Thursday 12 March 2009

The Full Moon and my fifteen minutes of fame...














“Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil”
John Milton (1608-1674)

I’m always slightly amazed when I come across astrologers who never seem to look up at the sky. And while I’m by no means the most dedicated of star-watchers, given a clear night and the right time of year, I can usually pick out Taurus (follow the three bright stars of Orion’s belt and you’ll find it halfway between that and the Pleiades), and the curving shape of Scorpio apparently spiking poor old Sagittarius on the bum, or Virgo with Spica – her brightly shining ear of wheat and the lucky star (which for some reason always makes me think of Margaret Thatcher – certainly not everyone's lucky star, that one). The most obvious thing in the sky at any time of year (unless, of course, it's cloudy) is, of course, the moon, which waxes milky full before gently waning to a thin sliver each month as it glides swiftly along the ecliptic, brightening or darkening the sky. The phase and sign of the moon is something traditional astrologers would constantly have been acutely aware of – it seems a shame that, to many astrologers nowadays it’s just another glyph, albeit perhaps a slightly more important one, on a horoscope chart. OK, let's just forget the precession of the equinoxes for a moment (which means Aries is really Pisces and Aquarius can sometimes even be Taurus. Really, it's not something you need to worry about unless you're into biodynamic gardening, and then you just need a different book...)

I’m lucky, admittedly, in that we have very little light pollution here, and our village nestles in a wide, shallow basin which offers an excellent vantage point for star viewing. Even so, the fabulous full moon in Virgo on Tuesday night was clearly visible all over the UK – in fact I got a text from a (non-astrology) friend right across the other side of the country in Tunbridge Wells at about 7pm saying just that: Fabulous moon! I was in the car when my mobile buzzed, trying to track down where I’d left H’s copy of The Guardian which I’d picked up at lunchtime from the shop en route to do about seventeen errands and had left it somewhere along the way (sadly, an all-too regular occurrence...) I parked up alongside the allotments, and there it was – the most beautiful, bright, bright moon hanging low and glowing softly over the sprouts and Bernard's now burgeoning asparagus bed. While I was gazing up at it, another villager passed by, commenting, “What an amazing moon!”.

I knew it must be in Virgo (the full moon is always directly opposite the sun, currently in Pisces), and later that evening I checked my ephemeris – 20 degrees of Virgo – almost slap bang on my Ascendent. Given the moon passes through every degree of the zodiac, every year, there’s always going to be a date somewhere around the 11th of March where it crosses the horizon of my own natal chart, but for the moon to be exactly full at this point is something which happens, on average (given a conservative one-degree orb), just once every 180 years. Not even a once-in-a-lifetime event for most people.

“Hmmm,” I thought. “I bet I get some publicity for the allotments book over the next couple of days…”

The symbolism isn’t remotely obscure or difficult: the bright full moon illuminates the point of the zodiac over which it passes; the moon in full is at its most powerful. Basically, if you’re trying to do something you don’t want anyone to find out about, don’t do it under a full moon – likewise, don’t attempt your next attention-grabbing publicity campaign (or indeed anything you’re going to need recognition for) under a new moon. The energy filters through the sign the moon is in - Virgo: Demeter, Ceres, earth goddess, allotments... It couldn't be more perfect. I always think one striking example of the exposing rays of the moon in full is that early paparazzi shot of Lady Diana Spencer snapped at the kindergarten where she was working with the light shining clean through what she obviously didn’t realise was a diaphanous skirt. That shot sums up for me the effects of the full moon (which, given the nature of pic and the fact that it was probably shot in mid-Spring, was almost certainly in Scorpio!)

In short, if I’d planned the launch of my allotments book to coincide with this March’s full moon, I couldn’t have picked a better moment (In point of fact the idea hadn’t occurred to me). Completely unexpectedly, the story was picked up not only by The Sun, but The Daily Telegraph, The Express, The Metro (although, be warned - I look as though I'm hanging on to the allotment sign for dear life in fear of being suddenly abducted by vegetable-crazed aliens) and I was asked to do down-the-line interviews with BBC Radio Sheffield, Radio Berkshire and Radio Five Live. I’ve also got Cotswold Life coming to shoot the Gardeners’ Question Time recording on Monday for their society pages (Society pages? Me?). I think it may be time to go out shopping for that diaphanous dress…

14 comments:

  1. Hello from a Virgo who absolutely loved this post. Bet that I could learn much, much more from you. I always keep an eye on the moon, even though stars are very hard to see over New York.

    It is terrific that your book is getting this attention. The topic is so very timely in the current economic shakiness.

    Wish we had allotments on Manhattan Island!

    xo

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  2. The moon has been spectacular over here. This very practical and earth bound Taurus recognized that as a good thing - lots of light to illuminate the late night struggle to get enough gravel under the car tires to get it up the hill in the unexpected snow!

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  3. Hi there, I featured you on the Astro Dispatch here:

    http://www.astrodispatch.com/

    Hope you get some hits! :)

    Elsa P

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  4. We get rather too much light pollution than I would like, but the moon is always good. Lovely mystical blog.

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  5. It is such a shame about light pollution, though like Faith we have great views of the moon. Well done on the book LBD - you go girl! xx

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  6. My brother keeps his telescope here for when he comes to visit from the orange skies of Birmingham - he loves our clear night skies. Another moon watcher here too - my Mum and I often text "Have u seen the moon?!"

    Congratulations on the book!xx

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  7. Wow you're so knowledgeable LBD - I am learning so much from you, please carry on! I so nearly put up a post in the common room on Tuesday about the moon, but I got distracted by the kids. Do you ever do charts for other people? I'd pay the going rate! I'm hopeless at spotting constellations, so thanks for this.

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  8. It was a fantastic moon. Huge and hanging on the horizon when my optimistic husband tried to photograph it. Very powerful thing I think.

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  9. Oh yes, like sm I would love to have a chart done. Husband would scoff and be amazed that oh so analytical and logical me would be interested but I have always felt a pull towards astrology. so many congratulations on your allotment book publicity. Love the idea of it shining there under the full moon!

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  10. Isn't it funny, I made the boys look at teh moon, and meant to check up on it later, but didn't and now, darn it, another 180 years to wait.

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  11. It was an amazing moon. I went dashing up the hill to get a better look! I didn't realise it was in Virgo though (another Virgo here). I didn't get any publicity - but I did do a lot of gardening!

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  12. You little media tart you! Love that the book is getting the attention it deserves.
    Moon was so flipping huge and bright last night it woke me up (no curtains)....

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  13. Top blog LBD. I'm not really an astrology person (blushes) but I'd read my stars if you were writing them.

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  14. You are very fortunate to be free from light pollution.

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