…like reading a book backwards

I’ve always relished the review process; it’s a primary trait of mine. I use it in my work as a particular skill set; reserved for the part when I hone and edit my way to all the best bits and make them into “a work of art” or something worth publishing. It’s why I always sense I love to put together the pristine set of photos more than I loved the experiences that led to me taking them; the homecoming more so than the travels. I like to harvest the fruit from the growth, the pearls from the mud, to curate a collection and put on a show, like a kind of glorious summary; having blown away all of the chaff from the palm of my hand. This thing, this resounding urge, runs like a thread the size of a fire hose through my life and my inclinations; a perpetual longing for completion, or closure…for neatness and tying-off.

Does it mean I also long for it “in life”; my own life? Does a part of me long for death from within every moment of life? It’s a question that bears asking from the point of view of a body whose myriad health issues has made life messy and challenging…constantly. I’m also cognizant of the fact that I know what it feels like to “do life review”; the kind that we are told by NDE survivors occurs on our death beds. I honestly feel like I remember the potency of this from other lifetimes, or must have experienced something close in mediatation or dream because such moments of unexpected review have been known to alter my trajectory in a single moment. It’s a well-known trait of the awakening consciousness to come to recall this feeling from countless other lifetimes and to realise that, this time, we can do it from within life…in order to reap the benefits of that overview from inside of life.  Its an evolutionary thing and more and more of us are doing it, encouraging it; as have I, to the best of my ability. That is, opening-up to the overview, the pulled-back, undramatised picture of what’s really going on at a higher level, learning from it in order to go more direct with the higher purpose of my life, avoiding unnecessary detours and distractions from soul intention if I can. Yet the experience of life still feels raw, feels messy, feels imperfect…from deep within it. So, is part of me still longing for that closure, the tidiness, the bit when I “get it” and conclude it, can make it all pristine and “nice”?

As I was pondering all this on my morning walk, a sharp pain brought me back to my temporal reality and I felt something intensely jagged in my left shoe; in fact, it felt like a shard of glass. Several attempts to remove the shoe and dust my foot off, to shake it out, didn’t resolve it and it was so painful a that I was acutely aware of its soreness all the way up the hill, trying not to apply more pressure. Wasn’t that just marvellous, the timely demonstration that the journey of life itself is often so much like this; imperfect, uncomfortable, such a slog, not what we wanted and, really, what was the point of all that pain? Surely, we would get it one day but right now…its just frustrating, such a lot of the time. When I reached the bench  at the top and could examine my foot more closely, it was the tiniest thing that had been causing me all this aggravation…a short hair like a needle from my own dog; I had to laugh… and yet my hypersensitivity to everyday touch sensations (I have a condition called allodynia that is commonly associated with the fibromyagia and chronic fatigue I have had for years) had blown it out of all proportion for me. How do you even navigate life when you are this sensitive, when you feel far too much as pain, more than other people seem to even notice (today’s example is the thin edge of a very long wedge), and when all you long for is the tidy conclusion, the pearl, the release?

Yet what that small pain did was bring me back to the moment, to the minutiae, to the things I otherwise miss…and I know that was what it was all about, really. I was “wide awake” all the way back up that hill and pain wasn’t all that I noticed. Pain brought me back to the experience of life, as it always does, and if I was more attentive…who knows, maybe pain wouldnt always be so necessary; a softer sensation would do. I know that, have known for quite some time but when do I get better at applying it? When will I put it into practice instead of looking, always, for the pristine, the resolution, the bit when it all falls tidily into place; looking back at the beautiful photos and making the retrospective story out of what I choose to keep but conveniently forgetting all the rest? When will I really-and-truly trust that life is “by design” and it is all perfect, it can never go off track and I will get to the experience of some sort of conclusion in the end; no rush? Like reading the end of a book first, I know this is backwards behaviour…and I never do that with a book, I always relish the unfolding of the plot, the more tangled the better, like the novel I couldn’t put down last week. Having the courage to do that in my own “plot”, trusting that there is a point, which I will certainly “see” in the end, if not sooner (and that I will get there in “right time”…quicker if I stop rejecting so much of “what is”), is something I know I need to give more attention to.  As a soverign creator of my own experience, I know I can sway this; that there are ways I can encourage more reasons to want to be here, fully in the experience of life, each and every moment. By recognising those times when I am truly present, when I’m more than happy to be here (for instance, I never long to rush time along when I spend time with my husband) I can create more of them; can invite the opportunity of them and focus deeply on them as they are happening, like actively cultivating my higher awareness skills to be fully present by coaxing myself back to the full range of sensations. By being “here” (not “there”) in more moments than not; by seeing more (or at least as much) with my eyes as I do with a camera, I might learn to stay “here” having the experience instead of collecting it all like booty to pour over later. By slowing down, playing a game called “wake up and notice all the details” my body might not need to flag them up in ways that feel so profoundly uncomfortable. By remembering I created all these experiences and that fear is unnecessary, even when the experiences I have are not always what I would have chosen with my conscious mind (and I still might want to tackle them by, say, working to heal symptoms), I can stay in curiosity and gain the benefit of the “bigger picture” far more quickly; which will appeal to my “desire to get somewhere conclusive” mentality right here and right now, within the experiences themselves…and, who knows, I migth even start to enjoy myself at least most of the time. These are thoughts I’ve had many times before but there’s also a new layer of recognition of their truth starting to emerge in me and I’m curious to see where it takes me on the moment-by-precious-moment unfolding of life.


Recommended reading 

Home with God: In a Life That Never Ends – Neale Donald Walsh

Dying to Be Me – Anita Moorjani

Five Steps to a Radically Different View of Reality – Story Waters (this article “happened” to come into my feed this morning right after posting my blog and is on a complimentary thread of exploration)

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Little wren

It was the last morning of our holiday in Italy and I was in the bathroom pretty early, still half asleep, when I heard a dull thud and sharp clicking sound on the window. Through bleary eyes, I realised a tiny bird…a little wren…was throwing herself against the window pane. In between attempts, she sat on the metal grille over the window frame and flapped her wings in that super-rapid vibration of a fledgling that is trying to get attention, a pure current of essential life-force made manifest…before hurling herself against the window pane, as though attempting to fly beyond it…over and over again. At first, before I fully realised what I was seeing, my instinct was to grab my nearby camera and take a photo of the gold-tinged bird in the pool of early morning sunlight but, when she redoubled her original effort to fly through the glass in a way that now seemed like  obsessive compulsion, a self-destructive act that I couldn’t bare to be witness to, I became really concerned. I should add here, the wren is my very particular totem, one which has a tendency to show up at all the most auspicious moments; so I hold a very tender place in my heart for these understated brown birds who, for all their almost-invisibility, sing the very sweetest song of them all.

Then, of course, I realised she must be looking at a reflection in the glass. Normally dark due to a high wall and a bank of trees, this window was in a rare pool of light due to the sun rising acutely to one side and her feathers were all aglow. She must be seeing a mirror image of the foliage behind her…and herself…in the window and trying to get that illusory bird’s attention, to fly to them. What could I do (bear with me…I was still half-asleep) since I couldn’t open the window since, surely, she would fly straight in before she realised the reflection had gone? Then, of course, I realised that if I turned on the electric light, the illusion would just simply disappear.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASure enough, as soon as I flipped the light switch, she immediately stopped her repetitive, self-destructive behaviour and flew to the foliage behind her; crisis over. No longer fixated on what she thought she was seeing as her reality, she began hopping from branch to branch and seemed perfectly recovered. Once I knew she was “over it” and had moved away far enough, I turned off the light and went outside to see if my theory was correct. Sure enough, the window…for just the next few minutes until the sun moved around the side of the house…was like a pane of mirrored glass and I could see myself perfectly in it; no wonder she had been so taken in. Just then, I heard that sweetest of birdsongs; the wren, high up in a tree very close by, trilling out her morning contentment. She was fine.

For the wren there was no trauma, no need to post-mortem any of this. In a timely way, she had reminded me how, when we allow the illusion of “what is” to dissolve, however that comes about, this enables us to reorientate; which we are able to do with surprising rapidity since, beneath all the illusion, we were never off track in the first place. Who we really are never really left us, it has just been waiting for this moment and so we know, immediately, what to do since our innate knowledge takes up its rightful place. In these moments of truth, we find our own place in the sun and remember how to sing our own particular song.

All kinds of realities can look as real as anything as we proceed through our human existence; we are all surrounded by them, every day, but when we keep hurting ourselves because of them, we can be sure they are a fiction of some kind…perhaps one that is so long-running that we don’t even remember anything different. They can be as convincing as anything we have ever seen, made all the more potent through the tug of nostalgia and familiarity (just as the wren, drawn by the magnetic tug of what she thought was the parent or sibling she no longer needed to take care of her, felt compelled to keep trying to get back to them…) When they are a false reality in our experience, and they suddenly dissolve, we don’t go to pieces with that circumstance but, rather, that dissolution is what it takes to end the repeat cycles of self-destruction….perhaps even those repeated across many lifetimes. We stop hurling ourselves and hurtling mindlessly towards things that don’t serve us, in search of what we have fixated upon as “what we need to perpetuate in order to survive”. So, now, we can get on with our far more authentic, fulfilling and healthy lives; ones in which our natural talents get to shine and we are “taken care of” by the way things have a habit of coming to us exactly as and when we need them the most, often in surprising and synchronisistic ways that are blocked when we spend all our time focusing on the illusion. We stop being so fixated on whatever sures up an “old” version of our self; a yesterday version of who we think we are, so we can get on with our most inspired lives, being who we really are, now.

The wren had shown me that when the false light of what was, really, quite illusory and not serving her at all was suddenly disempowered, the true light was able to reassert itself…out there, in the garden, where she now sings her song sweetly. As is sometimes the case before illusory worlds fall apart (as we are seeing happen right now in our world-politics…), the fake light even had to be made more obvious false, stepped up to become even more overtly unnatural than ever, in order for her to “get it” and move on. Meanwhile, the true light was there all along; but she wasn’t paying it any attention until the illusion dissolved. What she was looking “towards” in the reflection was what she had already been in the past; she was all wrapped up in nostalgia and a now-defunct belief system, unable to move forwards. Now, she was able to be what she is in this very moment…more fully and without distraction.  As I heard her song ring out across the garden, I felt this resoundingly…with tingles.

For the umpteenth time, I came to experience how, though not the most auspicious of birds, being so plain and so very tiny, when the wren “speaks” its as though anyone listening is arrested on the spot; like a fanfare that delivers something waiting to be heard. Sometimes, for me, her actions are her voice and I notice them all; and so helpful they have been. Yes, I know I set up this most-particular relationship with this tiny companion to my life so that, whenever I hear her, I always take notice; that it’s a collaboration that enables me to access things that I already know…and so, yet again (at a time I most needed to) I did.


Newly, when I think about the experience I had, I now check in with myself…

  • What panes of glass am I throwing myself against today…?
  • Why do I perpetuate these illusions when they clearly don’t serve me (or make me happy)?
  • When will I stop (now!) and let the alternate, more authentic, chosen reality reassert itself?
  • What have I been missing that was there, unnoticed, all along (cue appreciation)?
  • How well-supported and abundantly provided for can I notice myself to be…in this very moment, without resorting to fear mindsets and learned behaviours to grasp “backwards” at what was?
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Phases of the Moon

I don’t think I ever made as much sense of myself as when I started working with the phase of the moon that I was born under. A fairly newborn waxing crescent, living in the shadows of the “dark” phases and yes, the confirmed introvert and shyer-away from collective behaviours and yet I am also “of” the growth phase of the moon and that is what I am primarily talking about today as I share this brief post (I could write copiously on this topic but I will leave Steven Forest to explain all in his excellent The Book of the Moon). Even before SF suggested it, I began running comparisons of all the people I could think of and their moon phase and, as with the Out of Bounds Moon trait that I wrote about previously, I found super-accurate correlations. Of course, as Forest reasserts at the start of every new chapter, a whole load of other factors come into the way that a person’s moon phase plays out but there is something remarkably consistent and assertive, underlying all that, which seems to correspond with this moon-phase aspect, right down to the very precise degree of wholeness the moon has reached at the time of birth.

