Pisces always asks us to loosen our relationship with certainty.

Two of my earliest spiritual experiences happened while looking out at the horizon at sunrise ~ once as a 20-year-old in my college boyfriend’s lakeside backyard, and again a few years later at Esalen in Big Sur, whose land is my truest soul home. Both times, I remember looking toward the horizon in a state of pure presence and bliss, feeling the absolute perfection of that moment and not wanting to turn my head for fear of ending it. And both times, I was overcome by the strangest knowing that somehow, the moment would always exist. An inner voice said to me: everything true is always real.

I use the word “channeled” very seldom, but the arrival of that phrase was a true experience of channeling. I have been a student of its wisdom in the many years since.

This is all very Piscean.

Tonight’s Lunar Eclipse arrives in the early degrees of Pisces, opposite the Sun in Virgo, at the tail end of an eclipse story that has been moving through the Pisces/Virgo axis for the past year and a half. Earlier this month, the lunar nodes shifted into Leo and Aquarius, opening an entirely new chapter around identity, belonging, creativity, visibility and our place within the collective. And yet before we move fully into that territory, Pisces is asking for one final surrender.

Meaning ~ we are in a liminal state, a threshold between cycles if you will.

Earlier this month, the Solar Eclipse in Leo carried a very different kind of energy. Fire in it, life force. A sense of emergence and creative initiation. This eclipse is quieter, more interior. Pisces turns our attention toward the invisible places where dreams, intuitions, fears and fantasies live before they ever find form.

Pisces is a mysterious character. It governs what we sense before we can explain it, what we believe before we can prove it, and the visions that sometimes accompany us for years before we understand what they were trying to show us. Virgo sits opposite, asking for discernment, evidence, usefulness and tangible results.

I know this axis intimately. My double-Virgo (Moon & rising) nature wants to understand what something means, where it’s going, and how I will know when it has arrived. Pisces asks me to remain in relationship with the parts of life that resist those measurements.

There are seasons when something can be deeply real without having a visible outcome. A relationship can be changing us long before we know what it will become…a creative idea can be alive long before it finds its final form. A new identity can be assembling itself beneath the surface while the outer life still looks exactly the same. For most humans, these liminal spaces are profoundly uncomfortable.

While we are conditioned to trust what we can point to, Pisces invites us to develop a deeper kind of trust. One of the questions beneath this eclipse is: Can you remain in relationship with what you know before life has given you proof?

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In the age of Instagram memes and pop-spirituality, it’s important to remain skeptical of sensationalized days deemed “portals.” How much of the potency we attribute to these energetically heightened moments arises from genuine cosmic happenings, and how much is amplified by collective attention?

When I teach my Soul Blueprint Course, I speak about fate and free will, and how astrology leaves room for both. I describe the birth chart as a map. Fate hands each of us a unique landscape ~ our gifts, challenges and tendencies. Free will determines how we choose to walk it.

And real-time astrology works the same way. Transits are heavenly doorways ~ “doorway” being the operative word. Just as the birth chart offers a spectrum of possible expressions for every placement, current astrology offers energetic weather conditions. With our free will, we decide how consciously we wish to meet them. In the same way that a hot, sunny day invites us toward the beach but doesn’t require us to go, astrology presents opportunities without removing our agency.

Which brings me back to my skepticism around the way August 8th’s Lion’s Gate is often described as a manifestation portal.

I actually believe it is ~ the reasoning, however, feels far more nuanced.

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It’s been a few months since I’ve written one of these monthly astrology overviews. I’ve missed it ~ reflecting on our cosmic weather-patterns helps me make sense of the season I'm living through. My double-Virgo mind exhales when everything finds its place and purpose.

This summer, every ounce of my attention has been devoted to bringing Heavenly Bodies Tarot into the world. After years of painting, writing, editing, designing and manufacturing, the deck is finally here. We have the inventory. We’ve shared it with our closest friends and family. We gathered together at the Summer Solstice to celebrate what felt like the completion of a very long creative journey.

We had hoped that gathering would also mark our public launch. But, as it turns out, self-publishing asks a great deal of you. Blu and I often joke that we’ve been building this airplane while flying it. Every week has introduced a lesson we couldn’t have anticipated. As challenging as it’s been, there has also been something deeply rewarding about learning every piece of this process ourselves. We’re now just days away from opening the doors, and we couldn’t be more excited to finally place this work into your hands.

Alongside all of this, another chapter has come full circle. After five years with my longtime publisher, I regained the rights to Heavenly Bodies Astrology. For the first time, both Heavenly Bodies Astrology and Heavenly Bodies Tarot now live together under Heavenly Bodies Studios. Having my two creative babies finally under one roof is deeply meaningful to me. One represents where this journey began and the other represents everything it has grown into.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve continued to reflect on the Summer Solstice, a month after it’s activation…

Every year, the Summer Solstice arrives as the longest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere (June 21) ~ the moment the Sun reaches its greatest strength before slowly beginning its descent toward autumn.

Within the zodiac, this turning point coincides with the Sun’s entrance into Cancer.

Cancer reminds us that life begins in hidden places. The brightest season of the year is born from months spent beneath the surface. Long before we witness blossoms, harvests or abundance, there is a period of cultivation taking place underground. Seeds soften, roots deepen. Life gathers itself before anyone can see it.

I’ve found myself returning to that image again and again this summer.

For years, Blu and I disappeared into our little studio in Topanga Canyon and devoted ourselves to building this world and asking the cards to reveal themselves to us. So much of creativity unfolds in private.

The visible moment ~ the launch, celebration and finished work ~ is only a tiny fraction of the story. The tip of the iceberg. The greater part is lived in the unseen.

I reflected on this while sitting with the Solstice ~ how perfectly this season has mirrored our own creative process. The light we’ve been celebrating all summer was shaped by months of darkness before it ever reached the surface.

Creation asks the same of us.

