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Today is the New Moon in Pisces, the final sign of the zodiac, where we are dissolved, finally, in deep, starry waters. We are closing out the zodiacal year in the sign of the deep ocean, the sign of imagination, dreams, fantasies, secrets, a lacuna of magick and myth and desire as personal as our blood type. With the Sun, Moon, and Pisces' ruling planet Neptune all swimming in Pisces' mystic ocean, it is easy to get pulled under, into the tide of our emotions, our dreams, our longings. We float into the swells, buoyed up or engulfed by waves. It's easy to feel lost, without a compass or map.

The first of March is always a day of evaluating how close we are to Spring. The adage about lions and lambs comes into play, but because February has been so warm in my part of the world (record setting!), March First celebrates a number of untimely firsts.

I've already seen the first flower. It's a tiny little purple thing, smaller than a pea, that only grows on the dark, damp Eastern side of the house. This flower, which I have not been able to identify, is always the first flower on my land, often the first flower of any kind that I see in late Winter. Sometimes I find it while there is still snow on front lawn. Sometimes, I find it on a surprisingly warm and bright Winter day, like I did last week, when I'm out working in the yard. In either case, I usually don't find it til later on, this is the earliest I have seen this flower blossom.

We had a bit of a warm snap last week, and all the snow on the lawn melted. Then the frozen ground began to thaw. It was certainly a lovely break, going out in just shirtsleeves, in the middle of Winter. It went on long enough that things have started to bloom—some dandelions on sunny hillsides, a tiny little purple weed in a sheltered bed. And despite knowing that winter was most emphatically NOT done, and that snow was around the corner (it is in fact fall right now as I write this), I took several deep breaths and sat in the sunlight, and smelled new scents in the air.

I could smell pollen and rain, mostly blown in by a strong wind from the southwest. I could also smell the bitter-til-its-sweet scent of hard dirt yielding to water. It was as if the ground was heaving a sigh of relief as it stretched and relaxed. The scent of mud was all around me on my hike, as I squelched down the muddy path to a creek swollen fat and high with melted snow.

I was driving to an Imbolc circle this weekend, through frozen drizzle. Imbolc, the Celtic fire festival, falls halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. As such, the day was perfect for celebrating it. It was very cold, and there was a stiff, icy wind out of the northeast, as the leading edge of a huge snow storm was just blowing in. The force of Winter, its power, was on full display in the roiling ocean of clouds above my head, socking us in a dense, icy fog. The mountains are obscured, the horizon is lost, and color has faded from everything. The landscape is white, the bare trees are jet black, the clouds above every shade of gray—granite, ink, mist, oyster, pewter, pearl. This is deep Winter, Winter at its starkest.

And yet—there would be a break in the wind, and the air felt soft. There was a break in the clouds and a tiny shred of pale blue sky peaked out, Springlike and bright. The gap would close, and the wind would start up again, and that brief glimpse into the coming Spring would disappear.

This is the guided meditation I always do on the first full moon of the year:

Close your eyes, sink into your body, breathe.

The Sun's transit through fiery, jovial Sagittarius occurs as we are preparing to celebrate the Winter Solstice. Ruled by Jupiter, the Great Benefic, Sagittarius embodies the Jovian qualities of generosity and festivity that are so present during the holidays. We spend too much, eat too much, go out and party too much. It is a time of festivity and merry-making, and all of us are encouraged to join in, sometimes even pressured or ridiculed for not getting into the spirit.

At the Winter Solstice, the Sun moves into Capricorn. Ruled by Saturn, Capricorn is the contraction that happens after the rapid expansion of Sagittarius Once the merry-making of the holiday season winds down, after the elation of the Solstice and New Years, Capricorn can feel like a return to grim reality. During Sagittarius we charge things up on the credit card, we overindulge in food and drinks. During Capricorn, the bills come due, we might have to tighten our belts to accommodate the holiday's excess, we start diets to get rid of the weight we gained.

Christmas has its own unique magick, and this year the light of the Full Moon shines upon Christmas Day. This unusual synchronicity brings forward the many sacred qualities of this season.

The Sun entered the sign of Capricorn on the Winter Solstice. Ruled by Saturn, Capricorn embodies the qualities of discipline, structure, and reason. Protective, cautious, resourceful and prudent, Capricorn represents the Father of the Zodiac. Capricorn sits opposite Cancer, ruled by the Moon, represents the divine feminine's magickal qualities of nurturance, dreams and psychic mastery. The Full Moon in Cancer shines down the Great Mother's divine love, ever-renewing and unconditional, at a moment when much of the world is trying to hold a vision of peace, compassion and generosity that is at the heart of Christmas.