided to stop and sit on the east ridge for awhile. I found a big rock high on the ridge and sat surrounded by scraggly pine trees clinging to the rocks. And I could feel layer after layer of tension melt away as I sat in the afternoon sun.
As the sun dropped lower, I walked across the valley and sat under a huge old ponderosa pine on the west side of the valley. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind blowing through the grass; I felt so grateful to be in this beautiful place. The wind danced around me. Wind seemed thrilled to have one person listening and a little bit aware, if only a little.
I sat and day-dreamed about everything this valley has witnessed; dinosaurs roamed here billions of years ago when it was a swamp on the edge of an inland sea. Later the Arapaho tribe hunted and camped in the shelter of this valley. And now every weekend, thousands of people roam here in tennis shoes and hiking boots and flip flops. Many of the trails are eroding away from too much foot traffic. We risk destroying the valley we all love.
Personally I don’t believe that Mama Earth is in any real jeopardy, she will be just fine. Even though we pollute, misuse and mistreat Earth, she has proven powerful enough to shift and accommodate every change humans throw at her.
Our Earth will continue to flow and teem with life, despite our inept treatment of her. It is people who risk annihilation; it is people who need to be reminded how to live in nature’s flow. We act as if we believe we can rule over Mama Earth and bend her nature to our will, but history has proven that idea to be folly again and again. We mistreat Earth at our own peril.
We’re not killing our Earth. We’re killing ourselves.
The Smell of Spring
Last night it rained. This morning when I walked the dog, there was a scent in the air that took me a moment or two to place… Then suddenly I remembered; it is the smell of soil waking up, coming alive after its long sleep. It is the smell of spring.
Go outside and sniff the air. Do you smell it? Listen. Perhaps you can hear the gentle whispers? Mama earth is beginning to stir. All winter, she has quietly held the seeds of spring in her soil body; she has coddled them and kept them safe, waiting for the time to sprout. And now spring is almost here and the seeds are stirring, preparing to crack open and grow new life.
The chickadees know; they whistle to each other from every treetop in my neighborhood. My dog knows; she sniffs at the soil with new interest. And the sheep know; they birth their lambs in February, knowing spring is almost here. My Celtic ancestors celebrated Imbolc at the time of lamb birthing. It was their way of honoring the end of winter and the promise of life returning to the land. Modern man has turned Imbolc into Groundhog Day, but I personally prefer the celebratory air of ancient Imbolc.
It has been snowing and snowing here, even more than usual. And I had begun to worry that winter might decide to go on and on and on. But then, on a cold, wet day in February, I hear earth’s whispers and I get a whiff of her soil coming alive. It feels like I just received a message from a long lost lover. And I instantly know that the spring I crave is on its way back to me.