The Rose of Venus
CHAPTER 137
The Rose of Venus
The story for the new moon time:
June 6 – Jun 20
MOON DETAILS
New Moon
16°18′ Gemini
Jun 6, 2024
8:37 AM EST
REFLECTION DATES
Mar. 25, 2017 – Oct. 26, 2018
Aug. 8 – 17, 2023
Sep. 17, 2023
10 MINUTE READ
The Metasequoia was first found fossilized, pressed between layers of sedimentary rock.
Its ancient remains revealed that once upon a time, the frozen arctic tundra was a warm, humid forest. Fifty million years ago, it was covered in trees, and every fall, the Metasequoia’s needles would turn to gold. They’d fall to the ground, coating the crown of the earth before slowly descending into the dirt and disappearing completely.
For decades, scientists believed these arctic giants were a thing of the past, but eighty years ago, they were discovered — still breathing through their needles — in the Hubei Province of China.
A living fossil! Scientists exclaimed before rubbing their eyes in disbelief.
They gathered seeds from the last surviving species of Metasequoia — the dawn redwood — and sent them to Europe and America. The tree soon spread through parks and arboretums, gaining the nickname “gold rush” because even though it no longer lived in a latitude of lightless winter, its needles still turned golden every autumn.
They grazed my skin one November as I walked in the woods. The gentle tickling caused me to turn my head, and there it was — a tree once believed to be extinct, thriving at the river’s edge.
At the time, I knew nothing of its history or its name. I only knew that it was glorious, inviting, seemed to chuckle through the mycorrhizal network as I collected a fallen sprig and ran its golden needles across my palm.
When I returned home, I pulled a maroon book from the shelf, cracked open its spine, and pressed the sprig inside.
Nineteen months passed, and I forgot all about the tree in the woods and the sprig in the book. Outside, the days were getting longer. Pink rose petals covered the garden dirt. A baby bunny nibbled at them every night, yet I was in a mood, frustrated by a society that seemed to be hurdling towards hopelessness.
I collapsed on the couch and pulled a blanket over my body. My eyes drifted to the shelves on the wall, and that’s when…the maroon book winked at me.
Its golden title flashed across its spine — Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson — and I wondered if I was imagining things. But the book seemed to be staring me down, calling me close, and so, at the book’s behest, I picked it up.
Knowing what I do about dear Emily, I fully expected to just read some poems and soothe my sorrow with hers, but instead, I saw a small gap where something was wedged between the pages.
I turned to the opening, not remembering what I’d slipped inside, and as my eyes met the dried sprig — its golden needles laid atop page 123 — my memory returned to me. I could see the rare redwood in Ohio and the horses on the bridle trail. I could taste the cider sipped from the thermos as I sat by the river, and I remembered opening to this page then.
The words felt important now, like a message.
The title “Two Worlds” stood strong between the needles, but the rest of the poem was covered by the sprig. Carefully, I lifted it so I could read:
Two Worlds
It makes no difference abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.
Wild-flowers kindle in the woods,
The brooks brag all the day;
No blackbird bates his jargoning
For passing Calvary.
Auto-da-fé and judgment
Are nothing to the bee;
His separation from his rose
To him seems misery.
— Emily Dickinson
I reread the last stanza:
“Auto-da-fé and judgment
Are nothing to the bee;
His separation from his rose
To him seems misery.”
And I knew she saw then what I was seeing now: people fighting, people forgetting, everyone buzzing around like bees who’ve lost the ability to see the rose’s ultraviolet iridescence.
It radiates silently, leading us away from misery and calling us towards that which we treasure most.
☆
All around the earth, an invisible rose is blooming, unfurling its petals in the sky.
The rose is wild, framed by five petals, and while we can’t see it with our eyes, we can trace it with our mind.
We’ve been doing just that, it’s believed, for millennia. Ever since someone somewhere looked to the morning sky — before the sun had yet to rise — and spotted a bright white star.
They observed it every morning for eight months, and then, one morning, it was nowhere to be found. And just like that — poof! — it was gone.
Months passed, and the star didn’t return. Then, one night, the same person looked up at the sky and saw a bright white star. They didn’t remember it being there the night before or the night before that, but now, here it was.
It looked identical to the star they’d seen every morning all those months ago, and they proceeded to watch this new star every night for another eight months, but then, the same thing happened again. It disappeared!
They waited — this time, for just a few days — before the star reappeared, bursting back in the morning sky where it had been when it was first seen.
They continued observing the star for months and years, noting that it moved from morning star to evening star — disappearing always for a time in between — every nineteen months. And while they ultimately believed they must be seeing the same star, they gave it two separate names: morgensteorra (morning star) and æfensteorra (evening star).
