Happy birthday to the Moon.

do you feel the warmth?

Because I wax poetic for quite a while about Cancer below, I’m not spending time on another astro-dynamic up top this week. Instead, I’m going to remind you that the next monthly horoscope will head to you on July 1. 

Let me know if you’ve noticed anything from last month’s horoscope carrying extra weight or very much not resonating—I’m always very curious how the predicted/expected astro weather plays out in real life!

anonymous, french, 20th c.

The warmth of the moon.

I am, once again, moving. I am often moving from one home to another. It’s been something like ten times in the last ten years, most recently last August when I moved from Austin to Philadelphia. Luckily this move is just across town, but that doesn’t save me from needing to put together boxes and disassemble and reassemble furniture and generally sweat over tasks and finances. It’s expensive, financially and energetically, to change your home, even while recognizing the luck of having a home in the first place. Because having a home does, so often, come down to luck.

When you live in a place like the United States, people easily topple into that class called “homeless.” Even this framing cleverly puts the onus on the person, an identity trait rather than something that, as is almost always the case, has happened to them through some failure of policy. In this place, healthcare is not guaranteed, wage minimums haven’t kept up with cost of living, and the state does very little to provide a safe escape from domestic violence. The state is not where you we look for safety and care, in this place, generally. We’re left taking care of each other in a very real way, if we can. This is what’s on my mind as I throw shit in boxes, once again, and we prepare for the Summer Solstice and the Sun’s move into Cancer tomorrow.

It’s the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. We get the most Sun all year and it’s the beginning of the Moon’s season. Cancer is the Moon’s home, the place she rules and the sign she shares the most characteristics with. It’s an interesting idea that when she is at home she gets the least amount of time in the night sky and speaks to something about her generosity, her care, and the sensibility of Cancer.

To talk about Cancer, we have to talk about the thema mundi. The thema mundi is the “world chart”. It’s a teaching tool from early in the Hellenistic tradition for making sense of several core concepts within astrology. It’s symbolic, because Mercury and Venus don’t ever get quite so far from the Sun, but the idea is there. It illustrates which signs are home to each planet and gives sense to the geometry of aspect relationships.

As Demetra George says it in Ancient Astrology: In Theory and Practice, Volume 1:

The thema mundi is timed to the Egyptian New Year, which begins in summer with the heliacal rising of the star Sirius that announces the flooding of the Nile River. In ancient Egypt, the first appearance of the star Sirius coincided with the Sun’s presence in the Zodiacal sign of Leo. A heliacal rising star can only be seen in the pre-dawn hours. During the zodiacal month of Leo, Cancer by necessity must be the sign rising over the horizon at dawn when Sirius has its first visibility at this time of year … a fitting moment for the birth of the world. 

The entry for the thema mundi on Wikipedia gets at this in a conspicuously editorial moment: “Modern astrology assumes that Aries, the first sign, conveys its character to the first house. Instead, the thema mundi has Cancer in the ascendant, suggesting that nature, rather than being aggressive (in correspondence to Aries and Mars), is nurturing (in accord with the symbolism of Cancer and the Moon).” If the world is a Cancer Rising then we can look to nature to be nurtured. 

Of course, the stereotype of Cancer in modern culture leaves something to be desired. A quick Google will tell you they are moody, caring, protective, sensitive, or loyal. Notwithstanding the relative meaninglessness that comes from a Sun sign without the context of the chart, this barely scratches the surface of Cancer’s qualities. 

Let’s break Cancer down a bit:

I mentioned that Cancer is the home of the Moon, but it’s also where Jupiter is exalted. The planet of generosity and optimism celebrates in Cancer. He gives freely, makes stone soup and feeds the hungry, relaxes at the beach and holds hands by the midnight bonfire. Mars, for his part, is in fall, the opposite of exaltation. His story is a little more complicated in Cancer (more on this later), but specifically he cannot do what he does in Capricorn easily here. He has to put down his weapons, call for ceasefire, and tend to his wounds. For similar reasons, it’s a place that Saturn is uncomfortable. Exiled from his home across the Zodiac in Capricorn, Saturn feels uncomfortable with this freely given care. Isolation and fear do not do well in Cancer.

