If it’s answers you’re looking for, you won’t find them out here. Not in the night streets bathed in light under the Pisces full moon, not in the creak of katydids, or constellation of shells ravaged by gulls and strewn along the darkened shore. Answers come by way of sorrow and forgiveness, they rise out of that inner swell without warning when we are reading a poem late at night before sleep or riding the bus while summer rain pelts the window. What the world offers you is names, infinite ways of relating to what you see, and no easy solutions. This sort of relating is Sun in Virgo territory, a sacred order, the service of recognition and restoration. According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, the indigenous people of this land had varying names for a moon like this. Some tribes call it the Sturgeon Moon, others the Green Corn Moon. The Dakota Sioux call it The Moon When All Things Ripen, and it’s this name—ominous and generous at once—that sticks with me, that feels good to give to you.
The Moon When All Things Ripen is the last dance; Donna Summer crooning over the static speaker for all the bad girls and the sad girls on the floor that sway in unison. Try to remember it, drink sweating in your hot hand, feeling yourself grow bold as if for the first time, and the music moving through you—moving the whole of you—out past the limits of your ego and toward collective joy. The Leo New Moon opened this cycle and asked you how you wanted to see yourself; it asked you to communicate your powers and your possibilities. Now that the moon is full in Pisces, the self is powerful enough to reach out past the buoys of preservation and empowerment. Here, you are tasked with situating yourself in relation to the larger emotional current, with water as a living breathing thing, with surrender as a means of arriving toward a renewed self. This is the final purge, the freedom of letting go and letting something bigger than you take the wheel.
If that sounds like a tall order, hold on to the image of the last dance, how the melancholy of knowing something is ending can turn into a ritual and a celebration. When all things ripen, they hang heavy and ache to be devoured, then they are a part of us and, also, past. The is the magic of final harvest, of a moon in Pisces—the sign of spiritual and emotional transcendence—closing the book on a summer of soul-reckoning eclipses.
Be mindful of your dreams, reader, because dreams are Piscean playgrounds and there’s not a full moon in history that knew how to resist the foggy terrain of dreamland. What comes to you in these slumbering hours, the images and ideas, are messages. So, write them down. The more you write, the more you will remember and understand.
For those of you with a gift for dreaming, expect lucidity, expect your subconscious to offer you a window to past lives and hidden realities. But, most of all, be on the lookout for dreamwalkers. Dreamwalkers are dream visitors, and while some can be a blessing (think: beloved grandmother, long gone, returning with sacred ancestral knowledge), others are guests who arrive without invitation with self-serving intentions. With Piscean power comes Piscean responsibility, and it’s important to remember what many Pisces are born knowing: what you believe becomes your reality.
This full moon, examine the places in you where self-doubt leaves you susceptible to manipulation and shore up the boundaries you’ve worked tirelessly on this year by tracing their outline. A personal boundary is not a means of separation, it is a tool that teaches us to recognize ourselves when immersed in the energetic light of others. Boundaries are essential for working together and playing together. In this contemporary moment when so much of the world hungers for reprieve from constant loss and incomprehensible violence, when coming together is the only thing that soothes us, it’s essential to know our own power before offering it up to the collective dance. The aim is not to lose ourselves, after all, but to dance together, and in dancing together, make our bodies a river—an offering that reflects the moon back to itself.