Eclipsing: a reflection of a (former) anti-leo mollusk

If you know me, you know how much leos get on my damn nerves. 

This could've stemmed from many things. From the various encounters I've had with ones who've shaded me, reframed entire conversations around themselves, arrogantly deemed their existence as royal in spaces meant for collective growth, stolen my ideas and energy, and the downright egotistical lack of reflection on the harm they can cause when they insist attention is solely worthy of being on them.

Yup. I done said it. Trash. 

But from this point forward, I'll dump the Leo slander into a little box (but don't test me. I hear a peep out of y'all and I'll pull it RIGHT  BACK  OUT).

This series of Leo-aquarius eclipses, the last for many many years, has taught me one thing, and how it breeds all others: sometimes you gotta make shit about YOU. 

The Astrological POV

Being a taurus rising/sag sun steeps me in empathy, and the need to be honest about everything I feel. 

I am not one to stifle myself for others. 

Until it comes to voicing my deepest needs. In a lot of ways I've been hurting, like a channel that charges full force for others pots but seems to only trickle when it comes to my own bliss. 

2018 held emphasis for this in the ways I showed up for all my friends, but felt a resounding silence while I picked up the pieces of my own traumas by myself. I'm sure we're all tired of hearing the strong friend schpeel, but the funny thing about it is...it becomes a reality. It becomes so hard to pull yourself out of the role of nurturer. To the point where people feel comfortable talking at you rather than to you, and part of you fears asking for support on your own issues. It becomes difficult to assert that I too, feel. I've had so many conversations with my clients about having circles with their friends about boundaries and comfort, yet it feels so difficult to have space held for me to voice my own. 

And a lot of this is because I didn't have the language to voice my needs without a fear of them being unmet. 

One thing I will give leos is that when they need assistance, attention, or just a hug, they know how to get it. They rule the heart chakra for a reason: evolved leos can be warm, fire-bright beings that keep their flame moving by expressing their wants and needs. This is a way of being that gets those needs served, and because they're so good at getting what they want (sometimes by whatever means necessary), they have a tendency to exhibit the bratty aspects of spoilt children when it isn't received. This is the excess of Leo energy, which can only be balanced by the Aquarian viewpoint: us. 

Where do we fit into each others spaces? 

What can we do to counteract the feelings of lack?

 What technologies do we hold inside ourselves that create healthy flows of insight and connection?

Leos can be wonderful at reminding us to look out for number 1, because when you're represented by the sun you don't give a fuck if it's 6 in the morning and the world is tired: you gon SHINE. Their unwavering love for themselves, sometimes expressed through rage, is sheer proof of their need to roar their presence to the world. And they recognized that in order to embody all the love they are, they need help from other people. They use their resources to breed love as a check-in. 

Because Aquarius isn't dominant in my chart, and because most of the leos I've been exposed to were expressions of the un-evolved (along with my Lilith in Leo), I can say I was stumped for a while on how to assert myself as needing the most basic amenities of friendship:

-to be heard.

-to be supported. 

-to be respected with honesty in its rawest form. 

-to have my personal space be respected. 

-to not be drained. 

-to be shown up for. 

-to not be projected onto. 

-to not have to demand, reframe, or tweak these assertions for lack of your ability to treat me good. 

And in a lot of ways, whenever I expressed my needs healthily I was demonized. So I wrote it off as my Lilith demon, not recognizing the irony in Lilith, the literal expression of demonized freedom, ruled over my fear of expressing vulnerability and the need to be pet. Go figure. 

Taurus energy expresses the manifold love of a mother who very often retracts at the thought of not doing enough. 

I can honestly say I've had too many friendships where I played the role of a mother to spoiled, inconsiderate children who felt like I didn't have the right to go out and shake my ass too; who felt that because I care, because I give, because I nurture, I could not open my folds to be more, to be adored, to be a painter, a crafter, a singer.

Simply a (moth)er to so-called butterflies. 

And it was wrong of me to ever allow anyone to think they could have that much power over me. 

Since the summer, the butterfly has appeared constantly as a friend who teaches me to show up and show out. That anyone who is intimidated by me is in a larva state that is not lava enough for a woman with a fire like mine, and in that same vein cannot be my friend. 

I've learned to abandon sob stories of having my energy stolen by wolves in sheep's clothing. Because honestly, if I'd told people to shut the fuck up while I'm talking a little more often, they would've ran like hell before having the chance to go animorph on me. 

This is me saying it is properly safe for you to admire me and be enticed by me, but if you have control dramas or a mosquito mentality, your only access to me will be through instagram and a USPS carrier bringing my amazing products to your door. 

This is me saying listen to me and cherish me if I choose to share the contents of my life with you. 

This is me saying relationships should not circumvent you nor me, but hold the circumference of us between everything we are for community and who we are actively choosing to be. 

This is me saying yes, there are responsibilities in being my friend, and that they are not a weight to carry.

And on the flipside of that, this is me taking responsibility of the fact that for every friend I wasted energy trying to teach how to love me, there is a friend who wants to love me but doesn't know how. 

Because I exhausted myself with fuckshit too much to respond to a text. Or I "I'm good, how are you" 'd my way out of allowing someone to do emotional labor for me, because adopting strong friend dialogue was more comfortable for me in the moment. 

Comfort is not my friend. 

And I apologize for spending more time laying with comfort than with folks who want to grow me with me. 

Because in neglecting myself through other people, I neglected my ability to expand into spaces that deserve me, and vice versa. The Aquarian aspect of my being, nearly detached because I have been the type to retract before reply.

But now I can do both and with all the obnoxiously bright and apparent self-love of a Leo, and all the sharp, inquisitive oddities of an Aquarius. I have Aquarius in the 8th house at least, and this teaches me that in letting an aspect of how you see me perish, I'm born anew. 

And I'm finally selfish enough to want me more than I want anything else, knowing that I bring two tables and full-course nourishment. 

So now, if these words are singing to your soul...let's eat. 

I invite you to inquire for yourself, in meditative thought:

-What does your heart look like?

-What does being your brightest, best self look like?

-Find the aspects of your chart that contain Leo and Aquarius. 

How do these aspects inform you? Are they well fed?

-What animal energies wish to express themselves through you now?

-in what ways have you empowered others neglecting you? In what ways have you empowered others neglecting themselves? 

And if you'd like to, share em. Bless up, babes.