By wholeness, I don’t mean that a person born under the full moon is any more “whole” than someone who is not…but they certainly tend to be very much more manifest as a “human being” with all that entails, materially speaking and in terms of outlook. As for myself, on the other-hand, I have always tended to feels like I am hanging in here by the very merest thread of a connection to physical reality; one which wavers and wobbles in the slightest breeze…and I’ve always felt more familiar, somehow, with the unmanifest reality that lies unseen yet, for me, very minutely felt. I’ve found similar traits amongst other waxing crescent people, of whom I have “accidentally” gathered a small but meaningful collection in my life (one being my husband), along with more than a handful of early waxing gibbous types (those born just after the first quarter point), a phase out of which I seem to have hand-picked my very closest female allies across a lifetime, including my mother. My immediate instinct, on realising this, was that I “chose” them because they were a more worldly version of my waxing trait, capable of showing me the ropes, somewhat, when it comes to being “me” in a more manifest sense (all of them have been more successful than I at bringing their esoteric side out into the world, in practical, socially acceptable, collaborative and even commercially successful ways).

Though I have formed meaningful relationships with many other people born under other moon phases (SF’s system works with 8 precise segments), those other relationships have not run deep at the esoteric level and have, rather, served a more worldly purpose to me (I see in retrospect), as practical partnerships and friends that helped “get me out into the world” at times of my life when it felt important to do so. I laughed to see the segment of the moon immediately following the full moon described as “The Human” in SF’s book; yes, I have had several of those human friends and they have been good for me in a variety of ways. However, I notice how I feel less of a kinship and thus less at ease with these people than I do with my waxing friends and, as I have increasingly allowed myself to dive the depths of “who I really am” in the broadest sense, those friendships have largely fallen by the wayside or become more perfunctory while my waxing friends persist in ways that feel collaborative at the deepest level.

One of the key traits that we waxers share, and particularly identify with, is the “growth” urge that the waxing phase is all about. Having that burning passion to manifest something is what gets us up in the morning; like a relentless desire to break the soil-surface of our current paradigm and push our shoot skyward towards the sun…So, akin to how foliage in our gardens must feel as it receives Nature’s cue to pull back now, that shift in moon phase from waxing to waning can feel for us just like when the midsummer solstice is over and the days become undeniably, shorter, the urge less towards growth than it is towards bearing fruit and turning inwards. Likewise, we feel the phases of life that carry the energy of being “beyond the full moon” as an alienation of sorts…or we do if we lose that sense of growth-purpose that is so inbuilt at our core. In fact, I suspect the evolutionary gift of learning to work with this phase is the potential to over-ride the seasons to become more steady as the growth phase that we are, regardless of outer circumstances, which involves swimming against the tide and takes the deepest kind of inner work; the kind that accepts “other” as self, ceasing the prior paradigm of resistance and separation.

Another theme keeps pressing on me as I dive this matter deeper and it’s the topic of feeling thwarted. Of all the times in my life that have felt most (self) destructive it’s those when I have allowed myself to feel thwarted, cut off in my prime, shut down and not welcomed or wanted in whatever growth project I have been putting out into the world. I see that same thwarted theme in my waxing gibbous mother’s life; her career “shut down” as soon as she got married, her self-expression “shut down” by so many people (even my father) who failed to truly grasp where she was coming from, even when it came from such powerful love and her purpose “shut down” when all her children flew the nest far and wide, leaving the domestic construct of which she was the undisputed matriarch in total disarray. The more thwarted she became, the more she grew herself instead until, when the weight became a serious problem because of diabetes, the sudden need to lose it left that growth urge nowhere to go…and so she grew a cancer in her liver instead. Heaven only know where her powerful growth urge (and it really was formidable!) could have taken her in an alternate life and so the gift is the seeing of that, even in hindsight. It’s a version of the “growth” theme I’ve noticed more than once in the case of a powerfully creative waxing gibbous person and I would be so curious to see the results of a study comparing types of cancer with natal phases of the moon. As ever, there is always oportunity in that circumstance if viewed from the highest perspective.

For the waxing crescent, I may be over-egging my own experience but, I suspect the shadow tendency is more a case of responding to “feeling thwarted”  by acting like the shoot that got scalded by the midday sun. So we recoil, wounded and now over-sensitive (often with nerve issues or anxiety, super-sensitivities, chronic health conditions that necessitate a solitary life and so on…perhaps also skin issues including cancer), sometimes pulling back even further into the dark moon than where we started from. So, in my own case, I have noticed that I have periods of time when I definitely feel and act more like a waning than a waxing crescent; wanting, almost, to “get out of here” and have nothing more to do with the manifest existence that makes up my painful and frustrating human life. I suspect there’s a certain ease and pragmatism when it comes to considering our own physical demise, for a very dark-phase moon person, too; perhaps because we are so familiar of what lies on the other side of our death and remember so clearly that it is not an end. The result is that we can back-track more easily than a waxing gibbous; can do that slippery u-turn and pull back into our cave when the going doesn’t feel good since physical survival isn’t more important to us than our broadest level of comfort; a distinction which mostly prevents us from making growth into a very obvious physical thing, to do with health or body mass (though it can, from time to time). We would often rather pull back to lick our wounds than keep on pushing forwards into a wall of resistance and remain more intact in that deep-dark place than is relatable to more manifest beings to whom spending much time on their own or in social isolation is a terrible prospect.

Perhaps it’s so much harder for the waxing gibbous to pull back in like that when the going gets tough, having got their growth momentum started, and so they battle on against all the resistance they are encountering in the world (to good effect or perhaps at the cost of their health) or divert that growth mechanism into the propagation of the “wrong thing” within their own bodies or personal lives. This might be something counter-helpful or even destructive which grows and grows as an obstacle in their life, in spite of their innate optimism, which only confuses them, though if they gain the overview and work with this obstacle in all-new ways, drawn from the well of their waxing momentum, the healing that can occur in such situations can be profound and even groundbreaking. Us waxing crescents always seems to have a stronger sense of having other “escape” options when the going gets tough (being that much closer to the “beginning” of the dark moon…like we have hardly stepped in through the manifest doorway of what it is to be human). Those choices, which we allow for recuperation and a certain amount of reconfiguration, might include living on the fringes of what is deemed “normal” or seldom going out into community; behaviours we feel we need, some or even most of the time, in order to survive the times when when our growth periods thrust us forwards, which tends to happen in spurts. And yet that ever-persistent growth urge, from within that choice to hide away, can feel like the very thing that both keeps us from going nuts, by grounding us into some sort of manifest, collaborative and relatable existence (at least part of the time), but also what makes us more crazy than ever; because we just have to keep on creating, striving, growing, opening…as though we really have no choice in the matter. Though we hardly know why, we just have to keep on being optimistic, imagining new outcomes, forging forwards with new projects that we birth from somewhere so bizarre and outside of most people’s concept of what is “normal”  or “relatable” that we are more likely than every to be rebuffed in our efforts….but we keep on dusting ourselves down and starting over anyway. It’s who we are and how we are, and knowing our moon phase in more depth has the potential to help us reconcile this otherwise bizarre behavour.

So, back forth, back and forth we go…only wishing that we could take the easier route of becoming the all-or-nothing hermit (which is much-more the territory of the waning crescent) but something in us keeps making us “put out” into the world, only to get our feathers burned and to recoil, feeling oh-so frustrated and weary again. This can feel even more tricky for us once we pass the “full moon” phase of our lives, at mid-life, and start to feel that waning momentum building in our very biology. A sense of “what is the point” seems to tug us contrary to ourselves more than ever before now and the body can feel oh-so tired out, especially if we have struggled with relentless health issues for a very long time (again, I can’t help wondering if chronic nervous-exhaustion-type health issues are the natural domain of the waxing crescent). We navigate the very hinterland of human experience but we are also here to grow and there’s no avoiding that by staying where we would rather be…in the dark, out of sight. Our more comfortable “later life” experiences will come (I suspect) from accepting this dichotomy and working with it to the best of our ability; allowing both the creative-growth aspect and the private-contemplative aspect to coexist comfortably side-by-side…and for me, that’s still work in progress. We will each get to work with this theme in our own special way, coloured by other influences in our experience but this feels like the basis of the waxing-crescent experience, wherever we happen to find our most comfortable expression of it. Perhaps my extremely slow-moving, Out of Bounds Moon makes me an extreme case of a waxing crescent; thrust into being far more abstract than most people yet driven almost mad with the need to keep asserting or offering something of what I have in case it might be of use to other people. This is the essence of the pain-pleasure paradox of my passion for writing; damned if I do, damned if I don’t, so I swing back and forth, wondering why doing it feels so compelling when my audience is so niche and generally unresponsive. Yet I keep on offering abstract bits and pieces of myself forwards in case I happen to “see” something  in my own experience that is important for someone else to hear as a reminder, as they intersect my words with their own experiences (as these synchnonicities tend to work). Perhaps this is the full extent of what I can expect from myself when it comes to co-creation; and yet, maybe its time I stopped knocking it so hard since it seems to be very typical of the waxing-crescent’s way.

Perhaps this post holds hope of being relatable only to other waxing moon types and, even then, only those who are eager to plunge the depths of the topic starting, I would recommend, with Forrest’s book (though I suspect it comes with the turf that we are the very types most likely to deep-dive this kind of material). As with the way I plunged into the Nine Waves of Creation (with which I glean numerous cross-references; working with 27 day moon cycles is not so very different to how I continue to “work” with the 36 day rhythms of the Ninth Wave…), this territory is where we tend to feel most at home. Our playground is a world of overviews and archetypes more so than people and things; so this is where we find we already have our driver’s license and that we already half-know our way around as soon as we glean a new stretch of road opening up for us to explore. Yet it can be a long, lonely and misunderstood road “being” a waxing crescent (which is the ony moon phase I have any real authority to talk about since it is mine) and this new understanding of myself, relative to the moon, has been one of the most profound mechanisms for helping me make some sort of sense out of what previously felt the least fathomable about myself. Knowing this about my moon phase doesn’t determine who I am or where I’m headed (though I have found the progressed moon phases of my life so startlingly accurate that I feel compelled to bear them in mind as a springboard to a deeper understanding of, at least, the rhythms of what lies ahead…) but, rather, it helps me to gain more clarity and overview, perhaps a better foothold, as I launch myself onwards, than I ever had before; which is the very strong point of Evolutionary Astrology. Worked with as it is put out there by players such as Steven Forrest, this material contributes to a deeper understanding of our individual evolutionary potential, as a tool of higher understanding from a view “way out there”, (you could say) as high as the moon. It’s a reminder of how we set things up on arrival in this particular human vehicle; a clue to how we intended to work with our human opportunity in a particular way in order to gain a certain amount of evolutionary benefit out of it all; yes, even the stuff that feels really hard or more than a little bit off track. We can lose touch with the thread of “who we meant to be” as the cloth of life becomes ever more wooly with the friction of circumstance and it can be so useful to reconnect with that most pristine of golden fibres; the one that led us to want to be here at this place and time in our collective evolutionary story, contributing our all-important piece to the tapestry. It can provide the very mid-life review that helps keep us working to our strengths and playing down our apparent weaknesses, owning parts of ourselves that might otherwise have felt like unhelpful foibles or even downright flaws in our own perfection. When we see ourselves “by design”, as though looking down at our original blueprint, it can be a wake-up call and a motivation boost; not as a prediction device or any other kind of old-style limitation structure but as a springboard to reaching new heights.

In fact, working with this material has actually helped me to feel more at home in my own body at a very-crucial time for me in terms of needing all the renewed motivation I can get. Its helped me to get over some of the “givens” about the way I am as a waxing crescent, and stop fighting them, such as the dark phase traits that keep me pulled back from too much social engagement or “taking part” in life. For me, it’s as though the moon is no longer just this big white glowing rock “out there” but, rather, that it’s now internalized and fully integrated within me, “as” a working aspect of me (along with my sun aspect, which I am also working with somewhat differently in light of Forrest’s book). This is almost exactly the transition in moon-relationship that Annie Sennov talks about in her Golden Age, Golden Earth book (a complex discussion with which I don’t fully resonate though I can relate to parts of it, including the newly individualised nature of what the moon has now become to me compared to what it more generally represented to me, externally, “before”). Yet it’s almost funny how this process came about for me (as she predicted it would, post Aura-Transformation) through my chance encounter with Forrest’s book and the way I felt so magnetically drawn to study the material as deeply as I have. As with all these approaches, there’s an inherent danger of intellectualising who you think you are or where you are at; and this is best avoided in favour of a soft, integrated, intuitive approach to what feels useful to know. Below is the review I shared on Goodreads for The Book of the Moon, which will give you a further taster of my response to it and why I recommend it to anyone that is curious (not just astrologers!), should they be interested in taking the plunge. It’s a wonderfully accessible read; compulsive too and, who knows, may offer you that whole other layer of self-understanding that was previously so elusive but which drops in the missing piece of the puzzle (which is how it feels to me).