As much as I’ve missed writing here, I also knew I didn’t want to write simply because I felt I should.

We’re living through an extraordinary moment where technology can generate endless words in a matter of seconds. There has never been more pressure to remain visible, consistent and constantly producing.

If something arrives in your inbox with my name attached to it, I want you to trust that I’ve actually lived with it. I’ve sat with it long enough for it to become something I genuinely want to share. My relationship with astrology has never been about reporting on transits. It’s about allowing the cosmos to reveal deeper context for the season we’re living through.

And, over the past few months, my attention simply belonged elsewhere. I wasn’t sitting in front of my altar contemplating planetary movements. I was learning shipping logistics, editing printer proofs, reviewing Amazon listings and making hundreds of tiny decisions ~ all to bring something beautiful into existence.

Looking back, I can see that the astrology was describing this season all along. And once I stepped back far enough to see it, the symbolism became almost impossible to miss.

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It’s been an interesting experience deepening my devotion to teaching astrology at a time when it feels like more information is the last thing anyone needs.

With the rapid expansion of AI in content creation, the sheer volume of what’s being produced is impossible to keep up with. My algorithm is flooded with astrology posts, most of which have clearly been written by AI. The voice is distinct ~ a flattened, soulless cadence that I immediately recognize. And without the guidance of a skilled astrologer, it’s often not just hollow, but truly inaccurate. Which means there is more content than ever…and less truth inside of it.

As a double Virgo, I am process-oriented and integrity is a non-negotiable. Sometimes I wish I were more relaxed about things. My meticulous approach slows me down and, at times, feels paralyzing. I can’t move forward into sharing until something feels whole ~ grounded, considered, meaningful. This standard has been with me my entire life, long before AI, but now it feels heightened. Because the world doesn’t need more opinions, noise or half-formed ideas.

I’ve been reflecting on my role in all of this. Because I have devoted myself to studying this craft ~ and more importantly, to living it. I know the relationship I have with the cosmos, and the way I translate it into something tangible, is needed. We may not need more information ~ but we do need more people who are actually embodying what they know.

I’ve been thinking about discernment, especially in relation to creativity. As a Virgo rising, I’m ruled by Mercury ~ the planet of the mind. Virgo scans, refines and edits. It looks for what’s off so it can heal and bring something into integrity. In shadow, this becomes perfectionism. But at its highest, it creates work that is precise, intentional and deeply considered.

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The thing I trust most in myself is my eye. My ability to make something feel right. Whether it’s the way I dress, how I design a space or the art I create ~ I know there’s a natural clarity there. My style is simple, I’m not interested in excess. I’ve always been drawn to the idea that less can say more ~ if it’s chosen well.

With AI, we are entering a time of overwhelming “more.” More information, more content, more speed. And what I keep coming back to is this idea that discernment is not a limitation on creativity ~ it’s the thing that gives it power.

It feels obvious to assume creative freedom comes from removing all constraints. But I experience it differently. For me, it comes from removing what isn’t true. From refining something down until only what’s essential remains.

Recently, this little concept of mine has begun moving beyond creativity and into something more physical. I’m noticing, in a very real way, how much my thoughts impact my body. How certain narratives, when repeated, actually make me feel unwell. And how quickly things shift when I stop feeding them.

It’s made me think about the idea of “mind viruses” ~ patterns of thought that move through us automatically, without being questioned, shaping how we feel and experience reality.

What would it look like to actually see them? To slow down just enough to notice what’s true and what isn’t ~ and to choose, deliberately, what we allow to take hold. Because the more I pay attention, the clearer it becomes…what we think doesn’t just shape how we see the world. It shapes what we are able to live inside of.

And when I look at the astrology right now, this train of thought is a direct reflection of what’s unfolding.

The Astrology of May 2026:

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Uranus has been in Taurus for the last eight years, since May 2018. When I teach astrology (more about that here), I say that the planets “hold the action.” Each one carries a particular function ~ a task in the unfolding of our lives. Uranus is often described as the great awakener, the revolutionary. It gets framed as rebellious, which is true, but the more interesting question is what it’s rebelling against.

Anything that keeps us small. Anything that limits our authenticity. Anything that asks us to contort ourselves in order to belong.

Uranus is always in service to freedom and truth. And because of that, it doesn’t move gently. It behaves like a lightning strike, or an earthquake, disrupting whatever structure has become too rigid, comfortable or fixed.

Which makes Taurus an interesting place for it to have been. Taurus is slow, sensual, grounded. It’s connected to the body, comfort, material stability and the rhythms that make life feel good. In shadow, it can become stagnant, overly-attached and resistant to change.

So for the past eight years, Uranus has been moving through the terrain of our comfort zones ~ shaking them, stretching them. For me, it’s been relentless. A steady undoing of the places where I’ve been tempted to stay small, safely inside what’s familiar. There’s been so much stretching. And the strange thing about healing is that the deeper you go, the deeper it goes.

The last year and a half, in particular, has felt intense. There have been moments where I’ve genuinely thought, how is this still here? After a decade of this kind of work, how am I still touching these same edges?

But I’ve come to understand that this is the nature of it. The cleaner you get, the more sensitive you become. The more committed you are to truth, the harder it becomes to tolerate anything that isn’t aligned with it.

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There isn’t a final destination where you arrive and you’re “healed.” That’s not a real place. What changes is your relationship to your own experience. Your ability to discern what’s true, what isn’t, and what you choose to give your energy to.

And in that way, Uranus in Taurus has done its job. It’s shaken the ground enough, so that staying where you were is no longer an option.

In these final days of Uranus in Taurus, I found myself on several long road trips. Usually, extended car-time means astrology lectures or spiritual audiobooks. But lately, I’ve felt less interested in spirituality as a subject, and more drawn to contemplating what’s unfolding in culture through its lens ~ the moments that capture collective attention. What do they reveal about how we’re actually doing? About what we’re longing for?

