Live from the Dark Moon
Not drowning, sailing with all star sheets to the wind
The multiple fathoms of this very dark moon are shot with glimmers for those with eyes to feel the current. Even Cancer’s deepest doldrums are under the influence of Merc’s merry retrograde through the same deep waters. If you have been feeling the ping or even sharper sting we have now arrived to the transit’s glorious turning point. Yes, here in the depths of dark moon treacle, the sun flipping flares like a short order cook while everything teems in all our worlds at once.
Oh July. Oh the prophecy and the relentless gallop of this world tipping year. Here. Already. The dark moon cauldron disquieting as we approach the crossing with senses sharpened by the spray and roiling.
Mercury’s cazimi - a beautiful ancient Arabic word that means in the heart of - is when the trajectory of this much maligned transit tilt shifts, often delivering missing pieces, glimmers and signposts that support the reorientation in process. We are also here now, spinning. The planet closest to the sun is wheeling across its face like a manic mini eclipse that casts rainbows and shadows all at once. Every cazimi delivers revelation in the truest sense of the word, which could be a welcome boon for those addled by this retrograde and its dubious graces. You cannot hunt for this epiphany nor command it at will but you can trust it is due. Leave open a landing platform today. Get ready to change your mind. The axis of transformation is perception versus reality, because Mercury is only dealing in riddles as the psychopomp at the threshold. Back your intuition over any other external intel, or you will again be led astray.
The new moon incoming this eve is conjunct this Sun and Merc double header and will be pulsing in the wake of the cazimi. You too. The passage to this threshold is choppy and unchartered. Huge currents are arising from our murkiest / Merc-iest depths around families of origin and fields of belonging, the people and places that once upon a different time were home or harbour. The flashing opposites that suddenly obviously don’t cut the mustard are flaring and tightening the aperture, bringing strong feelings to the surface and old shadows as well. The wind is picking up on approach. In all of our deep ocean Cancer crossings we are in the moon’s domain. Sitting with alllllll the big feelings is a kindness rather than a process. Do not discard the native intelligence that flows down your face.
Looking for a bowline in the dark?
The (3rd) Mercury Retrograde channel is waiting for your listening ears on my fat ‘Stack podramble, next in the series that takes you through each distinct week. If week one was the scramble that plunged us and week two was when the secrets slipped out then this week starts to help the other two make sense. Remember that hindsight is 40 / 20 and foresight is not part of being blindsided. Let yourself off those hooks by seeing how the astrology actually played out in your real life, so to adjust the rudder to prevailing new conditions. I recommend working backwards, because r e t r o g r a d e is a rear view mirror.
The (3rd) Retrograde Channel
Welcome witches and darklings to week three of Merc’s merry retrograde through the deep waters of Cancer. The previous two rx channels from last Monday and the one before that are worth listening to before this one, so you are in sequence.
Sunday’s Dark Mooner opened the round window for the homing signal pulsing from the syzygy of sun, moon and Merc. We gather on all the moon and sun portals as part of our ongoing Coven devotions to the moon and her dance with the wheel we walk here on earth. I fling open the screen doors to our mooners every fortnight for anyone interested in the astrology or wanting to dabble. The recording is here. Last weekend’s happy hour included:
Cancer season as a tide and an emotional subset
the influence of other co-stars
the tangle in Merc’s retrograde in Cancer
today’s Mercury cazimi, crucial turning point in this rx adventure
the Saturn in Aries factor, square to this new moon and turning our focus to fresh foundations and deeper rooted questions
the last lune before eclipsia or the soft launch of that (next) wild season
ritual suggestions and acceptances
the conversation still to be had when the moon makes new
This mooner’s imaginal guide gifts you a handy tool which doubles as a bespoke ritual, delivering guidance only you can generate from within. Don’t let anyone tell you that particular skillset is not part of your future and certainly don’t give it up; instead cultivate one of your innate human superpowers. Best timing? The potent homing signal of the Cancer new moon chimes at 7.43pm Sydney time on Tuesday 14th July.
And of course I’ll be reading right through the portal as we approach the fabled fourths once the new moon has risen. This week has barely gotten started and you will not be the same by its end. There are many ways to find yourself in these prophecies and currents. The ones that count most will arise from within, and they absolutely can be conjured and coddled.
Crab Lore
From Morsel, my first book of tales published in 2022
From earliest days, the only thing the crab knew for sure was its shell. Its home was its back. Its pincers wore the same armour and its soft flesh was admirably protected by a cultivated crust. Able to drift with the tides, safely clamber over rocks and deftly bury themselves in the sand, a crab’s life seemed infinitely secure.
But on long dark nights when wind whipped the waves into an accusation and change stole the moon from the sky, the crab would feel a familiar constriction. Weep tears of excessive attachment to baptise the path beyond security, tremble at vulnerability and risk. Tender flesh pressed too tightly to the shell and yearning for a greater belonging.
Nostalgia tore at the little crab’s heart as it forced itself beyond the safety of all it knew and towards courage. Dragging its old shell to the sea’s shore, the crab sought the larger shelter of kin and found its place in the line.
Though the moon had hidden her face, her mother’s heart swelled as she watched the dance she knew so intimately. Her creatures lined up in perfect graduation from smallest to the largest and bravest of them all.
Gently Luna pulled the tide all the way out and cloaked the crab parade in the everloving embrace of her shadows. She gazed from afar as one by one they emerged, pale flesh quivering and desperate for room to move. Scuttling like startled children to the larger shell that had appeared by their side just when they feared growth would cost them their lives.
Gingerly a cast of crabs stretch out into the new. The tide anoints their fresh mettle and uncertain grace, flushing with pride. Nostalgia and grief mingle near the cliffs, chasing love in the currents. The moon beams fresh promises from places unseen that will make it to shore by morning.
.
And they will. You can bet your shells on it, darklings.
