What The Full Moon In Taurus Means For Your Love Life

It’s a time for the sensuous among us

When the moon is full in Taurus, our hearts swell with the largeness of her like lazy lovers who are content to stay in bed all afternoon, licking their buttery fingers clean of late breakfast croissants, telling each other the stories of their lives. I’m thinking now of a section in 21 Love Poems by Adrienne Rich (Taurus) where she writes:

You’ve kissed my hair/

to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,/

I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . ./

and I laugh and fall dreaming again

I’m thinking about the pleasure of knowing someone, of recognition, of the innumerable joys we’re capable of experiencing in relation to each other. The Taurus full moon is arduous in her affection, her light pounds down on the earth and opens the field. Her steady eye looks back at you and isn’t afraid to see you for who you are, good and bad—and to love you both ways. 

We need the full moon to oppose the Sun. We need Taurus’s conviction and unshakeable sense of self when Scorpio dominates the sky, hosting so many planets, doing her damnedest to set all bodies of water on fire. I know you feel it, reader, something in your heart changing—a power you forgot was yours, an electric chord in your blood stream, an echo like a whale’s song rippling over you with messages a long time coming. Scorpio Sun charges us to change, to burn away the excess and rise out of the pyre like a mother of dragons. Scorpio Sun pushes our obsessions to dangerous heights, deals in ruinous secrets, holds rituals of healing and circles of debauchery. Scorpio Sun needs the Taurus full moon like our passions need warm live things to surrender to, like our ancestral dreams need worldly purpose, like our chaos seeks the will to change. Our Earthly moon turns toward us and draws night open like a dark curtain. Behold me, she commands softly, behold me from the quiet place within you where trouble rests and strength resides. 

Taurus moon comes over us something like a caesura in the night sky, pregnant with silence, a dramatic rest. She wants your precious stones laid out before her, she wants to cup your precious face with her celestial rays and call you by your name. Listen for it. Practice reciprocity and be generous with the moon, give her a long moment of your time. Ground your body on any floor that will have you, close your eyes, and feel her above you. Let the moon in the sky become the moon of your mind, draw the moon down through the crown of you. Let her fill you up with moonlight and the secrets all dark things know.

Have you lost too much this year? What remains when the flood waters reside? Make a vow to the earth in you, the vistas and the sea floors. Once you were a hurricane, once you were a book of ruin, once you were a lightning storm burning down your own towers—labors to the god of destruction—but now you are a different season. Apple-fall, leaf splendor, coo of mourning doves, street incense against brisk air, your hard work was not wasted, your love was not wasted and could never be.