This journey began with the 90’s nostalgia of Love Story ~ the Carolyn Bessette and JFK Jr. series that everyone seemed to be watching (which I wrote about here). And then Justin Bieber’s Coachella set, which I found unexpectedly moving. It was stripped back, almost underproduced. Some people read it as a lack of effort. To me, it was the opposite ~ it felt intentional. Human. Seeing old YouTube footage of him as a kid, on massive screens, paired with his present-day self just standing there, singing, without hiding behind spectacle ~ a reminder of the path he’s walked, the time it took and the person underneath the performance.

I was struck by how much I’m craving this right now ~ and judging by the response, we all are. Everything is so polished. So optimized. With AI, with aesthetic perfection and the way we curate ourselves online. There’s an eerie, airbrushed, non-human sameness everywhere I look…and, at the same time, a hunger for something real.

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New Moon in Aries

April 17, 2026 at 4:51 am PST • The Sun and Moon at 27° Aries

There’s a moment when something we’ve been circling internally, over time, suddenly isn’t internal anymore. When we realize we’ve turned a page and there is no going back. It’s a strange threshold because, for a while, nothing on the outside looks different, yet something in us has shifted and we can feel we’re no longer in the same place we once were. Once that awareness lands, with its quiet finality, a mix of feelings often follow ~ nostalgia for what was, nervous anticipation about what’s next…maybe some excitement, maybe some fear.

Looking at a blank canvas is always daunting. So much so, I tend to paint a quick base color over them, before starting a new piece. There’s something to that in life ~ to keep things moving, rather than getting stuck in the mind. With all that space comes endless possibility, and the mind has a tendency to want to organize it. What should I do? What’s the right move? Where is this leading? We can get caught there, trying to think our way forward before taking a single step.

If there’s any energy that interrupts that pattern and brings us back into something more immediate, more embodied, it’s Aries. Aries doesn’t wait for certainty or full understanding. It responds to what’s in front of it. It trusts the impulse that comes from being alive in the moment, even if that impulse is simple and doesn’t yet make complete sense. There’s an innocence to it, a willingness to begin without needing to know where it will end ~ and that’s exactly where things begin to shift.

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There’s an unsuspecting moment, after a period of being inward, where something begins to shift. It may be subtle at first, but unmistakably marked by wanting to respond instead of retreat. To act ~ even in small ways ~ where before we may have stayed in observation a bit longer.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been writing about what I’ve come to think of as The Art of Disappearing ~ phases where life asks us to step back, go quiet, and loosen our grip on identity…while something deeper reorganizes itself beneath the surface.

There is a brilliant, sacred intelligence in those spaces ~ a reorientation that happens when we’re not constantly expressing, reacting or defining ourselves in real time. And…there’s also a point where that phase completes. Not because we’ve arrived at a definable clarity, but because we are now ready to “live our way into the answer”.

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

These words were written over 100 years ago by the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. I’m always amazed and comforted by the realization that no matter how much the world changes, the essence of the human experience remains the same. And, as Rilke writes, I’ve always loved this idea…that clarity isn’t something we arrive at through effort or analysis alone, but something we grow into through lived experience. And yet, so often, we try to do the opposite. We try to think our way to certainty ~ to understand something fully before we move…to name the answer before we’ve actually lived the question.

But life doesn’t really work that way. More often, the process of arrival is quieter ~ and definitely less linear. We’re already inside of something ~ participating in it, adjusting to it, working around it ~ and then, almost imperceptibly, our perspective shifts. We see it from a slightly different angle and it’s obvious. Nothing externally has changed, but our relationship to it has.

April, home to Aries season, is always firey ~ but April 2026 turns up the volume. I’ll be sharing more about the unprecedented Aries energy coming through, in the coming days and weeks, but Mars returning to its home sign of Aries marks this shift. It brings energy back into the body ~ into instinct, into movement. And once that energy starts to return, it becomes very difficult to stay where we’ve been.

Mars Enters Aries

April 9, 2026 - May 18, 2026

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I spent most of February and March in what I can only describe as an Adobe vortex, formatting Blu and my forthcoming tarot deck. We finished all 78 hand-illustrated artworks months ago and wrote the manuscript shortly thereafter, but building out the packaging and reformatting everything into a cohesive, physical product was an entirely different kind of process. Whenever I zoomed too far out and tried to hold the full scope of what needed to happen, it felt overwhelming ~ almost impossible. The only way through was to stay with what was directly in front of us. One task at a time. As long as I stayed present with what needed to be done that day, the next step revealed itself.

We saw an early sample the other day and I texted Blu, “this looks like it was made by some people who have been some places and seen some things.” The process took us deep into imagination, psyche and symbolism…all the places I naturally love to live. But to bring it into form ~ to make it usable, tangible, real ~ that part was all Earth, and I could feel how much I needed that.

I love flying around in the cosmos (clearly, I’m an astrologer), but recently I’ve felt a gravitational pull, or a very real desire, to anchor into the 3D and be here. The shift feels less like a change in direction and more like a completion ~ the awareness and perspective developed in the ethers are asking to be lived.

In the name of 3D, in the final stretch of this tarot formatting process, I found myself watching Love Story, along with the rest of the world, which took me somewhere I wasn’t expecting. I’ll be the first to admit, this was an out of character and unsuspecting background choice for sacred tarot making ~ I usually listen to astrology lectures or maybe Outlander when I’m working. But our deck is charged to say the least and I was craving something a bit denser, to keep me from floating away.

I’m always interested in what’s moving through the zeitgeist ~ it says a lot about our collective longing. And Love Story became a bit of a sensation, which piqued my interest. For anyone who hasn’t seen it, it follows the relationship between John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette, who died in a plane crash in 1999. I was twelve when it happened and, for whatever reason, it’s one of those moments that imprinted itself in my memory. Judging by the popularity of the show, I’m not the only one who recalls exactly where they were. I remember my mom coming into my room that morning, crying ~ I had no idea who CBK or JFK Jr. were and was confused about why she was so upset. But, for some reason, I could feel the gravitas of the moment and I never forgot that day.

