new moon in aquarius for writers
new moon in aquarius for writers
on the last 7 weeks & not having energy to work with moons
The only pain that usually wakes me up out of a deep sleep is a migraine. That wasn’t the case the morning of December 12th. Stomach cramps unlike anything I’ve ever experienced — consistent, painful — woke me at six in the morning and didn’t abate. But hey, pain is pain, right? I took Ibuprofen, I made coffee, I went to my desk to work on my book edits, which were fast coming due.
By noon, the cramps were so bad that I had to take a break to lay down on my couch, curled up in the fetal position. I was supposed to go over to my girlfriend Meg’s house that afternoon; I told her I was feeling like shit. Come anyway, she said. I’m worried.
Later that night, we ended up in the ER at Brooklyn Hospital Center. Things got a hell of a lot worse from there.
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The New Moon in Aquarius arrives February 1 at 12:46a Eastern. Initiating a new cycle in the sign of Aquarius, the Saturn-ruled air sign loves to understand the rules so it can break them. Here, we fuck with systems that have outrun their usefulness in the interest of building community, of challenging our intellects.
This new moon happens to be making a square (a 90-degree angle) to the revolutionary planet of Uranus; the friction emphasizes those elements of challenge and disruption, and Uranus, of course, never met a structure it didn’t want to tear down.
However, since the moon itself has to do with our emotions and our bodies themselves — be mindful that you’re taking care and paying attention.
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The first time I went to the ER, I was misdiagnosed. They told me I had a UTI and discharged me. Two days later — after two straight days of vomiting, dehydration, not being able to speak and only communicate with my partner through the most basic sign language, and feeling like my skin was being stuck with pins and needles — my insides suddenly felt like they were being wrenched, like I was a demon on Charmed or Buffy getting melted into another plane or something.
I didn’t want to call an ambulance; Meg insisted. We fought, even while I was screaming in pain, but she won, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life that she did. One six-minute ambulance ride later, I was in the ER, and eventually, I learned that my appendix had perforated, which is the fancy doctor way of saying that it had fully burst. Burst. That thing you hear about appendixes doing but which they like, don’t usually do? Burst. Which meant it was too late to operate. Because the CT scan and my blood work was showing that everything was already too infected, too inflamed. It was way too dangerous to go in surgically, as was explained to me numerous times by my doctors over the course of the next week. The short- and long-term damage of surgery to my body, now, would far outweigh any benefit of “going in,” they all said.
So. My body has been in free fall for 7 weeks. As of today, I have been in the ER four times, and hospitalized for a total of 14 days. I spent my birthday in the hospital and New Year’s Eve in the Emergency Room (again), watching doctors and nurses sing Auld Lang Syne and listen to the announcement over the loudspeaker wish the patients a safe and healthy new year. I have lost track of the number of blood draws and CT scans, of different medications I have rotated on and off of to try and get what’s happening in my body under control.
I had a drain inserted; it’s just like it sounds, a needle in my body connected to a tube outside of it, walking around with a catheter-like bag to drain abscesses. If you haven’t had a drain, let me tell you, no amount of morphine or Oxy can touch the pain of those first few days as the body adjusts to having a needle just hanging out inside it. (Especially if it’s in your bum, like mine was. “Ass needle” and “Mr. Pokey,” my best friends took to calling it.)
All of this happened just when New York City was getting hit with the Omicron variant, and on my second hospitalization, my girlfriend and I both unfortunately contracted COVID, testing positive around my discharge. Our first few weeks of having me at home were severely colored by both of us having COVID — the physical exhaustion, the horrible brain fog.
Anyway, this is why there weren’t any newsletters in January.
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The thing about New Moons is that there’s one every month or so. We’ve talked about this before, but in the social media astrology cycle, it can feel overwhelming: like you have to be doing something with every single moon cycle, or else your projects and creativity will be bereft of the additional magic.
Friends, let me tell you: I am a Capricorn. Winter solstice, or Yule, is my favorite holiday (it’s also my solar return, or my birthday). I did not celebrate any of it. I didn’t do a goddamn thing. I didn’t have the energy. And that was okay.
My celebrations these last 7 weeks have been small. The day that my dearest love, my partner Meg, could touch me again (for a long stretch, I could not stand to be touched). The day I was able to have some applesauce and fruit after not eating for 72 hours. The day that friends came and sat with me for four hours in the hospital waiting for my discharge because Meg had tested positive for COVID and couldn’t be there. The day that I could actually sit up all day. The day I got the drain out. The day I drank my first proper iced coffee. The day that friends dropped soup at our door. The day I had the energy to just read fanfiction all day.
The day — well, January 27th — where I could finally, finally work on editing my book and not feel entirely drained and depleted afterward.
Honestly, working with moon cycles has been the last thing on my mind. And yet — the cycles have still been there, showing up in retrospect anyway.
The moon is always there, it turns out.
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The thing about this New Moon, and every new moon, is that it’s there if you want to work with it. And if you do, there is something different coming, probably, because Aquarius energy likes to fuck with things and Uranus is involved so, again, we aren’t settling for same old same old here.
If this is about working with emotions or family relationships, you may know what that is already. If this has to do with the body or health, pay attention and don’t ignore what’s coming up. It may not be a health issue, of course — it could have to do with that nagging desire to change up your aesthetic or simply get a haircut. Cycles aren’t always big, you know? Sometimes they’re just a reset, a reminder to come back to center.
This moon is also sitting relatively close to Saturn, so whatever changes you make may be ones you end up thinking about committing to, or reckoning with for the long-haul. Something to think about.
And if you, like me, may be too tired to do a ritual, remember that simply looking out the window at the moon and saying “hey beautiful” is enough.
Writing Prompts for the New Moon in Aquarius
When it comes to your emotions, family life, and/or body/health/appearance, what are you looking to change, disrupt, or revolutionize? What is making you happy? What needs some tinkering?
Have you experienced any external shifts or disruptions in these areas (Aquarius), or in the part of your life ruled by Taurus? What has this been like for you?
How does thinking about these topics dovetail with any plans, resolutions, goals, hopes, or thoughts you’ve had moving into the new year of 2022?
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Missed you and your insights! I hope it keeps getting easier day by day. Love and energy from Spain 💓
Sending you so much love and healing thoughts 💛💛💛💛💛