Which Relationship Is Eclipsed Now? 

Tonight’s full moon eclipse in the sign of Libra is part of a pair of eclipses which will be completed with the total solar eclipse over the US in Aries on April 8th. Both eclipses occur on the Aries/Libra axis of “the individual vs relationships.” This includes all kinds of relationships we have with both people and things, including the healthy and the unhealthy. It relates to whatever we are devoted to.

This eclipse energy is ultimately about the relationship to the self because what we see around us is merely the state of our mind. Even the worst relationships are a choice, for whatever reasons we tender. 

It’s tough to emphasize ourselves when it’s so much easier to blame others. Yes, it’s uncomfortable to look within when we are accustomed to projecting ourselves upon others. It’s also difficult to make waves when we believe our sanity and safety depend upon maintaining what is. But just as that beer didn’t jump into our hands, neither did that relationship happen in a vacuum. Both are a reflection of choices made. 

This eclipse will push us to make a choice for ourselves, with ourselves, mainly because that’s our primary relationship. 

This hit home for me the other day. A dear friend suggested I write a children’s book. I looked into the believing mirrors of my friends’ eyes and realized they were reflecting to me my own desire. That idea has been on my to-do list for a while. 

And then Resistance spoke up. Who do you think you are?

Then Steven Pressfield entered the conversation in my head. He said, “Put your ass where your heart wants to be.” In his book, The War of Art, he makes the case that to answer the inner call of being an artist or creator of any kind is to honor the God of Art within us. 

The ah-hah moment came when I realized that my desire to write is not simply an avocation or hobby I must sideline for “real work” in the “real world,” rather, it’s the sacred reverence for the holiness of art in me. To honor that is not to worship an idol, but to exalt the Great Creator in me. 

This relationship with my Divine Self, with the holy part of Me, the artist and artistry, is not idolatry; it’s a relationship of service to Love. 

Because making up stuff and writing it down is what I love.

And to praise that is to adore the God of Love. 

The crone-ish storyteller in me, standing centerstage in my life, is the Light of the Divine in human form. 

In that moment, I understood that writing and illustrating this book would no longer be an afterthought, for that would be making God an afterthought. Making Love an afterthought? Hell no.

If I purport myself to be a visionary leader ushering in a New Earth, and I do, then gone is the old way of practicality, stoicism, and hard labor. The New Earth residents will be those who will never have to work a day in their lives because they are passionately creating a life they love with the gifts, talents, and unique designs with which they are made. 

To slightly alter a clip from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the play’s the thing that will turn the hearts and minds of kings and queens. The fact is that I have known since I was 5 years old that my voice matters. And now, with no one left to tell me that isn’t true, I am here, showing up, in a holy relationship with the God of Art, adoring the God of Art in me. 

I am playing. A playmate having a playdate. The play’s the thing, after all. 

So let’s play. I’ll play me. You play you. 

No masks allowed though. If I’m going to be the real me, I expect the same of you.

So now, as the why of my existence clicks into focus, into something I can choose, decide, touch, and dedicate my life to, I must also face the feelings, the fear, and the foreboding reality of life in the trenches with art. 

It’s a bit like an addict committing to the step of “coming to understand that only a higher power can restore me to sanity.” Only my habitual pattern of behavior in life is about always being the good girl, the stoic, the practical, and the responsible one. To let go of her is to let go of my security blanket and the way I safely navigate a crazy world. 

To stand up for the art in me is not a fancy or fleeting pleasure. This is a life makeover. To make art my vocation, my reason for being, in a world that does not place value on it is almost as insane as an alcoholic continuing to drink. 

I have no illusions that I can do this without grace. None at all. 

And yet I also know, without a doubt, that this devotion to being Me is the mindful practice of allowing a Life Force to flow unobstructed through me, like a kundalini awaking. I must tell her she can have her way with me, this muse, and she can have centerstage in my life, not the leftovers. No matter what. The statue in the stone must come to life. 

Change through courage. The harmony of the art and the artist. This is Aries/Libra energy axis. The individual comes into balance, into inner harmony, through some act of inner bravery or temerity. And then the relationship to the outer world shifts. And so it goes. 

Look out.

I wonder…how about you? What relationship will eclipse for you?

I finally dared to put Me at the center of my life. It’s like eclipsing all my old habitual ways of being in this world to restore me to sanity. Familial patterns ended. Karma cleared. Sober. It ends with us.

I’m not a drinker. But I am a shrinker. Same thing though. A habitual diminisher of the light in me. Hiding in the shadows. Now I’m looking for my sober self, wondering what she looks like. Time will tell. Only my ‘sober’ means that art replaces being a reliable, pragmatic manager. 

Any addict is the diminisher of their own light because we agree to the terms of engagement with those we think we need. It’s all in the addictive high of having kept our silence long enough to be semi-respected, semi-valued, and to have a semi-place to semi-belong, albeit at some cost. All the while I’m habitually losing my self-respect and self-value. 

And the tip of my tongue I keep biting off.

Don’t tell me my life isn’t working. I know that. But you also cannot tell me it’s because I’m not responsible enough. Don’t even hint at the idea that I’m not enough of something, anything. If my life isn’t currently working it’s because who I truly am isn’t being honored, revered, albeit worshipped by me. 

And I do have the courage to change that.

It’s a beingness issue. I’m enough; in fact, I’m plenty. More than enough, I’m a lot. But I’ve also been living in a closet. In some shadow place where no one can find me and hurt me and tell me I’m not enough of something and call the holy part of me crazy. 

Do you want proof I’m not crazy? I don’t have it. Because all your measuring sticks are whack. They consist of funhouse mirrors of distortion and doom. 

No, they don’t want me sober. They want me compliant. Safe. Tame. Yes-sir. For all these years, The Responsible One has kept them safe. She drank the cup of her limited salvation and kept herself and everyone else safe, and ALIVE. Semi-salvation is merely “not death” by most standards of measure. Go figure.

And as it turns out, “not death” is just slightly above rotting. 

I declare: no one is ever allowed to tell me again that they promise to feed me and make me feel semi-good, and that’s as good as it gets. No one can ever advise me again that ‘living the dream’ lies somewhere between the trees and life after death. No, immersion in nature isn’t my salvation nor is it in some land far away called heaven. Nope. 

Salvation is inside of me. She is Me.

She’s the statue in the stone. The work of art, the artist and the artistry. She is the Pygmalion I’m bringing to life by loving her. She is Me. The capital M is the God part. And from now on, she is the One I worship. Because God made me her. She was always my true salvation. 

She is the Queen of Audacity.

And on this Palm Sunday, she is the one who is riding into town on an ass today. My ass is going where my heart wants to be. And here I am, at the keyboard, writing. I’m the one I’m honoring with palms and flowers and shouting “All hail” at. The wordsmith is the Christ in me. And how do I  know this? Because she is Love, light, healing, miraculous, and not of this world. She teaches forgiveness and faith, equity and justice, a truth that sets the captives free. 

She is the Christ with boots on the ground and fingers poised over the keys.

She’s got the sword of truth that will cut you open and slice out the painful parts and she’s got the oil of joy, the balm to heal and soothe your mourning. She has also been hauled off to the cross, dead, buried AND she came back to life. 

And she’s here to stay. Welcome home. All Hail the Conquering Audacious Crone.

Distilled to three words for today: Change through Courage.