Part of a series of Full Moon posts for the LA/OC Pagan Pride newsletter. Rather than zero in on the uniqueness of this particular Full Moon, my interest is in the cyclical sameness of the Gemini Full Moon that recurs ever year in November/ December, when the Sun is in Sagittarius. The Gemini Full Moon for 2018 occurs the evening of November 22, Pacific time. See previous post in this series.
The Full Moon in Gemini recurs every year in November/ December, when the Sun is in Sagittarius. The Full Moon in Gemini for 2018 occurs late in the evening of November 22nd, Pacific time. Gemini is the airiest of air signs, the light breeze of thought untethered by the prosaic demands for linear progressions or moral rectitude. For Gemini, thought is its own raison d’être. Many years ago, a boyfriend told me that looking into my eyes was like visiting the control room of a 16-theatre gigaplex when all the screens were playing a different movie. I have Gemini rising, and this is indeed what it feels like in my mind some times!
I think of Gemini and the Moon as making an unnatural combination. Gemini signifies thought and the Moon signifies feeling; what strange progeny does Luna bear when forced to conceive out of such heady stuff? When a Gemini Moon is well-aspected in a natal chart, we meet souls like the gifted therapist who thrives on dialogue, the one who always perfectly adjusts her tone to the sensitivities of her various clients. Or the talented translator who effortlessly conveys nuance and is “at home” in two languages. Gemini Moon makes a fine pre-school teacher, taking comfort in the rapidly shifting moods and short attention spans of four-year-olds, the archetypal human age to which the sign is often compared.
And yet, Gemini Moon can easily lose the plot in this Information Age, when all its favorite drugs are on offer around the clock. There are those lost souls who believe that the care and feeding of “friendship” can take place entirely over social media accounts. Some Gemini Moons develop addictions to being “plugged in,” and don’t know how to turn off the 24-hour news cycle. Most often, Gemini Moon can’t make sense of these hard, heavy, bodily sensations we call “feelings,” – and doesn’t have to in today’s world! – when there are planes to jump on, friends to call, and the entire canon of human knowledge to catch up on while waiting for the lights to change at the intersection.
I like to imagine Gemini Moon as an ancient bard, the sharpest person in three provinces, gathering up stories and local lore as he travels from place to place, dropping some tales, embellishing others, telling and re-telling and improvising like mad to suit his evening’s auditors. Before books, what did the Gemini Moon do at night? He must have recited the epics he was bound to hold for posterity to himself, and built memory palaces in his mind. Perhaps Gemini Moons were saner, more grounded individuals prior to communications innovations like the telegraph. In those misty times before they became mesmerized by words on a page or text on a screen, Gemini Moons must necessarily have spent a goodly portion of their days listening to others, taking in not only the matter but the meaning.
I intentionally speak very slowly to Gemini natives, not simply to irritate them (although that can be fun), but rather to call attention to the fact that their rapid comprehension of information far outpaces their capacity for understanding. The idea that the Moon is counter to the intellect is not an ancient one; Thoth, the scribe god of the ancient Egyptians, was a lunar deity. Our modern sense that inner life (the Moon) has not to do with data (Mercury) probably stems from the nineteenth-century rise of science and our ongoing quest for an ever-elusive “objectivity.” We are not supposed to “feel” the truth anymore, but rather to know it with our minds; surely something vital about the human experience has been lost when empirical truth is held far above personal gnosis.
A very wise person once said to me that as soon as thoughts turn into feelings, you have no choice but to treat them as feelings. The stress hormones have been let out of the gate and you can’t turn them around; there’s no reasoning your way back now, you simply have to feel, even if the feelings are ridiculous and unfounded. However. If you become adept at noticing which awful, useless thoughts lead inevitably to awful, useless feelings, it is entirely possible to stop this nonsense at the thought stage and skip the feelings entirely. (I should probably mention that this wise person was a cognitive behavioral therapist).
By following this technique I transformed myself from a crazy, depressed person to a person with a high degree of control over her reactivity. You may have noticed that the Tarot cards associated with the Gemini decans are some of the most troubling in the deck: the Eight of Swords – restriction! The Nine of Swords – nightmare! The Ten of Swords – ruin! It’s almost as if your thoughts determine your reality, and Gemini’s ability to conjure chimeras with its mental powers alone gives birth to more monsters than any other sign.
However. You can also become so adept at controlling your thoughts that you become an actual adept, or magician, and not only stop thinking the useless, defeating thoughts but also start thinking the productive ones, and conjure nothing but your wildest dreams. This is how you propel yourself out of those ruinous Gemini decans and into Gemini’s representation in the Major Arcana, the Lover. The Lover is empowered to choose what pleases her. For the upcoming Full Moon in Gemini, I can think of no more powerful spell than to zero in on a thought that you would like to grow into a reality. Fittingly for Gemini’s associations with both youthfulness and verse, this advice comes through as a nursery rhyme. But instead of the Gingerbread Man’s famous taunt, sing:
Jump, jump, as high as you can,
Tell a new story, be a new man.