The Moon is waxing in Cancer, and will reach its full illumination at 6:19 AM EDT. A Full Moon in Cancer is not quiet—it is soft, but not silent. It reverberates through the emotional body like a tide striking the bones. Cancer rules the home, the root, the remembered self. When the Moon comes home to itself, as it does in Cancer, the boundaries between past and present blur, and the body remembers things you didn’t know you forgot. What rises today may not be urgent—but it is true. Pay attention to what tugs at your inner shoreline.
The day's significant planetary pressure is Mars in Pisces square Jupiter in Gemini, exact just after midnight. Mars in Pisces is not a blade—it’s a wave. But in square to Jupiter, the wave can swell too fast, too large, too chaotically. Actions taken under this sky may have exaggerated effects, and words (Gemini) can scatter sparks farther than you meant them to go. There's a temptation to dramatize or overreach. Be wary of emotional inflation. Stillness may be wiser than strategy.
The tarot card drawn is The Queen of Swords, upright. Cool, composed, and deeply attuned. She does not suppress emotion—she contains it, names it, disciplines it with clarity. In a day overflowing with lunar sensitivity, she arrives as a counterbalance. Her sword isn’t raised in defense, but in discernment. She filters the real from the reactive. Today, she asks you not to speak until you know which voice is yours—not the frightened child, not the performative protector, but the you who knows the cost of speaking truly and does it anyway.
Numerologically, 04/11/2025 resolves to 6 (4 + 1 + 1 + 2 + 0 + 2 + 5 = 15 → 1 + 5 = 6). Six is the archetype of care—the emotional architecture of responsibility. It’s the number of lovers, of households, of moral weight. Under a Cancer Moon, it deepens into the spiritual question: What do you feel responsible for, and who taught you to feel that way? Not all burdens are yours. But the ones that are, carry meaning if you hold them consciously.
Today’s lectionary verse, from the Revised Common Lectionary (Year B), is from the Gospel of John:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” — John 14:1
On a day full of emotional current, this line steadies like a hand to the chest. It doesn't deny the turbulence—it speaks through it. The heart is acknowledged in its trouble, not shamed. This is not doctrine; it is direction. A call to trust something larger than fear, even while fear is still present. Not every belief is certainty. Some are just ways to stay afloat.
A dream, caught between rising tides:
You stand at the edge of a salt marsh at dawn. The sky is white-gold, but the water is black. In your arms, you carry a mirror, though it reflects nothing. Something beneath the surface watches you. You lower the mirror into the tide. The water doesn’t ripple, but your reflection finally appears. It is older than you. And smiling.
The elemental balance today is Water and Air—Moon and Queen, tide and sword. It is not a balance of peace, but of pressure. One rises. One clarifies. Together, they create the possibility of coherence.
The story that wants to be lived today is one where feeling does not overwhelm truth—and truth does not forsake tenderness. If you speak, speak with care. If you retreat, do so with purpose. And whatever rises from within, let it be honored, even if not yet understood.
