I’ve been struggling with faith a bit lately. Not the “believe in yourself” sort of faith, but the deeper kind — the belief that somehow everything will work out the way it needs to.

I’ve always been a terrible sleeper, but lately there’s been this vague feeling in the background. Anxiety, I suppose. One of those low-level hums you can’t quite switch off.

In my heart I know things are okay — or probably will be. And even if they aren’t, they eventually will be again. But still…

And yet, that feels very much like the message of tomorrow’s Sagittarius Full Moon: belief. Faith in the bigger picture, the horizon, the eventual outcome.

It’s about knowing that no matter what happens, the earth keeps turning. The rain falls, the sun comes up again, and somewhere between the storm clouds and the rainbows, life keeps moving forward. Somehow, it all works out.

This Full Moon asks us to balance what we know in our heads with what we know in our hearts — and there’s a difference.

With Mercury, the Sun and Uranus currently in Gemini, there are questions being asked, information being gathered, data being analysed. This is the stuff we think we know.

But at the other end of the scale is the quieter knowing. The instinctive kind. The faith that after a hard day there’ll be a glass of red wine waiting, that tomorrow will come, and the sun will rise with it.

Sagittarius — represented here by the Moon — is about truth, faith, optimism and belief. Gemini — where the Sun currently sits — is about facts, information and logic. Head versus heart. Data versus wisdom.

So the question under this Full Moon becomes: what truth do you already know, but haven’t yet acknowledged? Because Sagittarius energy has very little patience for avoidance.

And because Sagittarius is a Fire sign, this isn’t passive faith. It’s not sitting quietly and hoping for the best. It’s active. Questing. Curious. Brave enough to step into something unknown because something deep inside says it matters.

That’s the symbolism of the arrow — aiming beyond what you can currently see.

Wherever this Full Moon falls in your chart is where you’re being asked to trust yourself enough to go further, think bigger, travel wider or stretch beyond your usual boundaries.

For me, the overall message feels something like this: have a little faith. Ride the unexpected stuff. Look for the rainbow, not just the storm clouds, and loosen your grip enough to enjoy the ride along the way.

Or, to quote Crush the Sea Turtle from Finding Nemo:
“You never really know. But when you know, you know. You know?”

Anyways, I think that’s what this Full Moon is about: keeping the faith. Choosing light over shade. Trusting the horizon even when you can’t yet see the destination. Being brave enough to take the leap and trusting that either you’ll land safely…or at the very least have one hell of an adventure along the way.

It’s about moving beyond what you know…to what you know.

The technical stuff

It feels fitting that the two rulers of this Full Moon are both in signs where they’re very comfortable.

Jupiter in Cancer is in the sign of his exaltation. Sure, it’s not technically home territory, but it’s definitely “bring out the good towels and the visitor biscuits” territory. And because he’s not making major aspects to anyone else right now, he gets to be about as Jupiterian as possible — hopeful, expansive and quietly generous.

As for Mercury, he’s still at home in Gemini…although not for much longer. Within a day or so of this Full Moon, he’ll move into Cancer, so he’s making the most of these final Gemini moments: curious, chatty and mentally switched on.

The other major player here is Saturn, supporting both the Sun and Moon through harmonious aspects.

Which feels like an important reminder: faith works best when it has something solid beneath it. If you’ve done the work, built the foundations and put the structures in place, there’s every reason to believe things can unfold the way they’re meant to.

Doing it for yourself …

The Full Moon is exact at 9 Sagittarius 56’. Where is this happening for you? Does the Full Moon make any aspects to planets or points in your chart?

• If you have planets at 5-15 degrees of Sagittarius, they will be conjunct the Full Moon

• If you have planets at 5-15 Gemini, they will be opposite the Full Moon

• If you have planets at 5-15 Pisces or Virgo, they will be square the Full Moon

• If you have planets at 5-15 Leo or Aries, they will be trine the Full Moon

• If you have planets at 5-15 Libra or Aquarius, they will be sextile the Full Moon

This is tenth and fourth house stuff for me, and I’ve recently had the realisation that I need to be writing astrology again. That it’s as much a part of me as the fiction is. I also need to be doing readings again – just a few each month. Not so many that my boundaries feel breached, but enough to add value.

