As a transracial adoptee, one thing I have learned to love about astrology are the origin stories. Astrology exemplifies the power in naming something. When we can pinpoint a sense, define, articulate, that’s when we are able to take action. It is this illumination that can quill the insatiability of seeking.
Astrology can be a resource for self knowing, of why we are the way we are, when as an adoptee, who you are and where you come from, is often a cold case.
So, when I got the life shattering opportunity to be reunited with my birth mother, back in 2010, I was also given some origin stories. Like, my feet, apparently they are from my birth father.
But one of the first origin stories I received, when the reunification was happening, was a story about my birthday. It wasn’t 4/20 like I had been celebrating my entire life. I was told it was March 5th. My mind was blown. My identity demolished.
At that time, I was into horoscopes but did not have the depth to interpret this information except to switch zodiac identities, from Taurus Sun to Pisces.
I preferred to think of myself as a fish, than a bull. I knew I was stubborn, but didn’t feel much alignment with Taurus. I felt akin to water, to indecisiveness. Now, I know that my sun, moon, and rising signs are all pretty incompatible with each other. That in many ways, different versions of myself are bullies to other versions of myself. My point being, my Taurus self is still used to being quiet, suppressed, and ashamed at worst.
When I learned the glyph for Pisces were two fish tied together, that flow in circles, I saw myself in this, as I sometimes catch myself walking in circles when I find my sense of urgency and anxiety takes over.
In hindsight, this mismatched identity is very Neptunian, which is the ruling planet of Pisces. You are what you say you are, even if what you say you are is an untruth. Just as your reflection is you, but it isn’t you. If you picture seeing your reflection in the surface of a pond, this is Neptune, wavering self reflection.
Yet, it can be through those obscurities, those ripples that we slip into a deeper version of our self; our spirit or soul, which is our unhindered form. Our emotions only exist because they have a human container.
Pisces can work with energy that is illuminated and kept in the dark. Sometimes we need the lack of vision, to trust and source our intuition, in order to make a move that perhaps on paper tells us to choose differently.
Eventually, I would learn that my birthday is not the 20th like I believed, but still keeps me a Taurus. And that actually there is very little water activated in my chart.
It doesn’t really matter if I am a Pisces Sun or not. I still walk in circles sometimes. And this self discovery, allows me to take a breath, a pause, when this surplus movement is activated. Knowing that I walk in circles, is a sign that I’m stressed out.
My life isn’t any less authentic because I followed the Pisces horoscope instead of Taurus for the past several years. It matters only that I read horoscopes to self soothe, to self understand. That I responded to what I could relate. This is how Pisces strategizes with our emotions, rather than just inviting us to feel them.
This Pisces Full Moon is a time to reflect on the difference between feeling our feelings, and honoring them. When we honor our feelings we are seeing them as a gift, as a friend, as a way to elevate, to heal, even if the feeling itself is jealousy, anger, depression.
Pisces teaches us to strategize with our emotions, how do we take a feeling and use it even more to our benefit. All feelings are useful in and of themselves, but Pisces takes catharsis one step further. If something frustrating happens to us, Pisces energy will see it also as an opportunity to explore and learn from that frustration, or how to grow from it, or how to heal with it.
The moon is next to Neptune now; both in the sign of Pisces. It’s like when you’re crying in the shower, and you can’t distinguish between the water and your tears.
Our third eye is activated with this full moon. We see clearly what can’t be seen. We hold space for contradiction—and see the value in both messages. We are heavy in the romance of language, touch, and vision. We allow ourselves, or are forced to move through that which is intangible. What can’t be seen will be potent. The veil between worlds is growing thinner, as we prepare for the season’s transition. This is the time to ask our spirits and ancestors for assistance, in what we want to manifest.
With the moon also sextiling Pluto in Capricorn, it’s giving us Ariel (the mermaid) wants legs vibes, with the access to 3D print them, but less for love and more for career advancement. Neptune conjunct with Pluto means the invisible becomes touchable. The ability to transform the frustrations into solutions will be smooth. Or if not, the value behind the decision will be enough to assuage you through the process.
Pisces takes intuition seriously. In our culture, so steadfast on capital, on paper, on touch, a harvest moon in the sign of the two fish is a collaborative, congenial and congratulatory omen, albeit felt not seen. Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac, so it is mature, it is wise, and it is self sufficient at best. A blessing and a sign of hope for us from Mother Earth as we come closer to the end of 2021.
Our feelings are signals. Signs are meant to warn or direct us. The sign itself is not the destination, but encourages us on our way there. Pisces is a river, where Cancer is the ocean and Scorpio is ice. Rivers are for transporting, they flow towards something, it is this movement and utility that gives it definition. Pisces reminds us that acknowledgement, naming what we feel is how we find flow. To move in the direction with flow is how we honor ourselves, our emotions.
As always, the invitation is to take up space with your own reflections. You can send them to sarah@littleshaco.com if you want them to be witnessed.
Ciao for now,
Sarah, your unPisces Sun