the new moon in aries for writers
The writing is not coming as easily these days. It’s Aries season, and Mercury — the planet of communication, the planet that governs writers and our thought processes — is also in Aries, burning fast and furious. This is a setup for new insights, and theoretically, for some, probably quite a bit of new writing. But for me, focus has been fleeting, and the words are few.
Not everyone responds the same to every season.
Having paid attention to my 34 annuals of life thus far, this is not surprising. I know that fall and winter are when I feel most creatively alive, focused, and vibrant. Spring and summer are when I start to slow down, to prefer input to output, to reflect. (As someone whose sun, moon, and rising are all in the winter signs, this makes sense.)
In keeping with that desire for input over output, I’ve been watching lots of new shows and growing my TBR stack. Reading: bell hooks’ All About Love (which everyone but me has already read), Carlo Rovelli’s The Order of Time (which has bent my brain). Watching: the latest season of Bridgerton (which was fine), Our Flag Means Death (a queer romcom which every LGBTQ+ person who binged Bridgerton should watch instead). Lots of watching. Little writing.
Barring my health crisis this last winter, I have never missed a new or full moon newsletter here at Astrology for Writers these last three years, but I was genuinely concerned that I simply did not have anything to offer for this New Moon in Aries. After all, as we have discussed here on numerous occasions, the moon waxes and wanes every two weeks, and you don’t have to do a big ritual every time. You should honor what your body, mind, and spirit are feeling. I wondered, perhaps I should take my own advice?
But then I started watching the latest HBO special from my favorite 12th house sun writer — Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart, based on her latest book of the same name.
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Today’s New Moon arrived at 2:24a Eastern, at 11 degrees of Aries. While the New Moon itself did not make any exact aspects, it is ruled by action star, conflict-happy Mars, which is currently in Aquarius, applying to a conjunction with Saturn, our dyke daddy of limitations and responsibilities. The moon will sextile both Mars and Saturn later tonight. Mars and Saturn reach their exact conjunction on Monday — more on that in the forthcoming month-ahead newsletter for paid subscribers.
The effect of a traditionally bold, bright, fiery Aries New Moon being touched by Mars and Saturn is that it is, incidentally, a little slowed down. It feels the weight of responsibility more. Seeds can be planted, but may require more time to take root.
With Mars’ motivation bearing the pressure of Saturn’s responsibility, this new moon may have more difficulty accessing its courage. And being vulnerable.
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If there’s one word associated with Brené Brown’s body of research, it’s vulnerability. Vulnerability as the antidote to shame, as the wellspring of the creativity that mark the human condition is the throughline of her many books, TED talks, podcasts, and now television series.
When astrologers talk about Aries season, or Aries placements in people, courage is a word that comes up a lot. Aries is the start of the zodiacal year, after all. The first sign of spring. Cardinal fire. It starts shit. Takes no shit. Is bold, brash, and bullheaded in its desire to go after what it wants. As a Mars-ruled sign, Mars having been the god of war, we often talk about Aries folks as hot heads, as people who are fighters or who are willing to engage in conflict.
And, sure. That can be true. But it’s not the whole story. Because I can’t help but think of how Brown talks about how essential vulnerability is to any expression of courage.
The courage to go after what you want requires raw vulnerability.
We don’t often talk about the vulnerability of the Aries archetype, about how much energy it takes to dredge oneself up into a roaring fire from the smallest of embers. How much trust in yourself. How much belief against the chorus of naysayers that exist both within and without.
In the Atlas of the Heart special, Brown defines vulnerability as “the emotion we experience during times of uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.”
Times of uncertainty and risk.
Times of emotional exposure.
That sounds like a New Moon to me.
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It can feel vulnerable to create, to plant new seeds during a New Moon. It can also feel vulnerable to be unsure, to rest and simply be still when it seems like everything and everyone around you is moving. To trust in the pace of your own body and spirit. But this, too, is Aries energy: to embrace independence, to take the path less traveled (a poem, unsurprisingly, written by an Aries).
Or, as Brown writes in Atlas of the Heart,
In a world where perfectionism, pleasing, and proving are used as armor to protect our egos and our feelings, it takes a lot of courage to show up and be all in when we can't control the outcome. It also takes discipline and self-awareness to understand what to share and with whom. Vulnerability is not oversharing, it's sharing with people who have earned the right to hear our stories and our experiences.
Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage.
Happy New Moon in Aries.
Writing Prompts for the New Moon in Aries
Where are you feeling the most vulnerable? Put another way: where are you feeling the most discomfort in your creativity, in your writing, in your life at large? What about this has lead to avoidance, to fear, to pain? What difference might leaning in make?
What does boldness mean to you? What about the descriptions of Aries energy feels accessible, and what feels distant or even threatening? Why?