Sunday morning at dawn (EDT) we enter the Last Quarter with a scintillating Moon in Gemini.
This Moon squares the Sun, by definition. This Sun is tightly conjunct Mercury, who had their cazimi today (September 13).
This curious Moon, ruled by a just-enlightened Mercury, has a bazillion questions. At least. What’s new? What was revealed? What do we know now we didn’t know yesterday?
Of course, this Mercury is very very close to the Sun, invisible, under the beams. They may not have much to say yet. That won’t stop a Gemini Moon from asking.
The Sun and Mercury also conjunct the South Node of the Moon, a place of letting go.
It’s time to clear out old to-do lists and checkpoints. Let go of old ideas of priority and value and whether we’re doing a good enough job.
This Gemini Moon, though, has tons of new ideas. More than she can download. Squaring the Sun, Moon, and South Node places this Moon at the bendings. This is not just any bending.
This bright, electrified Moon has reached her maximum elongation. As out of bounds as she can get, she moves gently back toward the ecliptic (only slightly, not even one degree yet) from her major standstill.
What does this mean?
Every 18.6 years, the Moon slips far away from the ecliptic. Her maximum occurred with the Spring equinox in March. Visually, she rises and sets as far north and south as she ever does.
At the stone circle known as Callanish I on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, the Moon now hovers close to the southern horizon, where she passes through an avenue and the circle of stones before disappearing behind hills.
This is thought to be the origin of the phrase, drawing down the Moon.
Picture this.
The outer planet change agents still trine and sextile each other, as they will. Mars in Libra separates from a square to an exalted Jupiter in Cancer as he sextiles Venus in Leo. Stuff still happens in the world.
Yet the main show is the Moon rolling along the horizon to light up an ancient stone circle on a remote island in Scotland, spilling her light across the land.
Walt Whitman wrote I Sing the Body Electric as a paean to humanity, in our diversities of form and movement and all of our varied parts. He drops this parenthetical comment into the middle of his stanzas:
(All is a procession.
The universe is a procession with measured and perfect
motion.)
And so it is, and so are we, all part of this body electric with a Gemini Moon so close to the horizon in Scotland we could reach up and touch her light.
