If you want to talk about how any of these themes and challenges appear in your own life through the lens of astrology, I hope you'll consider booking a reading with me at Hearthfire Astrology.com. This Summer, 25% of all proceeds will be donated to local LA-based organizations providing much-needed food aid during the ongoing ICE raids on our neighbors.

In Case You Missed It, check out my debut appearance on the Our Big Fat Journey Across the Universe Podcast. You can find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. I recently joined my friends and fellow cosmic explorers Kelsey and Jaimie to talk about the origins, practice, and meaning of astrology. I’ll be making recurring appearances throughout the season, but this was my first. It was such a pleasure chatting with Kelsey and Jaimie. Please check it out and help grow the casual community of astrologers talking to non-astrologers about astrology.

Please read on for a text version of this post, listen from your email with the voiceover above, or subscribe on your favorite podcast app like Spotify or Apple Podcasts.

Welcome to the Last Quarter Moon in Taurus! This Leo season has been about my center. I've explored ways to find my own eternal center while grappling with fear of loss and longing for change. As the season comes to an end, I again encounter the combination of Leo, the sign of the transcendent, eternal spirit and Taurus, the sign of simple, steadfast abundance.

I last encountered the combination of Taurus and Leo in early spring. This project, still a wee sprout at the time, was full of potential. It had come to life only a month earlier and held within it some unknown fruit. I didn't need to tend my creativity to keep it alive; I had an abundant reserve of creativity remaining after a dormant winter. I needed to tend my habits -- the soil in which my sprout would grow.

During the ensuing season I focused on consistency, the simple, steadfast habit of showing up to the page and publishing every week, no matter what. From there I could explore the rhythm of my voice and the fluidity of my moods. I did, indeed, feel quite abundant. But I don't think I really asked myself why I'm doing this or what lives at the center of this work until now. I had enough energy and commitment not to need to know.

As summer came on and this writing project bore fruit, other opportunities bore more -- opportunities unconnected to writing. The energy I had consistently given this project encountered some competition. In a state of full fruiting, it was no longer so simple to decide how to allocate my energy. Consistently showing up to the page began to feel more like confinement of potential enjoyment than support for my creativity.

I maintain a lot of habits to support my creativity. In addition to morning pages and artist's dates I keep a lunar journal, a solar journal, and journals of every planetary aspect and ingress in real time, not to mention my studies and client work nor my labor as a worker and civic participant. Add to that my (very necessary) meditation and energetic hygiene practices, my spiritual practice, the yoga, the strength training, the morning and evening rituals and the good, old-fashioned chores and you have a human life brimming with consistent habits.

I keep showing up to this page each week. But why? And for what?

It isn't for likes or subscriptions or to attract a publisher. It isn't because I think I'll make money. I'd like to make money writing but that doesn't really inspire me. In fact, I have a real fear that money will ruin what makes writing special. I don't write because I think writing will lead to some outcome.

When I used to have a garden, I didn't get down on my knees in the dirt digging until I had tendonitis in both wrists or wake up at dawn to water while the raccoons wrapped up their nightly trash forage because I wanted fruit. I did want fruit but that isn't why I did it. A lot of my plants didn't make it to fruiting, anyway, whether because of raccoons or some failure of my own imperfect tending, or something else entirely. I knew going in that outcomes were uncertain and I was inspired to do it anyway.

The garden isn't linear or mechanistic and neither is my creative practice. I can't expect my consistent habits to have a linear relationship with creative fulfillment. My living center is not a point on a graph where two lines intersect. It is the transcendent, eternal spirit that animates all life running through me in an unpredictable flow of essential numinescence. I can give it all the supportive habits in the world but I cannot control what or if or how much it will yield. And when there are other things I might rather be doing, the eternal spirit that animates me tends to go wherever it thinks joy will occur.

This summer, joy has occurred with my niece at the aquarium and with my sisters watching bad tv. It occurred with my cousins over card games and with my father over homemade crabcakes. It occurred in a subversive bookstore and listening to a dad band drummer play his f*****g heart out at a fundraiser for the subversive bookstore. It was in the tomatoes my sister-in-law grew in her very own garden and harvested for me the year her first child was born while the growing baby played nearby. It was everywhere I looked except the page. I was wracking my brain trying to come up with reasons to keep writing when I'm not being materially rewarded for it at all.

