Twelfth House Moonwork

dog-runningNothing beats the joy of watching my dog Jupiter come running through the field, ears flying and tongue flapping on his happy face! I said this to myself an hour before he was suddenly and mysteriously limping in pain. I’ve visited the vet too often this year, and no matter what the malady, it’s always a minimum $300. This time it’s arthritis, which I’m confident we’ll resolve, as we have his other troubles. I’ve heard that dogs absorb their owner’s karma, dutifully taking karmic bullets for their masters, in which case Jupiter has been working overtime this year, with skin infections, epileptic seizures, and now arthritis in the hip. He’s taken pills, worn a cone, and will soon get massages and energy treatments. I am grateful. Even so, I couldn’t resist throwing a tantrum in the veterinarian parking lot after laying out yet more money I didn’t have to spend.

I have a Leo moon, which means I’m emotionally dramatic. But it’s in the 12th house, which means I try to compose myself with spiritual dignity and pretend I have no feelings. Those of us with 12th house moons have a long journey with our feelings. First we learn that no one wants to hear about them. We stop our crying to study the emotional rise and fall of our caretakers, endeavoring to keep them happy so we might be so. This is about as efficient and successful as a Rube Goldberg machine. So finally, much later, after we’re well-launched from our childhood home, we learn to take our eyes off others and begin the excavation of old energy in the body, digging up and releasing everything we pretended not to feel. This can take a long time, but it’s a wonderful initiation into the intricasies and power of the emotional life. The 12th house becomes a temple and we the priest or priestess who finally takes our feelings seriously. That means no emotion is too small to warrant tending–with a little insight, sympathy, humor, and creative ritual.

When I got home and contemplated my bank account, rather than shovel disappointment into the receptacle of my heart, I placed a black candle on my altar and briefly wailed, “Oh woe is me! Oh woe! I had to pay another $300 to the vet! Oh woe!” Then I lit the candle to hold vigil for my grief. Within an hour my grief had moved lightly on, and the next day, Jupiter was again joy-ing my heart as he went running through the field.