Each and every ‘story’ that you relate to self or others is a ‘fiction’ in the sense that it is your interpretation of your experience of an external event or series of events.
According to the American psychologist, James Hillman (author of Healing Fiction), coming to grips with this process of fiction-making is healing. Not only does it promote self-acceptance but also self-understanding. This in turn gives you the opportunity to assert conscious control over your actions and decisions.
Astrologically, your Moon is the key to this process.
In the Neoplatonist cosmos, the Moon stands at the gateway of your psyche and the material world. As the result, your astrological Moon not only mediates between experiences and the meaning that you give them, but it also provides a wealth of information about the symbols and metaphors that inform your inner world.
For example, my Moon is in Gemini.
My stories – or ‘fictions’ – must be light and lively. It’s only to be expected that I will embellish and embroider the facts. If there are dark and/or scary bits, I’ll ignore them. It’s pretty much a given that to the extent difficult emotions are involved, instinctively I’ll run the other way.
- However, if my Moon were in Scorpio, the scary bits and difficult emotions would be just my cup of tea; they could probably dominate my every story.
- If my Moon were in Capricorn, my story could take on a paternalistic, moralising tone.
- With Moon in Pisces, my story would centre on my (confused) emotional response.
- But with Moon in Leo my story would centre on whatever flatters me most.
It’s not just your Moon’s zodiac sign that effects your fiction-making but also its house placement. My Moon is in the 12th house, where is symbolised (amongst other things), my instinct for self-sabotage. Little wonder when I sense rejection or criticism, I instinctively clam up and slip away even when, rationally, such action is not in my best interest. By contrast, if my Moon were in the 1st house, I would be so self-focused that I probably wouldn’t care if you were listening or not; my overwhelming need would be to dominate every situation.
Finally, the aspects your Moon makes to other planets in your chart necessarily also colours your perception:
- For example, I have Moon square ( in hard aspect) to Mars. My fiction-making is often peppered with phrases belying anger and frustration.
- But if my Moon were in an easy aspect (trine or sextile) with Jupiter, my story would be warmly optimistic; my default perception might be that all is ‘right with the world’.
- By contrast, if my Moon were in a difficult aspect (square or opposition) to Jupiter, my story would likely be wildly unrealistic; my default perception would be something along the lines of ‘when it comes to luck, why do I always draw the short straw?’
By paying close attention to my own stories, I become more aware of how instinctively I’m most likely to experience any event.
Say, for example, that I have an argument with my husband. With my Gemini Moon, my tendency is to avoid difficult emotions. With his Scorpio Moon, my husband interprets this as ignoring his feelings (Moon), which (Scorpio) are very important to him. He likely expresses criticism because his Moon is square – hard aspect – to his Mercury, or mode of communication. I clam up and slip away. With his Moon in his 5th house (house of recreation and sport), my husband might even take pleasure in this result. This leaves me to fuss and fume (anger/frustration) in private (seclusion is a 12th house thing) building up layers of resentment, which won’t make our next argument go any easier.
Yet when I can accept that regardless of how I’d like to perceive the event, difficult emotions are integral and inevitable in any argument, I can acknowledge my husband’s response, allowing him to feel that he’s been heard. With practice, this will new approach should short-circuit the rest of what was once an inevitable outcome and instead of fussing and fuming, I can take pride in my accomplishments.