Review of The Book of the Moon with numerous attached quotes that will give you a preview of some of the themes discussed above and more.

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Like willow

As an energy structure, the willow’s trunk has a different arrangement of, you could imagine this as, energetic capillaries which makes it more open, less structured on the inside, the “crack” brittleness for which it is known being only on the outside to give it form. Within, it remains an open system analogous to an energy body where the chakras are free flowing as one. This is how its famed quality of bending in the wind, of being soft enough to weave and curve into baskets, is made possible. Through this uninterrupted, fast-moving open system, the roots draw telluric energy up from the ground and into the branches and leaves in its familiar fountain-arrangement at a rate that is more like fast-flowing water than other trees. The leaves, having no barbs or jaggedness but being, rather, long and smooth, are like a water-slide to any rain water that comes down. When those leaves break the water’s fall to earth, they make contact without any undue friction or rub; and water is the master of taking on the energetic qualities of that which it makes contact with and delivering that frequency on to its next destination. Thus the water takes on the as near-as-possible pure telluric, yin, energy of the earth and carries it back down to earth, to the root system and the surrounding ground or anything that should happen to be positioned beneath it, and probably somewhat broader than that, into the water chain, as a particular frequency of energy that we don’t see enough of in our modern lives. This frequency is feminine in its quality and equates to healing or pure “beingness”, coming into us like a soothing balm.

There is another source of energy, more masculine in nature, which comes “in”, as it were, from the sun and the broader cosmos. When this interacts, say, with another kind of tree or a human being, it is typical for that organism to “meet” it half way with a “ladder” of internal structures made up of capillaries or cells (and, we can take that deeper, chakras) with slow-moving transitions between them which have been organised to a blueprint modified by our creative intention…the intention to “do” something. Such an intention underlies whatever we happen to manifest, whether it turns out looking like something we envisioned or planned to happen or not! This is the yang energy at work, fully required for the creative act to become manifest as object or event since the rub between masculine and feminine creates the spark that brings something into being. It is the same mechanism of friction by which electricity is generated and it is, naively described, a sort of marital arrangement between yin and yang at the point where they meet as their most opposite qualities, sometimes (though not always) seeming like a hotbed of conflict, yet always creating something out of that “rub”. Thus, we tend to create within ourselves, our life circumstances and environments many areas of such intersection and rub, which become the landing lights of the cosmic yang, guiding it home; like flagposts saying “over here, over here, we need more electric action here!” So it is drawn most directly to such places, to intersect with the yin-oriented telluric energy that comes up from the earth, and together, in these areas of our lives where friction occurs, we create outcomes through the “marriage” of masculine and feminine; manifesting a kinetic force that makes things happen in a sequence of events.

In the human system, we tend to draw down this masculine force though our crown and down into the area of the solar plexus where it can most spaciously meet with the upcoming telluric energy. So they stir together in the hot-pot cauldron of our middle, where they can so often manifest the kind of over-wrought anxiety and ill-health that is the outcome of lives made too full of the kind of “rub” that leaves us paranoid, wired and overworked. Whilst the meeting of these energies is desirable, since it is what allows for manifestation to take place, we can allow these particular rub areas to take over and draw endless amounts of that “doing” energy into ourselves at the expense of our equally important “beingness”, which is what knows how to nurture, repair and keep us in the flow of divine inspiration. One without the other looks like sickness and there is an epidemic sweeping us as more and more emphasis is given to one kind of energy without the balancing effect of the other. Sometimes, the feminine aspect does not even make it as far as the heart chakra before it stalls at a lower point and so we become top-heavy in our masculine qualities and our hearts become brittle or prone to crack open explosively, having not been tended to for far too long by this softer, more intuitive, aspect. Conversely, when the feminine is able to move freely all the way through the chakras and the masculine does likewise, they can integrate aspects of each other in boundary-pushing creative ways and merge fully to make a complete union of themselves at our higher heart, which can utterly transform our experience.

In order to heal, we sometimes need the deep, telluric energy that is a manifestation of the feminine aspect to come up through our “roots” and to flush through he whole of our system without any of the rub-factor that generates the circumstancial furniture of our lives being used to grab onto it for creative purposes in attempted merger with the masculine aspect. At such times, even the gentlest of meetings with the masculine can feel all too much and we long (at some level that we often fail to acknowledge) to just surrender to the flow and let everything slip out of our white-knuckle grip. This can resemble a sort of death as we stop all but the most fundamental activity to just “be” in its purest sense; when, really, it is a rebirth. Like flushing out an old plumbing system that has started to hiccough and vibrate whenever it is in use, our whole energy system requires that one-way flush to occur, and for this to be repeated for as long as it takes, for deep and lasting healing to take place. Once we have re-mastered its free flowing emergence, we can integrate it more fully than ever before.

We do that, to an extent, when we meditate or stand by a river, or with our bare feet on the soft earth, or go on certain holidays or an actual retreat…whatever we do to pause frenetic lives that consist of always thinking we have to have an action plan in every waking moment; we have to let even that go and just allow unstructured emergence to occur. So challenging to achieve; since the urge to “do something with” the beguiling soft energy that starts to flood through our newly opened energy system in these circumstances can become very hard to resist, so we start to plot and plan how we will utilise this new creative insight…and there we have it, the moment has already slipped away! So, for example, we sit meditating and we go soft in our minds, experiencing a huge wave of new clarity or inspiration coming into us from a different source to our normal well-troden route of the mind…and so, now, we can’t wait to “make something or it”, to take our treasure and make it more manifest by sharing or creating something from it; as I know the feeling of oh-so well. Because of this propensity to “act” on the first sign of inspiration, we often don’t allow telluric energy to rise fully through our chakras and so it only gets so far; often only as far as our most “stuck point”, where our biggest area of “rub” resides so, yes, typically that is the solar plexus, or the heart, maybe even only as far as the sacral chakra where the yang comes down to meet it and create whatever it is that feels most obstructive in our lives, coloured by that energy centre’s preoccupations. The yin gets stuck there, the yang seems to want to oppress it and there is no movement in either direction, which shows up in our lives and our health. Then these patterns of behaviour become learned and so we find we are still recreating them, and from them, even many years after doing what we thought of as “the work”, such as meditation, to make things flow.

This is, in part, because the urge to have both masculine and feminine in union within us can feel so pressing, on any terms, that we will agree to them rendezvousing wherever they feel most comfortable to meet or have made their usual, habitual, often most “secret” (as in outside our conscious awareness) place for this to occur, and not always driven by highest aspirations.  In otherwords, we have accepted second best or a poor substitute for the full merger of masculine and feminine that is really posible if we make room for this to occur. This is how the beginnings of health issues get started and then made manifest in the most hidden corners of our bodies (or in our world at large); they are the outcome of the distorted creation urge of an energy-organism that has forgotten how to be even-handed in the way that it draws energy in from two very different angles, both of which are equally necessary to its short term wellbeing and long term transformation. We gobble up everything that comes to us through our heads but we forget what is designed to meet it half way; and so we sometimes have to stop all else to relearn how to let this forgotten aspect through from where it resides, right beneath our feet from deep in the earth.

WillowSo, the willow reminds us how to just let the feminine earth-energy up, through and out the other side without engagement; just for a time, until we know how to recognise when it is occurring again (so we can use it much more) and to allow it to rise higher than the limits of where it has been hitting a ceiling at all of our stuck points until now. It’s about seeing if we can draw it all the way through so that it goes up the very crown of us and comes out of the top like a fountain of energy that immerses and bathes us in creative potential to a whole other degree than what we are typically used to. Its about emergence, not achievement or domination over something (which drive so many of our creation impulses) and this is what feels so unique when you are in the experience. And it’s not that the masculine aspect withdraws to allow the feminine to take over but that the masculine, as it were, pulls back to the edges (like the bark of a willow tree) to become the vessel in which the feminine can fully explore her potential, which is all to do with birth and renewal. An essential part of this cycle is that part of it is deeply immersed beneath the surface of the earth; a return to the dark places before rising again…and again…and again…, an innate yet, to some extent, forgotten process of rebirth and transformation; one which we constantly see demonstrated by seeds that are buried deep in the earth before emerging as new growth only to return once more to the earth in order to begin again. We have become so fixated upon what we see as the death part of this process that we have forgotten about the regeneration that goes on in that deep dark soil.

If there is some part of us that fears “losing it” (in both senses of the phrase) when we allow this telluric energy to flow so freely through us…as though some part of us wants to  grab it and hold onto it as “posession”; but also becuase we fear it will unleash some deep, dark, unruly part of us that we must keep in order…we can be reminded that by letting it go all the way, it will only return to us tenfold. Just as the energy that the willow has drawn all the way up its trunk, into its highest branches and down into the tip of every most-undefined leaf falls back to the ground like happy tears  as rain takes on its frequency, like a self-replenishing fountain of energy,  we see with out mind’s eye a torus at work…for the circuit is made perpetually complete as that water lands on the earth only to repeat as it delivers the energy to the soil and back up the root once again. Even without rain and when there is merest breath of air to make soft music in its fronds, this circuit of renewal continues for the tree. Far from being the non-event that it might seem it is THE event, the very self-renewing energy source of the universe at work, made manifest as a reminder that we too can do this; we are fully equipped. Anything that happens to plug into that system, by the lucky chance of being beneath that tree, can feel it as the mirrored recharge taking place in their own thirsty body, which also knows just what to do with these complementary aspects of creation, which merge in them, and as them. Its energizing effect is somewhat like standing beneath a waterfall; and by touching such a tree with wide open intentions, we can feel that healing energy come into our own circuitry and become the agent of resetting whatever has become most distorted, blocked or unhealthy in our field. We remember, for once, not to create plans, opinions, drama, assumptions, demands, expectations, excuses, reasons, thoughts, words or even moods if we can avoid it…but how to just let it all go soft and come up and through us freely, as it wants to, without structures to hold onto it; since this is not about ownership now but about free energy, straight from source. The emergence that happens, then, becomes manifest as us, as we are reminded how.

Over many hours afterwards, we might feel the emotional release of many years of deep blockage become soft and gently shift, no more than loose silt on the river bed now, having been reminded of their impermanence in the cycle of life. No longer fixated with holding structure, these most-persistent ailments and traumas can gently surrender back into the cycle of reuse as we feel our chakras join forces to flush out what is not ours, becoming one in their consensus of flow, watched over, without construct, by the higher heart. From this zero point, we get to choose how we design the next structures of intention that will go out to greet the incoming energetics of the universe…as we surely will, at some point; once we are fully ready to start creating again. For now, just allowing all to be soft, unattached, unlabeled, undefined, no action necessary, no need to share a thing with anyone as coherent thought, not even ourselves, is all there is. The perfection of this unfamiliar state of pure beingness is allowed to swell and fill up every minutest space of us. The sweet cathartic release of tears to the ground is perhaps what the willow is best known for, having shown us how release our own.

Written from a pool of deep inner remembrance following a powerful encounter with a very substantial weeping willow tree in an ancient churchyard and the cathartic experience I had immediately following that. I woke from my meditative slumber to find this post already intact and wanting to be shared (but only afer I had surrendered to it fully for a very long time…); I haven’t over-thought it.


