on the full moon in taurus and the harvest that isn't (yet)

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Before we get going, a quick note that I’ve got a new episode over at Call Your Coven on planetary days and how to use them. This is probably the single astrological timing technique that is most deeply embedded in my life, to the point where I organize things almost automatically around it, and so I’m really excited to share.

And now, for today’s Full Moon.

Today’s Full Moon arrives at 24* of Taurus at 4:28pm Eastern.

If May 7th’s New Moon in Taurus was the time of seed-planting, then this period, it follows, should be a time of plant-reaping.

But perhaps you, like me, are finding that an energetic harvest is not happening — or at least, is delayed by exhaustion.

As is my default tendency on a Full Moon, I woke up berating myself for not having been more productive this last week, for not better utilizing this last waxing moon cycle. My fiancée had to remind me that in the last 10 days since the election, we have planned a wedding, a honeymoon, and several other (yet to be announced) Major Things related to our livelihood. Plus, there was the election and the subsequent BREAKING NEWS emails from the New York Times, each of which reads like a perverse love child of 1984 and The Onion.

Sometimes, I’m reminded, the creative energy goes toward imagining a better world, or simply imagining how it will be possible to get through the day, rather than toward the book itself.

And so today’s newsletter is short and sweet. This is your reminder (and mine) that harvests do not always go as planned. That surprises and disruptions, unwelcome as they might be, are also a part of life. I say this because this Full Moon sits almost exactly with Uranus, the planetary embodiment of chaotic neutral. Unexpected events can till the soil, wipe the slate clean, or even deepen and enrich our roots, all of which can, in their own way, be helpful. But we usually don’t know that the silver lining is coming, that the no has created a way for a more fitting, more purposeful yes. That kind of perspective is the result of time passed — it’s so rare to see the possibility a disruption is creating when you are experiencing it in real time.

In order to soften my mood, my love pulled tarot cards for me this morning from friend of the newsletter

Cedar McCloud

’s stunning new Magic Pantry Deck. (As a sidebar, Meg and I have both been reading tarot for long enough that we are rarely truly delighted and surprised by a deck, but this one. This one is special.) 

In this deck, Death is interpreted as the fermentation process: the ultimate “things take the time they take.” You have to leave that which is fermenting alone and resist the urge to fuck with it. It is an exercise in trusting the process. To consider the Seven of Swords as spinach, we might recall that spinach changes shape in the process of cooking. Raw spinach in a salad is one thing, but the minute you put heat on this particular green, it’s going to constrict and shrink and radically change color, texture, and size.

The harvest — or a time of harvest — does not always resemble what we thought it would. It may have changed shape or texture; it may be taking a lot more time than you’d like.

The thing about the creative process is that it’s never let me down. Even when I’ve had to let go of cherished book projects. Even when I’ve procrastinated or lost interest. Rather like romantic relationships, creative work isn’t only a “success” if it’s til death (publication) do us part. Every project informs our relationship to creativity, clarifies and strengthens our aesthetic sensibility. Every idea teaches us about what we value, about the kind of art we really want to be making. Time spent with the work — even with work that we don’t want to put out in public — is never wasted. It’s all grist for the mill, all part of those 10,000 hours (listen, I don’t respect Malcolm Gladwell, but a broken clock is right twice a day, yeah?).

And so even if your harvest is not (yet) here, take heart. Trust the process. Let your work — or yourself — ferment. And embrace the change.

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