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Lesson of a Libra Moon
May. 10th, 2024 02:12 amMy Sun and Mercury are Cazimi in Gemini and there's so many thoughts in my head I can't keep track of them all. I don't even try anymore. But one that keeps coming back is about my nightly anxiety. A friend called it Sundown Anxiety. Which is true. When I'm left all alone with myself and my thoughts, it's a haunting place filled with ghosts of the past who insist upon floating about the fringes of my subconscious.
Now don't get me wrong. I love solitude. The night time used to be a truly peace filled place for me. A time where I could breathe and flow with the currents of the universe without the noise and chatter of humanity. I love doing my own thing while in a house full of people, or with a partner. But my Libra moon doesn't appreciate or love the fact that I am truly on my own now. For the first time in my life, I am my own family. That's not to say I don't have my parents, or brother. That I don't have my chosen family. But for the last 17 years I've had someone I thought I could count on. And now I don't, and for the longest time after he passed, it felt like my nervous system was hemorrhaging into the abyss never to heal again.
My natal chart is about healing other people. About writing and magic, and guiding those around me to healing in a subtle way they likely will never know about. I see it every day, and I often wonder when it's my turn to experience the magic I bring to others. That's not to say I don't have certain people in my life who build me up. I don't want to ignore them or discredit what they do. But the magic of having a partner who really sees me for me, without judgement and holds space for my spirituality and I for them is something I long to experience.
I have an 11th house Libra Moon. She is in the house of hopes and dreams, groups, friends and networks, conjunct Saturn and Pluto, and in a whole house stellium with Mars as well, and opposite my part of fortune exactly. I won't lie, it's a lonely existence. I crave connection and openness, but I'm also tired and afraid of being hurt again and again. I'm often not listened to. Even today, I had a cashier overcharge me after not listening to me. I'm talked over, ignored, and that's why I often simply allow my voice to be silenced in large groups unless I'm comfortable with them. Which since I often feel like a conversation ender, is few and far between.
I'm not whining, simply telling the truth as I've experienced it. And this is where the Lesson I think comes in. Libra loves love, magic, music, beauty, making beautiful things, connection, words. And I've often heard a Libra Moon has a magic tongue and golden words. We are soft creatures who want everyone in our lives to be happy. We want reciprocity and in a self sufficiency driven world that's something often not given. Which honestly is sad, because humans are pack creatures. We are meant to be in groups. We are meant to help each other and breathe life into one another via validation, support, encouragement, etc. Obviously you have to keep the dependency in check, but to be solely self sufficient is a toxic thing. That's why hyper independence is a bad thing.
And I think part of the lesson to learn is who is worthy of sharing that magic with. Which on several key occasions I've allowed my mind to overtake my moon and cause me to misjudge the situation through rose colored glasses, resulting in my continuous shattering. I accept my responsibility in that. My Libra Moon wanted to believe the best in someone instead of the reality of the situation, and when combined with my Taurus Venus resulted in believing that best instead of what they showed me. Which I've since learned that you should believe what someone shows you they are instead of what they say they are. But I digress.
I've been through so much in my life at almost 42 that I often wonder how I've survived it all. And to be a little vulnerable here, one of my first memories is at my grandfathers funeral. And since then I've been to my brother's funeral, husband's funeral, the funeral of all my grandparents and several cousins/aunts/uncles, 3 of my former grandparent in laws funerals, and many many others. I loathe funerals. Sometimes I feel like everything I touch dies, which isn't the case, but to say I'm a bright and shining child of Hades sent to heal the death workers and grieving wouldn't be untrue. I have an 8h North Node. Of course death and transformation is something I need to learn to get comfortable with.
But it's something that will be hard for my Libra Moon. I crave balance and peace. Which at this point my mind perceives peace as a threat—a danger beyond my comprehension and when I'm alone at night the worst will happen because it's happened twice before. That peace was shattered into dust by other people during a time I cultivated to be a time of peace and comfort. And I have to resolve that I couldn't control that shattering and not allow it to continue to shatter my peace every night.
Sometimes I'm alright, and sometimes I'm not. And that's okay. One thing that Libra Moon isn't afraid of is doing the hard work to strike a balance in the scales. It even hails to a tattoo I have that reminds me that it takes courage to make the hard decisions in life. That I am a warrior within my own life, fighting to heal, fighting to not propagate what I went through. Right now I do have peace for the most part, and I've build that peace with my own hands and hard work. To be honest, this journal was a way to regain some amount of structure within the confines of the chaos.
