June Energy Forecast: The Transition We’ve Been Waiting For
This month’s spread is designed to inspire and illuminate all levels of our being as we enter a ground-shifting transition.
Gautama Buddha sits beneath the Bodhi tree having made a vow to remain until he reaches enlightenment. The bywords for this posture in the Transition position are implacability and impeccability. The demon Mara sends seductresses and warriors to put the Buddha-to-be off his path, but he cannot be tempted or frightened.
Here we are talking about the temptations that have assailed us in recent times, leading to this very transition. One of those temptations may have been to personalize any tension or conflict; to mistake the interior attachments and aversions for an exterior source. Nothing happens by chance. Those demons had to be faced and exposed, loosening the grip of maya or illusion. These were the necessary preconditions for this transition.
The symbolism suggests recent times may have been eventful, heavy even — a full immersion — but the real freight we were carrying was subservience to the lesser gods of memory, culture, and society. The Buddha broke the mould and launched a new era. So too is this transition about breaking — but not breaking free, for that only legitimizes the old world. Rather, breaking the shell of our old existence so there is no place left but the new world.
The Bodhi tree represents the axis mundi — the world pillar that connects Heaven and Earth. Our implacability and impeccability have been rigorously tested and cultivated, so we can remain aligned. Now we can walk forward into the unknown without a clinging need to know. What follows is sure to be enlightening.
In a dualistic worldview, Hope is inextricably tied to disappointment. Victories are transitory only. There is another kind of hope, however: a naked openness to life without any objective. It is from this place of transcendent Hope that we can, as Kipling wrote, “treat triumph and disaster as the same two imposters.”
In the Influences position, this means we have suffered hope and defeat, hope and victory, triumph and disaster…and we are tired of the whole game of maya. We are ready for something that is real. We don’t need to put down our defenses or grievances against life as much as release ourselves from the imprisoning enclosure of hope itself.
Even if we are tired, the exhaustion is an illusion, too. It has all been building to this moment and this transition. How can it be any other way? Hope in this position is about rebirth and a new experience of surrender — surrender as stable state of being. After the weird and wild month of May, it all starts to make a little more sense.
There’s an old story about the street smarts of Hummingbird. After being challenged to a race to the sun, Hummingbird hoodwinks proud Eagle by hitchhiking a ride in one of its feathery folds. As great Eagle tires as he nears the sun, seemingly fragile Hummingbird races out from its hiding place and steals the victory.
As leverage, Hummingbird tells us not to be fooled by appearances. Eagle can carry the bigger picture, but a trip to the closest star can exhaust even the most visionary of us. That’s where Hummingbird urges a lighter way of travelling. This bird is capable of covering vast distances despite its size. It also has a blink-and-you-miss-it style of rapid, sudden movement. One second, Hummingbird is there; the next, over there; then there; then gone.
In other words, we are being encouraged to put down the burdens of our overarching vision in favor of one moment at a time, so we can appreciate the sweet nectar of life. Lest this sound like a spiritual platitude, Hummingbird reminds us that this is actually the smart move, too. Because with this lighter momentum, we find more vitality and our perspectives are exposed to quantum-like shifts. Relieved of our burden, we can let life flow opportunistically in our favor. And like Hummingbird, it can all happen without apparent effort — and in the blink of an eye.
True forgiveness is radical. Map in this position refers to the long journey, the pilgrimage of our lives. It suggests that the topography and way-markers provided by the map, our overarching vision, may have been useful but across this transition, there is another form of navigation.
Like Eagle approaching the sun, it’s time to give up the dream, so it can be reborn in another form. Now it is only attachment to the path itself that is blocking the path. This transition or bridge represents a critical juncture. It’s time to put the Map in our back pocket and walk in faith. But who will support us?
When Mara claimed that the seat of enlightenment belonged to him, his soldiers declared they were his witness. They cried to Gautama Siddhartha: who will speak for you? He then touched the Earth, who testified on his behalf, and the Buddha was born. The Earth is our witness, too. Nature provides the map if we learn to read the signs of destiny, without the onerous need to cross-check against our old tools. This is radical reorientation.
