Reflecting on the great solar eclipse that took place August 21st, 2017, and the symbolism manifest through this summer’s end, I feel a few narratives still close to the surface of my heart.
The Moon eclipsing the Sun is… that which is unknown or unacknowledged coming to usurp whomever acts willfully without seeking to consult the hidden.
The Moon eclipsing the Sun is… the people gnashing at the misgiven hands of a tyrant.
The Moon eclipsing the Sun is… a time of reckoning for a presiding patriarch or matriarch.
With a solar eclipse, some may look to the public sphere for the downfall of a notable figure. This might take place soon after the celestial event, or perhaps months later with the delayed releasing of eclipse effects in their birth chart. Think current scandals. This is one of the profound expressions an eclipse such as that of August 21st can take the form of.
For me, I return again and again to a dream the morning of July 25th. Nestled between other nightscapes I can still see flashes of in my head, this brief vision contained an old friend of mine I lived with in 2009. He and I admired things about each other, but weren’t very close; I was closer to the two women of the house, as chemistry goes.
It’s important to mention that he is an August 15th Leo, and I am a December 29th Capricorn, born eight days after the solstice that represents the death of the Sun.
I described the dream to him along these lines, the first time we’d spoken in over eight years:
“You approached and sat very close in front of me, in a room that was almost completely dark. A few others seemed near but I couldn't make them out. You reminded me of who you were, but of course I had already recognized you and said your name, then leaned in to give you a hug.”
I imparted this to him the next day, because soon after waking I read that his mother had died.
The death of the Sun takes many forms, preceding with hints, followed by consummation, releasing as its powerful light reminds that it was ever obscured. That its temporary death is a victory in its own right, along with every moment it pours out to reveal.
I felt the light and warmth of our recognition and embrace, the womblike but somber darkness in the dream to be the essence of her and her absence wrapped up at once, the closeness of indiscernible others around us like everyone you know quietly singing all your victories and faults, yet comforting you, as identity dissolves and drips into a form that will coagulate anew upon accepting what has come to pass.
[ Artwork by Carl Jung ]