I steamrolled through the series and then listened to a few audiobooks about their lives as I continued working ~ which transported me back to a time that feels like the last age of innocence…pre 9/11, pre social media, pre living our lives online. Millennials are bridge people in the sense that we had full lives before the internet and full lives after. I think we all carry an inherent nostalgia for the presence and simplicity of those days, while also participating in building our online platforms and expanding beyond the traditional 9–5 template.

Carolyn and John, forever immortalized as their 30-something, 1999 selves, feel like frozen relics of that time. Carolyn specifically. She avoided the press entirely, never giving a formal interview or sitting for a photo, while being relentlessly followed by it. There was no performance of self, no attempt to control how she was perceived, all while emanating a palpable magnetism. She had her own life and trajectory at a time when that wasn’t a given for young women. She was rising through the fashion world in NYC in her twenties, immersed in something that was hers. From all accounts of those who knew her ~ she wasn’t reaching outward for validation or attention and was genuinely rooted in herself ~ which, of course, drew everything to her.

Her birth chart makes sense in a way that feels eerily exact. Venus conjunct Mars on her Ascendant ~ the feminine and masculine currents woven together, expressed through how she meets the world. Softness and strength existing at the same time. True beauty and presence without effort or performance. And an Aquarius rising ~ archetypal, ahead of her time...mythical.

What strikes me most is her South Node in Sagittarius in the 10th house. Public identity, being seen and known as something. She had already lived this energy in lifetimes past, which is why it came to her so effortlessly in this one ~ this was not her first rodeo ~ yet she was meant to be moving away from it.

And her Sun, her identity, in the 12th house ~ there’s a pull toward privacy, toward remaining just out of view. She couldn’t bear to be the center of attention, yet found herself in one of its most concentrated expressions, because of all that magnetism. And then, to die so young, she slipped away behind the veil once more, while simultaneously becoming mythic. In keeping with her 12th house Sun, she is described as otherworldly to those who knew her and elusive to those who didn’t.

And then him. His Sun sits right on her South Node, activating the very thing she knows so well but is meant to be walking away from ~ celebrity, public recognition. There’s karmic weight to a connection like this ~ a pull back into something that already exists. And, on the day their plane went down, Pluto ~ planet of death and power ~ crossing that same place. It’s the kind of astrological symmetry that stops you in your tracks. The whole thing feels fated and so tragic.

I moved through some genuine grief in tapping into all of this. Not just because it’s a horribly sad story, but because of the 90’s time machine it took me on. This modern world is moving so quickly and is beginning to feel unmoored. Where are we trying to go? What is this obsession with more information before we’ve had a chance to integrate it, more efficiency…toward what?

Everything is visible, shared and interpreted in real time. Somewhere in that, it all starts to feel empty. Disposable. It becomes so easy to drift from center and begin orienting around how something looks, lands or is received.

It’s moments like these when astrology, the study of “out there”, miraculously helps me land deeper down here. As it, once again, reminds me, there is a greater intelligence weaving itself through what can so easily look and feel like chaos.

When I look at April through that lens, it feels very clear : this isn’t a month to sit outside of our lives, analyzing it. It’s a month that brings us directly into it.

The Astrology of April 2026:

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There’s a New Moon in Pisces tomorrow and it feels fitting that I’m only just now finding my way back to words.

For the past couple of months, I’ve been largely absent ~ from social media, from conversations, from even the smallest forms of engagement. Texts unanswered, threads left open ~ it’s been a kind of quiet disappearance. This disappearance hasn’t been rooted in disinterest or avoidance ~ but more so a byproduct of being swallowed whole inside of something.

Blu and I have been in the final stretch of completing our tarot deck ~ a project that has lived with us for the past two and a half years. For most of that time, it was expansive. Creative and alive in the way that only the early and middle stages of a project can be ~ artwork covering the walls, ideas unfolding, archetypes revealing themselves. But the last stretch…is something else entirely.

It’s the part where everything has to come together. Where what was once fluid has to take form. Where something deeply intuitive has to become coherent, structured and shareable. Where it has to make sense not only to us ~ but to someone else. That part is exacting and asks for a very specific kind of presence. A kind that, at least for me, requires everything else to go quiet.

I didn’t know how to complete this final weaving without disappearing from my life entirely. Without silencing the outside world enough to stay connected to the thread of it. It felt like if I let too much in ~ other people’s energy, conversations, even small distractions ~ I would lose the pulse of what we were building and not know how to find it again. So I stepped away.

I’ve come to think of this as the art of disappearing ~ it’s a space I know well. It’s deeply Piscean. Neptunian. The dissolution of self in service of something larger ~ imagination, creation, healing, the unseen. A loosening of the edges of identity so something new can move through.

I’ve lived here many times before. I lived here when I created my astrology deck. When I built the Soul Map Journal and Soul Blueprint Course. When I was healing my body in ways that required my full attention, full presence, full surrender. And now again, with the tarot.

Looking back, I’ve spent a significant portion of my thirties in this space ~ in some version of disappearance. In timelessness. In that strange, suspended place where days blur and time doesn’t move in the way it does in the visible world. And I love it there. There’s something deeply nourishing about it ~ it feels like home.

Maybe it’s because my Moon is in the 12th house ~ the part of the chart that corresponds with Pisces, Neptune and this exact terrain. It makes sense that this is where I go to replenish, create and reconnect with myself. But something has shifted. In these final weeks of completing the tarot, I began to feel a different pull ~ a pull back ~ back into my life, into my body, into the world. The strangest and most alien part is that I can feel this pull isn’t coming from obligation, but from desire. And there’s an urgency to it, which is new. Because while I know the waters well…fire has always felt more foreign to me.

