Look, drink your fucking coffee, sit your ass down and let’s talk about Thursday’s absolute copper soaked bloody mess of a sky. The grand finale of this summer’s eclipse corridor, but also sort of a 6th, penultimate installment in a series of 7 hits along the Virgo/Pisces axis.

The gleefully brutal climax to a two-year saga your chart started writing back in September 2024.

We’ve got a Mercury cazimi chiming in with a download of pure clarity right before the emo tsunami hits.. Uranus in Gemini squaring the whole effing sky to yank the tablecloth out from under your life (no, it’s not gonna be one of them yanks where all the glasses and plates remain untouched) and a miserable fight between a fallen Mars in Cancer and a retrograding Saturn in Aries ..aka a direct mirror to that trash heap fire of our current cultural and digital landscape.

Right. Coffee first. Pull up a chair, light something up (palo santo or a spliff, anything that says ‘eclipse energy, off you fuck!’), take a sip..take another…and let’s get into it.

••●••

Total Solar Eclipse in Leo on August 12th opened a roughly two weeks long corridor from a burning stage to dissolving waters of Pisces lunar eclipse.

Leo will crack us open. What feels like an eclipse wound will unstitch itself and August 27th Pisces healing waters will wash away the infection within. That’s the corridor. That is the whole ride.

Right on the eclipse or in its aftermath, step in at any point. Together, we get to walk it in the dark and it won’t be quiet. Think of my latest GUIDED MEDITATION JOURNEY as my extended hand. Someone gently grabbing and squeezing your hand - not to guide you out of the dark, but to let you know that you’re not here alone.

••●••

So, like things have been weird, right? There is a palpable, somewhat electrifying sense of change in the air, not exactly like the other shoe is about to drop, not exactly like we’re about be dealt a good card from the universe. But either way, change seems imminent and exciting to our nervous system, that’s been sedated by a near constant stream of absurdity flowing from the information channels, from the screens, from the people around us, from above down here below. That change might start with something else coming to conclusion today. Because tonight, the lunar eclipse in Pisces is set to finish building a narrative arc in your chart, like for good, so that a writing on a new chapter can begin.

Let’s not lose time and sleep over degrees and dates and historical significance of today’s lunar show. What’s important to know is that tonight’s near total eclipse of the moon doesn’t rise in isolation, it’s a sixth of seven such events along the Pisces/Virgo axis (last one incoming in February 2027) and it all started in September 2024.

In that particular story (and we’ll look at what shape that story took for your rising sign just below), tonight acts as that big badaboom crisis and resolution moment, February 2027 serving as a sort of an epilogue, author’s note.

Let me make it about me for a second. I am a Leo Sun after all…and having my ascendant in Libra means this entire Virgo/Pisces mess has been running through my 6th house and my 12th house..it’s a weird push-pull between the mundane stuff of life…

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So, like, no biggie, but stripped of all the little side quests and the wild up and downs through confusing Neptunean mists that are as thick as porridge, this week’s astrology wants to know just one thing:

What in your life is actually real?

This is not about what your life will eventually become when you tick your way off to the bottom of your to-do list, when you climb over that last career step or when your soulmate finally lands in the place next to you in bed and inside your heart that you keep trying to fill.

This is not about the theater performance of being a functioning adult, but - following the last week’s eclipse, we get confronted with what actually remains when the smoke clears, the ashes fall and you’re left with an empty page waiting to be filled with a new, more authentic story of you.

Monday is a bag of dog shit. A bag of dog shit that’s set on fire. Mars doing things with Neptune. A mess of frustration, gaslighting, conspiracy loops, toxic media echo chambers you didn’t know you still had a place in. And then an occasional spark of genuine inspiration and connection in sextile between Venus and Jupiter. Psychotic.

By Tuesday, Scorpio moon sucker punch you back to reality. Scoprio, of course, is not interested in the polite, in the surface level, in the comfortable excuses..instead, it’s an unflattering mirror to who we actually are, now that the eclipse burned the extra fakey bits off.

But alas! Wednesday gives us a glorious nothing. Nothing ground breaking happens up above, which honestly feels like a fucking miracle lately, and gods willing this is exactly what gets reflected in the down below!

Thursday eases the collective back into the evolutionary test by providing some room to breathe and a perspective that’s interested in the bigger picture, because on Friday, the red unpaid bills envelope arrives in the mailbox of our relationships and in the uncomfortable process of unsealing it, we’ll face up to what we’re giving against what we’re actually getting back.

Saturday pulls the curtains on Leo season with exactly the dramatic flair it deserves, before Sunday’s Sun slumping with exhausted exhale into Virgo - a start of a season with rolled up sleeves, ready to get serious again and fix everything and everyone in sight.

••●••

Total Solar Eclipse in Leo on August 12th opened a roughly two weeks long corridor from a burning stage to dissolving waters of Pisces lunar eclipse.

Leo will crack us open. What feels like an eclipse wound will unstitch itself and Pisces healing waters will wash away the infection within. That’s the corridor. That is the whole ride.

Right on the eclipse or in its aftermath, step in at any point. Together, we get to walk it in the dark and it won’t be quiet. Think of my latest GUIDED MEDITATION JOURNEY as my extended hand. Someone gently grabbing and squeezing your hand - not to guide you out of the dark, but to let you know that you’re not here alone.

••●••

Monday, August 17

Mars square Neptune, Jupiter sextile Venus

Aaand once again, two transits that has absolutely nothing in common will land on the same day this August 17th, totally a Leo move..pile it up baby and watch the spectacle unfold.

I’m talking about Mars-Neptune square hitting at the same time as Venus-Jupiter sextile. You probably can see the dissonance straight away.

Mars in Cancer squaring off with Neptune Retrograde in Aries seems a bit like a natural follow up to that eclipse implosion a few days back, it’s both raw, angry & uncomfortably aggressive…and just plain exhausted, confuzzled, psychotic even.

This is a gaslighting galore, this is being unreasonably worked up over what’s clearly a propaganda, clearly a conspiracy horseshit. You already know that Mars puts fire under our ass, it’s act first and think second (or never) but in Cancer there’s too much feels to really give in to the fire of now.

What Neptune brings to the table is everyone’s 2026 fav modality of moving through life - a bone-deep decision fatigue & just pure fiction dressed up as facts. We might find ourselves saying the thing, even if it’s just through a message. Thinking you are standing your ground and then immediately realizing you have just irreparably hurt someone you love to prove a point that was not necessary to make.

My only word of advice would be…don’t trust your inner voice today, especially if it’s really convincingly urging you to act with passion and resolve. Just do yourself a favor and leave the big decisions on someone else, sometimes later, not today, okay? Your system (and our systems at large) are running on communication noise and a reality distortion fumes and even if it seems like we know exactly where and why we’re going right now, this might very quick turn out to be a wall or a ditch that’s gonna prove very fucking hard to dig yourself out of. Just sayin’ !

Re-adjust your lenses instead to look for the honey-flavored energy of Venus and Jupiter sextile that happens around the same time.

Venus is currently extremely content in Libra and so is Jupiter in Leo and together they will attempt to wash your Mars-Neptune blind red mist anger with some little blessings of gentle moments and genuine connections (even if it’s just a smile from an elderly lady in an infuriatingly slow moving supermarket queue).

Or maybe nature pulls a quiet trick on you. The late sun catches your cat’s eye at just the right angle and suddenly there’s an entire galaxy sitting on your rug. Or maybe a moth lands on your shoe and allows you to inspect its intricate wings pattern and sketch it out in your notebook. Maybe that pattern will inspire a logo for your new Substack writing project.

A small but powerful wink from the above. Don’t miss it!

••●••

Tuesday, August 18

Moon in Scorpio square Pluto in Aquarius, Moon in Scorpio trine Mars in Cancer

I have a specific memory of being about eleven years old and finding my older cousin’s diary in a shoebox under her bed..

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This summer’s been extremely loud.

Sometimes the scream comes as a never-ending to-do list squatting our nervous systems, prodded and fried by heat wave after heat wave. Sometimes it’s the scream of an evening lost to a doomscroll, the scream of increasingly stupid and increasingly dark headlines that we get to scream about at each other, no matter if you’re team hope or a team dread.

Cue in the deafening scream of bills demanding to be paid, rent being due and veggies you swore up and down you’d turn into a delicious meal that nurtures both yourself and your loved ones, grew fuzzy in the fridge. Ready made TV dinner it is than. Again.

This does not feel like a Leo Season and I’ll tell you why.. yes, the fucking eclipses.

All of this super activating, mega triggering noise is being amplified within an eclipse corridor (we walk it from a Total Solar Eclipse in Leo on the 12th until a Partial Lunar Eclipse in Pisces on the 28th), so one would not to be blamed if one somehow forgot to pause, put the hands down from their ears and ask themselves the most important question:

What do you actually feel like underneath it all, and I mean when you’re alone, stripped of the costume(s) that allow you to be a part of a tribe, part of a friend group, part of a work collective, part of cosplaying a functioning adult?

Because that costume, or at least the parts of it that are too tight, that are itchy, that are beyond stitching back together, is being demanded as an effigy to burn under these eclipses, for some of us, the whole structurally unsafe theater building will go with it. Such is the shit that eclipses deal.

And the worst part is - retrospectively - we always get to see how this particular sacrifice turned out to be so great and so crucial for our next evolution… and it’s like - are we meant to now fucking love the chaos and desolation that these astrological purge masters unleash?

I think of the Leo New Moon / Total Solar Eclipse on the 12th August as an opening act to a whole new theater production, that will unfold throughout the next 18 months. That’s because the lunar nodes recently shifted into Leo (South Node aka what we’re releasing) and Aquarius (that’s Lunar Node aka where we’re trying to get), providing a sort of blueprint or a mission statement for the collective and for our individual narrative pivot.

I go into this in obsessive details and investigate how the August transits write themselves into your rising sign’s story here:

The last time we got to embody this Leo/Aquarius axis, most of us were still figuring out how to use MySpace, so what gets cracked open on the 12th will not just be buried under a new slew of bizarre geo-political developments next Thursday.

What comes up is a narrative gravitational point around which other side quest and plot twist will be revolving for more than a year to come.

A lot of it will be about performative ego-first, authentic heart-centered voice last type of posturing, that dominated our social (media) spaces, our politics and sadly often also our one-to-one, human-to-human interactions. Some of this play-acting is getting unsustainably hammy and the Leo Eclipse will not be subtle about pointing that out and drawing curtains on the theatricals, the made up characters that run out of lines, the always lying impostor syndrome that keeps you from fully shinning even in the rooms you feel were built for other people, the storylines that feel inauthentic to who we’ve become whilst the production was already in motion.

And yes, because 2026 has a keen sense of what seems a recreational cruelty, but really is just a zero interest in letting us catch a breath, just 16 days later, the sky serves a second eclipse in Pisces, so whatever cracks appeared in our ego two weeks ago, the walls on that particular performance will get dissolved and the stage washed by the Piscean waters.

Leo will crack us open. What feels like an eclipse wound will unstitch itself and Pisces healing waters will wash away the infection within. That’s the corridor. That is the whole ride.

At its absolute core, this wild-ass portal is just aggressive and relentless love slap from the universe forcing you to burn down the fake shit, forgive your exhausted self and fucking remember already the blinding light you’re capable of, you radiant, unstoppable weirdo!

So cry the ugly tears, scream into your pillow, take up ALL THE space and let the cosmos remake you. We are way too magnificent to keep playing small in a universe this big.

••●••

What the Dark Keeps: A Leo-Pisces Eclipse Meditation is my extended hand. I am walking through this corridor of kaka with you, the whole of humanity is, but sometimes it’s good when someone gently grabs and squeeze your hand - not to guide you out of the dark, but to let you know that you’re not here alone.

I designed this journey to serve no matter which point between (or even in the days leading to) August 12th and the Pisces lunar eclipse at the end of the month, you choose to enter the eclipse hallway. Together, in the dark, we’ll consider what monsters get left behind in the corridor when it finally closes up and what new born truths will light the way forward into the dawn.

Bring your headphones and your unedited and filter free self, the one that lives under the mask and the costume that allows you to safely exist within certain rooms, whilst your soul is quietly screaming in the corner. Leave that shit at the corridor entrance. No one can see you naked in the dark anyway.

The full meditation is free for paying members and available for instant download below.

Membership gets me a coffee (my main driving fuel) and you a deep astrological wisdom, original spellwork, guided meditations, tarot spreads and other useful tools to help you navigate the glorious maze of doom that is 2026.

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(July 22 - August 22)

The performance is over. For some. For parts of our collective that used megaphones to hide the emptiness of their arguments. For parts of ourselves that relied on a combination of a surface glamour and drama to hide what’s truly authentic (and therefor vulnerable) and long ready to be witnessed.

So, this will be a very peculiar Leo Season I’m afraid. And it knows it. And of course - as Leos do - it owns it. It will take you on a wild ride one way or another, given the looming eclipses, you’ll most likely be dragged behind kicking & screaming and parts of you deemed unsuitable to survive the fun fair ride ahead aka the rest of 2026 maddening astrology, will be left burning away in the dust. Hashtag sad.

Leo Season invented a dramatic entrance to the already packed restaurant followed by a record scratch sound effect. Insert hair flip. Leo Season also gave birth to a dramatic exit - table flipped and a prosthetic leg thrown at your enemy (if you know you know). The symptoms of Leo Season include feeling too hot to handle, being a bit much.. other people’s eyeballs too busy to take in the sheer volume of your performance to actually roll back in a sheer exhaustion of how obnoxiously you take up space. It’s the August heat..and also…THE HEAT as for the readiness to mate..the summer horny force fed by too much skin on display, the coconut scent of a sun lotion, fizzy drinks, that little Bose speaker membrane vibrating somewhere in the grass and wasps gathering at the pools of melted ice lollies and water melon vodka cocktails served in plastic cups.

After the anxious oversharing and overprocessing of information in Gemini Season and the highly sensitive turn inward to nest and protect our cubs in Cancer Season, Leo usually struts in to teach us a thing or two about where we are too much and why it’s ok to be like that and what glorious gifts awaits those who forget to tend to the fantasies of others about who and how we’re meant to be.

The reckless act of being revealed, the holy audacity of being witnessed and the sacred arrogance of standing unmasked. In the light. In the loving gaze of a Leo, who above all, rewards authenticity.

But this year, the strut is somewhat weighted down by dragging a heavy weight astrology into the story. The season opens with nodal change. South Node - aka what we’re collectively asked to release, sits with the Sun at Leo. The ego shit has to go. The autocracy, the rule of a vapid narcissistic class of performers..and please, Trump is not a politician, it’s a very bad low IQ burned up TV persona, why the fuck did we lift him up to a throne? Yep, the nodal shift issues a red letter notice - that shit is not allowed anymore.

North Node in Aquarius suggests that the next 18 months, we’re waking up from a fever dream of fascist clowns running the show and looking for authentic local heroes, the dreamers, the real changemakers to lead the way out of the smoke of the desolation that 2026 turned out to unleash.

The solar elcipse on the August 12th & the partial lunar eclipse later in August will help. Eclipses are ruthless and necessary. They are a molotov cocktail curveball, a flash wild fire, meteor impact..and they will help put an abrupt end to the hollow performances that somehow got to infect our zeitgeist and make this frankly the stupidest timeline to be alive.

But you know, the usual applies, it’s never just fire and brimstone with all hope being lost. "A day may come when the courage of men fails... but it is not this day.".., yes, that’s Gandalf. The sky does not hand us more than we can bare and the eclipses won’t incinerate the building without clearly marking the safe exit points first. So, below I’ll mark those doors for you. Doors that are transits - both jarring and helpful. Doors that are also chapters in the unfolding story of Leo Season and as dictated by tradition here - beyond the paywall, we’ll investigate how these chapters write themselves into your own rising sign’s narrative.

Grab a watermelon cocktail or three and let’s fucking go!

Leo Season is attending a summer wedding & finding yourself at the end of a long table with people you haven’t really seen in years and realizing - through a few jokes that painfully did not land - you might have been performing a well rehearsed version of yourself to an unsuitable audience and that there was a different, simpler & more approachable version of yourself you allowed yourself to forget, a version that people who know you a while long to see again.

Leo Season is the absolute terror of vulnerability after you’ve done the thing. You stand in the kitchen, palms clammy and ice cold, after you’ve hit send on that first completed draft, after you’ve said the thing - raw and unedited. You did that before second-guessing caught up with you and whoa, is this morifying but also somehow electric? It’s the spontaneity hangover, the embarrassment comedown that’s also simultaneously pregnant with potential!

Leo Season is - with this specific eclipse game board setup - is the moment you stop running frm that D&D big boss, you stop hoarding elixirs & artifacts and just turn around to face that shit. It’s that split second decision to stop being safe and create a scene that everyone will remember forever, even if the Dragon Lord obliterates you.

There’s a power in a power move like that. You might just discover that the dragon’s breath only burns away the armor, the costume, the cosplay of it all … not the person underneath.

••●••

Right at the start of this story, the genre flips. 26th August, lunar nodes change signs. Think similar to what It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia does with each new season. Or American Horror Story (are they fucking bringing the witches back, or what?! I need to know! Balenciaga!!!). Every year and a half, the coordinates on the GPS of fate reshuffle, prepping a new 18 months journey with new dragon bosses to slay (south lunar node points out what we’re releasing) & a new treasure to be located and looted (north node indicates a new direction on the map and what little and big evolutions are to be made for our personal and collective up-leveling).

The North Node in Aquarius will asks us to figure out why and how the collective good, the local community, the good changes we make in our immediate environment might be a way forward out of the shadows of our current timeline, rather than relying on the false promises of those who bought their way to the top of the power pyramid, built a spaceship to fuck off and leave us all fighting for scraps on the planet they looted into oblivion. Terrible necessary shi(f)t. And as if you needed more D&D sounding shit - the lord of the underworld sits directly on this point of destiny. Pluto, also in Aquarius, giving this journey a flavor of a total & revolutionary dismantling of how power is organized in this realm. Yeehaa, bring it on!

South Node in Leo is leave the performance the fuck behind. Whatever is built for applause only, whatever is in-authentic and made for appearances, whatever is screaming loud to cover for the hollow center, whatever and whoever is not of real substance, real warmth that comforts rather than burns. Real confident and heart-centered ego that gets shit done, that is not running on the fumes of external validation.

The nodes travel through each sign for 18 months at a time and come back to the same coordinates approximately every 18 years. So, you most likely have been doing this quest before. December 2007 to August 2009, May 1989 to November 1990. If you were born within these timeframes, you’re having a nodal return, which is the Cave Master (ok, ok, I’ll stop here with the D&D) tapping your forehead, palm outstretched, wanting to investigate your character chart, double and tripple checking you are actually playing the type of character with the type of destiny within the type of scenario that you’ve been sent here to complete.

Then a very Leo thing happen..instead of letting you breathe and spacing out two big big badaboom events - Jupiter Cazimi in Leo and a Full Moon in Aquarius - they are served on the same day, a fucking Wednesday.

29th July, Jupiter aka the planet of more more more gets purified, recharged, system updated to the latest version in the creative fires of Leo Sun.

The story it tries to install into your book of life is of owning your weird and wonderful. All of it. Of placing a crown upon your own head. Of creativity, visibility, leadership, confidence you can own & healthy ego you can drive up the hill towards the expansion made possible through all of the above. Wednesday is a fucking glorious inception of a side quest unfolding over the next full year. Notice this energy and try learn to wield it, unapologetically because there ain’t no other way with Jupiter. And with Leo.

And then to insert a bit of drama, the full moon is doing it’s thing, aka blasting some Plutonian radiation (Pluto in Aquarius plays a huge kind of a villain role here) onto the eclipse stories that started back in February, with the solar eclipse in Aquarius.

So, think back with me to the February this year. The eclipse has uncovered something, didn’t it. It might have abruptly cause something to crash and a new course corrected destination been installed into your internal GPS navigation system. So during this highly merciless Full Moon in Aquarius, the light will fall into the corners where something festered, where mold grew and rot might have set in.

Masks fall of, costumes burn away, set pieces collapse. This smells like power dynamics catching fire, this sounds like an uninvited intervention & looks like crossing a threshold of no return (that’s Pluto’s contribution, what’s done cannot be undone). The full moon-Pluto conjunction possibly manifests as a certain direction in your life (and our collective story), certain relationship, maybe a career, a project you’ve been defending for two years out of habit but with no passion, something that definitely crawled into that corner to die a while ago being illuminated and the universe - far from being cruel just for the love of the drama - hands you some useful tools at the same time to clean up and sanitize that shit.

Because a construction of something that will actually last, that will keep you safe in the battering shitstorms of our current maddeningly idiotic timeline, can only start when the foundational rot is dealt with first. Courage, pipsqueak!

👑 ♌ ☀️

My Leo Season meditation was crafted to allow you to consecrate your own little spot in the sun light, reminding you of your own inherent power that’s a combo of your authentic voice, your courage to expose your heart to the sky. And the deep wisdom to recognize this as an ultimate act of trust and power, not weakness.

August is a fire siren instead of your usual morning alarm. Amplified by Jupiter, a Total Solar Eclipse in Leo on August 12th is a flamethrower to the spectacle of ego-horrors that run the current global shitshow. This is rage quitting. Pivots that are gloriously dramatic and necessary. Around August 17, Mars-Neptune square plunges the still smoldering pile of horseshit under water and we momentarily lose the sense of which way is up. But at the same time, Venus & Jupiter go about kissing on each other & it’s that sweet sweet glimmer of hope, The Star in tarot - first flicker of something new being born seen through the smoke of The Tower that’s been struck down by lightning. A promise of something softer, a new opportunity born in that angry-red haze of Mars, in those Neptunian mists of confusion.

And it wouldn’t be a Leo if it did not go out in style - the Sun pulls a curtain on this whole spectacle in 29th degree of Leo on August 22 - your last chance to impress me and save yourself from elimination. DON’T FUCK IT UP!

When the Sun exhaustedly slinks off into Virgo, gasping for some healing through order, you will be changed. Maybe simplified but simple means not primitive. Simple often means more authentic, so the Leo would have taught you their most profound lesson.

Below, just a little skip pass the velvet rope which is a VIP lounge area reserved for those incredibly kind readers, who treated me to a coffee through subscribing, we’ll glean some further wisdom through those August transits & take a close look at how Leo Season 2026 writes itself into your own rising sign’s story.

What type of plot twists the lunar nodes, the eclipses, the Mars-Neptune square, the Venus-Jupiter sextile and the final battle of Sun and South Node conjunction prepped for your August chapter!

••●••

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The shift is undeniable..a jarring sort of juxtaposition being spit out of the emo-soup of Cancer season after treading the swampy waters with Mercury retrograde tied to our ankles, right onto the sun-drenched shores (or rather a stage?) of Leo.

The relief should be exhilarating, followed with realizing how thirsty we got for some fucking well-earned attention, for adventure and authenticity and love that’s loud & proud & showy in the best of ways. But here’s the thing..this years Leo season, like pretty much everything else on this weirdass stopover point in human history, will sound different.

It’s Madonna (obviously a Leo herself) releasing her album Music in 2000 and then doing a sharp turn in American Life a few years later (I guess also marked by the incredible global plot twist the attack on the US in September 2001 started). The same Leo but two incomparably different listening experiences.

The nodes just shifted on us - North Node pointing towards Aquarius, South to Leo.

This is a new season’s dramatic arc, the new genre for a collective storyline. The performative, loud, strongmen bullshit that’s all ego and no substance to back it up is on a way out. Bye, fascists!

The real heroes to the front. The previously unsung mavericks, who’ve been put on this planet to build something good, something lasting, something for us all, not just the pink-armed gun and Bible-wielding so called patriots. This will show in your own personal narrative depending on which parts of your chart are carried by Aquarius and which parts are pinched under the exquisitely manicured lion’s paw. We will, of course, look at that closely later on.

And yes, in 2026, the world and the astrology (one being the reflected image of the other) has zero chill, so within the usually quite carefree and expansive Leo season, we’ve been dealt the fucking eclipse card too. Oh yeah, and Jupiter entered Leo not so long ago, Jupiter of course magnifying everything ad absurdum, the blessings, the egoes, and also the eclipse mess.

I have Sun in Leo, so take it from me…the whole lighting up the room by authentically taking up space, the fact there might not be a warmer feeling than being held in a loving gaze of a Leo (we will bring you the Sun and the Moon and the whole fucking galaxy if you’re lucky enough for us to decide and commit to you), the open heart, the healing magic of strutting confidently and unappologeticaly forth in a holy fight for what is good and what is right…all of that.

Mamdani is a Leo rising.

But so is Trump.

The same coin flipped sideways reveal a narcissistic over-fed and out of control ego that sets the world on fire. That legendary confidence that’s earned and uplifting sours into performance covering for insecurity. Bravery turns craven, generosity curdles into selfishness.

So this year, in my writing and via this guided meditation journey, we’ll lean into a softer kind of power. The power our voice carries through authenticity, not volume..a little fist bump under the table when our argument lands and when we realize we’ve actually been heard (radical!) and considered. And a little wink in a mirror even though the hair is a wild frizzy mess, but all we see reflected back is a hero - not because we’re about to join the No Kings march in the street, but because we got up at all and committed an outrageous act of bravery to just march through another day in this fuckedup chapter for humanity that 2026 shaped up to be.

That bravery could have easily just started with allowing your eyes to close and your spirit to dance for a bit, taking those vulnerable feelings and glorious hard-won scars, weaving them into a fabulous fucking outfit. Uniquely yours. And worn with the pride of a victorious warrior.

The full meditation is free for paying members and available for instant download below.

It’s crafted to allow you to consecrate your own little spot in the sun light, reminding you of your own inherent power that’s a combo of your authentic voice, your courage to expose your heart to the sky. And the deep wisdom to recognize this as an ultimate act of trust and power, not weakness.

Membership gets me a coffee (my main driving fuel) and you a deep astrological wisdom, original spellwork, guided meditations, tarot spreads and other useful tools to help you navigate the glorious maze of doom that is 2026.

Read more

This week when Cancer moves out of the way of too bright and too loud Leo, Jupiter and Sun are doing their thing to draw us out of those safety ne(s)ts we built in Cancer Season.

And listen, that nest was doing its job. It kept you fed, kept you soft, kept you from doing anything stupid while you healed. But nests aren’t meant to be permanent addresses. They’re meant to be launch pads.

This week the universe stops asking nicely and starts shoving.

It kicks off on Monday the 20th July with some genuinely rare cosmic weather, the kind astrologers wait years to talk about. That’s Jupiter trining delulu-ruler Neptune (put that on a t-shirt), locking eyes with your deepest dreams and wildest ideas, while Jupiter also opposes Pluto, dragging your oldest wounds into the room at basically the same time.

Translation: your imagination gets a serious upgrade, but so does your temptation to reopen fights that should stay buried. Don’t. Rehashing old grudges right now is like reheating gas station coffee. Technically possible, deeply unwise.

Instead, use the Neptune high for something concrete: write the unhinged journal entry, storyboard the thing you’re too embarrassed to say out loud yet. Let the dream stay a dream for a beat longer before you have to defend it to anyone.

Because growth is very much the assignment. Jupiter sextiles Uranus early in the week (21st July), practically begging you to try on a version of abundance you’ve never touched before. New income stream, new creative medium, new way of asking for what you want. Whatever it is, it lives outside your usual playbook. This is good. This is an uncomfortable scary place where incidentally the biggest magic happens too.

Concrete move: say yes to the weird invite, pitch the idea that feels slightly unhinged, price yourself higher than feels comfortable. This transit rewards people who act and are not too chicken shit about change, not people who journal about wanting and waiting for change.

Then the Sun struts into Leo mid-week and honestly, thank god. After a month of feelings and self-protection, we get a season built for main character energy. Wear the thing. Say the bold thing. Let yourself be witnessed. This is vanity, yes, but vanity gets a bad rep for literally no reason but make us endlessly doubt & rethink our own brilliance. A little vanity goes a long way as a necessary recalibration. If you’ve been hiding your work, your face, your voice, this is your cue to stop.

Mercury also finally stations direct on Thursday 23rd right back in tender, vulnerable Cancer. So whatever got tangled in your head or your texts these past few weeks starts loosening. Say the honest thing. Send the message you drafted four times.

A day later, Mercury sextiles Venus, sweetening communication even further, so use it to reconnect with your people instead of just clearing your inbox. Text the friend. Say the soft thing out loud. The end of this week is just dripping with honey, honey. Indulge! Be bold in expressing your feels, vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness!

Sunday is like really wild… Saturn stations retrograde in Aries, which is basically the cosmos asking, are you actually disciplined or just busy? Good moment to really check yourself where your hustle and your actual goals have quietly stopped matching up. Cut one commitment that’s draining you for the sake of momentum alone. And edit! Ruthlessly aka the Saturn way.

This happens along the real headline of the whole week, also hitting us at the tail end of it.. The North Node shifts into Aquarius and the South Node into Leo and officially launches a new destiny avenue for the collective and our own individual storyline.

We’re trading in main-character worship for something more collective. From a autocratic strongmen dictating what book is blacklisted to a community-run library that actually allow kids to read and dream, even if the fairy tale book features two princesses falling in love. Don’t hold your breath for a triumphant victory scream for liberal and humane just yet, though. Sunday is just an inception of change, the change has 18 months and many ups and downs to manifest through.

The next chapter is less about idolizing one hero and more about everyone doing their part. so maybe use this literally: find the group project, the collective, the cause bigger than your own brand. Find platforms that make you feel like making a change, like bettering yourself and the world without it having to show on your monthly bank account statement.

Fitting, then, that the same day the Sun opposes Pluto, calling for a drop in the performance and a return to what’s real, because the truer you shows up, the more power you actually hold. Authenticity forward!

So yeah. Loud season, tender heart, real growth.

Wear the crown & keep the receipts honest.

👑 ♌ ☀️

If you want the real tea on how this chaotic final stretch of July rearranges your specific life and not just the collective vibe, that's what my Cancer Season deep dive is for. I go rising sign by rising sign through exactly which house all this Leo mayhem is currently wrecking or blessing for you, plus how it ties off every loose thread Cancer Season left dangling.

🌿✨❤️‍🔥

It’s not about floating away from the world’s problems. It’s a training ground for the revolution in your own nervous system. It’s a space to practice the dangerous act of paying attention to the small, good things. It asks a question:

What if pleasure wasn’t indulgence, but insurrection?

We’ve been trained to distrust joy. To fear peace. To accept struggle as the baseline.

F*ck that.

The Rebellion of Delight is my invitation to dismantle that fear.

Huge thanks for reading this far. Appreciate your eyeballs! If this helped or just made you feel less alone in the chaos, pass it on. Help the spell spread.

If I managed to sprinkle a little magic on your day, consider please doing a little clickitty click on monthly subscription (cancel any time) to fuel both my creativity and your access to a treasure trove of astrological guidance, meditations, workshops, original tarot spreads, spell work and more!

Grab my hand, as we run blindly into the sudden, volatile, yet exhilarating astrological flash storm of 2026 together !

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What do you do when the good news comes and your first instinct isn't joy, but dread?

We’re in the thick of Cancer season, and yes, Mercury is retrograde, but this time around it feels different. Less misbehaving technology and passive-aggressive group chats, more random memories and seemingly done-and-dusted storylines popping back up through dreams and random flashes of insight out of nowhere. That’s the Cancer work, it’s not here to fry your Wi-Fi, it’s here to make you stare at the ceiling a 2am remembering the half finished song someone who doesn’t know your full name anymore wrote about you back when you still thought you’ll grow old together. It seems random, but it’s a design.

With July 4th’s most-screamed-about Mars-Uranus conjunction gone without any major nuclear events (proverbial or literal) shaking up our already stupidly violent timeline, and Jupiter in Leo making us feel both bold but also somewhat dazed in the heatwave after heatwave, and Venus swapping Leo’s look-at-me energy for practical, let’s-get-shit-done, slightly less glamorous Virgo, mid-summer might feel like a slow kind of nothingburger of developments.

Something is still breaking, geopolitically, planetary, pick your poison, but right now it almost feels like alright alright, more of the same on repeat every day, let’s sit this particular crisis of the day out.

You’ll be glad to know that’s the pre-eclipse quiet before the storm. So yes, I come to you today with a gentle reminder to lean in. To use this time. To tread still waters consciously. Deliciously.

I have a confession to make, just between you and me.

A few months back, I got an email that should have made me pop champagne. It was the kind of career news you screenshot and send to your mom, the kind that validates years of thankless grinding in the content mines. It’s a fuck yeah, I was right all along type of moment, a complete flashstorm hitting a scorching desert out of the blue (yes, that desert is my paid writing opportunities) and here I am - reading, re-reading, my heart doing its frantic, hummingbird thing in my chest.

But the feeling wasn’t elation. It was the cold, metallic taste of pure dread. My first thought wasn’t: “Yes! I did it!” followed by a BBC sound effect library-perfect champagne pop. It was: “Oh god, this is the part where they realize I’m just three kids in a trench coat pretending to be an adult.”

I spent the next hour not celebrating, but actively mapping out every possible way this good news could curdle into a spectacular public failure. By the mid-afternoon, I could list all the reasons why albeit a flattering offer, this came in the worst possible time & saying yes would require moving mountains.

It would mean leaving home for a few weeks & there’s just not enough time to plan accordingly, so tough titties. Dream on, beautiful dreamer. Wasn’t meant to be…

My desperation to find an excuse to sabotage the good thing that hit me out of nowhere was so great, I kid you not: one of my totally legit reasons as for why not saying yes to this amazing offer was - if I leave right now, who will pick up the Vintage order package that’s meant to arrive next week (my husband is fully capable and more often than not asked to that anyway) AND my cats will forget my face (they don’t care).

I know…

I sabotaged my own victory before it even had a chance to land.

And I bet you know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?

It’s that gremlin that whispers in your ear when someone you’re dating is kind, attentive & emotionally available - and you immediately think, “What’s the catch? What do they want from me? Oh god, I’m inside my own Dirty John storyline & they will make podcasts about me!”

It’s the full-body flinch that happens when a stranger offers a genuine compliment, compelling you to deflect it with self-deprecation as if it were a live grenade. (If like me, you spent anytime living in the UK, this is possibly still your default modus operandi.)

We have become a culture that is profoundly, deeply terrified of good things. We are fluent in the language of anxiety and cynicism, but when it comes to receiving joy, we are barely literate.

With our phones acting as little black mirrors of endless global horror, a moment of personal peace can feel like a profound moral failure. We’ve joined a tribe of the righteously anxious, where the price of admission is a constant, low-grade hum of despair - or currently RAGE.

Human identity is forged in the crucible of a fundamental paradox. From our earliest conscious moments, we are subject to two powerful, contradictory commands: first, to belong, and second, to be unique.

Do you remember those moments in our early teens? The awkward fumbling as we tried on different personality outfits, desperate to fit in somewhere - goth kids, jocks, mean girls, theater kids, stoners, nerds… Finding a place within a tribe tells you who you are. It tells you how you speak, what you wear, where you hang out.

There is a safety in belonging - we are, of course, conditioned to slot ourselves within a supportive group, because doing this messy ride through life alone is just not an option. From an evolution standpoint, that means peril.

And then, just as you drunkenly but blissfully stumble through and out of your twenties with a better idea of who you are, the script flips entirely. The cultural imperative changes. Suddenly, you are bombarded with platitudes insisting that your ‘weirdness is your superpower’. That the very things which once marked you for exclusion are, in fact, your greatest assets.

The evidence seems compelling: the ridiculed nerds and ostracized loners of a previous generation are now the titans of our world. We are told to look to the ascendant figures of Bezos, Musk, Zuckerberg, even that alien doomlord Peter Thiel. They are presented as the ultimate proof that individuality wins. But here lies the final, cruel twist of the paradox.

In achieving this apotheosis of the outsider, they have once again found themselves utterly alone, so far removed from the rest of humanity by the sheer scale of their wealth and power that they might as well be extraterrestrials. They (still) don’t belong.

So, it seems that embracing your radical weirdness isn’t the simple answer either. It’s just another kind of isolation, proving there is no single, simple recipe for navigating the chasm between fitting in and standing out.

Humans are made to thrive in company. The whole blue zone longevity secret really does come down to good fats & community. Having a place within your tribe. And in the tribe of the chronically online and socially conscious, the uniform is often outrage. The language is one of crisis.

To admit to feeling blissful feels like you’re breaking the rules, like you’ll be kicked out of the club for not taking the state of the world seriously enough.

As the great writer and psychoanalyst Clarissa Pinkola Estés wrote:

We choose the tribe & in doing so, we exile the part of ourselves that just wants to feel the sun on its face.

So we learn to flinch from goodness. We’ve become deeply, profoundly afraid of it.

This fear of receiving goodness runs deeper than just social pressure. A few months ago, a dear friend looked me dead in the eye and gave me a compliment so generous, so full of love, that I almost fell over. My immediate, visceral reaction was not gratitude. It was panic. I started deflecting, making jokes, minimizing.

Also a familiar tic, I bet.

I was trying to hand the gift back as fast as possible, like it was a hot coal.

Why are we taught that struggle is noble and ease is suspicious. We’re conditioned to believe that anything we haven’t bled for isn’t truly earned. Honorary shout out to my dear parents. There’s a saying in Czech I have had drilled in me my whole childhood. It goes: Bez práce nejsou koláče!

This literally translates as: No work, no pies! But in more nuanced way you could say: You can’t have pie without rolling the dough, or If you don’t knead it, you don’t eat it.

And sure, there’s truth in that, effort does matter. But somewhere along the way, the proverb stopped being a gentle reminder to contribute and turned into a moral decree that joy must be rationed, pleasure must be “paid for” - usually in advance - and anything that comes with ease is either undeserved or a trap.

We’ve been sold the idea that life’s sweetness only counts if it’s sprinkled over the blistered hands and sleepless nights of our own labor. Which is funny, because nature doesn’t seem to operate on that principle at all. Fruit grows on trees without them clocking in a 9-to-5.

Yet here we are, clutching our metaphorical pies like they’re forged medals of endurance, instead of remembering that sometimes, things can simply arrive: ripe, generous, and without a receipt of suffering stapled to them.

🌿✨❤️‍🔥

It’s not about floating away from the world’s problems. It’s a training ground for the revolution in your own nervous system. It’s a space to practice the dangerous act of paying attention to the small, good things. It asks a question:

What if pleasure wasn’t indulgence, but insurrection?

We’ve been trained to distrust joy. To fear peace. To accept struggle as the baseline.

F*ck that.

The Rebellion of Delight is my invitation to dismantle that fear.

Perhaps in the forever accelerating shitstorm of happenings, where each day seems like another piece of irreversible and terrible history is being written, we’ve forgotten that, as the Persian mystic Rumi said, sorrow is meant to prepare you for joy. It does not exist in vacuum, as a punishment, as a constant sensless assault.

We’ve gotten so used to the sweeping that we bolt the door when a new guest arrives. So here are some little ways to keep that door wide open - through sacred acts of noticing, by relishing the small gods of everyday miracles, and by actively hunting for beauty in a world that some stupid fucking nerds have set on fire.

If you have your own little cheat codes at hand: your secret handshake with the Universe, your ways of sending out positive energy even (or especially) when the going gets tough, please share them in the comments.

Let’s lift each other up!

A Feral Field Guide to Receiving Goodness

So how do we begin this rebellion? How do we unlearn a lifetime of flinching and start building the muscle of reception? I’m not going to lie to you, this is a very much three steps forward, two steps back - type of situation. It won’t take shape of a neat little switch you flip. It’s a clawing, stumbling, come-back-to-yourself kind of practice, fail, remember to try again, feel too exhausted to try, but doing it anyway, and repeat.

It’s choosing the other way, again and again, until it worms its way into your bones and becomes the only way you know.

Here’s what I’ve been messing with. Maybe it’ll spark something in you too. Take what serves and fill the rest with joyous acts of rebellion that are supremely yours.

🌿

Practice the Art of the Tiny “Thank You”

Start small. The next time someone tosses you a compliment: “I like your shirt”, “You made a good point in that meeting”..your only job is to resist the urge to deflect. No “Oh, this old thaaang?”. No “It was nothing.” Just take a breath, look them in the eye and say: “Thank you.” RADICAL!

Feel the weird, vulnerable heat of that. When my good friend complained she gained some weight I automatically went to: ‘Are you insane? You look great!’, to which she immediately reminded me: ‘I know I do, that’s not what I said.’ GULP. Right on, though! More of this flavor of altruism, please.

Marinate in the urge to take it back and apologize. That awkward burn in your chest is your nervous system making new tracks in the snow. That’s the feeling of a new neural pathway being forged. It’ll feel like hell at first (again - doubly so if you happen to be British). Do it anyway.

👁️

Go on a Beauty Hunt

Five minutes a day. That’s all. Hunt for something beautiful and let it hit you in the ribs. Extra points if you leave your infernal phone behind. Extra extra points if you take it with you, and manage to ignore it for the full duration of your beauty hunt. No posting, no picking it apart, just take it in. The sun bleeding through rusted fire escape bars. The obscene fractal on a dead leaf. Let it feed you like you’ve been starving. Let your eyes drink until they’re drunk.

This is you teaching your gaze to linger, to gorge itself on what’s quietly miraculous. This is you sharpening your vision into a blade that can cut through the algorithm of despair.

And then, maybe do something with it. Not in the sense of “monetize” or “share”. I said it before - we need to end the tyranny of hysterically attempting to convert every simple moment of joy into content, every skill we’re developing, every talent we’re blessed with into a stable income.

I mean: let it leak. Let that fragment of beauty bleed into the way you stir your tea, the way you answer an email, the way you touch someone’s arm when they’re speaking. Let it tint your voice with something softer, or sharper, or more alive.

The point isn’t to hoard beauty like some dragon with a Pinterest board. It’s to let it compost inside you until it grows strange new roots, roots that push through your daily life, breaking up the concrete of habit. Maybe it changes the way you listen. Maybe it makes you slower to judge. Maybe it just lets you smile like you know a secret no one can scroll past. Whatever it does, let it.

⏳

Reverse-Engineer a Good Memory

Pick a moment when joy was stupidly pure, when you didn’t second-guess it. Don’t just remember it, crawl back inside it. What did your shoulders feel like? Your breath? Was there a buzz under your skin? Spend 60 seconds in the re-creation. You’re teaching your body that joy is not some long-lost dialect, it’s your mother tongue. (Pssst, I crafted a meditation journey around this embodiment practice - see above.)

And then, keep the translation alive. Let that remembered body-language sneak into today’s version of you. Walk into the grocery store with the same easy shoulders. Make dinner with the same slow, unhurried breath. Let the hum under your skin ripple out in the way you greet the cashier or text your friend back.

This is the trick: the more often you rehearse it, the less it’s a memory and the more it’s a muscle. One day, without even trying, you’ll notice you’re standing in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday and your body is already speaking fluent joy.

✨

Schedule a “Useless” Delight

Put something on your calendar this week that has no productive purpose whatsoever. It’s not self-improvement. It’s not a networking opportunity. It’s just for the sheer, unadulterated delight of it.

Lie in the grass and watch the clouds. If an ant gets tangled in the jungle of your forearm hair (guilty), lift it right in front of your eyes and watch him find a way out and free himself, macro-lense style. I promise you, there will hardly be more fascinating POV to have today…or maybe prove me wrong! Find many more like this!

Go sit in a café and stare at strangers’ shoes, inventing their secret lives with every step. Make a playlist of the songs you worshipped at fifteen and let them shred you beautifully from the inside out. Mine? Higher by The Cardigans. Perfect Indian by Sinéad O’Connor. Songs that taste like bruises and sunlight at the same time.

Let yourself remember the feral pulse of being young, untethered & completely alive.

The saying goes: “The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time” and I swear this is a gospel. This is a radical act of anti-capitalist pointlessness - a tiny rebellion against the tyranny of “do more, earn more, become more”.

It’s the part of you that refuses to apologize for existing just to savor the fizz of life before it’s corralled into spreadsheets and checklists. And when you do it, really do it, even for fifteen minutes, the world feels different. Like you’ve cracked open a secret door and smelled the air on the other side. So schedule it. Guard it. Throw everything else in the bin for a while.

You deserve this delicious, useless rebellion. If it becomes a tradition, a non-negotiable weekly meeting with the Self, even better.

Your joy is not a finite resource you’re stealing from someone else. It is a wellspring. When you are full, you have more to offer. When you are nourished, you have the strength to show up for the fight.

Your happiness is not a betrayal of the world’s suffering. It is a defiant act of hope in the face of it. As my personal hero, the great Maya Angelou taught us, her mission was not merely to survive, but to thrive and to do so with passion and compassion.

Let’s end with an invitation from the poet Lucille Clifton. a question that feels like the most important one we can ask ourselves and each other right now. In her poem, she builds a life for herself without a model, out of “starshine and clay” and then she turns to us and asks:

Every day you are still here, still breathing, still capable of feeling the sun on your face, is a victory. It is a miracle worth celebrating. So please, the next time that perfect, golden moment finds you, don’t flinch. Don’t apologize.

Take a breath and let it in. Let it land. Let it nourish you.

It is the most courageous, rebellious & sacred thing you can do. The mystic poet Hafiz knew that the light we seek is already inside us, calling it “the astonishing light of your own being”.

Let it fucking shine.

Huge thanks for reading this far. Appreciate your eyeballs! If this helped or just made you feel less alone in the chaos, pass it on. Help the spell spread.

If I managed to sprinkle a little magic on your day, consider please doing a little clickitty click on monthly subscription (cancel any time) to fuel both my creativity and your access to a treasure trove of astrological guidance, meditations, workshops, original tarot spreads, spell work and more!

Grab my hand, as we run blindly into the sudden, volatile, yet exhilarating astrological flash storm of 2026 together !

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Okay but genuinely, what in the actual hell is going on right now, and more importantly, how are you holding up?

Let’s be real. The vibe out there is a paradox this year. It’s a lot, it’s both tiring and confusing and I’m genuinely this close to fire up one of those fucked up AI chatbots to tell me what to feel.

We’re deep in the emotional, weepy, let-me-just-stay-home-and-rewatch-Fleabag-for-the-ninth-time swamp of Cancer Season, and on June 29th, the sky also marched Jupiter into Leo for the next twelve months. No memo was exchanged between the two planets about how deranged that timing is.

One transit wants you in the dark with your childhood diary. The other wants you on a stage you didn’t audition for, fully lit, mic already hot. They did not consult each other. They did not consult us either.

Anyone else inexplicably turning into an insecure, anxiously attached mess of a partner/friend/neighbor one minute, and mid-way through drafting an unhinged, borderline-feral reply-all the next?

Anyone else keep waking up from dreams filled with betrayal from loved ones, carry that hurt into their coffee order, and then somehow also finally send the blunt text you’ve drafted and deleted nine times, before you’ve even finished the coffee?

Yep. That’s the season. Mercury turned around and started walking backward through the one sign built specifically for remembering, right as Jupiter strutted into the one sign that has never once looked back at anything in its life.

We’re being asked to excavate our entire emotional inheritance and simultaneously take up more space than we’ve dared to in years.

The other day I found myself weeping at a video of a baby bat being fed a tiny piece of watermelon, whilst taking a break from drafting a ruthless, take-no-prisoners email to a client who was late on a payment, and if that isn’t the perfect encapsulation of our current astro-weather, I don’t know what is.

We’re all marinating in the deep, gooey, heart-on-our-sleeve feelings of Cancer Season, only to be sucker-punched by the stark, sobering reality check of the Capricorn Full Moon.

And then, a few weeks later, handed one unexpected afternoon of actual ease, because Uranus and Pluto decided to trine instead of fight, just so we’d remember what not being at war with ourselves feels like.

This season isn’t offering one polarity. It’s stacking them: soft versus loud, memory versus spectacle, the sudden spark of Mars conjunct Uranus (mark your calendars for July 4th shitshow on the global stage!) versus the slow, undramatic door-closing of Venus meeting the South Node ten days later, the fog of a retrograde Mercury versus one sharp, blinding flash of clarity two days before it, courtesy of Mercury cazimi.

A cosmic demand to be radically soft and brutally efficient, quietly nostalgic and suddenly explosive, sometimes on the same afternoon, occasionally before lunch.

To build a cozy nest for our feelings, but also to be the fucking mountain that nest is built on.

If you want the actual mechanics behind all this instead of just the vibes, I walked through every transit of the season individually, in order and then translated each one sign by sign: what it’s doing to your particular chart, what story all these transits are trying to tell together, and, crucially, how to stop being narrated at and start actually writing the thing yourself.

So how do we hold all of it? How do we honor our squishy, vulnerable, memory-flooded hearts without either dissolving into the swamp or getting crushed under a Leo-sized main-character mandate we didn’t ask for?

That’s the exact question this guided meditation, The Shell & The Mountain, was made to answer.

It’s a journey to build an inner fortress that’s strong enough to weather any storm, but with windows open wide enough to let the moonlight, and this year, a fair amount of Leo sunlight too, in.

This is a quick & practical, soul-deep construction project for the feral hearts who already know that true strength was never about picking a side of the polarity.

It’s about being the shell and the mountain, on the same day, without losing your mind.

Stay soft, stay strong.

🐚🔑

The full meditation is free for paying members & available for instant download below. The monthly membership is equivalent of treating me to a cup of coffee once a month (which, frankly, is what fuels my creativity) & free to cancel anytime, of course.

Membership gives me access to coffee and you the access to deep astrological wisdom, original spellwork, guided meditations, tarot spreads and other potent tools to help you navigate the glorious maze of doom that is 2026.

Read more

(June 21 – July 22)

The Sun slips into Cancer right on top of the Solstice, Mercury turns around and walks backward into the same sign, Mars and Uranus light a match together on the 4th of July for that one big badaboom everyone is already panicking about, and somewhere underneath all of it, a New Moon is quietly planting something nobody remembers agreeing to grow. Let's go feel everything at once, shall we.

There’s a version of this season where everyone just admits they want to be held and we call it a day. That is not the version we are getting.

Cancer Season arrives like the Solstice itself, the longest day of the year tipping immediately, almost rudely, back toward the dark, so that the very moment we’re handed the most light we’ve had all year, the year quietly starts taking it away again.

A potent, bittersweet reminder that our deepest moments of emotional warmth and illumination are inherently tied to the vulnerable, unavoidable shadows we must now begin to face. Fucking great. But such is life and life, after all, is the best deal we got out of that whole ‘existing as a biological form in a universe that didn’t ask us to feel everything, yet demands we do it anyway’.

I’ll be walking you through the full season, transit by transit, what it means for the collective and what it’s almost certainly already started doing to your personal life whether you noticed or not, and then breaking down what it specifically looks like for every Rising sign, because the Sun might rule one sign’s season, but it visits a different room in everybody’s chart, and the visit is never identical twice.

We’ve spent a month being interrogated by Gemini, force-fed information until our nervous systems short-circuited, if you are unsure of who is trying to rig what election and who the fuck has all the files on their desk and how the holy hell are those energy gluttony monster AI centers actually meant to be good for your community, you are right on cue with all of that Uranus Cazimi that left most of us slightly concussed by our own minds.

Cancer Season is the comedown. Except comedowns are never gentle, no matter how badly we want them to be. The body keeps the receipts even after the brain has decided it’s fine.

So now the Sun goes through the places and people we call home. The sign of the actual moon, milk teeth, memory, the soft underbelly we spend eleven other months armoring over. And the cosmic timing is, frankly, a little on the nose: right as the Sun crosses into Cancer, Mercury is already deep in its shadow period, getting ready to turn around on June 29th and walk backward through the same terrain for nearly a month. Yes, ‘insert a string of profanities’ is accurate here.

We are being asked, quite forcefully, to go back inside the house and look at what’s actually living in the walls.

Cancer energy is not beta soft, it’s not pastel in the way people lazily assume. It’s a crab, an exoskeleton animal, all that tenderness wrapped in something hard enough to survive getting stepped on.

It’s the friend who seems easy to read until you realize you’ve known them four years and still don’t know where they actually grew up & why they flinch at certain phone numbers. It’s protective to the point of architecture. It builds walls and calls them love.

Cancer Season is the smell of somebody else’s kitchen at 11pm.. a dish you didn’t grow up eating but that immediately rearranges something in your chest, and you find yourself asking for the recipe like it’s a medical record.

Cancer Season is finally calling your mother back after four unanswered voicemails, bracing for a fight.. and instead just crying together about nothing in particular for twenty minutes, neither of you mentioning the four unanswered voicemails at all.

Cancer Season is the song your first boyfriend only ever half finished on a borrowed guitar, the one that popped fully formed out of some Tuesday in 2009 and now refuses to leave your skull for three days straight, no Spotify required, your own nervous system the only algorithm responsible.

Cancer Season is realizing the apartment you’ve lived in for six years still doesn’t feel like yours.. and instead of buying a new throw pillow about it, you finally admit that the problem was never the apartment.

Cancer Season is tender, yes. But it has claws for a reason.

It will leave you slow-blinking at old photographs, suddenly fluent in a grief you thought you’d finished and inconveniently craving a version of safety that was never actually available to you the first time around, which is precisely the invitation hiding inside all that ache.

