There are moments in our lives that are portals. Quantum leaps we make effortlessly that shunt our reality from here to so far over there. The most recent eclipse season was such an animal, brimming with shadow and light. Often it is only with the passage of time and hindsight that it begins to make sense. We feel precisely how our worlds have tipped on their axis. We accept that nothing will ever be the same. We recalibrate.

Another long lovely chat with Michelle on her Persephone Program podcast on the quality of the current time, the Eclipse Portal, working with the elements, Shadow Dancing, Crafting a Witch-craft practice, Northern and Southern Hemisphere Astrology and so much more!

You've arrived early to the eclipse but you can wait here in our biding room. The moon window isn't quite all the way open and life litter is piling up in the corners. The black branch leaning over you creaks in the whipping wind like the old ones do, wearied by the world and its clamour.

The moon makes her way to her fabled meeting through the clamouring ides of March. This manic month granting a secret salve whose grace offers an all seeing eye in the centre of its storms. Tucked carefully between retrograde and revelation, four void of course moons offer us all regular respite from the fray. Unusually all four linger longer, for days not hours, offering clear passage across signs and thresholds.

It is indeed wild in these streets shimmering with the lick and spittle of this mad season. Pisces eclipse season demands you surrender to its cunning craft, no small matter for a world overstuffed with recovering control freaks. The virgin's eclipse only offers rebirth to those willing to pay its price themselves.

Welcome to the spectacle that has captured human imagination for as long as we've looked up. The cauldron that stirs the solar eclipse is gathering speed now and ancient magic is afoot. We are one and all in the turbulent passage to its occulting new moon, the deep stultifying drawing out. All creatures fall quiet now, burrow and wait for the shadow to pass.

Eclipses are a dance of shadow and light, conjuring both. Replete with endings and beginnings, mayhem and magic alike, eclipses offer us a regular reset button that knocks us back on to our soul's path if we have been led astray.

Eclipses are notorious dealbreakers and all too often shine their blazing gaze on our shaky, just barely hanging in there, way past its use by date, already cracking or falling to pieces stuff. Sometimes all of it at once, a particularly brutal form of species eclipsia that can render us utterly inert in the shocking days that follow.

Eclipses ripple along our timelines as divine disruption to regular programming. They slingshot us in and out of the passages of our lives. This first eclipse will clear the path. The second on the Aries new moon is going to launch you like a fledgling, perhaps flaming, into what comes next.

She came through my window like spotlight, interrogating me from dead sleep. Strange dreams crawling in my hair unseen and the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon. Her moon head in her hands in the dark before dawn, perched on my balcony wanting coffee.

Curious indeed the cages we pop ourselves in, the limits we place on our dreams and ambitions, the cultivation of hopelessness we can indulge from within. Even on the best days trapping ourselves in prisons of our own making, then gilding the bars with misplaced matyrdom, easy bypass or excuses. Eclipse season arrives twice a year to rattle those bars and our lives in the process.

In the cloudy backwash of last weekend's full moon, strange creatures are emerging from the depths. As though the supersonic blasts of sun and moon, frequencies and fuckery, keep conspiring to dissolve the barriers to necessary change.

As our next Giant Week in the Stars arrives bearing promise and potential, it is as important as ever not to gallop ahead of ourselves. Feeling into the distinct entelechy of the eclipse sequence is how we harness its magic, aligning ourselves to its torrent and too its tiny shards.

Eclipse season is a marathon not a sprint. This time around it brings in a sign change and a retrograde. We move carefully towards Thursday's epic mindful of all we must navigate - and prepare for - on a personal path to our first collective eclipsing this year.

Eclipse week is here darklings and this witch could not be more enthralled! Though we may now boast a haughty modern understanding of the orbits and intersections of our sun and moon, the folklore and magic attributed to our luminaries offers far more.

Curious indeed the cages we pop ourselves in, the limits we place on our dreams and ambitions, the cultivation of hopelessness we can indulge from within. Even on the luckiest days trapping ourselves in prisons of our own making, then gilding the bars with misplaced matyrdom, easy bypass or excuses. Eclipse season arrives twice a year to rattle those bars and our lives in the process.

Welcome one, welcome all to the full moon hangover. How did that do nothing / say nothing / keep to yourself thing work out for you? Yeah. Me too, darklings.

Post eclipsia can be overwhelming at the very best of times. So much fast paced change, all those heartquakes and headphoons and a finish line that resembles virtually nothing familiar. Tis a lot to choke down, let alone to do so underwater. Cue Pisces season to switch us from stewing to marination.

Post eclipsia feels often manifest as a deep desire to run for the hills or the coast or whatever new land you would hit first if you just started swimming. The stomach churning wild ride that is eclipse season is always equal parts lifechanging and crazymaking. Turned up to 11 if you have much Leo or Aquarius in your chart. What you will know for sure: life looks vastly different than it did three short weeks ago.