I'm not a typical Libra. I was raised by two Aries. You know, those Mars people are half feral. At the very least. Going, doing, headbutting problems out of the way as they arise. We ran as a pack, the three of us. On the water, in the woods, in the yard, down hills covered in snow. Aries doesn't sit still much and, of course, they were dragging me with them. Not that I minded. I loved all our adventures. Which is what they were to me. It's really funny though. My Mom and Dad were never athletic in school. But, they were two of the most physically active folks that I have ever met in my life.
My father would endure physical labor all day holding tight to a work ethic the likes of which I've not seen since. He made it look easy in a way one would not expect. Tall, lanky and lean. His wirey frame did not give indication toward his strength. But, it became obviously clear once you witnessed the man work. My mother is a fairy. She likes to think of herself as a spitfire. But, at just over 5 foot tall and a whopping 100 lbs soaking wet, on the rare occasion she did become angry, she reminded me more of Tinkerbell than a mad ram. Her anger didn't snort steam from her nostrils. It was more of a flurry of pixie dust. She doesn't fly, though. She runs. For as long as I can remember she has ran on average 5 miles a day. Active folks. Each are over two decades older than me. But, even my advantage of youth never enabled my Libra self to match their pace.
I could never get into running with my Mom. Libra's just do not run no matter how feral they are. It never made any sense unless someone was chasing after me. In that event, there was never much problem. I can run faster when I'm scared than most folks can when they are mad. Plus, if there are other folks with me, all I have to do is run faster than the slowest person in the group. The only exception to my aversion for running? I can and will run like a deer in the woods.
I'm not sure how that happens. I'm one of those folks who can't walk down the street without the risk of tripping over her own feet. On most days, I have about as much grace as a drunk elephant. But, put me in the woods? I'm leaping from rock to rock, bouncing off tree stumps and disappearing into the deep recesses before anyone has had time to think about even catching me. Perhaps it is the physical equivalent of stuttering versus singing? I'm not sure.
I think the sugar maple in my neighbors yard and the white oak in our backyard nurtured me into adolescence just as much as my parents did. I loved nothing more than sitting on the highest branch I could reach overlooking the whole neighborhood. I spent a lot of time in the woods with the trees. Alone or with friends, it really didn't matter to me. The only place I felt more safe was in my own home which was protected by warriors. In the woods, the only protection I had was my own intuition and instinct. They served me well. Never have I been afraid there. Plus, the wise wardens of the forest were my friends. I felt...and still feel, their presence around me in a very familiar and protective way. I've had some of my best conversations with a tree. They are easy to communicate with because you don't have to find the right words to say. They can hear what your heart speaks returning their answers to your questions straight to the place from which they came without need for verbosity. I learned this wordless language fluently coming a to a place of comfortable silence and a sense of knowing that was easily trusted.
As an adult, whenever life becomes overwhelming or confusing, this is where I am able to come back in touch with myself. Under the gentle sheltering of the trees. With woodland creatures scuttling through the leaves sometimes sneaking a peek at me from atop a distant rock with just as much curiosity about me as I have about them. I always resort back to the place where I don't have to make sense in my mind as the answers to my mangled understanding is delivered directly and silently to my heart.
Even when in the forest at night, with nothing to guide or direct me, I've never become lost. That's saying something for someone who cannot drive from KY to the East Coast without having to turn around and re-calibrate a few times in Winston-Salem, NC. My sense of direction can get a little befuddled when in a car. But, not with the trees. I always knew precisely where I stood with them. My second family. My second home. I love the quiet wisdom and gentleness of the woods. I am a Libra with Venus in Virgo.
Thursday's Full Moon falls just shy of a conjunction with my Venus. So, you would think that when I drew the Hermit card yesterday as advice, I'd been more than willing to retreat into the wild as suggested. But, no. I fought with myself over it. My brain screamed, “No, I don't have time for that! I need to do this and this. I need to go here and there.” Incessantly there was task after task and chore after chore bubbling up and bearing weight on my shoulders until finally, a very quiet and still voice said to me, “No, Josi. What you NEED to do is stop.”
Maybe the whisper came from my Venus. She is the best caregiver for my Pisces Moon. She knows exactly what it needs. She knew I was occupying myself with busy to avoid dealing with the fact that little Moon needed my attention. Or, maybe it was the far reaching wordless echo of the trees themselves. Doesn't matter. I guiltily followed the advice and breached the treeline re-emerging a little over 3 hours later with zero regrets.
Well, except for the regret felt because 3 hours didn't seem long enough. Any longer than that and I would have been missed. Folks would have been worried. As hard as it was to give myself permission to go, it was even more difficult convincing myself it was time to come out.
This Full Moon is all charged up and ready to go. Against a stellium in Pisces we are sensitive. Things are confusing to a point that it is hard to find words to describe how we feel in response to all the chaos emerging from the depths of the collective psyche. Yet, the Moon in Virgo knows what it is we need. Her fullness calls to us drawing us toward it. “Come, get back in touch with what you are made from. You are crafted of the rivers, rocks and dirt. You are related to everything you see. Come home to the silence and the strong enduring rootedness of the elders. Let us shelter and support you. Only here will you find the answers. Not in that tangled web in your head where words incessantly give rise to worry. But, here where we can remind you of what you are and what is really important. Come, recapture your wildness. What you NEED to do is stop. Release attachment to your incessant chatter and distracting busy-ness. Re-center yourself. Here. In the REAL world.”
For even more about this Full Moon, visit my previous blog post here.