Aries New Moon Meditation for 2004:

The Ethics of Natural Boundaries

By Jean Hinson Lall

On March 20^th we celebrated the arrival of spring as Sun and Moon met in the first degree of Aries – a "double beginning," since the start of the lunar cycle coincided with the inception of a new solar year. At this New Moon we have a sort of "double ending," with a solar eclipse occurring in the very last degree of Aries. In addition, Mercury is retrograde in late Aries, adding to the backward-looking orientation. So we might see this year’s two Aries New Moons as a pair of bookends framing the meaning of the sign and inviting us to reflect back upon recent experiences.

Eclipses mark turning points and bring essential needs and questions into focus. The image for the last degree of Aries is "A duck pond and its brood," implying "the realization of natural boundaries." Aries energy as it bursts forth in the early stages of any new undertaking is not yet aware of boundaries, natural or otherwise. It can gain such awareness in this transitional degree, realizing its place, its perimeters and conditions of existence. Then it is ready for full embodiment in Taurus.

At the first-degree Aries New Moon we considered the Inuit myth of Sedna, the woman who through the ruthlessness and cowardice of men was cast into the sea and became a goddess. From her own body came the marine mammals on whom the people depended. When they observed her laws and dealt justly with one another she graciously provided for their needs; when they strayed from right conduct and reverence, she made animals scarce or disrupted hunting conditions by stirring up storms.

I had Sedna on my mind as I went out to visit the sheep just before sundown that day, shortly before the exact Sun-Moon conjunction. As usual, I strolled along the country lane adjacent to the pasture, pausing to enjoy the exuberant play of the lambs, then rambled on into the woods until I came to the secluded pond where a little family of ducks make their home. The pond is set back from the road, bounded and sheltered by trees and underbrush, but I could hear the ducks’ conversation and catch glimpses of them on the sun-dappled water.

Coming back, I was shocked to see one of the lambs out on the road. It had somehow wriggled through a hole in the fence and couldn’t figure out how to get back to its playmates. I ran to catch the little fellow, but he wouldn’t let me get near him. He was edging closer and closer to the heavily-travelled main road. Even if I could catch him before he got hit by a car, I worried that I wouldn’t be strong enough or tall enough to lift him over the fence to safety. I was beginning to feel desperate when a car pulled up and out jumped a tall, well-built, grey-haired man. The lamb was now boxed in by the car, the fence, and the two of us. I caught hold of his hindquarters and the tall man easily lifted him over the barbed-wire fence. We were both delighted. "Teamwork!" he grinned, giving me a thumbs-up as he climbed back into his car and drove off.

Leaving the ducks afloat in their pond and the sheep safe in their pasture, I went happily home for tea. The exhilaration of the rescue and the tactile memory of holding that strong, squirming, wooly little body stayed with me during the Sun’s transit through Aries and the Passover and Easter season. That day, in the interval between the Sun’s entry into Aries and its conjunction with the Moon, the lamb, symbol of Aries and of the Jewish and Christian mysteries of sacrifice and redemption, had strayed from its flock and called forth a pair of strangers to restore it to its boundaries. The impulse we each felt to stop and rescue the animal was utterly natural and spontaneous. It struck me that this shepherding instinct belongs to Aries just as much as warfare and exploration do, and must be one of its natural ethical expressions.

The protection of innocent life simply through the "realization of natural boundaries" cannot, however, be taken for granted. Where rightful boundaries are not respected or agreed upon, the 30^th degree of Aries can be a degree of armed revolt, repression or terror. Mars the war god can appear at his most terrifying. April 19 is a fateful anniversary in American history. The last degree of Aries was marked in 1775 by the Battle of Lexington, as British troops confronted the local militia, leading to the first bloodshed of the Revolutionary War. In recent years the date has been linked to violent acts committed by white supremacists and right-wing militia members and by the government’s use of illegal and unnecessary force. On April 19, 1992, Federal agents raided the home of Randy Weaver at Ruby Ridge, Idaho, setting in motion a train of events that would culminate four months later in Weaver’s wife and son being shot to death by rogue agents. The following year on the same date, the ill-considered FBI assault on the Branch Davidian compound at Waco ended in the fiery deaths of most of the inhabitants, including twenty-one children. In 1995 the April 19 bombing of the Federal Building in Oklahoma City by Timothy McVeigh (who was gunning for FBI agents because of the Waco assault) killed 168, including nineteen little children.

The power of Aries is meant to be used in the service of life, not in apocalyptic destruction. Where we have not developed an ethical and emotionally sound relationship to that power, the result is blind violence and cruelty. Perhaps our best means of insuring against the terrorist within and without is to heed the natural conscience that binds us to our fellow creatures in the great web of life and not to allow tragic circumstances or ideology to dislodge us from this, our ethical home ground.

© 2004 Jean Lall
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