Additional thoughts…being the willow tree in “real life”

In the above post I talked about the willow tree and what it “told” me about how the soft flow of the feminine can be drawn up in and through the physical form as a source of great healing and inspiration. I also talked about how the masculine “steps aside” to allow this to happen, forming, as it were, the sides of a vessel that holds space for that healing process to take place. When we only get so far in this healing process, because life’s harsh realities seem to come in to meet it, halting it in its flowing and cleansing process at whatever stuck point or “stop sign” we have created inside of ourselves (a sort-of point of perpetual resistance; often, but not always, found somewhere around the area of the solar plexus) this half-way house of having introduced more flow into our lives and yet only getting so far can feel agonising like we are being torn in two. It can also manifest as an array of illnesses. It’s like we find ourselves trapped in a catch-twenty-two where, in proportion to how soft and flux we try to be in order to encourage the consciousness-expanding, heart-opening process that we are giving our all, the outside walls of our existence only become more brittle and eggshell-fragile, or imalleable like a clunking suit of armour (this varies from one person to the next). So there we are, at one level, blissing-out on ever more expansive perspectives that allow us to take in the far bigger view of who we are and the vast array of experiential options that we now know are available whilst, on the other, we never felt more limited or even trapped by “real” circumstance.

I can offer two scenarios to demonstrate versions of this. One is my own, where in proportion to how “evolved” and in flow I feel, my body only seems to be in ever more stiffness and pain that holds me back in what I really want to do and how I would like to enjoy my life. The other is my husband’s scenario where, in proportion to how deeply he dives the yogic path and his deep longing to live a very different lifestyle, the one that has made him a slave to earning a steady income and being “the responsible, reliable, relatable” business person fits like a tighter and less comfortable “suit” than ever; its mechanisms and bureaucracy more ill-fitting by the day, even while there are still “softer” parts of the job that he genuinely loves. In my own case, I see how the body has had to step up to a task of holding me in some sort of shape against all odds, as I have surrendered nearly everything I thought I was to the process of exploring the hidden, most amorphous depths of who I really am and this has only put more strain on me, physically, than my body can easily cope with in relatively short time, it seems. In his, the requirement for one of us to hold things together so we could raise a family and keep a roof over our heads through all these years of inwardly dismantling everything we thought we knew into molecules in order to virtually begin again from the consciousness roots up has put even more stress on him than would otherwise have been there by this point in his career had he not “woken” to other perspectives. So, whilst this concept of the masculine aspect serving as vessel into which the feminine can pour herself sounds wonderful as the abstract ideal, it can prove wearing and almost devastatingly destructive in the reality…especially at the point when you have got very far along the route of this new dynamic having “held the fort” for some times and still no ultimate breakthrough in outer reality, apparently, near at hand. Both of us have felt very much on our last legs lately; him with workload pressures that don’t feel like a fit with what he really envisions for his life at this stage and me with a body that contradicts all the progress I feel I have made inwardly by producing ever more external pain and limitation to deal with. If both of these stuck-points seem analogous to where we are as a planet right now; that is, more expanded and aware than we have ever been yet never more tied-up the knots of heinous circumstance, then I suspect that is no coincidence. Collectively, I think we probably all have our version of this playing out right now; and the way we handle that, the very breakthroughs we make, will feed back into the collective evolution that is well underway. If that also feels like a moment of the collective breath being held awaiting the outcome then that is also no coincidence; and we are each playing our part via our own personal evolution through “ordinary” circumstances like these.

Back to that willow tree; I was shown how when the feminine rises up up up past all these internal blockages made out of past-trauma and old beliefs, and keeps on rising until it has gone all the way through to the crown, something extraordinary happens. Like a cup overflowing, the “liquid” of the feminine overspills the edges of the “cup” and suddenly cascades all around the edges, like a fountain or yes, once again, like the weeping willow tree with its sweeping fonds of smooth foliage encouraging the process to keep continuing, round and around like a torus. Once, lets say, water is drawn up through the roots from the earth and up up up through the trunk into those curving branches and then down to the tips of those leaves that sweep the ground, as we see all the more viscerally when the rain comes down and drips from them like tears of relief, bringing its energetic load back down into the soft filter of the earth and to those very same roots as before ready to begin the process again, we have our analogy. When the feminine aspect gets to the point that it not only fills the vessel but overspills it, the masculine aspect that has been working so hard to hold things together until now is now is fully encased, you could say embraced, by the female aspect which now holds and cushions it; supporting him where no time ago he was supporting her (reference to gender is no more than a writing device in this context; these two aspects are universal to all of us, regardless of our sex). With this, the reciprocation is complete, wholeness is achieved, healing takes place and transformation occurs; no need for recap or to postmortem what happened “before” since all that is done with now, everything “comes right” somehow, and with no need for recompense, apology or explanation. It might have looked like break-down was occurring for a while so we are taken into the depths of our fear but the result it that a new reality has been entered into where all that came before is wiped clean.

This, in its way, solves the paradox of how the feminine aspect is at once that which is deep, dark and hidden within the earth and yet is also the all-that-is aspect of the universe, way beyond label and form. We see, in this analogy, how she can be both of these, simultaneously, and how that which supports her is at once cradled by her; is found both within and without her, as the masculine is also to her. Once we get this arrangement sorted out in ourselves, it can have such a profound effect upon our own heart, our nervous system, our emotional and physical health, our longevity; in short, it transforms us. Once we roll that out into our daily lives, our interactions, choices, the way we handle situations, where we place our focus, everything we are about, it transforms that too but it requires us to be trusting enough to allow that absolute softening to everything we once believed to occur… Unsurprisingly, once we start doing this en masse, remarkable things start to heal, shift and transform in our outer world, rippling out like a healing balm to influence all aspects of human existence. Keeping to the analogy of the willow tree, it’s as though its boughs stretched out even wider than ever, like a giant healing fountain that we all get to stand beneath like a veritable tree of life that has been reactivated.


Posted in Consciousness & evolution, Divine feminine, divine masculine, Health & wellbeing, Menu, Nature, Personal Development, Recovery chronic illness, Spirituality, Universe | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Good years without end

A Good Year 1I have a stash of films I go to when I’m simply in a good mood and want to know what I’m getting into; well, we probably all do. One of these, watched I dont know how many times, is A Good Year, directed by Ridley Scott staring Russel Crowe. For a long time, I didn’t really know what this film has that makes me keep wanting to “go there” but if you could bottle it, I would probably have taken a sip every day. Good analogy, as it turns out, as its set in a vineyard located just outside Bonnieux, a location we were fortunate enough to drive past (we didn’t quite have the courage to knock on the door for an impromptu viewing as many people do; we’re British don’t you know…) and in the town of Gordes which we stopped in, last time we were in Provence.

I love its quirk, its humour, its irreverance, its soundtrack. I also know that a fairly obvious draw is its lighting, its scenery and its flashes of a honey-lit Provence garden filmed so close-up and sensorarily that you could be there amidst the buzz of insects and the brush of leaves against the face as sun beams bounce off water. The way the camera pans to capitalise on light effect is exactly the way I work with gardens as a photographer; looking into the sun and the most boundary-stretching edges of where form dissolves back into fuzzy molecules so these scenes are pure poetry in motion for me.

A Good Year 4So, I watched it again last night, being in that kind of mood, and it didn’t disappoint, feeding my dreams with golden vistas. It was only today…perhaps because I have known this film for such a long time that it predates any knowledge I had of Welsh legend…that the penny finally dropped that it is really the same plot-line as the story of Elen, or Helen, of the Ways, from Ancient Welsh myth (fragments of which have been preserved in the manuscripts known as the Welsh Triads and Mabinogion; many other versions exist – see recommended reading below) brought into the twenty-first century – more on that ancient story thread story in a moment.

In the film, the world weary and cynical (though he doesn’t yet know it) city investment boy Maximilian is forced to drop his worldly affairs to return to Provence, where he spent idyllic childhood summers with his Uncle Henry, because his long-time-not-seen uncle has just died and left him the property; a chateau with a vineyard. On first arriving there, Max is typically abrasive, hurried, unconscious and, mostly, very eager to sign the legal documents, sell up and leave again…but then, of course, he meets “the girl”, Fanny (who, it turns out, he has met before, as a child, though he doesn’t yet remember her or even realise he had, in effect, “lost her” or that what she represents is “missing” from his life) and something akin to magic happens. She is, of course, the divine feminine come vividly to life as a French goddess on a bicycle with a fiery temper and a derriere that has people falling into fountains. I won’t ruin the whole plot by picking over it but at first their relationship goes badly – a literal crash head-on – since this girl is no push-over and it’s only at the end that she finally accepts him back into “the garden” of her affections when she announces “it is only now that I recognise you, Max”. You could say she really meant the “true” Maximilian or his essence, beneath all the battle scars of his hard-nosed, earnings driven, power-wielding yet forever watching-your-own back kind of life. Of course, by now, he has ditched the job, even the dream partnership on a plate, to go back to “the garden” and be with this woman, at the now fruitful chateau, forever. The vines are restored, the family unit has come together in surprising ways, everyone is happy…and the sun continues to shine on those golden vistas. There is such a sense of homecoming, of reconciliation and of restoration, you could even say transformation. As ever with Ridley Scott, the message seems trivial but runs deeper than you know.

“And at the mouth of the river he beheld a castle, the fairest that man ever saw, and the gate of the castle was open, and he went into the castle. And in the castle he saw a fair hall, of which the roof seemed to be all gold, the walls of the hall seemed to be entirely of glittering precious gems, the doors all seemed to be of gold.” (The Mabinogion: The Dream of Macsen Welding.)

In the middle of this plot, there is a part where Max is “forced” to return to London to go back into the never-ending battle of his career affairs in the hard-nosed and cut-throat world of the London stock-market where the word “holiday” never gets mentioned for fear loosing your place in the pecking order. As these two world’s intersect, it’s so obvious how Canary Wharf, with its sharply contrasted chrome and glass, is filmed through a cold grey-blue filter compared to the amber warmth of the nature-filled Provence scenes. This is where I’m going to insert a reminder, for anyone not familiar with the story, of Elen and the Roman emperor Magnus Maximus (yes the name is even the same as the film), known in local texts as Macsen. In that legend, known as “The Dream of Macsen“, he dreams of a woman who fills him up with such a strong presence and experience of love but, when he wakes to find it was just a dream, such sadness and sense of loss that he sends a handful of messengers off far and wide to look for such a woman. When one reports back that they think they have found her, he drops his worldly concerns and sets sail for a far corner of Wales where he meets Elen, the most beautiful woman he could ever have imagined, from his dreams and falls for her on sight. Elen draws him into her natural world, but only as long as he enter such a world as an equal with her and in full cognisance of the true nature of sovereignty; that is, to understand that your power is equal only to how much you respect Nature as its  custodian or guardian, not as a ruler over, or plunderer of, it. When you do so, the land remains abundant, water continues to flows and balance in all things is easily maintained; and when the masculine aspect returns to this knowledge, which has been in the safe keeping of the feminine across all of the rocky years in between, harmony is fully restored and healing swiftly takes place…a story for our times. In return, Macsen brings his male expertise to bear by building castles and a network of roads between them, uniting the land, at her request. Seven years into this idyllic outcome, Macsen is called back to Rome on urgent business, the matter of a war to be fought to keep dominion over his lands (just as Max gets called back to London to defend his position), so of course the spell is temporarily broken…but only until he decides to give all that up to return to the natural idyl that awaits him with Elen, his true love and his equal, to live out the rest of their days in balance and harmony.

A Good Year 3Back to the film…at its end  (apologies for any plot spoilers but if you have got this far, I have already blown holes in your suspense) we see Max and Fanny sit opposite one another, him the far softer-edged version of himself, as though all his cares and abrasive features have been slipped off with his shoes at the door. You can see how he now treads softly on the world, calibrated to the pace of this place, which he finds “intoxicating”, having entered it on her terms…one of these being that he now speak the language of this place; so we see the so-confident Max, once the wielder of the kind of sharp words that macheted through everyone on his path, slowly relearning his entire vocabulary from scratch in French, the language of love.