Cancer is a cardinal sign, an initiating sign, understandably associated with birth and cycles of reproduction. The Moon’s relationship with Cancer brings in the tendency toward emotion and “moodiness” (via the Moon’s always changing phases) though that’s a lacking version of the story. Something people forget in this association is that as much as the Moon is an always changing body in the sky, she’s also reliable and predictable. Very little in life is more consistent then the Moon’s phases.

Cancer is also a water sign, which means it is wet (duh) and cold. It’s got a nocturnal association (see: the Moon) and through that also has a special connection to Venus and Mars. While this is not their home, and Mars is even undermined here in some ways, there is an affinity for both of them here. They are cooled down, refreshed by the waters here. And, as with all the water signs, we see Cancer tend toward wet experiences, toward the emotions. Feelings without articulation. Libra writes a love letter, Cancer makes you dinner. Capricorn sends a divorce notice, Cancer consciously uncouples. Aries attacks, Cancer withdraws.¹

What I am sitting with as we enter this specific Cancer season is the interesting way that cardinality merges with water. In my eyes, cardinality is potential energy. Cardinality is initiation which requires a charge. Water is a cold element by nature, but, mixed with cardinality, I think there’s some heat introduced that we can feel in Cancer. Not just because it’s summertime and my phone has been blowing up all week with warnings of excessive heat in Philadelphia. But because subtle heat, heat from the Sun that is reflected off the Moon, is still heat. 

At one point early in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard describes wandering in the wintery Virginia wilderness around her home and considering the sky. It’s one of many times just in the first portion of the book that she does so. This particular time, she notices the moon, “fixed and full in the east, enormously scrubbed and simple.” She considers the light. She reflects upon the generations of people before who have looked up at the sky and considered the light. Dillard notes, “I lack the apparatus to feel a warmth that few have felt—but it’s there … Kepler wrote, “I was engaged in other experiments with mirrors, without thinking of the warmth; I involuntarily turned around to see whether somebody was breathing on my hand.” It was the warmth from the moon.” 

This is where I encourage two things. 

I encourage you to consider “the warmth from the moon”. When you can, take the time to walk under the night sky and consider the light and that implicity heat way above and around you. This is one of those miracles. This is one of those things that only doesn’t leave us on the brink of insanity because we are able to become used to almost anything. You mean to tell me there are 200 billion trillion stars in the universe and some of them are visible to us as twinkling lights? You mean to tell me we have a single Moon that, because of a chance of geometry, appears roughly the same size as our Sun and she’s also gorgeous? And you mean to tell me I get to be a gay boy living in Philadelphia with two perfect cats and friends I love and it’s summertime? A miracle. So, consider that warmth.

The second thing is to consider where you reflect the warmth that you receive. Where are you directing the reflection of whatever light is shining on you? This is not some CTA at the end of an email where I just say do your five calls and donate to families in Gaza (duh, do that). This is where I ask myself and ask you to wonder about what warmth you are giving away. Some of it we get to decide to share with intention and some of it is shared simply by virtue of our moving through the world, orbiting whatever habits and routines we’ve built our lives around.

The Moon is for the people. I gestured at this idea very briefly in my first monthly horoscope for paid subscribers.² To understand the sky, first look to the Moon. Throughout the history of astrology, whether we’re talking natal astrology, horary astrology, or mundane astrology, overwhelmingly the Moon represents the normal people. She is responsible for translating whatever is happening up in the sky down to us and whatever is happening down here back up to the other planets. If that idea doesn’t speak to you, I’d at least encourage you to consider the miracle of her closeness. I read somewhere that babies often reach for the Moon the first time they see her, before they have a feel for distance and space. Before they know better, they see the Moon and see a brightly shining object begging to be held. We might all benefit this Cancer season from emulating them and paying closer attention. Of course, whether or not you do, she’ll be there, reflecting light and marking time. 

Always a lot of credit goes to the people who have been my teachers, both directly and through their freely shared knowledge, and so many books.

1.  As always, even as I try to complicate the stereotypes, I’m really just opening up new avenues for different oversimplifications. My goal, always, is to complicate and problematize. To understand Cancer in your life you will need to understand more about your chart (and, by understanding Cancer in your life, you’ll understand more about your chart). 

2.  If you aren’t sure you want to become a paid subscriber, be sure you take advantage of your free month! You can look at old horoscopes and will receive at least one new one. And if you’ve already used it and want another to think about it longer, just shoot me an email and I can set that up.