Happiness is not a side quest!
On my solar return and luminary remediation
Most of the writing I’ve shared so far with y’all has been informative but, as I exit my winter hiatus, I’ve decided I want to try my hand at something new. Inspired by Chloe’s recent newsletter on Meeting the Moon, today I’ve decided to offer a more personal essay about my ongoing journey of connection with my luminaries.
This isn’t meant to be informative or instructional, but rather to share my own personal experience. I hope to offer you a model of how I’ve approached this work and what you might expect if you choose to embark on your own remediation journey.
The Sun in Capricorn reflected in a lake beside a copse of trees
What even is astrological remediation?
I prefer to define remediation in the absolute broadest sense: using astrological tools to heal our lives. Astrology is a fantastically specific diagnostic tool for pinpointing problems in the life. To pursue solutions for these challenges, we use remedies.
“Astrological remediation” is not as highfalutin as it may sound—it means simply to use astrology to identify the right kinds of medicine for your nativity.
Luna: my first love, first teacher, and first healer
It seems like the natural place to start is with some basic details about my own chart With the most love in my heart, I can tell you for certain that my natal Moon is absolutely befuckèd.
I was born hours before the new Moon in Capricorn, meaning that she is waning, in her sign of exile, invisible and burnt up by the Sun. She is also conjoined to an extra sharp exalted Mars, averse to her domicile ruler, in a dark house…the list goes on. The first thing I heard about my Moon when I had my chart opened for me by a reader was, “whoa, oof”—which, in that moment, broke my heart. The more astrology I learned, the more closely I could inspect her, and the more afflictions I found. Oof, oof, oof.
To tell you the truth, it was very hard to hear at every turn how ““bad”” my Moon was. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved her. One of my earliest memories is riding in my carseat at night in my mother’s car, craning my neck until it ached because I couldn’t take my eyes off the full Moon. But, still, despite my adoration of the Moon, the Moon problems in my life felt very clear once I’d attained the language to describe them.
I had dreadfully dry skin with regular, punishing eczema flareups. My diet and hunger cues were completely dysregulated. I found my mother so triggering that I could barely be around her—and I didn’t feel that she respected me. I was fun at parties, but as soon as friends and lovers attempted to get close to me, I would push them away. It was impossible for me to trust people to care for me, which made me seem flighty, cold, and uncaring.
אם אתה מאמין שיכולים לקלקל, תאמין שיכולים לתקן
If you believe breaking is possible, believe fixing is possible.
—Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, from Likutei Moharan 2:112
What could a remedy consist of? What could its effects look like?
I quickly tired of learning to describe my problems with extreme specificity—I needed solutions. I came to astrology after a long journey through a range of occult practices and study of traditional medicine, which I really think was a blessing for me, perhaps one of the gifts of my exalted Mars to my challenged Moon. Through pursuing the connections between my nativity and the esoteric crafts I’d already been studying, the remedies began to open to me.
My lunar journey started off relatively simple, even though it blossomed into something so much bigger than I could have expected at the outset. I started off with a book on the connection between astrology and the body, and a 4 week course on planetary wellness. From that I developed my first lunar practice: on Mondays, I said the Orphic hymn to Selene and drank a pot of marshmallow root cold infusion.
For me, a good remedy hits 3 key points:
Some kind of timing element to bring the planet you want to work with to prominence (Monday, the day of the Moon)
Some kind of prayer, song, or poem in honor of the planet you want to work with (the Orphic Hymn to Selene)
Some kind of physical action related to the sphere of the planet you want to work with (drinking marshmallow root cold infusion)
The choice of which practice to embark on can be a bit overwhelming because there’s so much to pick from. Herbs? Foods? Magic? Planetary charity? This is definitely the place where getting a prescription from a qualified astrologer who offers remediation sessions could offer a shortcut, but I do think there’s also something to be said about following your heart! I chose to work with marshmallow because it was a plant that appeared to be indicated for the chronic system-wide dryness described by my natal Moon, but, more than that, I chose marshmallow because the plant moved me at some soul-level. Its appearance brought me peace, its smell made me smile, and although I experienced an initial aversion to its taste, I began to crave it before long.