The additional play on the fact that Russel Crowe was previously known as Roman Emperor, Maximius (a fictional character) in the film Gladiator, also directed by Scott, could be coincidence but seems too pronounced a one to be so…surely; or is the world of uncanny synchronicities just so tied up in a bow that these things do happen “by pure chance”? I tend to suspect that Scott is familiar with Elen and Macsen from the Mabinogian and was having a private smile to himself as he recalibrated the story into this modern version, casting an actor who is perhaps best-known for playing a Roman Emperor as a clue for incurable dot-joiners such as I am. However, when you read the Wikipedia entry for how A Good Year came about, its story written by life-in-Provence memoire writer Peter Mayle, how it was then tweaked into a more dynamic screenplay, the way actors were chosen through a set of happy cross-overs (like the domestically settled Russell Crowe seeking a more gentle film to work on than the bigger, more world-weary plots he had always done before…yet another sync with the film’s plotline), seems like nothing but a series of happy coincidences. I still find that alignment of factors just astonishing, either way; as though this “story” was quite determined to be retold at this time in our history and so a series of cogs intersected to make it happen just the way that it did, and for all it was never been a big box-office success . In fact, I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s responded “yes, I’ve seen it ” when I’ve asked across all the years since I added it to my favourite stash (it was released in 2006). For me, like any good vintage, its just seems to get better year on year and, perhaps, has yet to be fully appreciated; becoming more mellow yet full-bodied and, yes, more relevant with time.

You just know at the end that Max is in for much more than just a good year; more like, a good rest of his life, returned to his most idyllic domain to live in perfect harmony with this woman and more-than equal who will take no nonsense from him; the masculine aspect returned, disarmed, healed and rebalanced in relationship with the once “lost” feminine. His priorities have been recalibrated, his faith restored, his view vastly improved, his purpose softer yet significanly more aligned with fulfilment and joy. We could hope for no more than this from the plot of the most ideal and entertaining films which (like the stuff of fireside legend and myth) deliver their message subtly and with all the trappings of wonderful visuals, good humour and romance; this is not the first time I have considered Ridley Scott to be a genius of the film medium when it comes to delivering more than you, perhaps, even realise as you watch. Perhaps the reason I love to re-watch this one, in particular, is that it reaffirms my own courage and resolve to go after these qualities (you’ll get bored with your new life” declares Max’s friend; but you somehow know that he wont…) in my own life and reminds me of the kind of golden ending that awaits when I dare to follow through.

Quotes used from A Good Year are approximate and paraphrased.

For more about Elen, I recommend “Finding Elen: The Quest for Elen of the Ways“, a collection of cross-cultural accounts edited by Caroline Wise.

Film location Chateau La Canorgue


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Out of bounds

I had the most insightful thing flagged up to me last week, by a friend who is also a very gifted astrologer, and it was that I have an Out of Bounds Moon in my natal chart. This isn’t something I had ever had mentioned to me before but the timing was, as ever, “spot on” since it opened a minefield of explosive new information, like a radiant firework display casting new shape and colour all over my chart…and my life. I won’t attempt to go deeply into the explanations as Steven Forrest does a sterling job here and I will attach some other articles, below (a must read if you have an OOB Moon or planet in your chart). It’s all to do with this thing called declination caused by the tilt of the planet, a long time fascination of mine; the angle of declination being the moon, or whatever’s, position relative to the celestial equator (extrapolated from the earth’s equator). Briefly, to quote Forrest, the “maximum limit of 23°28′ declination, south or north, applies rigidly to the Sun. But not to the Moon or the planets. They can go beyond it. Mercury and Mars can reach 27° and Venus can, occasionally, go a degree further. The rest tend to stay within the tropics”. In simplest terms, keeping to the focus of this post, the moon occasionally extends 5° further “out” than the furthest declination point of the sun and some of us are born at these times with, apparently, quite profound effects. I have poured over this information (still classed as new age, evolutionary astrology since most astrologers have tended to ignore it) for the obsessive duration of several days now, also studying my chart and that of all the people I call, and have ever called, close to me as far a I could remember their dates (and, no surprise, my husband also has an OOB moon). I’m not one who lives my life by astrology, finding it too prescriptive and boxed-up in its own way; so its only now and again that I really prick up my ears. However this had me sitting up taking notice from the moment it was mentioned; it was just so astonishing, synchronistic and relevant-seeming to me and my experiences that I hardly knew where to land first.

Yet it also seemed to open up a pool of knowing that was already inside of me; something I was clearly poised to know more fully about myself because, for two mornings, I woke ready to tap up detailed notes about myself and my life, relating to this Out of Bounds Moon phenomenon, from my own stream of consciousness. In this sense, it wasn’t as though I had “just” found out about it but was more the case that I had always known about it and had only been waiting for my conscious mind to catch up with me, ready to take down dictation so I could look into it more. It was that kind of “lighting up” that happens when I feel like I’ve hit upon a specialism; something I’m expert at without having realised it before; drawn from life’s well of experience. At last, I had the “logical” means with which I could frame and explain this quality to myself and see the gifts, rather than the peculiarities, in it. The information I had long sought relating to deeply embedded feelings I have about “not fitting in” or always being on the “perimeter of normalcy” when it comes to mainstream thinking was right there in front of me and, rather than feel alarmed by it I felt, at last, at peace in some hard to define way. I had a handle on it, could track it’s undulating patterns, compare with some momentous milestones of disruption and of “starting all over again” in my life and then forward project, at least somewhat, into the passage of my future.

Because, above all things, the OOB Moon factor brings with it a propensity towards “bold, groundbreaking genius” of the kind that thinks outside the box and walks away from situations or, simply, ignores the rules. Being “nice outlaws” (Forrest) is their forte, making me smile at my childhood role model, Maid Marion who, whilst not a mainstream choice of heroine, seemed so relatable to me, way beyond the romanticized ideal of some of her depictions. Breaking the mould, breaking out of social constructs, pushing boundaries and championing new paradigms; Oprah Winfrey springs to mind. No accident also that some of the worlds most zany, out-there personalities (many more are listed in the attached articles) but also quiet folk, withdrawn characters who prefer to be alone than try to fit in with what feels so abrasive, also people on the spiritual hinterland, who make the broader perspective their everything but not in a “religious” or conventional way; these things I relate to most amongst my fellow OOB Moon-ers. Forrest’s “nine traits” of the out of bounds person make for such an interesting read if this is you. Quote Forrest: “The out of bounds moon is spontaneous, emancipated, liberated, released on its own recognizance, and utterly its own. It has loudly proclaimed “you can take this job (…this marriage, this church, obligation, moral principle, town, duty…) and shove it!” (Steven Forrest – “Book of the Moon). Well, we all know what a wild and overgrown “path least trodden” that kind of attitude can lead to and how many knee-scrapes we can get into along the way, so the field of exploration is rich with insight as to how such people, the contrarians such as I consider myself to be, manage to get along in this world. Yes, many take off on the outspread wings of their own colourful uniqueness though others are less hardy; some simply long for a place they can “peacefully be”, living by their own rules, in the out of bounds world of their own creating, well away from it all. We walk away from things, jobs, relationships, situations, that no longer feel “a fit” (something I have long history of, over and again); will often, tear up a whole way of life, at a moment’s notice and with apparently no pre-thought, when we have had our absolute fill of it (as I once so-spectacularly did).

Forrest and others will go on to list, amongst its qualities and characters, a tendency toward criminal behaviour and “going completely off the rails” (in the worst, most brutal and destructive, ways), which might alarm the OOB Moon-er at first hearing about it; make them curl their newly proud tail between their legs and slink back into the shadows. But a few days into trying this on, I woke this morning with the following indignant cry wanting to be expressed; which is what propelled me to write this post. Not to excuse such behaviours but to try and understand them, if you had spent the whole of your life feeling like the round peg in the square hole, and the one life keeps trying to hammer in there anyway, wouldn’t you be prone to flipping out at some point, possibly to an extreme level by social or moral markers depending on the life path you have chosen and how far you have allowed yourself to wander into the territory of rules and conditions that really don’t reflect who you are “on the inside” (thankfully, I have turned most of my pressure valves off by deconstructing such a life)? Couldn’t there be a higher-than-average possibility of throwing all your toys out of the pram at some point (given its potential lies within us all) and most likely, it seems, when your natal OOB moon returns to something like its original position in your chart? And the knowing of this risk-assessment, deep down, only acts like yet another valve turned on to maximum pressure-point inside of us; like we are forced to keep a very stern eye on ourselves, to guard our own behaviour more than what seems like average. It’s as though we become the parent that doesn’t quite trust the teenager within, which only creates unnecessary tension in “the house”. Over the years of ironing out health issues, I have come to recognise and work on these inner conflicts and done all I can to eliminate all the stress points where my exterior life used to fall short of my inner priorities; but not everyone takes time out to do this inner work. Perhaps, the last bastion of this inner conflict is recognizing how we come down so hard on ourselves for having the contrary feelings that we do, so perhaps its time we cut ourselves a little slack and let it be OK to have these OOB Moon traits; to celebrate them and stand up for them even (where they do no harm to others).

The very phrase “out of bounds” (coined by Kt Boehrer in her book, “Declination The Other Dimension”, which I have just ordered) seems to trouble me because I keep finding myself substituting “outlying moon” in my own head, when I ponder this topic. After all, “out of bounds” suggest there are bounds to be kept; that we are transgressors, breaking rules, excluded, over there in that field where nobody wants to admit that we camp out, like the hippies on the edge of town. A lifetime of this can feel wearying down to the very bootstraps. Point in case: just the other day, I wrote what felt like a very inspired blog on the bizarre subject of alcohol, a subject I’ve had a complex and, I feel, fruitfully observant relationship with (from within and, now, without). In fact, I keep wanting to share these thoughts but then feel I have to bite my own lip in order not to offend anyone or exclude myself any more than I already am by saying the “unmentionable” and largely “unrelatable” outloud. Though my post felt balanced, non-judgemental and worthwhile, I decided, on balance (using the inner safeguard I just talked about) that it would be pointless to share and that pretty much no one would want to hear it…such is the “conform or be damned” power of alcohol consumption in a world where the complicit silence about its culture is a water-tight drum. The same with being vegan; people treat you as misguided or plain wrong, stupid, weird, ill, pitiful but, seldom, as though you have made a valid life choice; which would be fine if you didn’t have to come up against these opinions everywhere you go that has people or offers hospitality geared for the majority. The “norm” utterly dominates in these domains and we are made to feel like mad aliens subsisting “on the fringe” of what it constitutes to be human. The pressure to conform is everywhere, silently expressed as that slight step-away from you when you say “no thank you” to what everyone else is having; and that pressure (especially for young people) can be intense. Yet again, I have made myself out of bounds to the normal world yet I can’t understand why there is such unquestioning mass consensus and ignorance on the other stuff; why so relatively few people seem to even question it or want to hear another view. But I digress; and this sideline wasn’t meant to be the main topic of this post but just an illustration of what it feels like “out here” in out of bounds land where the pressures of nonconformity, even though you chose that way, can steadily build up over time. When you add to that the feeling that you, frequently, “rub people up the wrong way” when you speak out about whatever matters to your own heart (a trait often associated with OOB-ers), it makes it harder still to persist with a path that means taking that on every day.

So those of us choosing such paths have the choice to “take it on the chin” when people think we are weird, misguided or groundless in our views, slinking off to our quietly divergent world without making a fuss…or we have to stand our corner, argue back and profess an opinion with all the stamina we can muster to swim against that mighty current. In my case, the line of action I take swings back and forth (something to do with how active my sun aspect is being at that time…) but, mostly, I struggle inwardly with how my views sound too opinionated, too much like I am trying to be an authority or pick a fight, which goes against my OOB Moon; so I sit back down again, and keep it to myself, which only creates another torture all of its own. These are just very obvious examples of how difficult it is to be the outlying one. It can feel as though we are always somewhat outside, looking back in at the world, seeing what others don’t take the time to see and eager to share our insights…but stumped as to how to do so without turning these observations into more strident opinion, more rules, more judgement, more cause for conflict. Like Edgar Mitchell (another OOB Moon-er), we feel like we are out there in space looking back at our planet from where we can see the whole beautiful picture, all of the overarching coherence, all the beauty of the apparently pristine oceans, the potential for so much love…and we just want to come “home” and iron out some of the creases in order to manifest what we just saw more nearly, more equally and much more universally at ground level, but we can’t seem to help others see what we saw out there. No surprise, Einstein also had an OOB Moon; he was belittled and scoffed at, for what he “saw”,  for much of his career but then he was the one who also coined the idea that there is no point trying to alter the current paradigm from within that same paradigm…

This OOB thing is not all about being outside in the sense of working alone, I have discovered. What it does is set up a very particular kind of working-relationship with the sun; in order to work with it in a fresh way, like a special envoy sent “out there” to report back the view from an alternate angle. The sun, after all, is the great overlord of the solar system; all the other planets operate within its sphere, relative to earth…except, it would appear, these out of bounds characters that sometimes reach a higher declination value than it does (and that’s not just the moon). So you could look at it another way;  if the sun’s domain is a hypothetical pool of spotlight on a stage as seen from earth (its audience) then, during these Out of Bounds phases, these characters are offstage and out of the sight. Their most familiar and prescribed qualities, normally defined for them by some sort of script, go suddenly “off-grid”, as it were. So do they disappear or, actually, become  more like themselves in such a place? Well, what would you do if you were outside of the watchful gaze of some authority figure; your parent, your boss…would you really go for it and be who you really are, more so than ever; like someone let off the leash, no longer self-conscious or held back in any way but more confident and true to yourself? Perhaps the moon gets to act less like the moon “as we think we know it”, at these times, and more like it really is; like the way a child will become more of their own person once their parent is no longer watching over their shoulder as they play or judging every interaction they have with their peers. Perhaps all we think we know about the moon (always defined “relative to the sun”) has less substance, at these times, than certain uniquely moon-like qualities that emerge to become more defined, confident or assertive, now coming into their own. What happens when the sun reaches the outer extent of its earth-circuit but then the moon keeps on going for another 5 degrees? Does the moon feel like the child learning to ride its bicycle on the day its parent suddenly lets go without warning them; does it experience fear, trepidation, excitement, liberation, posibility? A mixture of all of these? Do those of us going back into our natal OOB Moon phase experience all of this mixture of experiences deep within ourselves?

