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The Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli’s 15th century painting Primavera is uniquely related to this week’s morning sky scene, especially Thursday, February 1st, when the gibbous Moon wanes past the star Spica an hour before sunrise.
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There are three things that draw my attention to this week’s Full Moon, which occurs on Thursday, January 25 around noon.
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It meant you had permission to be yourself—something I didn’t feel anywhere else. Permission to sit on the floor of the coat closet in the dark and feel safe—watching the light come through the colored glass.
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This time I do know that I’ll never wear that long corduroy skirt again. I could pretend it’s out of style but the fact is that the waist is too tight. Ouch, I said it. Into the box it goes.
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With last week’s New Moon as the first of the New Year, it’s time to look at what everybody else is doing. This week my eye is on Venus.
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“We all have baggage by this age,” I say. She and I are no longer young but not yet ready to be old. We sip our glasses of wine and reflect on our own baggage, that load of hang-ups and heartaches we carry around.
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I am reminded how our things outlast us, which I find reassuring and unsettling at once.
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What I most want for Christmas is for someone to say, “Tell me about your mom.” It might be the gift everyone was waiting for, that invitation: Just tell me.”
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Solstice, which means “the standing still of the Sun,” is like the pause in human breathing, between inbreath and outbreath, outbreath to inbreath.
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