Growing up, I remember the season when the frozen ground would still be blanketed in layers of white packed snow but the sun would blind you glinting off of every surface. Each afternoon the wetness spread, and each morning everything was frozen in time once again. Icicles ran so long they’d touch the ground from the corners of the barn. It was late winter, but it was actually early spring, and the only way you’d know that Persephone was on her way up from the underground with new green shoots was the creaking and dripping that punctuated the heavy silence. 

 

At this time, you’d see tin pails tacked to the sides of maple trees in yards, on farms and across the woods. Nowadays, they use bright blue rubber tubes that link the trees together like artificial veins carrying the sap into a big plastic barrel for collection. I remember being small enough to barely reach the tap and imagined what a treat it would be to stick my tongue underneath it. Lifting the metal lid—to guard from unwanted sap swindlers of the wild animal or insect variety as well as general debris—I expected to see a steady stream of clear, sugary liquid. Instead, I found a solitary drop hanging from the flute that pursed out of the rough bark. I could not, in good conscience, put my tongue to it. So I watched it gather: the drop swelling, ballooning, and finally releasing itself from the tap and dropping with a light splash into the half inch of liquid at the bottom of the pail. 

 

Now, I won’t paint myself the deferential child because I certainly wasn’t. This wasn’t even my family’s maple tree or tapping operation, but one on a neighboring property. I looked out at all of the maples in this wood, dozens of them holding their buckets, and then waited for the next drop to form before catching it on my finger and delighting in the subtle sweetness of tree juice. 👹

 

Although I may be a week or two early in this analogy, please bear with me for the sake of poetry, and out of respect for the shifts that climate change has made in our earth’s natural cycles. For I feel like this Aquarius season has such sweet things in store for us, if we are patient and dedicated to a future goal. Maple tapping is not instant. It takes weeks to collect enough sap to boil down to the consistency of syrup. And even then, it takes about 5 gallons of sap to make one pint of maple syrup. Good natured Aquarius isn’t afraid of a little hard work, and their progressive thinking can have an optimistic bend to it that makes the process all the more enjoyable. 

 

Just over a week ago we passed Imbolc, the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. We are solidly in the middle of Aquarius season and the extroverted energy has us all coasting on some kind of momentum. It may feel like bigger projects or goals or events are at a standstill, like progress hasn’t been made. And yet, I’d beg to differ that there’s far more going on beneath the surface. After a while, our buckets may become heavy with the fruits of our persistence and we may be asked to act quickly.

 

Although January always feels deceptively long, I was delighted to see and hear so many folks taking their time with the “new year.” A small shift of perspective, even if only personal, can ripple out into relationships, communities, and will inevitably reach our systems. During Aquarius season we are more sensitive to the limitations of our systems, we desire progress and change that not only benefits the individual, but the community at large. No one understands individuation the way Aquarius energy does, that we are at once unique individuals that are inseparable from the greater whole. 

 

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Known as the water bearer, and water being a symbol of both our emotions and of change, this Aquarius New Moon is set to bring about a shift that I do believe we have been long awaiting. This shift will feel very personal but will impact how we relate to our families, friends, communities and the collective.

 

Today’s New Moon in Aquarius—reaching its zenith at 2:59pm—is the start of our next lunation, the next chapter. We will carry this airy and experimental energy with us into the beginning of Pisces Season, until the Pisces New Moon on March 10. Aquarius is an extroverted energy, although many Aquarians may seem like introverts individually, this is an energy that looks, not without, but beyond the self to its relation to the whole. It can become so focused externally that it does lose sight of what’s going on inside, which is why an Aquarius New Moon can have us feeling a little flighty in our feelings, not able to articulate them, or perhaps not even knowing what they really are in the moment. Remember, that you are allowed to pause, to hold this energy. Not with white knuckles, but as you would hold your own body amidst a swarm of butterflies; softly, gently. 

 

This New Moon squares Uranus in Taurus, which is where conscious change is bound to happen. Although the ruler of Aquarius, the planet Uranus in the sign of Taurus is usually more hesitant to change or disruption. Uranus may not be as spontaneous as when this planet is in other signs, and it wants to know that the change will actually create progress and not just chaos. So the friction of a square aspect with the Moon (our emotional world) and the Sun (how we show up/what shows up) both in experimental Aquarius, suggests that we don’t need to throw our feelings around. There is a change we have known was coming, a new aspect of our individuation—a new way of looking at our uniqueness and how it links us back to the Whole—and it’s time to dedicate our energy to this new perspective. Remember, regal Leo and alt Aquarius share an axis… they also share a beautiful appreciation for loyalty, to oneself and to the collective.

 

While Mercury in Aquarius square Jupiter in Taurus could present some doubts, Jupiter sextile Saturn in Pisces is still providing a strong foundation for expansion fortified by our faith. We could apply our New Moon New Perspective to our work through Mars’s sextile with Neptune which offers a hit of idealism and creativity that might otherwise not be practically put to use. And with Mars in a wide conjunct to Venus in Capricorn, we could be feeling our romantic and personal relationships supporting us through these personal changes. Lean into your friends and lovers. We will need each other to witness and take note of our growth, and vice versa, so that we can all move toward our greater personal and collective goals.

 

Tomorrow is the start of Chinese New Year, which moves through a lunar calendar. This year, 2024 is the year of the Wood Dragon. Dragons are powerful, ambitious, and intelligent. They bring swift change and are tenacious in their undertakings. However, for all that they command, they long to be understood and loved. A wood year brings new growth and is associated with prosperity, generosity, and idealism. There is the sense that this year ahead will be one for the books, but also hopefully one where we can find a balance between personal ambition and collective compassion. It is a year to materialize ambitions into actions, and actions into rewards, and also find a way for those rewards to benefit more than just a select few. Because we all know it takes more than just one to get to “the top.” A dragon may be the most powerful Chinese zodiac, but they will be quite lonely and lost without anyone else around. 

 

 

At the peak of the new moon, the Sun and Moon will both be in Gate 49.2 in Human Design. Gate 49 is the Gate of Principles, the energy of Revolution. This is not about throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks, but instead the potential to lead revolution through a commitment to “higher” principles. These principles are rooted values of the individual and not the hierarchical values of the collective ego or external belief systems. Located in the Solar Plexus Center, this gate fosters the emotional sense of when it is time to change; when an emotional charge in a situation, relationship, or within a person bears the signal of a time to change. This gate is also called the Gate of Divorce or the Butcher because it can be quick to cut things (or people) out. It can be cold and unemotional, even. In detriment it leans on the expectation of perfectionism in others.

 

With expression in line 2, we see a measured restraint, a willingness to exhaust every option before revolution or cutting someone/thing out, or divorce from someone/thing. The potential to explore every possibility before rejecting and planning a revolution in such detail to ensure success. This is revolution as the last resort. Not that it cannot be utilized, but is there another way over, around, or through this thing so as not to waste the energy it takes to revolt? This is in no way an excuse to sit idly by. This is a call to get creative, get crafty, get wily. Your unique perspective is desperately needed.