I’m an Aries Sun, which on paper suggests energy, initiation, movement, aliveness. And while I do recognize those qualities in myself ~ independence, courage, a willingness to go my own way ~ I have (and I mean this in an ethereal sense, not a depressive one) never felt particularly lit up by being here…in a body, in the immediacy of life. I’ve always felt more at home in water ~ in the intangible, in the in-between.

My mom always jokes that I was two weeks late to my birth. I didn’t want to leave the womb, and what was meant to be a natural birth became a c-section. I was in no hurry to leave the waters. And in some ways, that feeling has followed me.

Yet lately, something in me ~ something distinctly Aries ~ feels like it’s been building, pressing, waiting…and honestly, done with the disappearing. It’s not a rejection of where I’ve been, but it is a completion of it.

Next month is my birthday. I’ll be 39. And I can feel time in a way I haven’t before. A recognition that while I’ve been moving through these nonlinear, timeless spaces…life has also been moving steadily, linearly ~ without pause. And something in me wants to meet it.

Even the place I grew up ~ which for so long felt limiting, too familiar, something I needed to move away from in order to find myself ~ has begun to feel different, more spacious. Like I can be there now without losing myself in it. I had to leave it ~ energetically, emotionally and definitely physically ~ to find my own center. To separate from what I was overly identified with. To float, unattached, long enough to understand who I am without it. And now…I can return. Not as who I was, but as myself.

This New Moon feels familiar ~ like the end of a chapter I’ve lived in many times. It’s a soft return ~ like coming back into the room after being somewhere else for a while. I can feel what’s been created in that space ~ what it gave me, what it asked of me. And now something in me is turning. Not toward anything specific. Just…back. Back into my life. Back into the part of me that’s ready to be here. Not perfectly, not all at once…but differently and definitively.

Reflective prompts I’ll be sitting with throughout this New Moon cycle:

• Where have I been in a necessary disappearance and what has it been asking of me?

• What cycle feels complete, even if I haven’t fully named it yet?

• Where am I being called back into my life ~ not from pressure, but from desire?

With love,

Lily

March doesn’t ask what’s possible ~ it asks what’s ready to move.

February opened a rare threshold. The Saturn/Neptune conjunction at 0° Aries marked a beginning that wasn’t symbolic or abstract ~ it was directive. A moment where vision crossed into responsibility and the future stopped waiting for permission.

March is where that beginning starts to gain traction.

There’s a strong sense this month of standing between worlds. Part of us is still dissolving old habits, identities and attachments. Another part is quietly orienting forward ~ not with certainty, but with instinct ~ and a knowing that something is aligning beneath the surface, even if the whole picture isn’t clear yet.

March opens with eclipse energy ~ a Full Moon Lunar Eclipse in Virgo ~ bringing clarity through discernment. What’s sustainable? What isn’t? What systems, routines and patterns actually support the life you’re building now? Eclipses don’t negotiate ~ they reveal.

Mid-month, a New Moon in Pisces invites one last round of listening. Not drifting. Not escaping. But clearing internal noise so intuition can sharpen. Pisces reminds us that alignment comes before action.

Then everything pivots as the Spring Equinox arrives. The Sun enters Aries, Mercury stations direct and the energy shifts from sensing to initiating. From internal orientation to outward movement. Aries doesn’t rush ~ it responds to readiness.

This matters because April is coming in hot.

April carries an unusually concentrated wave of Aries energy ~ true ignition. Momentum increases, choices compound. March is the bridge. It’s the month that asks you to refine your stance, clarify your direction and notice what wants to move through you before you try to move ahead.

The question threading through March is simple, but exacting:

Can you tell the difference between impulse and initiation?
Between reaction and aligned action?
Between fantasy and something that can actually last?

March teaches us how to act without forcing ~ to move from what’s clear, not from what’s loud. What you clarify here becomes the ground you’ll be standing on very soon.

Below, we step inside the month ~ tracing the eclipses, pivots and initiation points shaping what comes next, and how to work with them consciously.

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There are transits that rearrange circumstances and then there are transits that rearrange orientation. The Saturn/Neptune conjunction at 0° Aries belongs to the latter.

This is not a moment for grand conclusions or dramatic declarations. It’s a threshold, a point of ignition. A quiet but irreversible beginning.

Saturn and Neptune don’t meet often. Roughly every 36 years, their cycles converge, asking humanity to reconcile reality with spirit, form with meaning, responsibility with faith. But where they meet matters just as much as that they meet.

This time, they converge at the very beginning of the zodiac.

0° Aries: The Creator Point

Zero degrees is not neutral space. It’s the most concentrated expression of any sign ~ the place where potential condenses into motion.

Aries is the archetype of initiation: the will to exist, to act, to assert presence. At 0° Aries, nothing has been defined yet. There is no strategy, no identity, no proof. There is only impulse ~ the moment where something moves from being possible to being chosen.

This is why 0° Aries has long been understood as a Creator Point: the origin of will itself.

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*This is a recording from a live call with our paid Substack community on 2/15/2026. The astrology we explore here will remain relevant for months and even years to come.

Audio is also included if you wi…

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There are weeks in astrology that feel atmospheric. And then there are weeks that feel initiatory. February 13 - 20 is initiation.

Within seven days, three major alignments compress into a single corridor:

• February 13: Saturn enters Aries

• February 17: Solar Eclipse in Aquarius

• February 20: Saturn conjunct Neptune at The Creator Point (0° Aries)

This isn’t a repetition of the themes we’ve already explored this month ~ it’s the tightening of them. January clarified capacity, early February softened the heart, and this week removes delay.

Almost everyone I know (myself included), is being confronted right now. Not punished. Not attacked. Confronted.

The procrastination we’ve tolerated. The overthinking we’ve justified. The avoidance we’ve disguised as “processing.” It’s not holding anymore.

Saturn entering Aries closes the era of waiting for permission. The eclipse disrupts the trajectory we thought we were on. And at 0° Aries ~ the Creator Point ~ Saturn and Neptune meet, where something long gestating moves from imagination into motion.

