Wed., April 22nd — ☉ ♉, ☽ ♉, ☿ ♈, ♀ ♊, ♂ & ♄ ♒, ♃ & ♇ ♑, ♆♓
Today is the Taurus New Moon! In astrology, New Moons occur when the Sun and Moon align in the same degree of the same sign. Very often, New Moons start the energy of a transit and cycle of growth, the effects of which can work up to three years! But all of this depends on the sign and house placement of the New Moon, and any aspects it makes to transiting planets. With this Taurus New Moon, not only are the Sun & Moon aligned, but so too is Uranus.
It’s never wise for an astrologer to make any inflexible predictions when Uranus is involved in a transit, because the planet of revolution, rebellion, and unexpected changes will turn everything upside down. (I mean, have you studied the outer planet’s orbit? I have, and it’s not normal.) But this is good news for me: both Uranus and the New Moon are conjunct my Midheaven, a chart angle that symbolizes your professional vocation in this life.
In other words, a new cycle of growth is getting an unexpected nudge from Uranus, thereby activating my life’s purpose! And I know just what that purpose is going to be. (Hint: it involves saving the publication that currently employs me.)
Three days ago, I had an ingenious idea about Trine, a dating app that allegedly pairs you with your Twin Flame, and today, with the New Moon conjunct Uranus, all I have to do is pitch my idea to Sarah, my editor at Ecliptic, and watch my life purpose unfold before my eyes.
Without wasting any time — well, ok, I scrolled through Instagram for 20 minutes while pacing back-and-forth in my apartment; but after my pacing and scrolling had ceased, I quickly dialed Sarah’s number, fit to burst with my exciting plan.
“Hey-o,” Sarah answered. “You are just the person I wanted to talk to.”
“Perfect! And same! I figured out what we can do to save Ecliptic!”
“I’m all ears,” Sarah said.
“Ok, so you know how most everyone in the astrological world has heard of Twin Flames, but not a single person really knows anyone who’s had a Twin Flame relationship?”
“Yeah…” Sarah said, sounding weary.
“Well, it has recently come to my attention that there is a dating app that promises to pair people with their Twin Flames based on significant placements in the birth chart, and… I think we should write about it. I mean, I want to write about it. I want to write a column, which tracks my journey into Twin Flame-dom,” I finished.
Sarah was silent for several minutes.
“I don’t like it,” she said, sounding unimpressed.
“But you said you wanted something new and different–”
“Yes, but who cares about finding their Twin Flame during a pandemic?”
“A lot of people! Including me– at least I will be,” I argued.
“I don’t know… it’s not really what I had in mind. Ecliptic isn’t a lifestyle magazine, we’re a respectable astrology publication like The Mountain Astrologer.”
I rolled my eyes. Ecliptic is a lot of things, but The Mountain Astrologer, it is not.
“Look, Sarah,” I said, keeping my voice steady, “this column is about more than just Twin Flames. Truth is, Trine is gonna be a huge deal in the astrology world, I just know it, and if we are the first ones to write about it, think about what that can do for our future!”
Sarah was silent again, which meant she was thinking about it. Finally, she spoke.
“I’m just not feeling it, Camille,” she said matter-of-factly. “Actually, I had an idea for a column, too. It’s not like your idea, but it’s interesting… What if we write about the Astrology of Infectious Diseases?”
Disheartened and insulted by Sarah’s blatant rejection and her pitch for a column about infectious diseases (I mean, really, Cosmic Cannibal and the Astrology of Infectious Diseases? Ew. I would never write about that!), I spent much of the rest of the day brainstorming and stewing. Maybe it was the fixed energy of the Taurus Sun, Moon, and Uranus, but I refused to give up on my Trine idea so easily. It was when I was watching the “Most Wanted Bachelor” episode of 12 Corazones (my favorite astrology dating game on show Telemundo), that my brainstorming paid off. Like a bolt from the blue, I got an idea as to how I can make my Trine / Twin Flame column idea come to life. But first, I had to test my idea, so I quickly FaceTimed my best friend, Vani, to get her feedback.
“I joined Trine,” I said, getting right to the point.
