(after the) Full Moon in Cancer

when you're cooked, you're cooked

I’m baaaaaaack! Hi friends. I’ve been trying to get it together for over a week now to write about the Full Moon in Cancer. Beyond the unavoidable American malaise and dread, I’ve been dealing with some heavy and stressful life tasks of my own. I know many of you are too. It’s hard out here!

(Also just a quick note before we get into it, because I’ve been behind on email, I never officially announced that my books are open for the last week of January and first week of February. I still have a few spots left! Grab one if you want to take a look at the current skies or your year ahead. Next time books will be open is around the Spring Equinox.)

Astrologically, we’ve been in the thick of it. This week (on January 21), the Sun made its annual conjunction with Pluto. Our life force energy meets the planet of mutation and extremes. The political theater of that inauguration with the plutocrats in the front row, the burn it all down showmanship, and the extreme collective rage/anxiety/anticipation around it was a photoreal depiction of Sun-Pluto energy. It might seem like hope is lost, the bad guys have won. The thing about these Plutonian times, which are currently being put into high gear by Mars retrograde making everything frustratingly slow and emotional, is that though it feels urgent like a bomb threat, it’s not. What’s happening is nuclear decay.

The night before the Full Moon in Cancer, looking for inspiration, I dug into Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy & Grace, a philosophical tome disguised as a practical guide to cooking. I almost couldn’t believe it when I opened the book to the first chapter titled, “How to Boil Water.” January 13’s Full Moon in Cancer was when we reached a boiling point.

On how to prepare boiled vegetables, Adler writes,

“Bring a pot of water to boil, add salt, and taste. Drop the vegetables into the water and then let them cook, stirring once or twice. This does not, contrary to a lot of cooking advice, take only a minute. You don’t need to stand over the pot, because your vegetables don’t need to be ‘crisp’ or ‘crisp tender’ when they come out.

For boiled vegetables to taste really delicious, they need to be cooked. Most of ours aren’t. Undercooking is a justifiable reaction to the 1950s tendency to cook vegetables to collapse. But the pendulum has swung too far.”

A Cancer moon wants to nourish, prepare a hearty meal for her loved ones, but with Mars retrograde in Cancer alongside the Full Moon, we need more than just a fridge to table charcuterie board. We have to work with the heat.

Yes, of course, there’s the reasonable worry of “overcooking,” overstaying one’s welcome, going too far. But blanching and half-heartedness won’t do in these times.

On what happens after boiling, Adler continues,

“There seems to be pressure these days to ‘shock’ vegetables by submerging them in ice water to stop their cooking. The argument in favor of shocking vegetables is that it keeps them from changing color…

As a rule, I try not to shock anything. I also don’t think keeping a vegetable from looking cooked when it is cooked is worth the fuss.”

The Full Moon in Cancer revealed our desires and what lengths we’ll go to make that desire a reality. It also revealed what’s keeping us from what we want. Full moons always have this polarity. With Mars retrograde, there’s also a lot of exhaustion and frustration in the air. When you’re cooked, you’re cooked. There’s no use pretending not to be.

*

Last week, I was cooked. Thrilled that I’d finally hosted a group class (something I’ve wanted to do for years), proud of the progress I’ve made in the last few months toward “almost getting it kind of together,” and frustrated by the mess I still have to clean up from years of survival mode. (Or really, years of survival mode while I pretended I was “totally fine.”) As I sat down to write about the Full Moon, already “late” and beating myself up for it, I got the news of beloved multihyphenate talent David Lynch’s passing. It spooked me in the moment because I was just looking at his birth chart. Lynch was born January 20, 1946. Contrary to popular belief, he was not an Aquarius, but a Capricorn Sun. He was born with the Moon in Virgo, just a few days after a Full Moon in Cancer, and also during a Mars retrograde in Cancer. In non-astro speak: David Lynch was born during a quality of time similar to what we’re experiencing now.

I had looked up Lynch’s chart along with Dolly Parton’s and Diane Keaton’s who are also Capricorns born in January 1946. All with very similar charts (especially Lynch and Parton who are true time twins born only one day apart). The lasting power of these three supernovas felt like a clue. This moment is about the long game. It’s time to get over the desire to be “relevant,” and cultivate grit, compassion and resilience instead. Remember: No blanching. No half heartedness. We want these vegetables cooked (affirmative).

*

David Lynch, who had Scorpio rising ruled by Mars retrograde in Cancer in his ninth house of spirituality and mind-expansion, was a longtime student and teacher of Transcendental Meditation. For his birthday on January 20, a few hours after Trump’s inauguration, I joined what I assume was thousands if not millions of artists, lovers and weirdos in meditating for 10 minutes in honor of Lynch’s birthday and life. I don’t really understand the specifics of Transcendental Meditation but I know you're supposed to choose a word or mantra to meditate on. The word I chose was “Love.” I opened my eyes at the end of the ten minutes and thought, “Wow I wish I did this everyday.”

The myth is that it takes 21 days to form a habit. I’m wondering if breaking a bad one takes the same amount of time? I’m thinking about David Lynch and his penchant for both meditation and cigarettes. How influence doesn’t negate vice.

It’s much easier to stay stuck in a rut than to do something about it. As my acting teachers would always say about a scene, “Stop talking about it and put it on its feet.” Change isn’t easy. It often gets way worse before it gets better. But is that a reason not to try?

*

The Full Moon in Cancer was such a boiling point because it wasn’t just highlighting Mars, it came at the peak of Mars’ own cycle. Mars retrograde is when the planet appears to be moving backwards from our POV here on Earth. What’s actually happening is that Mars is very close to us. A bright red star in the night sky. It’s the “full moon” of the Mars cycle. It’s when Mars things (action, movement, conflict) reach a climax so we can assess and move on. The water boils so we can cook and eat. Mars retrograde reached its ultimate climax (the sun opposite Mars) on January 15 just two days after the Full Moon in Cancer. Talk about cooked.

Now we’re in the waning part of both the Moon and the Mars cycle. It’s time to reflect.

There was a New Moon in Cancer on July 5, 2024 — can you find a thread between the small actions you were taking and vibes you were gathering then and what is coming to a climax or close now?

Going back further, Mars met the Sun on November 17, 2023 initiating the “new moon” of the Mars cycle. What desires were stirring then and how are they now coming to fruition? Is there something that’s not working out that’s leaving you frustrated? I keep coming back to this vegetable thing (thank you Tamar Adler), but what if there’s a message not only in what’s cooked, but in what’s overcooked. Like, sure let’s turn that vegetable sludge into a pesto but let’s not try to eat it as is.

The moon is waning toward a New Moon in Aquarius, in the part of the zodiac associated with the 5 of Swords which the Golden Dawn called “Defeat.” It’s terrifying to give up and start over. But I must say, every time I do something that scares me, it gets a little less scary. Maybe fear has a nuclear half-life. Through it all, I think change is worth the sludge.