In with the new: The Great Conjunction

Image credit: Vicki and Chuck Rogers

Image credit: Vicki and Chuck Rogers

Solstice greetings!

In addition to marking the beginning of Capricorn season, the first day of winter and the moment when the days begin to grow longer (praise be!) for all of us in the northern hemisphere, today marks an astrological event that Chani Nicholas calls "one of the most important astrological reboots we’ll ever live though." The "Great Conjunction" between Saturn and Jupiter brings these two outer planets into alignment in the first degree of Aquarius. Whereas for the past 200 years these planets have aligned in earth signs, today marks a new cycle into what astrologers are calling the Age of Aquarius.

With the movement of these two planets out of conservative Capricorn into idealistic Aquarius, we are collectively poised for a major energetic shift that will be felt as an expansion (Jupiter) in relationship to our systems and social structures (Saturn).

It’s about time.

As Chani puts it, "Our systems are archaic and long-overdue a reconstruction. In true Aquarius fashion, we must leave enough space between our personal attachments and the needs of the collective in order for the most innovative ideas to emerge." Aquarius is known for its principled commitment to the collective good, along with its innovative and unconventional approaches. Whereas the past 200 years have been focused on practical and material matters (industrial revolution, anyone?), the Age of Aquarius offers us previously unheard of ideas and transformative possibilities. I don’t know about you, but I'm here for it.

I pulled three cards to help provide some collective guidance as we shift into this new energetic era.

What we’re releasing: Ten of Wands

Deck: Smith-Rider-Waite

Deck: Smith-Rider-Waite

I love that this card came up in this position. The traditional imagery for this card pictures a figure struggling to carry ten large wands up a hill. At this point in our journey, we have learned how to shoulder the burdens we carry (big Capricorn/Saturn vibes!). But we have yet to learn that in order to truly thrive, we must find ways to lighten our load — either by letting go of the baggage we no longer need to carry, or by allowing others to help us.

The Ten of Wands was my card for Sagittarius season, and over the past month I had to learn how to ask for help in ways that made me extremely uncomfortable — but were ultimately incredibly transformative. For one thing, a few weeks ago I injured my back while carrying a heavy box up the stairs (lift from the legs, my friends!) and was completely incapacitated for five days — I couldn’t walk unassisted, I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t sit, I couldn’t bend over to put on my socks. The physical pain wasn’t fun but the thing that was hardest for me was learning how to accept the help and support I very clearly needed. I’m lucky to have a partner who was more than willing to assist me and because I had no other choice, I had to accept that help. And in the process I also had to confront my own internalized shame about being dependent on someone else. And in the process I realized that it’s not enough to theorize about why the myth of rugged individualism is a piece of capitalist trash — we actually have to confront our own investments in it. We have to face the vulnerability that lurks just below the surface of our dogged "I’m fine" insistence that we carry all the wands ourselves.

At the end of the day, we all need help. And the fact that our culture teaches us that this basic human need is a cause for shame is deeply disturbing (and deeply ableist).

During this same time period, I was also forced to venture far outside my comfort zone by asking for help in an entirely different venue, from another group of people. A couple of weeks ago I gave my first-ever "tarot inspired group coaching workshop" — it was very new territory for my (still quite fledgling) coaching business and the first time I officially combined tarot and coaching in a public-facing way. While I was super excited about the content and knew that I would do a good job of facilitating the workshop, I had very little confidence that anyone would actually sign up. Especially since the idea of aggressively publicizing said workshop on social media made me feel equal parts ill and terrified. Not unrelated: I was low-key scared that if I did publicize it, all my friends and acquaintances (many of whom are academics) would lose all respect for me because "tarot-inspired coaching" sounds pretty out there.

Luckily, a come-to-Jesus session with my own very excellent coach helped me to realize that my fears were not exactly founded in evidence. And once I was able to get the anxiety mosquitos under control, I was able to do something that I have always had a hard time with: ask all my friends for help. I was thrilled that in the end, 30 people signed up for my workshop, which ended up being an incredibly magical experience. But the magic wasn’t that 30 people materialized out of thin air. The magic was that this particular group of awesome folks found their way to my corner of the interweb because I took the risk to put the information out there, and then took the even bigger risk to ask all my friends to help me spread the word.

And I am so appreciative that I was able to learn the lesson of the Ten of Wands. Because the other piece of the lesson is that allowing other people to help us is a profoundly beautiful and meaningful experience. If we reframe the situation from "I need help" to "I am open to receiving the support that is willingly and gladly given to me," we can begin to undo some of the damage that a culture of scarcity has done to our ability to be interdependent.

Think about it. Do the capitalists want all of us to start calling in the support and assistance we need from our communities? Absolutely the fuck not.

Because if people realized that we actually DO have the resources to provide for one another (and the ability to collectively organize to redistribute the resources we need!), the whole system would grind to a halt. There is a multi-billion dollar industry designed to convince us that we are not enough, and that our individual shortcomings are a source of shame, and that the only answer is to work ourselves to death in the hopes of "fulfillment" (with a side of retail therapy).

I am someone who loves helping others. I’m an Enneagram 3w2 (actually leaning 2w3 these days). The feeling of being able to truly be of service to someone is one of my favorite feelings. (Before you get the wrong idea about me, other top feels include "I told you so" and "winning." The Taurus/Virgo is strong.) And it was a total mindfuck when one day someone (my same very smart coach, in fact) said to me "by refusing to ask for help, you’re preventing all the people who care about you from getting to have that feeling."

Even if you are capable of CARRYING ALL OF THE WANDS ALL BY YOURSELF, what connections might you be missing out on if you refuse to allow anyone else to assist you? What would happen if we saw "asking for help" as an opportunity to build the networks of mutual trust and care that are truly the foundation of any revolutionary movement?

Deck: Light-Seers Tarot by Chris-Anne

Deck: Light-Seers Tarot by Chris-Anne

What we are ready to heal: Knight of Wands rx

The Knight of Wands reversed represents what’s blocking us from fully stepping into our unique mode of being in the world. The Knight of Wands is fiery and fierce and free and completely unapologetic. She lets her hair down, dyes it purple, shaves it off, and most importantly doesn’t give AF what anyone thinks. She marches to the beat of her own drum, and her energy is so infectious that she inspires everyone around her to dance to their own rhythm as well.

The Knight of Wands wants us to lean in to whatever it is that makes us entirely different and therefore irreplaceable. She says: "You have something to offer that no other person in the entire world has. What are you waiting for?"

What ARE we waiting for? If it’s permission to be the boldest loudest weirdest version of yourself, the Knight of Wands is here to give you that permission.

Not coincidentally, this card showed up a ton for me as I was developing my workshop. In the face of self-doubt aplenty, this card reminded me that even if it sounded weird, my particular brand of "tarot-inspired coaching" is indeed the thing that I am uniquely positioned to offer. And if my experience is any indication, it turns out that when you finally gain the courage to stand up and say "hey, here’s the thing I do" even though no one else is doing exactly that, it turns out that it’s all the more important for you to be doing it — precisely because no one else is doing exactly that!

Deck: Smith-Rider-Waite

Deck: Smith-Rider-Waite

The Star, ruled by Aquarius, is a hugely potent source of healing. Coming after the Tower, this card meets us at our most vulnerable after the foundations of what we thought we knew have crumbled around us. In the Smith Rider-Waite deck, the Star is represented as a naked figure kneeling at the edge of a pool. With one foot on land and one seemingly floating on water, this water-bearer (Aquarius) holds two vessels, from which water pours. As a symbol of interconnection between body (earth) and emotions (water), the Star reminds us that our individual healing journeys are inextricably linked to our collective healing journey.

Most of us have inherited trauma that prevents us from letting our freak flags fully fly.

How can you call on the energy of the Star to help you step into your Knight of Wands calling? What parts of you need to be healed in order to cast aside your anxiety and doubt and say "this is who I am and this is what I’m doing." What fears do you need to release? What would it feel like to unconditionally accept yourself for exactly who you are? What would it feel like to know that you are showing up in the world to make the unique contribution that only you are capable of making?

Deck: Mother Tarot by Wren McMurdo

Deck: Mother Tarot by Wren McMurdo

What is ready to expand: Ace of Swords

It would be hard to think of a more appropriate card for this brand new Age of Aquarius energy. The Swords correspond to the element air (Aquarius, despite sounding watery, is an air sign) and the aces are of course about new beginnings. To me, this card represents the opportunity to use our minds and intellect in a completely new way; a chance to align ourselves with the truths we hold to be essential. At their best, the Swords help us to be more discerning, to cut through the bullshit society tells us to believe (and the bullshit our own brains tell us to believe!). The Ace is a powerful tool that we can use to question authority and speak truth to power — but only if we so choose. Like any other tarot card, the Ace is an invitation. We are the ones who have find the courage to wield the sword.

But Jupiter is here to help. The planet of luck and opportunity, Jupiter is associated with learning, growth, and expansion. If Saturn is all about creating structures and following rules, Jupiter is far more carefree, bringing optimism and enthusiasm aplenty. Jupiter is the Chris Traeger to Saturn’s Ben Wyatt. And right about now, we could all use a dose of optimism and enthusiasm. As we reach for the Ace of Swords, we are also reaching toward a whole new paradigm. We have the choice to cut ourselves free from our binds to oppressive structures and outdated beliefs. We have the opportunity to wield a new kind of power: the power of conviction to speak our truth. And by doing so, to usher in a new era. One in which our voices are heard. In which our lives experiences are respected and celebrated. In which our visions for the future become the blueprints for new modes of collective belonging.

Welcome to the next 200 years of existence. What’s your move?

 

Ready for more woo? If you want to kick off the Age of Aquarius with a unique tarot-inspired group coaching journey led by yours truly, check out my brand-new 8 week program: PORTAL: Practical Magic for Personal Expansion. Register before Dec 24 and save $111!

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Election 2020: The spiritual crisis of whiteness