This week asks:

• Are you willing to acknowledge where you’ve been waiting ~ instead of initiating?

• Are you willing to cooperate with the lesson instead of resisting it?

• Are you willing to build from integrity instead of reaction?

Something is tightening, and the tightening is purposeful.

✧ Below, we’ll break down each of these three transits ~ not just what they mean, but what they’re asking of you. ✧

Also for paid subscribers, I’ll be hosting a 60-minute Substack Live on Sunday 2/15/2026 to integrate Neptune’s passage through Pisces, what Saturn has been restructuring since 2023, and how to locate 0° Aries in your own chart as this new chapter begins. Replay included.

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February doesn’t read like a month, it reads like a crossing.

January helped us take stock ~ capacity, honesty and the quiet sorting of what can be sustainably carried forward. February takes that clarity and asks the next question: are you willing to act on it? Not in theory, but in practice.

February opens with a Full Moon in Leo, which lovingly anchors the month’s tone in the heart. Not in the collective, not in the long-term plan…but in the heart. What wants to be expressed? What wants to be seen? Where are you tired of shrinking or contorting yourself to fit a future that was never yours to begin with? It’s an early illumination ~ a reminder that whatever we’re building this year needs to reflect who we actually are, not who we’ve been performing to be.

The month softens as Venus and the Sun move into Pisces ~ this infuses a kind of holy water into the system, not the escapism Pisces can sometimes provoke. This is a return to what’s true, beneath the noise. A return to the part of us that senses alignment, long before the mind can justify it. Compassion deepens. Sensitivity increases. And sometimes that’s inconvenient ~ because we can’t un-feel what we finally feel to be true.

February is not only soft. It’s also sobering.

Saturn enters Aries mid-month and the energetic posture changes: less processing, more responsibility. Aries isn’t interested in rehearsing the future ~ it wants to initiate it. Saturn here feels like a call to self-leadership: what is yours to take responsibility for in your life or relationships ~ without projection? Where are you ready to show up decisively?

And then the eclipse arrives ~ a Solar Eclipse in Aquarius ~ not as chaos, but as correction. Aquarius rewrites the future through the lens of truth: community, networks, belonging, the systems we participate in, and the versions of self we’ve been performing to stay included. Eclipses have a way of making the “almost” life feel less tolerable. They rearrange the timeline by dismantling the assumptions it was built on.

Three days later comes the conjunction we’ve all been feeling in the distance: Saturn meeting Neptune at 0° Aries ~ a rare (once every 2,500 years kind of rare) beginning. This isn’t just “dream big.” It’s build what you believe in. Give your vision form. Let your spiritual knowing become a lived structure. At 0° Aries, the invitation is stark: no more waiting for certainty, no more living on the edge of your own life. Start, even if you start small.

And then ~ right when the month could turn into pure momentum ~ Mercury stations retrograde in Pisces. It’s as if the cosmos insists we don’t rush the sacred. We review. We listen again. We let the dream speak in a quieter language. The month closes with a subtle nodal alignment in Pisces, like a final whisper: this isn’t about how things look. It’s about what’s actually true.

February is the month where the future begins to press on the present ~ not as anxiety, but as initiation. Not everything will be clear yet. But something will be clear: what you can’t pretend anymore. And what you’re ready to take responsibility for ~ because you can feel what’s coming asking for you.

Now, let’s move deeper into February’s astrology ~ a closer look at the specific moments this month asks us to move from clarity into lived responsibility.

✧ February’s astrology forecast, journal prompts & hand-illustrated PDF below ✧

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Neptune enters Aries tomorrow and while this shift won’t announce itself overnight, it is anything but subtle.

When outer (far away) planets change signs, their influence is seismic in scope and slow in unfoldment. Neptune will move through Aries for the next fourteen years, reshaping the collective relationship to belief, purpose, courage and spiritual agency over an entire generation. What begins now will not resolve quickly ~ but it will reorient everything.

For the past thirteen years, Neptune has been in Pisces, its home sign. That era dissolved certainty at every level. It softened boundaries between self and other, intuition and fantasy, faith and illusion. It asked us to feel more, empathize more, surrender more ~ often without giving us clear structures to hold what we were sensing.

Many of us are emerging from that period less attached to old narratives, less convinced by inherited belief systems, and more attuned to the subtleties of energy, emotion and interconnectedness. But Neptune in Pisces also leaves a residue: spiritual fatigue, overwhelm and a tendency to linger in possibility without commitment.

Neptune entering Aries marks a decisive shift.

Aries is the archetype of initiation ~ the will to exist as oneself, to act, to assert presence in the world. Where Pisces dissolves, Aries differentiates. Where Pisces feels into the whole, Aries says this is me. When Neptune crosses this threshold, spirituality stops being something we contemplate and starts becoming something we are asked to live through action.

This doesn’t arrive as instant clarity. In fact, Neptune in Aries can feel destabilizing at first. Vision sharpens, but direction isn’t fully formed yet. There may be a growing restlessness in the body ~ a sense that waiting, deferring or endlessly processing what no longer aligns with where consciousness is moving.

What changes is not what we believe, but what belief now requires of us.

Neptune in Aries asks uncomfortable questions:
Where are you hiding behind ambiguity instead of choosing?
Where are you spiritually awake but practically inert?
Where do your ideals ask for courage rather than refinement?

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This is not impulsive energy. It’s initiatory. It doesn’t reward speed ~ it rewards participation. It asks us to move before certainty arrives, not recklessly, but honestly.

This is where January’s astrology becomes essential context.

All month, we’ve been clarifying capacity ~ what can be sustained, what can’t, what we’re no longer willing to carry forward. January stripped away fantasy not to limit us, but to prepare us. Neptune entering Aries takes that clarity and applies it to desire, direction and will.

