The horns of the bull are shaped like crescent moons; one waxing, the other waning. Taurus, while represented by a bull – the male cow – is a feminine, sensual queen, who is fertile and nourishing, oriented toward life’s pleasures, inviting us to lean into what feels good, and become the carriers of beauty and deliciousness. Can we infuse these challenging times with this enchanting archetype of ecstatic embodiment? The full moon in Taurus wants us to consider her as one of our guides.

She is earthy, soulful in the most somatic of ways. And she is moon like and pulsing with luster and mystery, fullness and release, ebbs and flows. Taurus opens up the doorways of the body into the cosmic – not to take us to the beyond, but to lead us into the recognition that our physical form is a constellation of galactic magic. 

When Taurus comes to us in the fullness of the moon, it dances with the sun in Scorpio. The blossoming of the bull mingles with the spell of the scorpion tail, and this art piece of compost and creation unfolds. 

Taurus is a sign that spends time with the sun during the peak of Spring (from a northern hemisphere perspective), when the fragrance of flowers intoxicates creatures, inspiring them to mate. Taurus is life wanting to be made, wanting to be lived, wanting to exist, wanting to enjoy. 

Scorpio season is at the peak of Fall (northern hemisphere), when the soil is hungry for decay, and an intense desire for flesh comes from the depth of the inner caves of a primal presence. Scorpio knows the ferocity of death, and she doesn’t shy away from its darkness. Instead, she plunges right into the pool of the unseen, and grabs liminality by its horns, to ride it like a bull. 

Scorpio and Taurus together invite us to love, to lust, to lament, to live, to linger in that tight space between pleasure and pain, to remember that both birth and death will come again, to rise and open, to hiss and kiss and soften, to build up and to release, to work with every piece of our existence, to grow and give and lose and grieve, to lose and choose to try again, to choose again, to die, again. to live again, and to breathe in the continuum of the body becoming other bodies. 

The moon is full and it pours its milky light into the darkness of the night and invites us to lick the wounds of the season, to learn the lessons, to see that we are part of the reason things go the way they do, but that it’s not all up to you. This gorgeous lunar peaking hour asks us to look at the shadows cast by our most cherished radiance. Where we think there is honey there are also bees. Where there’s sweetness there’s a sting. 

Bees and bulls were tightly linked in ancient times. They were mythically married as both were worshiped as creatures of death and rebirth. All over the mediterranean and the Middle East, bulls were worshiped as gods, and bees blessed the dead with the promise of eternality. 

From Crete, where Dionysus was seen as a bull, and the goddess of bees, Melissa, and her priestesses, the Melissas, buzzed around using mead nature made in deep caves from rain waters and fermenting honey, to Ancient Egyptian goddess Nut who was the cow of the night sky, the milky way, who swallowed Ra, the sun, each evening, and births him again the next morning. Nut was sometimes depicted as a woman arched over the earth (god Geb), often as a cow, and sometimes as a bee. Bees were sacred to ancient Egyptians, and the use of honey was common in burial rituals, and in preservation of the bodies of the dead. 

In the deep caves of the darkest of times, we might be able to find some honey. Difficult times are the wombs of flourishing. Dark ages that feel like the death of all hope carry in them the spark of new life, the honey drop of possibility. 

We might need to become a hive. We will need to come together and work hard, to gather nectar from a wide range of flowers, as we collaborate with other species, and help plants spread their pollen. We need to learn to be reciprocal. We might need to have our own experience, our own taste of this blossom, our own adventure in the other field, but we will also need to come back to the hive and figure some things out together. We will each need to offer our share of the nectar to the collective. Because only together can we make honey. 

Your share is needed. Your wisdom is valued. Your perspective matters. Your story brings meaning to the whole. We need you right now! So make sure you get enough nectar. And make sure to spread pollen. Take care of yourself. Take care of the hive. We are in this together. 

Check out this video for more Full Moon in Taurus exploration.

Read this essay to explore the symbolic, mythic power of the cow in ancient cultures.

Much love,

Hagar