Libra Full Moon

Tues., April 7th —☉ ♈, ☽ ♎, ☿ ♓, ♀ ♊, ♂ & ♄ ♒, ♃ & ♇ ♑, ♆♓

Oh, gawd, I’ve just realized all of my Venus-in-Gemini Jupiter-conjunct-Pluto ra-ra I’ve-got-a-plan enthusiasm was just pure delusion. My good spirits from the past two days have nosedived (I blame the Sad Disco playlist I’ve been listening to), and I’m now nothing more than a puddle of pining disguised as a woman. I blame the Libra Full Moon.

Cardinal air sign Libra is the sign of balance, harmony, and partnerships. The Moon rules our imagination, as well as our habits, instincts, and emotions. It also happens to be one of the moodiest planets in astrology. When the Moon is full, it signifies the closing or culmination of a cycle. This is because lunations — particularly New & Full Moons — work in pairs

This is how the cycle works: you set an intention on a new moon in a particular sign, and six months later, your intention should manifest on or around the full moon of that same sign. 

Today, the moon is full at 18° Libra; so this lunation is closing the 6-month long cycle that began on the Libra New Moon in September. 

September was a long time ago. That was before I got dumped during a pandemic, before everyone had to hole away at home and worry about their health and safety and futures, and before face masks and toilet paper became the world’s most sought-after items. 

Indeed, that Libra New Moon seems like centuries ago, but I remember it well… 

It was September 28, the Aries and I were sharing one of our before-bed conversations. Like the silky September sky, with its blanket of stars glittering softly behind wisps of clouds, I felt calm and serene. This was largely because of the ongoing planetary transits.

Venus and Jupiter had collided among the stars, making the sixth-harmonic aspect: the sextile. This celestial collision sent particles of playful passion through space; down they fell through the atmosphere — the clouds, the sky — and finally, through my bedroom window, straight into my heart.

The fortuitous meeting of the two celestial bodies was blessed even more by the New Moon. Both she and the Sun were stationed in Libra, so the divine masculine (Sun) and the divine feminine (Moon) were in perfect harmony. Pathways for growth had opened.

I laid in my soft and warm bed, fit to burst with warm and happy feelings as the Aries and I talked about the first kiss we shared just a few days before. He admitted that he was nervous, but that when our lips met, all those nerves disappeared. He said he had to kiss me that day, because the desire to do so was so pressing. 

“That’s why I told you I loved you, too,” he said. I pictured him, the swarthy, brown-eyed, tattooed hunk, laying in his dark bedroom, staring up at the ceiling, daydreaming. “I just felt it so strongly in my heart, I had to say it.”

I too had pressing feelings that needed to be shared. 

“I love you,” I said, rolling onto my back. “I love you, and I should’ve told you that I loved you when you told me you loved me. I should’ve–”

“Baby, why are you apologizing?” he interrupted. He sounded just as moonstruck as I felt. “I didn’t tell you that I love you because I wanted to hear it back, I told you because–”

“You’re an Aries, and Aries always have to be the first one to do something?” I giggled. 

The Aries laughed. It was a husky chuckle that made me burn to see his handsome face, how it crinkles his big brown eyes when he smiles.

“True,” he said, “but mostly I told you because I’ve never felt like this before, I’ve never felt so drawn to another person. I’m certain you’re my Twin Flame, Camille, my parakīya.”

I gasped and gazed above me. Slivers of starlight shimmered through the blinds of my bedroom window. My glass-less vision blurred the soft speckles of light, creating a mini Milky Way on my ceiling. 

“Twin Flame?” I repeated, trying to sound unaffected. “You do know those aren’t real, right?”

“Oh, they’re very real,” he said, still sounding moonstruck. “I’m talking to mine right now.”

It was my turn to laugh. Then I rolled onto my side, away from the mini Milky Way.

“Listen to us talking about love and twin flames,” I scoffed. “Damn Libra New Moon.” 

“What about it is so damning?” 

“Oh, it’s too much to whisper into the phone,” I said playfully.

“Do you know what’s not too much to whisper?” the Aries said, his voice soft, low, and just as playful. “How much I love you–”

“You already said that,” I said, blushing. 

“That’s because I mean it.” He sounded like he was smiling. “I love you, Cosmic Cannibal.”

“You’re too much right now,” I said, giggling again. “And I’m– well, I don’t know what I am.” 

“You’re in love,” the Aries said. “It’s beautiful, just like you. My beautiful, gorgeous goddess.”

A warming sensation overwhelmed me, compelling me to confess my feelings once more.

“I really do love you,” I said, my voice as soft as the starlight. “It’s not the Libra New Moon, or Venus or Jupiter… It’s you. I love you. And you know what? I believe we’re Twin Flames, too! Do you believe me? I’m speaking from my heart.” I rested my hand on my heart and closed my eyes as though making a wish. “I’m sending you my love. Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I love you?”

“Yes,” he said emphatically. “I can feel it. Just like I felt you the other day. And it’s beautiful.” 

That was part of what I loved about the Aries: he made me feel like I was soaring through the heavens even though I remained quite still and comfortable in my bed, wrapped in the plush blanket, the firm-yet-fluffy pillows cradling my neck. And oh, how I wished the pillows were his chest.

“We should set an intention!” I said. “New Moons are perfect for setting intentions, so we should set an intention!”

“Together?” the Aries asked. 

“Yes!” I whispered. “Whatever is in your heart– right now, let’s focus on it with all our might, and then release it into the universe — together. Ok?”

“Yes, my love,” he said. 

“On the count of three. One — two — three–”

I closed my eyes even tighter than before, and held my breath as I focused on my intention, which was to feel this way forever. To share moments like these with the Aries again and again.

I rolled onto my back once more, and opened my eyes, blinking away the bright spots that added to the galaxy on my ceiling.

“Do you want to know what my intention was?” the Aries asked.

“Of course, love.” 

“My intention was for Union between you and I. I want us to be together forever.”

I was once told by a respected astrologer that when the New Moon makes an harmonious aspect to your natal Mars, a love relationship can begin, because there is energy and dynamism. And when the New Moon makes an harmonious aspect to your natal Jupiter, relationships expand and move forward; it’s the night to make a wish because it’s guaranteed to come true. As fate would have it, that Libra New Moon was harmoniously aspecting both of those planets in my chart. That night, all those planets were united, as were the Aries and I…  

But that unity is gone. The energy and dynamism and Venus/Jupiter/New Moon zeal is gone. I guess all the love the Aries said he felt is gone too. 

It’s amazing how relationships take months to build, yet they crash and burn in mere minutes. And all it took was one minute of carelessness to set fire to a love that was so unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

Ugh, it was all so romantic when it started: the sexy texts; the forbidden trysts in our cars; the sweet before-bed phone calls… Did I really think the Aries and I were Twin Flames? I don’t know, but I do know that I loved him. More than I’ve ever loved another person. And I felt loved. Sometimes.

But all that’s left of that love are the ashes.

Oh, I wish I had never set an intention with the Aries on that Libra New Moon. Then I wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t be pining and reflecting on the past six months later. If I had just wished for a column at Planetarium, I’d have it. Instead, I have a broken heart.


*please note, COSMIC CHRONICLES is a fictional series; Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this series are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.