They mapped its movement carefully, and based on their calculations, they could see that the star was moving around the earth in such a way that it formed the shape of a five-petaled rose.
They told many stories about the star that moved from day to night. The star that moved in the shape of a rose.
It was associated with Inanna in Ancient Sumeria, Ishtar in Ancient Babylon, and Venus in Ancient Rome. And while while the star was connected to just one deity at a time and many cultures seemed quite aware of the fact that the two stars were actually one, it continued to be identified by two separate names until the 13th century when it was finally given the name we know it by today: Venus.
The star, you see, was actually a planet, and its regular disappearing act was because of its close proximity to the sun.
Today, the rose of Venus has continued to be observed by modern scientists, and while they see no inherent meaning in the pattern, they agree — the pattern is there:
This perpetual cycle of Venus is the result of its synodic period, which takes Venus from new to full to new every nineteen months.
During every synodic period, Venus forms a complete “petal,” and at the end of five periods, she has drawn a five-petaled rose in the sky, thus producing a new rose every eight years.
However, it’s not as simple as that.
The reality is that every time Venus is new, a new rose begins. This means that a new eight-year cycle begins…every nineteen months.
If this has you scratching your head, maybe this will help:
Venus was new in 2012. Eight years later, in 2020, Venus was new yet again while returning to the same place in the sky where she was in 2012. This 2020 return marked the end the eight-year cycle that started in 2012.
However, Venus was also new in 2014, and eight years later (in 2022), she again was new while returning to the same place where she was in 2014. So, the 2022 return marked the end of yet another eight-year cycle (the one that started in 2014).
And this happens again and again and again.
In other words, the rose of Venus is not a five-petaled rose that starts and stops — one after the next — every eight years. Rather, it is a shape that is constantly being created, forming an ever-unfolding perpetual rose around our planet Earth.
☆
On August 13, 2023, Venus was new again.
This new Venus marked the beginning of a single petal’s growth.
It was as though the petal had just appeared but had yet to fully open, and then, on June 4, 2024, the petal opened. Venus became full and revealed this particular petal in all its glory.
Enjoy the splendor of this bloom!
A new petal begins in March 2025, but until then, we are in the current petal’s period: August 13, 2023 to March 23, 2025.
This current petal is the fifth and final petal of a rose that started on March 25, 2017. And it is the first petal of a rose that will finish blooming in 2031.
Reflect on all that has been slowly growing in your life since August 2023. How are you experiencing a “blooming” of this now?
Also, how does this relate to what you experienced around March 25, 2017? Turn to the reflection dates at the top (on mobile) and to the side (on desktop) to help you see the rose that’s calling you and reveal your hidden treasure.
And if you want to reflect on all the petals of the rose, click here to get the dates.
☆
On June 6, 2024, a new moon is forming atop the fully bloomed Venus. It’s all happening in the sign of Gemini, aka the sign of duality and separation. Everything you experience now will keep growing and evolving through the full moon on June 21 and onwards to the Gemini full moon in December.
This is an exciting time of expansion and growth, which is echoed by the sun’s cycle, bringing us the solstice on June 20.
But like always, life is never as simple as just one cycle (Venus) or two cycles (the moon) or three (the sun). We are living in a symphony of cycles. Most remain a magical mystery, but others we can track and trace, including the movement of Jupiter, which is completing its transit through the Golden Gate on June 16 before moving across the Hyades.
It’s like a big bright light is pulsing at your heart, sending its light to the world!
And maybe, with this, the buzzing can stop. We can each find stillness for long enough to see the rose’s invisible light. It’s laid like a trail on a map, shining through our sorrow and helping us see something unexpected, something glorious, something new.
For life is not meant to be a battle but a perpetually unfolding gift. It’s full of treasures we’ve forgotten and others we’ve wrongly assumed were lost forever.
Stay curious about all that exists on this diverse, mysterious Earth.
And remember, whether she’s rising in the morning or the evening, Venus is Venus all the same.
☆
To be continued…
LONG STORY SHORT
This new moon time — June 6 to 20 — brings a bounty! A powerful series of cycles are culminating to change your perspective, open your heart, and help you receive unexpected gifts. Remember: things are often not what they appear to be, so stay open to how this presents itself. Stay open to the possibility that this is exactly what is happening for you even when it feels like it’s not. Don’t let your misery (or other people’s misery) get you down. Stay close to the rose. Enjoy its sweet scent. Summer is in the air! And whatever has you worried will soon fade into the tapestry of time like all other things. Note: Pay special attention around June 16.
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