Each Full Moon presents us with an apparent dichotomy between the sign occupied by the Sun, and the opposite sign, occupied by the Moon. When we take a closer look, we realize that while these two archetypes may approach a situation from opposite directions, they’re at least moving toward a common center.
The dichotomy at the heart of this Full Moon pits faith (Moon/Neptune in Pisces) against reason (Sun in Virgo). Is “I don’t know—I just like him/her” a valid reason to support for someone who is running for public office? Is “I’m so in love!” a persuasive argument for marriage? Our Virgo instincts are outraged by such notions, insisting that important decisions must be based on logic, not hunches. Yet Virgo’s annotated list of well-considered arguments and carefully researched facts does nothing to assuage our Piscean ache for something, or someone, to believe in.
As much as those who sneer against “hope” and “faith” would like to believe otherwise, these matter a lot to a great many people. They are, in fact, matters for which many would give their lives, and they are concepts whose power is utterly immune to critical thinking. If you doubt it, try reasoning with a friend who is madly in love with a complete scoundrel. She may agree that he’s a louse, but she hopes he’ll change. Having relinquished reason, she allows her decisions about the relationship to be made by her powerful unconscious—with all its hopes, fears, nostalgia, and unspeakable longings.
It can be frustrating when those around you, especially those you love, see life through a lens that’s different from your own. As an astrologer, I can speak from first-hand experience about cynical scientists and insulting skeptics. But as someone with a couple of planets in Virgo, I also understand their point of view; to those who worship at the altar of rational thought, an astrologer must seem like a heretical ambassador from the loony bin.
The thing is, I’m a big fan of their god, the Virgo/Mercury god of discretion, logic, and scientific method. It’s just that I’m allied with another god as well — the Pisces/Neptune god that represents the mysterious connection of all things. I hope I would never sacrifice one of these gods for the other; I want them both vibrantly present in my life, and in the world. I cherish my friends and clients who have the ability to think critically, but also the humility to acknowledge that much of our world is unseen, unknowable, and richly compelling. I treasure fellow travelers who share a heartfelt, passionate, inclusive, and uplifting philosophy of life, but who realize that ideals will never change the world for good unless accompanied by intellectual honesty and a strong work ethic.
So if Virgo and Pisces are taking opposite paths to the same destination, what is their common ground? Nothing less than the nature of truth—and like superheroes possessing separate halves of a magic amulet, neither can access that knowledge without the other. Likewise, at this Full Moon we don’t have the luxury of taking sides in the reason vs. faith debate. If we do, we risk societal chaos and fatal spiritual poisoning. The only safe road runs through the middle ground, along the damp, sandy shore between Pisces’ waters and Virgo’s solid earth.
In a year that’s been filled with unpleasant and unexpected realities, fear and anger, we’re caught in a loop of confusing messages—it’s hard to be sure whom to believe or what to trust. This is where we benefit from the helpful checks and balances of Virgo, who points out the inconsistencies, distortions, and flat-out lies behind appealing façades. Neptunian idealism is a bit like sea water: you have to filter it pretty thoroughly before it’s safe to drink.
But by holding up a mirror that reflects all of our hopes and fears, Pisces/Neptune also offers insight—not the incisive observations of our Virgo/Mercury faculties, but an understanding of what we hold most dear, which can help us form a vision of where want to go. Because this Full Moon in Pisces unfolds in aspect to Uranus – the awakener- some of these insights will be unsettling, even shocking, but they will waken us from Neptune’s trance. And that’s a good thing, because we’re deciding which narrative to choose as our collective story. In order to choose wisely—to find our collective truth—we’ll need to be fully awake. And we’ll need every ounce of both faith and reason that we can get our hands on.