And yet, one thing in that fight that needs to happen is to understand that despite my Moon's craving for fairness, balance, and justice is that I can't control what happens TO me. I can only control what goes on within my own heart, and I want so desperately to release control. And yet, Control kept me safe. Control kept me some what self contained during years and years of struggle. Control kept me safe within the chaos I lived in for many years. But I have to trust the process, to let the fingernails holding to the control break so I can freefall into the blessings I'm sure the Universe has in store for me. And I am, but at night it's hard to experience the soulful peace I used to.
A Libra Moon is a thing of beauty when cultivated properly. But when harmed, it's shattered beyond comprehension and oftentimes takes gentle hands of those around them to help pick them up. Yes, I am strong enough to do it myself, but knowing I have people who believe in me, and people who say "You've got this" mean so much more to me than I'll be able to express. We are the Moons who often forget to celebrate ourselves. So to learn to receive the celebration we so freely give is a thing of beauty.
That being said, if you have a Libra Moon friend, check after them completely unprompted. Surprise them with a thank you, or some sort of words of affirmation. Maybe even an act of service. I know as a Libra Moon, I tear up every single time someone sends me a thank you or kind message to wake up to. It means so much more than we'll ever express. Lonely is torture to a Libra Moon. By reaching out, you're showing us that you are a safe place to come. Chances are, your Libra Moon friend is the sunshine character who if you touched even a fraction of their pain, you'd crumple under. And yet they possess a quiet strength that keeps it all together for the sake of everyone around them.
I remember at my husband's memorial service, I had no less than 6 panic attacks—all of which I excused myself for and refused to allow guests to see. And yet, I kept it together and was openly ridiculed and criticized for it, because I knew my direct in-laws needed me strong. That if the depth of my grief was shown throughout the whole service, that they would crumple as well. Perhaps that is a selfish way of thinking of it, but it's what I felt at the time. No one saw my grief until the end, when I felt safe enough to collapse in a pile of soul rending sobs and wails without a huge audience of extended family that glared and sneered at me through the whole service thinking I didn't see it. But I did. And I count myself fortunate to have had several people around me at the time to catch me. I'll be forever grateful for the space they held for me to finally express my grief, allowing me a moment's reprieve from the mask.
If you want to get to know a Libra Moon, create peace around us. Let our hearts know that we are safe to open up—that we don't have to keep the facade of stoic strength up. Give back to us in a fashion that you see us give, for example for me it's acts of service. And we'll open up to you much like the moonflower only blooms under the rays of the moon. When we do, you'll discover depths you never though an air sign moon capable of. So be gentle with us and use kid gloves. And we'll weave magic into your life that you never new existed.
~NMD
Connect with me across platforms:
https://abssolutealchemy.com
Now don't get me wrong. I love solitude. The night time used to be a truly peace filled place for me. A time where I could breathe and flow with the currents of the universe without the noise and chatter of humanity. I love doing my own thing while in a house full of people, or with a partner. But my Libra moon doesn't appreciate or love the fact that I am truly on my own now. For the first time in my life, I am my own family. That's not to say I don't have my parents, or brother. That I don't have my chosen family. But for the last 17 years I've had someone I thought I could count on. And now I don't, and for the longest time after he passed, it felt like my nervous system was hemorrhaging into the abyss never to heal again.
My natal chart is about healing other people. About writing and magic, and guiding those around me to healing in a subtle way they likely will never know about. I see it every day, and I often wonder when it's my turn to experience the magic I bring to others. That's not to say I don't have certain people in my life who build me up. I don't want to ignore them or discredit what they do. But the magic of having a partner who really sees me for me, without judgement and holds space for my spirituality and I for them is something I long to experience.
I have an 11th house Libra Moon. She is in the house of hopes and dreams, groups, friends and networks, conjunct Saturn and Pluto, and in a whole house stellium with Mars as well, and opposite my part of fortune exactly. I won't lie, it's a lonely existence. I crave connection and openness, but I'm also tired and afraid of being hurt again and again. I'm often not listened to. Even today, I had a cashier overcharge me after not listening to me. I'm talked over, ignored, and that's why I often simply allow my voice to be silenced in large groups unless I'm comfortable with them. Which since I often feel like a conversation ender, is few and far between.
I'm not whining, simply telling the truth as I've experienced it. And this is where the Lesson I think comes in. Libra loves love, magic, music, beauty, making beautiful things, connection, words. And I've often heard a Libra Moon has a magic tongue and golden words. We are soft creatures who want everyone in our lives to be happy. We want reciprocity and in a self sufficiency driven world that's something often not given. Which honestly is sad, because humans are pack creatures. We are meant to be in groups. We are meant to help each other and breathe life into one another via validation, support, encouragement, etc. Obviously you have to keep the dependency in check, but to be solely self sufficient is a toxic thing. That's why hyper independence is a bad thing.