You may feel this shift as:
– A reduced tolerance for passivity or spiritual abstraction.
– Discomfort with futures that require self-erasure or endless postponement.
– A clearer awareness of where you’ve been waiting for permission.
– A pull toward beginning something before you feel “ready”.

This is not about confidence. Confidence comes later. This is about courage ~ the willingness to move while the outcome remains undefined.

And this is only the opening act.

In February, Saturn will meet Neptune at the very beginning of Aries, bringing gravity, structure and consequence to whatever begins stirring now. That conjunction will demand form ~ not just vision, but responsibility. Not just inspiration, but architecture.

Today, though, we’re feeling the atmosphere change.

Neptune entering Aries marks the end of spiritual waiting rooms. The end of believing that insight alone is sufficient. The end of imagining futures without asking how they will actually be embodied. What replaces it is more demanding and more alive: spirituality that asks for agency, vision that requires action, a future that cannot be postponed indefinitely.

You don’t need to know exactly what you’re beginning yet. But you may already feel where you can no longer remain unchanged.

That awareness is not pressure ~ it’s initiation. Here’s to our journey into greater coherence :)

With love,

Lily

P.S. Over the next few weeks, this shift will be shaped and clarified by eclipses, Saturn’s entry into Aries and a rare Saturn/Neptune conjunction. I’ll be sharing a deeper, transit-by-transit February overview for paid subscribers later this week :)

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As an astrologer, I can see that 2026 will undoubtedly be an exciting year ~ and by exciting, I mean turbulent, catalytic and charged with immense potential for growth and expansion.

Collectively, this looks like old structures continuing to fall apart. Hierarchical systems that have secured the comfort and safety of a select few, often at the cost of the many, are revealing their deep unsustainability. It’s not that everything suddenly collapses in 2026 ~ it’s that what we’ve been willing to overlook out of convenience for hundreds of years becomes impossible to ignore.

The years 2025 to 2032 have long been prophesized ~ by astrologers, mystics and wisdom keepers ~ as a highly charged window of awakening and dismantling. Within that arc, 2026 hosts several once-in-a-lifetime astrological events. This can sound fantastical or even romanticized, so let me ground us here: in astrology, rarity carries weight.

Astrology is a language of pattern recognition. When we look to history to see what unfolded under similar configurations, we find moments of immense light and shadow ~ wars rooted in freedom and emancipation, like the American Civil War, alongside eras often described as the birth of conscious thought, such as the teachings of the Buddha or Pythagoras. Tremendous beginnings, yes ~ but also a long trail of necessary endings.

Most of you reading this are likely on some kind of spiritual path, already familiar with the understanding that life and death are two sides of the same coin. Nature shows us this endlessly ~ in decay, compost and regeneration. What feels distinct now is that this process is happening at a heightened and accelerated rate, because a new way of operating as a species is pressing to be born.

What is that new way?

It is more conscious. More sovereign. More responsible.

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As we step into a new year, I’m noticing how many people are naming this moment as a threshold ~ not a single doorway, but a long crossing. Across traditions, eras shaped by collapse and becoming have been understood as initiatory ~ not because they promise a specific outcome, but because they ask something different of us.

What feels distinct right now isn’t just what’s happening in the world, but how disoriented many of us feel inside it. Old structures ~ personal and collective ~ are loosening. Familiar narratives don’t quite hold. And the question beneath the noise seems to be the same: “How do we stay oriented when the old maps no longer work?”.

For me, this question has been sharpening my relationship to astrology.

My word for 2026 is clarity ~ clarity of intention, clarity of lens, clarity around what astrology is actually for. Yes, astrology can help us sense the weather patterns of the year ahead. It can offer timing, symbolism and context. But what I’m noticing, more and more, is that the deeper invitation isn’t about peeking around corners to see what will happen ~ it’s about strengthening who we are as we meet what’s happening.

In many spiritual spaces right now, there’s language about a “split” ~ a divergence in consciousness, sometimes framed as fear versus love, or lower versus higher states of awareness. I won’t pretend to fully understand this concept, and I’m not interested in using it to divide the world into camps of those who are “awake” and those who aren’t.

What I do feel, though, is a quiet call toward responsibility ~ not in a moral sense, but in an interpretive one. A sense that how we relate to our lives matters. That the stories we tell ourselves about what’s happening shape how we respond to it. And that empowerment, at its core, is not about controlling outcomes, but about remaining present, resourced, and responsive.

This is where the idea of “life as curriculum” becomes essential for me.

To view life as curriculum is not to say that everything is good, or easy, or meant to happen in a tidy way. It doesn’t erase grief, injustice or pain. Rather, it offers a different frame: that our experiences ~ relationships, endings, illnesses, detours, longings ~ are not random interruptions, but meaningful encounters that ask something of us.

Curriculum doesn’t mean we’re being tested or judged. It means we’re being shaped.

When life is approached as a problem to solve, we tend to rush, optimize, bypass or harden. When life is approached as curriculum, we slow down enough to listen. We ask different questions. Not “how do I get out of this?” but “who is this asking me to become?” Not “what’s going to happen next?” but “how am I meeting what’s here?”.

This is the role astrology plays in my work.

I don’t use astrology to predict outcomes or escape uncertainty. I use it as a symbolic language ~ one that helps us understand the kind of moment we’re in. Astrology offers archetypes, cycles and patterns that give context to experience. It doesn’t remove mystery; it gives us a way to stand inside it with a little more coherence.

In times of transition, meaning becomes a kind of survival skill. Without it, we outsource authority, collapse into fear or grasp for certainty. With it, we’re able to stay present ~ even when the path ahead isn’t clear.

This little online space, and all of my work, exists for that purpose.

Heavenly Bodies is not about quick answers, spiritual bypass or predicting the future. It’s a place for reflection, interpretation and learning how to meet life with trust and reverence. Some pieces here are rooted in astrology. Others are philosophical. All of them are written with the same intention: to offer language for lived experience and to support a more empowered relationship with what is.

