“I had a diva moment,” I recounted to my sleepy looking husband, explaining the letter I received from a program for which I had applied that had asked me to prove my astrology knowledge by writing out a lengthy astrological interpretation for a hypothetical case study. “Are you kidding? I get paid to do this! Doesn’t my decade of experience as an astrological counsellor count for anything?” I exclaimed, feeling not a little bit self-righteous in my own justifications. “Okay. What did you do?” John asked wearily. It was late, he was tired. Righteousness turning to humility, I meekly replied, “Um, I told them as much.”
This was a big aberration. The idea of asking for the red sea to part, just for me, or to ask for special recognition or accolades above others, generally, is foreign to my character. And so after sending the email, as the hours wore on and shame began gnawing at me and a knot in my stomach grew, I turned to my Leo for advice. “Now I’m embarrassed that the review board will see me as one of ‘those people’ – the kind who move through the world making drama, demands and creating headaches for others.”
He heaved a big lion sigh. “Did you expect to be treated differently?” Well, yes, I blundered…I had. Now disappointed by John’s response, my righteousness directed itself toward him. “You’re assuming it was wrong of me to ask for special consideration for my accomplishments.” No, he said, he just didn’t understand why I was placing my self-worth in their hands. That struck a nerve. He was right. I had been. I wanted to be recognised as worthy and special, by them. When they hadn’t, I roared and created drama.
The funny thing is, it felt oddly good to roar. It felt good to be one of “those people”. Even in the aftermath of this humbling and shameful recognition, my long-lost inner Leo exclaimed: Ah, so this is how it feels! Stretch. Yawn. Take up space. Rawwrh! But where was this coming from? My Solar Arc Saturn, Sun, Vesta and Mid-Heaven (at that infamous 29 degrees) are all in Leo. Oh, that’s where. I am comfortable with being the creative, the artist – but the desire for recognition and acclaim – apparently that is my shadow. Because boy did it feel taboo, and wicked good, to let my proud Lioness roar.
Declaring our desire to be noticed and appreciated is apart of having a healthy ego. The desire to be truly seen for who we are is as natural as rain. But looking for worth in others’ eyes, for validation of worth, lovability or success as a person… one may as well be placing one’s head into the mouth of a hungry beast. A self-possessed Queen or King rarely finds the need to roar. They are quietly, powerfully, in command. Because they know their own worth and honor, they offer that to others, who naturally give them that in return. At this New Moon, we can play with being a royal, owning our dignity and worth.
This Leo New Moon marks middle of a 40-day cycle of Venus review. We’ve been initiated into the fiery drama of our heart. Like Venus, we’re still knee deep in the underworld, and the rules aren’t the same here. Mice can turn into lions, shy lovers into casanovas. We may see where we have been ‘in the dark’ about our self and our companions. Deep wants and desires that have been disassociated from our above life, our day self, could become clear. We may find a wild child part of our self who has been living in the shadowy forest, so long neglected she or he is now starved for integration, attention and affection.
This is a very special New Moon. Venus kisses the Sun in an inferior conjunction. You can make magic here, in this Venus underworld. Toss out negative beliefs and inferiority complexes. Seed new values about your worth, specialness, beauty and deservedness. Declare new intentions. Declare your desires! And most importantly, have fun with it. This is Venus in Leo. Be colorful! Play! Create! Roar!
Under the beams of Leo, life is a colorful parade. Coquette Venus implores us simply to watch, bask in the fanfare, notice the spectacle, the surprises. Who, what, will arrive? Old loves, lovers, art forms and play? Unexpected accolades, affection and generosity? A new side of one’s self? The morning after my diva moment I sat down at my computer awaiting the dreaded email response. Expecting a reiteration of the requirements, which I’d humbly complete with a smile, when it arrived the email was all apologies and diplomacy. The form letter I received was in error, and, no, of course I didn’t need to take the test. When I read this, I knew the work I’d done on myself over the past 24 hours paved the way for this magic. Like the cat who caught the canary, I forwarded the email to Leo John, who replied: “I guess you really are a Diva!” Hmm. Well then, in my dressing room, I must have Evian water. And about those brown M&M’s…