11.11-11.17.2025: The Sun, The Moon, Ace of Cups
As a mom of two young children, I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of the “missing village” lately. I have supportive family and friends, but most of the people I consider to be in my inner circle also have young children of their own—and/or aging parents, and/or lots of other responsibilities. It feels hard to ask for help. Nicole, Kari, and I have often half-joked about moving to a colony (or at least a cul-de-sac) and co-raising each others’ kids. Picture three houses with a shared backyard, a giant garden in the middle that we take turns tending to, kids taking turns playing at each of our houses, grown-ups taking turns raking leaves and making meals. That utopian society version of community isn’t realistic for most, but I think many of us can relate to this longing for a VILLAGE. A community with built-in support that you don’t even have to ask for. It’s just there. It’s part of the cultural make-up. The stark reality is that our current society just isn’t built that way—at least not in the U.S. where productivity is valued over people, self-sufficiency is praised as a noble trait, and parental leave is an absolute joke (not the funny kind).
So today, I felt called to ask the cards about this absence of a village. What truth do we need to remember? What’s holding us back collectively (aside from the obvious) from building the community we so crave? What first steps will propel us towards the village we envision—or at least move us a degree or two in the right direction?
First things first, the Moon delivers the truth we need to remember: we've all got shadowy shit. You might be hesitant to open your heart and home to another for fear that they might see something ugly—literally or metaphorically. And you know what? You’re right! They might. AND ALSO: There’s not a single person on this earth that doesn’t have something they’d rather others don’t see or know about them. We all carry something around with us that we’re ashamed of or embarrassed about or prefer to keep in the dark. We all have weird and wonky things (in our homes, in our personalities, in our families). We can’t let those things hold us back from building the community we crave.
The Sun tends to agree. As the bright and shiny counterpart (and literal illuminator) of the Moon, the Sun reminds us that sometimes what’s holding us back is this internalized pressure to always be “on,” always be upbeat and shiny and Instagram-worthy. It feels vulnerable to let it all hang out, to let our true self show (warts and all, shadows and all) and put our messy selves and messy homes out there for others to see and judge. The Sun invites you to risk “baring it all” for the sake of this cause. Invite someone over for Random Wednesday Dinner even though there are LEGOs or naked Barbies all over your house and tumbleweeds of dog hair collecting in the corners and you don’t have time to put on makeup and the only thing you’ll be serving is frozen pizza. Think of it as an act of kindness, because you are now giving them permission to invite you into their less-than-perfect lives next time.
So how do we start? By embodying the energy of the Ace of Cups (if that message sounds familiar, it’s because we just heard it a couple weeks ago). The Ace of Cups asks us to embrace vulnerability, to put ourselves out there, to open our hearts at the risk of getting hurt—because the benefits so outweigh the potential bruises. Ask for help. Ask for a hand. Ask the difficult question. Show up to the thing. Show up weird. Show up awkward. Show up with social anxiety. Remember: You’re not for everyone. And everyone’s not for you! Your open-hearted authenticity might turn some people away, but will eventually lead to drawing in the weird and wonderful people who are meant for you.
My therapist gave me a really great tool when talking about this very topic today—it’s called The Circle of Closeness. Maybe you’ll find it to be a useful exercise in identifying who’s in your innermost circle, who’s just outside that circle, and who you might invite to creep in just a little bit closer. Speaking for myself, I’ll probably never live in the Utopian Village of my dreams, but perhaps it’s possible to bring a few of those elements to my life. If only I’ll get out of my own way and allow others in.
How might you put your own perceived messiness aside and initiate a new beginning when it comes to community support this week?
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