Grace knows no limitations. Grace breaks down what it means to be worthy and unworthy. It is a gratuitous, paradigm-busting force. As Christ said in Matthew: “[God] causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good [alike], and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”
If this offends our sense of fairness, then here is our radical reorientation: all our old dogmas are useless. Grace is never earned, never withheld. Those are human games. Grace illuminating the Mind here is terribly good news. Terrible for the institutions we have internalized, and wonderful for our sense of freedom and peace. It suggests we don’t have to wait any longer to feel worthy or healed or whole. That was an identity loop.
There is a saying: If you chase after God long enough, eventually God chases after you. If we are no longer pursuing our worthiness, we make space for miracles. The ghosts of guilt, regret, and shame can retreat like Mara’s demons from the newly awakened Buddha. We can also put down our dream and enter the Dreamtime itself. That means surrendering to God’s dream of us — and that’s a mighty dream, indeed. Talk about reorientation. No map necessary.
The Bat totem represents, again, rebirth. It has an initiatory, shamanic energy, exploring the shadows and the liminal space between day and night. In the Body position, it’s worth noting that the Bat occupies a unique evolutionary place: it is a mammal, yet it has wings. This is another reiteration of the transition theme.
Yet rather than focusing on the neither-here-nor-there quality of transition, Bat represents a bridge between worlds. As reflected by the Buddha touching the Earth as his witness, we are not escaping the world but recommitting ourselves deeply to our home. Acting as the physical temple — the stable bridge between heaven and Earth — ennobles our bodies in a new way.
Consider this from the prophet Joel: “In the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh.” The eschatological last days of revelation are upon us, and the final judgment is surely favorable. Our bodies have carried ancestral trauma; they have been crucified on the cross-purposes of duality. We have been embodied as agents of reconciliation.
Now, as Spirit pours itself into flesh in the ritual of our rebirth, a new question arises: How much joy can our bodies contain? Not a giddy joy, but one that includes and transcends what the Roman poet Virgil called “the tears of things.” Gladness and grief, triumph and disaster, hope and beyond-hope, all reconciled in a single shout of baptismal joy: Hallelujah.
On one level, Christ is the archetypal wounded healer. When He began His healing ministry, its ultimate aim was spiritual reorientation; that physical manifestations had a spiritual cause. Then He moved on to parables as a means of transmission beyond the rational, got-to-figure-it-out mind. The apostles were still bamboozled.
Finally, Christ modelled His life as the teaching. I am the Way, the Truth, and the Light. Christ’s appearance in the Spirit position reverses the burden of proof: healing follows reorientation, and illumination follows gratuitous Grace. We are sometimes encouraged to dream our world into being. However, what if we are the ones being dreamed into being?
Christ shows us that we can peer through the veil of separation consciousness, the only real wound to heal. We are the living temple housing great spirit on Earth. This month has a baptismal energy. Even if we are illuminated by spirit for just a moment — a transfiguration in our dreams, the recalling of an ancient memory — our lives will never be the same.
This position signifies an element that cannot be controlled or domesticated. Always, it is working in our favor but sometimes doesn’t feel like it. Wildcard can be a surprise, a shock, or a game-changer. The appearance of Siddhartha brings us full circle.
This is not Siddhartha, the Buddha, rather the eponymous character is Hermann Hesse’s classic book. In this narrative, Siddhartha actually turned his back on the historical Buddha. Siddhartha exhausted both poles of the human experience: he tried the path of austerity, self-sacrifice, and self-denial — and found it wanting. He tried the path of sensuality, materialism, and indulgence — and found it soul destroying.
Siddhartha despaired and grew sick and tired of himself. He didn’t want another teacher or guru. Instead, the river and life led him exactly where he needed to go. In the Bodhisattva vow, one promises to be the vessel to carry others to the other shore: May I be a bridge, a boat, a ship, for all who wish to cross [the water]. Siddhartha becomes the ferryman.
As a Wildcard, Siddhartha suggests a bend in the river lies ahead but we cannot see where it heads. Perhaps we don’t even see it coming. Nonetheless, it represents a critical juncture that leaves behind all the old dualities: triumph and disaster, God and mammon, method and outcome, healing and wellness. If we immerse ourselves in the river’s baptismal energies, without seeking to alter its course, spirit will pour itself into flesh.
From here, it is not teaching or healing that helps us and others across the water, but our presence and fully embodying our lives. This transition, then, as if it wasn’t already clear, is a rebirth. Welcome home.
Sip a little more: