It is believed that 10,000 years ago the Paleolithic people looked up at the night sky and saw how it is the Moon that reveals the divine connection between the celestial bodies and earthly bodies...

What was particularly fascinating to them is how the Moon was whole and complete, yet constantly changing. They were in awe of her altering faces, the waxing and waning of her being. It became a representation to them as the whole of nature, as the Mother Goddess from which all life is birthed and returned.

As they witnessed the Moon expanding and lessening, coming to life and withdrawing from life, rebirthing itself, yet returning to itself, they began to understand that lightness and darkness are not opposite, nor are life and death. They are an eternal rhythm.

Ancient astrology believed (and so do I) that we are not separate from nature, we are nature. So, like the Moon, we are whole and yet ever-changing. We experience different phases: moments when we feel fresh and new; full and accomplished; empty and lost. We move through seasons when we wax into the light and wane into the darkness. Times when we are clear, energized and joyful. Other times when we are uncertain, exhausted and heart-heavy.

No matter how terrifying or beautiful the cycle, we are always whole and complete.

Repeat.
You are not broken.
You are whole, holy,
and home to everything it means to be human.
You are the Goddess Moon.

Author of Untamed, Glennon Doyle writes, “Being fully human is not about feeling happy, it’s about feeling everything.”

Feeling the entire messy and dazzling spectrum of human aliveness is what makes us complete. There is no shame in your shame. The feelings you are feeling are pointing you home.

You are rebirthing yourself, and returning to your Self.

This Friday is a lunar eclipse in Scorpio. It is cathartic. It is a long good bye to a story that began in January 2022. Or rather, re-emerged. In fact, this is likely a story you’ve held onto for years.

It’s time to let it go.

Scorpio is the zodiac sign of death and rebirth — an eternal rhythm in nature the Moon teaches us. As winter emerges into spring, we experience death transitioning into new life. Every time night arrives, we say goodbye to day. Every inhale and exhale we breathe is both a release, and a welcome. When we enter a new stage of life, we leave behind an old one. Every ending is a threshold for a new beginning.

Death and rebirth are all around.

I remember the first birthday I spent with my son. Days before he turned 7 years old, he seemed sad. I asked, “Why are you sad? Your birthday will be here soon!” With tears in his eyes, he said, “I’m going to miss being 6.” Every year since, he has repeated this grieving ritual for his birthday. Before he can welcome in the new and the next, he honors the past.

That is the invitation of this Scorpio lunar eclipse. What do you need to leave and grieve before stepping over the threshold? What death is required to rebirth yourself? To return to your Self.

Honoring the past does not mean we need to agree with it. But it does mean we need to be honest about it. This is a time for each of us to lift the veil.

I had this wildly esoteric experience this past month. My front crown fell out of my mouth while biting into a piece of chocolate — in Death Valley of all places, with my in-laws of all people. For 3 days and 3 nights, I felt like the desert tested me (I mean beyond the personal embarrassment of walking around with a missing front tooth). It kept revealing the spaces inside me that still felt incomplete — that still longed for something or someone outside myself to complete me. To love me. See me. Adore me. Understand me.

What pained me the most was the rotten tooth beneath my missing crown. There was no hiding it now. It was a gross looking stump. I felt ashamed.

Several times when I was alone, I would think about this rotten tooth, and spontaneously start to sob. I knew it symbolized something powerful for me, so I asked. The answer was clear — it was my relationship with my mother; and all the ways she could not love me. See me. Adore me. Understand me.

My friend pointed out to me that the tooth is not actually rotten, it’s dead.

I so desperately wanted to be rid of it, but it is a necessary foundation for my crown. You see, some wounds are not meant to heal. They are meant to shape us.

This is what lunar eclipses do, especially in Scorpio. They dig up what has long been buried and too hard to face. But what do you do when you are staring at the mirror, and it’s all you can see?

What do you need to leave and grieve before stepping over the threshold? What death is required to rebirth yourself? To return to your Self.

With the Moon in Scorpio, we have exactly the medicine we need. Scorpio in its highest expression is a conduit to transform our toughest pains. If there was any zodiac sign that can help us alchemize at the level of psyche and soul, it is Scorpio.

Whatever hidden falsehood is eclipsing the truth that you are whole, holy and already home, this may be the time to unearth it.

Don't do this alone. Be in the company of mentors, friends, guides who can be the Moon, mirroring back to you your radiant beauty, when all you can see is your dead tooth, and the relationship you need to grieve.

As I have moved through this alchemical process this past month, I have witnessed how my body is a doula to the death and rebirth happening at my soul level. When you set the intention to unbury what’s been long hidden, it will want to be released through your body. The stomach flare-up, sciatica pain, extreme fatigue, explosive rage, deep grief, even the panic and tears in the dentist chair. I am the safe container for this transition, and transformation.

My invitation is for you to imagine that whatever is emerging from your body this week (and last, and next) — whatever old stories, difficult emotions, and physical pain — imagine that perhaps this is your body and soul’s way of releasing what you are ready to leave and grieve.

Like you would with any rebirth, remember to breathe.

P.S. For those curious: My original tooth injury happened when I was 12-years old and fell 6 feet down into a cellar — hitting my mouth on the concrete stairs on the way down. Two of my front teeth fell out. To make the story more gruesome, the teeth were still dangling on my braces. While a doctor eventually shoved them back into my mouth, they did not survive the trauma.

What are you ready to leave and grieve?