"I need to loosen up," I told an astrologer friend recently, explaining that I'd like to play more, leave myself open to new experiences, and generally become less a slave to schedules and plans. "But I'm afraid to," I confided, and was stunned to find myself suddenly fighting back tears. She tactfully paused, then asked, "What are you afraid of?" I couldn't answer right away. I hadn't really thought about it; I had simply obeyed the limitations of the fear without question. "I'm afraid of being ignored," I finally realized, "that if I let go, I'll disappear."

I'm a Leo. Traditional astrology will tell you that being ignored is not a problem most Leos have to contend with, adept as we are at calling attention to ourselves. But that is not my story. I was born with the Sun in hard aspect to Neptune, the planet of obfuscation. Far from being a flamboyant Leo queen, I spent much of my childhood in a fog, afraid of everything and everybody, hiding under furniture when unexpected visitors dropped by. I had only the most tenuous Neptunian boundaries to safeguard my sense of self. It has taken conscious work for many years for me to gain confidence, and most of the time I walk around thinking I've done a pretty good job. The conversation with my friend, however, pointed out that that I haven't come as far as I'd thought.

You needn't be a sun-sign Leo, or have a difficult aspect between the Sun and Neptune, to relate to feeling a lack of confidence. You need only be human, with a human's basic need to feel good about yourself and to be paid attention to. We think of the Sun - and Leo, the sign it rules - as symbols of self-expression and confidence. But perhaps what they symbolize is the striving for these things. The symbol for the Sun - a tiny speck surrounded by a circle - has always reminded me of the bullseye of a target, with the astrological Sun describing both the bullseye we are aiming for, and how we need to develop as an individual in order to reach that target. We begin as a tiny, nearly invisible speck, surround ourselves with empty, insulating space, and then build a solid circle around it all, a boundary to safely contain our fearful smallness.

For some of us, building a strong enough circle can be the work of a lifetime. Others seem to have strong boundaries right from the start. People with healthy egos are able to dance between self and not-self, occasionally navigating liminal space where boundaries don't exist, then safely returning to the center of the circle. They know how to play, and how to re-create themselves; they can shape-shift effortlessly, either permanently or as a mini-vacation from reality, seeing it all as one enjoyable and unfolding journey.

But Leo, being a fixed sign, tends to find this kind of flexibility elusive, even threatening. Leo prefers to be himself, thank you; if Leo were an actor he would be John Wayne, who was always pretty much John Wayne, no matter what role he was playing onscreen. And so during the annual Leo season we are normally concerned with fortifying the traits and creative impulses that make up the boundary between us and other, and define our identities. Learning to be more ourselves can be a joyous process, but surprisingly often, it also feels like hard work.

Mercury retrograde: Dancing between boundaries

This New Moon chart, however, offers a cosmic out-clause: Mercury is retrograde. Mercury in its retrograde cycle, suggests Pythia Peay, signifies a liminal time, when the normal boundaries are blurry and there are fewer demarcations between people and places, time and space. Yes, it can be frustrating when the computer dies, the car breaks down, or your phone calls aren't returned - all stereotypical manifestations of Mercury "malfunctioning." But think what is gained: time out to look deep inside and sort through the information overload of the past three months. Often, contact with people from the past, who may have known a different, long-neglected side of us; usually, the opportunity to spend some time alone. All of these are Mercury's gifts, helping us reconnect with the fullness of what we are instead of unconsciously playing our usual roles of husband, wife, mother, father, child, friend. With time out to safely reconsider who we want to be, we can adjust and redraw the protective circle of identity.

Like midnight, which is neither one day nor the next, or the void of course moon times, when the moon has finished the work of one sign but has not moved on to the next - Mercury retrograde periods are times when magic and transformation are unusually accessible. The work of the Leo season is, as always, to examine the boundaries, traits, and impulses of our personality; but this New Moon in Leo, we are given also the grace of Mercury retrograde, and the ability to reconsider habits of behavior and of mind that no longer suit us.

Work in progress

Two caveats: Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter are in Virgo in this New Moon chart, and with that comes the danger of excessive self-criticism. Acknowledging what you've outgrown is not the same thing as picking on yourself for what you have been. And with Mars opposing Uranus (connecting us back to last spring, when these planets were squaring each other; what were you struggling with then? what was broken?), the impulse to tear down is at least as strong as Leo's desire to create. Breaking with the past can be very liberating, and sometimes the only way to initiate change is to act boldly and irrevocably. Usually, though, reckless actions are ones we eventually regret.

The New Moon is a dark time. It is midnight now in our gardens, and it is tempting to suspect evil impulses lurking in every shadow, and to obey the limitations of fear without question. But while the Sun and Moon in Leo are invisible to us just now, just below the horizon, they are still there, and we feel them even if we can't see them. They remind us that we are works in progress, and we are creating, every day, the selves we want to be and the world we want to live in. If the energy of Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter in Virgo remind us that there is much in the world, and in us, that could be better, Leo reassures us that it will be - because there is so much good in us, and because we are free to be whatever we want to be.

For further reading:
Mercury Retrograde: Its Myth and Meaning, by Pythia Peay. (2004). Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin.

© 2004 April Elliott Kent
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