Tonight, the moon is new, the number at the end of the year's date is new, and yet what's coming has come before and is known to us. Of the books that haunted her from the moment she encountered them in her childhood, Marina Tsvetaeva wrote: "For the spell is older than experience. For the tale is older than record." When I was a child, books were my only refuge, the place where no adult could ever follow me, the place where violence lived but never touched me. But, before I had books, before language came to me, once as a birthright and again as a fracture from my origin, I had the moon.
The moon was my first storyteller. The one who put me to bed at night and, if I looked at it long enough, I would see a face, a rabbit, a wolf, or a girl crying; each of these animals told me their story and it was my story, too. Tonight the moon is new in Capricorn but that is not all. Tonight, the moon dares to step in the path of our sun, and the curve of her shadow will form a partial solar eclipse, visible in some parts of Eastern Asia, Alaska, and the North Pacific Ocean, but perceptible to anyone who has listened to the moon's stories.
When the moon steps in the front of the sun, a shadow is cast and a piece of night slips into our waking day. What are the pieces that make up your night, reader? What worries do you lay down with at day's end? What dreams do you pray for and what dreams haunt you? (This is the part of the post when I hear Stevie Nicks singing like a ghost "YOU CAN'T GET AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THE WOMAN THAT LOVED YOU," take that or leave it) but If you are a lucid dreamer, or a person who remembers much of their dream state, you recognize which surfaces in the subconscious are what gnaws at your conscious spirit.
One of Sappho's fragments states: "What is not said will be wept." I think it's not a stretch to add that what is not said will be dreamt. Do not worry, soft one, no amount of dreaming will replace your urge to weep. This month, the work between the sun, moon, Saturn, Neptune and the stars of Capricorn, will have us rich in tears and heavy with dreams. And, when I say tears I mean present-day heartache and a grief that is lifetimes old. And, when I say dreams I mean subconscious and I also mean aspirations. Our visions of our personal and collective futures. We will wake with both, walk with both, hold that duality. In this way, we will embody the duality of the Sun and moon coming together and the duality of a moon that rules Cancer choosing to spin under the light of Cancer's opposing sign, Capricorn.
What can you do with a night like that, a night whose shadowy dark promises to haunt you throughout the month and the eclipses that follow? I've had visions, reader, of eating sacred mushrooms, rubbing myself down with salve made with snakeskin, in a room lit by candles soaked in moon-water; waiting for my guides, calling down all angels. That way, or something like it, is a good way to go for those of us unafraid of poison, those of us with a penchant for making a spell of our lives—knowing as we do now that the spell we live through is older than our lives and the mysteries we encounter in moments of unknowing and loss are our greatest teachers.
Don't fret if candles and salves and mushrooms seem a little close to the edge for your comfort. Each of us walks a sacred path and magic is not always so visible, so clearly marked or marketed. A dear friend of mine came to my bedroom this morning. She is a Cancer with a Capricorn moon. She brought me a bowl full of strawberries, a half hour of emotion-processing, and two drawings she believes will guide my readers through this new moon. One is an anchor and one is a quill pen with an inkwell. To live inside the chaos, to make of the chaos a creative journey, to send out your missives and your intentions—projects, propositions—you'll need an anchor, something that grounds you while you do the emotional/creative/mental work. Both are drawn in pencil so they are impermanent. What you send out now, you don't have to pledge your life to, so don't worry about it being perfect. Where you choose to cast your anchor need not be your place forever, so don't worry about forever.
Act in accordance to your present moment, give yourself what you need now. It's the only thing within your power, so use your power, that's what the moon would do.