But the answer isn't in my brain. The answer isn't rational like it isn't linear. The answer is in my heart. I write for the same reason I practice astrology and cook nice meals and do yoga: because it brings me closer to that transcendental, eternal spirit that makes tomatoes out of some dirt, water, and a seed. Whatever the Sun is made of that allows them to grow and fruit is the same thing that lives in my heart and allows me to grow and fruit. When I write, I feel more connected to tomatoes and everything else in existence. While not everything in existence brings me joy, tomatoes definitely do. I want to be as much like a tomato as I can be in this life. I want to grow juicy and ripe and one day maybe get eaten and then pooped by a raccoon so I may live again in some other form with totally different potentials.

I don't think a life without writing would make me feel juicy and ripe. I don't think a life of being consistently materially rewarded for my writing would make me feel juicy and ripe, either. Nor would a life without nieces or bad tv or cards or crabcakes. I want it all. If that means I have to use my habits to maintain my writing when the juice is flowing to other things, then great. I'm glad I discovered the magic of consistent habits. And now, when I next begin to question whether these habits are worth it, I'll know to consult my heart and ask myself: would you still feel like a tomato if you stopped doing this? Would you grow? Make juicy, ripe fruits? Would you be appealing to a raccoon? As long as the answer is "yes" more often than "no," I'll keep it up.

If you want to talk about how any of these themes and challenges appear in your own life through the lens of astrology, I hope you'll consider booking a reading with me at HearthfireAstrology.com. This Summer, 25% of all proceeds will be donated to local LA-based organizations providing much-needed food aid during the ongoing ICE raids on our neighbors.

In Case You Missed It, check out my debut appearance on the Our Big Fat Journey Across the Universe Podcast. I recently joined my friends and fellow cosmic explorers Kelsey and Jaimie to talk about the origins, practice, and meaning of astrology. I’ll be making recurring appearances throughout the season, but this was my first. It was such a pleasure chatting with Kelsey and Jaimie. You can find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Please check it out and help grow the casual community of astrologers talking to non-astrologers about astrology. You can find links in the show notes for all these options.

Click here to subscribe. I hope you'll consider a paid subscription.

Click here to listen to my debut on the Our Big Fat Journey Through the Universe Podcast

Click here to share this post with a friend.

Click here to buy me a coffee.

Click here to book a reading.

Click here to access the written version on substack. If you subscribe, paid or free, you can have the newsletter sent directly to your email. No need to download an app.

If you want to talk about how any of these themes and challenges appear in your own life through the lens of astrology, I hope you'll consider booking a reading with me at Hearthfire Astrology.com. This Summer, 25% of all proceeds will be donated to local LA-based organizations providing much-needed food aid during the ongoing ICE raids on our neighbors.

ICYMI: Check out my appearance on the Our Big, Fat Journey Through the Universe Podcast. I recently joined my friends and fellow cosmic explorers Kelsey and Jaimie to talk about the origins, practice, and meaning of astrology. I’ll be making recurring appearances throughout the season, but this was my first. It was such a pleasure chatting with Kelsey and Jaimie. You can find it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Please check it out and help grow the casual community of astrologers talking to non-astrologers about astrology.

Click here to subscribe. I hope you'll consider a paid subscription.

Click here to listen to my debut on the Our Big Fat Journey Through the Universe Podcast

Click here to share this post with a friend.

Click here to buy me a coffee.

Click here to book a reading.

Click here to access the written version on substack. If you subscribe, paid or free, you can have the newsletter sent directly to your email. No need to download an app.

This year’s newsletters are available for free but every paid subscription helps resist institutional fascism by fostering healthy relations between artist and reader. Participate in the community of creation by becoming a patron of the arts you consume, engaging with the content, and sharing what speaks to you. This may be an online space, but it can also be a launchpad for our shared visions to grow into something more.

If you want to talk about how any of these themes and challenges appear in your own life through the lens of astrology, I hope you'll consider booking a reading with me at Hearthfire Astrology. This Summer, 25% of all proceeds will be donated to local LA-based organizations providing much-needed food aid during the ongoing ICE raids on our neighbors.

Click here to subscribe. I hope you'll consider a paid subscription.

