An ode to a full moon over the desert

Dear Friends,

We’re on the brink of a full moon and in the home stretch of a Venus retrograde. By the time you read this, Venus will likely be direct.

This is relevant because, over the past several weeks, I’ve been going back and re-reading my journal from the last time Venus was retrograde in this part of my chart. That was 2017, a major year of transformation for me.

In March of 2017, I was living in a converted garage on an older woman’s property in Cottonwood, Arizona, which is right next to Sedona on one side and Jerome on the other. The woman’s name was Susie. She was mostly blind and kept her daughter’s horse in the front yard. She was very kind. Bruce sometimes chased the horse.

I had moved there kind of on a whim, after reading Maynard James Keenan’s co-written memoir, A Perfect Union of Contrary Things — which describes his decision to move to Jerome, kind of on a whim — and Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire.

I also got a job there, working as a reporter for the Verde Independent. I quit after the first day and went for a long run instead of going into the office a second time.

No regrets.

But I also went because the Verde Valley is full of energy vortexes, and I had some deep healing to do.

I ended up leaving Susie’s place abruptly after her roommate’s dog bit me and Bruce. He was an angry, jealous dog.

Before moving out of Susie’s, I found a studio cottage rental in Dunsmuir, California, and had a nanny gig lined up for a rich family that paid me well enough to earn my monthly rent in a long weekend.

But the cottage wouldn’t be ready for four weeks, so I put most of my things in storage, loaded Bruce up in the car, and embarked on what I can only describe as a vision quest. Four weeks of roaming and running around Red Rock Secret Mountain Wilderness, the Grand Canyon, Flagstaff, Moab, and Durango.

I slept on the ground, dug holes for a toilet, didn’t answer my phone, and, one time, legitimately thought I was going to die in my tent in a windstorm.

I spent too much time with my dog, and the only other person I talked to was my journal. I took acid and marveled at the desert wildflowers at dusk.

It was the most transformative experience of my life. Maybe tied with ayahuasca ceremonies in the Peruvian Amazon.

But, before I left, I went on a glorious early morning run and got to witness the glory of a full moon setting as the sun was rising on the other side of the horizon. And in the desert, you can see it all at once.

As I was reading through my old journal last month during the lunar eclipse, I found an entry about that long run under the setting full moon. I’ve been wanting to share it here since I found it last month, but so many things have been changing in my life, it almost feels like a middle-aged growth spurt. My bones hurt!

Not really. Anyway, I’m going to share it now because it’s still hella relevant. Luna is full, and if you scroll down a bit, you can see that the tarot card I pulled for you agrees.

the silvery strands of meadow grass bathed in moonlight

the way the pre-dawn desert air smells like sweat waiting to happen

the so-many colors of the sky, only interrupted by the dark silhouette of a dendritic desert plant

how hardcore, they are

how I want to know all their names, so I can greet them properly next time

being all by myself

losing my way, over and over

learning things the hard way

knowing what I’m capable of

not being one of those fools, zooming by at 70mph

toward something they think is oh_so_ important

all that’s changed in the last 7 years of my life

the belief that I can do anything

Your tarot card for this full moon: The Moon

I can’t remember the last time I pulled The Moon, but I know it’s appeared recently in this newsletter. For me, this card represents shadow work, deep transformation, and a little bit of mystery. Sometimes, fear creates false notions of what lies in the dark, shadowy corners of our subconscious. But then, when we muster the courage to explore those areas, we may be surprised by what we find.

The Moon also brings the message, “the only way out is through.” It’s like that scene in the first season of Stranger Things, when Eleven finally confronts the big, dark blob she had been hiding from for several episodes. The exact thing she’s been struggling to avoid is what she must do to save her friends and herself.

Maybe you aren’t being haunted by a literal dark blob, but perhaps there’s something — a metaphorical pebble in your shoe — that’s calling for your attention. Perhaps you’ve had some unsettling dreams or one of those feelings in the pit of your stomach.

Listen now. Heed the call. Move toward the thing you’ve been avoiding with curiosity. When fear and doubt inevitably voice their protest, calmly tell them, “Not today.”

I’m doing this work, too. I’m right there with you.

This spring has ushered in many changes in my personal life – all are good, and all bring me closer to where I want to be, but the relief and release have brought their own special shock to my nervous system. More than once, I’ve referred to this season as “The Great Unclenching” because my body feels like it’s just begun to relax after years of tension.

When stress is your default, rest can feel dangerous.

Now, with all that said, I’m not going to pretend that the positive shifts in my personal life have in any way canceled out the daily horrors happening in America and other parts of the world. I’m terrified about the injustice occurring at the executive level of the US government. I’m scared for my friends and loved ones who immigrated from other countries. I’m worried about all the good, decent people working federal jobs, including the post office I just left. I’m disgusted by the deportations, the inhumanity, and the disregard for our Constitutional rights.

I’m angry.

It may seem counterintuitive to unplug, go inward, and focus on yourself when there’s so_damn_much to be angry about. I understand.

But I like to think of it this way – each one of us is a thread in a great tapestry or a single cell in a highly complex organism. If we are depleted, weakened, or overstressed, then we cannot do our job. We can’t hold onto the threads next to us if we’re unraveling ourselves.

Rest so that we may Resist, friends. Your physical, spiritual, emotional, and mental health are always worth paying attention to. We cannot heal the disease in this system without first pouring love and support into ourselves.

As always, thank you for reading, and have a blessed full moon!

I love you,

XoLauren