I’ve booked a live workshop here on the Sunny Coast for August and have the first couple of my “What I Know About …” booklets ready to hit Amazon.

Wish me luck!

I had another post planned and scheduled for this New Moon. Then I went back and read some of the older posts on my original blog and got sidetracked. One in particular grabbed me. It was from ten years ago, yet the emotions it brought up as I read it felt as raw today as they had then.

I’d written that post the day before our wedding anniversary and a couple of days before we flew out for a holiday in Bali. Hubby had started long service leave to step back from the nastiness at his workplace, and I was considering resigning from my extremely high-pressure job. A lot of other stuff was going on in the background – it’s fair to say every single part of our lives had imploded. All our structures, the ones we’d taken for granted, were wobbling, and we were both stressed to the max.

Here’s what I wrote then:

It’s our wedding anniversary tomorrow. Twenty-two years ago, on a sunny autumn day in Canberra, we did the “I do” thing. Twenty-seven years ago this month, we started dating.

It hasn’t all been plain sailing- no long-term relationship is. I think sometimes that we’re better together. In any case, it’s our anniversary tomorrow and on Sunday, we fly to Bali for some time away together.

Somehow it seems fitting that there’s a New Moon on our anniversary this year. You see, today hubby effectively finishes his time at the company he first joined straight out of school, 36 years ago. Yep, you heard me right. Thirty-six years. Let’s just say it hasn’t been stress-free getting to this point.

There’s a lot of other stuff going on in the background too – one of which could lead us to sell our house. Although we’ve talked about downsizing over the last 12 months, we haven’t been ready to make the jump. It seems, though, as if the Universe has other plans, and circumstances are bringing this decision closer.

It got me thinking about what I’d need to do to downsize… and that made my head hurt. We have way too much stuff – so much more than we need.

First there are my cookbooks, my reading books, and my travel books. Then there’s the china – so much china…so much of it never used. Some were given to me by my grandmother; the rest were purchased during an eBay whirlwind. They’re perfect for afternoon tea parties with cupcakes and scones that I’ll never have.

While it’s lovely, we don’t need most of this. But my husband says:

‘You never know when you’ll need it’

‘It all has sentimental value.’

The thing is, I don’t need to dust these things to remember the feelings that prompted me to buy them or hold on to them. On the contrary, I never look at them, and hubby doesn’t give them a thought until I suggest de-cluttering.

So, I’ll be gradually letting of much of it- gently and thoughtfully.

My point? Most of us have too much of something. For a rainy day. In case we run out. In case we don’t have enough… or are enough.

Sometimes it’s the very act of holding onto something, gathering up something, or purchasing something that makes us feel safe, secure, and well-fed.

We can also be attached to feelings, to a hair-style, to the past. We can be attached to the way things are, the way things were, or the way that we think they might be. We can be attached to a dream, a hope, or a vision. We can be attached to a lost love, the idea of love, the fantasy of a love. Some of us can even be attached to feeling sad, negative and fearful.

Not everything that we hang onto is, by definition, good. How many people do you know of in unhealthy relationships for whatever reason? How many people do you know who will listen to good advice and then pop their own roadblocks or excuses up? I’ll be the first to put my own hand up for that one – on several different levels.

Letting go of what we are attached to can be scary, as it removes an excuse to move forward. Holding onto that clutter or baggage can weigh you down, physically or symbolically. It’s there in the friend who insists on closure from her ex before saying yes to the guy standing in front of her. It’s there when we hold onto a job long past its use-by date because the current one, for all its faults, makes us feel safe. It’s there when we hold onto a pair of jeans that are two (or is it three?) sizes too small because throwing them out feels almost like abandoning the idea that we’ll ever fit into them again.

At the end of the day, those jeans really are just jeans (no pun or inadvertent advertising intended) and getting rid of them is not an admission of failure. It’s acknowledging that they are taking up valuable room in your wardrobe that can be filled with something fabulous and new when you do drop those two sizes.