And I think part of the lesson to learn is who is worthy of sharing that magic with. Which on several key occasions I've allowed my mind to overtake my moon and cause me to misjudge the situation through rose colored glasses, resulting in my continuous shattering. I accept my responsibility in that. My Libra Moon wanted to believe the best in someone instead of the reality of the situation, and when combined with my Taurus Venus resulted in believing that best instead of what they showed me. Which I've since learned that you should believe what someone shows you they are instead of what they say they are. But I digress.
I've been through so much in my life at almost 42 that I often wonder how I've survived it all. And to be a little vulnerable here, one of my first memories is at my grandfathers funeral. And since then I've been to my brother's funeral, husband's funeral, the funeral of all my grandparents and several cousins/aunts/uncles, 3 of my former grandparent in laws funerals, and many many others. I loathe funerals. Sometimes I feel like everything I touch dies, which isn't the case, but to say I'm a bright and shining child of Hades sent to heal the death workers and grieving wouldn't be untrue. I have an 8h North Node. Of course death and transformation is something I need to learn to get comfortable with.
But it's something that will be hard for my Libra Moon. I crave balance and peace. Which at this point my mind perceives peace as a threat—a danger beyond my comprehension and when I'm alone at night the worst will happen because it's happened twice before. That peace was shattered into dust by other people during a time I cultivated to be a time of peace and comfort. And I have to resolve that I couldn't control that shattering and not allow it to continue to shatter my peace every night.
Sometimes I'm alright, and sometimes I'm not. And that's okay. One thing that Libra Moon isn't afraid of is doing the hard work to strike a balance in the scales. It even hails to a tattoo I have that reminds me that it takes courage to make the hard decisions in life. That I am a warrior within my own life, fighting to heal, fighting to not propagate what I went through. Right now I do have peace for the most part, and I've build that peace with my own hands and hard work. To be honest, this journal was a way to regain some amount of structure within the confines of the chaos.
And yet, one thing in that fight that needs to happen is to understand that despite my Moon's craving for fairness, balance, and justice is that I can't control what happens TO me. I can only control what goes on within my own heart, and I want so desperately to release control. And yet, Control kept me safe. Control kept me some what self contained during years and years of struggle. Control kept me safe within the chaos I lived in for many years. But I have to trust the process, to let the fingernails holding to the control break so I can freefall into the blessings I'm sure the Universe has in store for me. And I am, but at night it's hard to experience the soulful peace I used to.
A Libra Moon is a thing of beauty when cultivated properly. But when harmed, it's shattered beyond comprehension and oftentimes takes gentle hands of those around them to help pick them up. Yes, I am strong enough to do it myself, but knowing I have people who believe in me, and people who say "You've got this" mean so much more to me than I'll be able to express. We are the Moons who often forget to celebrate ourselves. So to learn to receive the celebration we so freely give is a thing of beauty.
That being said, if you have a Libra Moon friend, check after them completely unprompted. Surprise them with a thank you, or some sort of words of affirmation. Maybe even an act of service. I know as a Libra Moon, I tear up every single time someone sends me a thank you or kind message to wake up to. It means so much more than we'll ever express. Lonely is torture to a Libra Moon. By reaching out, you're showing us that you are a safe place to come. Chances are, your Libra Moon friend is the sunshine character who if you touched even a fraction of their pain, you'd crumple under. And yet they possess a quiet strength that keeps it all together for the sake of everyone around them.
I remember at my husband's memorial service, I had no less than 6 panic attacks—all of which I excused myself for and refused to allow guests to see. And yet, I kept it together and was openly ridiculed and criticized for it, because I knew my direct in-laws needed me strong. That if the depth of my grief was shown throughout the whole service, that they would crumple as well. Perhaps that is a selfish way of thinking of it, but it's what I felt at the time. No one saw my grief until the end, when I felt safe enough to collapse in a pile of soul rending sobs and wails without a huge audience of extended family that glared and sneered at me through the whole service thinking I didn't see it. But I did. And I count myself fortunate to have had several people around me at the time to catch me. I'll be forever grateful for the space they held for me to finally express my grief, allowing me a moment's reprieve from the mask.
If you want to get to know a Libra Moon, create peace around us. Let our hearts know that we are safe to open up—that we don't have to keep the facade of stoic strength up. Give back to us in a fashion that you see us give, for example for me it's acts of service. And we'll open up to you much like the moonflower only blooms under the rays of the moon. When we do, you'll discover depths you never though an air sign moon capable of. So be gentle with us and use kid gloves. And we'll weave magic into your life that you never new existed.
~NMD
Connect with me across platforms:
https://abssolutealchemy.com
