May 12. The Moon’s in Scorpio at 22º, and she’s not here to make small talk. She’s here to rip the polite mask off your emotional face and ask: What have you done with your fire?
This isn’t just a culmination—it’s a reckoning. Whatever you planted back on November 1st, 2024, under the New Moon in Scorpio is now fully grown, staring you down with the eyes of a creature you hoped would never come back. Guess what? It remembered.
This Moon is opposing Uranus in Taurus, which is like trying to hold a séance during an earthquake. Uranus shakes, Taurus digs in, and the Moon? She floods it all. We’re talking friction between comfort and chaos, between needing security and secretly wanting to burn the house down just to feel something. And here's the kicker—Uranus is in harmony with the North Node and Saturn in Pisces. Which means: if you're willing to surrender control (yes, even the illusion of it), this chaos becomes a map. A weird, watery, paradox-riddled map that only works if you feel it instead of reading it.
Now Pluto, the dark god of the underworld and ruler of Scorpio, is retrograde in Aquarius and squaring Mercury in Taurus. That’s a psychic sledgehammer smashing through fixed thoughts. Expect breakdowns in communication—especially the kinds of thoughts you thought were yours. (They’re not.) Expect old programming to be exposed as obsolete. Expect reality to glitch when your mind can’t compute what your body already knows.
This Moon doesn’t want you to be safe. It wants you to be real.
And the Sabian symbol? “A Rabbit Metamorphoses Into a Nature Spirit.” That’s not just poetic. It’s code. It speaks to the transmutation of raw instinct—sexual drive, fear, survival mode—into something subtler, more ethereal, more alive. This isn’t about denial of instinct, but elevation. The rabbit, often seen as overwhelmed by its own generative force, doesn’t suppress itself here—it shapeshifts. It becomes the spirit that guides the very life-force it once obeyed blindly. This Full Moon doesn’t just climax a cycle—it demands a transubstantiation. You’re not being asked to kill the animal in you. You’re being dared to evolve it.
Here’s the truth no one wants to hear: Some parts of you are wild. And they’re not wrong. They’re not broken. They’re not "too much." They’ve just been waiting for a moon like this to remember who they answer to. And it isn’t the algorithm.
This isn’t about spiritual bypassing, ascension plans, or lunar love letters. This is Scorpio. She wants your guts. Not your glitter.
So go ahead. Surrender. Grieve the old shell. Burn the costume. Mourn the mask. And then emerge—not reborn, but remembered. You didn’t come here to be liked. You came here to be whole.
May the wild rabbit in you keep shapeshifting.
—Deborah & Lorien
Unlicensed astrologers. Certified breakers of cosmic comfort zones.
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