A crab in its shell, a baby in mama’s arms, a warm and loving family, the embrace of home, a gentle process held in a scared container, delicate, soft tissue and a firm exterior, Cancer’s vulnerable heart and protective power braid the core and the contour of an ever curving archetype. The new moon in Cancer invites us into the tides of emotions, into waves of soulfulness, into the dance of sun and moon, of light and night, into the crevices of life’s complexity.
Cancer arrives with the Solstice, and teaches us about cycles, about the turn of the wheel, about reaching the peak and beginning to return, about the depth of feeling, the movement of mind, and the wild wisdom of being embodied.
The archetype of Cancer is entwined with the abundance of Summer, the bounty of food, the generosity of the land when this season, full of nourishment, arrives and unfolds. Have you gone to the farmers market lately? It’s a feast for the eyes and the belly, and it enlivenes all the senses, churning the creative liquidity at the heart of art.
In the Southern Hemisphere, where Cancer ushers in the chill of Winter, the nourishing, nurturing energy of this astrological character, makes a home, and calls the family to sit around the hearth fire and warm up while she cooks a meal that feeds body and soul.
Cancer is the Great Mother. She’s the part of you that wants to make sure everyone is well fed. She is giving and loving and is excited to offer the gifts that she’s grown and cultivated. She wants to show you how to grow your own life in ways that will continue the legacy of her generosity.
She takes you to her garden and invites you to fill your basket. She shows you how to climb the apricot tree and get the most delicious sunshine in a fruit. She gives you a handful of grains to feed the chickens. She takes off her apron and puts it on you, showing you how many pockets it has, and all the tools it holds. She gets on her hands and knees and whispers something to the soil. Her hair is wild and it seems to be woven with sunlight. She smells like peaches and mint. Her laughter is outrageous and contagious, resembling the sound of the waterfall nearby.
After you’ve visited all the tomato bushes in her garden, and tasted the differences between each kind, she calls you from the basil kingdom, and invites you to take in the intoxicating scent of this magical herb. There are so many kinds. Have you ever smelled Lemon Basil? Did you even know it exists? You rub your hands with it, and your breath fills with immediate joy.
With Cancer around, life’s delicious flavors will linger on your tongue. And when sadness and anger arrive, she will hold you in her arms as the feelings storm through you, and offer you some of the broth she made today. It has a special healing power for a broken heart. She knows all about the shattering experiences of life. Her skin is full of scars covered in tattoos of different flowers. She’s endured pain, and she chose, and still chooses every day, to rub it with flower essence and turn it into marks of beauty.
She knows how it feels to go through it. Her grief is as grand as her love. After all, she is Demeter. Every year, after the gorgeous experience of Summer, her daughter, Persephone, disappears into the underworld, and she rages and roars like any mother losing her child would.
She knows what depression is. Her tears know how to form lakes in the basins that it creates. She is Mother Earth, with all the layers, all the experiences, all the ages carved in stone, melted in a molten core, composting and creating soil. She is not someone who stays on the surface. She knows the roots of every plant in her garden, every tree in the woods, every emotion in the heart. The interwoven network under the ground isn’t lost on her. She knows nuance. It’s because she has such depths that she can hold you no matter what you’re going through.
She doesn’t want you to ever get hurt. And when she doesn’t notice, she might hold you too tightly, and forget that she must let you make your own mistakes. When she realizes that she is over protective, she takes that very seriously. She might get a little too hard on herself. She’s gonna need a moment in her shell to sit with her tenderness, and work through the shame spiral she slipped into.
The new moon in Cancer invites you to care for your own tenderness with motherly love, to mother your Inner Child, to see them when they act up, and to respond with care and generosity.
Can I share something personal? My Inner Child has been acting up in the last few days. She has good reasons, and the adult in me can really see where the tantrum is coming from. The reasons for the rage are justified. The behavior? Not something to be proud of. I’m not a big fan of the way that my Inner Child locked my mature self in the basement, and threw the key into the ocean. I’m getting frustrated, because the Mature Mama self meditated her way into the depths of the ocean, found the key, and came back to make dinner for the raging Inner Child. They had a heart to heart, but then the Inner Child tricked the Mature Mama back into the basement and locked her in there again. Argh!
Deep breaths.
I think the shadow of the collective is so intense right now, that it’s really hard to root ourselves in our maturity. I don’t think it’s just me. Is it?
Yet isn’t this the most meaningful thing we can do right now? To put on the big girl pants and go to the garden, sow new moon seeds, learn how to grow in ways that bring value for ourselves and feed others? Don’t we want to be generous and giving and understanding?
I’m not suggesting we should surrender our own needs, not at all! This season’s maturity and generosity are an invitation to be aware of and in conversation with the martyr who hides in the shadow of the Mother. When you find yourself sacrificing yourself, pause. How can you take care of yourself at this moment?
Self care has gotten capitalized, so I want us to be careful of how we internalize this invitation. I think the key here is to continuously build the intricate architecture of our boundaries, while continuing to offer ourselves graciously and benevolently. Maturity is the capacity to hold the firmness of the shell, while being open and giving. Maturity is the ability to say no to certain things, but to stand strong behind our Yes. To let our Yes be a sigh of joy, a HELL YES! Because we’re clear on where our no is.
Caring for self and caring for others don’t stand in contrast to one another. Cancer invites us to feel into the way that the collective and the personal are not separate. Can you feel how we are intertwined with one another, with the wind, and the vines, and the trees? With this archetype, we are called to do the deep work of holding our own ground while not only making room for others to stand tall, but supporting and allowing ourselves to be supported. Caring is NOT controlling.
This new moon is calling us into deeper realms on our journey of generosity. May this lunar cycle guide us into the goodness of our garden, so that we can receive and share it with one other. May we dare to give in ways that inspire and strengthen our connections. May we let ourselves be loved by the land.
One generous thing that you can do very easily, is to send this piece to someone in your life that you think would be into it. I appreciate that so much!
And if this moved you in any way, please subscribe to my mailing list, and get moon messages and other musings in your inbox directly. I’d love to stay in touch! There’s an easy subscribe button below.
Have a meaningful, beautiful, inspiring new moon!
With so much love,
Hagar
PS another great way to stay connected and get inspired is to join me on Subsatck. I’d love to see you there!