Insights into Mythology, Healing
and Transformation

Dissolution is a curious phenomenon, a change of state frequently indistinguishable from magic. How quickly something dissolves and transforms its state of being is dependent on a variety of portents, ordinarily calibrated to suit. But eclipse season is no ordinary chemistry. Control remains its greatest illusion, all attempts drawing different hues from shadowy depths. Sheathed in riddles thanks to the hazy influx of Neptunia retrograding through the deep oceans of Pisces, stirring the dreamscape to conjure new visions from the dark caverns within us. Its swirling disrupts normcore, glitching the matrix and shifting channels, fomenting a fertile chaos that feeds its urge to merge completely. For those keen to ride this cosmic equivalent of a fifty foot screamer, the path that beckons is only for the brave and the foolhardy. The outliers willing to trade the fixed nature of knowledge for the siren song of wisdom, who hopefully exchange locked boxes of doctrine for wings of imagination, letting themselves be utterly carried away.

Dissolution is a Neptunian pursuit. It depends on distinct surface areas, or how much you are willing to give and give up. Temperature hastens the process and yours will rise and fall like the ocean this wild week. Nothing happens without strong stirring, the magnetic symmetry of sun and moon drawing disrupt and rising tides, forcing a pull into unchartered territory. We will have to rely on instinct and intuition, our wits and our uncommon sense for the new path unfurling in its wake. In these imaginal realms, nothing is as it first seems. It could be better - or worse - depending whether you ride this eclipse wave or get dumped by it. Neptune's chaser is the secret source. Hitch your imagination to its velocity and expect to be delivered to a wholly new enchanted shore.

@bohomofo // Sept 24

The eclipsing tide draws back still, travelling slowly all the way out after its life shifting redirection and world beating chaos. Its ground zeroes laid fully bared now to a howling world reeling in horrors. All our own before and afters still glitching in and out of place, harsh and tender all at once. None of us beyond this mythological territory quite yet, not nearly out of its wild clutches.

Time won't wait, marching towards the next threshold. The bell already tolling a funereal lament at the grimacing hand of the dark lord from the lashing tail end of Capricornia. Since 2008 aiming about nowish to finalise exacting a terrible price for the malevolence of the old world. Its foundation stones well cracked, its towers falling, its failure inherent all along. The end times of the old world still dangling us all over precarious points of no return, refusing its salvation and evolution.

We know deep in our bones it means to take us all down with it now. Those of us still here despite its psychopathy have one job: to save what we love. To preserve and protect our homes in this world: the places we belong, the spaces in which we can create, the communities we crave and care for, the ways we move through life as an offering.

We stand on multiple extinction thresholds. Tipping points from which there is no return. Holding patterns that dissolve and liberate as everything resets internally. Hope seeded in its cracks and breaches. Fierce determination tapping on the edges. Love's longing for life itself still growing through the smoke and cracked earth. The tide turning as it always must.

@bohomofo // Oct 24