In the thick of Scorpio season, the full moon in the Scorpion’s opposite sign tends to take the sting out of the month, if only for a few sweet days. She arrives in her Taurean coat of stars as an earthy balm, anchoring us and grounding us, pulling us out of our messy heads and placing us blissfully back where we belong : in our bodies.
Every month in a row the Taurean lunar phase reminds us that it is our sensory perception that shapes our world. The sensualists realm is built on delight and knows that each of our senses proffers its own pleasureable peak. The bodywork moon routinely connects us to the felt world, allowing the natural cycles of our body and our earth to claim their rightful stake on our lives.
Taurus (and this lunation) is ruled by Venus and exalts in any practice that rips us back into our bodies. Food, sex, dancing, gardening, music, yoga… anything you make or do with hands and heart before head. Uranus brings his customary tangents to this full moon party too. Built on shocking you into a new perspective, the changemaker’s delivery may arrive like an illuminating bolt or a circuit breaker. It may shake you from reverie or lift you out of complacency. You are unlikely to see it coming because Uranus is built on the power of surprise.
Our little bulls have a tendency to stubbornly dig their hooves in and refuse to budge so watch any truculent stance, lest you find yourself occupying only your own steaming pile. Neptune nodding at the full moon from afar can mainline the heady haze so beware getting thyself spectacularly fuqed up in record time this weekend. Escapism is not a solution. It will still be Scorpio season when you come back down to earth.
If only briefly, it is the full moon who can lift us up and away from the mire of our shadowlands. Bank her beautiful cheque and allow her to soothe and soften your sore spots, your claws, your addled crazymaker. Scorpion programming resumes once the weekend is over. Until then and as the bright lady gloriously peaks, take time out to smell those roses, run about in that rain, roll in that hay.
Hug don’t hustle.
Make love not war.
Gobble chocolate not kale.
© Kerrie Basha, 2017