“OMG THIS IS HUGE–” Vani started to say, her full face alive with excitement.
“Damn right it’s huge,” I concurred. “But I need your help with something: I’m using the Twin Flame and Trine angle for a column, which I originally pitched to Sarah, but she didn’t like it, so I’m instead going to pitch it to Planetarium. What do you think?”
Much to my surprise, Vani didn’t mirror my excitement. Her full face fell flat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Isn’t it a great idea?”
“Well,” she pursed her lips, “yeah, but I didn’t think you were gonna turn this Trine stuff into a work thing. I thought you were going to, I don’t know, do something and not have ‘an angle’.”
“What do you mean, ‘not have an angle’? What’s wrong with having an angle?” I huffed. “And since when do I have angles?”
“All the time,” Vani said. “You only ever do something if you can find a way to make it work for you. That’s having an angle.”
I gaped at her. “I don’t do that!”
“Yes you do. Remember T.Y.? You got to know him for an entire year because you thought he held the secret to unlocking your Uranus dominance–”
“That’s because he’s an Aquarius, and my Sun is in the 11th–”
“And then there was that year where you befriended Melissa just so you could get an internship at Ecliptic–”
“Um, yeah, because she knew Sarah! I don’t see how any of this has to do with–”
“And now, you’re turning what could be a very fun and freeing online dating experience that could potentially lead you to your Twin Flame into an opportunity to get a column at Planetarium. It’s weird. And it kind of makes you seem like a heartless opportunist.”
“I’m not a heartless opportunist!” I snapped, stung by my best friend’s untruthful accusation. “I’m doing all of this for my job, my life’s purpose. And besides, I don’t care about having a fun and freeing online dating experience, and certainly don’t care about Twin Flames, because they aren’t real!”
Vani arched an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said when you were with the Aries–”
“THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ARIES!” I snarled. “This is about me and my career. I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“Oh, come on, Camille, everything you’re doing has to do with the Aries. I bet you only want to do this dating column so you can rub your success in his face and make him jealous–”
“And what’s wrong with that, huh?” I bellowed. “What’s wrong with wanting to show the man who jilted me that I’m over him and that I’m a highly successful–”
“Because you’re not over him!” Vani interrupted. “And that’s OK, but you have to stop pretending like you are, and stop hating on Twin Flames. Just because one douchebag of a guy jilted you and lied about you two being Twin Flames doesn’t make the theory false!”
“No, you’re right,” I snapped, “the theory makes itself false. It’s a bull shit idea some man made up long ago to trick attention-seeking women like you so they’d join stupid dating apps.”
Vani gasped. “I’m not an attention seeker!”
“Yes, you are! The only reason you want to do this Trine thing is so you can get a bunch of guys to say that you’re beautiful, because that’s all that matters to you, you vain Taurus! UGH! You know, I called you because I wanted you to help me with this project, but I guess I’ll have to do it myself. Thanks for nothing, Vani.”
And with that, I hung up.
Still seething from my unforeseen argument with Vani, I took what I hoped would be a relaxing bath. Unfortunately, I didn’t get very much relaxation.
As I soaked in the milky suds of my homemade vanilla, ylang-ylang epsom bath, I got to thinking about the Taurus New Moon and how it and Uranus-in-Taurus has done absolutely nothing for me or my Midheaven. In fact, both planets have disrupted everything.
The Midheaven (also known as the Medium Coeli, or M.C.) is the sign on the cusp of the 10th House, and represents your public image, how you function in society, and also your creative and professional achievements and identity; it is one of four critical chart angles, and its sign describes what qualities you seek in your profession.
Fiery Midheavens (Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius) function best in professions that allow them to use their creativity, energy, and passion. Air Midheavens (Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius) thrive in careers that emphasize communication and mental activity. When the Midheaven is placed in a Water sign (Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces), you’re best suited for professions in the healing, nurturing, and emotional arts. Earth Midheavens (Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn) want practical, reliable, and useful careers.
With my Taurus Midheaven, I need to be resourceful and productive in my profession. And that’s not something Sarah allowed me to do at Ecliptic. Especially not today.
“If only she could see the opportunity I see,” I muttered to myself before gasping.
