The Queen of Fire
CHAPTER 141
The Queen of Fire
The story for the new moon time:
Aug 4 – Aug 18
MOON DETAILS
New Moon
12°34′ Leo
Aug 4, 2024
7:13 AM EST
REFLECTION DATES
Jan 20 – Feb 11, 2019
Jan 25 – Feb 8, 2024
9 MINUTE READ
It’s winter in Australia. You consider this fact while walking through the snowy woods.
You see the earth in your mind — a spinning sphere in the void of space. Summer heat baking half the globe; winter cold covering the other. It’s like half the earth is burning. The other half is frozen. A land of fire and ice.
While contemplating the earth’s dual existence, you realize that on our planet, it’s never just one season at a time. The earth’s 23.5 degree tilt towards the sun makes sure of that.
You continue seeing it in your mind — half fire and ice — and then, you imagine what will happen when the seasons change, and with them, the earth. You see it now — half leaves and flowers. And then: ice and fire, flowers and leaves. Again and again. The seasons flash across your mind as your boots mark the snow with their curious tread, leaving a path of swirls and stars.
You press the starry night into the snow with every step while your breath forms icy clouds in the air. You pull your jacket tight, realizing that perhaps the cold is getting the best of you and it’s time to take a break.
The black crow that’s been traveling with you — occasionally perched upon your shoulder but other times flying ahead, leading you through the forest —takes off again. This time, it lands on the trunk of a fallen tree and cries for you to join.
You walk slowly towards the bird, so slowly you worry it might be losing patience with you. But in reality, your crow companion is perfectly happy sitting there, pecking at the bark and pulling small insects from their hiding place beneath the snow.
Food, that sounds good right about now. Food, warmth, shelter — all of these would be welcome as you brush the snow from the trunk and take a seat.
What were you thinking? Wandering into an unknown forest at night with no knowledge of how or when you’d find the resources to survive?
You shake your head, thinking yourself an overly optimistic fool, before settling on the best course of action: Fire, I should make a fire. But do you even know how to make a fire? Something about tinder and kindling. Enough friction to spark a flame.
The bird hops down off the tree, pulls a twig from the forest floor, and places it at your feet. You follow its lead, collecting what you can and uncovering a small grey stone with white specks reflecting the moonlight. You think maybe this will work when you hear the crow opening your leather satchel with its beak. You look inside and see an assortment of objects you missed back at the cottage.
You’d been so focused, filling the satchel’s thermos with water, that you missed its other compartments. Now you see: a black pocket knife, a lighter plated with hammered gold, a small box of band aids, and a KIND bar. You unwrap the bar, take a bite, and breathe a sigh of relief at the momentary sustenance before turning your attention back to the fire.
Without a clock, you’re not exactly sure how long it takes, but after countless failed attempts, you are finally able to keep a small flame burning. It flickers between the logs and stones you carefully laid to keep the snow from extinguishing the fire. It grows and grows, burning steady now. You stop nursing it and rest upon the fallen tree.
There, you sit, watching the flames dance around the logs. They seem to be moving in a circle, and as you watch them burn, you swear they’re forming shapes. They look like tiny people, dancing and playing instruments — pan flutes, lutes, and lyres — and as the rowdy ring of dancers spins in circles, you become hypnotized by the flames. Your eyes flutter shut, and you are transported to the world within the fire.
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You land hard on your back on a black stone floor. Your fingers grip the surface as you push yourself up to sit. Your eyes adjust to the light, coming from the ring of fire encircling the dark space. The heat from the flames makes all the molecules in the air move faster, makes the legs of the people dancing look blurry and surreal.
A hand reaches for yours and you accept.
The stranger helps you lift yourself to your feet where you now stand, rubbing your eyes, hoping to bring the hot room into focus.
After a few blinks, you see that you are standing before a golden dais. Three steps lead to an elevated platform that’s framed by four golden torches, each holding a large blue flame.
At the center, a woman sits upon a throne. It’s carved from a dark rough stone, its various fractures and fissures filled with gold that long ago flowed like blood through veins, but now, it’s as hard as the rock on which the woman sits. Molten metal circles her head, forging a crown that changes shape every few minutes, and she — she is mottled with teeny, tiny burning embers that glow like golden glitter across her skin.
