01.07.2020

This week's crowded cosmic choreography is as though our stars have multiple personality disorder. Each planet swinging between its bipoles and everything going on all at once. Depending on your chart / engagement / fucks to give, well may you find yourself careening between them like some kind of goggle eyed pinball. Or, as we ramp to the final eclipse, choose your own adventure.

Cancer season is sobbing like a baby and craving carbs, cuddles and a week long bath. Aided and abetted by the sun squaring off with Chiron, shelving salt into our original sin / identity wounds and hauling us back to kindy.

Mercury retrograde on roids is obsfucating tech, ratcheting inconvenience and tickling our emo underbelly, all while booting us hard and repeatedly in the nostalgias. This week my phone called itself as itself by itself and I barely raised an eyebrow.

Jupiter and Pluto's meeting in Capricornia was precisely not the make-a-wish foundation as advertised, with both in retrograde along with half their friends. Is this the time to call in The Future or roll the dice? Only in a parallel dimension where everything is not retrograding and ratcheting to a reckoning. Then sure, by all means, conjure us all something sweet.

Mars in Aries is turning angry ants everywhere into ferocious termites determined to gnaw the house down. Anger is an ally if used consciously and wisely but this is not a months long carte blanche for snipers and sideswipers. Pass agg and projection has already reached the stratosphere. Brace for flaming re-entry by the eclipse.

July's first day has been a blinder. As we dance towards the final act this weekend and Lady Eclipse hits the home straight, holding thy counsel / tongue / shit together is a public service and a private boon. Everything remains a key or a clue. Know where to look and hold your line.

Art by Shawn Marie Hardy

Words c. Kerrie Basha 2020