The Far End Of The Zodiac
Art by Juliana Seraphim
We make our way through the far end of the zodiac as if underwater. The afterglow of eclipse and the undertow of retrograde combine as an odd surrealism permeates the landscape.
The place just before transition is oddly still. Time shimmers elastic, pain vies with inexorable emergence and you can hear the strains of the next notch flickering beyond its roaring threshold. The disquiet forces surrender to the whirling swirling haste, the drag and pull of the far end of the zodiac.
This year in the thrall of eclipse season, a sublime rendering of life to date that holds all our extinction thresholds in her shaking fist. Rampant revelation stains denial beyond whitewashing. Retrograde chaos bubbles up all the shadows. Zombies that refused to die quietly clawing at daemons craving the surface world. Dream shards and false gods doing shots with Neptune. Lady Love and the trickster coiled like twin tripwires in reverse polarity, cauterising the past from infecting the future. The table flipping, the pieces flying, secrets slipping in and out through the breach.
Anaretica, thy true name is transformation. A glitching slackline that always gives way. A ratcheting tension that can only be released by the shunt of death and rebirth. Here a tide undefeated by human entreaty or disregard. Shadows and undertows gently pulling us to tumble disoriented over its edges. Caught between backwash and forward motion with nothing solid to hold on to, drowning in nostalgia's great gulping grief and the heady sparking promise of futures unknown.
This is not an easy current to cross, from finish to start. Different denizens will show themselves as the sky arcs towards equinox. You will have to leave all you think you know on its rocks, in the storm undefended. As its depths call to yours, shadows breaching like whales across the channel, you will need to change how you breathe and beat and dive. You could drown if you don't adjust to conditions beyond your control.
We have to make this crossing repeatedly in the weeks to come. Time looping threads that will pull taut only once we are clear. Third time's the charm but first comes initiation. Do not break your own gaze. Let the quietest strongest voice inside you call the shots.
We are all bodies of water, guarding the mystery of our depths
~ Deborah Smith
Words c. Kerrie Basha 2025