It’s the knowing when to let go, when enough is enough, when less is more, that’s the hard bit. Yet, in letting go, there is the peace of just being. At that point, we now know we are enough, we are self-reliant, our satisfaction coming from inside us rather than from the “things” and habits we have gathered around us…and that’s what this Taurus New Moon is all about.

There was a lot I couldn’t say in that post.

I couldn’t say that he was being bullied out of a job because, at 54, he was considered too old and no longer the right fit for the demographic. I couldn’t say the same thing had happened to every man he’d started with — all of a similar age and all on a superannuation plan that had since been scrapped, but which guaranteed a return if they could just make it to 55. I couldn’t tell you he took long service leave at half pay simply to get there. And I definitely couldn’t tell you how furious his employer was that we’d found a loophole.

Nor could I say that the highly stressful job I had was an outsourced role for the same bank that was bullying him. And I couldn’t admit how terrified I was of losing him — physically or mentally — to the pressure they were putting him under.

Those couple of weeks in Bali helped. Especially the comment from a driver who laughed at westerners like us who work themselves into exhaustion to pay for holidays designed to help them recover from work… only to go home and work just as hard to pay for the next escape.

Seven weeks later, we had a week in Mooloolaba between me finishing one job and starting another. The idea that had begun to germinate in Bali started to grow. Was it really so crazy? Could we actually pack up our lives and move to the Sunshine Coast? We’d always said we would… someday. Had someday arrived?

What were we staying in Sydney for? I liked my job. I loved our friends, our family, and our house. But I didn’t like my life. In hindsight, it barely felt like one: three hours a day commuting, writing every night and all weekend, squeezing friends and family into tiny rationed gaps of time, no room for fun, rest, or exercise. I was a heart attack waiting to happen.

What were we doing it for? What if, instead of struggling to pay the mortgage and being permanently exhausted, we stepped off the treadmill and actually lived? Was that even possible?

Yes. But not in Sydney.

Reading that post from ten years ago brought all of it flooding back.

We did sell. We did move. We did make the sea change. Yes, it was a massive financial risk, but in hindsight it wasn’t just the best option — it was the only one. If we’d stayed in Sydney and tried to hang on, we might have lost everything.

It was a leap, but one that now feels inevitable for a plan begun under a Taurus New Moon.

The plan took almost twelve months to come together, but once we committed, we plotted it carefully and stuck to our guns — stubbornly, and despite plenty of opposition and guilt.

It required letting go of so much, both physically and emotionally. Unusually for me, I was the one who struggled most with that part.

The whole experience also taught us the value of having a buffer — a very Taurean concept. We had a Plan B for a rainy day, a Plan C for Plan B, and a Plan D for Plan C. Thank goodness we did, because financially things became very tight for a while, and it was that buffer that carried us through.

The important thing, though, was that going back was never Plan B. Every backup plan we made was about supporting Plan A, not escaping from it the moment things became difficult.

At first, I worried endlessly about money — about going from two corporate salaries to one. I worried there wouldn’t be enough, that we weren’t enough, that we didn’t have enough. In the end, none of that mattered nearly as much as I thought it would.

Ten years later, I can say without hesitation that letting go and making the move was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made. He’s healthier than he’s been in decades, and while I’m still stubbornly hanging onto my weight, I’m healthier too — at least on the inside.

Emotionally, we’re both worlds away from where we were back then. I haven’t completely let go of everything that was weighing me down, but I’ve slowed down. I’m more grounded. I appreciate life, nature, and all the things I never had time for when I was busy being busy… and busy drowning.

Anyways, enough about me. Somewhere in your chart is Taurus, and wherever 25° Taurus 58’ falls is where you may need to let go of something weighing you down or holding you back. It’s where you’re asked to recognise what’s enough — or create the buffer you need if it genuinely isn’t. It’s where you can plant seeds for future abundance, and not just financially.