Another thought that came up for me is that this feels like an age-old abandonment issue played out at the astrological level; then, perhaps, worked through via certain human themes that arise more readily when the OOB Moon is there. After all, mixed up in the idea of being “outside” is the knowledge that you are no longer “inside” and this could so easily feel, to some people or in some circumstances, like a version of not being wanted or loved quite as much as others are; being let go of, shoved out, no room for you at the party. I see how strongly this theme has played out though my life, at very particular times that have now garnered more interest relative to this, and how this OOB Moon factor has given it more gravitas so that I could never, quite, get over it by working through whatever circumstantial issues seemed to give it form since it was anchored there at a deeper level than I knew. I suspect this is typical of many with an OOB Moon, underlying some of the issues that come up in association with it, including those relating to health matters that never seem to resolve; and yes, there does appear to be a connection between an OOB Moon and persistent emotional and physical health issues or, you could say, the ability to thrive. Vulnerability is a word sometimes associated with OOB planets in general; as you would expect about a planet “out there” all on its own.

It’s not all “bad”, not even nearly; in fact I am so thrilled to acknowledge and celebrate this key trait in my make-up that it feels like I’m welcoming home the prodigal son of my own persona, feasting on it all and eager to gather more OOB Moon-ers to the party (another motivation for this post). I’ve never been one to form groups or join clubs but this feels like a gathering I am keen to be part of and there are already a few of us talking and comparing notes. Mixed up in all of this is a kind of pride and self-celebration, a sense of recognising a degree of personal authority, autonomy and of being “trusted”…yes trusted, to go outside the perimeter walls…that the OOB factor signifies. It feels like being the prefect that the headteacher entrusts with going outside of the school gates to perform useful tasks; the wearer of a badge of honour worn, like a little piece of sun-light, on the lapel. This is a delegated light (the moon has no light of its own)…and yet it’s also the kind of light that is all of its own making; with a different quality to the sun and with its very own gifts to share. Then, the earth actually rotates around the sun (for all it appears to be the other way around) but the moon rotates around the earth; so, for the moon, the earth itself is its gravity point and motivator, a differentiation not to be understated, I suspect, when we look at the moon in our charts. These remind me of that point, which I am now at, where the parent watches the child leaving the nest, respecting that they also have different sources of drive to their own yet trusting that all they have ever offered them, from their own persective (even if it seems to be ignored or rejected), is now internalized, for better or worse. They have to “just know” that, for all the child will be outside their immediate sphere of influence in the coming phase, this is as it should be; trusting that they will remember all the most important things when it matters most and that they will always remain attached to their parent in ways that really matter, however far removed. You know there is still an incredibly strong gravitational pull in place, which allows for both freedom of movement without severance from core values; the best of both worlds scenario that we think of as maturity in action. If we have parented them in a balanced way, they will (hopefully) never go off the rails and I see that same relationship between sun and moon in an OOB chart. Like any great parent, the sun knows that children (some more than most) need their own space, even a place to withdraw to alone, in order to be the best that they can be.

Lunar_standstillMy playing with the charts has flagged up for me that looking at an OOB moon and its degree, perhaps even its path through your past life and its progressed path, isn’t quite enough to understand how this factor influences, (or, I prefer, offers potential) to your own situation. It seems, also, to be about the difference in declination factor between sun and moon at that moment of birth plus the compared value of declination of each. Taking declination value to equate with how strongly that particular astrological feature asserts itself, you could imagine, for instance, that if the sun is at its max possible declination value of just over 23° and your moon is at, say, half that value in your natal chart then the moon is going to be kept well under the solar influence’s thumb, even at times of OOB Moon (since that OOB trait is not reflected in your natal chart). Conversely, if the moon is near its OOB extreme, somewhere around 27 or 28°, and the sun is only half, or less, of that declination value at birth, the OOB moon is going to be a very dominant factor, especially at times when the OOB Moon phase returns although (here’s my observation) the sun likes to get its own back by over-asserting itself at times when the moon drops below its boundary line again. Some of the most dramatic OOB characters seem to have had such a yo-yo relationship between their sun and their OOB Moon; Kurt Cobain is one very extreme example. In my case, this kind of arrangement (and with a pretty fast sun and moon – Forrest talks about this being a factor to consider), it seems to hit me hard in my health as that constant friction I’ve talked about as yin and yang trying to come to a working arrangement within me; trying to operate some sort of job-share where one of them wants to be driven and structured, the other is every bit as determined to disconnect from the mainstream and adopt a far more fluid and spontaneous way of being. Yet, if there is an OOB Moon at the top end of that declination see-saw but the sun is at pretty much its lowest possible declination value at birth (I mean, somewhere around 0°), there might be a wonderful sort of balancing act going on where, even when the OOB Moon recurs then withdraws again, neither of them ever takes advantage by making a dash to the control room so they remain comfortable working partners in a sort of yin-yang balancing act throughout life (I give you Einstein as an example). Equally, when somebody has an OOB moon that is not too extreme…say, close in value to the sun’s top declination value of 23°28 …and with a sun value at or just a few degrees from that highest point, they might enjoy a pretty balanced experience throughout their life, even whilst taking full advantage of their most quirky OOB traits (Oprah comes pretty close to this example). Though this is a gross simplification and there are many other factors that need to be taken into account when looking into a natal chart, and which are far beyond my scope as a non-astrologer, these are examples I’ve played with in the charts of well-known people and a clutch of other individuals I know very well (including myself) and they seem to ring some truth.

Due to the accentuated push-pull relationship an OOB Moon seems to set up with the sun, some people with it may, quite literally, react more to extremes of sun energy than other people, as-in my own bizarre health issues which are minutely influenced by the active solar cycles and EMFs, the equinox and solstices, the changing of the seasons and of weather and even the transitions between day and night. Again, other factors will come into this; active and ascendant star signs, for instance, so it’s not all that straightforward but, in myself, I can trace themes. With my earth sign and OOB Moon, I’ve noticed how I seem to struggle around those with very active sun qualities in their chart; how it feels like they are, too often, the bossy, know-it-all-y, worldly types that leave me feeling flustered and unable to work at my best (sorry if you are are that fiery sun-type; its nothing personal but I just can’t seem to partner up longterm) which only pushes me even further into my OOB-ness; somewhere pulled back from larger-than-life characters where I can make up my own bizarre rules of what constitutes success. But here’s the thing…the biggest admission…I struggle mostly with these sun-qualities inside of me at the times when they come up very strongly; as though they get into some sort of tussle with my OOB Moon factor, which is the part of me that simply won’t work that way; not for all the herbal tea in China. And, I suspect, it’s this inner conflict that is the biggest area of rub for many (if not all) OOB-Moon-ers because its that old-familiar sun-moon playoff taken to a very -potent extreme.

My own sun traits, when they get to have a say, become like an internalized bossy-pants pushing me to the point of obsessive over-application; so I become fixated, single-minded, stubborn, driven and weary, burning myself out in pursuit of new learning, the answer to a conundrum or an ever-elusive perfection in some latest thing I’ve decided I must master and, of course, I never quite meet my own standards. Yes, I become this oh-so driven and intense person far more often than I care to admit and part of me is deeply grateful for it (without it, my health would have stagnated as it’s this unrelenting determination to uncover answers in the depths of the unknown that has driven me on) not to mention, relishes the fire-in-the-hearth feeling of it (like now, as I burn the candle at both ends of its wick, obsessed by this latest research). With such drive, I should be the great success, the academic or the businesswoman but then, because of my OOB Moon, I seldom apply my energy in consistent or conventionally useful ways that, for instance, would earn me a living income…so that inner friction, the endless sniping, only continues. This harks back to the topic of that awkward job-share arrangement that seems to be in place between my sun and my OOB Moon as they strive to arrange how to orchestrate their hours between very different skill sets and preferences. It’s like my sun keeps a pristine and orderly corner-desk facing a wall to eliminate distraction, only to come back in for its shift to find the desk has been moved to the window and covered in pot plants, replaced by a yoga mat or chopped up as wood for the bonfire now lit beneath an open starry sky. Meanwhile, my OOB Moon would rather have me sitting in the cooler light of a remote hillside than at the hot-desk of my most driven research projects or latest bees in my bonnet. It longs to be somewhere out there, well away from attention, where the view is more expansive, the noise of  people “doing” and “wanting” things just a distant rumble in the background behind gentle guitar strumming, like looking down at the skyline of a remote city glinting on the horizon,  glad not to be part of it (though the view from out here is pleasant enough; just a sparkly reminder that I’m still, somehow, connected to this world). And so the dichotomy  persists and somewhere, from its middle, I grow into myself like the tall-straight shoot on one of those pot-plants in the window, whose sides have been constantly alternated in terms of access to the light; round and round I go, getting there somehow, dizzying as it feels.

patrick-hendry-422301-unsplashYes, in small doses, I love the occasional burst of sun-like qualities; it can light up my world, excite and ignite me as much as anyone to be around them or feel them coming up in me, bringing hints of golden genius to the surface in elusive flashes that I race to grab hold of and bottle while they last; but it can also, quickly feel like it is all way too much bother, discomfort and unnecessary aggravation, even pain, to go after these elusive experiences of achievement, which hold their tentative currency in the “real world”. I can feel quickly irritated by it all, like the sun giving rise to an uncomfortable heat rash after an over-hot day, making me wish I’d spent more time in the shade. These sun traits can also feel bombastic or dogmatic in the wrong hands (including my own), plus I can’t hear myself think when I’m around them as there’s always way too much going on and far too many demands being made around that persistent solar influence for me to want to stay there for very long, which always makes me an unreliable candidate for joining in long-term projects since I change my mind and withdraw my interest abruptly and definitively. I guess, once an OOB Moon-er, always an OOB Moon-er and the reaction to any kind of rule-maker or someone who tries to tell me “this is how things have to be done” becomes a rub and so I make that break for freedom, or come up with a way of doing things my own merry-way, over and over again until out of bound-ness becomes a kind of personal specialism, a lifestyle option that becomes its own reason for being since it’s what I’m really best at, above all the other gilded gifts that tempt me as a path to pursue. Too many options on the table, I suspect, can be one of the traits that drives an OOB Moon-er nuts unless they learn how to play their own diversity and the sheer range of their desires, anticipating and allowing them to coexist. Working on this, ironing out the many conflicts, has long been the work of my lifetime and it feels like such an evolutionary thing as projects go. Allowing that you might not want what others want or do things the way they do is one of its prerequisites; then allowing almost mercurial changes in gear, or of mind, to take place within your own life, without harsh judgement, is another.