••●••

Cancer Season opens on the Solstice itself. The longest day of the year hands us the most light we’ll get in 2026 and then immediately, without ceremony, starts taking it back.

Every culture that ever paid attention to the sky built something around this moment, a fire, a vigil, a reason to stay up and watch the turning. The Solstice isn’t really about light.

It’s about the hinge.

It’s the one day a year the universe visibly demonstrates that abundance and decline are not opposites, they’re the same motion, viewed from two different angles. You get the longest day of your life and the very same day, the clock starts running the other way.

That hinge quality bleeds straight into the season.

Cancer rules the part of us that holds on, the part that wants permanence, the part that decorates a nursery before there’s a baby and keeps the ticket stub from a concert that ended nine years ago. And the cosmos opens this season by reminding everyone, gently but unmistakably, that nothing actually stays. Not the light. Not the version of you that existed in June.

Whatever surfaces for you right around the 21st, an old memory, an inexplicable wave of nostalgia, a phone call you didn’t expect to make, pay attention. It’s setting the emotional key for everything that follows.

(I have a little tarot spread specifically for a little Solstice inquiry, FIND IT HERE..)

Then on June 29th, Mercury stations retrograde at the very last degree of Cancer, and stays in the sign of memory itself until July 23rd.

Most Mercury retrogrades make people lose their keys and resend the same email four times. This one does that too, sure, fine, expect the typical chaos, the flight delays, the ex who texts “hey stranger” like it’s 2014 and you have any interest in role-playing 2014. But because it’s happening in Cancer, in the sign that rules home, family, ancestry, the body’s earliest memories, the retrograde isn’t really about your inbox. It’s about your inheritance.

This is the transit where you walk past your childhood street on Google Maps for absolutely no reason and end up crying in your kitchen at midnight over a house that was sold a decade ago.

This is the transit where your body remembers something your brain conveniently forgot, an old fear, an old hunger, an old way of flinching when somebody raises their voice, and you finally have language for why you do the thing you do.

That’s the energy. Not new information. Old information, recirculating, demanding to finally be processed instead of just stored.

Notice what you do automatically when you feel unsafe.

Notice who you become around your family of origin within roughly four minutes of walking through their door.

You don’t have to fix any of it during the retrograde itself, Mercury backward is genuinely not the moment for big decisions, but you can finally see it clearly, which, infuriatingly, is most of the work.

The same day Mercury turns retrograde, June 29th, Jupiter marches into Leo and a Full Moon detonates in Capricorn, which means the universe scheduled a backward-looking memory spiral and a loud, expansive, look-at-me energy shift for the exact same afternoon, and somehow that is extremely on brand for how this year has been going.

The Full Moon in Capricorn illuminates the parts of your life built on structure, career, reputation, the slow patient architecture you’ve spent years constructing and with Capricornian legendary cold precision inspects if maybe you’ve been quietly burning out while telling everyone you’re thriving. All brace, cause this moon is ready to slap your carefully manufactured dysfunctional facade into oblivion.

Meanwhile Jupiter striding into Leo is the cosmic equivalent of someone throwing open double doors at a party that’s been getting a little too polite. Jupiter expands whatever it touches, and Leo is not a sign that does subtlety, so of course together they mix some incendiary cocktail of too much, too fast, too loud and too glorious!

For the next year we’re looking at bigger personalities, bigger egos, bigger spectacles, bigger everything, both the gorgeous kind, art and romance and audacious self-expression finally getting room to breathe, and the exhausting kind, because Leo energy unchecked by any humility starts looking a lot like the trillionaires and tech messiahs currently treating the entire planet as their personal stage, the rest of us unpaid fluffers that in turn fund their lavish, loud and empty lives.

We are, let’s be honest, already living in a moment defined by men with too much money convinced they are uniquely qualified to solve problems they mostly created. Jupiter into Leo does not invent that energy. It just turns the volume dial from loud to deafening.

Watch for the gap between who gets celebrated and who actually does the work growing even more grotesque. And also, if you’re someone who’s been hiding your own brightness because visibility once got you punished, watch for this transit handing you a permission slip to take up space too.

Then the sky drops a bomb (literally?) on July 4th with Mars conjoining Uranus in Gemini.. the kind of transit astrologers have had circled for two years, and it lands, with a timing too perfect to ignore, on the exact day the United States celebrates the anniversary of declaring its own independence.

So, as you know Mars wants to act, Uranus wants to disrupt, and put them together and you get sudden movement, the kind that arrives without the courtesy of a countdown. This is you’ve got five seconds to decide and can only save one puppy, your choice. This is a spark near dry leaves.

It tends to coincide with the moment something that’s been pressurizing for a while finally cracks, loudly, publicly, all at once, and given how much is currently pressurizing, it would be a strange month for absolutely nothing to give. Of course, the sky doesn’t write the news, but on the world stage, this terror flavored conjunction lands in a moment that’s already combustible.

I’m not going to sit here and predict a specific catastrophe, because astrology that does that is mostly just well-dressed hunt for clicks through increasingly popular damaging fearmongering. Do watch the News though and do question who is showing you what and why around this day.

What I will say is this transit asks something specific of you personally too, which is to notice where you’ve been sitting on a decision too long, because Mars-Uranus doesn’t reward overthinking. It rewards the leap, the blunt text, the blocked number, the resignation letter you’ve drafted nine times, the boundary you finally say out loud instead of performing through passive aggression for the fourth consecutive month.

🐚🔑

Ok, we are only half way through and boy, does the story escalate!

Venus still has to go cozy up to the South Node in Virgo, Mercury still gets its one cazimi flash of total clarity right in the middle of all that backward-walking. A New Moon still lands in Cancer’s own sign and quietly plants something none of us are ready to name yet. And instead of easy landing, Jupiter is doing some absolute insane Cirque du Soleil shit right at the exit from Cancer Season before the Sun sashays into Leo.

And of course, we’ll investigate how and what this soft, clawed little season is rearranging in your actual life.

I pulled together a full forecast for every Rising sign, tracking how these exact transits move through your specific houses, so you can actually see how Cancer Season writes itself into your story as its own unique chapter, not just a weepy panicked vibe everyone’s having at the same time.

Take what lands. Leave the rest by the door on your way home.

This season, choose radical softness without filling down your glorious sharp edges!

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“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” - Albert Camus

(June 21)

You have walked bravely through the bones of this year

through the raw-breathed winter of endings,

through the restless ache of becoming.

You held onto the flicker,

the promise of light returning

when all you had was cold faith and inner fire.

•

In Taurus season, you learned to wait

to trust the slow-bloom,

to sink into soil and body and breath.

You luxuriated in the patient miracle of roots deepening.

You let your worth whisper itself back into your bones.

•

Then Gemini came, electric and sharp,

cracking you open like a peach

mind racing, tongue lit with questions,

a million windows flung open in the house of the self.

Curiosity spun its web across your psyche,

rewiring stories, flickering synapses with holy mischief.

•

But today, Cancer arrives fully as a threshold.

A watery womb-door creaks open on the longest day.

The Solstice is her portal.

And she says:

Come back to the inner temple,

to the soft-lit cave of memory, belonging, and feeling.

Not the performance of growth,

but the tending of it.

This is where your soul exhales.

Where you stop running and start remembering.

Where light and dark are equal,

and you are asked not to seek shade or soak up the sun

but to nurture the fire that already lives inside.

Today, the Sun stretches to its fullest,

swelling in the sky like a god drunk

on honey and gasoline.

The gloriously violent quickening that roars:

Today marks the apex of light,

the climax of the year,

when the Sun sits on its golden throne and demands:

So what do you do?

You answer.

With bare skin and open throat.

With your chest cracked open to the sky.

With your YES.

With your FUCK YES.

The Solstice asks nothing less

but the full spectrum of your glory.

Your heat.

Your hunger.

Your holy “too much.”

•

So, dance like you’re invoking your ancestors’ forgotten gods.

Sing like you’re made of thunder and citrus.

Plant your feet in the dirt and remember

you are not here to dim.

You are here to ignite.

•

Solstice Spellcraft: A Tarot & Journaling Ritual

Today, we stand inside the golden mouth of the year. The Sun, high and holy, pours its light into the cracks we once tried to hide. The Solstice calls for celebration, yes, but not the polished, scripted, rehearsed, performative type. Think the sticky, sweet, sun-drunk spiral into your own radiant underworld.

SPF be damned for one day only, we do not fear the light here. We use it as a blade and a balm.

So bring your cards. Bring your pen. Bring your truth, half-feral and half-frightened.

Let’s let the tarot be mirror and map (which is exactly what tarot is when you allow it), and our words be offerings laid at the altar of becoming.

Allow the Solstice magick to help put name to things, shape to feelings and from those shapes a map might emerge to assist your journey through the challenges (not only astrological!) of the summer ahead!

•

5-Card Solstice Tarot Spread: “The Light I Tend”

1. The Root of My Becoming
   
    What inner truth or desire has quietly been growing beneath the surface?

2. The Fire That Fuels Me
   
    What passion, hunger, or calling wants more of my devotion?

3. The Shadow Cast by My Own Light
   
    What fear, pattern or illusion do I face when I begin to shine fully?

4. The Offering to My Future Self
   
    What can I gift, commit to or release in order to grow into the life I crave?

5. The Radiance I Am Ready to Embody
   
    What divine quality or version of myself wants to rise and be lived out loud?

•

Journaling Prompts to Follow the Spread

Card 1: Where in my life have I undervalued what has taken root? What parts of me are ready to be seen as sacred?

Card 2: What lights me up, even when no one is watching? How can I commit to feeding that flame daily?

Card 3: What stories do I tell myself about visibility, success or worth? What am I afraid will happen if I let myself be fully seen?

Card 4: What can I leave behind at the edge of this Solstice? What would it look like to act as though I already trust the future me?

Card 5: Write a love letter from this future, radiant self. What do they say about who you are becoming. And how you got there?

•

If you can find your way outside with a piece of reflective glass (it can very well be a glass filled with cold rose wine or a cup of coffee) or mirror, if you can sit in the garden or in a park, allow your bare feet touch the ground. Allow the earth to take in the full weight of who you are and who you are yet to become. Catch the light of Sun in the mirror or reflective surface of your drink and with it, your own reflection. Look into your eyes, your beautiful, piece of art, one in an eight billion face and speak this little spell out loud:

Solstice has always been a communal event, Solstice is about sharing and delighting in the explosions of gifts that the fullness of light and sun-kissed natural world provide, the shared celebration, the shared astonishment that after all and considering all, we made it this far!!!

So, please! Whatever message or piece of wisdom comes up from either reading your cards, speaking your affirmations, doing your pinch of Solstice magic, do share it with the rest of us below. You never know who might need to hear it today and for whom those words might fully blossom into a guiding light for the path ahead.

•

(June 14, 2026)

Something started today and I want you to know about it before the news cycle buries it under the next emergency. This New Moon in Gemini is the first one with Uranus newly settled into the sign, which means the seven-year era of communicative revolution, the one I've been talking about for years, has just officially seeded itself.

I wrote the full picture: where we are as a species, why the UFO disclosures and the AI grift and the cage on the White House lawn all belong in the same conversation as this lunation, and what every sign actually needs to do with all this electricity.

We’re going to work with a tarot spread built specifically for this chart.

We’re going to do a ritual that doesn’t require you to buy anything or pretend to be someone you’re not.

And we’re going to journal our way through some questions that are genuinely uncomfortable, because the 24th degree of Gemini with its Pisces undertone is not asking for surface-level intentions and it would be rude to give it any.

This moon plants something that takes until 2032 to flower.

Come see what you’re growing.

This morning I stood barefoot in our garden, watching a dragonfly drowning dramatically in the jug I use to collect rain water. I dropped the wet laundry in the grass and run back inside to find something - ANYTHING - to help scoop it up and rescue. By the time I came rushing back with some tissue and tupperware, that dragonfly finished drinking and flew away. This was, of course, pre-coffee.

Muddled mind only slowly shifting back in focus - Mercury had just left Gemini and yes, it is slowing down in prep for another fucking retrograde, and it was like the air unzipped. My thoughts, for the first time in weeks, stopped clinging to the walls like damp laundry.

Dragonflies don’t drown!

And instead of enjoying baring witness to its morning ritual, what with the magical ripples on the water’s surface and all, my brain caught momentarily fire. Now I’ll probably need to rewash some of the laundry I dropped on the ground.

But that's a pretty good metaphor for what this lunation is going to ask of us, so I'll take it.

So What’s Different About This One?

Mercury rules this lunation and is currently sitting in Cancer, that’s Moon’s home turf, ok?

This means the two signs are in what astrologers call mutual reception..each planet occupying the other’s home sign, each helping the other function better than it might otherwise. Mercury is in Cancer while the Moon is in Gemini. The mind becomes more intuitive. The intuition becomes easier to articulate. Truth will out and all of that, no matter how emotionally loaded it gets.

Cancer is also: nesting, the safe spaces carved out in the mad world for us and ours.. Old family dynamics, the ones that run on subtext and silence and never quite get named directly, those become harder to avoid talking about. Some of that will be uncomfortable. Most of it will be necessary.

Mercury is in shadow right now, preparing to station everyone’s favorite retrograde shitshow later in June, and that shadow period matters. The ideas, plans and realizations that surface around this new moon won’t be resolved quickly. They’re going to need the retrograde period to be rethought, reconsidered, turned over. So, if something comes to light around the 14th (and oh boy, will it ever!), give it the summer to germinate.

Sunday ushers in the first Gemini New Moon since Uranus officially settled into the sign for its seven-year stay. Expect something big, something that feels stupid at first and it might just turn sinister in retrospect.

There was a preview of Uranus in Gemini during the summer of 2025, but no lunar cycle was seeded then. No real beginning was made. This lunation is the actual beginning. The official, ceremonial planting of a seed that will take until 2032 to fully flower.

That’s a long time to tend something. Which means what you initiate around this moon is not a sprint. It’s a long-ass commitment, a project worth taking seriously.

Uranus is sitting in a precise square to the lunar nodes, bending the nodes that have been moving through Pisces and Virgo for eighteen months, a cycle that closes out in late July.

These final degrees of a nodal cycle are always turbulent. Uranus strangling those nodes injects something electric and genuinely unpredictable into the whole picture.

The old order is finishing. The new one hasn’t started yet. People make decisions under that pressure that they wouldn’t have made otherwise, and the decisions often turn out to be correct even when they feel insane in the moment.

Some of you reading this will make a choice around this new moon that genuinely changes the next several years of your life. You might not even recognize it as a significant choice when you make it. That’s usually how it works.

At the same time, Uranus is in a long, wide trine with Pluto in Aquarius that will define the skies from 2026 through 2028, and this new moon is one of the first lunations to fully activate that aspect. Uranus trine Pluto is the kind of generational geometry that doesn’t make individual lives feel dramatic so much as it makes the collective infrastructure shift underneath everyone’s feet simultaneously. Something to do with technology running amok so far ahead, we collectively find ourselves struggling to keep up. The thing everyone suspected was coming becoming undeniable. Aliens?

Jupiter is close to this new moon, and as Jupiter does, it scales up the Gemini gifts & challenges ad absurdum.. The ideas will come fast, faster than you can write them down, faster than your nervous system can process their implications. Some of them will be extraordinary. Some of them will look completely ridiculous in the light of day and you’ll be grateful you didn’t send that email at midnight.

Gemini plus Jupiter plus a lack of sleep plus Mercury in its shadow phase feels like an impulse to announce, to declare, to tell everyone what you’ve figured out, that impulse will be strong. And you will need let it play on the background for a bit. Let the idea survive a week before you commit to it publicly.

••●••

The Gemini, The Uranus and Where The Fuck Are We as Humanity?

What this new moon is seeding at the collective level is a question about language itself. Uranus in Gemini for seven years means the infrastructure of how we communicate, share information, receive and process meaning, is being rebuilt from the ground up.

Is what’s being said true? Is what you’re saying true? Is what you’re sharing useful? Is the volume of your output proportional to the quality of your reflection?

The new moon also lands in a chart that touches Mercury’s upcoming retrograde shadow in ways that make me think the communication blocks, the things left unsaid, the secrets only half-exposed.

Leaks and whistelblowers galore incoming. Because here is what Uranus also does, historically, every time it moves through an air sign: it finds the people at the margins of the information system, the ones the official channels ignored or suppressed or laughed at, and it gives them amplification. Believe the victims! It rewires who gets to speak and how. It makes the old gatekeepers look suddenly and obviously obsolete.

Sunday, as the first Gemini New Moon of the Uranus era seeds a revolution in how humanity communicates, relates to truth and organizes meaning itself, also collides with the President of the United States celebrating his 80th birthday by hosting a UFC cage fight on the White House lawn. I wish I was joking.

Over sixty million dollars of public money spent. Over hundred thousand people are expected to watch men punch each other in the face in front of the building where Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Uranus just entered Gemini and the first thing it did was show us all the level of stupid and darkly absurd we’ll have to work with throughout our already toxic News cycle in the next seven years.

And then the concept of stupid itself stepped forward and said hold my bear.

As US always does, it shouts more loudly and obnoxiously than the rest, so one would be forgiven to think this end-of-empire decadent shit is limited to the former pinnacle of Western democracy alone. But this is a global symptom of a global disease and the disease is what happens when kleptocracy dresses itself up in nationalist cosplay and nobody with institutional power says stop loudly enough or early enough. Europe is not innocent here.

Worldwide, the story is the same machinery running at different speeds: billionaires funded authoritarian consolidation, press suppression, the systematic defunding of anything that might produce an informed and organized citizenry.

Now, add to this bullshit storyline currated by AI (also completely funded by the tech oligarchy) the aliens stuff and voila, congratulations, you have arrived to the officially most absurd timeline in human history. I have been saying for years, specifically since Uranus began its approach to Gemini, that this transit would be the one to finally drag the extraterrestrial question out of the fringe and into the room where actual decisions get made.