Click here to listen to my debut on the Our Big Fat Journey Through the Universe Podcast

Click here to share this post with a friend.

Click here to buy me a coffee.

Click here to book a reading.

Click here to access the written version on substack. If you subscribe, paid or free, you can have the newsletter sent directly to your email. No need to download an app.

If you want to talk about how any of these themes and challenges appear in your own life through the lens of astrology, I hope you'll consider booking a reading with me at Hearthfire Astrology.com. This Summer, 25% of all proceeds will be donated to local LA-based organizations providing much-needed food aid during the ongoing ICE raids on our neighbors.

Click here to subscribe. I hope you'll consider a paid subscription.

Click here to share this post with a friend.

Click here to buy me a coffee.

Click here to book a reading.

Click here to access the written version on substack. If you subscribe, paid or free, you can have the newsletter sent directly to your email. No need to download an app.

If you want to talk about how any of these themes and challenges appear in your own life through the lens of astrology, I hope you'll consider booking a reading with me at Hearthfire Astrology.com. This Summer, 25% of all proceeds will be donated to local LA-based organizations providing much-needed food aid during the ongoing ICE raids on our neighbors.

Click here to subscribe. I hope you'll consider a paid subscription.

Click here to share this post with a friend.

Click here to buy me a coffee.

Click here to book a reading.

Click here to access the written version on substack. If you subscribe, paid or free, you can have the newsletter sent directly to your email. No need to download an app.

Also, these newsletters now also appear in Apple Podcasts and Spotify :)

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Welcome to the Last Quarter Moon in Pisces! Again! Remember how at the last quarter Moon of the Taurus lunation, when the Sun was in Gemini and the Moon was in Pisces, I wrote about having fun? Basically, I discussed how you have to loosen up enough to let things be what they are. I stand by assertion and also have to acknowledge my own inconsistency in living that way.

For some background, I've tracked the lunar cycles for about five years. Every New and Full Moon I've written about the happenings of the moment. Over the years, this practice became more and more complex. With more data, I was able to track more patterns over longer periods. But, until now, I've never included quarter Moons in my lunar journal. I'm already tracking transits of every other planet to every other planet so it didn't seem necessary to get so granular with it. I don't even capitalize the "q" in "quarter." This astral year, I added quarter Moons. I thought it would deepen my understanding of the lunar cycle and improve the coherence of this piece.

While preparing to write about the current last quarter Moon of Gemini season, I discovered what appeared to be an "anomaly." In true Gemini rising with Venus in Virgo fashion, I couldn't resist the temptation collect and organize the data. I made tables and graphs and none of it explained anything; it only demonstrated the anomaly. So I did some more more calculation. Again, the anomaly was present but remained unexplained.

After crying in despair and frustration with my inadequate graphing software, I decided to look and see if anyone in the history of the internet had already, perhaps, noticed the same "anomaly" and actually explained it. Guess what? Someone had. I had to get on the Astronomy Stack Exchange but there it was. An explanation complete with proofs, animated graphics, and citations to some textbook published in 1859 written by a man called H. Godfray.

Suffice to say, I expected to write this week on the first repeat in the pattern, marking a clear turning point in the synodic lunar cycle. I was going to write about how it lined up with the Summer Solsice and oh, how beautifully organized is this perfect universe. But, alas, the actual position of the Moon ruined it subverted my expectations, which then sent me into a panicked spiral of self-doubt and desperation for order. So, instead, this newsletter is about something else.

The Moon is back in Pisces and the Sun remains in Gemini, just as it was last month. The configuration has repeated. When I last wrote about this combination, I didn't know I'd be seeing it again so soon. I was prepared to move forward in a perfectly formed spiral. I didn't realize how attached I actually was to its perfectly spiraled form.

When I saw the "anomaly," I really felt something like disillusionment. The perfect vision I had for this piece of writing -- and for the whole of which it is part -- was broken and could never be repaired. The firm roundness of form had been a lie. It was always a lie and I'd been having so much fun I never noticed. The Moon, the celestial body around which my creative practice orbits, wasn't where I wanted her to be. For some unknown reason, she was in Pisces doing God knows what. I felt betrayed by the very nature of creation. And when I couldn't find an explanation satisfying to my grief I was ready to chug a bottle of tequila and throw it into the sky, hopefully shattering this slut of a Moon into dust.

If I hadn't been so caught up in my ideal I might have noticed the usual vibe shift hadn't yet occurred. Pisces, ruled by Jupiter, is the sign of idealism and the creative imaginal. Pisces is so visionary, it can experience the beauty of what might be before it happens and disillusionment when what might be never actually is. This world just doesn't work the way a visionary's creative imagination works. This world is not an ideal.

Rather than dissolve into despondency, I turned to Gemini. I set aside my emotions for a moment and let curiosity lead me back to wonder. Why wasn't the Moon where I'd expected? How does she actually move about in the hard reality of physical space? I set aside everything I thought I knew and gathered the information that was actually in front of me, careful not to allow my expectations to affect what I might learn.

I put my data into graphs of all kinds. I saw the eccentricity of the regression line. I observed how the points wobbled slightly when placed along a dated axis. Wait a minute. Eccentricity? Wobble?? Is it possible the Moon's orbit is not perfectly circular but, in fact, eccentric relative to Earth? Is it possible the Moon's axial tilt combined with the distinct gravitational pulls of the Sun and the Earth cause her orbit to wobble along the ecliptic???

This explanation is a bit oversimplified, but, basically, yes. It’s called perturbation, a disturbance of motion, course, arrangement, or state of equilibrium. Especially a disturbance of the regular and usually elliptical course of motion of a celestial body that is produced by some force additional to that which causes its regular motion. Also, I didn't come to it in the manner described above. I actually cried at my desk and refused to be comforted by my partner, who was surely wondering why a bunch of dots, circles, and a ruler had upset me so. I came to it when I noticed the actual number of degrees between New Moons only averaged 29.5 but were not consistently at that value, meaning the synodic period was also an average, meaning the orbit must not be a perfect multiple of 29.5 and, therefore, not a circle. It was then that I consulted the Astronomy Stack Exchange and found the complete answer, which I reference above as if I had concluded it independently, but I did not.

However the explanation was reached, my awe was restored. My spiritual practice and my creative practice could continue. Everything I had believed about the Platonic ideal of order as beauty could still be possible. And I had learned something. And made some fun little graphs. All was right with the world. Life could go on.

If the previous last quarter challenge of Gemini and Pisces had been about lightening up, this one was, too, but with a twist. It takes a real Grinch to be sour about a cool dip in the pool on a hot day but it is very much human to be frightened when our expectations are subverted. It's also very much human to delight in the unexpected. These are the twin experiences of being human: the fear of losing control and the drive to be free.

Ideally, we could keep these drives in balance... but humans aren't an ideal. Humans are a mess of conflicting drives. Conflicting drives are why they build bridges: to get somewhere else they think they'd rather be that's still just a someplace on earth -- probably filled with more humans -- that will, ultimately, be disappointing. We can practice discernment and optimism and surrender but, still, there will be slips. A judgement creeps in here and some zealousness over there. Toss in some sentimentality and you have.... a human. It's enough to drive one to despair.

Rather than despair at our inability to be the ideal -- or the inability of the world to be an ideal world -- we can turn to curiosity. Curiosity can heal despair because it suspends judgement, zealousness, and sentimentality just long enough to let the humor through. Humor is born when an experiment goes terribly wrong and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. People who have faced terrible things generally become hilarious or fascists. A fascist is just a human who thinks they'll be free when they have total control over others. Hilarious people know for a certainty that they don't control s**t so they may as well enjoy life when they can.

I didn't get my perfectly formed transition into the first quarter square of the astral year. Yet, somehow, this newsletter came easier than any other has. I've had more fun writing it, too. I even learned some really interesting things about my craft; things I'd never have learned otherwise. I have a whole new rabbit hole to tumble down and the time this week to tumble down it, since I won't be slaving over writing that isn't authentic to the situation at hand. Something about willingness to go where the process takes me leads me right back into the center of my creative channel. And I get to go eat a consolation dinner my lovely partner prepared because he saw me crying at my desk and felt compassion for me.

Cyclic time is a wonder, y'all. Every time I move with it, resisting the urge to return to the rigidly linear expectations of my conditioning, I am rewarded. If that's what the first quarter square of this year's project has to teach me, I consider it a success.

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