New Moon in Cancer

What is possible when we co-create with nature?

My friend sent me this song/spoken word mashup, and I can’t stop listening:

---

Dear relatives,

As you may know, last year I gave myself the goal of writing a weekly series on nature writing. To stay consistent, I created an editorial calendar highlighting the work of people of color—who, by and large, are under-represented in environmental writing. Twenty essays were published throughout the project, and, in several months, I understood what it looks like and feels like to take my writing seriously. I ended up exploring a genre that I am passionate about, and I also started to find my voice. I’ve compiled all the essays into one post, and you can read the full series here.

Since it’s been almost a year since the first essay in the series was published, I’ve been thinking about why I started it. More broadly, I wonder, what drives us to take on certain projects, and not others? Is the impetus in the heart or the gut? Or both? And that quickening sensation, the one that signals the body and mind to prepare for something, where does it begin? From where can we trace our desire to act, to make, to move?

If I write about nature, or rather, with nature, what do I learn about being a part of nature? If I accomplish what I hope in my writing, then a part of the work is to communicate with my ancestors, and with the Earth. At least, that is the goal. To trace the thread back to my grandmother’s garden—a place I knew well as a child—where everything was alive and abundant. And through that connection I can follow other tendrils as they unfurl, leading me further into the realm of deep time.

From the soil to the stars. This week, on July 5, 2024, at 6:57 pm ET, we will be graced with a New Moon in Cancer. Ruled by the Moon, the sign of the Crab moves in a circuitous fashion to get where it’s going. This movement is with purpose because, for them, it is protective and more efficient. It communicates something. How one moves through the world can also express one’s love for the world. We protect what and who we love.

Cancer is a river going home to the ocean, it initiates, and hinges. Cancer remembers the flow that birthed it. This New Moon in Cancer, I invite you to give yourself time to remember what it feels like to be open and curious about the world. What do you risk by turning away? Your love for the world is worth protecting. What is possible when you commit to your vision for it?

Cancer helps us to feel, to remember what is tender. As Saturn, the planet of discipline, is now moving retrograde through Pisces, the sign of intuition, we can review what has transpired since last spring. I’ve been navigating themes related to transformations and intersections. It’s been an intensive lesson in boundaries, emotional labor, and interpersonal and intergenerational relationships. If you’re a Leo rising, like me, you may have been experiencing this, too.

Saturn in Pisces is like touching the bottom of the ocean. If they have anything in common, it is a reverence for enduring consciousness. If you know your rising sign, look to the place in your chart where Pisces is, and that will show you the area of your life Saturn is currently working through. There you might have the feeling of something coming into form. I’d love to hear how you’ve been navigating this Saturn transit in the comments.

With gratitude,

Christian