The Super Blood Moon is rising, and by the time you read this, your heart might be a bonfire. By the time you read this, every letter you’ve saved from every lover who has ever left has disappeared in the night—devoured by a demon that thrives off of sorrow. And, maybe you’re worried, maybe you’ve never stood close to a fire this big before. Maybe you were saving those letters for after your death so that someone who is blood of your blood would read them and say, “Yes, she was loved.” What happens after your death is none of your business. Beloved, come closer to your own fire and out of your shadows; don’t hoard what is abundant in this life. Make room for gold and all the light it casts. Say you are abundant, contain multitudes, and let the demons who dog you in your sleep and know your name eat your sorrow so that every living thing is fed.
This month, the Lunar Eclipse will compel you to be brave in the face of pain, to claim what you fear so you no longer fear it. Look again at that bonfire in you and what serves as kindling. What precious parts of your life do you keep burning down and what do you refuse to hear so that you might keep that pattern going? Have you pushed away those who got too close so that you might not have to see yourself so clearly? Have you stood between yourself and your own promise, ditching deadlines, dreading intimacy, avoiding the inevitable knock of opportunity lest you are called to live up to your own potential? Own your disasters, your coping mechanisms, your bullshit. What served you once won’t serve you now. When you know it’s yours, you know how to let it go. The universe stays difficult, sweet one, it’s you who gets to learn when it’s time to lay a burden down.
Say you are wiser than you’ve ever been because life gave you teachers. Admit that some teachers give you books and some give you the kind of apples that show you what paradise can never be. Outside of the paradise, we are taught to imagine is the world we must learn to love and everything in it, where death presses tight against birth until there is no separation. This is how we move through grief, this is how we enter joy. Outside the paradise we imagine, our moon blushes red sliding close to the Earth and grows large as if struck with the eros of darkness. Remember the Solar Eclipse? The corona a gold ring, a vow. This Lunar Eclipse asks you back to the altar to renew your commitment. Surrender, and this afterglow is for you.
The illusion of control isn’t freedom, it’s alienation. Reacquaint yourself with yourself.
Let the Leo Full Moon teach you self-love the way only a Leo can. Make your room your temple. Put on whatever makes you feel beautiful, and if nothing makes you feel beautiful, then take everything off. Your mirror is a well to drink from, so stare into your own eyes longer than feels comfortable, let yourself feel vain, feel like Narcissus, but keep looking. All the planets of the universe, their dust and grace, live in your gaze. Welcome them home to your body, the bones and flesh of it, a body that protects the stars in you. You can touch yourself, you can touch yourself toward no destination, as if you’re waking to find yourself in bed with a lover you have been missing for months. Fan your fingers over your ribcage and thank it for protecting your heart, press your palm to your face because your face is precious, press your fingers to your lips and acknowledge their power. Your lips that open gently and break unbearable silences.