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.

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.

Quietly now, below the braying noise of the world, the moon takes her leave. On soft silver she slips silently behind the veil that shepherds her transition. Her rebirth in Aquaria will deliver the next lunar year and fresh threshold in a brand new cycle full of them. Mythologies will glitch and shift as wings and fire breath give way to the itch of ill fitting skins and a promising gleam beyond the moult.

Dark moon, thy name is dissolution as we make our way through the liquidity of the far end of the zodiac. Cut off from the cult of knowing and planning by design. Released from the strict safety of hospital corners and known quantities. Floating on a sea of unlimited potential whose murky depths will demand a different kind of discipline.

Our Coven Electric homes more than 40 dark moon posts since 2019 and hundreds in total. Crammed with tips and tricks, rituals and spells, the lore and lure of this potent cauldron space. Now magnified by a factor of eclipsia. And of course you are welcome to join us, for a moon or more. To deepen your connection to the natural world and its cycles by fostering your own spirituality and soul deep understanding. Marrying purpose to power, a winning combination.

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.

Every dark moon found her wandering these enchanted moors, a practice she had employed for lifetimes as she bore witness to painful rising and falling in the world of men. For far too many centuries now she had held the terrible cost to her aching heart as the moon turned her face to darkness. They wept together, tears turning to crystal in the frozen night air and falling from the sky like diamonds to litter the landscape with hope.

This dark moon is anything but restful, rippling with revelation in its starkest terms. The lunar ebb has been delivering a deluge that crams our wide eyes with scenes of devastation and despair, an inevitable tide that none can stem. We all know how we got here, to this existential tipping point of a world now in constant rolling crisis, whose powerbrokers remain only interested in saving themselves.

This week, in the stars and in the world, is crammed with aspects and perspectives that will draw a firm line between past and future. Between the old world still raging in its brutal efforts to survive through sheer force and the new world emerging from its smoke and ruins.

In much the same way that every full moon has a unique flavour and influence, not all dark moons are created equal either. Some initiatory months they are akin to a frenzied pop up of shadows and snark factors, misdemeanor and redirection. Insight and learning curves masquerading as what-the-fuckery, playing hard to get in the dark.

Though you may not know it, see it or feel it yet, this week is golden. Hidden within the waning folds of the moon, lurking in dark corners we have not noticed before, tucked beneath the masks and mayhem of life as we knew it. Once upon a terrible time, nevermore.

This month's dark moon bolthole is welcome refuge and scrying pool. A place to lay our world weary head away from the cumulative horror of the world of men and conjure an equal music of our own.

Every month in a row she calls us to temporary retirement. The beautiful moon hides her face, the stars blaze in her absence and the tides within us ebb. The bone tired exhaustion of all these modern gauntlets run on repeat catches up with us. We are world weary and craving retreat, rest and recalibration. The dark moon envelops us in her soft folds.

Not all moons are created equal. The journey through the deep treacle of the Aquarian balsam is no ordinary dark mooning. Descending like an otherworldly cloak as beneath its soft sparking folds you are transported, this caravan of selves.

As the dark descends, so too the peculiar melancholia. The swinging weight of this manic month drawling to a close. Neither our singular selves nor their many shadows desire the dance, as the dark moon draws the buried truth out into the barely there twilight. We stare blankly at its mass on the floor. The air is languid and heavily pregnant with transition, almost a day's labour away.

Most every dark moon I leave a photo of a dreamy bolthole here, a fantasy escape from the every day hustle and grind in which to rest and renew. But this is not life as we know it and the last lunar cycle has been one for the history books. Not one of us has escaped its impact, adjustment or shocking upset to our applecarts.

Dark moon bolthole, anyone? You know by now darklings my penchant for the isolation and wonder of the dark moon. And its blessed bliss is now upon us in the midst of madness, mayhem and a solid first week Mercing.