February 10 – 11, 2107
4:32 PM PST / 7:32 PM EST / 12:32 AM GMT
22 Leo 28 / 22 Aquarius 28
This year’s Leo Full Moon has the subtlety of a powder keg igniting. It’s a pile-up of combustible influences that stoke the year’s theme of self-actualization. And like a powder keg’s igniting, it’s blowing some situations to smithereens — and blasting us further into this wild new phase.
Like any full moon, it’s bringing emotional outpourings to a head. They’re especially larger than life now, for multiple reasons.
One is the moon’s sign, Leo, which has a bent for drama and grabbing the spotlight. Feeling sufficiently seen, acknowledged and validated is a hot topic now. Some people are going to attack any perceived shortfall with attention-grabbing antics. Others, channeling the proud and regal possibilities of Leo, will respond by walking away from devaluing situations, with head held high.
Another reason for the larger than life emotions is this full moon’s nature as lunar eclipse, which escalates the looney factor exponentially. Lunar eclipse emotions aren’t merely aggrandized; they’re forceful, overwhelming and enormously informative (and so are the revelations that accompany them). What is seen cannot be unseen. Life will never be quite the same again.
This month’s full moon launches two-year cycle of eclipses on the Leo/Aquarius axis, which has us revisiting and resetting the challenge of shining as individuals while coexisting within a group. A defining question is: Who is your tribe? Here’s another: Where is your stage?
Watch for related themes, situations and even people to come back (perhaps only in your thoughts) from the summers of 1998 through 2000, the last time we underwent this eclipse cycle.
We are profoundly different now, though, so our responses to this cycle’s issues and triggers will be markedly different than they were some 19 years ago. Since then we’ve refocused our priorities, gained acute self-awareness and shed most inclination to contort ourselves to make a relationship “work.”
The first returns are coming this week, and continue as the eclipse unrolls over the next six months. Who sees your light? Who fuels it? Who doesn’t? There’s no point in running after anyone who leaves, or who fails to see you. Nor in continuing if you’re dancing your heart out in front of people who aren’t aware you’re in the room. Realizations are flipping internal switches in an instant, and permanently.
But wait! There’s still more reason for the extraordinary uproar: The Sun and the Moon are locking into the controlled firepower of the Saturn/Uranus trine, which ignited in December and fuels us for most of this year. Even if that trine did not activate anything in your chart (and in your heart), this Full Moon makes the potential immediate and personal.
Impulses are erupting from within, maybe from anger, maybe from passion, maybe from a raw life force that you can’t entirely define. You have got to have freedom to express yourself. Whether you’re seeing yet where you’re going, you are seeing what you’re leaving.
You have every incentive to get a move on. Action hero Mars, ruler of our drive and ambition, is ultimately in charge of this eclipse. (Here’s how: the Moon in Leo answers to the Sun, which is in Aquarius and answers to Uranus, which is in Aries and therefore answers to Mars, which is in his home base of Aries.)
Mars doesn’t wait for permission, or for premeditated thought. A hot head and a risk taker, he simply acts. And that’s what we’re all doing.
The leaps and lunges, comings and goings, switches flipping and all the rest of the commotion stand to benefit us greatly. Bountiful Jupiter, bestower of optimism and expansiveness, is making helpful links to both the Sun and the Moon. Those contacts could further balloon some of this eclipse’s dramas to cartoonish proportions, but they could just as easily cushion the impact, or help us see why they’re ultimately good for us.
Many of them are. Revelations, partings of the way and split-second emotional decisions all carry profound healing potential. The Moon and Jupiter are making a yod, or Finger of God, that points directly to Chiron in Pisces, embodiment of our abiding, collective wound. We are being called to address, even immerse ourselves into, interconnectedness.
The concept is seemingly incompatible with this moon mission. Tap into the elevated perspective of the Aquarius Sun and think of it this way: On a micro level, it’s time to separate from the herd and venture forth in mutually appreciative networks. On a macro level, though, we’re in this together, various herds and all.