Omg, Vani was right, I am an opportunist! That’s how people see me and my Taurus M.C. Here I was, thinking that people saw me as assertive, creative, and stable. But I was just getting things confused with my Leo Ascendant. No, thanks to my Taurus Midheaven, people see me as a stubborn opportunist. This New Moon was supposed to help me, though! It was supposed to be my chance to hit reset on my career goals. This is the fault of Uranus…
These drab thoughts continued to swim in my head until the very last soapy sud of my bath soak had dissolved. And so, I drained the tub and got ready for bed so I could call it a day on this Taurus New Moon.
“Is everything ok, Sarah? It’s late and I ju–”
“I changed my mind,” Sarah said, cutting me off. This time she sounded excited. “Forget about the Astrology of Infectious Diseases, do the Twin Flame dating column.”
“Wait. What? Really?” I said, sittin up as excitement filled my veins.
“Yes!” Sarah said. “But I need you to keep it honest, and do your research. Ecliptic is a respectable publication– well, we’re trying to be at least. If you’re gonna write about Twin Flames, you need to do it the right way. I don’t wanna read crackpot theories and dating tips.”
“I completely agree! In fact, that was my plan all along,” I lied.
“Great!” Sarah said. “So when should I expect your first draft?”
“Uh…” I stammered. In all the excitement of concocting ideas about how I could use Trine, I didn’t do anything besides download the dating app. “How about Friday?” I asked, wondering how the hell I’m going to scrap together a dating profile and a feature story in less than two days.
“Make it next Wednesday. That gives you a week. Talk to you then.”
Relieved that I wouldn’t have to spend the next few days scrambling to write a story, and also thrilled that my column got the go ahead from Sarah, I was much too excited to go to bed; my head was buzzing. There was just one more hitch I needed to fix before I could call it a day on this Taurus New Moon.
“Listen, Vani, I’m sorry–” I started to say after I quickly dialed my Bull BFFs number (there was no time for FaceTime), but she stopped me.
“Don’t, Camille, I should apologize,” she said. “You’re not an opportunist, you don’t always have an angle, and not everything you do has to do with the Aries. I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“You were right, though, I do always have an angle, but that’s because of my Taurus Midheaven, being highly driven to find or make opportunities to succeed is what we do.”
“And I’m a Scorpio Midheaven, being dramatic is kind of our thing,” Vani chirped..
“Truth is,” I said, sighing, “I am kinda doing all of this because of the Aries — well, it’s more because of all the stuff before him, stuff I let go by the wayside.
“I’ve been trying to get my book published, and everyday that goal seems farther and farther away; everyday I wake up and wince if I see an email, because I know it’s just another rejection; and on top of that, I’m trying to get over being rejected by the Aries and get over being lied to for seven months and get over a broken heart… My goals are all I have right now, they’re the only thing keeping me going. That’s why I’m doing the Twin Flame column for Ecliptic.”
“Wait. Sarah ok’d it?” Vani asked excitedly. “That’s awesome!”
“Yeah, Sarah just called,” I said. “Still, I was wrong for calling you an attention-seeker; I only said that because I was angry that two people told me no in one day.”
“You’re right, though, I am an attention-seeker, but that’s because I’m a Taurus, we’re meant to be adored and to attract admirers. Or don’t you know that Miss Taurus Midheaven?” Vani giggled before sighing. “And anyway, you’re about the Twin Flames stuff, too: it’s not real and I shouldn’t waste my time believing in it. It’s impractical, you know? I don’t want to have another relationship end because I went into it wearing fantasy goggles.”
“Does that mean you’re not doing Trine?” I asked, feeling deflated. “Because Ecliptic column or not, I was really looking forward to doing the dating app with you. Or at the very least, I was looking forward to all the possible Twin Flame matches you’re undoubtedly going to find.”
“Well, good, because I am doing Trine,” she said brightly. “Actually we’re doing Trine, which means we have to make ourselves the most awesome profile ever seen…”
As the new moon shimmered in the sky, Vani and I stayed on the phone, creating a plan for Trine. So I guess I was wrong, today had an opportunity for growth after all…
*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.