Make a plan. Stick to it. Have a backup — but make sure that backup supports the dream rather than becoming an escape clause for when things get hard.

And remember: Taurus is about the long haul, not quick wins.

Confession time. I’ve been writing this post for a week now—just a line here and there as time permits. My priority right now is finishing the (still untitled) Wellington novel, which is due with my editor at the end of May. After all, there was no rush… the Scorpio Full Moon wasn’t until May.

Oh look. It’s May.

So yes, this is landing a little after the actual Full Moon, and it may feel a touch disjointed in places. Think of it as a collection of thoughts that I’ve cobbled together from previous posts and given a new spin on, rather than something neatly tied up with a bow.

Because, really, Scorpio energy was never going to be neat. It’s one of the (many) things I love about it.

As we know, the Full Moon is like a high beam, illuminating two opposing parts of life. This time, it’s Taurus and Scorpio.

Taurus represents the body – the physical, the tangible, the things we hold onto. Scorpio represents the soul – the unseen, the emotional, the things we need to release. Taurus retains; Scorpio eliminates.

So the question becomes: what are you still holding onto that you no longer need?

Maybe it’s a truth sitting just beyond your line of sight. Something you know is there, but would rather not look at too closely. Something you need to say, but can’t quite find the words for.

Under a Scorpio Full Moon, this is the work. To find it. To face it. To feel it. And, eventually, to let it go.

Simple, right? Not even slightly.

Because this Moon is also about trust. A small word that carries a ridiculous amount of weight. To trust is to lay yourself bare and hope someone meets you there, with acceptance, not judgment.

No wonder we resist it.

We cling instead to old patterns, old stories, old outcomes – because even if they don’t serve us, at least they’re familiar. There’s a strange comfort in knowing how things will play out… even when we already know it won’t end well.

And this is where Scorpio lives.

In the obsessions. The grudges. The revenge fantasies. The things we’d rather pretend we’re above, but aren’t. (I can see you nodding from here).

It’s the shadow place, where we store everything we don’t want to deal with. Our fears. Our desires. The things we repress, hide, deny… and secretly yearn for.

It’s the place where we wait for messages we know aren’t coming. Where we feel the pull of the forbidden. Where we go beneath the surface in search of meaning, healing, and transformation. Where we feel things so deeply we can’t put them into words.

But here’s the thing, Scorpio is also about power. And nothing holds more power over us than fear.

Fear convinces us we’re in control. It tells us to stay safe, to say no, to build walls—keeping others out, and ourselves in. It wraps itself up as logic and responsibility, and we believe it.

Until we don’t.

Because underneath all of that?

We’re hungry. Hungry for desire. For passion. For connection. For power. For something more. The kind of hunger that keeps you awake at night, quietly gnawing away.

So what do we do?

We bury it.

We dig a hole in the centre of our soul, throw in everything that scares us – all the things we want too much to risk – and cover it over. Layer after layer. Lock it down tight. With a big, heavy wrought iron lid…and a key…with a lock that has a password or a combination…on time delay. Pretend it’s gone.

Then we distract ourselves. Feed the emptiness with food, wine, busyness… excuses. Sensible reasons why we didn’t take the chance, didn’t say the thing, didn’t go after what we really wanted.

But the hunger doesn’t go away. It just waits.

And here’s where Scorpio steps back in, because what’s buried doesn’t stay buried forever. Sooner or later, it resurfaces. And when it does, it’s usually mankier, heavier, and far more confronting than it needed to be.

An alternative is to take back the power we’ve handed over to fear and use it as fuel instead. To clear out what no longer serves – beliefs, behaviours, even people – and trust that we’ll be okay on the other side.

Because you will be.

Another thing about Scorpio is it demands honesty. The sort of “you can’t handle the truth” honesty. It digs deep, whether we like it or not. But it also offers something in return: transformation. Healing. A chance to reclaim the parts of yourself you’ve hidden away.

Our shadow is obsession. Our light is transformation.

And under this Full Moon, both are illuminated.

