On Full Moons and Falling Back in Love
This spring break, the last one of my undergraduate career, was my first true mental break in over a year. Last spring break was heavy with the world shutting down and an awful sinus infection finding a way to destroy the last bit of emotional stability that I had, summer brought a social uprising and taking four summer classes (you know the ones when they push twelve-weeks of curriculum into much less? Yeah, those). Fall threw me, I felt like myself again, but I found myself writing my first feature film and getting very oddly specific recommendations when my algorithms took my writing research as a serious interest in the history of one particular mental institution in Dallas. I even spent my winter break working on that same script, tirelessly trying to meet a writing deadline while teaching myself more and more about character development, motivations, and hounding myself about walking the fine line of staying true to the story and trying to not let any of my internalized socialization too heavily impact the way the script turns. Finally, this spring break, I got the chance to breathe. But, I got caught up in my own habits.
There’s this thing about loving to write. Sometimes an emptiness will creep up, and it’s only then that you’re reminded that you have to purge words in order to feel like yourself. It is so much a part of me, that during the first moments of freedom in a long while, I found myself at 2 am curled up in bed, surrounded by spiral notebooks and old, scattered notes, starting a new script under the light of reruns of The Nanny.
It’s not like I ever fell out of love with writing. I’ve thrown myself into it since my fifth-grade teacher did a unit on poetry and we spent days flipping through the thesauruses and dictionaries. Of course, growing up changes things. There are essays that we’d rather not write, annotated bibliographies in classes that we’ll forget we took. All of it compiled, chasing the next stroke of brilliance can force you into an unintended mundane.
This time, the pacing changed. Especially in comparison to the work produced from the long year that seemed to have no end, the beauty of potential in new characters, new destinies, new wants, and needs was exciting, not rushed, not stressed. This is what I see as the Honeymoon period. It’s flirtatious, it’s boundless. (It isn’t my absolute favorite phase of writing, I’m a Capricorn Venus. If you know, you know.) But working on this new project, a drama about the inevitability of family ties and repeating generational mistakes, as well as doing edits on the short (that my highly neurotic self surprisingly wrote in two days), Beauty Will Save the World, have put me into the mindset of aligning my energy with that of the impending full moon.
The full moon in Libra this Sunday can mean a lot of things depending on anyone’s natal chart placements, but overall, Libra is a fascinating sign for creatives to come into contact with. Its ruler of the planet Venus, Aphrodite for Greek Mythology stans, is simply beautiful, charming, loveable, and open to the potential of romance. On its other side, is indecision, vanity, and melodrama. I know I can’t be the only person who finds myself embodying those traits to some extent. But there is justice for us creatives. It’s all about fair decisions. The symbol is literally a balanced scale.
This is all to say that this weekend, I have a challenge for you. Fall back in love with creating. Remind yourself of the details, in the way you’d remember the face of a lover, bit by bit. Make a list. Jot down your favorite words. Draw something. Paint something. Go reread your favorite poetry. Play.
I’m adding my full moon playlist if you want something to listen to as you stare at the moon this weekend, just as I’ll be doing. If we unknowingly do it at the same time, it’s kind of romantic.