In case you’re wondering, the moon doesn’t always transit into the extreme declinations that some people are born into (that’s why they are relatively rare in people’s natal charts) and, some years, it happens not at all. The moon’s transit through the declinations will cycle between nominal highs and extreme highs over a period of about 18 years, the last cycle of which ended in 2011 and the next cycle of extreme highs beginning in 2020. So, there will be another peak of Out of Bound Moon births in 2024-25, which will be fun as those come to maturity, as they always do in waves. Maybe, for some of us “old” OOB-Mooners (assuming we’ve done the work to live true to our heart’s comfort zone and joy, gently removing, transforming or stepping away from the rubbing points in our lives that make us feel uncomfortable or even unwell) we will actually feel more at home in that territory for being, in a sense, familiar ground. Like working with anything that oscillates more so than staying the same (and I’ve talked at length about the ninth wave in this respect in my earlier posts), getting to know how we respond to patterns that take us in and out of our personal benchmark for normalcy, comfort or preference can help us to navigate the territory of change so that we grow from the experience, both safely anchored yet stretching ourselves into the furthest reaches of our as-yet unexplored potential. For my own part, there’s a quality in this OOB Moon thing that I truly love to own and long to work with more overtly, deliberately and passionately. If sun (you could equally say “yang”) traits have tended to feel all too much for me in the past, perhaps there’s a new way I can learn to work with it now, from this fresh perspective of how I newly see how I chose to set up in my birthchart this way, to include both influences in such a deliberate and powerfully active way, drawing on each of their strengths. I’m not an astrologer and am only at the very beginning of reading into this area, though I have a lifetime’s experience to bring to it, so there’s still a way to go; plenty to explore. However, I regard it as an opportunity for a new gift to be polished out of what used to feel so rough-edged and challenging; which, as ever, is the path of true mastery.


The Out of Bounds Moon – Forrest Astrology

Those Wild Out-of-Bounds Planets – Pamela Welch

Love and the Declination of the Declination of the Progressed Moon


The Book of the Moon: Discovering Astrology’s Lost Dimension – Steven Forrest

Declination: The Other Dimension – Kt Boeher


Astro.com for free natal and additional charts, found under Free Horoscopes. To check for Out of Bounds Moon or planets, click on the “additional charts” link on your free natal chart. For Progressed Out of Bound information, choose Extended Chart Selection from the Free Horroscopes section, choose Special Charts and then Elbertin’s Life Diagrams, Progressed Declinations (choosing first whatever time span of your life you want to look at).

The Moon Out of Bounds Video – Steven Forrest (recommended)

Declinations of the moon 2017-18

Current month declinations

Famous characters with OOB MOON

These are just some of the ones I find most interesting; there are many more listed in the recommended books and articles:

  • Oprah Winfrey
  • Albery Einstein
  • Sigmund Freud
  • Edgar Mitchell
  • Cat Stevens
  • Leonard Nimoy
  • Neil Armstrong
  • Yoko Ono
  • Ozzy Osborne
  • Alice Cooper
  • Al Gore
  • Ram Das
  • Queen Victoria
  • Freddy Mercury
  • Peter Gabriel
  • Billie Holiday
  • Bob Geldorf
  • Tom Waits
  • River Phoenix
  • Gwyneth Paltrow
  • Björk

Related thought:

It’s fascinating to tie this information with Barbara Hand Clow’s work on the axial tilt and the cataclysm that she believes caused that event 6000 years ago, setting the precession of equinoxes and seasons in motion as we know them today whilst becoming ingrained into the psyche of humanity, as an inbuilt massconsciousness trauma, ever since. My personal extrapolation from her theory was that these major disasters in our lives provide the “rub” from which we grow (since, if everything stays perfectly on track, there is nothing to compare with or learn from), thus the more we explore the outer limits of our own out of bound qualities, walking the perimeters and getting to know them in a personal sense (there is no deeper way), the more gifts we gather for ourselves and the collective in an evolutionary sense. I refered to BHC’s work on this topic in a number of posts a couple of years ago.


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Out of time

It made me smile when I read the Deva Premal post on Instagram that showed a photo of her and Miten and she commented “must have been a very long time ago, the days when we still wore watches” but it also made me think. Its been a very long time since we wore watches too or, rather, I stopped wearing mine first. My husband kept going, insisting he had to “for work”, then he went down to where he wore it just occasionally, on days when he had meetings. At some point he stopped altogether and, for a few years, has worn a black tourmaline bracelet where it used to be. I’m not sure when any of these milestones passed us by; like with Deva, its been a very long and yet…now I look back…utterly life changing time in ways we had no precognition of when we made these apparently inconsequential choices. Like we removed the nail out of the centre of some far more formidable structure that had been imposing itself upon us in countless ways, no longer having time, quite literally, strapped to our wrists seems to have changed everything…

We also used to have an inordinate number of timepieces around our house; well, I used to nurture a fondness for them, something about nostalgia and an aunt who used to do the same. I especially loved them if they chimed; got a somber black slate Victorian thing for Christmas one year, from a flea market. But it knew better than me what I really wanted since it largely refused to chime or even keep real time, even after I spent more than the price of the clock getting it serviced. Again, that was a very long time ago…back when I upheld the ideal of a home with a comfortable “tick” marking the moments. For quite a while after it ceased to work altogether, it just stood there; the strong but silent marker of a former time in time’s absence; a paradoxical thing, like a pillared mausoleum to times past. Picturesque as it was, that clock’s heavy presence went from my mantlepiece, along with all the other clocks, one by one…until my daughter got into the excuse of claiming the reason she was always late for everything was that we had no way of telling the time in our house anymore. It was a facile excuse since she almost never has her phone out of her hand, but I admire her for trying it so persistently. Incidentally, my first husband wore a particular watch as his fondest status symbol, more precious to him than flesh and blood; I never did understand.

Another pool of nostalgia has just opened to me as I plunge this topic; remembrance of the pride I felt, on my 6th birthday, when I was taken to the watchmakers’ shop where my uncle use to repair watches, to choose my little gold Oris, made in Switzerland, with its little red strap and its tiny wind-up button. I couldn’t wait to put it onto my left wrist (ironically, above my so-called “creative” hand…now brought into line with “tick tick tick”) and I wore it every day for years; always the first thing I reached for every morning before I was fully awake or, sometimes, I liked to keep it on and attune to its sound close to my ear as I slept. I was “strapped in” to the system from that day; the day from which timekeeping was drummed into me as just so important, almost the most important thing to which I must adhere, pivotal to all my so-called “successes” and ways of measuring worth. How much did the rhythm of those subtler than subtle gears suggest themselves into my biorhythms from that day forth? How often did I look at “the time” from that moment on; most of the time, not even noticing how much I did it, marked it, lamented its shortfall, wished it would get slower or faster but never content with where it was. I became subconsciously fixated with it, as we all do, at the expense of so much else. One of the most detrimental effects of this is how we are made to feel lacking of it, there is apparently “never enough time”; like the bedrock of a whole mountain of shortfalls we imagine ourselves to be living beneath the burden of for the remainder of our lives.

What did it do, this subtle gesture of unstrapping ourselves from the structures of hourly timekeeping; how did it make things different? Looking back, it is as though a heavy-iron grid of structure was removed from “life” as much as it could ever be removed without day-to-day activities involving other people collapsing altogether. For me, especially…working from home as I do, seldom having appointments to keep…I was able to disengage from that grid and become soft, fluid, impulsive, intuitive, attentive, aware; listening to myself far over and above any outwardly imposed “thing” that would otherwise have me fixated or dancing to its tune. I see how that influenced those around me (no accident my husband then softened and is hardly the same man I see smiling out of our wrist-watch-wearing photos). In fact neither of us is; our transformation has been incalculable, massive beyond descriptive words, no need (in fact) to quantify it except to say I, for one, feel truer to my own essence than I ever have. It’s as though I have shed a hundred weight of external armour, or trappings that once hung around me like leaden baubles on a reluctant Christmas tree wilting in an over warm house, wishing it was still out in the snow.

Now, in my mind’s eye, I see myself in my linen shift (my clothes have also become so much simpler..) with bare feet on the ground in my summer garden and I see, mainly, the very essence of who I am, not what I wear, what it cost, where I have been or have to be, who I know, what tunes I have to dance to in order to be deemed “acceptable”. In fact, I call my own tunes and…like the way I play my “flute” whenever I feel like it…I prefer to make my own tunes up, there is no sheet music. I guess the removal of that watch was like the first move, the pulling of a lynchpin (I said lynch…not grenade; how people fear what will happen if they unstrap themselves from time, how they fear the phrase “out of time” as though it means the show is over instead of only just begun). Things only got better and better, the landscape of life more expansive somehow like a balloon released from a tight corner; the sense of burgeoning yet undefined possibility in every moment the most assertive thing present.

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Acknowledging the relationships we have

Sometimes acknowledging the relationships we have can be a beautifully simple yet powerful thing to do; transformative in its way. Take the relationship I have with the cycles of the sun…how I notice the difference in my behaviour, my urges, my health according to the rhythms of solar maximum and minimum or whether the sun is “active” today. Not a relationship that many people are aware of, it seems, and yet we all have it and its one that I happened to have studied since it became more and more obvious to me over the past few years. Take today as example; awake with the dawn to meditate (though not a day it came easily…), do yoga, cramming celery through a juicer by 7 o’ clock humming Road to Marrakesh at breakneck speed (don’t know why…must have heard it and its got into my head) and with a list of “want to do’s” as long as my arm so I’m already tapping away on my computer. And this, a post that I didn’t even know I was going to write ten minutes ago, apparently first on my list. The solar wind is arrived, I assume…I know without checking; all the more obvious to me in these days of solar minimum when the long days in between can feel like moving at a snail’s pace through treacle (and my body’s processes feel like that to). Some days feel much (much) slower than this, whether I wanted it to be that way or not…and I can work  effectively with those too; allowing that there are other priorities to be taken care of at those times and, still, ways I can get worthwhile things done, even if that is resting and taking pause.

And it’s not just the cycles of the sun but the cycles of the seasons, of the weather, of the day…noticing them, how they make us feel (yes, differently, at different times..for all our modern perspective makes us like to think that we can streamline absolutely everything…), which can be so powerful. Not in order to give our power away to them but to acknowledge that they are there and that we are part of something bigger than just the minutiae of our world and our highly-focused daily preoccupations. It allows us to work with them to create the best possible outcomes. Being sensitive to these cues is, I have found, such a gift more so than a hardship that bangs on my door with unnecessary data to deliver.

The same, of course, in any relationship; with family, friends, colleagues, people who test our patience or our understanding and all those other people we hardly know but have to muddle along with. When we acknowledge that all of these represent “relationship” at some level, we stop giving our power over to them yet become the masters of working with situations that might otherwise take us along for their ride. It allows us to develop tact, patience and broader understanding (since it’s not “all about us”). It allows us to be at once humbled by the minute part we play in something vastly more complex and yet to steer our own vehicle according to the conditions, maximising our use of “what is” rather than labouring against the flow, which makes the best possible navigator of us and delivers the highest likelihood of reaching the destination of our greatest aspiration. So, with the wind so obviously in my sails, my super-productive day gets started (and its only 7.30).

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Finding my sweet spot

As alluded to in my last post, what I am really most about, right now (and I notice how I am not the only one…perhaps its something a whole lot of us are starting to find our way back to) is “finding my sweet spot” and then staying there.

What do I mean by this? Well, in very literal terms, as any photographer will understand, its about choosing my focal point and zooming in on it…not to the exclusion of all else but so that those other things become softer, more out of focus; they may even add the kind of contrast, colour or texture that enhance whatever it is that I am choosing to land my gaze upon but they don’t detract, or distract, from it. Its about finding what brings me most directly into contact with that feeling of peace and of joy and choosing to stay there.

Funny that the photography analogy should come so easily to hand as I’m finding that I’m doing the same thing with my art process right now; which is, increasingly, all about the digital process from photo to…sometimes…something a little more worked on or abstract but even when it remains “just” a photo, I like to choose what both me (and thus the viewer) is looking at. You could say, I guide them towards what it was that I experienced. My new-ish favourite toy for doing this is a lens called the “Sweet 50”, a name which still makes me laugh, a few months since I got it, due to the appropriateness of how it does exactly what I said above and then even has my age in the title. I mean, in the very year that I turn 50 and am so intent upon finding my own personal sweet spot in life, how amusing and apt that this lens should apparently frame that very intention in its name!