So have a look at where Scorpio sits in your chart – that’s where the spotlight is shining for you right now. Pay attention to anything stirring beneath the surface, especially if you have planets or points around 11 degrees of Scorpio (or any of the fixed signs).

And most of all, be honest with yourself. You can handle the truth.

What do you really, really want?

Because chances are… you already know.

If you Google it, you’ll find a heap of statistics that are out there telling us how many people break their New Year’s Resolutions.

You’ll find even more who want to estimate how many people fail to honour them… isn’t that the same thing really? Either way, the number is estimated at anything between 60-88%, depending on the source you read. Even though I have this theory that 94.5% of all statistics are made up, I tend to believe that these numbers are close to the mark. But Astrology, or more specifically, the New Moon in Aries, is here to give you another shot at it.

Whether your goal is to lose weight, quit smoking, reduce debt, cut back on unhealthy habits, or accelerate your 5-year plan with a 2-year deadline, the chances are that sitting here now in April, things have gone off track.

The question of when is the right time to say those fateful words “This year I will….” remains uncertain. Should you do it before, during, or after the New Year’s Eve party? Should you say it precisely at the 1st, last, or exactly at midnight? Should you take your time to think about your goal (and for the effects of the NYE party to fade) and make your resolution for the first New Moon of the year—perhaps in Capricorn? Or should you wait even longer until Chinese New Year, or perhaps until the astrological New Year when the Sun moves into Aries at the end of March?

History, it seems, agrees that the best time to make a New Year Resolution is in the northern spring. I read a column by Dr Rick Miller (from a University of Nebraska Kearney online publication) who wrote that the earliest recording of New Year Resolutions was by the Babylonians 4000 years ago.

It seems, however, that the most common goal of the ancient Babylonians was not to shed 20 kgs or be nice to that girl/guy in the next partition — it was… wait for it… to return borrowed farm equipment.

There’s much to be said for the idea that the best time to make a New Year resolution is actually now—perhaps in the next few days with the New Moon in Aries, the first New Moon of the astrological year.

During the Balsamic phase we get rid of everything we no longer need, perform whatever banishing rituals we need to perform and wipe the slate clean. At the New Moon, we start the cycle again.

The New Moon energy is always one of new beginnings. And nothing says new beginnings better than an Aries New Moon.

A New Moon turns the sky into a great big empty blackboard that you can write your intentions on… I love that. And there is nothing quite as new as an Aries New Moon. Especially an Aries New Moon that has a stellium of Aries planets lined up behind it in support. Most unusually, this New Moon will not form a traditional aspect (i.e., by sextile, trine, square or opposition) to any planet outside of Aries. The closest point is Jupiter in Cancer, and at 10° separation, that’s too far in my book to be counted. You could say this New Moon is all about Aries.

The Aries energy embodies a youthful, almost childlike enthusiasm for exploring, being the first, and starting something extraordinary. First experiences can never be repeated — that’s what makes them so special. You can’t share a first kiss twice, visit a place for the first time again, or board a plane for the first time twice… well, you get the idea.

First things and first times are also intimidating. The whole point of them is that you don’t know what to expect, what will happen, or how it will turn out. It requires you to take those initial steps into the dark with only your enthusiasm to guide you.

So, for those of you with a neighbour’s lawnmower, shovel, trailer, or whipper snipper that you borrowed ages ago from your best mate (and you know who you are…), make like the Babylonians and include in your First New Moon of the Astrological Year a resolution to return it. Then, grab what is on offer with both hands—without that whipper snipper in the back shed, you’ll have plenty of room.

DIY it?

If you’ve been reading along, you should know how to find where the New Moon is happening in your chart. If you’re new to this site (welcome), duck across and check out this post before you go any further.

Once you’ve found Aries, the position you’re looking for is 27 Aries 29’…or thereabouts.

Now, let’s set our intentions. Think about the area of life you’re focusing on and set small achievable targets. Make sure that you do at least one thing towards this goal this month.

· How do the concerns of this house make you feel?

· How would you like to feel about them?

· What positive steps can you take over the next four weeks to minimise the gap between how you feel about this are and how you’d like to feel?

