Full Moon and Total Eclipse in Scorpio: On looking to/from the other side of the year

Full moon in Scorpio in total eclipse hovering over the waves and the offshore oil rigs

I have heard from several astrologically inclined folks whose views I trust and respect that this eclipse calls for committing to the fire the attributes, stories, tendencies, convictions, relational dynamics, and whatever else we intend to release, as well as those we would like to invoke.

I followed the eclipse (yes, quite literally, on foot and in a car) from its partial appearance at sunset to its total, bloody spectre in the deepening darkness. The streets were quiet. The people who gathered at the bluffs along the coast to observe this phenomenon kept for the most part a silent vigil.

Partial eclipse near sunset

At each full moon, eclipse or no eclipse, I tend to keep a record of my day, where I spent time and with whom, as well as the objects of my thoughts. I will also think back both to the previous full moon, and especially to the full moon six months prior, as a given full moon is thematically interrelated to the one on the far side of the year.

Six months ago, the full moon was in Taurus. Now it is in the opposite sign of Scorpio. One theme of this polarity is visibility/invisibility. Taurus represents the tangible, that which is in full bloom, or that which exudes texture, scent, shape, and other characteristics that can be observed and appreciated by the senses. Scorpio represents the hidden processes that conspire to render the tangible into existence. Scorpio refers to the subterranean cycle of decay, death, and regeneration that is always at work, though often veiled.

The full moon in Scorpio during the height of spring, when the Taurean blooms are at their fullest, asks that we remember the other side of the year, the inevitable recycling of organic matter.

And so it is a good time to anticipate release, the death of something, as we also appreciate the transitory splendor of all the colors and fragrances with which nature surrounds us.

So, perhaps it is helpful to understand the “blooms” in one’s life through the lens of the opposite full moon.

Six months ago, in mid-November 2021, where were you? Whom did you see? What conversations did you have? Where did you travel? What kind of work did you do? Does looking back at that day aid our understanding of what we have brought to bloom? And what has come to its fullness today that will be ripe for letting go in six months’ time? What actions, thoughts, relationships, or personal endeavors would you like to see evolved in another six months?

As an example of such a recording, today I did the following, some of it intentional, some of it impromptu (but no less important):

  • Shared a meal with my parents – a new take on an old recipe.
  • Did a solo yoga practice at the beach, and while walking back to my car was given a beautiful flower arrangement from a wedding party whose reception had ended and needed to divest themselves of the flowers; these flowers are now installed next to my hearth.
  • Sat with a dear friend and reflected on how we have both grown out of difficult personal trials over the past six months.
  • Cleared my desk of some editorial work.
  • Made myself a favorite meal of roasted vegetables in cascabel chili oil with a lime zest and cilantro finish.
  • Walked along the bluffs to watch the sun set over the distant mountains, and the moon rise in its partial eclipse.
  • Drove to the same beach where I did yoga earlier and watched the moon assume its bloody veil, while standing barefoot on the warm earth to “open the channels” of perception.
  • Returned home and read over some of my poetry, to find that it wasn’t as bad as I remembered.
Godlike cascabel-chili-infused roasted veggies and black beans

As for six months ago, I stood barefoot watching the moon that night as well, only the soil was softer and colder, and my bones felt as hollow and resonant as a bird’s.

And for you, good reader, what threads of the tapestry of your life are woven into the other side of the year?

This can be a revelatory point of reflection, especially for those of us who like to go in for some semiotics, weighing sign for sign, or symbol for symbol. Those beautiful wedding flowers, or the yoga, or the poems, or the cascabel chilies…what do they mean? Where will they find their corollary this November?

But for me this time around, the lessons of six months are simple: Time is a healer and a teacher like no other. Things happen in their own time, rising, taking shape, falling away. It is possible to assure oneself of something intellectually without the heart’s credence, or the body’s readiness, and these can be forced, but the result is not a happy one.

It is important to be deliberate, incisive, and courageous with one’s recording and reckoning, but also tender and compassionate.

Enjoy the eclipse, and I will leave it to you, reader, to determine its meaning for yourself, as you will and must do despite my and my astrological kindred’s best efforts to win you to our convictions!

Wedding flowers!