I started a new job where there are three other Sarahs. And so my middle name, Donghee, is printed on every ticket (I work in a restaurant) in order to decipher between all of us. I said to the other Sarah, I’m not used to seeing my middle name so much.
I never tell people my middle name. I don’t like hearing how other people pronounce it. They make it sound like donkey, which I find embarassing.
But, I realized, fully, finally, how I am dimming myself by hiding my name. I realized how I am no different than the people I think I am protecting myself from— I’m judging my own self for them. I’m manifesting my own fear. I’m cueing people to think my name is weird by being weird about how I share it.
I’m hiding myself because of what other people may or may not do. I can’t control them—but that’s what I’m trying to do, rather than taking responsibility for my self-respect. Hiding not to protect but creating the denial of self—I am not giving myself permission to be my whole self. This is wearing the skin of shame.
This lack of permission could pathologize itself. But what is useful is the awareness of this cycle and the other ways I do this— and then my ability to honor myself. To self-validate, to stop seeking the approval of others, to stop seeing external forces as the barometer of whether or not I am acceptable, worthy of belonging, or simply ok to exist.
It could seem that by not telling people my middle name, I’m protecting myself from harm. But—it’s irresponsible. I’m not taking accountability for knowing who I am, for having boundaries and for self-acceptance. I am avoiding confrontation even if that means allowing disrespect. I can’t control how people will say my name, but I can command how they treat me.
I’m not trusting myself to defend myself and risk the discomfort of someone else over my own. My fears play out like this: What if I stutter when speaking up for myself or what if a knot of emotion blocks my throat? What if I’m abandoned? What if I’m rejected? These fears lessen when I choose myself.
But not giving people an opportunity to prounounce my middle name at all is burning the bridge before anyone steps up to it. It’s self sabotage. I’m telling my inner child, I’m not strong enough to defend her. I’m telling her, she doesn’t belong. I’m also telling her, she in fact does have an embarrassing name. I’m saying, to my inner child, where you belong is in the shadows.
And this brings us to eclipse season—where we are talking about shadows and the imperfect circular orbit of the moon and earth. We are midway in the journey of this two year cycle of eclipses that are happening on the Aries/Libra axis. Aries of course initiated it with a New Moon on April 20th, 2023—and our novella will resolve March, 2025, also in Aries.
Solar eclipse: moon creates a shadow on the earth Lunar eclipse: moon is in earth's shadow
The nodes in a natal chart account for eclipses. These are points in the sky—the location of the moon’s zenith from earth—which means of course that the orbit of the moon is not a perfect circle. Not only that, the earth tilts—so the moon and earth are not on the same plane and this is why every full moon we can see its full face illuminated by the Sun, except for twice a year when we have eclipses, which is when the moon reaches its zenith.
We can view this as an access point that is especially qualified for letting go because although it is not a perfect orbit—it is the point that separates it from being one. Perhaps, we can see this as the entry for beginnings and endings, which is what eclipses correspond to in astrology.
The North Node is considered the head of a dragon in astrology—and the south node its tail. It’s giving ouroboros—and I believe this is the Worm Moon. Circles have no real start and end—and yet, they must. Which is very Libra as well—the idea that two opposite things can exist, and both at once. But it is our spirit that never ends—and so eclipses are heavy in this sense. They emphasize what our soul came here to do. We can reap much by paying attention to this week. If you journal, I would take notes, we will come back to this.
Libra’s glyph is the horizon—not the scales—although both symbols are associated with it. But as the horizon it is a reminder that what is now will change. The present moment is only the top layer of a much deeper story. Chapters comprise a novel. An eclipse season is only a fraction of the whole.
As the scales, there is an element of karma with this full moon, as Libra represents justice and law. Not just governmental but universal, spiritual, and energetic balance. We may be revisited by the consequences of some painful choices. But these are all opportunities to show ourselves compassion—and again to remind ourselves we make mistakes, we aren’t a mistake.
