One of the best ways to understand the stars of this season, or any season, is to consider the human souls passing in and out of life at this time of year. It may seem odd to think of passing out of life in the Spring, when the northern hemisphere is heavy with blossoms and the Moon is waxing toward Full Phase for the second time in a month ~ but there it will be, Full Moon on Monday next week, May 31st, just below the star Antares, the Star of the West at the heart of the Scorpion, long considered the gate of death. But rather than a gesture of morbidity, this Moon asks us to find our star, the star that shone over our birth, and that will receive us back into the celestial spiritual world at death, when we have completed our intended tasks, journeying with the Earth that is itself on its way to realizing itself as a star.
From Plato to Calvin and Hobbes, the idea that we have an intimate relationship with the stars that is more than just shared mineral substance brings essential inspiration into human life.
This week I want to consider three historic figures who returned to the stars in May: the great American poet Emily Dickinson, the wicked violinist Nicolo Paganini, and the Maid of Orleans Joan of Arc, whose courage in responding to the divine that spoke to her from beyond the physical realm is the grand stuff of world history. Emily Dickinson died May 15 in 1886; Nicolo Paganini died May 27, 1840; and Joan of Arc met her death in flames on May 30 in 1431. Poetry, music, peace ~ the attributes of each one of these figures are easily associated with the Muses of ancient Greek culture, which also lends itself to what we’re seeing in the sky right now.
The Muses were the daughters of Mnemosyne, the Titan Goddess of Memory, through which the Greek sages instilled in humanity the thought that through it all, we must never forget the sublime role of artistic inspiration in sustaining and restoring harmony in the world.
The God of prophecy, of music, and of this artistic inspiration is Apollo. His instrument is the lyre, which he received from Hermes, after the trickster god stole his cattle. Hermes, known to the Romans as Mercury, was the son of Maia, the eldest and most beautiful sister of the Pleiades. Mercury can be seen moving near the stars of Pleiades in the evening sky right now. Further on, Apollo gifted the lyre to his son Orpheus, who then used it to gain entrance to the underworld.
What we see here can be imagined as the gradual descent of the human being, from the star, Apollo, the Sun God; through the planetary spheres with Mercury; to the Earth, with Orpheus. The Greeks crafted these myths out of the mystery wisdom that was taught in the pre-Christian era, before the incarnation of the Christ, so though they anticipated the descent of this being, they had no tales of the resurrection from the realm of shades that would then come for a later humanity. As this later humanity, how we return to our star is our part of the story.
When we look in the sky right now, the constellation Lyra is rising in the northeast, heralded by the bright star Vega, on the “hero’s side” of the Milky Way. Lyra is associated with the lyre of Orpheus, placed in the sky by the Muses, after Orpheus’ death. It is the stars of this constellation that shined over the deaths of Emily Dickinson, Nicolo Paganini, Joan of Arc.
In pondering the stars this week, these three can inspire us to consider this mystery of relationship to our star, how we go back, and what will we have to offer? It’s the blossoming season and the Blue Moon is calling our attention to Antares, gateway to the world from which we descended, and to which we will return.
Like Joan of Arc, who, after a wild recantation regarding hearing the voices of the divine, stayed true to her greater sense of destiny after all when she proclaimed: I am not afraid. It was for this I was born.
Nicolo Paganini was so talented people believed he had a pact with the devil, and it is to this the strange 50-year journey of his corpse is attributed. He died at age 57 in 1840, but because he had not received the last rites of the Church beforehand, he only came to his final resting place later, in 1896.
And then Emily Dickinson, who famously wrote:
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
Poetry, music, peace work, in this season, in these human lives, in the stories of the stars, inspiring us all in a rare and wonderful way, especially as we move toward Blue Moon at the Western Sunset Gate of the Stars.
~Mary
Hear this episode of The Storyteller’s Night Sky on podcast here, and wherever you listen. You may also find over a decade of these recordings on this website (thanks to an old college friend that encouraged me to post them!).