July Theme: Activating the Ancestral Line

By Simone Butler

With both the Sun and Moon in the motherly sign of Cancer, Edith MacKay Hewes was the ultimate nurturer. My grandma expressed her love in many ways, but mostly through food--making lemonade from Meyer lemons straight off the tree, and baking from scratch. Sometimes when I'd spend the weekend with her and Grandpa at their small, clapboard Encinitas house, she and I would make noodles the way her Scottish mother had taught her--by draping the strips of dough across furniture to rise overnight. Eating Grandma's savory chicken and noodles, all was right with the world.

Just after Grandma's death in 1983, her spirit paid me a visit. I'd been performing an African ancestor ritual to help her cross over, when I felt a curious compulsion to prepare some warm milk, as she often did. I poured the nourishing liquid into two teacups that had belonged to her. Then, I set one on the altar I'd made for Grandma after her death, and sat down on the bed to sip from the other. A palpable golden light poured in the window and enveloped me in bliss. It was Grandma saying, "I'll always love you."

As someone with Sun conjunct independent Uranus in Cancer, I've tried to distance myself from family entanglements. Grandma's legacy haunts me; she came from a more repressive age in which women didn't drive, and always obeyed their husbands. In some vital way, I didn't really know her. Entwined as she was in the family web, she never discovered who she was as an individual. She got ulcers from stuffing her anger toward my irascible grandfather. Still, especially when our birthday month rolls around, she calls me back to a simpler life of warm milk and cookies, and picking daisies in the garden.

The July 11 New Moon/total solar eclipse at 19 Cancer (12:40 pm Pacific time) activates our ancestral lines. It's time to think about the people you come from. You stand at the head of the line, carrying their legacy forward. Is it one you're proud of? Do you resonate with it? If not, this powerful eclipse can help you change direction on a cellular level--perhaps even modify your DNA--and model something new for the next generation.

We are making an evolutionary leap this month, with old forms and archaic systems dying as they're exposed to the incoming influx of light. As a geyser on the deep sea floor spews forth the fossilized remains of our pre-human ancestors, there's an upwelling of anguish and conviction that the age of corporate greed and fossil fuels is over. Concern for Mother Earth is finally in the forefront, as we realize the need to make a radical shift.

This eclipse is our Mother's cry as she awakens and takes back her power. It falls during the same timeframe as Jupiter, Uranus, Saturn and Mars align in a rare, potent Cardinal T-square (which culminates in a Grand Cross on August 6 when triggered by the Moon). By the time Mars joins Saturn on July 31, there will be no turning back. Big decisions have to be made, both in our collective and personal lives. The multitude of electrifying squares and oppositions in action-oriented cardinal signs are jumpstarting a new phase that will culminate in the birth of a much healthier world.

The new phase we're entering will be marked by greater caring and sharing--not because it's the "right" thing to do, but because it makes common sense for our survival as a species. But we have to get out of the way as the old forms fall, and realize that the current chaos is necessary to the birth.

At this New Moon, consider whether you're living the life you want to live. Are you happy? Healthy? Doing what your soul longs to do? If not, it's time to rewrite your tribal beliefs and commit to what nurtures you more deeply. This may require a little "creative destruction," in which you allow some parts of you to die. Ask your ancestors to help you preserve the best of the past while you let go of old attachments, resentments and burdens. And, be sure to treat yourself to a beautiful, nourishing meal at the eclipse. Mine will be topped by a homemade Meyer lemon tart, to honor my Grandma's enduring love.

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