She wraps her fingers around a chalice and takes a sip. When she’s finished, she hands it to the person to her right and wipes a viscous, glowing substance from her lips. Then, she raises her arms in the air, looks up at the pitch black void, and says, Welcome!
She seems…you try to find the word to describe it…annoyed? Perplexed? Bored?
Her arms come crashing down in a thankless thud as she sighs and slouches against the throne. She casually flops one leg across the other — the slit in her gown revealing that her skin is just as golden and glittering there — and then, she props her elbow on the throne’s arm, allows her cheek to fall into the palm of her hand.
Bored. Definitely bored.
How can I help you? She asks while examining the flecks of gold beneath her fingernails.
Help? I…
The woman swirls her hand in the air, commanding you to pick up the pace.
I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not looking for any help.
With this, the woman quickly uncrosses her legs and sits up straight. She stares you in the eyes, and that’s when you see that her irises are filled with burning flames.
Entranced, you can’t help but ask the question that then tumbles out your mouth — Who are you?
Who am I? The woman laughs. I am the Queen of Fire. Who are — the queen looks you up and down disappointedly — you?
You open your mouth to answer but nothing comes out.
Fine, I will tell you. The queen slouches back in her seat, bored yet again as she speaks:
You are of flesh and bone. You were forged in the heat of my flame before my fire spit you out and landed you in the dirt of the earth. Still, I live inside you. A festive radiance heating the very particles of your being, inspiring the chemical reactions in your cells, filling you with life so you may…say nothing? Do nothing? Tell me, what is it you are doing with your life?
I…I…
You…you? Stuttering before me. Always wanting me to answer. I’ll tell you what. I will give you the answer. The answer of what you are doing with your life — or rather, what you should be doing — but I need you to do something for me first. Agreed?
You hesitate to agree to anything without knowing what it is, but something about her request makes you nod yes — anything to get out of here.
The Queen of Fire stands up from her throne. She steps down from the dais, flames flickering at the train of her dress as her molten crown forms the shape of a waxing crescent moon above her head. She curls her glittering golden hand around your ear, leans in, and whispers her instructions.
You gasp for air as you open your eyes and reach for your ear. Just a moment ago, it felt like it was burning but now, it’s cool to the touch. You are back in the forest. The fire before you has burned out completely and the crow is adding a berry to a pile at your feet. The sun is rising above the trees, and the snow has started to melt. You take a sip of water from your thermos and eat a handful of berries.
As you chew, the queen’s instructions stream through your mind, repeating themselves so you won’t forget:
There’s a new moon on August 4. On this day or one of the five that follows, you must plant an acorn in the earth and sing the earth a song, and when you do, your path will be revealed to you.
☆
To be continued…
The Story in the Stars:
1) The Leo new moon conjuncts Melpomene (aka the muse of tragedy whose name means “to sing”) — also nearly conjunct Vesta (aka the sacred flame) while opposing Pele (goddess of fire) and Iris (the messenger) in Aquarius.
3) Mercury conjuncts the asteroid Serpe and the planet Venus in Virgo. Mercury goes retrograde on Aug 5, leading to a major reveal. Reading: The Birth of a Snake.
2) Mars conjuncts Leukothea (one who brings sacred light), Hephaestus (god of metallurgy), Aglaea (“festive radiance”), and Jupiter…all by the perfect conjunction of the asteroids Queen and Proserpina (aka Queen of the Underworld).
4) Pythia and Chiron are conjunct in Aries, inspiring an oracular healing of your destiny.
Key Takeaway
The Leo new moon time from August 4 to 18 sets the stage for what’s to come later this month and even later, in early 2025. Clarity strikes as you make space to slow down and feel the earth beneath your feet. Praise it with your touch. Speak to it with your voice. Let the earth of your body connect with the earth all around you. Feel the fire of life inside. Don’t be afraid — trust it to carry you forward. Great clarity is available when you choose to slow down and tend to the sacred flame within. Listen, listen. Let it burn.
Turn to the reflection dates above to see which of your past experiences are most influencing what happens now.
*Note for new readers: For all reflection dates, look at the exact date(s) and then also a few days before and after. Sometimes something significant falls just outside. I recommend turning to your calendar, camera roll, journal, IG feed, etc. to help you remember what you were experiencing. Whatever jumps out at you as important probably is. Stay tuned! You just may be surprised by how it becomes relevant.
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