If life is curriculum, we don’t rush to graduate ~ we learn how to stay present for the lesson.

• Where in your life are you currently asking “what’s going to happen?” and what changes if you ask instead, “who is this moment asking me to become?”

• What experience in your life right now feels unresolved or uncomfortable and what might it be teaching you about presence, boundaries or trust?

• If you viewed your current season as curriculum rather than interruption, what would you relate to differently?

With love,

Lily

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2026 opens with a quiet authority.

After the emotional clearing and internal restructuring of the past few months, January doesn’t arrive to process or purge. It arrives to orient.

There’s a sense that something has ended and that what comes next will require more of us than imagination alone. The early part of the month still carries Capricorn’s imprint: a grounding back into reality, responsibility and inner structure. The tone is not heavy - it’s clarifying, as we realize what we actually have capacity for (and what we don’t). Fantasy thins out and desires that can’t be carried forward lose their pull.

January asks practical questions first: “What is sustainable? What is honest? What is worth committing to?”.

As the month unfolds, the energy shifts. There’s a noticeable turning of attention toward the future. You may find yourself thinking differently - questioning assumptions you didn’t realize you’d outgrown. Feeling less attached to old identities and more curious about new ways of organizing your life, your work and your relationships. This is a refinement of the internal framework we’ll be living inside of.

January carries a strong mental and energetic recalibration. Conversations sharpen. Insight becomes more strategic. There’s less tolerance for emotional noise and more interest in clarity, coherence and embodied truth.

Near the end of the month, something subtle but unmistakable begins to stir. Not an event, not a breakthrough - more like the first breath of a different atmosphere. We may feel it as restlessness or resolve. It may show up as a quiet urgency to act from a deeper place. A sense that the old rules are no longer binding in the same way. That a new cycle is approaching, and we’ll need to meet it with courage rather than certainty.

January doesn’t ask us to leap just yet. It asks us to prepare our stance. To notice where our inner authority is strengthening. To release what can’t follow us forward. To stop postponing what we already know is aligned.

This is not the birth of a new world - but it is the month where the body and psyche begin to orient toward one.

What you clarify now will matter more than you realize.

Now, let’s walk through January’s key transits - each one a chapter in this month’s unfolding story.

✧ January’s astrology forecast, journal prompts & printable PDF below ✧

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December arrives with a different tone than the past few months. She’s not as heavy as October’s truth-telling (yes - she’s a she). Not as emotionally flooding as November’s dissolving waters. Instead, she carries a quiet clarity - the moment after a long tide has pulled back, when everything is still wet, soft and honest.

We’re standing at the end of a long chapter in our personal and collective story. While we’re still in a liminal space, between what was and what will be, our internal landscape has changed enough so that we can finally feel the shift. There’s room to breathe, alongside a sense that what comes next must be chosen consciously.

One of the biggest themes this month is closure. Not dramatic endings, but subtle ones: old fantasies thinning out, emotional fog lifting, outdated narratives losing their pull. What’s dissolving now has been loosening for years and December brings the quiet knowing of “I can’t go back to that.”

At the same time, there’s a strengthening underway. The energy of the month moves from soft and internal to grounded and practical. It becomes easier to take yourself seriously in a new way - not through pressure, but through alignment. Priorities sharpen. Boundaries feel more natural. What matters rises to the surface without effort.

December teaches a very specific kind of integration: spiritual clarity, emotional truth and grounded choices.

This is where the past year begins to settle into coherence - where the healing, shedding and unraveling of 2025 turns into a sense of inner structure.

December’s work isn’t to push ahead or accomplish more. The year is ending on a note of deeper self-honesty, not exhaustion. An opportunity to recognize how much we’ve changed and to let our lives catch up with our soul.

While this month isn’t loud, it’s defining. It marks the moment before a much larger energetic turning point in 2026, a final clearing of what cannot follow us forward.

Let what’s ending end.
Let what’s settling settle.
And let yourself choose your new reality with intention.

Now, let’s walk through December’s key transits - each one a chapter in this month’s unfolding story.

✧ December’s astrology forecast, journal prompts & printable PDF below ✧

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October stripped us back to truth. What was revealed can’t be unseen. And now, November asks: what will we do with what’s real?

We’re no longer dismantling - the wreckage already surrounds us. Instead, this month initiates the tender, disorienting work of rebuilding: learning how to move forward when the landscape has changed, how to feel steady even as the ground reforms beneath our feet.

This is a month defined by Water and Earth - dissolution and form - learning how the two can coexist. Only what’s true endures. Late-degree activations through Scorpio, Cancer, and Pisces form a potent current - a spiritual undertow pulling us through further dissolution. This is the final rinse before renewal, a baptism for the new self emerging from what’s been shed.

Meanwhile, Taurus becomes our anchor point. Both the Full Moon and Uranus’ return there remind us that stability must be rebuilt from the inside out.

We’re redefining safety, comfort, and control. Uranus’ re-entry into Taurus shows that what once felt secure may no longer hold. Mercury retrograde invites us to rethink truth - to speak from the present, not past-wounding. Jupiter’s retrograde in Cancer turns emotional focus inward, expanding sensitivity while reminding us to nurture what’s real, not idealized. And as Saturn stations direct in Pisces, boundaries, faith, and maturity return to the forefront - the dream still lives, but now it seeks structure.

Between these thresholds, the Taurus Full Moon and Scorpio New Moon mark the dance between holding and surrendering - stability and transformation. Taurus invites us to strengthen our roots even when the environment feels uncertain: to find solid ground within. Scorpio, arriving later in the month, tests that inner steadiness, revealing what’s still ready to transmute.

November is not an exhale; it’s the slow, embodied process of integration.
It’s not about rushing ahead or rebuilding what was - it’s about letting what remains reveal the truth of who we are now.

Now, let’s walk through November’s key transits - each one a chapter in this month’s alchemical story.

✧ November’s astrology forecast, journal prompts & printable PDF below ✧

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