The Taurus New Moon, the End of a Seven-Year Cycle, and the Life You Can Finally Sustain
Every day lately I’ve seen another astrology post declaring that we’re entering a portal, crossing a threshold, beginning a destined new era. Usually, I roll my eyes a little. Not because I don’t believe astrology marks meaningful transitions… obviously I do. But because a lot of modern astrology content skips over the messy human part. The nervous system part. The body part. The “this absolutely wrecked me before it rebuilt me” part.
But this Taurus New Moon on May 16 does feel significant to me.
Not in a glittery “everything changes overnight” kind of way. But in a quieter, deeper way. Like standing in front of a doorway you didn’t even realize you’d been walking toward for years.
Astrologically, it makes sense. Since 2018, Uranus has been moving through Taurus, shaking up everything connected to Taurus themes: stability, security, money, survival, the body, comfort, values, the physical reality of our lives. Uranus disrupts whatever has become stagnant, unsustainable, or falsely stable. It doesn’t always do this gently.
And honestly? I’ve felt this transit intensely.
My dad died in 2017. I met my husband in 2018.
(Aaaand I just realized these dates! Get this: Uranus was in Aries 3/11/2011-5/15/2018. My dad had an Aries moon. My husband is a Taurus rising. I had my first text conversation with Patrick around May 15th!)
Then came the pandemic, collective fear, repeated COVID infections, worsening chronic pain, and eventually one of the worst health experiences of my life. In early 2022, after a COVID booster and years of accumulating stress, grief, exhaustion, and nervous-system depletion, I developed an absolutely brutal case of shingles across the back of my skull and around my ear. I have fibromyalgia already, but this was different. I’ve never experienced pain and misery like that in my life.
Almost immediately afterward, my landlady told us she was suddenly selling the house we’d been told would never be sold. We had to move fast, while I was already barely functioning physically. We spent an absurd amount of money hiring movers because my body simply could not do it. Even unpacking what remained took me nearly a year because I had so few spoons left.
And the thing is… I don’t think I’m alone in this.
Maybe your version wasn’t shingles and moving boxes and grief. But I think a lot of people have spent the last seven years watching parts of their lives collapse that they thought were stable. Relationships. Careers. Bodies. Financial security. Identities. Belief systems. The structures we thought would hold us suddenly didn’t.
That’s the thing about Taurus. Everyone talks about Taurus as comfort, beauty, abundance, luxury. But Taurus also rules survival. Physical limits. Material reality. What your body can and cannot sustain.
And Uranus moving through Taurus has been asking all of us:
What in your life is actually sustainable?
What stability was real… and what was just familiar?
For me, this hasn’t felt like a glamorous manifestation era. It has felt like a long dismantling. A stripping away. A forced confrontation with what my body, mind, finances, and spirit could no longer carry.
Which is exactly why this New Moon feels important.
Not because I think the universe is magically handing out perfect new lives next weekend. But because I finally feel like I’m standing at the edge of a different chapter. Not fully healed, not perfectly transformed, but no longer entirely trapped in survival mode either.
And I think that’s the real doorway.
Not luck.
Not destiny.
Alignment.
The door appears because you finally became someone who can walk through it without abandoning yourself on the other side.
That’s what this Taurus New Moon feels like to me.
Not fantasy manifestation. Embodied manifestation.
Not “wish harder.”
Build differently.
Because Taurus manifestation isn’t really about visualizing harder or pretending everything is already perfect. Taurus asks much more grounded questions:
Can your nervous system hold the life you say you want?
Can your body sustain it?
Can your relationships support it?
Can your finances support it?
Can YOU support it?
That’s the real magic.
And honestly? I think that’s much more powerful than cosmic fairy tale astrology.
So if this New Moon feels emotional for you, if it feels like something is ending while something else quietly begins, trust that. You don’t have to force yourself into a dramatic rebirth. You don’t have to become a brand new person overnight.
Maybe this cycle ending simply means you’re finally ready to stop building your life around survival.
And that’s enough.
Upcoming Transits
What’s especially interesting to me is that this Taurus New Moon doesn’t exist in isolation. It’s happening right before a major energetic shift into Gemini, and honestly, I think that’s part of why this moment feels less like a dramatic ending and more like the beginning of waking back up.
After years of Uranus moving through Taurus and forcing so many of us to confront survival, stability, money, burnout, physical limits, and the realities of living in our bodies, the energy starts changing. Uranus moves into Gemini, and almost immediately Mercury follows (May 17th). Then the Sun (May 20th). Then eventually Ceres (May 28th). The focus begins shifting from pure survival and embodiment into voice, thought, perspective, communication, identity, and mental awakening.
To me, that feels deeply symbolic.
It feels like the first phase of this cycle was about surviving the storm. Learning what was sustainable. Learning what our bodies could no longer tolerate. But the next phase feels different. It feels like the return of curiosity. The return of thought. The return of possibility. Like after years of nervous-system exhaustion and emotional heaviness, something in the mind begins to move again.
And honestly? As a Gemini rising, that feels both exciting and terrifying to me. Uranus crossing the Ascendant can absolutely bring change, unpredictability, and radical self-redefinition. But I’m starting to realize that maybe this isn’t about chaos arriving. Maybe it’s about authenticity arriving. Maybe after years of being dismantled internally, the next chapter is about becoming visible differently.
Let’s talk about the goddesses in this story-
There’s also something beautiful to me about the archetypes involved here.
Looking back, this Uranus-in-Taurus era feels less like random chaos and more like an initiation through several archetypal forces.
Oya arrived first — the storm goddess who tears apart what can no longer stand.
Then came Ceres, asking what my body actually needed to survive and be nourished.
Hekate stood at the crossroads, holding the doorway between the person I had been and the person I was becoming.
And now, finally, I feel Aphrodite returning — not as superficial beauty, but as worth, embodiment, pleasure, and the slow rebuilding of a life that feels safe to inhabit again.
Taurus New Moon Ritual: Walk Through the Doorway
This ritual is less about “calling in abundance” and more about becoming emotionally and physically available for the life you’re trying to build.
You’ll need:
- a candle
- a bowl of water or salt
- an object representing the life you want to build (a key, money, jewelry, a journal, lipstick, business card, crystal — anything physical)
- a literal doorway
Start by sitting quietly and thinking about who you were in 2018. Not romantically. Honestly.
Ask yourself:
- What survival patterns ruled my life?
- What did I tolerate because I thought I had to?
- What false stability collapsed?
- What have these past seven years forced me to learn?
Then write down what you are no longer willing to build your life around.
Maybe it’s:
- burnout
- scarcity
- self-abandonment
- chaos
- overgiving
- relationships that drain you
- constantly living in survival mode
Fold the paper and place it in the bowl of water or salt.
Then hold the object representing your future life and ask yourself:
What am I finally ready to sustain?
Not:
What do I want?
Taurus asks:
What are you willing to consistently nourish into reality?
Now stand in a doorway. One foot behind you, one foot ahead.
And say:
“I am no longer trying to survive the life that was breaking me.
I release the instability, fear, exhaustion, and self-abandonment that shaped the last version of me.
I am building a life my body can safely live inside of.
What is meant for me will require my presence, not my suffering.
I walk forward in alignment, embodiment, and trust.”
Then physically walk through the doorway.
Not because a magical portal has opened in the cosmos.
But because symbolic action matters. Your nervous system understands ritual. Your body understands movement. Your subconscious understands thresholds.
And maybe that’s what this New Moon really is:
Not a miracle.
A crossing.
If you’d like a reading about the Uranus and Gemini transit for your chart, feel free to contact me at kelly@kelly-mcclain.com