I said it when people still rolled their eyes.

I am saying it now when the Pentagon periodically releases new batches of formerly apparently non-existent UFO files, and I am saying I told you so with complete grace and zero smugness.

Okay, minimal smugness.

Uranus in Gemini is arriving into an already burning library to fuck shit up, somewhere in its back pocket, a seed. That seed is what this new moon is about.

This is drip drip of declassification is Uranus doing exactly what Uranus does: making it suddenly impossible to maintain a fiction that has become too expensive and too leaky to sustain. The question of what shares our airspace is entering the mainstream not because humanity is finally ready, not because Spielberg gave us a collective permission slip to believe, but because the infrastructure of suppression finally cracked under its own weight.

I have been saying for years that Uranus in Gemini would put something previously unspeakable in front of the microphone. I did not know it would happen on the same weekend as a UFC cage fight on the White House lawn, but honestly, it’s very on brand for 2026, and the universe has always had a sense of timing that borders on the theatrical.

So here we are. There is a bloody cage fight with unpunishable child molesters cheering on happening right on the White House lawn today. Somewhere in the rubble of Gaza a child is trying to find their family. Russia is building missiles faster than Europe can count them. The Pope is worried about AI. Elon Musk became the world’s first trillionaire on the back of a public offering, whilst loudly protesting being a victim when we demand that like us, who built his wealth, he too fucking pay taxes. The 24th degree of Gemini is asking all of this to find words.

Plant something worth tending.

••●••

GEMINI SEASON GUIDED MEDITATION JOURNEY

So here’s something helpful. A journey inwards to help tame the beautiful chaos into an intentional self-narrative.

I crafted a guided audio ritual + cinematic narrative transmission infused with mutable air magic, to help you navigate overstimulation, give the mental noise a direction and script your own future plot twists.

📚 🖋️ Your storybook is waiting.

••●••

On Sunday, the air feels charged with absurdity, spectacle, someone trying to speak to you in a voice that’s loud and obnoxious to cover for lack of substance or lack of truth. This is one of those moons dressed in astrology that makes you want to assault the world with truth bombs, but what it actually requires from you is to sit the fuck down and start noticing.

What is coming up is not an immediate battleplan, but rather a mission statement that take months to play out. Be patient!

The dragonfly wasn’t drowning. It was just doing what it came to do, and it didn’t need saving. Note what you’re reaching for this new moon, and check whether it needs you at all, or whether it was already fine and you just needed to witness it without intervening.

Then go rewash the laundry.

Alright, let’s spill. Because while everything I’ve described above applies to all of us stumbling through this particular sky, the way this moon lands in your body, your week, your nervous system, your inbox, your relationships and your general capacity to function like a reasonable adult varies quite a bit depending on your elemental nature.

So here’s your field report, completed with a little tarot, journaling, ritual & spell work to meet the astrology half way and decipher some of the information noise into something actionable & actually helpful.

Air Signs — Gemini, Libra, Aquarius

Congratulations, you are in your natural habitat and the habitat is on fire, but like, a fun fire. A fire with good music.

Uranus has just officially moved into Gemini for a seven-year stay and this new moon is the first proper lunar cycle of that era, which means that for Gemini especially, something in your sense of self is being overhauled at a level that’s both exhilarating and quietly destabilizing. A beautiful chaos, if you will.

You know that feeling of being in the middle of a conversation that’s going so well you can’t quite tell if it’s the most important conversation you’ve ever had or if you’re just very stoned/high/caffeinated? That’s the vibe of the next several years, and it begins now. Lean into it. The instability is the upgrade.

GEMINI

The door to your first house of self and identity popped open a bit and suddenly the revolution is no longer happening around you: it is happening within your very bones.

This transit marks the absolute end of playing a muted, sanitized character just to keep your immediate environment comfortable. Instead, you are holding a fully charged electric kattle prod (disgusting, I know) to your self-image and self-presentation and you are starting to…yes, PROD! To test. To strengthen. To direct. And to eventually completely restructure how you present to the world, how you speak(and with whom!) and how you embody your raw truth.

Uranus taking up a seven-year residency in your first house means your physical presence, your style and what you really thought of your role in the world, are undergoing a total hardware overhaul, forcing you to shed the old, leaky scripts of who you thought you had to be to survive.

Do not let the algorithmic panic or the collective distraction dissociate you from your own skin. Instead, ground your nervous system into the physical earth, step into the gentle yet potent power of this lunation and commit your entire existence to the raw, uncompromised complexity of who you actually are. It’s maddeningly dazzling, honey, isn’t it?

LIBRA

For Libra and Aquarius, this new moon is activating areas of your chart where ideas have been sitting unspoken or half-formed or kept deliberately vague because you weren’t ready to commit to them publicly. Mercury in Cancer in mutual reception with this Gemini moon means the communication that matters right now is the kind that requires some vulnerability, which is not always comfortable for signs that tend to prefer the elegant distance of the conceptual.

Libra, you’ve been considering something that would require you to take a position, an actual position, not a beautifully articulated both-sides analysis(I know, radical!), and this moon is asking you to take it.

Gemini is poking their fingers into the front door of your ninth house, so all of them grand philosophies, ideological frameworks, those long-range horizons are officially under siege (Uranus has a foot in the door too, so no biggie, but panic about now!).

The academic dogmas, spiritual fluff, inherited moral maps you once used to navigate reality are cracking under the weight of an unhinged global landscape.

Stop clinging to stale intellectual orthodoxies or looking for enlightenment in sanitized, institutional spaces that demand you edit your grandest theories down to safe, digestible bites. Over the next seven years, your entire relationship to truth, higher knowledge and belief itself will be fundamentally remapped, turning you from a passive student into a beautifully unhinged broadcaster of your supremely weird, supremely YOU philosophies.

Because the sheer velocity of conflicting worldviews could easily leave you mentally out at the sea, you must actively anchor your perspective, reject the sterile debates of the digital trolls and seek the profound friction of LIVED EXPERIENCE. If you read about it on Reddit, it did not happen, ok? If Fox News claimed it, it cannot walk with you in the real world!

Under this moon and going forward, change lanes from the predictable echo chambers of belief and instead commit your mind to an ongoing, uncompromised exploration of what is actually true.

AQUARIUS

Aquarius, you’ve been sitting on an idea that you’ve already fully developed internally but haven’t shared because you’re not sure the world is ready for it. The world is not ready. Share it anyway. That’s always been the job.

And because your Gemini ruled house is under electric assault, this has most likely something to do with your creative, artistic genius, your raw pleasure, heck even your concept of romance?

The universe is putting a match to your inner gallery and demanding you stop producing sanitized art for basic audiences. Uranus taking up a seven-year squatting residence in this expressive palace of yours means that any creative project, romantic entanglement or pursuit of joy that requires you to file down your sharp edges is officially targeted for structural demolition.

If you have been editing your passion to fit the current digital aesthetic, you are wasting a spark that is meant to disrupt, not pacify. Disrupt in the ways that are FOR YOU, not against you. The collective marketplace is completely saturated with sterile, machine-generated content designed to manipulate engagement, but your job under this lunation is to reclaim the dangerous, unpredictable thrill of pure, unadulterated self-expression. See how something is smoldering already these days, your creative fire channeled into tangible, visceral experiments, your commitment to artistic output (in play, in romance, in creative endeavors) that reflects the raw, uncompromised complexity of your own glorious desires.

The risk for air signs under this particular configuration is the ten thousand tabs problem. Jupiter amplifying a Gemini moon means the information is coming in so fast it starts to feel like meaning, and it isn’t. It’s just volume. The distinction between stimulation and understanding is one you’re going to have to police yourself, and honestly the most radical thing an air sign can do under this sky is finish something.

One thing. Completely.

Not fourteen things at seventy percent. One thing at a hundred.

The Mars in Taurus sextile is offering you the gift of completion energy, which is not your usual currency, so take it while it’s available.

The Saturn square is going to make itself known for you in the form of criticism, real or anticipated. You say the thing, or write the thing, and then immediately the inner Saturn in Aries shows up and starts listing every way it was wrong, incomplete, embarrassing and so on. What does mama Ru call it? The inner saboteur. Fuck that little guy.

The test here is whether you can say the thing anyway and let it be imperfect and trust that what’s real in it will survive. It will. The retrograde is built into the cycle for a reason. You’ll get to refine it later. For now, say it. And own it.

••●••

Gemini, Libra & Aquarius, if you decide to scroll some more and find my tarot & journaling guide, my ritual & spell below, remember that your absolute baseline focus right now is to stop scattering your potent mental current into digital algorithms, that in turn fuck up your internal processing speed.

Gemini is completely reconstructing the raw identity, Libra is aggressively remapping the grand architecture of belief and Aquarius is liberating their creative genius.

Use the prompts and the ritual below to ground the overwhelming static for a moment, so that your sharpest insights actually cut through the noise of our supremely stupid timeline.

Fire Signs — Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

Read more

Hey beautiful weirdo,

Just thought I’d check in and make sure you're actually milking this brief moment of cosmic sanity for everything it’s worth.

How’s your head? And how’s your body? Did I catch you marvelling at the vastness and beauty of the sky above, or rather staring at a wall wondering why everything feels so profoundly intense right now?

Take a deep breath..no, really..do it! Fill your lungs with whatever real oxygen we’ve got left before the corporations try to monetize it. Hold it, feel your cells waking up, and as you exhale, spit out the doomscroll poison you’ve been swallowing.

We are currently sitting in a delicious, golden pocket of absolute cosmic pleasure, wedged right in between some seriously fucked up astrology, and I am not about to let you sleepwalk through it.

Grab your coffee, your tea or your favorite vice, and let’s talk about how we’re going to weaponize this gorgeous astrology to ghost the robots & invest our full focus into growing you own local resistance of peace & kindness.

So, Tuesday June 9, about that time..The benefics are throwing a massive party in Cancer before the Gemini New Moon demands a ruthless upgrade to your life’s priorities, just your casual weekend soul homework.

What strikes me about this week isn’t some grand promise of destiny descending from the heavens to personally anoint us with purpose. It’s much smaller than that, which is exactly why it matters. Venus and Jupiter are meeting in Cancer, one of the most generous and life-affirming alignments we’ll get all year, and they’re doing it in the sign of home, belonging, nourishment and the people who show up when your life falls apart.

The culture keeps selling us the fantasy that salvation is somewhere else: another city or another job, another relationship, another follower count, another reinvention. Always within a reach if you only pay premium.

Meanwhile, this astrology keeps pointing stubbornly toward what you already hold in your hands. Your friends. Your neighbours. The weird little community you’ve accidentally built over years of shared cigarettes, favours, heartbreaks, dinners made from pantry scraps that are somehow more memorable than any restaurant visit, and from simply just bearing witness to each others unfolding story of survival.

If there is magic here, it isn’t glamorous. It’s remembering that resilience is collective. It’s making plans with people you trust. It’s investing energy into something tangible, local and alive. Something that makes you in turn feel alive.

Particularly early in the week, there’s a rare sense that what we nurture now could actually sustain us later. Not because the future looks easy, but because it doesn’t.

Of course, the universe rarely serves dessert without slipping something sharp underneath the plate. This beautiful Venus-Jupiter moment immediately runs into Saturn, demanding that we separate genuine support from comforting fiction.

The systems of support we place so much value in that secretly drain our life force instead of replenishing it. And the atmosphere keeps shifting further under our feet. On June 12, Uranus squares the lunar nodes and a hot knife of insanity slices through our buttery smooth week of pleasure and blessings. Uranus rarely knocks politely. He prefers kicking a hole through the wall, allowing for weird & shocking news to come flooding through. Plans change and people start making decisions that seemed impossible twenty-four hours earlier. But as it is always with astrology that happens FOR US and not to us (we did already establish that, right?), whatever gets disrupted now isn’t necessarily falling apart to throw another wrench into your already malfunctioning year. It may simply be refusing to remain frozen in a form that’s already expired.

Then, on June 13, Venus strides into Leo and pure, undiluted desire returns to the room. So does pride. So does the realization that some of us have been accepting crumbs from people who wouldn’t survive a day on the diet they’re serving others.

Venus in Leo isn’t interested in shrinking, apologizing or pretending not to know her worth. She wants joy with a pulse, affection with leo-loud enthusiasm and relationships that don’t feel like unpaid internships.

By Sunday, the Gemini New Moon arrives with a sharp pair of scissors and very little patience for gaslighting (ourselves). It’s a weekend homework of ruthlessly scrapbooking the shit out of our book of our life. Something gets cut out, something else glued in with glittery stickers.

Which conversations leave you feeling more alive? Which ones leave you needing a shower? Which habits are actually serving you and which are just familiar enough to feel safe even if they look like shooting yourself in a foot over and over again?

Gemini is curious, but it’s also shows zero pity or compassion when it finally gets bored. This New Moon offers a rare chance to change your mind about something you’ve mistaken for a permanent truth. The algorithms and AI-generated influencers, paid agents of chaos disguised as podcasters, the digital era propagandists will continue auditioning for your attention.

Let them. You have better things to do.

Every New Moon is a beginning and this one comes carrying a chance to stop feeding the narratives that keep you small and start investing your energy in the people, in the ideas and possibilities that make you feel more fully alive.

Because every season eventually asks the same question in a different costume: who and what are you feeding? The systems profiting from your distraction would very much prefer you remain isolated, overwhelmed and convinced you’re powerless. This astrology suggests otherwise.

It suggests that your most radical act may be refusing cynicism, choosing connection and trusting living human beings over the endless machinery trying to monetize your fear.

••●••

And so I have built you something.

Ok, yes, I've spent an arguably unhealthy amount of time dissecting this astrology in my latest article. I break down exactly what's unfolding through the rest of June, why this fleeting pocket of sweetness matters so much before the summer starts getting weird and how these transits land in each rising sign's chart based on the houses they're currently stirring, blessing, provoking or casually setting on fire.

Because astrology is never just "Venus in Leo" or "Gemini New Moon" in the abstract. It's the specific chapter of your life that the sky has decided to scribble all over. I've also put together what amounts to a survival manual for this transition: guidance for every rising sign, a guided meditation for those of us whose nervous systems interpret good fortune as an immediate threat, a ritual designed to pry open our often-rusted capacity to receive pleasure, and a custom tarot spread with journaling prompts to help translate the astrology into the language of your own story.

Because the real work is in learning how to stay present enough to hear what’s trying to come through for us & to receive what it's trying to give you.

But right before the sky opens up and drops the next massive wave of evolutionary chaos on our heads, the universe is offering a rare, honeyed pocket of plea bargaining with the cosmos, to consolidate whatever the fuck just happened to your life. We are here to patch up our wounds before we have to re-enter the trenches of late summer breakneck developments and whatever dumpster fire alien disclosure plot twists the universe decides to throw at us next.

Before we parse the structural geometry of the sky, know that I have built a full survival manual for this transition at the very end of this text. I have a little guidance, a little message for every single rising sign, a deep guided meditation for when times are good but your trauma makes you too terrified to actually receive the freebies, a little ritual to crack open your capacity for receiving pleasure and a custom tarot layout with journaling prompts to help you reframe the June astrology in context of your personal storyline.

You’ve just crossed the electrified bridge of May and the Gemini current overload.. the one that lit a match under every sleeping nerve, every hidden anger, every plot twist that forced a new beginning you weren’t sure you were fucking ready for.

Now…Exhale.
Stretch those tired legs.

We’re arriving at an unusually sweet rest stop on the nervous system assault marathon that is 2026. Venus and Jupiter dripping some sweet blessing like slow honey after a storm, suddenly your world might for a brief spell(literally!) feel less like a dodgeball game with nukes and more like a silk hammock hung between two oaks.

Early June sends an invite to fold back into our bodies, back to our senses, which - as senses do - allow for healing through the radical act of sensuality. This is the moment you take off the armour, piece by piece, and remember the feeling of soft fabric on your skin.

The senses, in their infinite animal wisdom, begin the work of mending what the mind cannot.

But hold that thought - we will absolutely go full manic pixie, spiritually delulu self-care goddess mode, promise. But first, let’s look at the fucking shitstorm brewing on to the horizon.

The first half of 2026 has been an absolute fucking meat grinder. Structural shifts - relentless, news cycles - weird. And also relentless. And the creeping feeling that reality is losing its firm footing in repeated cycles of history and spiralling somewhere into a low grade sci-fi fan fiction.

If you think you can skip this intermission and just keep white knuckling your way through the year, you are completely out of your mind. You really will want to chill the fuck out now, especially considering where we are heading.

At the end of June, Jupiter enters Leo.

The planet of too big, too much, of loud expansiveness, is pairing up with the zodiac sign playing in the exact same sand pit. The audience for this savage celestial WMMA fight has been gathering for some time now and end of June is a loud megaphone announcing the start of ego maniacs deathmatch with balls-to-the-wall high-budget, theatrical staging and yes, there will be blood, not corn syrup. This is not eat the rich type of shit, this is rich eat each other and we all watch and choke on popcorn.

And then immediately all throughout July, both Jupiter and Uranus start squaring and sextiling other planets and each other like an insane secretary at an old switchboard who just spilled a boiling mug of black coffee all over the live circuits. Throw in a chaotic Mercury retrograde in Cancer and some deeply volatile Leo and Aquarius eclipses, and you have a recipe for absolute carnage. Ai karamba indeed.

Lately, you have probably seen a bunch of internet people dragging the Barbault Basket model into conversations, and honestly, most of that Reddit chatter is just that.. the real history is way more restrained and infinitely more fascinating.

The brilliant French astrologer André Barbault was not sitting at his desk decades ago predicting a specific global pandemic. What he actually did was track long range planetary cycles to observe how heavy outer planets cluster together simultaneously. He identified the 2020 period as a major peak convergence zone because multiple slow moving planetary gears were tightening at the exact same time after a multi decade build up. Not another magical Covid prophecy, but an obsessive, intelligent diagnosis of a historical stress pattern.