The sensory element is worth highlighting. When working with difficult placements, it seems to be common to experience a natural aversion to things that belong to the sphere of the challenged planet. I still remember my first taste of marshmallow root. It was the worst thing I could imagine! Tepid and thick, it tasted like licking the back of a cupboard. Its texture was revolting; it took everything in me not to spit it out.
But the second time I tasted it, I wasn’t so sure.
Was it slightly sweet? Maybe even almost creamy? Did it taste like dust, or did it taste like the smell of freshly turned compost? After a few Mondays of drinking it for my remedy, I started to really look forward to it, even make extra rounds of it, just for fun. As I started to measure this practice on the scale of months instead of weeks, I began to become more comfortable with some of my lunar challenges.
“Mujer saliendo del psicoanalista / Woman Leaving the Psychoanalyst” by Remedios Varo
I embarked on my journey with the Moon in Spring of 2019, and I was amazed to see the ways that this simple practice opened up into something that has become a key part of my lifestyle. By my solar return in 2020, I had lost the timing element to my marshmallow root practice—it had just become a constant feature of my life. Over the last 4 years, I’ve introduced a number of different lunar practices into my life, some of which naturally ran their course, and others of which became fixtures of my life, like my loving devotion to the plant marshmallow.
Here are a few more ideas of things I’ve done to support and care for my Moon:
Take regular pilgrimages to bodies of water like creeks, rivers, lakes, or the ocean. Bonus points if you can go for a swim and double-bonus point they aren’t manmade!
Immerse myself in baths with salt and/or favored lunar herbs.
Eat fermented lunar foods like my life depended on it. Some of my favorites have been kimchi, sauerkraut, yogurt, cheese—have you ever heard of tibicos/water kefir?! It doesn’t get more lunar than fermented water.
Wear silver, white gold, and quartz. At first it was just on Mondays, now I rarely go a day without lunar stones and/or metals on me in some way. It truly feels like my energy body can’t get enough of it!
Take rest seriously. The nocturnal times are of equal importance to our thriving as the diurnal ones.
Give tzedakah in the form of time or money to parents and children in my community whenever possible.
Happiness is not a side quest!
Sometimes, taking the easy way out is actually quite challenging to me. I suppose that makes sense for my extremely saturnine chart. One of the biggest lessons of working with my Moon is this: maybe it doesn’t always have to be so serious!
זכור תמיד: השמחה איננה עניין שולי במסעך הרוחני – היא חיונית
Always remember: happiness is not a side quest in your spiritual journey—it is essential!
— Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, adapted from his teachings in the book, הכסא הריק The Empty Chair
Vitality of our spirits and bodies is kindled through Sol and Luna—the luminaries work in tandem with one another, more than any other grouping of planets. As I now begin counting my lunar devotions by the years now, I’ve come to realize that perhaps I’ve taken my Sun for granted.
The Sun would be generally considered to be peregrine in Capricorn, but he takes a unique form of dignity as one of the rulers of the third decan. Even being a wanderer in a strange place, the Sun in my nativity had plenty of tricks up his sleeve to make it work. It would be a lie to say I didn’t have solar issues too, but in comparison to the way I’d struggled with my Moon, those problems seemed so much smaller. After years of work with the Moon though, I find myself looking for more sunlight.
I have a tendency to discard positive feelings while ruminating on the negative ones—it’s very common for those of us with saturnine excess. Of course, me being me, I ran straight for the tallest hill to climb, rather than working my way up to the top. I have no regrets for the route I chose. I know it was authentic to me and that devoting myself to the Moon has been an ecstatic and love-filled experience. But I do have to wonder if I have discarded happiness too easily.
This year, governed by Venus, my solar return occurred at dawn, just as the sky began to brighten. Under the auspices of Venus and the rising Sun, I hope to make happiness my main quest!