The Moon in Pisces with an Appetite Rising


The sun is high and the days are long. A flock of crow gossip noisily above and a dragonfly is hovering over the birdbath, shimmering with almost iridescent light. In the summer dinner time always sneaks up on me by surprise, catches me unaware in the middle of doing something else. 

But today I’m thinking about dinner even before I’ve had lunch. I'm making the pinto bean dish I collected in Taos the day my friend Luke arranged for me to have my astrology read. It’s one of my favorites, being hot, spicy and down right sincere. 

I probably would not have thought to seek out an astrology reading, and it turned out to be wildly fun when my friend set up the appointment and sent me off. 

Rosemary, the astrologer, had silver hair reaching almost to her waist. She opened her bright blue door and I walked into her sunny kitchen. Her cottage floors were made of used brick and the natural pine cupboards were snug and the doorways were low. 

Open shelves housed baskets of dried oregano, dill, sage, and canning jars filled with apricots and cherries. Fragrant basil spilled out of a clear glass container, a clump of freshly picked cilantro sat near the sink and she had a pot of pinto beans simmering on her coal black stove. 

“I want you to see this Yod. It's forming a star, a parallelogram, by the way it is happening between two nodes and a trine and it’s rare.” The words flowed from Rosemary like clear water from a mountain stream. She handed me a tan paper with my astrological chart hand drawn, in careful script and we sat down together at her kitchen table. I settled into an oak armchair, propping my elbows on the table, listening with a hungry mind. 

Luke and Rosemary were close friends and when I was with her I had one of those feelings as if I'd known her for years too. We talked for hours about astrology, herbs, medicine plants, healing and the helper plants that aren't strong enough on their own and must be used with other healing plants. And we talked about different ways to fix pinto beans. 

The day ended with me gaining a better understanding of the way the planets shape my life. I’m an Aries, with an Aries-Cancer chart type. Sagittarius rising, with a Pisces moon. Most important of all is that I'm a Yod person—it means I should expect the unexpected, which comes as no surprise. 

Everything Rosemary explained about my astrology chart rang true and took me home to who I am. It was like water returning to the riverbed...  and I also had a sudden inspiration to cook. 

My Favorite Pinto Bean Casserole 
About 2 cups of pinto beans 
A small amount of cooked chicken, diced – optional 
1 cup of cooked brown rice 
A few dollops of sour cream, to bind 
1 can (15 oz) of yellow hominy, or you can soak dried hominy
A yellow and red bell pepper, chopped 
Onion, chopped 
2 or 3 garlic cloves, chopped 
3 large tomatoes, chopped 
Fresh or dried oregano 
New Mexico chili powder 
Cumin

There aren't any exact amounts of anything added, because that's the way I cook. Use your own cooking instincts based on if you like it hearty or lean, spicy or mild. I like it hearty and spicy.

In a large skillet over medium heat sauté peppers, garlic, onion in olive oil until tender. Add tomatoes, chili powder and cumin, cook 5 minutes. Take the skillet off the stove and add other ingredients, along with a little bit of sour cream. Stir to blend. Put into a casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for 35 or 40 minutes. And if you make this in the summer, like I'm doing today, turn the fan on high and open the window wide. 

I like to serve this with sliced red serrano chiles, green onion and cilantro on top, along with with a salad. 

Peppermint sun tea is brewed and chilled, and today I have simmered an extra large pot of pinto beans, plenty to make a bean soup later in the week, to eat along with a loaf of crusty sourdough bread. It's a wonder-fully filling dish in which the main ingredient is the star. The bean soup is amazing after the beans rest in the fridge. I will top it off with a salsa made with fresh picked tomatoes. 

Then I make a mental note to call Rosemary. She had mentioned a few astrology books I might want to read, and I want to hear more about my yod.
When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner’s pick, a wood-carver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year. —Annie Dillard


We Who Walk the Seven Ways is Terra Trevor’s memoir about seeking healing and finding belonging. After she endured a difficult loss, a circle of Native women elders embraced and guided Trevor (mixed-blood Cherokee, Lenape, Seneca, and German) through the seven cycles of life in Indigenous ways. Over three decades, these women lifted her from grief, instructed her in living, and showed her how to age from youth into beauty. 

With tender honesty, Trevor explores how every ending is always a beginning. Her reflections on the deep power of women’s friendship, losing a child, reconciling complicated roots, and finding richness in every stage of life show that being an American Indian with a complex lineage is not about being part something, but about being part of something. 

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“Terra Trevor’s memoir is a gentle invitation to journey with her across decades, an invitation to notice with her as she seeks healing and finds belonging. There were phrases and sentences I underlined, places where I wept, passages that will remain with me as they drew me to insights I’d previously struggled to name. I closed the final pages and knew that in reading this book, I had been the recipient of a generous and much-needed gift. While I can certainly finish a book in a day, I chose to move slowly through this one, letting each idea, each paragraph, each reflection gently spill over me, allowing the pages to alter me in some way.” —Patrice Gopo, author of Autumn Song: Essays on Absence

 "Terra Trevor’s Pushing up the Sky is a revelation of the struggles and triumphs packed into the hyphens between Korean and Native American and American. From her, we learn that adoption can best be mutual, that the adoptive parent needs acculturation in the child’s ways. With unflinching honesty and unfailing love, Trevor details the risks and heartaches of taking in, the bittersweetness of letting go, and the everlasting bonds that grow between them all. With ‘Pushing up the Sky’, the ‘literature of adoption’ comes of age as literature, worthy of an honored place in the human story." —Robert Bensen, editor of Children of the Dragonfly: Native American Voices on Child Custody and Education