Luna grew full early in the morning, today, on December 30, 2020, 03:28 UTC (late in the evening on December 29 if you’re from the USA), at 8°53 Cancer. A Full Moon in an eager, watery Cardinal sign, punctured by an abrasive square to Chiron in Aries, energized by a sextile to Uranus in Taurus, its tidal force pulling all saltwater in our bodies to the surface — blood and tears and trapped emotions overflowing.
The tall, looming shadow of Saturn no longer haunting a Cancer plenilune, this moment feels like floodgates breaking open. It feels like having permission to need, crave and cry all at once and to know ourselves from the inside out once again, cracking ourselves open like a ripe, swollen fruit, courtesy of Chiron finding the right breaches and interstices where to plunge its blade. Sinking our hands into muddy waters, cycling out the remainders of those old, stagnant feelings. This is not a rite of passage. It has nothing to do with new year resolutions. This is about us feeling safe in our bodies again, feeling that it’s safe to emote, feeling our way into ourselves back again.
For the first time in months, years, even (Saturn opposed nearly every Cancer lunation throughout its transit of Capricorn), neediness doesn’t feel inappropriate, or threatening, or constrained by Saturn’s unyielding stoicism. On the contrary, this is a perfect Full Moon to release attachments to anything that doesn’t meet our needs, doesn’t provide the kind of bone-deep nourishment that we yearn for, or the kind of emotional support we deserve. For the first time, we don’t have to earn it. Or work for it. Or prove that we’re worthy of it. The price we paid for this level of radical self-intimacy is measured in the individual and collective trauma many of us have faced throughout this rollercoaster of a year.
We don’t need Saturn in this moment, because Saturn is deep in our marrow now, carrying our whole weight. It’s safe to soften. It’s safe to just be.
Painting by Reiji Hiramatsu.