If you don’t have any idea about your birth time, or can’t be faffed working it out, you can follow the solar guide:

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Aries, This New Moon will be in your 1st house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Taurus, This New Moon will be in your 12th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Gemini, This New Moon will be in your 11th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Cancer, This New Moon will be in your 10th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Leo, This New Moon will be in your 9th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Virgo, This New Moon will be in your 8th house.

· If your Sun of Ascendant is in Libra This New Moon will be in your 7th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Scorpio, This New Moon will be in your 6th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Sagittarius, This New Moon will be in your 5th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Capricorn, This New Moon will be in your 4th house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Aquarius, This New Moon will be in your 3rd house.

· If your Sun or Ascendant is in Pisces, This New Moon will be in your 2nd house.

Wherever this falls in your chart is where you need to channel your inner warrior. It’s where you need to find the courage to take that first step, to explore new territory. It’s where you find yourself if you’ve been lost. It’s where you need to just flipping do it.

And me?

This New Moon falls in my 2^nd house, so I’ll be spending some time with my finances and budgets. It’s the annual review of all those “for the price of a coffee a month” subscriptions that add up.

I’ll also get my business tax return lodged and see just what sort of a loss I sustained last year.

At 27 Aries 29’, the only planet being aspected by this new moon is Jupiter, but because Jupiter is both the ruler of my chart and central to a larger pattern in my chart, it will act as a kind of pinball and ricochet around the chart. From Jupiter over to Uranus, then onto Neptune and finally across to the Moon in Pisces.

I’m choosing to see this as planetary promise … and the best kind of energy for the best kind of new starts. Time will tell.

Alrighty, I’d like you to picture a beach ball. One of those blow-up ones that has ball-shaped wedges in different colours. Have you got that?

Now imagine that ball is between two people, or maybe three or four.

One side might be pink and orange stripes, while the other could be white and green. A third person would see pink and green, while a fourth might see orange and white. All of these people are correct. But, if you turn the ball around, everyone will see a different colour combination. They’re getting a different perspective on the ball situation.

At this Libra Full Moon, it’s that perspective that’s being brought into the spotlight. It’s a reminder to take a step back and see things from the other side. That there might just be more than one correct answer or response and that sometimes, no matter how angry you are, you have to somehow find a way of rising above the anger to see the whole picture.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to basics and look at the two signs involved in this Full Moon.

First, Aries. Yes, one of the archetypes for Mars-ruled Aries is the Warrior, but let’s not dwell on that so much, especially not now. Aries is also about action and motion and getting things done now already, and why are we still talking about this, people? In my beach ball example, if Aries sees pink and orange, there is no way the other side could be white and green. What are you talking about?

But, if you turn that ball around, and we’re now looking at white and green, the other side absolutely isn’t pink and orange and never has been. And you think I’m talking tongue-in-cheek? Possible, but I’ve also conducted this experiment in the real world. (Okay, I haven’t really, but … moving on.)

Libra is the opposite. Venus-ruled Libra is graceful and seeks balance and harmony. Where Aries is rushing to the finish line, Libra is taking her time, enjoying a chat and the connections made along the way.

At this Full Moon, while it’s tempting to meet anger with more anger, force with even more force, it is possible to be assertive without being aggressive. Anyways, as well as actively looking for the other side, the wider view, the new perspective, it also helps to seek out some tranquillity. An oasis, if you like, away from the noise and the messiness. To tread a little more gently. Treat people with a little more grace. Meet them somewhere in the middle.

Jupiter and Saturn are both in play at this Full Moon, Jupiter, dare I say it, more than Saturn. Although the aspect is challenging, breakthroughs are possible with a little effort and with heed to the lessons of the past.

The Full Moon signifies the midpoint in this Moon cycle for whatever was begun under the Pisces New Moon. It’s a little like a midpoint review. From here the light wanes and as it does there are opportunities to let go of what you no longer need.

On a larger scale, it’s also the midpoint of any wider goals you set at the last Libra New Moon, so keep that one in mind too.