Saturn and Neptune are currently conjoining in Aries, which is a wild cocktail of harsh reality colliding with total ego dissolution, happening right in the sign of aggressive ignition and raw action. Uranus in Gemini I think we already established about a million times is at the very least and very conservative the extraterrestrials landing on the White House front lawn (also the whole AI bullshit storyline of our current times). Pluto is already deep in Aquarius, enacting a long term demolition of mass technology and collective systems. In the language of Barbault, the basket formation of summer 2026 is another tightening of multiple slow moving cosmic wheels that have stopped acting like separate subplots and are now performing as one single, highly compressed storyline.

And the plot twist? Unlike the messier, chaotic brand of 2020, this one is apparently packaged as a consciousness upgrade arc for humanity. A spiritual expansion pack. A soft reboot. A “you are now ready to access higher levels of reality” notification from a software none of us remember installing.

Either way, it’s less apocalypse, more like a beginning of something resembling coherence. If you want the realistic one, it’s reality becoming self-aware enough to start patch it’s rogue code in public. Fascism out! Utopia in!

••●••

This brief window of early June astrology represents a very specific, rare texture of human experience.

A pocket of pleasure that feels like sitting on your kitchen counter in the morning during a massive city wide blackout. You were ready to leap out of the door and rush (late!) to your tedious office job, but somehow the whole public transport infrastracture collapsed today (you don’t feeli like questioning why), so instead you’re here, eating expensive cherries with greek yogurt out of a ceramic bowl, listening to your old battery operated walkman you brought home from your last visit to your parents.

This pocket of pleasure feels like kicking your shoes off to sprint across wet grass right after surviving a brutal, hours long panic attack, feeling the literal dirt pressing into your soles, and realizing with an embarrassing surge of relief that your body is still real, still human and still beautifully alive despite your mind trying its absolute best to destroy you. (Aka just my regular Tuesday)

A pocket of pleasure that sounds like a key turning in your front door, you lock yourself in, rebelliously deciding NOT to put your dead phone on charger, and spending a rainy afternoon cooking an incredibly complex meal that takes five hours to simmer, entirely for yourself, with absolutely zero intention of taking a photo of it or sharing it with anyone, just to prove that your precious attention can still belong to you.

It is an act of absolute rebellion to refuse to let the chaos outside dictate the temperature of your skin. The profound realization that joy is not a prize you have to earn by surviving enough trauma first.

••●••

I’ve already made a meditation for when the astrology turns heavy and everything feels like it’s tilting off its axis (you’ll find that anchor HERE). But not everything is collapse and crisis. Sometimes the sky opens in the other direction.

Sometimes it gives. …And we flinch.

This guided meditation journey is your permission slip to guzzle down every last drip of blessings the skies are showering us with right now.

••●••

Alright, let’s see where this delicious astrological spa treatment land in your chart (read for your Rising Sign).

We’ll analyse Mercury’s journey with Cancer and through a spicy summer retrograde, Venus & Jupiter make out session in Cancer on June 9th, Chiron entering Taurus to help us heal the wound that is your relationship to receiving, to things that ground you - your body, your senses, your worth.

Below your personalized guidance, you’ll find a little ritual, a little tarot and journaling pause away from the noise, a little salve for the bruised hero the fucked up year of 2026 needed us to become.

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Alright, you glorious agent of chaos. Let’s talk.

I’ve already made a meditation for when the astrology turns heavy and everything feels like it’s tilting off its axis (you’ll find that anchor HERE). But not everything is collapse and crisis. Sometimes the sky opens in the other direction.

Sometimes it gives.

Like this brief pocket of delight in first couple weeks of June, courtesy of Jupiter–Venus rendezvous in Cancer, when things don’t tighten, they soften. When life doesn’t withhold, it actually offers.

And if you’re anything like most people, that’s where it gets complicated.

We’ve been trained to mistrust ease. To assume that anything good is temporary, or followed by a bill we didn’t expect, based on a cosmic legal disclaimer, under the line, in small print, that we absolutely did not bother to read. And if you’re like me, with a touch of raging OCD that turns everything into a potential catastrophe, then when something actually feels like a gift, the reflex is to flinch. To brace. To stay slightly out of reach of it.

“The Rebellion of Delight” is a way of unlearning that.

It’s a guided descent into receiving what is already here. Into letting pleasure land without turning it into suspicion. Into letting life be good without immediately trying to defend yourself against the loss of it.

Far from frivolous, even and especially in the context of the type of year we’re collectively experiencing, pleasure is a form of intelligence. And sometimes, it’s the more radical one.

So, this audio potion is a reminder that your capacity for joy is not separate from your strength. It is part of it. Not in denial of the chaos. Not pretending the world isn’t burning in places. But refusing to let that be the only thing you know how to feel.

In this one, I invite you to explore attention as a practice. Learning again how to notice what is already intact, already beautiful, already here.

A simple internal agreement. To not abandon your own capacity for joy just because the world is inconsistent.

Put on your headphones and fold your mind and your nervous system into this pocket, letting yourself be someone who still knows how to receive.

••●••

Side note: far from the pan pipes & breathy Galadriel-like delivery, mine tends to be unfiltered, a little bit feral, but always heart-centered. Not suited to listen with little kids in the room or if you prefer your spirituality gentle & sanitized!

If you’d like to follow with deeper but gentle practice to anchor in your ability to receive and to notice the good shit life has to offer right now, as well as understand better what type of story the astrology of 2026 summer tries to make us re-enact, my deep dive workshop sits HERE.

🙏☕️✨

The full meditation is free for paying members & available for instant download below. The monthly membership is equivalent of treating me to a cup of coffee once a month (which, frankly, is what fuels my creativity) & free to cancel anytime, of course.

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(May 20 - June 19)

Uranus Cazimi electrifies the hive mind, Pluto drags dead systems into the street, Venus in Cancer begs us to feel something real again and everybody’s coping mechanisms start smoking visibly. Let’s hyperventilate together for a bit.

Between sudden revelations & resulting power struggles, between an almost embarrassing collective craving for tenderness & the complete meltdown of what seemed real and reasonable before, this season does not fuck around.

Or actually, it absolutely does, very much so!

In our search for how to keep cosplaying human, a sane and a functioning one, I’ll be offering guidance for each zodiac sign, including a tarot card pull for guidance and direction - as a kind of field manual for navigating chaos without losing your integrity or your mind completely.

Gemini energy is like putting your tongue on a battery just to see if it still works while half-finished books breed beside your bed and three different group chats argue about whether this time, the UFO disclosure is real.

It’s the hum of a city at 2 a.m. when someone is falling in love, someone is getting on a bus with no plan and someone is reinventing themselves in the bathroom mirror of a dive bar.

Mutable air. Restless, bright-eyed, impossible to pin down. It asks too many questions and then wanders off before the answers arrive. It’s about curiosity with its shirt half-buttoned, about contradiction, about becoming through conversation.

Gemini Season is missing your train because you got pulled into conversation with a woman smoking outside the station who casually tells you the story that changes your entire week.

Gemini Season is climbing over the rusted gate of the abandoned house at the edge of town, flashlight shaking in your hand, and finding a stack of water-damaged UFO magazines in the basement that rearrange your entire inner life.

Gemini Season is almost skipping the rooftop birthday party because you’re tired and vaguely heartbroken, then staying until sunrise beside a stranger-turned-friend, passing a bottle of cheap wine and a spliff back and forth while the two of you invent impossible rules for surviving your thirties without becoming emotionally domesticated.

Gemini Season is realizing the reason you can never fully “find yourself” is because you were never meant to be one fixed thing in the first place.

Gemini Season is chaos, yes. But it’s an intimate chaos.

It will leave receipts in your pockets, names on napkins, too many thoughts in your Notes app and a strange electrifying new version of yourself forming boldly between all the noise.

••●••

Gemini Season 2026 feels like accidentally snorting three lines of crushed up philosophy textbooks while your phone melts in your hand from too many notifications and somebody in the kitchen is explaining polyamory, fascism, AI overlords takover of our freedoms, gut health and ancient aliens in one uninterrupted rant.

The vibe is mentally electric, emotionally chaotic, horny, prophetic, funny, slightly dangerous and moving way too fucking fast for the average nervous system to process gracefully.

And right as Gemini Season begins, Venus slips into Cancer and suddenly everybody who spent the last six months pretending to be detached realizes they are, unfortunately, a mammal with feelings. The collective mood gets softer, moodier, more sentimental, more protective of the home turf.

One minute you’re flirting with three people at once and making jokes about never settling down, the next you’re crying because an old voicemail from your grandmother resurfaced in your cloud storage.

Venus in Cancer is deeply embarrassing in the best possible way because it forces people to admit they actually want intimacy and tenderness and a sense of home instead of just accumulating experiences like a raccoon stealing shiny objects.

What makes this especially weird is that Gemini Season itself is so mentally caffeinated. Gemini wants movement, novelty, gossip, ideas, chaos, conversations that spiral until sunrise. Cancer wants emotional safety and continuity, healed ancestry and shockingly unhealthy microwave cheesy treats to devour whilst watching that shockingly entertaining Brazilian reality tv show where a guy get stuck on an abandoned island with their mother-in-law.

It’s giving texting “I need space” followed immediately by “are you mad at me?”

And then we get the Uranus cazimi on May 22, which honestly feels like the universe plugging a live wire directly into humanity’s frontal lobe.

Uranus cazimis are rare as hell (you’ll get in only once in this lifetime) and this one matters because Uranus is now in Gemini, the sign of communication, media, language, of thought itself.

This is the kind of transit that feels like history changing channels in real time. Expect revelations, technological shocks, abrupt ideological shifts, insane news cycles (haha, shocker, right?), information leaks, weird breakthroughs and at least one moment where you stare at your phone thinking, “I genuinely do not understand what reality is anymore,” or better yet, even though grossly overused: “We truly do live in the stupidest timeline.” And this time, you will fucking meant it.

People become mentally overstimulated to the point of near hallucination.

This transit absolutely reeks of “the future arrived before we psychologically prepared for it.” AI developments, media manipulation, digital surveillance, mass misinformation, radical new ideas, all of it accelerates under this energy.

Gemini is already a sign associated with fragmentation and multiplicity, and Uranus here can make the collective psyche feel like it’s splitting into twenty different timelines at once.

The trick is not to mistake speed for truth. Just because information arrives instantly does not mean it deserves immediate worship. Some of us desperately need to log the fuck off and sit near a tree before your soul turns into WiFi static.

Then on May 25, Mars in Taurus squares Pluto in Aquarius, and suddenly all that nervous mental energy hits a concrete wall.

This transit is nasty pressure cooker energy. Mars in Taurus is stubborn survival instinct. Pluto in Aquarius is systemic transformation that does not give a single shit whether you’re emotionally ready for it. Together they create power struggles, obsession, resentment, economic tension, fights over resources, ideological warfare, and the overwhelming sensation that everybody is two seconds away from either fucking or fistfighting. So, the 2026 in a nutshell so far. But here, the friction becomes unbearable.

On the global stage this looks volatile as hell. Financial systems, technology, political power structures, ecological issues, labor unrest, all of it gets more intense.

You can practically feel collective burnout radiating off this transit. Possibly in a follow up to whatever Uranus Cazimi uncovered through its nuclear explosion in the collective, people become deeply reactive now. That’s because Taurus hates instability and Pluto exists specifically to drag hidden rot into the light with a crowbar.

Everybody wants security while simultaneously realizing the old systems cannot provide it anymore. That’s the existential horror at the center of this square.

Privately, this transit exposes where people are gripping onto survival patterns that are already decomposing underneath them. Relationships built on control crack. Jobs that quietly kill the soul become unsustainable.

You start realizing how much energy you waste trying to maintain versions of yourself that expired years ago. It’s ugly, but necessary.

May closes with a second full moon within a month - Sagittarius Full Moon on May 31 cuts through all this noise with energy that’s blunt, that is chaotic and excessive, but also funny, wise, self-righteous and occasionally completely full of shit.

Under this Full Moon people become desperate for meaning. Not information. Meaning. There’s a difference. And the collective bullshit tolerance drops dramatically.

Fake gurus, tech billionaires who take it upon themselves to tell you who the Antichrist is, low-IQ reality TV stars/failed businessmen who try to tell the Pope he profoundly misunderstood the teachings of the Bible..the performative spirituality, the ideological cults, the political parties that turned into ideological cults - all of it becomes harder to stomach and harder to look away from under the light of this full moon.

At the same time, this Full Moon can feel liberating because it reminds people that there is still a world beyond the algorithm and beyond the doomscroll. Sagittarius needs adventure to grow, Sag needs perspective, honesty, and experiences that make you feel spiritually larger instead of psychologically (or you know: geographically, relationally, contextually) trapped.

Then on June 9, Venus and Jupiter meet in Cancer, and honestly thank fucking God because this transit feels like somebody wrapping a lavender scented warm towel around our collective nervous system.

Venus-Jupiter conjunctions are gorgeous in almost any sign, but in Cancer they become deeply emotional, nostalgic, generous, sensual - and in all of that, which I’m sure you’d agree, come in short supply this year, it will be profoundly healing.

People suddenly remember that being alive can actually feel good. Friends gather in kitchens. Lovers soften toward each other. Estranged family members reach out. The endless adult loop of justifying our life choices to each other (and that way to ourselves first and foremost) gets muted. Performance and identity outfits folded up onto a shelf. Instead, we crave sincerity. Simple, naked honesty.

Art becomes more intimate. Cooking becomes sacred, so does sex. And slower. Music sounds better. Everybody collectively realizes they are exhausted from treating human vulnerability like some kind of moral failure.

There’s also something politically and culturally important about this conjunction because it pushes against the hyper-ironic emotional detachment that has infected modern life. Venus-Jupiter in Cancer says maybe caring is actually cool again. Maybe tenderness is not cringe. Maybe protecting each other matters more than curating a perfectly detached persona online.

Then comes June 12, when Uranus squares the lunar nodes and no biggie, just the collective timelines groan and moan and finally shift under this energy.

The future becomes unstable and weirdly nonlinear. People change direction suddenly. Because the nodes are in Pisces and Virgo, the deeper issue here is humanity trying to figure out how the fuck to stay spiritually and physically healthy while technology accelerates beyond human biological pace. Uranus arrives with a flamethrower to that already manic party. Mental health, digital addiction, AI labor displacement and critical thought replacement. Nervous system burnout, information systems burnout, spiritual burnout.

This transit is essentially asking whether humans can evolve technologically without completely dissociating from reality. That’s the big question hanging over this entire Gemini Season.

Everybody is connected, informed, stimulated, optimized… and lonely as shit. People know everything and understand nothing. There’s wisdom available everywhere and almost no silence in which to absorb it.

And then finally, on June 19, Chiron enters Taurus, which you’ll agree makes total sense given the prior May and June astro detonations across our collective and personal charts.

Previously, in Aries, Chiron sent us to our respective rooms to finish a homework on the identity, anger, masculinity, survival wounds. All of those could be easily wrapped in the same scar that came unstitched.

Chiron in Taurus shifts the wound into the body itself. Into self-worth. Into money. Into exhaustion. Into our relationship with pleasure, stability, food, nature, sensuality, and the Earth.

Humanity is fucking tired. Not just mentally. Soul tired. And for the next seven years, Chiron holds a healing circle on how to inhabit physical life again instead of constantly escaping it through distraction, performance, overwork or digital sedation, all which I KNOW FOR CERTAIN you really really need to fucking work on (I include myself too when I talk about the humanity, so no pouting and no talking back, go to your room and open your workbook!).

And that’s kind of really the deeper story of Gemini Season in 2026. Humanity is standing at the intersection between technological acceleration and biological limitation. The mind is evolving faster than the heart. Faster than the body.

So, as I mentioned before, the challenge this season won’t be about intelligence gathering. Information discernment. About curiousity and motivation to learn more, to connect more, to glean issues from all possible angles. It’s integration. Embodiment.

It’s learning how to think critically without becoming cynical, how to stay emotionally open without giving in the collective chaos, how to remain informed without turning your psyche into a landfill for every conspiracy theory under the Sun.

It’s staying human while the world becomes increasingly artificial & fragmented…and sadly also darkly surreal.

••●••

GEMINI SEASON GUIDED MEDITATION JOURNEY

Drop into your mind. Into the beautiful chaos. Into your storytelling brilliance.

I crafted a guided audio ritual + cinematic narrative transmission infused with mutable air magic, to help you navigate overstimulation, give the mental noise a direction and script your own future plot twists.

📚 🖋️ Your storybook is waiting.

••●••

Alright, let’s see where this feral little Gemini Season is rewiring your personal timeline.

Between the absofuckinglutely momentous Uranus Cazimi setting our personal hardrives on fire, Venus and Jupiter making everybody weirdly emotional, June isn’t subtle and neither are you supposed to be.

I pulled together a forecast for every Rising Sign tracking the chaos, breakthroughs, the emotion station, the future plot twists these transits are trying to shove into motion.

Plus a tarot card pull for each sign to help you navigate the static without losing the plot of this Gemini storyline.

Grab what hits. Leave the rest in the wreckage.

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Gemini Season is here to scribble on your reality with a divine sharpie, then invite you to the most exhilarating, mind-bending party in your own inner landscape.

If you feel tired amidst all that intellectual activation, feeling like your thoughts are a rogue (brain)storm, pause with me for a spin to harness that mutable air magic and turn the beautiful chaos into brilliance that makes some sort of sense. At least to you.

Step inside.

If you’ve never visited the Echoing Library through my guided ritual, consider this whole season and especially Gemini New Moon on June 14th as your open-doors day.

Walk in, find your section, take what you need.

If you have journeyed there before, then you already know: your storybook is waiting exactly where you left it. You are arriving today changed. Another turn on the great spiral behind you. Time to pull your story off the shelf, reread what the Past You was trying to say, etch a new narrative into the margins.

••●••

What you are about to step into is a controlled descent into your own noise, your own beautiful mental mess, where psychospiritual depth meets street-level honesty.

No spiritual perfume, no performative calm.

Just you, your raw attention and the part of your mind that never shuts up finally being asked to speak clearly and sketch out some magnificent future plot twists instead of screaming in the background.

We move through breath as an anchor in overstimulation, through inner imagery as a way of reorganizing inner chaos, through the strange architecture of your own psyche where every version of you you have ever been is still arguing in the hallway.

And somewhere between the rows and rows of books, your past and future chapters, you start to notice something quietly radical. That in the jumping frequencies of the outside noise and your own inner noise..

The next chapter is already forming inside you.

Duration: Approx. 50 minutes

Format: MP3 Download

Music by Scott Buckley – released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au

The full meditation is free for paying members

& available for instant download below.

The monthly membership (cancel anytime, of course) is set at an unmovable symbolic price - an equivalent of treating me to a cup of coffee once a month (which, frankly, is what fuels my creativity).

It gives you access to deep astrological wisdom, original spellwork, guided meditations, tarot spreads, and other potent tools to help you navigate the glorious maze of doom that is 2026 and beyond.

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After the burn the patriarchy heat of Aries Season astrology, Taurus energy usually promises the much needed slowing down, tending to our garden of inner wellbeing by stimulating our senses, grabbing onto the world and onto ourselves under lilac scented blankets, and then sleeping through our responsibilities and feeling ok about it. Well..

Not this time around, boo! You probably heard it elsewhere already, but rather than planting, under May 16th New Moon in Taurus, we’re sharpening sickles for decapitation.

Not in literal sense, I hope.

I feel like this could mean allegorically cutting heads of rotting reanimated fascist corpses that are still hanging onto the corrupting power (rarely you find any other kind of power when you go high enough), to prevent further spread of necrosis down the line, further down the power ladder where the little folks like me and you try to stay alive in a world that’s lost its mind.

All of this because the dreaded star Algol is holding the Moon in its claws.

This is survival instinct astrology. Nervous system astrology. So my guidance today might be a tiny bit more feral than usual.

But I know you can take it!

I’ll throw a simple little spell even the most exhausted of us can do, and a three card tarot pull at you to help this energy land.

Traditionally, Algol has always been astrology’s problem child. The ancients called it the Demon Star, associated it with Medusa’s severed head and it got blamed for public executions, collective hysteria, violent political downfall, the kind of rage that stops being personal and starts becoming historical.

Contrasting the ‘just let me snooze the alarm for another minute’ of garden tending, face mask slapping Taurus that’s ruled by ooing and sighing conflict avoidant Venus, Algol kicks the door off its hinges and screams: “LOOK AT WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN PRETENDING NOT TO SEE.”

And honestly? Look outside.

It’s difficult to separate this lunation from the current state of the world: governments cracking under the weight of their own corruption, economies bloated and feverish, the fucking wars! And the collective exhaustion curdling into anger, old patriarchal structures clutching onto power with arthritic fingers while entire populations grow increasingly unwilling to play along (good!).

We are watching institutions lose legitimacy in real time. We are watching wealth disparity become grotesque enough to feel mythological…and trust me, in this re-telling, the Gods (techbillionaires?) WILL be overthrown.

We are watching people become emotionally feral from overstimulation, war footage spliced together with fucking video games? What the fuck?! And the endless propaganda, not even in the news, nobody watches the news anymore, we get our idea about the world and ourselves from Instagram reels…And hey, let’s not forget the inflation, the inevitable economy crash, the ecological anxiety (but global warming is a hoax, right?), the systematic killing of the scientists right under our noses, people that might actually carry the proverbial flame down the mountain to us commonfolk to illuminate something important for the future of humanity!

And that endless digital meat grinder demanding we continue producing, consuming and smiling through it all. Are you fucking angry yet? I am!

So, that’s Algol territory.

The frightening thing about Algol is that it exposes what has become monstrous through neglect. Under this New Moon, many people may feel emotionally cornered, reactive, raw, strangely primal. Taurus usually wants comfort and continuity, but Algol corrupts the fantasy that comfort can still be achieved by pretending nothing is wrong.

And because Taurus rules resources, food, land, money, labor and physical security, this lunation may hit especially hard around questions like:

Who actually owns safety?

Who gets protected?

Who gets sacrificed?

Who profits while everyone else learns breathing techniques to cope with systemic collapse?

••●••

Still, there’s another layer to Algol often forgotten beneath the rage bating dramatic headlines. Medusa herself was not originally the monster in the story. She became monstrous after violation, punishment and exile. In more modern astrological interpretations, Algol can represent the terrifying power that emerges when the abused, silenced or discarded finally stop asking for permission to exist. Release all of the fucking files! Rage that grew teeth in self-defense.

But if we manage to muscle through this lunation with a complete set of teeth, I can see something good, something soothing forming on the astrological horizon.

Mars will exhaustedly strip down from the battle armor of Aries and slump down with a sigh into Taurus on the 18th of May, where urgency finally begins to slow into something more sustainable, embodied and deliberate.

And at the same time, Venus in Cancer forms a cute little sextile to Mars, like someone placing a cold washcloth on the forehead of humanity after weeks of collective fever dreaming. Tenderness. Remembering the body deserves softness. To heal. That providing care is much more potent act of change than explosive violent conquest, no matter what false propaganda reasoning you wrap it into.

And maybe that’s the deeper story underneath all this severed head symbolism. Not destruction for destruction’s sake, but the painful necessity of removing what has already died so something living can breathe again.

Taurus New Moon may arrive covered in dirt, blood and existential dread, but it is still a New Moon. Seeds are still being planted beneath the chaos, even if they look less like flowers right now and more like acts of refusal, boundaries, strikes, truth-telling, nervous breakdowns that become breakthroughs…and people simply choosing humanity over performance.

The world may still be trembling under the weight of its own madness, but somewhere underneath the wreckage, life is stubbornly preparing to continue.

••●••

TAURUS SEASON GUIDED MEDITATION JOURNEY

Drop into your body. Into beauty. Into the now.

I crafted a guided meditation + energetic transmission infused with Schumann resonance + 888Hz abundance tuning forks, to help you bloom in self-worth, pleasure & peace.

🌸 ☕ Perfect with herbal tea, bare feet on earth or under the stars.

🔑 33 affirmations. 33:33 mins.

ENTER YOUR INNER GARDEN HERE

••●••

Alright, let’s tear into how this New Moon and the whole messy, glorious chaos of May’s astrology is gonna slam into your zodiac sign.

I whipped up a raw little spell and a no-bullshit tarot spread for each sign - tailormade to catch the fire, break the chains, ride the weirdness this lunation’s throwing down.

Grab what’s yours. Burn the rest.

♊️🗣️💡 Gemini Sun & Rising

Welcome to your ultimate existential garbage disposal ceremony courtesy of the New Moon in Taurus ripping through your 12th house like that glittery Miley Cyrus wrecking ball aimed directly at your mental health.

A total, mandatory system refresh for your spiritual hygiene which means it is time to stop coddling the stale, expired stories you tell yourself about why you are stuck and finally put those old (patriarchal?) narratives to rest.

The real work is entirely underground and behind closed doors so if you are completely running on fumes this moon is giving you permission to sleep until you actually resemble a functioning human being again.

We are talking about planting a seed for your inner peace that is so fiercely private it is nobody else’s damn business because this moment demands absolute, brutal honesty with the version of you that lives behind your eyes.

Cut the performance, drop the heavy baggage you have been hoarding out of habit, and clean out the mental basement so you can actually walk out into the light with a clear head instead of a brain full of haunted static.

Then the universe decides to flick the main breaker and stick your fingers straight into a live socket as Mercury and Sun enter Gemini and conjoin Uranus which means your 1st house is about to hit maximum overdrive. (This will be May 17th to 22nd).

The lights are blinding, the music is deafening, your already overstimulated brain is running on a level of intellectual electricity that might make you probably annoying the hell out of everyone within a five km radius with your chaotic ideas-per-minute ratio.

The ever so erratic conjunction is bringing a radical, disruptive breakthrough to your actual identity so do not be surprised if you suddenly decide to change your name, your career, or your entire personality on a random Tuesday afternoon just because you can.

It is an exciting, terrifying evolutionary spike that will absolutely freak out the boring people who thought they had you figured out, but words and wild epiphanies are going to fly out of you before you can even process them.

Do not feel the absolute need to commit to every single manic flash of lightning that zaps your brain right now; just catch the data, write it down, and wait to see what actually survives the dumpster fire once your pulse returns to a normal human rhythm.

Just when your nerves are sufficiently fried the pace takes a sharp, heavy detour as Mars enters Taurus (May 18th onwards) and goes completely subterranean right into your 12th house to upgrade your hidden engines. You are officially done fighting petty battles in the streets because your drive has gone completely underground and winning the war inside your own head sounds a hell of a lot more enticing.

At the exact same time Venus in Cancer sextile Mars in Taurus shows up to soften the blow by soothing your 2nd house of cash flow and self-worth like a velvet wrap around a brass knuckle.

Are you suddenly intensely motivated to protect your peace?

Do you feel like hoarding your resources, handling your financial operations with a level of deep secrecy that borders on espionage? Yep, that’s this transit!

A beautiful little sextile taht means your behind-the-scenes power moves are going to flow a lot smoother than expected, making conversations about money or shared goals feel surprisingly supportive rather than combative.

Expect it to show up as the moment where you quietly close the several dozens tabs opened in your brain, you actually shut up about your several dozens genius plans and actually start doing the quiet, unglamorous, badass work that makes your empire possible.

Find the deep dive into the rest of the month (I cover all major 10 transits of May) and how the astrology writes itself into your chart, how it messes us and blesses up with your astro houses HERE.

New Moon in Taurus Spell: Plant Secret Seeds

This New Moon moves through your 12th House, the strange and sacred basement of the birth chart where dreams, endings, hidden griefs, intuition and private transformations quietly ferment in the dark.

Not your usual fertile new moon manifestation energy. It does not want announcements, vision boards or public declarations of intent. The 12th House prefers whispers. Things grown in silence. In dreams! Things protected from outside interference while they are still fragile and becoming.

Applies double in 2026, as the surrounding astrology is quite bloodthirsty (Algol!), so let’s be slow and deliberate, gentle and cautious with our great work. Under this lunation, your power may come less from doing and more from retreating long enough to hear what your inner world has been trying to say beneath all the fucking noise.

Find a quiet space where nobody needs anything from you for a little while.

Light a dark candle, black or deep blue if possible, and allow the room to soften around you.

Take a small piece of paper and write down an intention you are not yet ready to expose to the world. A healing process. A spiritual practice. A private dream. A secret project still too tender for other people’s opinions.

Fold the paper into something tiny (the three-fold, calling in method is perfect. Fold the paper towards yourself to draw energy to you. Rotate the paper once clockwise and fold again towards yourself, and the last time, feeling like the call has been completed and the distance between your wish and yourself been cut by three) and hold it in your hands for a moment, letting the intention settle fully into your body before releasing it.

Then dig a small hole in the soil of a potted plant or in a secluded patch of earth outside. Bury the folded paper gently and say aloud:

“In shadow, I plant. In silence, it grows. In dreams and awake, I nurture it with deep knowing that this is already mine.”

Let the candle continue burning safely as an offering to the unseen forces quietly working beside you.

The point of this ritual is not instant results. The 12th House rarely works on ordinary timelines. Trust instead that some transformations need darkness before they can survive the light and that not every beautiful thing in your life must immediately become visible to be real.

After planting, liberate yourself from waiting for the first shoots of the spell to show in your day-to-day. Know that they are already taking roots. Your work is done.

New Moon Tarot Slap: What Lurks Beneath?

This spread explores the hidden potential of your 12th House New Moon.

1. The Hidden Seed: What subconscious pattern or hidden potential is ready to be worked with?

2. The Inner Saboteur: What old fear or self-undoing habit is blocking the growth? (Your inner asshole).

3. The Shadowy Gift: How can embracing this hidden realm actually empower you?

Read more

May 2026 opens and closes under two powerful Full Moons, setting the tone for a month that refuses to be ignored. The acceleration of the wheel might feel overwhelming at first, so here we’ll first zoom out to tell a bigger story through the ten most important transits, where planets are actively changing signs (Mars into Taurus, Venus into Cancer, Sun into Gemini) and immediately start squaring off, creating tension you can feel in real time, with just a few sextiles stepping in to soften and help you integrate what’s shifting.

Like all the good stories, you will come on the other side of it changed. Shaped by the irreversible choices made under pressure, the shedding of subplots that no longer serve you and those pivotal moments where pretending is no longer an option. We’ll get a fair share of those!

In the full forecast, I break down all ten key transits plus give the usual detailed and actionable sign-by-sign guidance, so you can see exactly how May writes itself into your personal story.

••●••

Numerologically, 2026 is governed by the Wheel of Fortune tarot card energy… and April was the moment the wheel hit the mud.

We spent most of last month stuck in a rut, spinning our wheels in the muck of a fragile, possibly even imaginary peace. As we stumble across the threshold into May, the path ahead illuminated by the surgical light of the May 1st Full Moon in Scorpio, that peace is no longer a sanctuary but a fracture point.

We enter this story at a moment of profound tension, where the subterranean pressures that have been building since the start of the year finally seek release through a series of catalytic events that will redefine the remainder of 2026. Well… fuck a duck.

April already disrupted the surface enough that most people, whether they admit it or not, are aware that something is off. It unsettled rhythms, exposed inconsistencies, and forced emotional and structural pressure into visibility. When everything is loud, fast and chaotic, it is still possible to not fully register what is happening. You react, you cope, you move from one moment to the next without necessarily integrating the larger pattern.

May removes that buffer by becoming more coherent. The chaos begins to organize itself. The pressure finds direction. What felt scattered starts forming sequences..and sequences inevitably lead to consequences.

There is always a delay between movement and manifestation, and people consistently misinterpret that delay as a sign that things might resolve themselves without requiring further engagement.

May begins to dismantle that assumption.

Situations that might have been contained earlier begin to expand. Decisions that seemed manageable begin to reveal their secondary consequences. Systems that rely on stability start showing signs of strain when asked to absorb continuous pressure without recalibration.

On a collective level, this translates into a growing tension between appearance and reality. There is still an attempt to maintain continuity, to present a version of events that suggests things are under control, that fluctuations are temporary, that underlying structures remain intact.

At the same time, contradictions increase. Information does not fully align, responses feel reactive rather than strategic…and the sense that something is being held together rather than functioning naturally becomes harder to dismiss.

Economically, politically, technologically, there is a shared pattern emerging where the mechanisms designed to manage instability are themselves under pressure. That does not mean immediate collapse, but it does create conditions where small disruptions have larger ripple effects, where confidence becomes more fragile, where the gap between expectation and reality widens in ways that require constant adjustment.

On an individual level, the experience is more intimate but follows the same logic. There is an increasing awareness that certain patterns, whether behavioural, relational, practical, are no longer sustainable in the way they once were. Not because they suddenly stopped working entirely, but because the effort required to maintain them is rising while the return is diminishing.

This creates a subtle but persistent discomfort. Persistent discomfort gives rise to actions seeking to release it. When you need to pee and think you can sleep through it, there inevitably comes a time at 5 in the morning when you brave the cold floor and sleepwalk yourself to the bathroom.

May is that realisation your sleep was fucked anyway, the moment of capitulation you push the blanket away..a sense that continuing on the same trajectory is becoming more expensive, not necessarily in financial terms alone, but in emotional energy, time, long-term stability.

May is the tension of an almost-sneeze that refuses to arrive. Your whole system paused in anticipation, eyes half-closed, breath suspended. For a moment you think it might pass. It doesn’t. It just lingers there, demanding completion.

The astrology of May reflects this shift with striking precision, through a sequence that gradually tightens the space in which both collective and personal dynamics operate. When you look at the ten major transits shaping the month, what stands out is the way they build on each other, creating a progression that moves from impulsive reaction to attempted stabilization, then into denial, delusion, distortion, acceleration.. and ultimately confrontation with underlying realities that can no longer remain abstract. Wham! The door of the month slams (or opens?) with a second full moon on the very last day of May. This is significant! Let’s unpack together…

The Wheel isn’t just out of the mud, nope, it’s spinning so fast it’s threatening to spray the whole collective with some very permanent life-lessons.

May is a rare cosmic sandwich that features three distinct lunar chapters - two Full Moons and a New Moon, signaling a month where the emotional volume is turned up to a permanent ten. Having two Full Moons in a single month acts like a pair of high-beams cutting through the fog of 2026, revealing to us the mess we have been making in the dark.

I fully expect this to translate as a sort of high-tide energy that refuses to let the collective or the individual stay stagnant.

If April was about the wheel spinning in the mud, May is about the frantic, messy, and ultimately freeing work of digging ourselves out & speeding towards new unknown horizons. Cue in some perhaps super loud and super radical conflict resolutions.

The first week.

May 2-7 as Mars in Aries squares Jupiter in Cancer while Mercury in Taurus squares Pluto in Aquarius and Pluto goes Retrograde looks like a reckless escalation of power (I know, this surprises NO ONE, insert a theatrical clutching of pearls) on a global stage..and personally, it is that moment you say the thing you can never take back because you are tired of playing nice. A collision between raw impulse and deep, systemic rot. What happens now is messy and rushed and loud and maybe stupid, but necessary in the big picture.

We get a brief breather from May 10-12 when the Sun and Mercury in Taurus sextile Jupiter in Cancer, offering a window to actually sign a contract or fix a fence. But the clarity is short-lived because May 12 brings a Venus square Neptune funk that makes everyone prone to romantic delulu or falling for a shiny scam.

The New Moon in Taurus on May 16 tries to plant a flag in reality, but it is a gritty kind of beginning that requires you to commit even when the ground feels shaky. Taurus requires stability as a way of moving through the world, even if the world is falling apart in a glorious sequence of seismic activity - Taurus must built, even as tsunami forms on the horizon.

The pace goes from a crawl to a cardiac event between May 17-22 as Mercury and the Sun enter Gemini and conjoin Uranus. This is the electric heart of the month where news breaks fast and the collective narrative flips on its head. Aliens? I’m waiting!

On May 18, Venus sextile Mars offers a moment of social lubrication right as Mars enters Taurus, shifting the energy from a sprint to a stubborn, heavy-duty grind. The real pressure cooker hits on May 25 when Mars squares Pluto Rx, creating a brutal standoff between personal desire and collective control. This is the crunch point where the fragile peace of the year finally snaps.

By May 28, Venus square Saturn delivers a cold-water reality check to your relationships and your wallet, clearing the stage for the Full Moon in Sagittarius on May 31. This final moon acts as a telescope, helping you zoom out from the mud and the madness to realize that the chaos of May was actually the necessary friction required to launch you into the next chapter of 2026.

Let’s put these ten chapters under a microscope (scroll way below, if you’re interested in how each transit weaves itself into your Rising Sign’s story of May).

May 2 - 7

Mars in Aries Square Jupiter in Cancer,

Mercury in Taurus Square Pluto in Aquarius,

Pluto goes Retrograde

Between May 2nd and May 7th, we are introduced to what will be the primary conflict of the month: the battle between the drive for individual expansion and the need for collective safety. At the heart of this conflict is Mars in Aries forming a square to Jupiter in Cancer. This is an alignment of expansion through friction, where the unbridled, hot energy of Mars in its home sign finds the nurturing, protective boundaries of Jupiter in Cancer to be suffocatingly claustrophobic.

This transit acts as a peace-shattering event, a moment where the pressure that has been building behind the scenes finds its first major vent. History suggests that these squares function as explosive releases.. where there has been a fragile truce or an uncomfortable silence, this transit acts as the hammer that finds the exact fracture point in the foundation.

Simultaneously, we are forced to contend with the immense weight of Pluto stationing retrograde at five degrees of Aquarius on May 4th. A stationing outer planet is a massive celestial event, behaving much like a supertanker reversing its engines in a narrow canal (ha!). The wave it produces is entirely disproportionate to its actual speed, churning up the silt and debris from the very bottom of the collective psyche. This retrograde will mark a peak of intensity regarding systemic control, technological surveillance, the hidden architectures of social engineering.

It is a moment where the subterranean realities of our power structures are brought to the surface, demanding to be seen. Mercury in Taurus further complicates this early May window by squaring Pluto, suggesting that the information we receive and the thoughts we process are exceptionally heavy, perhaps even obsidian in their density and darkness.

This is a week for facing the most difficult truths about our world and ourselves before Pluto begins its long, backward crawl through the human psyche.

The interplay between the Mars-Jupiter square and the Pluto station creates an environment of high-stakes tension where every action feels loaded with consequence. We are being asked to balance the impulsive, fire-starting energy of Aries with the deep, transformative requirements of Aquarius. It is a time where the desire to burn it all down and start over (Mars in Aries) meets the cold reality of the technological and social systems we are already embedded in (Pluto in Aquarius).

This opening week sets the stage for everything that follows, establishing that the path forward will not be paved with simple compromises, but with radical shifts in perspective and power.

In personal terms, this energy can manifest as a breaking point where restraint loses its appeal. Situations that have been tolerated reach a threshold, and action is taken not because all variables have been considered, but because inaction has become more uncomfortable than uncertainty. This does not inherently produce negative outcomes, but it does increase the likelihood of decisions that carry longer-term implications, particularly if they are made in response to immediate pressure rather than grounded clarity.

(Scroll down to see how these transits write themselves into your Rising Sign storyline.)

May 10-12

Sun & Mercury in Taurus Sextile Jupiter in Cancer

As we move out of the initial shock of the first week, a brief but necessary period of restorative geometry emerges between May 10th and May 12th. During this window, the Sun and Mercury in Taurus form a sextile to Jupiter in Cancer, providing a much-needed timeout to evaluate the fallout from the month's first major setbacks and start rebuilding.

If the start of May was the storm, this is the period of assessing the harvest and looking for what can be salvaged and strengthened. Perhaps some new bloom emerged from the deluge?

Sextiles are invitations rather than mandates, requiring an active hand to bear fruit. This is the ideal time to leverage the grounded, physical stability of Taurus to nourish the growth and emotional security that Jupiter is attempting to foster in our domestic lives.

On May 10th, the Sun sextile Jupiter brings a moment of visibility and recognition for efforts that may have previously been hidden or overlooked. This is followed on May 12th by Mercury sextile Jupiter, which facilitates the kind of diplomatic and restorative dialogue that was utterly impossible during the friction of the previous week.

It is a window for healing conversations, for rebuilding trust, and for making practical plans that respect both our need for security and our desire for expansion.

May 12

Venus Square Neptune

By May 12th, the clear Taurus skies are obscured by a sea mist as Venus in Gemini squares Neptune in Aries. This transit introduces a profound layer of distortion into matters of value, desire and relational dynamics. Neptune’s influence tends to blur boundaries, soften distinctions and introduce idealisation where clarity would be more useful.

Venus in Gemini craves variety, intellectual stimulation, and the thrill of the new, but the square from Neptune turns every attractive prospect into a potential mirage.

During this window, things are rarely what they seem.. we are prone to seeing what we want to see in others rather than acknowledging the reality of the person or the situation before us. A projection-station shit.

There is a tendency to overlook practical limitations in favor of what feels emotionally or aesthetically compelling, which makes it extra spicy, where our sense of self-worth and value crosses over into monetary and material.

Financial decisions made under this influence are risky, as the fog of desire can easily obscure the practical pitfalls of a supposedly “perfect” opportunity. Log off the Amazon(if you still support that shit) and Vinted immediately.

TAURUS SEASON GUIDED MEDITATION JOURNEY

Taurus Season whispers: slow down, soften, root in.

Drop into your body. Into beauty. Into the now.

I crafted a guided meditation + energetic transmission infused with Schumann resonance + 888Hz abundance tuning forks, to help you bloom in self-worth, pleasure, & peace.

🌸 ☕ Perfect with herbal tea, bare feet on earth, or under stars.

🔑 33 affirmations. 33:33 mins.

ENTER YOUR INNER GARDEN HERE

May 16

New Moon in Taurus

The middle of the month is anchored by the New Moon in Taurus on May 16th, which functions as the eye of the storm in an otherwise frantic month. In a period characterized by high-velocity sign changes and radical disruptions, this New Moon is our grounding wire. It offers a singular point of silence and stillness, an invitation to plant intentions that are physical, durable and slow-growing (cue in my guided meditation journey above!). This is the most auspicious time of the month to reconnect with the earth and the senses, reminding ourselves that true security is built through steady, consistent effort rather than through sudden, flashy breakthroughs.

It is the final moment of terrestrial peace before the celestial landscape undergoes a total and irreversible transformation. So, no biggie, but you might want to lean back and let yourself be held for a moment in this rare celestial hammock of good.

Either spiritually, or in very practical tangible ways, the invitation is for radical grounding, but again, not in a passive or purely comforting way. New Moons initiate cycles, and in Taurus, that initiation is tied to material reality, to resources, to stability that can be sustained over time.

Given the surrounding influences, this New Moon does not operate in ideal conditions. It asks for commitment in an environment where certainty is limited (a Taurean horror story), which makes the act of beginning something new both necessary and inherently risky.

(Scroll below to see how this transit plays out in your own personal story - read for a Rising Sign, but take a peak at your Sun Sign too)

May guidance continues just below.

In the second half of the month, the cosmic pace is quickening - from the stabilizing force of Mars entering Taurus to the manic energy of the Sun and Mercury conjoining Uranus in Gemini. We even have a rare second Full Moon of the month, this time in adventurous Sagittarius - to light up the finish line.

The end of the month brings some serious friction, particularly as Mars in Taurus squares Pluto in Aquarius, aka the classic “immovable object meets irresistible force” scenario. .

I crafted a detailed actionable day-by-day plan for each zodiac sign based on how this chaos-friendly month messes up (or blesses up?) with your Rising Sign’s astrological houses!

If I managed to sprinkle some stardust on your day, consider please doing a tiny clickitty-click on a subscription. I keep it a prize equivalent of buying me a coffee once a month, and you can cancel anytime !

That coffee fuels my creativity and gives you access to an ever-growing archive of delights: meditations, workshops, original tarot spreads, spellcraft and all the good witchy-astro things.

Read more

Here’s the deal: May is designed to be an emotional volume all the way up experience.

It gives us two full moons, one at the very threshold of the month and another on the very last day. This is significant because those lunar pillars frame the entire month in a cycle of high stakes release under surgical light, leaving zero room to hide from the shifts you’re making. We are bookended by intensity, forced to evolve at a pace that usually breaks people.

The Scorpio Full Moon just pushed us head first and falling into May and if you feel a raw nerve or two, if you are a stranger in your own skin, congratulations on actually doing the work. Scorpio burns the house down and asks if you liked the view. It’s brutal, it’s honest, and it’s…done.

Now we hit the integration phase, which is where most people usually blow it. Facing your internal demons on Friday and trying to be a functioning adult who knows how to face their own family on the weekend requires serious psychospiritual acrobatics.

This is your aftercare. But if you accept my invitation to sip from this audio healing potion, you must know what goes into it.

The process starts with real talk and real healing. We face the shadows you met and the fears that surfaced, addressing the activations still humming in your nervous system. You drop the worn-out patterns as a fierce celebration of your own liberation, burning what needs to go to make room for some radical integration. Binaural frequencies, guided visualisation, pinch of mythology and some much needed energetic centres maintenance.

The journey includes a full chakras refresher, moving through each layer of your being with breath and visualisations to cleanse and realign you from your earthy roots to your cosmic crown. I use no bullshit affirmations to lock in the work, rewiring your brain so you walk back into the world feeling purer and more undeniably yourself.

Use the meditation to ground the electricity of the moon’s afterglow, to sit with the shift, to find your footing and see if you recognize the person looking back at you in the mirror.

••●••

Instant MP3 download available for members just below.

This meditation uses binaural frequencies

and it’s best experienced via headphones

Duration: 35 minutes

Music by Scott Buckley – released under CC-BY 4.0. www.scottbuckley.com.au

Read more

So, let’s begin with a simple but slightly uncomfortable question: have you noticed how many things lately feel…off, but in a way that’s difficult to neatly articulate? Not dramatic enough to justify a full existential meltdown, not subtle enough to ignore either, just this low-level hum of something not quite adding up.

Maybe it’s politically convenient but seemingly staged events or a growing number of missing scientists with insights into the exotic energy and deep space secrets?

You go about your day, answer your emails, make your coffee, scroll through whatever fresh absurdity the world has coughed up overnight, and yet underneath all of that there’s this quiet, persistent sense that the version of reality you’ve been operating inside is starting to glitch.

Yes, well, that’s exactly where May 1st Scorpio Full Moon meets you.

If April was a screaming air raid siren that refused to let you sleep, then May begins with the heavy, ringing silence that follows a massive explosion. It is the kind of silence where the dust is still settling and you are finally starting to see exactly whose house just got leveled.

Think of this as the ultimate cosmic deep clean. Scorpio, ruled by the warrior god Mars and the lord of the underworld Pluto, does not do superficial. It plunges into the depths, drags out the secrets, demands a radical, alchemical & deeply uncomfortable transformation. We are talking about the deepest investments of your life, emotional, spiritual, sexual, even financial aka everywhere the power is wielded - often tangled up with your deepest fears, your control issues and the raw, unfiltered truth of your desires.

And because this Full Moon lands on May 1st, there is something almost too on-the-nose about the symbolism. Mayday carries this long, layered history of collective power, protest, labor, bodies asserting their worth in systems that have historically tried to reduce them to something expendable. That theme is not separate from your personal life. It is mirrored inside it.

Where are you overextending yourself?

Where are you underestimating your own value?

Where are you still negotiating with dynamics that quietly drain you while asking you to call it commitment?

At the same time as this Scorpionic revelation, we have Mercury conjunct Chiron in Aries on the very day of the Full Moon. This is an invitation to speak directly to the wound. It is about the fact that no matter how much we theorize and understand the state of the world from an intellectual perspective, we still have to filter that knowledge through our physical bodies. The news you read about wars, systemic violence and the shenanigans of powerful men lands in your nervous system. It has to come through the vehicle. If we are not being traitors to the privileges we hold, we are being accomplices to the ways in which that violence proliferates.

This transit is a reminder that our body is our longest, oldest and dearest friend..and yes, it is keeping the score.

At the very same time, Venus forms a sextile to Saturn, and I actually find this one deeply reassuring amidst all the psychic excavation and nervous system static.

Because while Mercury and Chiron are pressing directly on the bruise, Venus and Saturn are the part of the sky that reminds you that pain without structure can easily become spiralling, but pain held with care can become wisdom.

There is something quietly adult about this transit, something that says: yes, the world is on fire in all the familiar ways, yes, your body is absorbing more than your mind can sometimes process, but what are the practices, people and values that keep you tethered to yourself? What remains when the noise falls away?

This is still a season of Taurus, so look for answers in some perhaps unglorious, perhaps obvious, but deeply grounding rituals of the body and comfort: sleep, food, touch, rest, a conversation with someone who doesn’t just validate your feelings but helps you metabolize them.

So, this moon slows you down, not necessarily externally, but internally, by making it very difficult to ignore what is actually going on beneath your reactions. This is where Mercury conjunct Chiron in Aries becomes relevant, because it suggests that what comes up now is not just surface-level information, it’s something that touches a nerve (maybe literally if you ask my misbehaving hip), something that links back to an older pattern, an older wound, an older way of interpreting reality that may no longer serve you.

The realization might arrive through a conversation, through something you say without fully planning it, through something someone else says that lands a little too directly, or even through your own internal dialogue suddenly becoming much harder to filter or soften.

And then Mercury moves into Taurus the following day, which grounds the whole thing in a very tangible way. What you choose to keep, what you choose to release, what you are willing to build going forward once the illusion has dropped.

Scorpio reveals, Taurus stabilizes, and between the two of them there is a very real question about what kind of life you are actually trying to sustain.

We are looking at how these dynamics might mess or bless with your astrological houses below (read for your Rising Sign), but broadly - on a more personal level, this can show up in ways that are deceptively simple but emotionally significant.

You might notice that your tolerance for certain behaviors drops quite suddenly. Things you previously brushed off now feel heavier, more obvious, harder to justify.

Or you might find yourself confronting a truth about your own patterns, something you’ve known on some level but haven’t fully acknowledged because doing so would require change..and change is rarely as convenient as we would like it to be.

There is also an emotional honesty to Scorpio energy that can feel both liberating and confronting at the same time. It doesn’t really do half-truths. It doesn’t excel at polite avoidance. It goes straight to the core of what something is, which is incredibly useful if you are ready to engage with it and painfully uncomfortable if you were hoping to keep things vague a little longer.

This is where people often describe Scorpio transits as intense, but intensity here is not the goal, it’s a byproduct of finally seeing something clearly.

On the collective level, yes, this is the kind of sky that often coincides with revelations, exposures, shifts in power dynamics that make previously hidden structures more visible. But again, the relevance of that is not just in the headlines, it’s in how it reflects back to your own life. It reminds you that systems, whether personal or societal, only function as long as the agreements holding them in place remain unexamined.

This is why Scorpio is often associated with endings, but endings here are rarely arbitrary. They tend to occur where something has already reached its natural limit. The Full Moon doesn’t create that limit, it illuminates it. It shows you where you have been investing energy into something that is no longer capable of growing, no longer aligned, no longer alive in the way it once was. And while that realization can be uncomfortable, it is also incredibly clarifying, because it frees up energy that was previously tied up in maintenance, in denial, in trying to keep something going past its natural lifespan.

So how do you work with this, practically, without turning it into a dramatic life overhaul that leaves you more exhausted than enlightened? You start by paying attention to what feels different. Not in an abstract way, but in a very immediate, embodied sense. What drains you more quickly than it used to? What feels heavier than it did a few weeks ago? What feels clearer, even if that clarity is inconvenient? These are not random fluctuations, they are indicators of where your internal landscape is shifting.

••●••

Welcome to a space carved out of the gut of the 2026 Scorpio Full Moon.

As the world outside fractures under the weight of disclosed secrets and the collapse of old power structures, we are doing something far more radical than just watching the news.

Through original tarot spread, journaling excavations, embodiment ritual and a simple cord cutting spell, we are clearing the field so that the beauty of the Taurus Sun has somewhere clean to land.

••●••

From there, it becomes less about forcing change and more about responding honestly to what is already becoming visible. If something feels misaligned, you don’t have to fix it overnight, but you also don’t need to keep pretending it isn’t there. If something feels right, even if it’s unfamiliar, you can allow yourself to move toward it gradually, without needing absolute certainty upfront.

So, even thought her light might be surgical, revealing, this is not a moon that demands perfection. There’s an honesty in seeing your own shit for what it is and making peace with that. And honesty can be as simple as quietly acknowledging what you know to be true and allowing that truth to inform your next step, however small that step might be.

Because ultimately, that is what Scorpio offers when you work with it rather than resist it. That is the quiet turning point of this Full Moon. Not a cinematic explosion, or real footage of war spliced together with stupid fucking scenes from video games. Not right wing podcasters hysterically kicking each other out of the closet or under a speeding train of history. No.

The usually manic full moon is instead quite unusually about a simple, naked moment of internal clarity where something clicks into place and you realize that whatever comes next, you will not be navigating it from the same level of awareness you had before.

And that, whether it feels comfortable or not, is progress.

That coffee fuels my creativity and gives you access to an ever-growing archive of delights: meditations, workshops, original tarot spreads, spellcraft and all the good witchy-astro things.

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