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Experiential Abbey House Garden photos taken (many of them, using the Sweet 50 lens!) this week on the first of several garden visits to celebrate turning 50; click to view.

This lens is a marvel for the fact that you can bend it and otherwise manipulate it…in fact, most of the time, I refer to it simply as “my bendy lens”. On the back of it, I’ve had some pretty interesting and funny conversations with complete strangers, I can tell you. These days, I seldom go out without it and, in fact, am drawing the conclusion that I prefer it to my “normal, does everything” lens. After all, who wants to see things exactly as they are, documentary fashion (such photography, however skilful, leaves me slab cold). Perhaps it’s the artist in me but I get a whole other degree of excitement in my chest when I take photos that are soft, often (by some people’s standards) fatally blurred or distorted but which convey a feeling, much as I sought to do (often with less aplomb…) as a painter. I get to recreate something that is visceral inside of me as I experience what I do in, say (typically) a garden and then match that frequency to what I achieve with my lens, along with any follow-up editing I do back home. In fact, half the time when I use a “normal” lens, these days, I find myself processing the photos to look more like I took them with the Sweet 50; which tells me such a lot, not only about my evolving art-photography process and the direction it’s taking, but about the whole direction of my life. I just seem to prefer looking at life this way!

After all, we don’t see things documentary-style. We don’t get the super clear, clean-cut edges to “the image” that television manufacturers boast about as we experience life, frame by frame. If you don’t believe me, pay attention to what you are aware of right now and you will notice, perhaps for the first time consciously, how there is only a very tiny part of what you are seeing that is in sharp focus; that the rest is all blur, shadow, blobs of colour, abstraction. And yes, the brain takes all that peripheral data in, messy as it seems, contributing to how we feel in deep down ways that we hardly notice, telling us how relaxed to feel; whether we can let our guard down, chill out. Perhaps these parts of the image remind us, at the subconscious level, who we truly are when we sleep at night as all the trials and tribulations of so-called real life dissolve away. Now, mixed up in all that visual soup, there is also the broader sensory focus (you could call it “inner vision”) that guides you to what you are choosing to make central to your attention and, as it were, dims down or fades out all the rest. We do it all the time, sometimes to our detriment…focussing clearly, say, on the terrible news headlines or the grit and grime of our daily lives but missing the softer stuff, the beauty and the opportunities to notice all that is loveable. So, as an artist, what do I most want to do…do I want to present it all on an equal footing, as though you were standing there in that garden with me, getting to choose which blade of grass to examine closely next? (I tend to think that would make me into someone who delivers visual information…but not an artist.) Or do I want to share what I, personally, focussed on and so experienced there because it was so high-frequency it overwhelmed me with love and appreciation of life and I want to dole that out like a tonic to all the world?

Guess what, of course that’s what I most want I do. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. And then even the soft, dreamy, unfocused bits around the edges become part of the emotional experience of it, like a cue to relax and feel good. There’s no accident about the fact that Monet is still one of the most loved and sought after artists of our time; that people still sit for hours (and I’m one of them) when confronted with his waterlily paintings hung in the round on a gallery wall (I refer to L’Orangerie and so recommend it as the place you are most likely to loose yourself in deep meditation in all of busy Paris). But then, of course, Monet was half-blind when he painted those canvases; and those years at Giverny became his own personal sweet spot since his whole garden became the soft-focus paradise that delivered his very best work to the world.

My best work is yet to come but I know it all starts here. In the week of my fiftieth we visited some of the most beautiful gardens that we have access to here in the south of England and I now have photography coming out of my ears. Just as well my other task of the week was to set up a new platform for photography; somewhere I can truly showcase it and sell all the prints I want to, anywhere in the world, with the least amount of logistical headache (another prime aspiration of the “sweet spot” years). The best of these raw images, so far (and I am only part way through processing them) were taken when I chose a sweet spot and focused my particular attention there…or chose no actual focus at all but went for the soft meditatative gaze, allowing the colour and form to gently dance itself into position and shine out without substance or meaning. I’ll let you decide for yourselves whether this approach works for you, either as a visual medium or as a way of life, but for me it feels like finding the very pinpoint of my purpose in life, on so many levels. More than that, I sense there’s pure alchemy in it; for both me and for others, perhaps, all of us, as a broader practice that allows some of the hard edges and definitions of life….things that we have allowed to perpetuate, to restrict or dictate and which continue to wound us, or remind us of old hurts, long after they are relevant or useful…to soften, obscure and simply fade away into abstract shapes with less substance, leaving centre-stage the prime focal point filled with joy, beauty, gratitude and purest love.

You can find a growing collection of the kind of photography I have spoken about in my brand-new website. Visit at www.helenwhitephoto.co.uk





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For sure, life has been one massive series of transitions into the new for me this year and, yes, I’m at that middle stage in a woman’s life when many things get to change, all at once…with an impact that varies according to how relaxed and flexible that woman is as that new wave comes into the shore. Will she ride with it, will she lose her footing, will there be rocks she didn’t see lying there beneath seemingly tranquil water…all remains to be seen and there is not one set of binoculars that could help her foresee the new vista that will be hers on the other side of the transition. Yet, as I have long maintained, this is meant to be a “coming of age” not a downward-spiralling aging process for a woman; a power time, if she will let it be whatever it is going to be without trying to predict or control it…

Chronologically, my year of transitions began with my AuraTransformation just six weeks into the year and which, though the jury is still out as to what that has, fully, meant for me (and I’m not sure when or even if I will be ready to share its ins and outs…but you can research the process via the linked website if you are curious) that step certainly seemed “big” and momentous enough to me before I went through it (following months of reading and research) that I thoroughly expected to walk out of those two sessions a changed persion….and we all know what expectations can do. And so I did; because I tumbled from that second day of the “treatment”, as though from a loose rock, straight into a nasty bout of the flu; a lost footing that felt like a recalibration of sorts, one which forced me to pull back and take stock enough that several great things came out of it, all of them altering my trajectory. So, I guess, you could say that it “worked” as a portal and is doing its thing in ways that continue to surprise me.

Then, I have just turned fifty in the last week; something which I have approached with unbridled optimism and even excitement (none of the woe and sardonic humour that most people seem to apply) yet it is a formidable portal, nonetheless. As it approached, I seemed to garner my unseen arsenal of personal strengths about me as through preparing to wear them all in a new and no-longer apologetic way. It felt like that season of watching the fruit spring from where the blossom had once been and I’ve been smacking my lips on how ripe that all feels; how I relish the opportunity to wear all the deeper, stronger colours of myself and be all that I am without hiding any of it anymore. A week into stepping into what feels like the lush garden of my fifties and I am still ambling around bare-foot, touching all the trees, wearing a Mona Lisa smile upon my lips…

Add to all that, I think I am “allowed’ at last to call myself menopausal since its been a good long while now since my body followed what you could call a monthly cycle (and such joyful liberation with that!), the new rhythm having finally arranged itself and settled about me like a new garment made of extra fabric than I was once used to but suiting me much better. I hope so; I long for all those ups and downs not to return (as its done before, after long pauses…but never this long) as I feel like I know how to drive this vehicle now; or almost so, with not so many scrapes against the curb. I feel so much more settled and “like myself” all of the time and all the many adjustments in how my body, my skin, my libido, my moods, my appetite…etc. behave are becoming more familiar to me now and, yes, so-much prefered to the old ways (OK, so the skin and hair take some more work than they once did but I’ll get there). Again, this all feeds a sense of my stepping into the power and wisdom of the years ahead, which will be all about me rather than about child rearing or juggling the family dynamic. Heaven forbid that grandchildren ever be dropped at my door for longer than a few hours at a time; those days are behind me now, I never was such a natural at it…always a struggle for me as it meant being far more grounded than I am naturally capable of. The days ahead feel like they are truly mine, perhaps for the first time in this or many lifetimes….and the sense of spaciousness is overwhelming and thrilling.

Then my daughter is preparing to leave home and it is at once exciting and nerve-wracking; actually, more of the former and I’m thrilled to see how ready she is, at last. Yes, I know it will be so different I almost can’t imagine it; and that my mother really struggled when the same transition came up to her as I left the nest (and it half broke both of our hearts to know it about each other and yet be apart) but this feels different. Together, we have constructed our relationship and our personal priorities differently, and more openly,  to that old format and I have a sense of self that goes way beyond my role of parent, as does she beyond that of daughter. It will only get better as we allow each other the space to manoeuver and to, then, inspire each other even more. I’m in joy for us both yet it feels like unhooking something a little more each day during the processional months leading up to it; like carefully disengaging the woven cloth from the loom, loop by loop, teasing it into its own shape and admiring what has been made, partly with the labour of my hands but now profoundly separate from them and with its very own pattern. It feels at once commonplace and yet earth-shatteringly momentous to be walking through this phase, knowing it will happen as surely as the clock will tick the hour that brings it…and no turning back to these family days, which we will all be, one day, so nostalgic about. I can’t help but be affected by this, pragmatic as I am and, yes, it is quite the portal to step through.

Into the garden

Artwork: ©Helen White (click to view)

Somewhere running along side me, accompanying me through this corridor of many doorways, there is a strong and steady beat keeping pace for me….could be my own softly treading footsteps, could be the sound of my heartbeat, my in and out breath as I meditate each morning. Rediscovering that my meditation practice holds me steady through all the transitions that life inevitably brings has been a big gift, this year; perhaps the biggest. In those tender moments, once…sometimes twice… a day for as long as I need to sit there and be completely still, I have  re-befriended the void and that’s good since void is all there really is on the other side of all these life-transitions. I have come to realise that the only reason that people sometimes struggle through them is because they insist on carrying their expectations with them when, really, they cannot know what is on the other side nor take what they thought that they knew through there for comfort. They can take precious memories, yes; but they can have no surefire guarantee that what those things taught them “then” will apply or hold currency where they are heading.  That’s the point. There is no forecast and we arrive at the threshold stripped down to our most refined essence, which it serves us well to be as familiar with as we can be. Relationships, daily routines, body functions, all these things are open to total reinvention when we go through such transitions and yet, when we regard that unknown vista ahead of us as pure potential, it always takes perfect shape for us and in ways we could hardly have fathomed or predicted before.

All I really know about the new phase ahead is that emptiness and void feel like my closest friends; and so I struggle with any kind of routine or commitment right now, resisting the merest hint of them like they are ropes that would loop and bind me before I’ve had chance to explore for myself. Even the most appealing work commitments (like the design brief I’m working to this morning, which ought to excite me yet, because I have a deadline to work to, I can feel myself bristling in resistance) feel like more than I really want hanging about me right now and all my efforts have been to simplify my business so that it can pretty much run itself this year. My urge to express opinions, to try to advise or instruct people how to live their lives or to share my deepest thoughts (except in their purest, least premeditated form, as with this post which came up quite suddenly…) was never more like a sail with no wind than this. Liberty is calling me across the open horizon, loud and clear, and if that’s what the void on the other side of so many portals is about for me then that is what I will head for, as a feeling that is just so good that it can’t possibly lead me astray. With this acknowledgement, I find that where I am now is as uncomplicated as it could be since it is all about pursuing what brings me enjoyment, joy being my most reliable signpost and the only one to which I feel I, truly, need to pay attention; knowing it won’t lead me off piste. Yes it takes so-called sacrifice to do this; effort to simplify your life, to want less that is unnecessary, likely to clutter or put demands on your fiances and time yet it feels so worth it and all part of the honing process as you work back to what is really important; what is really, truly, what you are all about in your heart.

So whether I write here (or not), whether I paint ever again (or not…and it seems to be a resounding “not” right now), whether I develop the many new strands of my work (again, or not…since I remain constantly attentive as to whether to continue or to change paths at a moment’s notice); or whether I dare to do what summons abject terror into the hearts of most by doing absolutely nothing until the calling comes, all remains to be seen and is open to daily evolution. What I can be quite sure of is that its is all part of my particular version of stepping through a giant doorway into the brand new landscape which has yet to become “my life” and which, if I remain true to these thoughts, will remain in a constant state of “becoming”, like a flower eternally unfolding petals, for all the days of my life.

Posted in Consciousness & evolution, Divine feminine, Life choices, Life journey, Menu, Personal Development | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments