Pre-Spring Cleaning
Tonight's lunar eclipse in Virgo scrubs whatever is keeping you small.
Hi, doll.
Spring doesn’t officially begin until next week, but already the world has been pulled out of its slumber.
Mostly we can attribute this buzz to the coup, which is pulling everything, including linear time, out of alignment. But this week we also can attribute it to some nutty-cuckoo astrology.
It’s not my job to go long on politics (believe me, I’m tempted), so let’s get into the Whether, as I refer to big astrological transits.
Tonight we have a full lunar eclipse. Tomorrow, Mercury retrograde begins. The combined effect is an itchy, sweaty emotional intensity that won’t abate until March 20, the actual vernal equinox.
Honestly? It’s like a seven-day hot flash.
Normally I don’t care much about Mercury retrogrades, which are basically triannual reminders to look up from our phones. But this time, the planet of communication is retrograding along with Venus, the planet of love, in hot-headed, me-first Aries.
Two retrogrades in Aries is such impulsive, willful energy that no one is going to keep their trap shut unless they should be offering an apology or an olive branch. The wrong email/texts/DMs will get sent to the wrong people. The wrong words will be uttered in the worst way at the worst time. The worst showdowns will occur in the worst places.
Already this Venus retrograde has been messy—the breakups have begun, alas—but this next week is when the real volcanos erupt. Riots, crashes, confrontations, cancellations, shutdowns.
I’d be settling in with a big box of popcorn if the drama wasn’t coming for me, too.
“This is the worst of growing up, and I’m beginning to realize it.”—Anne of Green Gables, L.M. Montgomery
Thankfully, tonight’s lunar eclipse adds some old-soul depth to the mix, if also tears. Taking place on the Pisces-Virgo axis—the axis of the ethereal and empirical—it highlights our illusions of control, not to mention our failure to care for ourselves and each other.
As a reminder, we experience pairs of eclipses at least twice a year. New moons correspond with solar eclipses; full moons correspond with lunar eclipses.
Whenever an eclipse occurs, expect major catalysts—massive amplifications and realignments of our paths. Think of eclipses as the storms before the calm: necessarily chaotic, rarely catastrophic.
Because the south node of tonight’s eclipse is in Virgo, we are being prompted to release our perfectionism, judgmentalism, and transactional beliefs. This full moon on steroids exposes how we are overly critical; how we allow anxiety to override intuition; how our resistance to change keeps us small.
Both Virgo and Pisces are healers. Pisces is more of an energy worker, a mystic, a Jungian therapist. Virgo is more of a nurse practitioner, a country physician, a speech or physical therapist. Together, the two ensure God is in the details.
Tonight’s eclipse teaches us to trust that such transpersonal support is real. Unfortunately, it delivers this lesson by illuminating our inner angels and our controlling bullshit. (How’s that for some Mercury in Aries bluntness?)
Rituals, Not Rules
Usually, full moons—especially lunar eclipses—are grand for magic rituals and healing circles. But this one is so accident-prone and explosive that I’m advising more-grounding pursuits.
Begin by preparing for the double retrogrades, whose effects will be exacerbated by this eclipse. Back up your devices. Double-check your correspondence, accounts, self. Free up your schedule as much as possible.
Eclipses can be as dehydrating and disorienting as extremely high altitudes. so don’t push yourself physically or overindulge. Avoid stimulants, artificial substances, and overly processed foods. (Eclipses also can spike blood pressure and sugar.) Drink a lot of water, preferably with lemon to mitigate the toll this agita is taking on your liver.
So much for the don’ts. The dos may surprise you.
First, surround yourself with a psychic shield. (It can be as simple as surrounding yourself with white light.) This will regulate you amid the week's heightened psychic activity—light bulbs popping; heightened intuition and synchronicities; vivid dreams; electronics, especially music players, malfunctioning to unusual, even spooky, effect.
Such phenomena proves that we’re supported and seen across space and time, but it can be a lot to metabolize.
Then start cleaning, even if you usually farm out such work to others. I’m talking about honest-to-goodness rubber gloves, sponges, buckets of soapy water.
During Venus retrogrades, cleaning projects are always advised, and this particular week is ideal for rolling up your sleeves. The action externalizes the extra anxiety we’re feeling and literalizes the clearing facilitated by this eclipse.
God knows earth sign Virgo loves embodied metaphors.
Cleaning is holy, an act of care and respect for the three dimensions that Virgo teaches us to inhabit with diligent compassion. It is quiet work with immediate results, and can be as powerful and self-regulating as sitting in lotus position atop a mountain.
At the beginning of my reading blocks and spiritual rituals, I always deep-clean my space. It declutters my intuition and allows me to tune into others without physically destabilizing myself. I also do this when in serious internal disarray.
So tonight, pick a part of your living space that could use some TLC. Organize a drawer. Scrub your tub. Straighten your altar (always advisable). If the Aries of it all has left you antsy, vacuum your house while dancing with earphones.
It doesn’t matter what you clean, so long as it doesn’t spawn an even bigger mess before you go to bed.
When you’re done, turn off the lights, light a candle, lie on the floor, place your hands at the center of the chest, and begin to breathe deeply. When you’ve fully relaxed into the ground beneath you, see if you can send love to at least three people whom you judge or resent.
I’m not suggesting you channel Mother Teresa here. Start small. Maybe send love to the woman who annoyed you in yoga class. Maybe send it to the woman in class who seemed annoyed by you.
Make sure to send it to yourself.
Afterward, tuck into clean sheets as early as possible and leave a bowl of salt water in the moonlight. In the morning, wash your feet with this water to ground yourself further before beginning the day.
Over the next weeks, we’re going to receive plenty of bulletins from the collective unconscious about how to practically care for each other. Take tonight to care that way for yourself.
“We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them with us into our future.” ― L.M. Montgomery
As discombobulating as this time of year can be, it’s fantastic for lifting the veil and peeking at your path. Though my schedule normally is closed on Thursdays, I’m opening it March 20 for the vernal equinox. Book a reading for yourself or a loved one.
If you found this newsletter useful, consider sharing it or upgrading a subscription. Last week paid subscribers received the first installment of my Venus Retrograde survival guide and a Pisces Season playlist. Next week, they’ll receive the second installment, complete with film and book suggestions.
I bid you stabilizing enchantment, the very best kind.
With waggling eyebrows and slow kitty blinks,
I have so been in the cleaning mood I will continue thank you so much as usual! It really helps