Eclipses: Turning Time
by April Elliott Kent

I’m not a sound sleeper. The question each night is not whether I’ll wake up, but whether I’ll be able to get back to sleep once I do. Some restless nights my eyes open and my mind immediately begins flitting from topic to topic like a fickle honeybee. I think about getting older, and about the unsettling physical changes than come with age. But it’s not just the physical signs of aging that are unnerving. You reach a certain age and realize that just as you’re beginning to perfect your swing, it’s time to get out of the way and let the next generation have its turn at bat. And you’re apt to feel the slightest bit disheartened about how few points you’ve put up on the scoreboard.

Last night, I also found myself thinking about an elderly neighbor who for years made daily treks past our house on her way to and from the bus stop. Margaret lived alone in a nice looking old Spanish-style bungalow at the end of our block. Walking by her house at night it was possible to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a hoarder’s paradise inside. She was also the sort of person who likes to chat and doesn’t recognize when it’s time to move on, and I’m ashamed to admit I sometimes went out of my way to avoid getting caught up in a conversation with her. I hardly knew her at all, really, until my husband and I happened to witness an accident in which a backing car knocked Margaret down. We called 911 and stayed with her until paramedics arrived; fortunately she suffered only some scrapes and a broken wrist.

I talked to her more after that. But it wasn’t until I noticed a dumpster parked in Margaret’s driveway that I realized I hadn’t seen her in awhile. I hope she's simply moved into an assisted living facility. But really, I don’t know if she’s alive or dead. I wonder how many people do; I never saw visitors at her house, nor the lively comings and goings of friends or family.

Many women I know admit to "bag lady" fantasies, fears of being left alone and impoverished in old age, of simply dropping out of sight without being missed. Margaret awakened that fear in me – the fear not of impoverishment, so much, but of aloneness. For some reason, the same aloneness that can be so delicious when we’re young and strong becomes dreadful to contemplate for our old age.

Eclipses in Cancer/Capricorn

This Full Moon’s lunar eclipse in Cancer is the latest in the Cancer/Capricorn eclipse cycle– the axis of hearth and of worldliness, and of the often uneasy balancing of the two. When eclipses fall in Cancer and Capricorn (most recently in 2000/2001; 1992; 1986/87; 1982) we reach a crisis in direction. Are we standing in a true and stable place, and are our worldly ambitions in alignment with the yearnings of our hearts?

We may fear becoming bag ladies, or simply alone, like Margaret; that’s a Cancerian eclipse fear, born of estrangement from the root system that nourishes us. Or we may fear that we’ll die without having achieved our most treasured goals, not as a "has-been" but as a "never-was;" these Capricornian fears tell us we’ve lost sight of what makes us truly important.

It’s no wonder that Cancer/Capricorn eclipse seasons can be times when the urge is strong to make a radical change, to pull up stakes and move around the world, to quit one’s job and see the country in an Airstream camper. Families may feel less cohesive than they used to, and more and more of us find our careers stalled by the recession. During the next year, as eclipses fall in these critical signs, it’s time to face the twin terrors of the bag lady and the failed company man.

Turning Time

Eclipses are associated with crisis, and with unstable situations. But crisis is also defined as "a crucial stage or turning point in the course of something." The turning point aspect of eclipses is the one I find most compelling. Eclipses can indeed mark moments when life feels unstable, even scary; this is most often the case when an eclipse falls within a few degrees of a natal planet or angle. But instability always offers the opportunity for change. When we have been heated up by the unbearable friction of life’s difficulties, we are soft, malleable, and free to assume a new form. Crises – and eclipses – can be disorienting, but they can also be liberating.

The key is in navigating the turning point. Are you afraid of being alone? Tap into the family ties, and even the geographical landmarks, that center you and make you feel safe and connected. Do you fear dying without leaving your mark on the world? Think about the people who have meant the most to you, and you’ll probably realize that making a real difference to one person can be a much more powerful legacy than being a darling of the tabloids.

Few of us are completely free from fear or worry in these bleak times. Cancerian fears about home and security and Capricorn worries about status and career are perhaps the most pervasive of all. But the Cancer/Capricorn polarity also offers a strategy for solace and growth, and for staying anchored in the rough waters of hard times. If you feel lonely and vulnerable, find the taproot that sustains you – often family, pets, and close friends – and nurture it with all the love and attention you can muster. And rather than dwelling on lost status, squandered youth, or accolades that may never be yours, focus instead on lending support to those who need your experience - and on what you have to offer a world that needs the unique gifts that are yours alone to give.

© 2009 by April Elliott Kent
All rights reserved

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