
Blog Library
The Libran Imaginarium
There's quite a full moon on the rise already and we're feeling a familiar ratchet. This usually lovely Libran peak is the first in what feels like forever that has not been an eclipse. Though we are still in the ebbing tide of that mad season, this full moon will rise from beyond it to deliver punchlines and spotlights on all that has been quaked and shifted.
Dark Moon Flaring
An incendiary dark moon descends over us all now, its pull to rest and recalibrate at odds with broiling revolution. If you needed an omen for the eclipse season incoming, the days between now and the Pisces new moon will likely deliver it. Try not to baulk when it lands like a bomb, like a blast of past angst, or dripping in blood. The gloves have actually always been off.
Forward Motion
This week begins in the hazy daze of Neptunia, its surreal half light obscuring and conjuring by design. Its been a wild weird wired weekend on planet rebirth. Emerging from the fray like a blessed slingshot, Mars finally concludes his months long hamstrung retrograde in Cancer. Though this will not instantly dry up all the tears nor quell the shouting, it does offer significant hope for fresh resolution and resolve on the way.
A Tale of Two Weekends
This weekend tells a tale of two cities, distinct in form and function, beholden only to their sphere of influence. You probably already know which is having its way with you and all in your sightlines by the stark difference in experience.
Even Warriors Get The Blues
Out of his depth Mars cultivates a familiar cardinality now, teasing changing emotions to the surface. Intuition vies with impulsivity. Sensitivity is fuelled with mixed results. Moods swing like trapeze. Cancer is wildly emotional territory. Mars here is tethered to the moon's shifting tides, easily made queasy when flung out this deep ocean.
The Wheel of Life
Family and friends gather in sombre silence to observe the final ritual of life. Gerberas explode in a dazzling array of colour atop a gleaming coffin in whose cushioned folds lies only the body that once bore life; hands that worked & loved, crafted and created whose gentle gestures are already missed.