This Libra Full Moon is a time to let go of our co-dependent habits that inhibit our ability to show up authentically as ourself. Let go of the habits and the cycles that have us seeking external validation. Stop dimming your light. Stop not being your full self because you think it might make someone else uncomfortable. Stop being uncomfortable when that’s not your responsiblity. Stop personalizing what isn’t yours.
But also stop spiritually delegating what is yours. Sometimes shadow work shows up without us going into our depths—Libra is our skin, the surface level. Our shadows with this Libra Full Moon, land as what we project onto others. The people we relate to become the screen for our own insecurities, judgements, behaviors—in essence we might confuse our own shadows by displacing them onto someone else.
The discernment is what do I need to take responsibility for and what is mine. Pay attention to all your exchanges whether between your significant other or insignificant others: the cashier, the coworker, the troll on the internet. These are all screens to see yourself clearly.
Libra is the other sign ruled by Venus—and she is the planet ruling this sky illumination. Where Taurus represents Venusian qualities of relationship, love and beauty in a material plane, Libra as an air sign, represents the immaterial qualities.
The other sky aid is happening in Aries—the sign of our survival, our root chakra, our primal needs. The Sun, Chiron, and Mercury are in this sign, opposing the full moon.
Chiron in Aries is the wounded healer of and teacher of identity and origin. Chiron carries a story that lives through us, with us, for us— it is a story that has no ending. Park Donghee is my birth name. [I am adopted] It represents where I come from, who I came from, a whole line of ancestors that are separated from me—it represents my primal wound.
My biological parents loved me so much that they gave me away translates to love is abandonment. Which to a three-year-old little girl in survival mode, (my Venus and Mercury are in Aries) translates to self-love is self-abandonment. Which is exactly what I have done—I was a good little girl.
Chiron’s story in our chart doesn’t have a resolution—only its evolution. The presence of its scar is always teaching us more. Chiron’s wound never healed—he just learned to live with it. His evolution of it was to source his own pain as part of his wisdom to share. And, like Chiron, I am always healing—and sharing with others so that it may inspire their own.
Mercury is already slowing down—and will appear to be going backwards in the sky on April 1st. This is an amazing time to reflect and to rewrite and to recommunicate with ourselves about how we want to express being fully in love with who we are.
Rest and reflect and sending lots of love,
Sarah Donghee <3 / The Poet Witch
LET’S CONNECT!
The New Moon in Aries and Solar Eclipse occurs on April 8th. Join me us in New Moon Club on the Sunday before—April 7th at 5 PM EST. The theme we will explore in tandem with the energy of the New Moon in Aries is rock bottom. The gathering will include Reiki + Writing and guided breathwork with special guest
.POETRY WORKSHOP
STOP DATING LESSONS!!! Stop returning to toxic relationships. Find clarity in what returns and break the cycle of repetition. Poetic form is strategic. It engages our analytical mind while we write about what hurts. So we won’t break down when we write about our breakups. We will just reap the lesson. And clear the path so we can move forward and meet what is in higher alignment for our love life.
Time is still to be determined: but send an email to sarahheffner@gmail.com if you’re interested in attending!
40$ for non-members 20$ for paid subscribers
NATAL CHARTS
These are mirrors. These are maps. These are music sheets. See yourself. Find yourself. Book a session and learn how to play the notes of your natal chart.
Hi Sarah,
These two lines
I’m cueing people to think my name is weird by being weird about how I share it.
but that’s what I’m trying to do, rather than taking responsibility for my self-respect.
Responsibility is a word that's thrown around and it's so easy just to have an understanding of what it means. But there's all these subways that it plays out in existence that you don't stop and think of as – responsibility
“This Libra Full Moon is a time to let go of our co-dependent habits that inhibit our ability to show up authentically as ourself. Let go of the habits and the cycles that have us seeking external validation. Stop dimming your light. Stop not being your full self because you think it might make someone else uncomfortable. Stop being uncomfortable when that’s not your responsiblity. Stop personalizing what isn’t yours.” This part is hitting home as Im currently in a situation where I chose my co-dependent desire over my authentic needs. The yearning for independence grows stronger every time I practice discernment though. Such a journey. Thank you!